Begging

I have, over the course of all these many years, formed some pretty specific opinions about what is, and is not, appropriate behavior for the "one down" partner in a power exchange relationship.  I know that there are as many ways to do this thing as there are combinations of people practicing it.  So, I want to be clear that my views on this are mine, and not intended to be prescriptive for all the rest of you.

Somewhere along the line, I came to believe that asking for His attention was outside of the boundaries of what was appropriate for me inside of our dynamic.  Asking, in any of its forms, seemed to me (and please note that it was never anything He expected of me) to impose my expectations and wants on Him.  While I have always been clear that He could surely just say, "No," to any of my requests, I still felt uneasy about putting Him in the position of having to do that. More and more, as time went along, I got less and less comfortable with anything that created that sense of demand between the two of us.  I was determined not to "top from the bottom;" not to become a "do-me sub."  Eventually, that eliminated (or mostly eliminated) asking, hinting, bratting, teasing, plotting, scheming, manipulating, begging, and any other affirmative "I want this" move from my side of the equation.  I could get pretty frustrated, but I figured He would do what He chose to do -- and it all seemed "right" to me somehow.

But we are in a new place, beginning from here and now.  I'm not sure what the definition of our dynamic really is.  He is definitely feeling more switchy; happy on some occasions to be on the receiving end of spankings.  I don't think we are exactly "equals," but it does seem that it makes sense for me to let go of some of that rigid, dogmatic, "twue slabe" stuff that I took on myself over the years.  He is no mind reader, and it isn't fair to expect that of Him.  He is, on the other hand, a GUY with a distinctly dominant bent.  As long as things are working for Him, He doesn't always perceive that there is any other set of needs or wants floating out there unanswered.  So, I am slowly shifting in my thinking about that whole "asking" thing.

Our usual pattern is to spank in the morning on weekends.  School days are just too wild, and we get up too early as it is.  While we did, once upon a time, set the alarm half an hour early to allow for time to play and make love, we've lost that urge as we have aged.  That extra half hour of sleep is way too tempting for us both.  So.  Weekend mornings have become our accustomed play time.  We wake up.  We cuddle and snuggle and chat a bit.  We spank.  We make love...  And then we get up and get on with the day.  AND, if that does not happen, we never, ever get back to it later in the day.  We might SAY we'll spank later, but we never do.  Once the day gets going, it is over with.

Yesterday, we woke up and I ended up spanking Him.  He'd been in a "spank me" campaign for several days, and so it went.  We have a new riding crop, and that played a starring role in our little scene.  I'm not a bad top.  He was left with a very cute, very stingy, very rosy butt.  Made Him very happy :-)

Today, then, I sort of figured it would be my turn.  But, we woke up late and made love.  He was hungry.  No time to play.  I was disappointed, but around here we have a host of health issues that require us to eat when people are hungry, and that includes the reality that I can drop right into a serious migraine if I don't eat at reasonable intervals.  So.  Breakfast.  Scones, as previously reported.  Nice.  Yummy.  All of that.  But not the spanking I was hoping for...

Then it was time for football.  And laundry.  And the usual Sunday afternoon routines.  At about 4 PM, as the football game drew near to its end, He looked at me and asked if I was interested in going for a walk.  I was feeling pretty sad about not getting the spanking I'd looked forward to.  My Christmas break ends on Wednesday, and while we've spent a lot of time doing things together, there hasn't been much in the way of play.  So, I took a deep breath, put on my pouty face, and told the truth:  "Sure.  Since we aren't going to spank, we might as well go walk."

Unmistakable.  Clear declaration.  Without writing a whole treatise about feeling sad and abandoned and neglected, I managed to convey the sense of need I'd been feeling all day.  He heard it and it wasn't long before I was "sunny side up" over His knee.  I got a more serious spanking than I've had in a very long time; complete with plenty of squealing and begging and groaning and tears.  He left me with a very stingy, very tingly backside.  He was thrilled and so was I.  I "sort of" asked for what I wanted, and He happily delivered.  I don't think either of us felt our dynamic was jeopardized in the event.  Duh!  So there's a bit of a change that happened and it all turned out just fine.  :-)

swan

Scones

We tend to sleep late on Sunday mornings, worshiping at St. Mattress...  Once we get ourselves up and going, we tend to make a late breakfast, watch our recorded Sunday morning talking heads shows, and get settled in for football (at least this time of the year).  I've got a repertoire of healthy and yummy breakfast goodies, and it is usually just a matter of what sounds good to Himself.  Today, that turned out to be apple/raisin/pecan scones served up with cheesy scrambled eggs.  My recipe for scones is pretty simple and relatively fool proof:

Scones
2 c. whole wheat flour
1 Tbs. baking powder
1/3 c. white or brown sugar (I use Splenda)
dash of salt
cinnamon to taste
fruit and / or nuts (dried or fresh as you choose)
1-1/4 cups of milk or cream (I use Silk Almond milk -- unsweetened vanilla, and I substitute about 1/4 cup of sugar free maple flavored syrup)

Preheat oven to 475 degrees.  Mix dry ingredients.  Add fruit and nuts.  Mix to coat. Mix in liquid until it forms a thick batter.  Spoon the batter onto a greased baking sheet.  Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon if desired.  Bake 12-15 minutes.  Serve warm.

  And, yes... I know there is nothing kinky about pretty breakfast scones, but that's all I've got.  Enjoy!  Tom did :-)

swan

How to Be...

As my Dear Tom indicated in His last post, life has brought us around again, and things feel good for the first time in a very long time.  We are wrapped up around one another, finding joy in just being here together now.  It feels like we have been snatched out of the maelstrom of misery that engulfed us, and settled onto some quiet and peaceful shore.  For us, it is enough to breathe and laugh and touch and sleep without those simple things feeling like trauma heaped on trauma.

It is a new beginning.  At least, that is what we have called it.  There is some sense that we have been given a second chance, and that we can now move on into the next part of our lives together with the potential of doing it “right” this time.  It feels good to know that is the possibility, however it feels daunting (and a bit presumptuous) since it is the NOW that seems good.  I think we are feeling tentative about trying to project very far forward from here, and I know that I am feeling unqualified to figure out how to do it “right.”

So, I am torn.  Part of me wants to just relax into this.  I feel like I could be happy just packing some sort of emotional picnic, and settling into the quiet here alongside Himself.  On the other hand, I am so very aware that we sailed merrily into this last calamity with no real plan; simply going along believing we had it all well in hand...  It begs the question:  would it be better to move more planfully?  How does one “stay in the now” while planning for the “not now?” I'd sort of like to fall back onto the traditional "submissive" role, and put the whole responsibility for figuring this out in His lap -- but that hardly seems fair. We got ourselves into the mess together, and we have survived to this point together, and with any luck at all, we will figure out how to make what life we have ahead of us be good for all of us ... together.

There is a list floating around the social networks, taken from Keri Smith's book, How to Be an Explorer of the World: Portable Life Museum. I think it is meant to guide young scientists and artists (or perhaps not only the young ones) in approaching the world as a studio or laboratory, but it seems to me that the world of intimate relationship might also be happily approached through these ideas.  It feels more open-hearted than that urge to grab control but more conscious and aware than my floaty picnic image.  A middle way maybe?  Loosely, here it is:

• Alway be looking.
• Consider everything alive and animate.
• Everything is interesting.
• Alter course often.
• Observe for long durations.
• Notice the stories around you.
• Notice patterns and connections.
• Document your findings.
• Incorporate indeterminancy.
• Observe movement.
• Create a personal dialogue with your environment.
• Trace things back to their origins.
• Use all of the senses in your investigations.

So, maybe I can relax and actively engage simultaneously.  Maybe I can live and learn in the same moment.  Maybe I can be in the now with awareness that each now drives me and us into the next.  Maybe, finally, I can stop my endless and lifelong rounds of “what if” questioning, and simply see what is around me.  Maybe that will be enough of a plan.

swan

Where To Begin................Again:)

Life feels good.  Yes that is right!  It is me saying life feels good for the first time since 2009 and the loss of my career, and my crashing and burning due to drinking, and not understanding how impossible drinking was going to be for me in the aftermath of my gastric bypass surgery, and the subsequent horrific legal consequences, devastating impact on our relationships, financial hardships, two more major surgeries, and all the other blah blah blah that has been recounted here ad nauseam for the last three plus years.

In early December I finally did the psychiatric version of the proverbial descent to the "bottom" and spent three days in the hospital......not just any old hospital and not for surgery....I was in a psychiatric hospital and that experience plus the cumulative impact of insights, changes, and learning from my approximately a year and  a half of psychotherapy have finally born fruit.

The real game changer was the first ever in my life psychiatric consult.  Serendipity or providence had it that I,  by the luck of the draw, wound up in the care of a woman, a psychiatrist, who had experience treating patients who had undergone gastric bypass surgery.  She is informed by a  small but growing body of science that indicates that some people who have undergone Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery are experiencing a mysterious deficiency of a chemical which is a subject of fairly esoteric study in neurology:  L-methyl folate.  For some reason some gastric bypass patients are terrifically deficient in this substance.  The thing is, you see, without sufficient L-methyl folate the neurochemicals which control mood are incapable of functioning.  Besides a number of more subtle medical changes this can create, it can result most commonly in deep and profound depression.......depression that is intractable.....depression that cannot be effected by typical treatments, even medications, because one is physiologically incapable of the neurochemical transactions which control mood.  She started me on a prescription medication that provides the missing substance, and the change I have experienced has been revolutionary and almost immediate.

I now experience my past, whether good times or traumas, in a reality that I describe as being "documentary-like."  Whether it is issues from my childhood, or my failed marriage and the resulting virtual loss of my kids, or my surgeries, or my career's ending, or the police and jail, or whatever, I am aware of what happened...but it is not NOW.  NOW IS NOW!!!!!  My present is what is now.  I know this must sound silly, and like I am stating obvious realities, but believe it or not this is an entirely new reality for me.

Her hypothesis seems to be that I likely have struggled with PTSD and depression since childhood, and have never really had support in dealing with it.  It lead to my self-medicating with drugs in my youth and eventually with extensive use of alcohol as that became more legally convenient.  Then the gastric bypass surgery made my ability to process alcohol virtually impossible and simultaneously lead to the loss of this chemical crucial to mood control, leaving me in a hopeless but fortunately quite readily reversible situation.

I am amazed at the miraculous nature of my transformation, but my life has felt changed profoundly.

The psychiatrist I saw also started me on a low dose (10mg. prozak b.i.d.) of SSRI but that is only beginning to kick in.  The change I have experienced was almost immediate with the replacement of the L-methyl folate.  She suggested the SSRI kind of almost "in case," suggesting that likely my issue was not serotonin deficiency (due to my aerobic exercise) but rather my body's inability to use the serotonin and other mood control neurochemicals due to this crucial deficiency.  This is a new adventure.  I've never had psychiatric medication before and I will give it a few months trial to see if it is of any benefit, although it appears at this point, it is the replacement of this missing chemical that is the critical puzzle piece that has put me back together.

The psychiatrist has also been able to give me insight into the effects of alcohol in the aftermath of gastric bypass.  She told me of one patient who had literally passed out in the midst of an important professional business meeting after one glass of wine, leading to the loss of her career.  To say the least I had been consuming way more than one glass of wine per day (today is now 709 days sober......my two year sobriety date is only just over three weeks away!!!!!:)

I am just beginning to feel my way...we are beginning to feel our ways......to finding out how we use this wonderful holiday gift to rebuild our relationships and strengthen our family, but finally our downward spiral is reversed and we are climbing again.  None of us knows where we will soar........I do know I awaken glad to be alive and glad to be me for the first time in over three years.

All the best,

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.  Live the life you've imagined.

.

He tells me He is ready to start again; to start over.

It is what I have been waiting forever to hear.

I am holding my breath; unsure what to do; not certain what to think...

What exactly does "starting over" require of us?  Shall we just hold hands and leap off into the adventure again -- just as we did in the first instance?  Or is it time to proceed with some sort of deliberate and cautious plan?

I have not a clue.  I hope that, since He seems ready to take up the leadership again, He knows how to do this thing that lies ahead of us...

swan

Darkness

My mother would throw me into the cellar under the house.  She clearly thought I did not deserve to live in the light...

My husband believed that I was sick, perverted and wrong...

Now...

I wonder if they were right.

Birthing Something New

"Lynn Twist, activist and author, speaks about the process of metamorphosis and how the earth bound caterpillar becomes the liberated butterfly:

During the later stages of its development the caterpillar becomes ravenous, and unable to satisfy its hunger, devours everything in sight, ultimately consuming hundreds of times its own weight. Eventually, too bloated to move, it attaches itself to a branch and forms a cocoon. Soon, from within the caterpillar’s body, new cells, called imaginal cells, begin to emerge. Because they’re completely unlike any of the caterpillar’s existing cells, they’re perceived as invaders and are promptly attacked by the caterpillar’s immune system. Outnumbered and under assault, these tiny indomitable imaginal cells keep right on coming. They begin to multiply, to recognize one another, and then to band together and to organize. Eventually the caterpillar’s immune system is overwhelmed and the caterpillar dies. And yet, what looks at this point very much like disintegration is in fact, an act of transformation. The dead body of the caterpillar provides a “nutritive soup” for the new life that’s in the process of emerging. Ultimately the caterpillar’s tomb becomes the butterfly’s womb." 

~~Spirituality, Therapy, and the Good Life~~

I think that little piece might come close to what we've been experiencing in the last few weeks (or maybe months).  Something new is coming into being here within our lives and our family.  It is exciting and scary at the same time.  I can't really say much more about it at this point.  Maybe, once we've lived through this transformation, there'll be something we can share about where we are and where we've been.  For now, we are becoming...

swan

Waiting

I found this image a few days ago, and had such a visceral reaction...  I've held on to it, while my mind teased out what it was that was stirred up in me by this picture.

Look at her.  She is waiting.  Every fiber of her being is yearning toward the object of her desire.  The wind, the water, the sand...  all of it is flowing along, and she, clearly, expects what she is waiting for to come into view at any moment.

I think that the submission that I have lived and practiced looks like this.  If there were a single word to characterize what I have done, what I do, most of the time, that word might well be "waiting."  Waiting to know what was.  Waiting to find and be found.  Waiting to be here.  Waiting for Him to come home.  Waiting for Him to wake up.  Waiting for bedtime.  Waiting to see what He might want.  Waiting for illnesses to end.  Waiting for surgical procedures to happen.  Waiting for the healing that has to happen after surgeries.  Waiting for the weekend.  Waiting for the next paddle stroke.  Waiting to hear that He is pleased... or not.  In fact, as I think of it, much of my "vanilla" life is taken up in waiting, too -- on a whole variety of fronts.

Entering, as we are, into the holiday season of gift giving, I am reminded of those long-past childhood years when I waited, impatiently, for Christmas morning, and the time when I might see what treasures had been delivered by Santa Claus.  That childhood waiting would begin, each year, with the arrival of the Sears and Roebuck's catalog.  My brothers and I would pore over the pages, filled with every imaginable toy, and compile long, detailed lists of all the things we wanted.  We'd write out our lists; we'd whisper our longings into the ear of the local department store Santa; we'd silently amend that list to our prayers each night... and then we would wait.  Long, winter days spent waiting for the fulfillment of all that childlike waiting...

As I read around the blogging circle here, I can find others who are engaged in various kinds of waiting.  Over at Swan's Myst, there is the frustration that derives from waiting for a demanding do-me sub to figure out what his role is and ought to be.  Morningstar eagerly awaits the day when retirement finally arrives and allows her to finally embark on her new life with W.  Oatmeal Girl's Master is dealing with health issues, and so she waits.   Kaya, too, healing from her own surgery, and awash in all the complications that life brings, waits...  Different stories, but in every case, there is that common sense of waiting for some expected outcome.

And that sense of expectation is precisely what has me thinking.  Waiting seems to me to be about expecting something.  Wishing for something...  It might not go all the way to the level of a "demand," but then again, it might.  When I wait, there is something for which I am waiting, and I expect it to come to pass.  Without the expectation of wish fulfillment, the waiting evaporates.  By definition, waiting is about remaining inactive in one place while expecting something.

So, I wonder, if waiting, in itself, is a matter of seeking to control; trying to shape and define the future to match up to our wants and our desires.  I think it very well might be, and that begs the question:  If I have sought to relinquish control, to enter into a relationship within which the control does not rest with me, does waiting (for whatever) remain a consistent choice for me?  Is there anyway to wait and not create some sort of expectation or demand in the process?  And, if the answer to those questions, is (as I suspect), "No," then what?  Can a person just stop waiting?  Can I?  What would that mean?

If I weren't waiting all the time, would I stop projecting forward?  Not waiting might mean just being.  Now.  Right here.  Without any sort of expectation or demand.  I'm not sure if that is even possible.  I'd have to pay close attention to be able to catch myself leaning forward into that expectant, yearning posture.  Could I?  Would I?  What if I did?

swan