If You Care To Find Me, Look To The Western Sky...

Tarnished Armor 

It almost always seems the story plays out that  a knight in shining armor, comes thundering in on  his mighty steed. With a broad sword drawn ready to save the damsel in distress.  

I say why? Why a knight in shining armor? Why must he look impeccable in his glinting steel?  

I do not need nor want a knight wearing this armor to come to me.  I want and desire the knight who has dragged himself through battle. Bloodied by his wounds alongside  those he fights with.

My knight should have armor that has been dented and pierced from many blows and strikes. Armor that has been tarnished by sweat and tears.  Armor the conceals in the dark of night 

A knight who wears armor which  shines under the sunlight, and gleams  in moonlight, armor without any stain. Has not stood in the battlefield leading his troops . But remains at the horizon seated on a hill crest watching his  men fall in battle and barks orders to seek victory in his name. 

The one who’s worn the tarnished armor has fought in many battles and knows the evils the takes place on the battlefield and in the nightmares which  bring the past to present 

The tarnished armor does not claim to be perfect and more regal and more valued.  The tarnished armor will give thoughtful council. He will sit against the wall listening and watching, his stories are only revealed as needed and only to improve a situation. 

While the shining armor will boast and tell tales of all they have done and seen.  Making the stories more grand as the crowds gather. 

Tarnished armor protects a loving heart. 

Have you ever screamed so loud and so hard that there was no sound? The silence was so deafening, and  you feared your head might explode. That the scream shakes your entire body and you are racked with pain so excruciating that you want to rip your heart from your chest, hurl it towards the Abyss to be devoured by the darkness. Only to dive in and swim downward to find it still beating, and place it back into your chest. The icy waters no longer pierce your skin, no longer in pain  

   I will not be a gift, to be presented wrapped in fine papers, taped and bowed.  I am not a thin etched crystal trophy set upon a mantle to be gazed on.

   My submission is not a gift to say “ oh I will submit to you I am this most precious gift you will ever receive “ submission is not a gift. 

   Gifts are  of baubles and books. Items to bring  smiles when unwrapped, a ceramic. A book of quotes . items searched for and given at any time as you are never far from my thought - those are gifts. Gifts are items of oddity and whimsy and practical engraved knives. It is an ear, a shoulder. It is edged  rocks under bare feet.

  My submission is not a gift, I am not draped in a giant bow. My submission is not a gift with a receipt to be returned or used as a re-gift at the office white elephant Christmas party. 

   Submission is no gift nor is Dominance. It is each, it is flesh and bones. The  strengths and weaknesses. It is every tear and laughter. It is smiling up to you, and learning to kneel, It is blurting out everything that scares me. It is every hope and dream. It is every adventure together to be had, every thought to share, every strife to tackle and overcome. Every dull moment and every passion. It is the barren times and the times of fruitfulness. 

I am not a prize, I am not a princess, I am not wrapped all in ribbons and bows. I am not to be worshiped  for being a submissive. The gift is made within the two, not of by one. I am not a gift. The gift is the pair working together, fighting together, one leading and one following, questions, answers, firmness, gentleness, stern and soft. It is the doubts and holding each other up, it the sickness and laughter. 

I have a soul. I have a voice, filled with desires. I have a yearning to serve. I have the doubts of failing. I have a fight that burns slow and strong. I will rip open my chest and flames will erupt. I will  reduce those to ash of those who breach my walls . I will stand steady and strong.I am foible and I am conviction. I am evil and I am virtuous. But I AM NO GIFT.

Progress slow and steady  there is only about an 8lb difference between the pics  I started pushing myself in May when I turned 50  weights and cycling 10miles a day plus Pilates and yoga. And I gave up bullshit  I turned myself around and changed my path  

I do get frustrated when the scale hardly moves  but the measurements and clothes don’t lie  my energy is up and I have a healthy relationship with food for the first time in my life as I have had an eating disorder for since my teen years and in healthy recovery now. 

 Repose to slumber, to hibernate, nap, doze, snooze, sleep, recharge. 

That is what my weekend was made of. I showered then crawled into bed, with no alarms set,phone on emergency contact notifications only,  I was going to allow myself to wake naturally. If I was to wake at noon, so be it I would rise and start my day. I slept and I slept well. Waking at 2:30pm. 

I stretched and yawned and felt so good, my body was healing, rejuvenating. I curled myself into my sheet, cocooning myself and snuggled into the pillows I had structured into my nest. I turned on my audio-book and allowed myself to just rest. There was no cleaning, no deadlines to meet, just me and sleep. 

I padded through my little house, seeing how I kept it clean, knowing there would be no rushing to catch up on my days off. I patted the dog's head, oh what a good girl she is, as she is a big napper as I am. Constructing a snack for her and I, we  retreated to the sofa with 3 blankets nesting in for a while, we watched a little TV, I with a glass of wine, and she with a cup of whipped cream. 

We ventured outside, sitting at the patio under my apricot tree, with sunlight drifting through the leaves. We softly and silently returned indoors. The house filled with the scents of fresh flowers, and my lingering body wash.I yawned and stretched, slipped into another shower.

The water is the only sound to be heard, rushing over my body, I bend and stretch and twist, my body relaxing. I sat at the computer and did a little writing, putting notes of story-lines together. Music now fills the house with the visual of a virtual crackling fireplace on the screens. Once again I yawn and stretch, retreating to my bed. The air is cool and the room is dark as I pull the covers up and drift to sleep again. No alarms set, just me and sleep.

I wake and shower once more, I make a light dinner, feed my girl and we travel outside for a small quiet walk in the dusk. She frolics in the tall grasses of wild sunflowers and I stand at the edge in silence, feeling the last rays of sunlight on my skin.

I putter around the house, wiping the kitchen clean and starting laundry- the aroma of fresh coffee and clean linens fill my kitchen. I light the candles through the house. Their soft flicker is the light of the evening. I curl to the couch with the remote in hand. Aliens V Predator begins to play on mute, I sit and be still. The movie plays as I read. My mind is relaxed, I am calm as the screen flashes with gunfire and aliens dripping acid from their mouths. 

The movie ends, the candles are snuffed and once again I return to the slumber of my bed. The bedding wraps around me, pulling me to sleep, my mind plays out scenes from my next book, as I drift. 

My days were of rest and rest alone. I gave myself the peace and grace to just be, and sleep. To sleep the day away. My body yearned and ached for the deep slumber. Craving the sheets to drape across my skin. There was no looking at the clock, no timelines to have, only daylight and darkness were my markers. I showered, ate and slept. My body needed me to release itself to slumber, and that is what I did.  

He lingers on my skin, the softness he shows. I feel his voice next to my ear, whispers for me and me alone. the warmth as he presses to me in a drunken slumber. his chest to my back and I feel each beat of his heart.

Whom do you gravitate towards, what do you look for?? What do you see in the other person? If you are a submissive what do you look for in a Dominant?  If you are a Dominant what do you look for in a Submissive?

     I’ve watched Gabor Mate clips on and off the past couple years. At first I thought he was a holistic guru-not sure why I had that thought? Perhaps it was how softly he spoke the gentleness in his mannerisms.  So I wasn’t sure what he was all about. Until I saw him on a Mel Robert’s podcast ( I shared this video in a previous blog titled I am Broken and I am Beautiful , highly recommended the video).

   In this interview he's talking about what we are attracted to, wow!  I never would have seen it that way, but it is so true. Almost like the opposite attracts. 

 At the bottom of the video in the description it's broken down into sections, making listening to parts over again

Yay us, right ladies?!  I thought I finally hit the full blown menopause as I had not had a period in 212 days!! I thought yes!! I had suffered from the hot flashes and mood swings from hell. I felt a twinge in my abdomen and thought thats a feeling I had not felt in so many months. Well hello blood. 212 days back to zero. 

I also learned of some very weird side effects of menopause. Did you know that it is not uncommon for many women to lose parts of their anatomy? Yes the outer Labia can just disappear, that's right- gone. Also the clit can shrink and become less sensitive. Cold shoulder, smelling odd scents, the flushing of the body not sure if I will be cold or super hot, the odd tingling sensations

Crazy how our body works, I feel as if I am in some type of sexual awakening during perimenopause and menopause. I am easily aroused and very excited. I am comfortable in my body and feel more sexy now at the age of 50 than I was in my 20’s.

This is just one more step in my life. I was never taught anything about “the Change” . My paternal grandmother had a hysterectomy as did my mother and my only female cousin. I had no one to ask, and this is just something that is not talked about, as it should be, its 2025 for goodness sake. We are so far behind in women's health, for fucks sake they just recently started testing pads and tampons with blood instead of water. 

Just because I am 50 and going through these changes, I am not alone and I am not the first nor that last who will do so. It's just another step in my wonderful life. I love being free to express myself, and I don't have to compare myself to the younger ladies, they have their own shit to go through.

So to the ladies over 50 we are stunning and amazing and can make huge changes in our lives. We can go back to college, we can become authors, we can be the crazy cat lady, or become the lady who plants too many zucchini plants and people run from us so they don't have to take a bag of them.