I just looked at my last entry and realised that it has been 12 days, nearly two whole weeks since I wrote in here. It’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about things or wanting to write, it’s just that I have been so god-damn lethargic. I’ve been thinking about a great many things, shifting wildly through hate and love and like and then back to hate again. I can never really seem to make up my mind, eventhough I am resigned about the decisions that I need to make. It just all takes so much effort.
I think I have come to the conclusion that this will never work.We are two so very different people and I feel that the gap is widening all the time. There is still so much that I want to do, places that I want to go and experiences that I want to have and I know that with heI cannot do these things. Where he is happy to chugg along, I can’t resist the urge and need to fly. I could do so much given the right environment. I really and truly feel wasted.I sometimes feel like I’m 29 going on 60.
At least this time I can say that I have explored all avenues and given as many chances as I could. I think for the first time in my life I have stopped and tried to face the problem. It doesn’t really matter that it couldn’t be resolved, because I think I’ve grown as a person.
He said to me the other day that a lot of people would call what I do ‘being a slave’.This was in response to a comment of mine along the lines of there ‘wasn’t enough kink/play/slavishness in my life’. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but we are not talking about other people here. What matters most is what I am feeling! It may be my job to put myself in that headspace, but I need the environment to get myself there.
So I guess it’s time to move on. Find a job, a new place to live. Then start my search for the One again. I might take it a bit slower this time-really get to know them before committing myself to anything.
Everything is a learning experience. For better or for worse, we learn and grow just that little bit wiser.
I’ve always found that I do better work under threat of something. Without fear of retribution or punishment or consequences of some sort, I do find it ever-so-hard to get motivated. Some of my best teachers have been ones that are friendly and can share a joke, yet will be scary as hell when the situation warrants it.
In the same way, M/s relationships need an edge of fear. If you know that your dom will never do anything scary, alludes to things but never comes through with them, you’ll lose respect. Does that mean that a certain amount of fear and repression makes for a happy slave?
If I was a perfect slave I’d do whatever was required of me, I’d never mourn the loss of anything and I’d never need consequences because I’d be happy just being slave. There would be no other option, no thoughts of things being different. I wouldn’t be constantly comparing and struggling to drown out the niggling little voices in my head that threaten to lead me astray. I’d love to live like that. Pure simplicity. But alas I am not. I struggle through everyday, squishing down the endless waves of “Why do I have to do this?” “Does it really mean anything?” “Does it really matter?” “What the fuck am I doing?” “Why isn’t he doing this?” “Why aren’t I being made to do that?”
I think I’ve mentioned before that a certain amount of discomfort is hot. Having bruises that give you twinges of pain when you move just so, bondage that never allows you to get perfectly comfortable, collars that dig in etc…just something that always nudges you out of your comfort zone. And I think fear works the same way. Never quite knowing that you are ‘safe’, never quite knowing what will happen or be asked of you. It’s cunt-wetting material (^v^)
Making my way through the round of blog reading I do every morning, I came across a point that really struck home with me. It was a discussion about chores and tasks and how without some sort of feedback or direction from the domly one they lose their focus as training procedures and become nothing more than chores and tasks.
It was a very valid point and one that I think I had been trying to explain and not doing very successfully.
I’ve mentioned before how bdsm relationships are intense. By their very nature they involve a great deal more work, more emotional response and carry with them the possibility for a great deal more hurt. The whole relationship is a barrage on the senses, from the mix of pain and pleasure in play, to humiliation, objectification touched off with a hint of ‘love’. In my mind, subs are sensation junkies-craving any sort of feeling that is outside the norm of their daily lives. I’m not sure why…are our receptors set at a higher level? Do we need that level of sensation to feel something, anything?
I’ve talked before about my need to *feel* my slavery as well. I’m starting to think that that need is directly related to my ‘receptors’ needing greater stimulation (lol..sounds kind of yummy (^V^)…)It’s just not enough for me to ‘be’ a slave…I need to feel it constantly and therefore know it. By the same token, the receptors easily adapt to the present sensation and therefore the need for something more to get the same feeling is there. It’s a hard habit to live with.
My collar was a very good constant reminder of my slavery. When the “O” ring jangled, I’d be reminded that I was owned, property, not my own person. I do miss my collar. There are moments when I intensely feel its loss. What is interesting though, is the fact that I miss the feeling of being owned. It’s not necessarily being owned by Master-it’s just a craving for the feeling of being owned by somebody, anybody. I sometimes don’t like my life with someone holding the end of my leash, but I am terrified by the thought of never having anyone hold that same leash.
Blame it on the 5 cups of coffee I had today. Blame it on the choc-top I had at the movies tonight. Blame it on the period I just got. Or blame it on my frustration and *extreme* disappointment at how our first week of the trial went.
I really do feel like I am banging my head up against a brick wall at times. I’ve got a sore jaw from gritting my teeth and if I could squeeze out a few more tears I’m sure I’d feel better.
Empty promises. Talk and no action. That is all that I seem to get. And no, neither apologies nor excuses will help. Just give me what we’ve both agreed upon. Stop selling me short.
Rules are rules. Indifference is crushing. Leniency bleeds me dry.
Things really are no better than they were before. After all of our talks and of the understanding that I thought we had reached, after all of the indications that things would change-they won’t. I just want to scream at the top of my lungs, “DON’T YOU SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME?????DON’T YOU SEE HOW MUCH YOU ARE FUCKING ME AROUND?????”
Interestingly enough, if I was in your shoes, I would have made sure that I was on my best behaviour (for the first week at least!). In Novotel terms, “We never get a second chance to change the first impression.” The beginning colours everything-get off to a bad start and it will finish badly. Can I not impinge on you to make even just a little effort for the first week????
As I read through the blogs of other subs that I feed off, and in a sense, rely on to fill some sort of constant need for bdsm, I notice one idea that permeates every single one of them-insecurity.
Everytime there’s a little slack in the chain and we have the freedom to ‘wander off into traffic’ (lovely little phrase that) we come all unstuck. We become insecure about absolutely everything and all the good work that had been done up until that very moment comes unravelled in an instant. We often find ourselves further back along the path from the point where we had originally started.
I’m not sure exactly what it is, but there is something that sucks away at a sub’s power-her power that allows her to submit and to be happy no matter what.I think most of us believe that our submission will magically transform us into the perfect being that we aspire to be-that it will somehow take away all our imperfections and that we will be stronger, better and more beautiful than we ever were when we were ‘free’. Dreams, fantasies and disillusions fill our minds and cloud our vision. We see what we want, but we cannot see the impossibilities of ever reaching that pedastal in the clouds.
In my own case, my perverse need to be unhappy (my enjoyment of doing things the ‘difficult way’ and my satisfaction in my struggles) complicates matters even worse. And I’m trying to deal with the idea of bdsm being a compliment to my life and not its focus, because I’m beginning to realise that it’s not all that my life should consist of and that bdsm (as I have it now) is not enough to subsist on.
I’m an all or nothing girl…but is it enough?
That’s how I can describe my life at the moment. No tv, very little computer, nothing at all to distract me (if only there wasn’t work!)Although there are moments when I’m screaming inside because I want to grind with my character on WoW or when I really could so with some mindless trash on tv, I am peaceful. Not in a rush to eat breakfast, go to gym, watch sex, do some grinding and them rush off to work like I usually do. And the house is benefiting-with nothing to do but clean, it’s looking good.
Everything has been nice to come home to-bondage when I sleep, calling Master “Master”, my slavemat (no matter what I say about it..lol!) being generally ‘submissive’-everything except enemas. They really are the bane in my slavery. It’s not that they hurt -hurt I can live with-it’s just that feeling of being bloated and grosse that I can’t stand. Oh, that and the constant need to go to the toilet. When I chained myself up last night I was lying there praying that I was done with going to the toilet and that I would survive until morning. It’s a scary feeling that sometimes turns into panic, “What if I can’t hold on?”
I’m hoping that for confession time on Monday I’ll be clean. So far so good. I’m not sure if not calling Master “Master” for every single sentence will be an issue. I’ve tried to use it when it feels natural.
Little by little I’m trying to slip back into my role.