I screwed up with Sir and I don't know how to remedy it. The circumstances are not important here, but the mistake I made was with my desire to be better and to not upset him, so it doubly hurt when I failed. I know I screwed up, but I'm terrified it angered him to the point of him thinking I'm too much to handle and that he's going to feel like I'm not worth dealing with.
I think disappointing your Dominant is probably the most painful thing I've ever felt, even moreso than him yelling at me. *hides* I hope he forgives me. I'd do anything for this to not be the thing that ends us. :(
27 July 2013
Moving soon.
As summer is upon us in full swing, I've been preparing for my move from the Pacific Northwest to the Midwest for a job.
This move is a big one for me. For the first time ever I'll be truly living on my own, no room mates or partners to speak of. While anxiety provoking to be sure, it's also kind of exciting. I'll have my own place to set up, decorate, and really live in as mine. I'm hoping the coming year will bring about a series of things for me, so I figured I would list them here as sort of a "things to keep in mind".
1. Finding myself (is that all? lol)
- I mean this more in a "who am I" when not constrained by the responsibilities to other people that I have had in my life. Without parents or room mates, I'll be able to do what I want, when I want, where I want, and how I want. I'm hoping to find who I am in all of that. Who the pup is when he isn't trying to be everything to everyone else around him. (Though I'll still have to work and be a respectable human being 9-5)
2. Figure out and live my spirituality.
-Similar to number 1, but the availability to have a altar out in the open, to do ceremony when and where I feel, and to be able to smudge or burn incense without room mates complaining that they dont like the smell, ect.
3. Dietary changes
- This is oddly one of the biggest. As there is a rather strict diet my doctor would prefer I live on, I aim to implement this fully after I move. Without having to eat what others cook or fight for the right to use the kitchen we share, it'll be totally on me if I cheat or don't follow my plan. Theoretically, this change could bring about HUGE changes for my body and health.
4. Explore and live my sexuality
-This is a little more complicated, but I'm hoping to get involved in the local Bear and Kink communities while I am there, at least for the social aspect of it. Health issues (physical) make my obvious social anxieties worse, so I'm hoping making more friends will help with some of that. If nothing else, from a solo position, being able to play solo or host if/when I want is a big plus.
This move is a big one for me. For the first time ever I'll be truly living on my own, no room mates or partners to speak of. While anxiety provoking to be sure, it's also kind of exciting. I'll have my own place to set up, decorate, and really live in as mine. I'm hoping the coming year will bring about a series of things for me, so I figured I would list them here as sort of a "things to keep in mind".
1. Finding myself (is that all? lol)
- I mean this more in a "who am I" when not constrained by the responsibilities to other people that I have had in my life. Without parents or room mates, I'll be able to do what I want, when I want, where I want, and how I want. I'm hoping to find who I am in all of that. Who the pup is when he isn't trying to be everything to everyone else around him. (Though I'll still have to work and be a respectable human being 9-5)
2. Figure out and live my spirituality.
-Similar to number 1, but the availability to have a altar out in the open, to do ceremony when and where I feel, and to be able to smudge or burn incense without room mates complaining that they dont like the smell, ect.
3. Dietary changes
- This is oddly one of the biggest. As there is a rather strict diet my doctor would prefer I live on, I aim to implement this fully after I move. Without having to eat what others cook or fight for the right to use the kitchen we share, it'll be totally on me if I cheat or don't follow my plan. Theoretically, this change could bring about HUGE changes for my body and health.
4. Explore and live my sexuality
-This is a little more complicated, but I'm hoping to get involved in the local Bear and Kink communities while I am there, at least for the social aspect of it. Health issues (physical) make my obvious social anxieties worse, so I'm hoping making more friends will help with some of that. If nothing else, from a solo position, being able to play solo or host if/when I want is a big plus.
05 May 2013
Masks and darkness
I'm not talking about puppy or bondage masks here, but maybe I should be. The masks of which I speak are the ones we wear to hide ourselves from the judgments and harsh views of other people. On of the things you learn when you work in mental health is how to compartmentalize...in fact, you couldn't do your job if you did not separate areas of your life from your work.
At the same time, many of us who work in mental health are like shamans...wounded healers using our wisdom and ability to empathize to help other people. When it comes to clients, I empathize...I connect on a deep level with my clients and I have consistently gotten feedback in my training that I have an uncanny ability to meet people where they are at and to help them make changes in their lives.
But who am I when I get home? That's more complicated. Most days, even to coworkers, I put on a facade of happiness. I do this with family, friends, Sir, my coworkers, even my clients. I know we all have to at times, but I exist in my mask. My therapist says I obtained this ability when I was younger by learning early in my development that to ask for what I want and need would result in punishment at the worst, nuisance at the least. But even in my adult life, this has not changed. I find when people tell me to truly tell them how I feel or what I'm thinking, they stop listening. They try to fix my problems or worse, tell me abstractly about their own problems as a way to change the subject. And like a good therapist, I focus on their problems and secretly hate myself for letting them know I had any.
Children have this unique ability to pick up on subtle cues. When you have childhood trauma, this is amplified many times. You can read people and situations...feel tension and pressure in a room or in an interaction at a level most cannot. You notice when people you care about frequently share about their own anxieties, tensions, stressors and worries...and from what they say and you have learned, you know that talking about yours will only add to theirs. You also fear they will look at you differently...like they will see how broken and cracked you are...and they will hate you for it as much as you hate yourself.
My own therapist once said that psychologists are a uniquely wounded bunch, because we are, in many ways, like the shamans of the tribe. We "suck out the poison" so others may walk around and feel less negative things, and we neutralize it in our own times. But when we get overwhelmed we become the poisoned and this leads to professional burn out. A humorous example of this was in the TV show 30 Rock when Kenneth acts as therapist for Liz and the staff, but then becomes overwhelmed by her problems that it takes Jack to act as HIS therapist to crush these problems in his "mind vice".
The point I guess of this is that it is not simply enough to write about one's problems to get them out. It's the feeling that someone actually CARES about the problems and is willing to listen without trying to fix or change them. It's knowing they will comment on them if its online, rather than simply reading it and pretending like they didn't unless it's brought up. It's knowing that they won't be in a foul mood afterwards or throw it back in your face if the information they learn makes them upset or depresses them. Maybe it's because I do this day in and day out that I can hear people's problems without making them totally my own. Maybe other people just don't do that. If that's the case, I'm going to be very lonely for a very very long time. I know in my current living situation, my roommates live with blinders on. I can see when they are in a bad mood when I walk in the door, but they walk around oblivious (or not caring) when I am upset. I should get to bed. Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone.
At the same time, many of us who work in mental health are like shamans...wounded healers using our wisdom and ability to empathize to help other people. When it comes to clients, I empathize...I connect on a deep level with my clients and I have consistently gotten feedback in my training that I have an uncanny ability to meet people where they are at and to help them make changes in their lives.
But who am I when I get home? That's more complicated. Most days, even to coworkers, I put on a facade of happiness. I do this with family, friends, Sir, my coworkers, even my clients. I know we all have to at times, but I exist in my mask. My therapist says I obtained this ability when I was younger by learning early in my development that to ask for what I want and need would result in punishment at the worst, nuisance at the least. But even in my adult life, this has not changed. I find when people tell me to truly tell them how I feel or what I'm thinking, they stop listening. They try to fix my problems or worse, tell me abstractly about their own problems as a way to change the subject. And like a good therapist, I focus on their problems and secretly hate myself for letting them know I had any.
Children have this unique ability to pick up on subtle cues. When you have childhood trauma, this is amplified many times. You can read people and situations...feel tension and pressure in a room or in an interaction at a level most cannot. You notice when people you care about frequently share about their own anxieties, tensions, stressors and worries...and from what they say and you have learned, you know that talking about yours will only add to theirs. You also fear they will look at you differently...like they will see how broken and cracked you are...and they will hate you for it as much as you hate yourself.
My own therapist once said that psychologists are a uniquely wounded bunch, because we are, in many ways, like the shamans of the tribe. We "suck out the poison" so others may walk around and feel less negative things, and we neutralize it in our own times. But when we get overwhelmed we become the poisoned and this leads to professional burn out. A humorous example of this was in the TV show 30 Rock when Kenneth acts as therapist for Liz and the staff, but then becomes overwhelmed by her problems that it takes Jack to act as HIS therapist to crush these problems in his "mind vice".
The point I guess of this is that it is not simply enough to write about one's problems to get them out. It's the feeling that someone actually CARES about the problems and is willing to listen without trying to fix or change them. It's knowing they will comment on them if its online, rather than simply reading it and pretending like they didn't unless it's brought up. It's knowing that they won't be in a foul mood afterwards or throw it back in your face if the information they learn makes them upset or depresses them. Maybe it's because I do this day in and day out that I can hear people's problems without making them totally my own. Maybe other people just don't do that. If that's the case, I'm going to be very lonely for a very very long time. I know in my current living situation, my roommates live with blinders on. I can see when they are in a bad mood when I walk in the door, but they walk around oblivious (or not caring) when I am upset. I should get to bed. Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone.
25 April 2013
Pre-therapy
I have therapy in the morning again, and to be honest I'm dreading it a bit.
Other than processing past traumas, reopening wounds of the past with different knives and eyes, this sums up pretty much my emotions as of late.
My expectations sabotage me. But my therapist says there is a line between not expecting perfection and not allowing others to recreate the mistakes of the past. My past mistakes are allowing men I'm dating/fucking/in love with to do things with others they won't/can't do with me...not fighting for my own rights in relationships, and allowing others to take advantage of me. It's hard to combat that when you are a submissive and it feels like it goes against everything you know to say "I want and need this".
Other than processing past traumas, reopening wounds of the past with different knives and eyes, this sums up pretty much my emotions as of late.
My expectations sabotage me. But my therapist says there is a line between not expecting perfection and not allowing others to recreate the mistakes of the past. My past mistakes are allowing men I'm dating/fucking/in love with to do things with others they won't/can't do with me...not fighting for my own rights in relationships, and allowing others to take advantage of me. It's hard to combat that when you are a submissive and it feels like it goes against everything you know to say "I want and need this".
15 April 2013
I'm back
It's been a long time since I posted, but so much has happened.
While all of it isn't appropriate to post here, I will say that it's been a rough few months. From a personal standpoint, I've been struggling...and really trying to find ways to open myself up emotionally and sexually.
I'm also discovering there are things I want and need sexually that Sir isn't in to providing. It isn't a judgement on him, it is just that being apart...there are things I need to feel sexual and sexually connected that I don't get. I'm still trying to figure out how to get those needs met. Anyway, I wanted to update this blog, and hopefully will be more diligent in updating. I don't think folks actually read it, but it'd be good for me to do regardless.
While all of it isn't appropriate to post here, I will say that it's been a rough few months. From a personal standpoint, I've been struggling...and really trying to find ways to open myself up emotionally and sexually.
I'm also discovering there are things I want and need sexually that Sir isn't in to providing. It isn't a judgement on him, it is just that being apart...there are things I need to feel sexual and sexually connected that I don't get. I'm still trying to figure out how to get those needs met. Anyway, I wanted to update this blog, and hopefully will be more diligent in updating. I don't think folks actually read it, but it'd be good for me to do regardless.
31 January 2013
Memories of touch
Sometimes I think humans forget how important it is to actually touch another person, to hold and be held by them. I think we take it for granted until it is not there and then it aches when we realize how much we miss it. Touch is important. Without it, babies die. Children fail to thrive, and adults develop a loneliness that is indescribable.
As I was walking this morning, I felt enveloped in the dense fog that hung under the grey sky up here in the hills. I thought about my job and my private life...and then I felt sadness. I realized I had not been hugged or held since I was on the East Coast with Sir back in early Fall. Three months with no physical contact, save a brief hug at the airport and shaking hands with coworkers.
This mornings fog reminded me fondly of mornings where my roommate would come into my room, pull back the covers and slide in. He'd spoon up against me and wrap his muscled arms around me and just hold me against him...and like an excited child I'd lay there...my breath quick for a while, afraid to move or disturb him. Eventually I'd fall asleep, occasionally pushing back against him in bed.
I craved these moments. Not because there was romance there (we both knew it was nothing of the sort), and not even because it was sexual (as we have never had sex). But sometimes he would grind against me, or he'd wrestle me down on the bed and pin me on my back or my stomach and bite me, not hard...but just enough of a nip to make my loins ache. Despite that ache, I knew it would not go further, so I ignored the ache and just simply enjoyed it. On days when my ex was gone, I'd sometimes sneak into my roommate's room and perch on the edge of the bed...waiting for permission to come in. I was so anxious he'd say no (and he sometimes did)...but sometimes he'd pull the covers back, I'd slide in not touching him...and wait for him to pull me to him. It was intoxicating.
I still remember the scent of his skin in those mornings, that natural scent that smells like your skin was kissed by the sun and he'd squeeze me and for brief periods I felt energized and safe. Sometimes after a bad day, or a horrible family encounter I'd hug him and he'd hug me back. Not that hug random guys give each other with a slap on the back or even a church "side hug". These were embraces that made me feel like everything would be okay.
Those days are gone now, but I miss them. I feel a distance between us now, something I cannot put my finger on. But some mornings I wake up and wish he would knock and come in for early morning snuggles. He closes his door now, so I know his bed is off limits to me, a fragment of a fleeting moment in time when he felt comfortable sharing that need between two men. Sometime it feels like a dream, like it was never real...but then I remember that feeling of connection and warmth without expectations or assumptions. Just two men holding each other, holding the outside world back.
As I was walking this morning, I felt enveloped in the dense fog that hung under the grey sky up here in the hills. I thought about my job and my private life...and then I felt sadness. I realized I had not been hugged or held since I was on the East Coast with Sir back in early Fall. Three months with no physical contact, save a brief hug at the airport and shaking hands with coworkers.
This mornings fog reminded me fondly of mornings where my roommate would come into my room, pull back the covers and slide in. He'd spoon up against me and wrap his muscled arms around me and just hold me against him...and like an excited child I'd lay there...my breath quick for a while, afraid to move or disturb him. Eventually I'd fall asleep, occasionally pushing back against him in bed.
I craved these moments. Not because there was romance there (we both knew it was nothing of the sort), and not even because it was sexual (as we have never had sex). But sometimes he would grind against me, or he'd wrestle me down on the bed and pin me on my back or my stomach and bite me, not hard...but just enough of a nip to make my loins ache. Despite that ache, I knew it would not go further, so I ignored the ache and just simply enjoyed it. On days when my ex was gone, I'd sometimes sneak into my roommate's room and perch on the edge of the bed...waiting for permission to come in. I was so anxious he'd say no (and he sometimes did)...but sometimes he'd pull the covers back, I'd slide in not touching him...and wait for him to pull me to him. It was intoxicating.
I still remember the scent of his skin in those mornings, that natural scent that smells like your skin was kissed by the sun and he'd squeeze me and for brief periods I felt energized and safe. Sometimes after a bad day, or a horrible family encounter I'd hug him and he'd hug me back. Not that hug random guys give each other with a slap on the back or even a church "side hug". These were embraces that made me feel like everything would be okay.
Those days are gone now, but I miss them. I feel a distance between us now, something I cannot put my finger on. But some mornings I wake up and wish he would knock and come in for early morning snuggles. He closes his door now, so I know his bed is off limits to me, a fragment of a fleeting moment in time when he felt comfortable sharing that need between two men. Sometime it feels like a dream, like it was never real...but then I remember that feeling of connection and warmth without expectations or assumptions. Just two men holding each other, holding the outside world back.
20 January 2013
Pathetic puppies are not desired puppies
This was going to be a post on Daddy/boy dynamics, but my heart isn't in it right now. I have the draft saved on my HD, so maybe I'll edit it tomorrow and post it in a few days.
I went to bed last night depressed and lonely. Honestly, it was a depression I hadn't felt in a long time and I still feel it today. I watch people I know post about crazy sex parties and leather events they go to and I feel a sort of worthlessness around all of it. Because I know if I was at that con, I'd be sitting alone in my hotel room, feeling too self-conscious about my body to actually go get the thing I really want.
My roommate doesn't understand it, but that is because people throw themselves at him sexually. I don't know what thats like to be honest. People who tell me its about quality, not quantity...are also people who get a lot more quantity than I do. I sat alone last night thinking about how the sexual prime of my 20's has been spent doing graduate school work and hating myself...which hasn't really changed and my 20s are almost over.
Sometimes I feel too pathetic for my own good. I'm going to crawl back in bed for the day.
I went to bed last night depressed and lonely. Honestly, it was a depression I hadn't felt in a long time and I still feel it today. I watch people I know post about crazy sex parties and leather events they go to and I feel a sort of worthlessness around all of it. Because I know if I was at that con, I'd be sitting alone in my hotel room, feeling too self-conscious about my body to actually go get the thing I really want.
My roommate doesn't understand it, but that is because people throw themselves at him sexually. I don't know what thats like to be honest. People who tell me its about quality, not quantity...are also people who get a lot more quantity than I do. I sat alone last night thinking about how the sexual prime of my 20's has been spent doing graduate school work and hating myself...which hasn't really changed and my 20s are almost over.
Sometimes I feel too pathetic for my own good. I'm going to crawl back in bed for the day.
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