studentofgrace

Friday July 26, 2013

6:19 PM

I used to have a Dom friend whom I would tell that I was a pain in the ass. His response was that no, I was not. I was complicated, and if something (or someone) was not complicated, it (she) was not interesting, and hence, not worth his time. With that being said, I am complicated.

I had a good talk with another dom friend today. There were a lot of things that we talked about. One thing was that there is a guy that I met on second life, and have really enjoyed spending time with the last few days… so much so that it makes me wonder if an online romance might be good for me. This friend asked me about what I thought I wanted from such a relationship, what needs were not being met elsewhere in my life, and might be fulfilled in such a place. There was something about talking to him, it made me realize one of the needs that was missing in my last D/s relationship. I hope this is making sense, because it feels so rambly that I’m not sure it will. Anyhow, I continually found myself frustrated that no one was saying much when they read my journals. I felt like I would put in so much time and energy, and that it was making no difference at all, that my energies were wasted. Another repeated frustration was that Mistress wanted to know what I needed in a relationship, and I didn’t know. I had no idea in fact, let ALONE how to tell her what was wrong…. Except that I kept asking to talk about my journals. I coudlnt’ tell her why I wanted to talk, or what was wrong, just that I wanted to talk about them. Today I realized in talking to my friend that one of the things that I need in a D/s relationship is someone, a Greg or a Scott who understands more of me than what I do. Someone who has some understanding and appreciation of psychology, and can help me interpret what’s going on, who can make sense of the little bits and pieces that I am throwing out there by talking through things with me. My journals were my part of opening a discussion. From there, I think that someone needs to help me figure out what are the pieces that I’m missing, and help me plug those in. For example, I mentioned today that feel so heavy, so burdened in my daily life that I really needed a place that I don’t feel like that. Talking to him, one thing that he mentioned was that I feel like that because submissives, in an absence of leadership, feel the need to fill in that gap themselves. There can’t be NO ONE leading, so we try to fill the hole, even though we are clearly not wired for it, and it’s an overwhelming responsibility for us… hence my heavy burden all the time.  I needed my journals to be a jumping off point, a place to start conversation to help me understand myself better, to make sense of what is going on in my life. Two big things that were lacking were depth of conversation, and the lack of understanding of myself and what’s going on with me.  I need *someone* who picks up on the cues that I’m sending out and missing myself. I think that one of the things that was weighing down the relationship even further was when she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, it became my job to go to her and tell her what I needed, which only left me all the more burdened and frustrated, feeling even heavier than I already did.

Blah! Hindsight is 20/20. It’s really hard for me to say anything that I think might not be well received, so even saying these things is hard for me. I’m afraid, well, I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. I guess that I’m afraid  what I say will be taken as me being critical and hurtful.  *sighs*  Another thing that I know that I need is a lot of affection. I realize that I’m looking for an online relationship, wheither it’s D/s or something else, but I need the descriptions of the touch, the role play of it. I’m sure it sounds incredibly silly to some people, and I don’t know how to explain why it matters so much to me. I just know that its something that I can’t give up. It’s something that I need desperately. There is safety, security, and love in that touch. Maybe not for everyone, but there is for me.

Well, I guess that wraps it up for tonight. I should probably say that we’re going to the fair tomorrow. I’m really excited about it, as is my family. I’m sure that I’ll be exhausted by the time that I get home. It will be good for me though, getting out of the house and all… something that doesn’t happen much any more. See you all later.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

4:51 PM

I have a headache right now. I guess the good news is that I didn’t wake up with it, but still… I’m getting annoyed with it.  I’ve been watching a new series on Netflix the last couple of days. It’s called Merlin. I’ve seen a couple episodes on the scifi channel. It’s a decent series.

I woke up today with my mind busy, like seems to happen so often. I have to admit, this is one of those journals that I suspect that I will send, because I always do but that I have to say, I am not sure that I want to write. I’ve been thinking about for a good chunk of the day, and longer, but that I didn’t think I would actually write. And after I thought about writing it, I didn’t think I would send it.

The images flitting through my head have seemed poetic to me, which is ironic, because I am not much of a poet. Honestly, I’m not even sure how I’ve come to be a writer, although it’s hard for me to argue at this point that I am not. I have written a few poems… I would not say that they are anything special though… simple little things. I guess the important part of any writing is that it expresses one’s heart though.  I’m not sure what my point was in all of that, I guess to say that  I’m torn and perhaps a bit tormented right now, feeling unsure of what I want, what I need, even of who I am, I fear.

I guess that was a paragraph all about nothing. Except that now I feel close to tears. *sighs*

Right now, I’m enchanted by the idea of sleep. The idea is to slip below the glassy surface of the lake, to feel the release of the pressures of life. There I escape to another life, one where the requirements are not so high, where responsibilities are met without the great price that I usually pay… the bearing of my soul. I’m not talking about the nakedness of my journals, but the heaviness, the weightiness of… once again words fail me. I don’t know how to describe the pressures I feel in life, the agonies, and the crushing pressure of life.

There are times that I feel a pull to life above the water, that I hear a call to stay with someone. I feel great guilt for not wanting to live in the same reality that most do.  I suppose that is one of the pressures of life that weighs me down.  Those voices, those ties to “life above” used to be louder, stronger. I guess that their strength is relative to the pressure I feel to submerse myself back into the land of my dreams. Perhaps they are like strands of silk, like those that form a spider web, or a cocoon. I don’t know what makes the difference between the silk of items like that, compared to that of a parachute. All I know is that one is wispy, sticky, and not particularly strong, while the other is known for its strength.  I think what I used to have was more like the parachute, although today, I feel that what is left for me are the few strands of a spider web… with little strength to save me, and getting weaker by the day, with less and less call to bring me back from my slumberings.

I don’t know what the answers are. I don’t even know what the questions are to ask to FIND the answers that I seek. Perhaps my journey is to wander, whether above the waters or below, seeking, always questioning, always alone, always painfully. Alone.

I currently have a Mistress, and am not looking for a D/s relationship. I *am* still interested in making new friends, and having intelligent conversation. Currently, Mistress and I are looking to redefine our relationship, and I am looking for input as to what folks are getting from their D/s relationship, what they are looking for, and what they feel is their contribution. 

I look forward to hearing from you!

grace

I have discovered that I'm interested in Gor, and would love to find someone interested in palace Gor espeically. I tend to be rather shy, so I have a hard time initiating conversation. Please feel free to start conversation with me, but don't expect that I'm going to obey you as soon as we start to talk.

Let me start with this. I am a big complicated mess. If you are not up for a hell of a project, please don't bother to write. Also, I am not sure that "online romance" is quite the right category for me, but since the online part is right, I decided to mark that so that what I am looking for is a bit more clear.

I've been thinking about what to write here for months. I'm still not sure what to write, but I'm going to give it a shot.

I've spent the last year finding out things I never would have dreamed, mostly about myself. I've come to understand that I am submissive, but I've spent most of my life running away from that, as to me it seems a vulnerable and scary place to live life from.

I've heard subs say from time to time that they don't make good decisions, that they make a mess of their lives. That's not quite the case with me. I am a control freak, and I make pretty good decisions most of the time. I guess the best way to say it is that being the one in charge of all of my life is stressful and sometimes even overwhelming for me. I guess the magic word for all of life is balance. I'm still working on that one.

I'm not looking for a real life relationship... but I am interested in finding an online dominant. I don't expect that to be an easy thing to find. I have pretty high expectations in that regard, and it will take time to earn my trust. If you aren't willing to take that time, you aren't the right guy for me.

I am a very sensitive and complex person. My Myers Briggs personality profile is INFJ, and this tells a lot about me. http://www.personalitypage.com/INFJ.html

I have come to realize that I am looking for a very nurturing relationship. Some have suggested that a DaddyDom would be ideal, and while I see this as a possibility, I think that there are others as well. In any case, it takes a lot of time and communication for me to build the trust I need to be able to turn over any of my choices to someone else.

Thanks for reading, and I look forward to talking to you.

grace

Tuesday May 22, 2012

2:40 PM

Stand! (Again)

It’s funny to notice the date. Today is my parents’ anniversary, their forty-first, to be precise.  There are so very many things that I learned growing up. One of the first things that I know I learned was when I was around two. My dad yelled a lot. I know now that he was a rage-a-holic. I don’t think that I even had words yet then though. Heh. Well, it was me, so maybe there were some. Anyhow, I know that I developed this thing called magical thinking. In my case, I came to believe that somehow, at the age of two, it was my job to “make things go smoothly” in our house. When I was two, my brother had just been born a few months before that, so he was four months old. I think that at that point we had two Dobermans, and a bird. So there were two adults, a toddler, a newborn, two dogs and a bird, and I thought that as a TODDLER it was my job to make everything go smoothly in our house so that my dad wouldn’t get angry. I guess my expectations started out high, didn’t they?

When I was about six my mom was fixing my hair, probably putting it up in pigtails, because she thought it was really cute that way. Being a restless little kid, I didn’t sit still very well while she did it. I don’t think she was particularly interested in being gentle about it either, but at any rate, she was getting irritated with me. She told me that I could either sit still and let her do my hair, or I could  get it cut. My school pictures the following year showed me with a short hair cut. I remember working with my hair as it grew back out. By the time I was in third grade I did anything I wanted to with my hair by myself. I could French braid my own hair in third grade. My oldest daughter is in fourth grade and I still brush her hair for her. Somewhere in there I decided that I couldn’t trust my parents to do things for me, so I needed to do anything that I could for myself.

When I think about the games I played in elementary school, I don’t remember ever playing games that took imagination. I played games that had RULES, because I could figure those out without help. At recess, I played Chinese jumprope, or four square.  I didn’t play with Barbie dolls, like other girls. I did their hair. Why else would a girl have a doll, after all? I didn’t want to try new things, things where I had to be vulnerable and people could see that I didn’t know what I was doing. My dad used any information like that to either make fun of me or to be critical. Why on earth would I give him ammunition to use against me when I could avoid it?

I have decided that there are two kinds of people in this world. There are critics, and there are cheerleaders. Critics point out everything wrong with every situation they observe. Cheerleaders are encouragers, pointing out any and everything good they can find. They are the people that help others want to venture out into the world. They make the cushion for when the budding acrobat falls. They are the ones who help people become bold and courageous.

I have spent a lot of my life, hidden in the shadows, afraid to venture out, since I now carry the voices of critics in my head. I didn’t try out for choir, or sports teams, because I already knew that I wasn’t good enough. And I couldn’t practice, because that would be showing weakness, in that I didn’t already have something mastered.

I’m not a bold, fiery personality who is going to take on the world.  I’m not going to sit on the sidelines anymore though, either.  I’m done with that. My way of taking back my life and all the things I’ve missed is to surround myself with cheerleaders, to shut out the critics, and keep mustering the courage to get up and try again. I don’t want to put my faults and failures out there for the world to see, but I’m not going to keep from having them by not living any longer. I’m a fraidy cat. I’m incredibly scared of new things.  I can’t control things that I don’t know are coming, so I can’t keep the seas calm. There will always be critics who manage to get around my barricade, and me trying new things is going to be fodder for their catcalls. I’m going to end up with skinned knees, and the voices of critics, the ones who are now internal, telling me each thing I’ve done wrong, and how I’ve failed.  I hear those voices. It seems that I listen for a while.

But there is a difference.  I’m not stopping with that. I keep my network of cheerleaders around me. (They are on yahoo while I’m at school!)

"Stand"

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you've lost your fight
But you'll be alright, you'll be alright

[Chorus:]
Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend, till you break
Cause its all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad you get strong
Wipe your hands shake it off
Then you Stand, Then you stand
Life's like a novel
With the end ripped out
The edge of a canyon
With only one way down
Take what you're given before its gone
Start holding on, keep holding on

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend till you break
Cause it's all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand, then you stand

Everytime you get up
And get back in the race
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place
Oh

[Repeat Chorus]

This song doesn’t represent for me the role of my support network, or as I think I will call then in the future, my cheerleaders. They are the ones who keep telling me that it’s worth getting up, that I WILL get there, and that I can do it!

And each and every time I’m scared shitless when I get up to try again. And that’s okay.

Wednesday, May 15, 2012
7:45 PM

I'm really frustrated right now, and feeling pretty down. It's not like I"m not clear about what I'm looking for in a dom from the start. I don't have five minutes of conversation with a dom without making it clear that I'm looking for a nonsexual relationship. Why the fuck is that so damn hard for everyone to comprehend? It's not fucking rocket science! I've told them. My husband knows that I'm submissive. I don't hide this from him. My agreement with him is that this be a nonsexual relationship. That includes things like no camming less than fully dressed, or controlling things like my orgasms. If you have more questions, please ask, but that gave you a pretty fucking good idea of what I can't do. This is not just about me, but about my marriage. Just because none of you fuckers has any integrity, please quit making it that the entire world is that way. *sighs* Okay, that was my frustration. I try to not judge other people. I try to accept them as they are. That doesn't mean that I use no discrimination, but I really try to accept people as they are.

I was in a really good space on Monday. Finding a new friend and new places to hang out was a really good thing for me. I'm a bit discouraged with having not had that contact for a few days, but I'm trying to just relax and be patient. The thing with the dom today was a huge discouragement to me. I didn't go for my walk. I guess that one of the biggest things I need in a dom is for him to be willing to own his own shit. There are tons of people in the world who make mistakes, but it takes a special kind of courage for someone to admit when he is wrong, to step up and say, "That one was on me. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry."

Like I said, I'm really frustrated with that right now. I'm really trying to not let myself sink back down again though. My "automatic" is to make it my fault, to interpret their actions as a reflection on me, that I am not worth them treating me decent. There is a part of me that still feels that way, but I'm really trying to not own that this time. It's really hard for me to hang on to though, when I have been looking for what feels like forever without finding that special person that I'm looking for. As much interaction as I have with people, it's surprising that I can be so incredibly lonely.

A friend today made a comment about how needy I am. I know that it was not intended to be negative in any way, but it's always hard for me to hear it. I feel great shame that I need such constant attention. I feel like I'm faulty, defective, in need of repair.... broken..... except that I have no idea what kind of repair I'm in need of. One thing I do know.... I want so badly for someone to love me. I want someone to WANT to be with me. It sounds so incredibly stupid to me.... *sighs*

Today I am content to just hang on to hope. It takes a lot to do that today, but I'm trying.

March 22, 2012

11:30 AM

The First Step

I don’t know what’s going on this morning, but I want food. I want everything that I’m not supposed to have. I guess I’m doing a fairly effective job at pushing down the emotions, because I can’t tell what it is that wants to come up. Can I honestly look at the same time I’m trying to push down? Is that possible? I don’t know.

I think this is the leftovers from having gotten triggered last night. Is it possible to get triggered by the idea of letting go of all the anger and hate? It sure seems so at the moment.  I have so much anger and hate….. I guess this is the perfect epitome of a paradox.

A few days ago I felt like maybe I could possibly get there, like the prize might make it something that I could focus on, that could inspire me to let go of what feels like my RIGHT. Makes me think of that Dr. Phil quote. “Great! You’re right! How’s that working for you?”

Last night I was telling just a little thing that had happened earlier to Tim. I got to the end and he asked me if I was done. I got triggered.  I don’t know how the fuck I can put so much into so few words. And yet, I can so perfectly hear it from my dad. It’s not about the words. It’s the tone of voice, the inflections, the rest of what’s going on, the body language….. His words say one thing, but the rest all says the exact opposite. And when I respond to his body language, then he tells me how that wasn’t at all what he said.

Yesterday I could conceive of the idea of forgiveness. My heart was at least somewhat tender, malleable. Today I feel hurt, angry, and wounded. I don’t want to let anyone in today.

And then I think of that little girl. The one sitting, trying to hide in a corner, tear streaked face, incredibly fearful, startled by every noise. She tries to put on a brave face, to not look the part that she fits so well. It’s ironic. That little girl has been my motive since long before I really understood she existed. She is my motive to get well, to be a good parent, to protect my children, even when so much around me argues they don’t need protection.

And here I am, torn between two incredibly powerful arguments as to how to best take care of her, and of my three. One of the things that I’ve said about mY is that I don’t want her to get shredded before she finds the right one, that dom who can help her find the right shelter, the right protection from the very, very harsh, cruel world. My protection has been to harden myself. From as early as I can remember I have told myself that I don’t have a choice. I have done what I felt I had to do to survive, to get through with as little damage as possible. I mean, forgiving him feels like walking up to him and saying “Okay, do whatever the hell you want to me. It’s fine. I’ll just take it.” I mean, how on earth is that not SUICIDE?!

And then there are people around me, people whom I trust who are telling me that FORGIVING him is the only way I’m going to find freedom. It totally feels like I’m kneeling in front of him, waiting for him to take that big fucking scimitar, or sword, or whatever the hell it is, and  lop off my head in one nice, fluid motion.

Okay, this is my personal journal, but since I share it with a few people, please make note right here, I am NOT suicidal, nor will I be. If there was only one reason for me, I could never leave that kind of legacy for my children to deal with. If they were gone for some reason, then there would be my nephews and my niece. If you got past them, then there would be other people I care about whom I would not curse with such a thing. Now, on with my journal, keeping that in perspective.

There have been so many times that I have thought about being so tired, so overwhelmed, feeling like it would be so fucking incredibly much easier to just quit….. I told Heath the other day that I used to keep a razor blade in one of my school books, that I think it was chemistry, although in hind sight, knowing that I took chem my senior year, that it was actually physics. Anyhow, I used to fantasize about my funeral, about who would come. I knew my family would be there, but they would not be there from love, from caring about me, but out of obligation. Past that, I didn’t know who would come. I figured some of the people from church, but it was hard for me to believe that there would be much of any one that would care.

I haven’t been telling people how bad the depression has been. I guess I haven’t wanted to deal with all the doting, with the smothering over something that isn’t really an accurate perspective anyhow.  Is it wrong that I find comfort in the fantasy of dying? It’s no wonder my house is a wreck. I need to keep up with school, but the house? Not seeming so pressing to me. I guess it’s at least kinda good for me that I have school that demands such focus from me. Between school and my family, even the fucking family drama doesn’t have much time to haunt me. I guess I’ll just have to squeeze that in to other slots.

Yeah, I feel pretty fucking cynical.

My mom has purposely maintained her level of naivety. I can’t conceive of doing that personally. And yet, somehow that is exactly what I see this letting go as doing. It’s seems to me just about as possible as trying to have Eve “uneat” the fruit. Even if you bring in the concept of purging, it might take away the calories, but there is a hell of a lot that it doesn’t change. Some things just can NOT be undone. There  simply is not a rewind button on life.

How about a washing machine though?

I don’t know why this keeps coming to mind, but I quit fighting myself on these things. I keep thinking of Heath the other day, asking me if I really felt that there was any one who really loved me, needed me, something like that. I can’t remember quite what he asked. I just remember that I could see him asking if my kids qualify. I told him no, and that my kids were not a fair response. Kids are just kids. They are not supposed to have jobs. Not like chores, but like a role, with responsibilities like providing love and acceptance for a parent. That is MY job, my responsibility toward THEM!

Just like it was his responsibility toward me.

Can I take care of my kids without that hate and anger? Would I be a better parent toward them? My entire argument has been based on the idea that I can’t be the caretaker, the protector, the provider without my hate.

I hope and pray that the day comes when my children understand the things I have done for them. Having someone appreciate a gift, the time, the energy, the work, and in this case, the pain….. I guess it makes it a bit easier to give.

Okay…. I need to look at what it would like to be that other person. What would it be like to be that girl without the bitterness, the anger, and the hate? What would it be like to go through life without them? What would it be like to interact with my kids? Would it mean that I don’t have to stop and get a handle on my anger before I address them? Would the affection come naturally without me having to pretend? Without having to put on my mask that everything is wonderful with life?

How would it affect my relationship with my husband? Would it eliminate, or even lessen my irritation with him? Would it perhaps make it less difficult to set aside my frustration with him when something doesn’t go the way I’d prefer?

What if I left out all the other people, and just looked at what *I* would look like without that anger and hurt? Would it affect all those fucking triggers? Would there be fewer tears? Would there be less anger? What about food? Would I learn to eat solely for the enjoyment of food, and not for its medicating attributes? Would I finally be able to get a handle on my weight? Is there any possibility at all that my weight would manage itself? At a level that I could be proud of? Wouldn’t that be the biggest fucking irony ever? If I lost the weight and got comfortable with my body as a result of letting go of the perfect little image from my dad, the one that fills me with such shame and hatred toward myself? In the last couple of years, I’ve finally gotten to the point where I *like* to take pics of myself sometimes, where I don’t find humiliation and shame in those places, well, at least not as much. Is it possible that I would ever come to really like, even love the person in the mirror? It’s so easy for me to tell mY or Kadi that I love them, and it’s so completely true. And yet, what is it I feel for that reflection? I guess it varies with the day. Maybe it’s not contempt, but it sure as hell isn’t pride, love, or joy.

Heath tells me that my self-image is related to my dad’s perspectives. I honestly did not realize that until he said it. After, though, I can see that possibility. If I’d heard it from most people, I think I’d have told them they were absolutely full of shit. There are a few people whom I trust enough that I’d have to talk to a lot of other people, but that I would not have immediately discounted it. Maybe it was the shock of it, since it never occurred to me previously.

After having had a couple of days to consider it, though, and having talked to other people, I think that I believe him. I’ve had enough people, and not just any people, but those who have earned credibility with me, there have been enough of those people who have told me that I CAN protect both myself and my family without the hate….. Well, I think I believe them. It’s not the kind of knowing that I can feel, that intuitively I just KNOW. It is, however, the kind that I’m willing to count on, the kind that I am willing to sit in the chair that I can’t see, or to let the people behind me catch as I fall backward. That doesn’t make the fear go away. I told someone recently that I didn’t have any faith. Maybe I’ve got more than I thought. It seems to me that this is a complete act of faith. *laughs* Okay, that is clearly not the case, since my clock now says 4:11 and I started this journal at 11:30. Nearly five hours and two thousand words is NOT just an act of faith. I guess I’m a person who might be able to believe without tasting the pudding, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt to see that my gamble is really gonna pay off.

I feel like I’ve taken the first step of a million mile journey. It’s funny though, how it makes a change in what I see in the mirror already.

Tuesday January 17, 2012

10:39 AM

Love Sucks

I’ve had things rolling around in my head a lot since last night. I ended things with Bruce a few days ago. I guess that was on Saturday. Since then I have been looking for another dom on CollarMe. I’ve been talking to MOL fairly often too. He knew that things ended with Bruce, and he has been trying to be available, I think, to be a support since I don’t have Bruce to lean on.

I feel like this is going to sound extremely random, but I guess that the best way to get it out is to just start writing. Normally when I do that, things come out okay, so here goes.

I have this picture of me in my head. It’s of me as a little girl, feeling very unsure, very burdened. I feel like things are so heavy, they weigh the girl down so that she can hardly move. She has these people around her, the people in her life. The picture that I have is almost like a video game. She started out with the people that were the closest to her, the most obvious: her parents. As things came to her, it’s almost like with her parents the things that came were left first with them, as they should have been. When children are very young they are not able to handle even small things. Parents are supposed to manage such burdens, giving them to the child gradually, as the child progresses in development. Eventually, as the child gets older, the burden has shifted almost entirely to her. That’s what parents do! They help the child learn to manage the pieces of life. By that time though, she has grown and is ready for the burden. It’s not so overwhelming for her.

The problem in my case  though, is that first, I should be an adult but the little girl never grew up. She is still so young, so vulnerable, and the burden is SO fucking heavy! The other thing that’s wrong here is that her parents shifted more than she was able to handle though when she was young. She didn’t believe that she could show them weakness though, so she did her best to deal with the burden, even though she could barely stand up under it. Somewhere along the way she found out that other people would carry some of the pieces of her load for her, that they wanted to help. The problem was finding the ones that were reliable, the ones that would hold things without running, without asking for things in return for helping, who would not hold the things they carried against me, using them to manipulate me later. Like I said earlier, it’s like a video game, pacman or something, where as I find another person worthy of that level of trust a new section on the board opens up. I have new freedom there, new power. There is a lightness about me, and a peace. That peace is what drives me to keep looking.

When I find one that I can’t trust, I stay away from them except when I need to. I allow them to hold for me, but only what I am okay with being dropped or broken. I sure as hell don’t trust them with my affection.

I think that I develop a special affection for the ones that show me over time that I can trust them. A freedom develops in that place, almost like the gravity of life is lessened, partially suspended in a certain zone. I think that it’s probably closer to those certain people carry the extra weight for me. As I grow to trust those certain people more and more, there is an affection that develops. I think that it’s a natural process, that it’s expected. It happens in places where the parents do a good job with raising their children. The kids trust the parents, love them. How can I help but to come to love the people that are there for me, the ones that provide safety and shelter for me.

I think that the twist comes because the first people that I should have loved were not the stable, dependable people that they should have been. I came to mistrust them, and to reserve my love with them. I guess that for those people love and trust are twisted together, somewhat like there are two pieces of wire and the outer paper covering in a bread tie. You cannot take them apart without tearing the tie apart, taking away its usefulness.  Because the trust has been destroyed, the love is very damaged. That was my template. Without that I have no model for how to deal with the rest of the world.

I think another piece of the puzzle is that level of development. It sounds crazy, like something out of a book or something,  to say that I feel that emotionally I am still a child. Even so, I feel that it’s true. I hate that my emotions are so childish! I want them to be able to discern, to make *wise* choices, not such babyish ones.

Let’s just boil things down here. I am afraid to love men. That does not mean falling in love, just to clarify, but I am afraid of a love developing for a man. I don’t mean romance, but of caring for someone, of trusting him, of loving him. If I love him, he has so much more to hurt me with.

Love is a knife… a very SHARP knife, and I think it has poison on the tip.

It seems stupid to be so afraid of something that develops so naturally. What child doesn’t love her parents? Love is born of innocence, of trust, and of affection. It comes from kindness, and from safety.  A child grows to love those she looks to for safety, be it physical or emotional.  I guess that love causes a person to feel secure, to let down their guard. It’s basically that love is trusting that I don’t need to protect myself because the other person will protect me.

Love sucks!

June 4, 2011 8:15 PM

I am having one of those moments (the many many MANY moments) where I ask myself why. At the moment, the why has to do with why do I need to tell people what is going on inside my head. For a long time I have used the reason about secrets, that we are as sick as our secrets. I know that those things are what hold me, what have the power over me. Tonight, as I thought about why I send my journals primarily to two specific people I again felt so very self conscious about doing so.  I don't know how to explain, but there is a part of me that feels so vulnerable, maybe even ashamed of all the things that I have told them. Is it still true? Do I still have freedom from having told those secrets?

A new thought occurred to me today, and I'm not really sure what to do with it. It has finally crossed my mind that telling these things on myself is a very submissive kind of thing to do. I guess that would be that in a way, telling those things make me very vulnerable. I can see how the correlation comes to me that it is such a submissive thing. (I have been noticing that I say "I guess" with incredible frequency. I am trying to use it less in my writing.) As I think of this all, I feel my anxiety level being fairly high. It seems that perhaps I should start making notation of where that is. I would say that I am probably at about a five on a scale of one to ten. It's always amazing to me how fast my stress level goes down when I talk about it. I'm not quite sure how that works, but regardless, it seems to occur. The next thing that crosses my mind is that I want sweets. It's sad to me how fast that kicks in, how automatic it is.

Not that I am really ready for a new thought, but I rambled enough in that paragraph to start again. Perhaps I use the phrase "I guess" so often because so much of my journaling  is about posing questions, about searching for answers in a place where things are not concrete. It's my job to draw my best guess, not the absolute truth, as such cannot really be known in these cases.

So why is it that I am reconsidering these two people who have read so very many of my journals? I'm sure that I don't like that vulnerability, that level of exposure. I have had so very many people who proved not to be worthy of my trust. These two have not been that way, though, so where are these doubts coming from? ARE they doubts? Or am I just noting the level of discomfort in my exposure? Maybe there is a sadness that I need it. Maybe it is a part of the submissiveness for me. I don't really like that either, and yet, it's who I am, and what I need. Is it wrong to grieve the fact that I am submissive, that I need to expose these things about myself?

Ironically, I think that who I would be, what my life would look like if I did not says that this is not a thing to be mourned, but celebrated. It takes strength for me to continue to share, to be vulnerable with these people. The fight to continue, well, the source of that strength has a lot to do with being strong willed, with the will to get better, to be well. I don't know how to explain. i just know that I have to keep going. I want the freedom that I get from telling on myself. I know that it helps me feel that it's worthwhile for it to help the doms that I send it to understand their subs better. It makes me feel like it's not just about a service they do for me by reading, but that they get value and insight into how people think, especially their subs. I know that one of those subs is glad for it too, although I doubt the other knows.

It seems that I need what I get from sharing, and it benefits those that read also, so in the end, it's a win/win situation. Would I get the benefit if there was no cost to me? That I can't answer right now. For now, it's enough to be what it is.

Friday June 3, 2011 8:28PM

I have a lot on my mind again. I know there are people who would likely get a chuckle out of that, because that seems to be the case so often with me. I asked Daddy today if there was anything in particular that he wanted me to post on my profiles. I think that I am finally pretty sure that we will really make it, but on the other hand, it's been so quick that it's just kinda crazy. With me, of course, that brings fear into the picture. A LOT of fear. I know it's silly, and on the other hand, my history says that it's not really so crazy to be afraid that people will decide that they don't really want me.

Daddy wasn't freaked at all when I told him that I was still afraid, and he sees us as staying together, as him staying my Daddy for a LONG time. He offered me something to say that wasn't a permanent kind of thing yet, but it would have people leave me alone. And even then, if I didn't want to post what he suggested, he was totally fine with that. I'm so thankful that he is relaxed about things like that.

I talked to my previous dom for a few minutes tonight, and of course, we talked a bit about my Daddy. I told him that I talked to Daddy today a bit while he was at work today. I was being patient and all because he had more to do than usual today. The previous dom mentioned that I shouldn't talk to Daddy while he was at work. I told him that I had asked, and that Daddy said it was okay. He told me not to take advantage too much, or something like that. I thought about it. For a few seconds. And then I decided that I need to trust my Daddy to be honest with me, to tell me what was okay and what wasn't. and that he'd tell me if there was a problem and we had to quit talking while he was at work.

Daddy gave me my first rules this week. I have to keep a food journal, where I send to him what I eat every day. I quit my low carb diet, btw. It wasn't working. I am back to working at not stress eating. Okay, the other things that Daddy wanted from me was that I try to wear a dress or skirt when I can, and that I give hubby what and when he wants sexually. I really can't believe that I posted this here. There is a part of me that canNOT believe that I am doing this, that I would do these things because someone asked me to. I think it's even crazier that I would post these things publicly, and voluntarily.

My jaw hurts again. I am beginning to think that is the first thing that I tense when I experience stress of any kind. I am pretty sure that it gets much worse when I am in pain, and I have been with my tooth the last few days. (The dentist thinks that I need a root canal, btw. I am trying to put it off so that I can change my insurance next year.) Anyhow, it's pretty amazing to me that I have such trouble letting tension out of a place like that, that I can't seem to let it go for anything.

I am feeling super stressed again right now. I really want to eat, and I know that it's not because I'm hungry. I'm sure that I want to stress eat, but I have no idea what the stress is. Also, I know that Daddy is not here to help me, not here to support me right now, and I think that scares me all the more. I guess that one of the things that I'm really scared of is letting him down, of failing him. I think that part of it is that I am still afraid of what will happen in this relationship, and that somehow that is me letting him down too. On a really deep level, very far under the surface, I think that I'm terrified that I am not going to be able to keep everything going. I think that I am afraid of failing, that I am not good enough, and that everything is going to fall apart. I think that I am afraid of the whole world judging me, of my family, my friends, myself, my church, *EVERYONE* seeing what a failure I am. I feel like a stick of butter, sitting in a bowl on a hot summer day. I feel like the world around me is watching, scrutinizing each thing I do, just waiting to tear me apart, to judge all my faults and failings.  That heat and pressure is like the summer sun, under which I have but a brief time before I melt.

So where the hell do I get the idea that anyone CARES about what I think or do or say? Why do I think that they are going to just see all the things that I screw up instead of what I do right? I know that it's because I see myself through my parents' critical eyes. I can't remember but less than a handful of times that my parents praised me without a BUT in there. I couldn't do anything well enough to suit them, not even load the dishwasher. I wasn't smart enough, I wasn't good enough in any way. I was a failure.

And I wasn't good enough to please my father.

Can my Daddy love me like I am? Am I worth loving as I am? I really want the answers to be yes, and I am afraid to hope that it could be true.

Thursday June 2, 2011 8:12 PM

I was just talking to a friend of mine. She is one fo the most submissive people that I have met. When she is with a dom and he goes into "dom mode" she is unable to say no. She is unable to tell him no. Somewhere along the line I have kinda become her unofficial protector. I help her talk to people when she has trouble doing so. I help them know that she has different boundaries than most people, that her signs are different.  She has been going out with a guy for a very brief time who, well, whether he is ready to respect her boundaries is not completely clear yet. I told her to just say the word, and I would be ready to call him and give him a piece of my mind.

From there, the conversation went to how she hates to be like that, that she feels frustrated that she cannot just take care of herself. She wants to be able to say those two little letter, to make them a word, to be able to say, "No, stop! This is not okay with me!!" I told her that I am HAPPY to be able to help, that I want to be able to protect her, even sort of, a little bit. I told her that I understand the level of frustration she feels, that she cannot stop things. It took a long time for me to be able to stop the things that I was not okay with as a child. I remember the frustration, the feeling that I had no control. I remember the anger, the powerlessness, and the absolute futility that goes with it. As I talked to her, I got choked up. It took me a bit to realize.... but for me, to be able to speak up in those situations feels to me a bit like I am taking care of that little girl. I guess it's a tribute to her, a way to tell her I'm sorry that
I didn't do better, and please forgive me, I truly did the best I knew then. I will do the best I can to make it up to her now.

As I began to explore BDSM and more specifically, my submissive side, I realized that I had an aspect of my personality that I refer to as my defender. She is the strong, protective side of me. I didn't realize when I first discovered her that she also likes to take care of others, especially when for whatever reason that person is unable to take care of themself. In some cases, I know that it's a person that I see as needing help, other times it's just a situation, but in any case, she wants to rescue. She wants to protect. She wants to nurture. She's really good at it too.

Thursday May 26, 2011 9:10 AM

I have been putting off dealing with the cavity that i know that I have. I'm not sure why. No one especially likes the dentist, and dealing with cavities is obviously worse, but isn't the pain from dealing with the cavity on a daily basis worse than having it filled and then it being over? I think that I feel some shame in having the cavity, for one thing, that it means that I didn't do a good enough job taking care of my teeth, and that is why I am having this issue, and that the people at the dentist's office look down on me because of it. Anyhow, I think that I've been clenching my jaw, and that is causing me headache issues. I scheduled an appointment to get it filled on Tuesday. I think that the pain also makes me less able to deal with other stresses in my life.

I know this is probably silly, but I think that it's bothered me that I didn't hear back from Jenny when I called this week. I am afraid that I have offended her or something, and it bothers me that it seems to happen so often. I think that I also feel like there is something wrong with me that people bail on me all the time. I feel like I am not good enough to suit the people around me, that I am defective or something.

And then there is my relationship with Daddy. I think that one thing that is bothering me is that I don't feel like we are having any intellectual conversation, like I am little and nothing else there. As much as I need to be little, I desperately need to be intelligent too. Perhaps that has to do with having not been valued for that growing up. I'm not really sure. Maybe it also has to do with not being in school and getting the affirmation that is built into the academic system, with grades and places to note accomplishment that come along with it. Whatever the reason, I think it's one of the things on my mind right now, one of the things bothering me. I guess that as much as I need the space to be little, I strongly need the place to feel accomplished and acknowledged. I need to feel respected, not just as a person, and I don;t mean to be a snob, but I guess for my accomplishments too. Nothing like hammering a point to death, is there? Well, you get the idea. I need to know that I am special, that I have things about me that are unique and worth special attention.

And then there is the part of me that feels guilty for needing that. I feel shame that it's not enough for me to know something, but that I need a pat on the back, and special attention for little things, that it should be enough that I did X, Y, or Z, and I should be satisfied in the accomplishment, not in needing additional acknowledgement. I feel like somehow there's something wrong with me, that I am deficient that I would need praise. Isn't it funny how I know that it's not the case, but still I need to hear it? And along with it comes a fear that I will be rejected for needing to hear the praise. Maybe my Daddy will be unhappy with me, maybe he won't want me anymore because I am such a pain in the ass, such a needy sub. I hope my Daddy is as patient as I thought.

Wednesday May 25, 2011 8:40 PM

I am struggling today. I've felt rather melancholy most of the day. The time difference made communicating with my dom today difficult, and there were a few hours that I wasn't sure that I still had a dom.

I feel so sad right now, so lost and alone, like I am reaching out, but there is now one to hold on to, like I am flailing. I'm left scared, panic driven, searching frantically, but clueless as to what I'm searching for.

I like my daddy. He is gentle and patient. Heaven knows that I am a difficult case, and he's willing to help me, and yet somehow, I'm still struggling. I feel like we are trying to push this too fast because of my insecurities, because of my need for that safety. I know that I'm being circular here, but on the one hand, I'm afraid to trust that the net will be there to catch me, and on the other, I'm terrified to be on my own with no net.

In other news, I have been struggling with headaches for a couple days again. Today it was not too bad, but yesterday it was. I'm anxious about my kids getting out of school too. The girls fight so much. I just feel like I'm on overload. And then again, there are my parents who keep asking me to send the kids down to see them for a week. I didn't send them last summer, and I have no intention of doing so this summer either. I am not willing to send them to spend time with my father when he is not willing to look at what happened with us, without excuses.

All in all, I feel like I am carrying a heavy weight. It feels like I am wearing a hundred pound vest, and it's weighing me down, so that I am tired, unable to move, tired, lethargic, overwhelmed, and basically unable to cope.I'm sure that the fighting that I did with hubby over the weekend didn't help any either. I just kinda want to curl up in a ball, cry for a while. and then just sleep. I guess what it boils down to right now is that I don't see any way out, any way for this all to end. I feel powerless, and like I am a victim.

It's always amazing to me how that one realization always makes such a huge difference to me. When I get to the point that I can see that I feel like a victim, suddenly there is light. I have no explanation as to where it comes from, but there it is, It's like just in being able to see that I feel like a victim the victimization stops.

I guess that for right now, I'm gonna rely on my friends to help me get through. I am thankful that I have such friends that I can lean on.

       Okay... let's clear things up. I frequently give my yahoo address to people on here after I exchange a few messages. If you need a picture immediately, please consider it an indication since I won't post a pic here. I will not show you a picture of me until I am comfortable with you.

       I just had someone ask me for a pic as soon as I talked to him on yahoo. I told him that I needed to get comfortable with him first, and he immediately blocked me. It pisses me off that I am careful with my identity, that I try to know that I am not putting myself or my family into a compromising position, and *I* am the bitch? *I* get blocked without a chance to respond? I was going to offer to talk on voice so that he could confirm that I am real, but I didn't have the chance. And we wonder why the doms on Collar Me get a bad reputation? Well, here you have it.

okay.... I am pissed right now. Someone in my PM just asked me if I trust him. When I didn't answer the way he wanted me to, he was pissed and logged off. Quite honestly, that's bullshit. I have stated clearly in my profile everywhere I go that I don't trust easily, and he did not care to elaborate on what he wanted me to trust with. And *I* am the bitch? And I wonder why I can't find a decent dom? Good night.

This is an old journal, but I have had folks ask me why I want to be in a D/s relationship, and what I get out of it. I thought this at least gives a peek into my head, and my heart. Please keep in mind that it was not just written, and there are things that may relate to my marriage. Thank you for reading.     ~grace

August 20, 2010

 
Submissive Symphony

It is a rare occasion for me to get assignments outside of class. Most of the time, I bristle or shudder at that idea of someone trying to tell me what to do, but that probably has a lot to do with the ones who are likely to try having no respect for boundaries. Last night, CL asked me what I wanted out of this power exchange relationship that I want to create with my husband. There was too much going on, it caught me by surprise, and all the emotions that came up with it came together to make it a difficult subject to talk about. I got some of it expressed, and although I thought that it was most of what needed said, I was asked to write about it, so I am.

It’s hard to get a place to start on why I think this would be a beneficial type of relationship for me. I guess that the place that I need to start is why it is so terribly hard for me to dig into this. Even though I was pretty sure that I was submissive when I started looking online, but I had a hard time seeing how it fit in with who I was, and how I encountered the world. As I read and learned from others, and then looked inside myself, I began to see pieces fit together. I understood more and more about how the pieces of my past came together to create the collage that is my current life. I understood why I seem so strong and willful, perhaps even aggressive. I understood why I didn’t trust people easily, and why I am so easily offended.

There are several benefits that I will get out of a D/s relationship with hubby. The first benefit that I see has to do with being responsibility and control. I tend to be a control freak, and want control of everything all the time. At the *very* least, I want to know what is coming and when. I know that this has to do with wanting to be able to control things as they come at me. I have to say that it gives me more chance to manage things as they come when I know what is coming. This seems to me to be related to planning things. It is the way that I cope when I feel like someone is going to get the best of me, or when I feel threatened. I have used this to get out of a bad situation with my dad, to handle bills, and to deal with other crises. It is clearly a coping skill for me.

I have to say that at thing moment I am feeling very agitated and stressed. My kids have been loud, and honestly irritating tonight. Everything annoys the piss out of me. The door to the bathroom is open and I can hear the washing machine running, and even that is irritating. The cable box squeals, and the refrigerator hums, and all of these things seem almost deafening to me. I have been trying to write this journal entry for hours. I made some progress with it, but then things like the needs of other people came up, and my own got pushed aside. Is the volume of the sounds around me relative to the sounds in my head? I feel like right now inside my head is a jumble of noises without rhyme or reason. It is not music, but each instrument playing notes without direction. Each one is making noise, but with no regard for what any other is doing. They are without the beauty and order that a musical score outlines. It is a room full of people all clamoring above the din of the neighbors. Each is looking to provide only for its own.

Is that the difference in my life between dominance and submission? Is dominance in me when one player finally threatens the others into silence? It is not a peaceful, harmonious resolution, but the kind that comes with a penalty that will be enforced. It is blackmail of my soul. It is each member with insecurities and anxiety running fiercely trying to make sure that his needs are met. It is fear running full tilt, and out of control.

Submission, on the other hand, is the band, or orchestra since that sounds more gentle to me somehow, that acknowledges a director. There is a score, and each member has music in front of him. He knows how to play the notes, and the rhythm, or at least is in the learning stages. In my case, this is probably more like the fourth grade orchestra that is just learning. Even so, they have direction, and unity, and a sense of purpose. They have a director, whom they trust to have each “voice” per se heard in turn. As they practice and get better at their skill, the music gets more sophisticated. It becomes a sweet sound that others come to observe. Perhaps they are recorded, so that a repeat performance of their beauty is available on demand, and without notice. Others appreciate the dance between players, between sections, between families. Sometimes the dance may be slow, quiet, and gentle. Other times it is bold, loud, and demanding. Everywhere in between there seems to be a resting point as well. There is harmony, balance, and peace in the room.

This harmony, this balance, this is what I am seeking. It’s what I am chasing, what I yearn for. Right now, I feel like submission is some kind of a holy grail. I am hoping, wishing that such order and balance could be attainable for me. I feel like I have pursued so *very* many other avenues, and although I at least make progress and don’t feel totally out of sorts every moment, I still feel that the angry mob of instruments is likely to stampede, and I will be found later, trampled and broken, lying on the ground. I am the one who has tried to step up into the conductors chair, I have tried to bring order, but I don’t play an instrument, let alone know how to direct such a group.

My fear is that he won’t know how either. I pray that he is some kind of a savant, and that this will come quickly, easily, and completely to him, It doesn’t seem to be, though. What if he can’t learn, though? What if all the music classes in the world are not enough to teach him how this works?

So I guess that I need to go back to the original question: what do I want out of this power exchange. I want my anxieties and frustrations to settle. I want to know that I don’t have to be a super hero to be okay. I want someone to love me like I am. I want to hear that expressed. I want to have *no* control, and to feel completely safe in that space. I want to trust and love in a deeper way. I want to be known, body, mind, and spirit, and to not only be accepted, but to be cherished as I am, and to somehow still be challenged to grow.

Tuesday May 3, 2011

It's been a while since I journaled. As I look at the date, I realize that yesterday was one month since my grandpa died. I don't know what there is to say about that except that it seems to bring another round of grief, just in noting the date. I love you Grandpa, and I miss you, and I wish that I could have had the understanding that I have now several years ago. I would not have taken the time I had with you so lightly, but would have valued what it was that I had.

Now on to what initially prompted this journal.

Friendships with me cannot be built on a one way street. They might be acquaintances, or perhaps even a superficial friendship, but the ones that I really long for are the deep ones, the ones where two people interact and relate on a very deep, intimate level. I want the ones where people share not the pleasantries, such as the weather report, and greetings of the day, but the one ones that get to the heart of what matters. I want friendships where people talk about the things that have shaped them, made them who they are. I want to hear about my friends' hurts and fears, about their roots, about their loves, and their hates. I want to hear about their passions, and about the things that drive them to grow, and to wake up another day.

It's not that I don't have any of those types of friends. I do have. I find it hard to understand though, that when I tell potential doms that I have a need for a very intimate relationship, not sexually, but on this level of relating to one another, that I seem to keep finding people who want to hear about me, but are not willing to share of themselves. There are millions of people in the world who don't live on that level, who don't know anything of the ocean that is them past the first few feet from the beach, and even then a very narrow space thereof. I get it. I understand that some people have not found the reason to search further, and are content with that. Those people are obviously not going to be able to share more, as they don't know it, they have not looked.

What I am struggling with at the moment is not them, but the ones who DO explore their oceans, who DO know of the creatures that are in the water, those who have surfed the waves, and been diving in the depths. Maybe it's because I seem to be driven to know, to understand myself, and that I process so much in the talking, and that I learn so much from other people. Perhaps that's the reason that I have such a need, (here's that word again) such a drive for those relationships. I know though that I have run into several folks whom I am certain have reached those depths, but who are unwilling to share of them. Sadly, but not a surprise to those who know me very well at all, I come back to this recurring question. What is it about me that says that I'm not worth the risk or bother to relate to on that level? They seem plenty willing to hear of these things from my life, but, well, it feels so one-sided. It feels to me like a teeter totter where the two parties are of such unequal weight that there is no movement, or only that which the heavier person's legs will provide. That's fine for a little child who needs the stability to not be jostled, or whatever, but I don't feel that it's me. I feel with some of these people like I am in an observation room, behind one way glass, where I can be seen, but not interact with the people behind the window, because I can't even see them, let alone hear them to interact.

I get that there are such things as caution and prudence in the world, but boring is the playground when I am the only one who will play on any of the equipment?!? I feel like I have been surrounded with statues of children, but they are frozen, and unable to interact. Others, for whatever reason, want to play it safe and pretend that they too are those frozen statues, even though there is blood coursing through their bodies. All I can think is "How boring is THAT?"

Saturday April 23, 2011..... the second time

I am feeling sad today, depressed. It's a heavy kind of feeling, like there's something on my shoulders, pushing me down, making my steps feel like trudging through mud, through a murky swamp. I have said before that for me, depression can be boiled down to one simple word: overwhelmed. It's like I have so much information, so much data that I can't figure out what the question is, let alone know what the answer is. I am completely unable to answer any more than the most basic questions, too.

So what has me in this sad, heavy, overwhelmed place today? It sounds like a stupid thing to me. I feel like I am overwhelmed by my housework. I feel like I try to work on it, and it just multiplies, like it has taken on a life of it's own and is breeding now. And I feel alone. I feel like the world is on my shoulders, like if I don't find a way to do it all, it just won't get done.

And this is a stupid thing, but I am also sad that DD has not been online today. I woke up at 430 this morning and he was online for a while. He put his arm around me and after a bit told me to go back to sleep. I asked if he'd be online later, and he told me that he's be of and on all day. it's now 1130 his time, and he has not been back. Does that mean that I won't be able to count on him? Hopefully it was just that something came up for him today. I have been so hopeful that he was the right one. I think I'm terribly afraid something will come up, and I will once again resume my search. How long can I do this? How long until I find him? Please! Oh PLEASE let him be the right one!!

Saturday April 23, 2011

Right now I am fuming. I am so extremely frustrated. CL just popped online. I have not gotten over the fight that I had with him a few days ago. I am angry at hubby for washing the laundry, because as with many of the things that he does, it's a half-ass job again. He does the fast version and my clothes end up ruined.

And somehow I suspect that there is something else going on, something under the surface.

When I start looking at how I really feel, what seems really honest, I think that I feel frustrated and angry. I have this idea that the people who are around me, the people that are supposed to love and protect me are really not safe for me, that I really can't trust them to take care of me. Like my dad. And to a degree, my mom. They should have been there to protect me, and instead they were the ones that I needed protection from. Dad was the one who yelled constantly, who was so hostile and angry, who had me scared of some unknown threat, probably that not only would I get hurt, but that HE would be the one to inflict such pain. How could I trust him, how could I want to be close, to love him if that was forever in the back of my mind?

"Who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the insolence of office, and the proud man's contumely? Who would these fardels bear, but that the dead of something after death, that undiscovered country from whose borne no traveler returns, makes us rather bear these ills we have than flee to others we know not of. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and the native hue of resolution sicklies over with the pale cast of doubt."

Please forgive my typos, as some of those words are just not in my working vocabulary.

Interpretation: We live with the lives we have instead of killing ourselves because it's impossible to know what the nightmares will be after we die. They might be much worse.

Is that why I don't abandon the life I have? Is it because I have no way of guessing what might go wrong and be much worse than the life I have now? The truth is that I love the life I have now, mostly. I have plenty of moments that I don't, but the overall is that its what I want. I CHOOSE this.

There is still that anxiety that lies beneath the surface though. There is still a belief that I can't let go, that I cannot trust the people around me, the ones that are supposed to be here for me to keep me safe. I guess it is a recurring theme in my life, that I can't trust, and honestly, I have a hell of a lot of evidence to back up that conclusion.

Isn't it interesting that deep down, underneath all of that mistrust is a throbbing longing to trust? And yet, what is more on the surface is the Mississippi river of fear and doubt. I guess I want someone to channel that water away, so that there is more like a small river, or even a stream left, a small enough amount that I can swim it and learn to trust. Maybe that One can build a bridge for me, that I'd be able to make the choice to walk across it when I wanted or needed to. Maybe it gets sturdier as I learn to trust him, that what starts out as almost a ladder or a log across that expanse can be reinforced, can undergo further construction, to make it more safe, most sturdy, so that I can trust more quickly, with less, well, what's the word I'm looking for? I think you have the picture at any rate.

I have the picture of a little girl. In her daddy's arms, being held close to him, she's secure. She feels safe, protected, loved. When she first starts walking, her gait is unsteady, perhaps even a bit treacherous, especially if she is near a staircase.

Soon though, her steps get a bit more sure. She can go more than a step or two, and the steps that she does take contain less teetering, but instead they become steady and sure.

Maybe the truth is that it's a joint process. That little girl has to learn to walk (or trust), but there must also be a pathway worthy of her trust, or her steps.

She needs a daddy that she can be sure of, that is worthy of her trust. She also has to have the courage to take those steps, to develop that strength and balance. Having a Daddy that encourages helps too.

Wednesday April 20, 2011

I woke up this morning with what feels like a million things on my mind. As normal, this seems to be the place where I try to sort them out. I guess the question is whether or not I can make them make enough sense that someone not already inside my head can make sense of them.

I talked to my mom yesterday. We've been talking about her coming to see me for about a month now. She doesn't get much time with my kids because when dad comes to town, most of the time she doesn't come along, and I don't make it down there very often. I miss her, and I like to see her too. She's been taking care of grandpa for years now, giving him baths and such several times a week, so she was not really free to come to visit for more than a day or at max two. Now that he's gone, I think we'd both like for her to come visit for a while. She feels like she has to stay and do all this work around the house, and that she can't come for a mini vacation. I am frustrated about this. I don't know that I even have the words to tell why. Maybe I feel like somehow it means that we are not important to her. I'm not sure.

I decided yesterday that I wanted to start exercising regularly. I've had all kinds of aches and pains that keep me from doing it though, it seems. I decided that I will take enough meds that I can handle doing the exercise for now, until I lose enough weight that it takes stress off my body and I feel better. I think the exercise and having my muscles toned will help in a lot of ways. I think now the challenge is finding exercise that doesn't make things worse, that gives me enough of a challenge, and that I at least enjoy a little bit. I know though that I struggle enough with exercising that getting a lot of encouragement and support will be a critical element.

I talked last night with CL for a while. I told him that hubby and I have been fighting lately. The short version is that he told me that if his wife didn't think he could meet all her needs, that he'd leave. I felt like he was being critical that I am doing what I need to do to keep my sanity, and to do what I need to to be a good mom. The short version is that I didn't really get past feeling defensive, and feeling like he intruded in the first place. I felt like he has lost the right to give commentary on anything he feels like addressing in my life. It also makes me wonder if perhaps those who told me that I need to completely cut him out of my life might have been right.

On the other hand, I think that I panic a bit at the idea. Maybe it's because in the past, I got so much affirmation from him. Maybe I feel like without someone to provide acknowlegement that I won't have any value, that I am not important, or needed. Or loved.

I spent a few hours last night with Dawn, my new friend. One of the many things that we talked about was my house and my frustration at not being able to get and keep it clean. Ironically, when I came home, the laundry was not put away, and the dishes were not done. I know that James had a rough night last night, and hubby was dealing with the kids. I was frustrated though that it felt like all the work I did was, well, like it didn't mean anything, like it was almost like trying to keep the tide from coming in.

I also know that I don't spend all day cleaning like some women do. I think it's critical though for me to keep talking, to keep working things out so that I don't take my frustrations out on my kids, so that I have plenty of patience to do a good job as their mom. I guess that as much as I'd love to have a house that was spic and span all the time, it's more important to make sure that I keep taking the time to process and keep up with dealing with my junk.

I'm not sure that I finished with any of what I was expressing, but I think that I'm done enough for the moment. I guess it boils down to I am not a perfect housekeeper, or mother, but It's much more important that I am a good mom than a good housekeeper, and I will continue to put the efforts into that as I need to.

Wednesday April 13, 2011

I'm sad today. Yesterday I got all dressed up for hubby, wearing a red dress, with my new red three inch heels and everything...... and he barely noticed me. I knew that he was really tired, and that he might not be up for sex, but I barely got NOTICED yesterday. I guess I feel rejected. I feel like he must not be attracted to me, must not really love me.

And then there is the thing with CL. I was supposed to get to talk to him last night, but I fell asleep. I think that is kinda weighing on my mind too. I have talked to a number of friends, and none of them think that I will be able to maintain a friendship with him. I can't help but think that I HAVE been able to keep friendships before, and that I am NOT everyone else, and that I just have to try. I guess I have so much to lose, I just have to try.

And I can't just keep getting knocked down by him either.

I have analyzed the hell out of this, and I guess I think that all there is left is to talk to him.

I have a dom now. I am way too nervous about it. I guess I have a lot of grief getting in the way today. Between the fear and the grief, I guess it's not a surprise that I don't have room for much else. I guess I'm just waiting, sure that I'm going to get rejected again. Is there a part of me that feels that Grandpa dying was another rejection of me? As I sit here and think about it, I don't think that's the case with him. I just feel him loving me. I didn't know that it was something that could be literally felt, but every time I think of it, that's what I get, like even though he didn't physically reach out to put his arm around me, he put his love around me anyhow.

There has to be some irony in the fact that I have been so sensitive to people's' emotions, but that I didn't know that love could be felt like that. I have always been able to tell when someone was upset, when there was something on their mind, even on the phone. I will never forget the day that Melinda came in to work the Monday after she had been baptized. I just LOOKED at her, without her saying a single word, and asked what had happened to her. I just KNEW that something was different. She couldn't figure out how I knew, but I did. I was like that with other friends too. I could tell when I walked into the house, without a single word being said, what the mood of the room was. Without seeing a single face, I just knew.

And I didn't know that love could be felt like that?

What the hell is WRONG with me?

The conclusion that I keep coming to is that I have experienced a definitive lack of love in my life. It's incredibly sad to me. How did I get to be almost forty, and be able to distinguish all those other things, and yet not be able to feel love like that? Every other emotion could penetrate my shield. Who the hell am I trying to fool? I don't hardly HAVE any shield. When I was trying to explain how I felt to someone a while back, I used the example of people who had a craniectomy, where part of the skull is removed to make room for swelling in the event of a brain injury. Without the procedure, there is not enough room for the brain to swell, and it would be crushed within the skull by the pressure of the swelling. The skull, obviously, is no longer there to serve it's function of shielding and protecting, however. That person has to be extremely careful, as what would be a minor injury for the average person would be catastrophic for the person who didn't have the protection the bony covering offers.

I think that I am kinda similar with my emotions. They are just there, naked and exposed. They are very vulnerable, easily perceived by others,  and very sensitive to "reception" of others' emotions as well.

And some people seem to take a baseball bat to them.

Wow! When I think of how I am with most people, it makes more sense as to why I am so sensitive to CL, too. I am hypersensitive according to most peoples' standards in the first place, and I am more sensitive to him than most. It makes sense though, as he was one whose approval I desperately craved.

That little girl just wants to be loved. it's funny, every time I close my eyes and think of my grandpa, that's what I feel.... loved. Maybe I'm not too late after all.

I love you Grandpa. Thank you.

Monday April 11, 2011

We buried my grandpa two days ago, and the sadness has been lingering. It's funny to me, I think it makes me miss CL more too. I've been feeling that way for a few days. I think my heart has gotten confused, twisted up. When I needed a safe place, CL used to be that for me. There is so much that he gave me, so much benefit that I got from him. He was my place that I could talk about *anything*, even him, and he was okay with listening. He was my safe place, the place where I felt that I could be myself, without worrying that anyone would be hurt, or offended. He was the place my little girl felt safe to emerge, that she would be sheltered, protected. She didn't need the bigger side of her personality to emerge when she was with him, because that was his job. And he was better at the nurturing side than she was too... he knew how to take care of her, to make her feel special and loved.

My heart gets so confused. I think that one of the things that I struggle with, that I feel torn about is that things didn't end well with him. How can I help but feel that my protector didn't do her job? That she dropped the ball and wasn't diligent enough? That she really WAS right, that no one can be trusted? People are mean, and awful, and just all in all wretched, and they are not worthy to be trusted.

And I think I'm gonna find a dom when THAT is what I believe?

But I think that it's not what I WANT to believe. I WANT to believe that there is someone out there who will do what CL failed to do, who will continue to keep me safe, who will respect my intellect, who will love me, who wants to be my protector, to keep her from needing a job, to let her retire and join that little girl, playing, dancing, loving, and just being a little girl.

Is there such a man out there? One that will love ME and let me be myself? One that I don't have to put on a mask to deal with? One who is okay with my immaturity, or perhaps even enjoys it?

One who will keep me safe. That's what I really want, and it encompasses all the other qualifications for me as well.

And that brings me back to my grandpa.

During the funeral service, the pastor mentioned his sense of time, that at a few minutes past the hour, it was up, because we were already going on the next hour. Even then, though, he always said it in a teasing fashion, with a smile in his voice, the laughter barely restrained from bubbling out, and sometimes it did anyhow.

I remember him teasing me about the Amish boys who were gonna take me for a buggy ride, and how I'd marry one of those boys. I remember being embarrassed at his teasing. But that was just my grandpa, and he loved me. And I loved him. And I miss him.

The very childish part of me right now is hurt and angry. She wants him back. I can just see her, stomping her foot, tears streaming down her face. I just want him back. It feels so unfair, so sad, so hopeless.I feel like I am just now beginning to appreciate what he gave me, what he offered over and over, and I was too immature to grasp the priceless gift he offered again and again. He offered me love, security.

He may have been handicapped, but we really never thought of him like that. Even without that left arm, he was always strong to me. I don't remember there being much of anything that he couldn't do, and he sure as hell was never weak in my eyes. He was strong. He was the shelter that I needed, but I was still too wrapped up in being independent to know it, to take advantage of it.

Maybe that is really what I am mourning.

That in all my efforts to be independent, and grown up as that little six year old, who needed the safety from her parents, I missed the safety OF my grandfather. I didn't know that he offered it until I no longer had the opportunity to take advantage of it. Until I was too late. Until I had run out of time. Until HE had run out of time. No wonder I have felt that it's so unfair, that I have felt such a sense of abandonment. I wasted a precious gift, and now that it's gone, I realize what I missed.

I'm sorry Grandpa. I miss you.