Here for me this time around

I have been fortunate enough to have time off at the holiday season.  Amid the moments of Christmas chaos, there have been quiet times of contemplation. It’s been a crazy, devastating, exhilarating, tiring, miraculous, scary, horrible, wonderful year. So much has happened and while the bad parts really sucked, I learned from it all.  I have had incredible highs and rock bottom lows. 

This is a traditional time of reflection of the past and the planning of the future.

I am proud of how strong I am in the face of all of the medical issues my family has had to face this last year, from the terminal illness, to the new life and all work and stress that both entail. I am proud of myself for asking for help and accepting the help offered freely to me.

I challenged myself with taking better care of myself and began routines that helped me keep from burning out with the stress and overtime that was required to keep this household afloat.  We can’t survive without me, so I need to be good to myself. 

I am letting go the notion that I am not enough.   I have proven to myself that no matter what, I can be enough. If others choose to not see that, they can exit my life and I will continue to be enough. I am enough for me and the people I choose to surround myself with. 

I have begun a love affair with hiking.  Being outside and being present in the moment.  The solitude of it tires my body and quiets my mind.  I plan on doing much more this new year.  

I have had some wonderful people who have shown me care and compassion and sweetness.   That will never be forgotten or taken for granted.  

I don’t like the word resolution because nothing is ever so firm or set in stone. I prefer the word goal. It leaves the door open for trying again each time I fail. 

I am trying to get into the holiday spirit and looking for Christmas movies to watch.  

I can’t decide if I have found a hidden gem or if I am just in an odd mood this morning and found this to be fabulous.   Anna and the Apocalypse is a strange combination of High School Musical, Shaun of the dead, and Christmas all at once. 

Check it out and let me know what you think.

Snow is falling on the frosty ground
Christmas cheer is spreading all around
It′s that time of year
But I'm feeling so blue
There′s a lack of presents in my stocking
And my chimney needs a good unblocking
Come on Santa dear
I've been waiting for you

Let me tell you, if
You're feeling frozen stiff
My fire′s burning hot for you
Before you take a nap
Let me sit upon your lap
There′s only one gift that I wanna unwrap
When you're near
Baby, it′s that time of year

Erotic Submission Is Chosen Power, Not Collapse

True erotic submission does not come from weakness.
It comes from overflow.

A woman submits erotically only when she feels so rooted in herself that she can lean back without disappearing. Submission is not giving up control — it is allowing herself to be led because she trusts her ground.

The wounded feminine submits to survive.
The healed feminine submits to feel.

There is a crucial difference in the body.

Survival submission tightens the jaw, holds the breath, braces the pelvis. Chosen submission softens the spine, deepens the inhale, opens the hips from desire rather than compliance.

Erotic polarity lives here — in the moment she realizes she does not have to manage the outcome.

The masculine who earns her submission does not demand it. He creates a field so stable that surrender becomes inevitable. His presence says: You can stop holding yourself together now.

And when she does, something ancient wakes.

Her voice lowers. Her movements slow. Her responsiveness sharpens.

This is not about obedience. It is about trusting gravity.

Erotic submission is the feminine allowing herself to be affected — deeply — without fear of being lost.

      Unknown author 

Anything can be kinky if you’re creative enough….

I had a conversation yesterday that started out as comical, but as I went to bed last night, it hit in a different way.  We were discussing my current state of neediness and it was brought to my attention that I have the battery operated means to fix that. I explained that none of them were charged.  I was jokingly called naughty.  My response was that I am completely unsupervised.  

It was a silly, funny response at the time, but then it hit me that I am unsupervised.   There is no one to remind me or give a task to do these things anymore.  No one that cares if my toys are ready for them to use. No one to check to make sure that I am taking care of myself. No one to make proud that I am a good girl. 

So what do I do about this? I will be more diligent in doing these things for myself. 

I am unsupervised….but oh the possibilities!

Soft, ticklish movement on my thighs wakes me. You must feel me stir and immediately whisper “ssshhh baby, let Daddy play.”  You part my legs and slide a finger to my instantly wet entrance.  You delicately circle, but never push in.   Just as I catch Your rhythm, You trace a path to my clit and the sweet sensation makes me moan and lift my hips.  “Hold still baby, good little fuck toys don’t move”, You growl.  

I can be Daddy’s good little fuck toy, or at least try.   

Is it me or did I just get a sex toy as a Christmas gift from my place of work?   🤭