Here for me this time around

My giggle for the day…..my new car seems to be BDSM friendly.  I can choose my Dynamic with the push of a button.  🤣

She'll let you into the parts of herself
That'll bring you down
She'll let you in her heart
If you got a hammer and a vise
But into her secret garden, don't think twice

You've gone a million miles
How far d'you get?
To that place where you can't remember
And you can't forget

She'll lead you down a path
There'll be tenderness in the air
She'll let you come just far enough
So, you know she's really there

She'll look at you and smile
And her eyes'll say
She's got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away

   Bruce Springsteen 

I was looking for things to do to stay busy and to stay out of the way of a very pissed off surgeon, while I waited for my patient to be ready to head back to the OR suite. The patient was a total train wreck and the anesthesia team was having a difficult time in deciding exactly what they were going to do with her, but that is a different story for a different day.

 I walked to the next set of bays over and asked a fellow nurse if she needed any help. She said that I could start her patient’s IV for her while she asked the medical questions. I walked into his bay and introduced myself. He had a quiet, calm air about him. I briefly explained what I was going to do so that I wouldn’t disturb my coworker as she did the talking. 

I always pump the cart up when I start an IV. I want the area close to eye level as I sit on the stool so that I don’t have to bend over and strain my back. I had pumped the cart up and was basically kneeling at this man’s side as I was holding his hand and looking for a good vein.  This was when I began to notice the pattern of the sleeve tattoo that he had.

The pattern was quite detailed and ornate. Right at eye level to me was a line of small BDSM symbols hidden in the pattern! Now that I had seen them, they popped right out of the sleeve like they were the main focus. I was mesmerized and before I could stop myself, I reached up and traced a finger down the line of the symbols. I could feel his eyes on me and looked up.  He knew!   I could see it in his eyes, he knew that I knew what they were and what I was.   

I continued on with my job and put the IV in. As I was finishing up, he looked at me and said, “Thank you, little one.” It was quiet and no one else heard it but me.   I didn’t know how to respond other than to lower my eyes and back out of his room.    

I have thought of that all day. I was surprised by the whole experience, by how it made me feel, by how I am still thinking of it. It was a brief connection, but a connection nonetheless. 

Hard need at my back

Hot breath promises in my ear 

Strong claim wrapped around me

Will relinquished 

Softness offered up

Home at last

Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you
Turnin' in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind
Suitcase of memories
Time after sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me
I can't hear what you've said
You say go slow, I fall behind
The second hand unwinds

After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray
Watching through windows, I'm wondering if you're okay
You say go slow, I fall behind
The drum beats out of time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time oh, oh, oh
Time after time
Time after time oh, oh, oh
Time after time
Time after time

 Funny how, out of the blue, a random song hits and topples all of the progress made. The anger is gone, but the longing remains.  Is it real or just missing what was good about us?  Move forward or stay in the past? Am I waiting? Will it change anything anyway? 

In Homer’s Odyssey, Circe lives alone on an island. She is skilled, intelligent, self-sufficient. Men arrive at her door expecting hospitality and dominance. Instead, she gives them wine laced with magic and turns them into pigs.

For centuries, that transformation has been read as punishment. The dangerous woman. The emasculator. The seductress who strips men of power.

But look closer.

Circe does not hunt men. They come to her. They enter her space, consume what she offers, assume control. And suddenly they are revealed as what they already are—greedy, impulsive, ruled by appetite. The spell doesn’t create the pig. It exposes it.

What terrifies patriarchal storytelling is not that Circe is evil. It’s that she is autonomous. She lives without a husband. She commands knowledge traditionally coded as forbidden—herbalism, potions, transformation. She controls who stays human and who does not. She negotiates with Odysseus as an equal once he proves he cannot be easily subdued.

For women, Circe becomes a mirror.

She represents the fear society projects onto women who refuse submission. A woman with boundaries is called cold. A woman with power is called dangerous. A woman who refuses to soothe male ego is branded monstrous. “She turned him into a pig” becomes shorthand for “She took away his dominance.”

But there is another reading.

Circe is not destroying men. She is demanding accountability. She is the embodiment of consequence. Enter her world carelessly, and you will be transformed by it.

#Mythology #FeministMyth #WomenAndPower #Circe #RewritingTheNarrative

INTERESTING READ THIS MORNING 

I ventured outside for a hike today.   The weather has finally warmed up a bit and the 16 inches of snow is mostly gone. Lately my mood has been as bleak as this winter has been. I’ve kept my head down and just survived.

I’ve wondered if my journey in this lifestyle is come to an end. I don’t know that I have it in me to try again or that I want to, but the hollow feeling is gone now. I think that’s a good sign.

Maybe, just like these flowers, I am just waiting for the spring. 

A girlfriend came over the other day to help me move wood for a laundry room project. When she showed up I was working on duplicating this picture. Before I thought about it, I said “hold on a moment, I need to go get some clothes pins out of my bedroom.”   🫣

Her: why do you have clothes pins in your bedroom?

🦗🦗🦗🦗

“What did you think about when you took your nightly picture?”, was one of many unexpected questions I was asked during an early morning conversation I had with a friend. I was quiet for a long moment as I thought back to a time when I was given the task of taking a submissive pose and sending a picture to my Dom. 

Taking a submissive pose was meant to please my Dom and while I believe it did just that, there was so much more to it for me. It was the time of day that everything faded away but Him. It was my physical showing of my vulnerability and devotion to the man that cared for me and understood me. 

 I could have quickly posed and snapped the picture and been done with the task, but I took my time with the routine of it. I usually bathed and got ready for bed beforehand. I shed my responsibilities and  washed the day’s chaos away.  I would slip into a silk nightie or a sheer lace robe.  I knelt and closed my eyes and pictured Him sitting in front of me. 

Taking my time and being completely present in the task made me feel close to Him and I loved that short amount of time that was set aside for me to focus on just Him.