Cultivated

“Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you’ll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.” Janet Fitch, White Oleander

I don’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t feel lonliness, no matter how many people I surrounded myself with. I think I spent my entire life trying to let others know me, hoping, and getting disappointed. Taking risks and letting others in, always open to the possibility of making a match, whether in an intimate companionship or friendship. That process is painstaking; it takes such risk and I was burned, again and again. Continuously let down or left wondering what I did wrong. Many times coming to the realization that it would never be what I’d hoped it to be.

While I have found many meaningful relationships in my life and I have loved openly and deeply, I was often times left wondering if others would ever truly be able to understand me. After a while, especially when I gained weight, I just stopped trying so hard. I didn’t retreat, so to say, but I just let things be as they were. I made very few connections. There came a time when I understood it was me I needed to work on and I knew that would be a very long process.

It’s taken so many years to understand that I’d been operating with unrealistic expectations. I expected a level of understanding that was unfair to expect of others. I was looking outside myself hoping others could fill this void I felt. I was looking for exceptions. I was so fortunate to find M, my intelligent and sensitive soul mate, but how could I ever expect any others to know me if I didn’t know myself?

This journey has allowed me the time to heal, to blossom and feel a freedom I didn’t know I could feel. I’ve begun to feel a comfort within myself, an acceptance of my openness – emotionally, spiritually, and sensorily. I’m embracing this fierce and lonely need I have to continually grow and evolve, this process that fills my void. I have the love of a devoted man who supports me, a man who honors and respects me, who understands and accepts my whole person. I spend all my days doing the very same for him. And this openness has lead me to more exceptions, to beautiful, loving, accepting friends who understand and support me. Even when I’m alone, I’m not lonely.

What more could I ask for?

Words Escape Me

Sometimes, there’s an experience for which there are no proper words. In my mind’s eye, everything tangible escapes me. I’m overwhelmed to tears. Goosebumps. A joy that fills my entire being. Gratitude. Love.

Words, however, escape me. There’s only heat and flecks of light behind closed eyelids. Shadows dancing on walls, warm air colliding with flesh, vibrations absorbed through every cell of my being, creating a chorus with my own and flowing back into him. There’s the scent of our merging surrounding me, the passing of awareness and understanding in our gazes. I hear his ragged breath, his words taking hold, my heartbeat in sync with our rhythm, the gasps of my surrender. There’s no space or time, there’s no distance. There are no laws of gravity. We are just one magnificent flow of symbiotic energy. The energy that moves me.

With him, I’m alive.

By Your Lens

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The emotion on your face
And the look in your eyes
Turned me inside out
Took me by surprise
As you moved me to place
With words and gentle hands
The click of the shutter
Our bond more than bands
Much more than trust
Letting go in your eyes
Watching you feeling me
With admiration and pride
Intimately connecting
Your hunger and your drive
The surrender on my face
Captured by your lens, I’m alive

In His Eyes

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I’m not a girly girl, I never really have been. I’m just not a gal who has ever spent a ton of time on hair or nails, clothes and other feminine endeavors. I’m a fairly practical gal. Simple in my style.

Over the years, especially in the last few, I’ve appreciated more the simple ways in which I feel more feminine, things that don’t take a lot of time or effort. Things M notices and appreciates. Painting my toes, growing my nails, letting my hair go long, clothes that accentuate my curves, smelling pretty. All things which also help me feel a small boost in confidence.

Aside from a handful of pretty underthings and one nightie, I’ve never owned lingerie. M hasn’t ever expressed an interest really, so it seemed a waste of money. He’s always expressed an interest in and admired my simple nakedness, until recently.

A few weeks ago, M asked me to buy a corset. He told me I’m a sexy woman and he wants to see me feel as sexy as he sees me. He knows I’m self conscious and even more so because of the skin. So many thoughts began to swirl around in my brain…..nervousness and anxiety about the shopping experience and about looking at myself, wondering if I could ever be without disappointment, fear of disappointing him. But, the prevailing thought was that he likes to look at me. He thinks I’m sexy, inside and out.  He cares about how I see myself, he cares about how I feel about myself. So, I bought a corset.

Then, I bought stockings and heels and practiced walking in them. I did my nails and shaped my eyebrows. Today, I’ll groom my body the way he likes, as always. I’ll smell pretty and have simple makeup on. But, the most important thing I’ll be wearing, is humble confidence. I want him to see how much his view of me effects me. I know, without a doubt, he thinks I’m sexy. So, sexy I’ll be.

I Exhaled

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Engrained in me from the beginning, the concept of guilt has ruled my existence. Every perceived poor choice or action equates to feelings of guilt, some of which I do not easily let go.

When I began to let go and allow myself to heal, before we ever had a talk about D/s or beginning that journey together, the waves of realization began to crash in. This biggest of which was the realization that I’d continuously tried and failed to make any lasting changes. That, for more than 15 years, I’d glided through my marriage behaving in ways I knew I didn’t want to behave. Neglecting to do things I’d wanted to do. Feeling as if I’d been holding my breath, waiting to exhale. FOR 15 YEARS. That hit me HARD.

By October 2013, we’d opened our lines of communication further than ever before. On our 15th avnniversary, during our cabin getaway, I apologized to M. I spilled my guts, I took responsibility for all my shortcomings and wrongdoings during our time together. I vowed to continue on my journey of self realization – I knew I needed to, for me and for him. We needed to keep evolving. I needed to let go. When I apologized, M said to me, “I’m a patient man and you were worth the wait.” To date, those were the most amazing words he’d ever spoken to me.

Over the last year and a half, I’ve really tried to get to a point where I can live more in the present, enjoying the moment. Most days I can, but I do still struggle with issues of guilt. I always punish myself far worse than he or anyone else ever could. And still, I sometimes revisit that guilt and remorse from all those ‘wasted’ years, even though I know, without a doubt, that those years brought us right here, right now.

Recently, I spoke to M about seeking a solution in some way, the possibility of discussing a means between us, for me to feel rid of that guilt. To finally let it go and make peace with it.

Last night, as I sat at his feet by his chair, we were talking. He stood up, went to the kitchen, and returned to me, handing me a piece of paper. I opened it, read the three words he’d written, and looked him in the eyes. I was too moved to speak. He lovingly gripped my chin and said, “I wasn’t perfect either. I told you,you were worth the wait. We were. I’m happier than I ever imagined I could be. I. Forgive. You.”

And I exhaled.

For You

Fan the flame
That constantly burns
With words whispered
In my ear

Draw from me
My wanton desire
With lips and fists
In my hair

Travel the trail
Of fiery need
With teeth bared
Down my neck

Take from me
Whatever you wish
Your body entangled
With mine

Make your claim
Of all of me
With grips and words
I’m yours

Listen and feel
My body surrender
With peaks and trembles and breath
For you

Messiness

It’s so easy to let others need me. It’s what I do. I need to care for others, I need to feel needed and wanted and valued. My whole life, that’s all I’ve wanted in a relationship, even a friendship. To have people in my life who share the same energy with me, who enjoy the deepness of life and are comfortable there. I can meet them there, I’m comfortable there, I need to be there, too.

I want to be open to others, to be available. It’s a very different story to let them know I need them right back. To be so deeply vulnerable, deeper than I’ve ever been before. To bare my deepest darknesess, my greatest joys, my absolute honest soul, no hiding anything at all. Even sharing tears, in the moment. Being that exposed. That’s so difficult to do.

In my entire life, I think I’ve only cried in front of a handful of people. Most times, I regretted it, having felt too exposed, too vulnerable. I felt weaker for having done so, wondering what they must have thought of me, now that they knew I wasn’t so strong, that what lied beneath those tears was much darker and ‘lesser’.

I avoided personal situations where I knew I’d get emotionally overwhelmed. I could acknowledge and talk about those deep and exposing feelings, but only in the past tense, after I was able to process them. Expressing them in the present was something I never did. Ever. My immediate response to those emotional situations, when they could not be avoided, was deflection or blame or even anger. Anything to self preserve, anything to keep from showing anyone I was hurt or in pain. Anger was easy, it didn’t feel weak. It didn’t feel as if it might tarnish the ‘perfect’ perception I was always trying to uphold. The strong exterior I wanted others to see.

The core of my fear was this: I feared looking like a mess or feeling like a burden. I felt guilt for being needy and shame for being less than ‘perfect’, for being too much and possibly pushing them away in doing so. I didn’t think I could handle that kind of rejection, not again.

My relationship with M has taught me so much about myself. Being my true self with him has allowed a freedom with others I didn’t know I could have. M knows, without a doubt, just how much I need him, I tell him and I show him. I try to never miss an opportunity to show and tell my friends how much they mean to me. I need them, too. I’m learning to let go of those fears, they are teaching me, they are of the same, deep energy. Acceptance and openness and love, that’s what I feel. And tears, in the moment, if they come.

Because, you know what? I’m a mess. A happy, anxious, caring, bitchy, joyful, open, accepting, strong, angry, emotional, loving, grumpy, needy, moody mess. I am. And I love it and learn from it all.

I Need Him

My M is a face to face communicator. Texts, phone conversations, and emails are not his thing, nor is social media. He prefers person to person contact, the personal nature of a relationship, no matter who he’s speaking to. With his loved ones, he feels even more strongly about that, and with me, even more so. He’s not into superficial surface speak, especially not with me, not with anything conveying emotion. Which is why texts, especially, feel rather impersonal to him. Even more so from his work phone, where he has to be very mindful of what is said.

I feel similarly. But…….

I need my M. Every single day, I draw from his positive energy, from his continual guidance and leadership. I draw strength from his presence, in any form at all. I need him, even when he is not here. I depend on him, on his energy and his strength. When he leaves, even just for work, some of that leaves with him. I miss him and I think of him.

The pull to him is even stronger if he’s gone for longer periods of time. I feel that loss even more. My well runs dry much quicker and is unable to be refilled when there is little communication, when we cannot talk, when I can’t see his face, feel his touch, or draw from his presence.

Besides the fact that I draw so much from his positive energy and strength, I just need to know he thinks of me. That I’m worth the few seconds it takes to send a quick note. That I’m on his mind and he wants to tell me so. That he needs me, too.

I’ve communicated this to him before, but while he was gone last week, and our communication was limited, it really hit me. Hard. Last night we talked about it again and I was able to be more clear about my feelings and how it effects me.

Yes, I am an independent woman. I can do things on my own. I know he loves me and thinks of me. But, I need him, more than I ever imagined I could, more than I ever imagined I did. I need his presence, in any form. He is the positive energy that fuels me, the strength that tops mine off, the love that fills my heart. Now that my guard is down and I’ve given myself to him, I just need him, I need his energy, I need his reassurance. A lot.

I’d Be Toast

When I have those days when I feel so overwhelmed with emotion and my brain can’t possibly absorb another sensory attack, I’d love to be able to hide. I’d love to be able have the down time I need to process. Most times, I don’t, it’s just not possible. There aren’t 30 hours in a day. People don’t stop needing me and the world doesn’t go silent. The processing has to go on in my periphery. It has to be on the back burner. I have to find a way to get through the day, find some rest, and wake up for next, ready for more.

Writing it out always helps me. It’s the only way I know how to organize my thoughts. I jot things down, sometimes by hand, on sraps of paper or in a notebook. I use an app on my iPad. Then, I think and revisit and revise and edit. I splice and add and condense, in my head as well as in words on paper or screen. Sometimes, because there’s only so much time or an issue is very difficult to sort (or both!), that process can take days or even weeks, but I’m embracing that process. I know I’m always better for it in the long run.

Yet, along the way, life can feel pretty overwhelming. It doesn’t slow down and my brain and heart are already so full, still overwhelmed. The one thing I count on to help me refuel and make room in my well is alone time with M. When the girls go to bed and the house is quiet, and it’s just he and I. I shower, scrub away the grime of the day and do my prep work. Then, we can talk and snuggle and we can hang up all our hats and just be. He’s my refueling station, the one I know I can look forward to most days.

The days I really need him and life doesn’t allow for it; those days are the most difficult. The days there’s also no time to write. There are days I’m lucky to have a thought of my own, but I know, at some point, I’ll see him, I’ll have time to write. I’ll be okay.

Some days, he needs me more than I need him. I need to be strong enough for the both of us, I need to help him carry his load, help him smile or be there so he can lose himself in me. I’m grateful he counts on me and trusts me so fully to do that for him.

That’s what this is all about, that communication and connection. The give and take and meeting one another’s needs. The knowing when and how, the being attuned to one another in such a deep and intimate way. Without it, I’d be toast.