Something I enjoy doing in my free time (which... I have precious little of)... I draw these mandalas. It is, by far, the most relaxing thing to draw and takes very little concentration. The entire process keeps my subconscious from becoming weighed down by thoughts and stress. From start to finish, it takes me about twelve hours to complete one.
I tried to see the stars
That very moment
What it would mean
Anyway
Their shine
Won’t lift the ache
Or still my heart
Stop my thoughts
My desire
I’m only humbled
And sobered
Reminded
I’m so very small
Lost in you
I’d say your eyes
But it’s more
Your smile
Still more
All of you
Sometimes I feel
The devil
Has caught me
The lived
The loved
The You.
My heart is aching today. No matter how many times I tell myself “I’m okay”... I’m just not. Not today. Maybe it’s the rain or the quiet. I don’t know.
Once in a lifetime you may come across someone who is a glowing presence in not just your life and heart but in the lives of everyone surrounding them.
I couldn’t help but fall madly in love. There was no other choice. I tried to stop myself. I really wish He would have just told me He didn’t love me. Because today, I still latch on to hope. If only I could have ... I really hate “if only’s”
Now that my crazy long heartbreak story has been concluded... I figured I would lighten up a bit and explain my “Shit Pie” story...
(First of all, I’m hoping everyone had a fabulous Halloween/Samhain ... Mine turned out to be amazing. I went dancing and ran into my daughter. I hadn’t seen her in months!)
Anyway... I had met this Dom online initially. I should have given myself more time to get to know him before meeting him. He was charming at first but most narcissists are.
There were so many red flags in the beginning, I would have trouble listing them all off.
I met him while in an open relationship with a switch. As much as I loved the switch... I was interested in being exclusive and I wanted a Dom.
He called me Kitten, a name I’ve come to hate because of him. He called my daughter Kitten as well... and this should have set off some red flags.
To make a long story short... or do I really want to make it short? I think the entire thing would be far more amusing if you got to know the characters.
Okay... so... the dom. I will call him Edward. Or jerkface...douche canoe ...twat waffle...
He acted a lot like a kid sometimes. He watched cartoons. He was obsessed with Arthur. He had a disturbing attraction to one of the characters in the cartoon.
He didn’t have a regular job, instead he made his income by selling antiquated books online. His inventory was extensive. When we decided we were going to be together, he insisted on moving everything to my home.
He insisted on me helping with his books in my free time. I hardly had any. I was working full time and going to school. My kids also needed me.
He also insisted I pay for the shipping and I invested so much money buying books for him to sell. He didn’t help with the mortgage or groceries or anything. He just sat on his money and made these demands of me.
There were little things that I did for him that didn’t bother me but the punishment for forgetting any of his quirks was denial of affection. We really didn’t discuss terms and limits before we got together. But that’s the worst possible thing anyone could do to me. I became a shell of a person.
Some of the little things I had to do for him were:
1. Bring him a washcloth that was wet on one side and dry on the other... every night or anytime he asked. I had no problem with this task...
2. Leave the house entirely with my kids when he wanted to take a bath. This was kind of weird and sometimes rather inconvenient.
3. Spend my hard earned money on yard sales.... Every weekend. I would catch hell if I did not do this.
4. Write a daily poem or praise to him on a public forum. I had no issues with this either aside from my words in that praise becoming less sincere by the day.
5. Make him pie ... whenever he asked for it. No problem there... I love baking!
He would squeal and clap his hands together when presented with the pie. Just remember this.
Many times he would enter the kitchen and ask, “Is there pie?” Or “Did you make a pie for me?” To which I would either give him pie or make him one.
After three years of living with this “man-baby” (a name given to him by my daughter) I had had enough. My daughter begged me to kick him out of our lives. She just said he wasn’t good for us... (Later after she had turned 19, she confessed that he had molested her. I was unaware of it when I broke things off.)
He did not go peacefully and forced me to be mean.
Even after the break-up he would still stop by and check in on us... which was rather annoying.
One night, I had made this delicious chocolate chess pie. For some reason... this pie wreaked havoc on the intestines of anyone who consumed it. It was a “shit pie”.
Jerkface came to visit on this night and asked me “Is there pie?”
The words made me gleeful... and I presented him with half a “shit pie” and assured him that it was crazy delicious.
He squealed and clapped his hands together, taking his pie home. He never asked me for pie again.
As I sit here writing this entry, I’m listening to my “Heart Wrencher” playlist that I made. Shirley Manson is gracing my ears with The World is not Enough. I can’t help but notice that she pronounces her H’s in words like “when”...I am not sure if I like it or find it distracting.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.. the heart break had not happened at this point. I was content with my assumption and just relieved to ease some of the ache in my chest cavity.
Sir was being kind and caring toward me and continued to give tasks and punishments where applicable.
A couple of weeks went by and then one night, He decided that he was going to reassert His ownership of me. He had me say the words, coupled with writing on myself and other actions. I was trembling. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I could hardly hold the pen in my hand as I wrote each word. This went on just about all night.
I thought perhaps I was hasty in my assumption. He used my feelings and held them in front of me. I couldn’t imagine that he’d exploit them... in that moment. I was nearly blind by how much I wanted to be His. All His.
I didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room. Although I love elephants. The one taking up space happened to be my vanilla boyfriend.
Over the next few days, we had some pleasant moments until His mood changed due to some issues that were unrelated to our relationship. I was supportive and listened. Once the issues had settled, I inquired about some tasks and that’s when it happened.
He told me that it would be best if we put a stop to it. For the “foreseeable future”. He gave me a line that loosely translated to, “It isn’t you, it’s me”... but also confessed to not being able to come to terms with me putting up with my boyfriend.
I simply told Him that I’d need time to heal (because, of course, He offered his care and friendship).
This is where I am now. Healing. Although a large part of me is constantly hoping there’s something I could do to fix everything.
A few months ago He had said something about just stopping because it might cause me to end things with the boyfriend. He said He felt He was enabling me. I should have listened. I should have taken that seriously.
He really did the best thing for both of us. Even though it hurts.
I went through many internal battles trying to decide if my feelings were for real or was I just fantasizing. There was no mistaking the constant and growing ache in my heart when I thought about Him. Maybe I ate something that didn’t agree with me... bad sushi... I don’t know.
I know I had not felt that way since “liver-man”.
My hesitation in saying anything was based on what good would come from it. I went a long time agonizing over that.
Now before anyone decides to judge my crazy self (which I cannot stop you from doing so)...No one is going to be harder on myself than I already am.
It may not seem like it (because my actions are highly contradictory)... I care greatly for my boyfriend. Not much in a romantic sense as that died with many years of dealing with his alcoholism. One day I will open up and tell him that I need a Dom and he is just not it. But not today.
I don’t like confrontation and worse than that... I abhor breaking someone’s heart when I see them struggling so hard in every other area.
If I kick him out, he will have no one and no where to go. I would hate myself. I would feel like I’d be cursing myself all over again. I’m not entirely sure I haven’t! But if I did that and hated myself... How could I expect anyone else to love me? What kind of person would I be?
I can already hear my internal voice saying, “You’d be an honest person”.
Surely there is a happy medium somewhere that I’m just not seeing.
I read somewhere that a more important goal to being happy is actually not pursuing happiness but feeding your soul instead. Happiness is superficial and pales compared to true joy.
I work long hours at an assisted living facility, caring for the elderly. It is a very stressful job. Sometimes I get things thrown at me, I get bitten, cursed at...I’ve had my shoes peed on (honest!). In the end I stay and continue my work, even when I feel like leaving. I do this because I love my residents. I don’t need the job. I have a 4 year degree and 17 years of experience repairing electronics. I could find something else... easily. But I stay. Making barely enough to support myself and my boyfriend. I do this because I could never bring myself to abandon these people. Making my residents happy... brings me great joy and drives me. I’m good at it. I love serving others.
My point is this: I do not need to satisfy my own personal desires to have my soul fed and to feel joy. I feel blessed. I fear losing that blessing if I simply kicked the boyfriend out.
He is kind and not cruel. I can live with that for now.
I felt that since I’m sticking myself where I am... I’d be no worse off if I just told Sir my feelings. So I did.
It was no surprise to him. And his response was something that made me automatically assume he did not feel the same way. I’m not sure why he didn’t just tell me straight out... he had to be cryptic.
He said, “I would say it back but I don’t know if it would be mean or kind, so I won’t.”
(to be continued)
I need some amusement... stat!
Writing that last section of my story, made me fall asleep with all kinds of emotions.
By that, I mean I was leaking from my eye sockets. I dreamt about Him. I really didn’t want to wake up.
So... someone please tell me a good joke... or a bad one! I’m not picky and I can be very corny!
Have at me!
It had been years since I had escaped the confines of a vanilla life. I had so many stressors surrounding me. My father had just passed away, my daughter suffered from severe depression and had been hospitalized a couple of times, and my son triggered a latent schizophrenic episode by indulging in LSD for the first time (the single worst week and a half of my life!). Work was demanding of my time; such is the way of the nursing field. I needed someone else to drive. I was starting to become a zombie. Actually not even as cool as a zombie… or a robot… I was… hmmm… What’s something super boring and snappish? I was turning into an accounting professor. Or the state of Delaware. You decide.
I couldn’t focus enough to draw or write. I was struggling in my psychopathology class… Oh! Something else boring… a 20 page research paper with no less than 10 sources to cite! I love writing but I sure as hell don’t love writing things that involve statistics and proving a point. I like pulling things out of my ass! (Shush!) I don’t like pulling things from other asses (okay I said that part on purpose). “No, Elrond from Lord of the Rings is not a valid source… neither is Yoda.” Fuckity fuck! Now I have to start all over! I found a Yoda quote in a fortune cookie once! “Do or do not; there is no try.”
Damn… Where was I? Oh yes.. So I couldn’t focus. Big surprise, huh? (*glances sheepishly at the above paragraph*) I needed some light free form interactive story role-playing with some romantic elements, so I started playing frequently. Sharon engaged in playing with me. He had a different character though. This one was a guy… and thus began our endless sessions of erotic role-playing.
Outside of our characters, we continued to get to know one another. We shared quite a bit. I think my submissive nature shines like a neon sign though. I didn’t have to tell Him I was/am a sub. He sought me out and would wait up for me, getting to know my schedule. We started discussing D/s terms and agreements, even though He said He’d likely be bad for me… I didn’t believe it for a second. He also promised that He’d have me constantly begging for release.
The first command He taught me was “Check”… I’m sure your imaginations can determine the nature of said command and thanks to Pavlov’s conditioned response… my answer was always the same. That one word, sent to me at the most random times… always elicited a very wet response.
The follow up to “Check” was “Show me”…. A bit self explanatory.
In the beginning, He gave me tasks that were designed to help improve my relationship with my vanilla boyfriend, but eventually things fizzled out and died on that end and Sir decided that the boyfriend did not deserve me.
We had a bit of a bumpy road but I became so enthralled with Him. He lived so far away… over land and sea. My heart ached because I knew that it would come to an end one day. He seemed to care deeply about the things that were most important to me. He didn’t care about my outward appearance as much as he cared about my character. He seemed to understand why I stayed with my boyfriend even though he completely disagreed with it.
He sent me a remote Bluetooth vibrator, that he could control, all the way from where he was… I suppose it was the most intimate thing we could possibly do together. The day he bought it for me was the first time he had me utter the three most important words I have ever said to anyone. “I belong to you.”
After a year and several months of involvement, I confessed my feelings for him.
(To be continued)
**Warning: the following material may contain evidence that I am a geeky wackadoo. Proceed at your own risk**
After a three year spell of no role-playing, I decided to revisit my online fantasy world and glean some inspiration for the novels I was working on. At least that was my cover story; albeit true. It just wasn’t the only reason I wanted to play. I also wanted to reconnect with old friends.
Years ago, I created a character on the site; whom I decided to make a lot like me. Her backstory and preferences… motivations and desires… all mine. The huge difference between myself and this character is the fact that she’s a witch and a werewolf AND she can lob huge balls of fire at her enemies. Because… I couldn’t just be a normal person. This is just a nutshell description because the whole story around her is pretty wild and freaky.
This character was built for the modern play settings and she owns a metaphysical shop in NYC. I would log in and set up a chatroom just for her store. I went through great lengths to make it as authentic as possible by even creating a separate profile for the store, complete with pictures and a detailed description.
**Funny side-note: The store profile could chat just like any other character so I always had to be super careful not to be in the wrong window while trying to play my werewolf or I’d wind up emoting something like this:
The Bell, Book, and Candle made her way through the aisle with all the candles to approach the man at the counter, winding a strand of hair around her finger idly.
I was famous for doing this! You can only imagine how it was during an erotic scene! End of note**
I would also give ACTUAL faerie oracle readings… A somewhat different tool for divination similar to Tarot…
My point is, I placed so much time and energy into this character … she was like an extension of myself. I made myself feel what she felt… and she was/is very emotive.
As I logged on, I couldn’t help but notice there were hardly ANY players. Some girl in the Lobby who I will call “ Sharon” , and she just sat there… inert. I know a screen name is not the actual name of the player in most cases, but it IS an identity; so I shall protect it. The owner of the site was there as well and I could always count on him for some decent playtime.
Day after day … for several days… it was like this. Finally, Sharon moved from the lobby to my store! I was thrilled; but also very curious about this mystery character.
Before I proceed further and your mind is blown by my crazy nerdiness…*long awkward pause as my mind processes*. I’m not even sure how to explain it without blowing your mind with my nerdiness. Okay… I’m a freaky nerd and I love making up stories and creating fake relationships and romances. All in fun. It’s like writing a book and you don’t have any control over what most of the characters do. It genuinely helps me build my characters that I write about. My little witchy wolf lady had been in a relationship before I disappeared. Naturally that relationship dissolved…but to stay true to the storyline, my character was in the midst of recovering from that loss of relationship.
Enter Sharon. The two get to talking and discover that Sharon is dating my character’s ex-boyfriend’s brother. I don’t remember most of that particular scene but that’s when Sharon’s player and myself started private messaging each other. I thought, perhaps Sharon’s player was a woman at first…but it was hard to tell. We just started talking and sharing about our lives and interests; really getting to know one another. I found out that Sharon’s player was/is a guy…whom I shall call “Sir”.
(To be continued)