Monday, April 25, 2016

All Over Again

Yes. Things have been rough lately. I've shed way too many tears, and my emotional pain has sometimes been unbearable.  I've been here before, and I've suffered these all-too-familiar feelings before,  I know what it is like to feel alone in a crowd, to feel unloved in a room full of lovers. To feel hopeless, helpless, unloved, unwanted undesired. To feel like a failure.

Still, I also know the Joy of Loving someone, truly Loving someone, and knowing that they Love me back. That undeniable feeling of Hope and Joy for someone who truly 'gets' me. Feeling invincible. The butterflies when I'm being held, touched and kissed. The sharp intake of my breath when I'm being kissed or held, and I'm just floating on air. The pleasant giddiness of it all.

Just because I know that wonderful feeling, it doesn't prevent the earlier-stated negative emotions from coming on, and, granted, I have earned my stripes in the suffering department, so it's not really an overreaction on my part. I would almost dare to challenge anyone who feels I'm weak to walk a mile in my figurative shoes and get through it without feeling despair at times.

But this "All Over Again" I'm referring to is is the Love. No, there's not a recent Love or attraction over the past few days. Nothing like that. It's that I was reminded again how well Fetlife archives messages from our past by a friend, so I took a trip down 'Memory Lane' back to 3 years ago when I was in a fragile state over the unexpected death of my Mother, and things felt hopeless for me. I read messages that started off so innocently, and how they turned flirty, and then developed into a mutual wanting, and then Love, and how it happened over the course of a few months. I started reading them analytically, but in the hours of reading, I found myself falling in Love all over again with him.

I've never stopped Loving him, but the weight and burden of going through this shitstorm called life, I forgot just how much I'm Loved by him. I forgot how shy we were, and how afraid we were of opening up to each other. I forgot what a delight I was to him, and how much tenderness was expressed between us. I needed to remember that it's still here. That our commitment to each other still stands. How much he loves not only me, but Stitch as well.  The sacrifices we all made so we could be a Family.

Yes, I always say how important it was and is, but I forgot all those wonderful feelings that came with it.  How he described me in his early journal writings. His eagerness to please me, and my uncertainty of whether I could actually take a chance with someone new, someone who had what I thought of as character flaws, most notably smoking cigarettes and an aversion to rejection that was so strong, I wound up in an M/s relationship against my better judgement with him.

I'm alone right now. Stitch is asleep in his room, and Shilo is at work, but reading those notes, messages, and journal entries have me feeling it all over again. Falling in Love over and over again with someone is perhaps the best feeling of all.  Remembering how very precious I am to someone else. Retracing those first few steps into an unknown and untested territory.  Giving up, giving in. Feeling all those feelings just like the first time, but knowing the rest of the story. The one that says "and they lived, and they laughed, and they hoped and they dreamed. They had struggles and storms, and held onto each other when things were tough, and even though there were times that they got frustrated and felt like giving up, they didn't. They just kept Loving each other whether they were crying or at odds with each other, because that's what people who Love each other do. They don't give up."

I think that's the best part. Whatever discouragement I've felt is now tempered with falling in Love once more with Shilo.

Addendum: Stitch and myself have been together for 12+ years, and while it may seen to some that Stitch is on my back burner, it's not that at all. We seem to weather storms together without the uncertainty that has happened more recently with Shilo. This isn't to say we don't have our 'moments,' it's that we are so established that we don't worry. Stitch is a talkative extrovert. I know that one day, it will be the same with Shilo even though he is a quiet introvert. It's the difference between the tested and not-so-much tested, the new and the not-so-new.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

I'm On The Hunt

The natives are restless, I'm restless, can't sleep. Longing, desiring, wanting something, someone who can feed my inner hunger.

WAIT! I hear you yell. “Aren't you satisfied, happy with what you have?” I stop to consider the question.

My reply:

I'm very happy, but they deserve a rest sometimes, and I'm capable of so much more, and I want to share what I have. I want to paddle someone's ass to a pink perfection while Shilo observes contentedly, and Stitch fetches water for me. I want to feel the raw energy of someone enraptured with my eyes and attentiveness. I want to feel a body drenched with satisfaction and endorphins caused by my actions. I need to feel useful.

I've spent 6 months in a shell, in survival mode because of things going on in my Family and Household. I'm like an animal that has spent time in hibernation and has awakened, hungry and desiring what I've gone so long without. I've crawled through a long dark tunnel, and I can feel the
warmth of the sun, and I smell flowers and promises in the wind. I hear water, a brook, perhaps? rushing nearby. I'm ready for it!

Like a Warrior in a time of Peace, I know that this moment isn't promised forever. I want to celebrate the victory while I can, because I know all too well that it can be a fleeting thing, and I want to feel refreshed for when the enemy attacks, but I hold on to the hope that it won't happen.

Times like now when all is well with my world is what keeps me going when I'm in the trenches, when I am hibernating, when I am barely surviving. It gives me something to look back on, something to look forward to.

I've thinned out and my eyes are a bit hollow as a result of what I've been through, but I am still strong, and I want to share, so please allow me to hunt, to share, to laugh, and celebrate. And, if you are desirous of my offerings, come to me, and I will share. Isn't that what Community is all about?

Monday, April 11, 2016

Threats and Promises

I'm currently locked out of Fetlife due to a clerical error. Whenever I do get back on, I'll probably post this there. In the meantime, if you are easily disturbed by violence, etc, I ask that you refrain from reading this, or read it at your own risk.


Threats and Promises can be either good or bad.  There are occasionally good threats and bad promises. It all depends on the point of view of the recipient.  As for me, I won't make a promise I can't or won't keep. Still, I often do things I say I'll do without the words "I promise."  I'm in need of an emotional dump, and right now (9:45PM PDT on Sunday, April 10, 2016) I'm not sure how this will all end, my jumbled thoughts dropped out of my head and onto the computer, nor am I sure how long it will take for me to put it all down, because I mostly type with one or two fingers.

I don't need to put this down, but my defensive side forces me to: Yes, I was sexually abused as a young girl, yes, I've been assaulted numerous times, including in an abusive marriage that lasted nearly 13 years, and I've been raped more than once, with the last one being so traumatic that I have "shut down" several times since then. (July 2004) Still, this has nothing to do with my sexual preferences/practices or my involvement in BDSM. I don't see myself as a victim, I see myself as a survivor. Still, the memories will sometimes make me cry.  I have PTSD. I have "triggers" that affect me. Some I'm aware of, others that take me by surprise.  This doesn't make me weak, nor do I want or need anyone's sympathy. Acceptance is fine. I'm not fragile. Time has taught me that I can make it through the pain.  I'm picky about the Ones I go to when I need to be held and comforted. They know who They are.

'Deadbeat' (the father of my children, and the man I stayed married to for 13 years) never threatened or promised. Instead, it would often come swiftly and unexpectedly.  It took me nearly a year after I left him to feel safe enough to tie my shoes unless I locked myself alone in a room.  I would rather trip over loose shoelaces than dare to put my head down long enough to retie them. It wasn't the fault of my children that I was often beaten for their actions.  I always thought 'better me than them' but sometimes, they would be beaten as well. Two months before I left for good, he gave me a black eye just before I got into the car to visit my family. I had told them many times over the years that I was in danger, but I think the black eye finally got their attention. I can't begin to count how many times I was told "Try and work things out, give it time." Sometimes, it's just not enough. Sometimes, nothing is good enough. Sometimes, you need to realize your own value and walk away.

I don't recall every instance, but my sexual desire was nonexistent, so Deadbeat would often take me in my sleep, and then wake me up and hand me a towel to clean up. I was a member of a very conservative church, and I was told by the Pastor that it was my "duty" to give him (Deadbeat) sex whenever he wanted or he might find someone else.  Looking back, I think it's funny. After I left, I found out Deadbeat cheated on me numerous times, and then accused me of cheating and beat me.

In spite of all that, I remained trusting of others, and I discovered that most people were good. I became fearless, and even though I often had night terrors that would make me wake up screaming, I did okay.  Once, when I was living on a boat moored off of Catalina Island with my boyfriend at the time, my screams caused the Harbor Patrol to pound on the doors because someone thought I was in danger. When they saw that I was physically okay, and was told that I had night terrors, they noted it, and we were no longer disturbed by them.

My boys would sometimes have friends over, and my screams would wake them. I used to apologize for frightening them in the morning, but it eventually got to the point that all their friends knew that my screams were 'normal' for me. Now that they're a distant (bad) memory, I ask myself how anyone could consider it normal. I will sometimes wake up scared by something in my dreams, but nothing like it used to be.

My ability to easily trust others was taken away when I was raped in July 2004. Nearly twelve years later, and I still take my time in inviting others into my life. I might have hundreds of Facebook friends, but it's a very few people that I call "friend." There are people who have known me for years and they only know my nickname. Since my home is my Sanctuary, I rarely have people over anyway. "It's not you, it's me" applies in this case.

Looking at the clock, and other than two five minute breaks, I've been at this for 90 minutes.  I'm still not finished, but where I am now isn't exactly where I thought I was going. I still need to get to the place I was heading, and I will get there in time.

I've covered Threats and Promises from others and I barely touched on mine, which is where I really wanted to go. Thank you for being brave and patient enough to get to this point. I wish I could promise you it will be worth your time, but I can't.  That decision is yours.

I love many people, some know it, some suspect it, and others have no idea just how deeply I love them. There are only two people who I am "In Love" with, and they are Stitch and Shilo. I've Loved Stitch longer, but that does not mean my Love for Shilo is less, nor does it mean my Love for Stitch has diminished. Love is not divisible, it is something that can only be multiplied.

Love is perfect, but it doesn't mean that my relationships are perfect and painless. I could only wish for that. In this case, the pain and imperfections in my relationships remind me that I am alive. Like the waves of an EKG, it has it's ups and downs. "Happily ever after" is a fairy tale. My life is not a fairy tale.

I'll tell you that life is often ugly and scary, and sometimes you think you've reached the top of a hill only to discover that there's HUGE mountains ahead. It's not easy.  It's a fact. This isn't a complaint. Nobody likes a complainer, but nearly everyone likes likes the truth, even if it's ugly.

Stitch isn't as healthy and strong as he used to be. He's often tired and surly, Choosing to argue instead of trying to understand.  He often pushes thruogh at the expense of our relationship. I've told him I'd rather have cuddle time than a clean yard, but because Shilo has had his own health issues, Stitch feels it's his 'duty' to take care of things.

Stressors will often cause me to have digestive issues, and, combined with my medications, my stomach is frequently tied up in knots. My SAD is at its worst in April, so the uphill battle is often lost by me.  It's easier to give in and quit than lose and be unsuccessful in whatever I want to do.

Then there's Shilo. Where Stitch is able to use his verbal skills and express himself, Shilo is often silent. Fortunately, he keeps an online journal for me. He hasn't always been completely truthful in them, especially when it comes to things that he's afraid I'll be disappointed in him about, (Smoking comes to mind) but it's still a useful tool. Shilo will often guard things and hide them instead of being vulnerable with me. I've come to accept that it's just how he is.I'm not sure if he realizes the pain I occasionally get from that part of him, but, just like him. I often guard that part of me.

I'm not going to hold back. It's past midnight now, and a new day (Monday) and I need to get it out. This is something I've held close, but it's been to the detriment of my relationship with Shilo. We've both been through so much with each other. and I admit, I've gotten 'soft' when it comes to him.  The 'soft' has nothing to do with my Love for him, it's mostly had to do with me wanting to avoid long periods of silence (our way of "arguing") and because I've felt like crap. The past few weeks Shilo has been very confrontational and critical (unlike him) and instead of rising up against him (which is something I'll often do with Stitch) I just back down quietly and stew in my own juices. This won't continue much longer. Shilo knows I won't allow myself to react in anger, and I often choose to take a "cooling off" period before dealing with things.  This "backing down" isn't "cooling off" it's me retreating in my emotional cave.

If you'll go back up to paragraph 5 (6?) I made mention of my my former Pastor telling me about my duties and warning me of possible consequences that might occur if I shirked them. I only mentioned the sexual there, but there were other warnings as well. What was unknown then (but known now) is that I have bouts of severe depression. Depression doesn't always manifest as sadness. It has many facets. So here I am again, only in the other seat. No threats, promises, warnings, or guarantees. Only an observation: The reaction is retreating and depression, but one day, there will be action. I have no idea what the action will be. I know what I desire. Love is perfect, and I keep my Promises. I guess the last two sentences about covers it.

This took 3 hours from start to finish. Maybe this is my action, or maybe it will inspire positive action in others. Bedtime!

Friday, April 1, 2016

Getting Burned ~ A True Story

Yes, it's April Fools Day, but this isn't a joke. Still, I wish it was...

Sunday, March 27 was Easter. It's a Christian Holiday celebrated by Christians worldwide. However, because I live in the good old U.S. of A, it's become a day of food and fun, much like the Pagan feasts on which they (Christians) borrowed many years ago.

So, on to my story...

Shilo worked on Sunday. In fact, he works every Sunday evening from about 3PM until about 6 the following morning.  In other words, he works a very LONG shift. This is so he works 3 nights a week instead of the traditional 4. This means that any Sunday Holiday is either celebrated Saturday night before, or Thursday night after. I go all out on preparation of Holiday meals.  My planned meal for Easter was ham, gluten-free (I use corn starch instead of flour) potatoes Au gratin, and broccoli.  I bought the bone-in ham, Yukon gold potatoes, cheese and broccoli last Saturday.

I put the ham flat side down in a roaster pan and ignore it. I always make the glaze separate because I prefer to pour it on my meat when I'm eating it. As for the potatoes Au gratin I do most of the potato slicing using the side of my grater, then Shilo takes over cutting the small pieces I leave with a knife. I make the gluten-free cheese sauce while the potatoes are boiling. When the potatoes have boiled long enough, they go into a strainer.  I usually have Stitch help with that, but he was hiding in the bedroom, so Shilo helped instead. Maybe I wasn't clear in how I usually dump the potatoes, but when I dumped, I got a splash-back of boiling water on my right leg.  Yeah, it hurt like a motherfucker, but a little cold water on the spot and I was fine.  That was burn #1.

Burn #2 was when I took the aforementioned ham out of the oven.  Well, not that moment, but when I used the large fork to turn it over to cut, I lost my grip, and splash! went the ham in its juices, and it got all over the tight tank I was wearing. I ran out of the kitchen screaming in pain, all the while pulling off my clothes. I got into a too-cold shower and screamed more. I eventually settled, and got clean. Fortunately, the 4 inch square of burned skin was a light pink, and not as bad as it felt when it happened. I'm pretty sure I did the right thing by pulling my clothes off immediately. Needless to say, Shilo sliced the ham for me to avoid any further injury to me.

I will admit that the food was so good, it was almost worth the burns.  I'm feeling okay today, and the burns are almost completely gone because I took care of them right away.

Thank goodness I don't have to do anymore major cooking till Thanksgiving!