1/01/2010
Thank You to Our Readers
As we've struggled during the last week, we've been gifted with the most gentle, most respectful, most thoughtful, and kindest interactions from you, our readers and friends. Whatever you might have thought in your private minds, not one comment came across as judgemental. So many of you managed the very challenging and difficult balance that affirmed and acknowledged each one of us -- Master, T and me. There wasn't anyone who took sides or decided that one of us was right and the others were wrong. Over and over again, people affirmed that we are a family, and that our family is founded on love that endures and sustains. For people who often live hidden lives, that affirmation was a rare and precious gift. Beyond all of that, there were so many deeply thoughtful comments and personal emails -- people took significant time to share from their own experiences, and to describe for us possible interpretations that they felt would perhaps be helpful or hopeful to us in our struggle. Amazing and wonderful!
We've weathered the storm it seems. Our new year dawns feeling much more hopeful and more promising than we'd have believed possible just a few days ago. There will never be enough words to thank all of you who held us up and held us close and spoke words of kindness and wisdom to us when we most needed you. You are the very best, and we are awfully lucky to have you with us. Stay close, friends.
swan
12/31/2009
And So the Year is Ending
When I first opened my eyes this morning, it was to realize that today would likely be just like yesterday and the day before and the day before. There was that gentle sort of distant politeness between us. He hadn't slept much, and the sleep that I had was hectic and disturbed by painful and frightening images playing over and over from the last blowup between us.
I knew that He'd written a post last night. He hadn't said a word to me about the contents of that post, and I'd been too afraid to look. This morning, with my stomach in knots, I sat down to look. What He'd written was so raw, and so painful, and so far from my own experiences of the same events. I felt despair. How could we ever hope to bridge the enormous gap that seemed to loom between us? It felt as if there was nothing at all that we shared -- no common ground.
I made breakfast. I tried to eat something. I ironed some of His trousers that we just recovered from the back of the closet, and I organized His closet to accommodate easier dressing next week when I go back to work. I made a shopping list -- He wanted some eggnog, and I'd found a recipe that I wanted to try. Too, I wanted to get the makings for a simple cheese fondue for our dinner this evening. I needed to pick up some of His dry cleaning, and I needed to drop off the last bag of "too big" clothes at the local Goodwill donation center. I gave Him my itinerary, made sure He had what He might want or need while I was gone, and got His permission to go.
I was gone for about 45 minutes. When I got back, He seemed actually glad to see me, and He gave me a hug. A real hug! He held me close and caressed me as if He was somehow reminding Himself of a long forgotten memory. And then, He asked me if He should spank me before or after we had lunch...
Just like that. I didn't know what had happened, what had changed. I gasped. I worked not to dissolve into tears. I was so hungry... Shaky and desperate to eat. I think I somehow sobbed, "please, after lunch -- I really need to eat, Sir?" and so the die was cast.
I made the lunch. He had some soup and some summer sausage and cheese. I had a grilled cheese sandwich.
I made the eggnog, and gave Him a cup. He liked it well enough, although He didn't think it tasted very much like eggnog. I'm not really sure how eggnog is supposed to taste. Seems like I'll need a new recipe. It did make Him sleepy, so we cuddled (yes, cuddled) up on the couch so He could nap a bit. It felt so good to just snuggle together.
When I woke up, He'd been up and collected some paddles and spanking implements. He was clear that He wanted to seriously spank me, and clear that I'd finish up blistered. I was anxious, frightened, desperate to somehow please Him. In my mind there was nothing that He could do to me that would ever be worse than Sunday afternoon.
We started with me over His knee -- a position that we haven't tried since the last surgery. In the beginning, He had me leave my leggings on, and spanked over the top of my pants. Paddles and straps and some sort of short multi-sticked canish thingy, and a new two strand rubber strap were part of the "warm-up" phase of things. He told me that He loved me. Over and over and over. And I declared, "I love you, Sir." Over ad over and over. Then He had me pull down my leggings and panties, and went back after me on bare skin. I breathed, and gasped, but I was determined to behave as He expects. More than anything else, I wanted to please Him -- I wanted to not dissapoint Him.
Then, He told me, "You are not done yet. Get up." He took me into the bedroom and pushed me down over some pillows. He got a big, heavy lexan paddle, and for the first time, began to lecture me about ever considering ending our relationship; about ever believing that He didn't love me; about remembering that I was His.
Sobbing; contrite; I responded with quiet "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir" answers. The paddle blows fell hard and fast, rocking me into the edge of the bed. I held on. I sobbed, but I was quiet, and I stayed where He'd put me.
He pulled the singletail off the hooks, and began to whip me. I don't know how many strokes. I know that I have a number of welts this evening. I never moved. Not an inch.
Finally, He told me that there would be one more set with the paddle, and then it would be over with. And it was. Over with.
We made love. Really. It was good for us both. Afterwards, exhausted, spent, relieved -- I simply curled into Him and just tried to breathe. For the first time in days and days, I felt good and relaxed and at ease. We laughed. We held each other. We shared kisses.
For all of you, who have supported us through our recent "bump," thank you! We are, I think, going to be OK. Here, for your edification, are the last "butt pictures" of 2009. We will ring out this year with a deep sense of relief, and we will look forward to a much better, and hopefully easier 2010.
All the very best good wishes to all of you for the coming year.
swan
I knew that He'd written a post last night. He hadn't said a word to me about the contents of that post, and I'd been too afraid to look. This morning, with my stomach in knots, I sat down to look. What He'd written was so raw, and so painful, and so far from my own experiences of the same events. I felt despair. How could we ever hope to bridge the enormous gap that seemed to loom between us? It felt as if there was nothing at all that we shared -- no common ground.
I made breakfast. I tried to eat something. I ironed some of His trousers that we just recovered from the back of the closet, and I organized His closet to accommodate easier dressing next week when I go back to work. I made a shopping list -- He wanted some eggnog, and I'd found a recipe that I wanted to try. Too, I wanted to get the makings for a simple cheese fondue for our dinner this evening. I needed to pick up some of His dry cleaning, and I needed to drop off the last bag of "too big" clothes at the local Goodwill donation center. I gave Him my itinerary, made sure He had what He might want or need while I was gone, and got His permission to go.
I was gone for about 45 minutes. When I got back, He seemed actually glad to see me, and He gave me a hug. A real hug! He held me close and caressed me as if He was somehow reminding Himself of a long forgotten memory. And then, He asked me if He should spank me before or after we had lunch...
Just like that. I didn't know what had happened, what had changed. I gasped. I worked not to dissolve into tears. I was so hungry... Shaky and desperate to eat. I think I somehow sobbed, "please, after lunch -- I really need to eat, Sir?" and so the die was cast.
I made the lunch. He had some soup and some summer sausage and cheese. I had a grilled cheese sandwich.
I made the eggnog, and gave Him a cup. He liked it well enough, although He didn't think it tasted very much like eggnog. I'm not really sure how eggnog is supposed to taste. Seems like I'll need a new recipe. It did make Him sleepy, so we cuddled (yes, cuddled) up on the couch so He could nap a bit. It felt so good to just snuggle together.
When I woke up, He'd been up and collected some paddles and spanking implements. He was clear that He wanted to seriously spank me, and clear that I'd finish up blistered. I was anxious, frightened, desperate to somehow please Him. In my mind there was nothing that He could do to me that would ever be worse than Sunday afternoon.
We started with me over His knee -- a position that we haven't tried since the last surgery. In the beginning, He had me leave my leggings on, and spanked over the top of my pants. Paddles and straps and some sort of short multi-sticked canish thingy, and a new two strand rubber strap were part of the "warm-up" phase of things. He told me that He loved me. Over and over and over. And I declared, "I love you, Sir." Over ad over and over. Then He had me pull down my leggings and panties, and went back after me on bare skin. I breathed, and gasped, but I was determined to behave as He expects. More than anything else, I wanted to please Him -- I wanted to not dissapoint Him.
Then, He told me, "You are not done yet. Get up." He took me into the bedroom and pushed me down over some pillows. He got a big, heavy lexan paddle, and for the first time, began to lecture me about ever considering ending our relationship; about ever believing that He didn't love me; about remembering that I was His.
Sobbing; contrite; I responded with quiet "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir" answers. The paddle blows fell hard and fast, rocking me into the edge of the bed. I held on. I sobbed, but I was quiet, and I stayed where He'd put me.
He pulled the singletail off the hooks, and began to whip me. I don't know how many strokes. I know that I have a number of welts this evening. I never moved. Not an inch.
Finally, He told me that there would be one more set with the paddle, and then it would be over with. And it was. Over with.
We made love. Really. It was good for us both. Afterwards, exhausted, spent, relieved -- I simply curled into Him and just tried to breathe. For the first time in days and days, I felt good and relaxed and at ease. We laughed. We held each other. We shared kisses.
For all of you, who have supported us through our recent "bump," thank you! We are, I think, going to be OK. Here, for your edification, are the last "butt pictures" of 2009. We will ring out this year with a deep sense of relief, and we will look forward to a much better, and hopefully easier 2010.
All the very best good wishes to all of you for the coming year.
Here
It seems that, if we are going to work this out, it will perhaps happen here where it all broke apart.
I don't know what to say, and I don't know how to move forward. Clearly everything I've offered so far has been viewed as manipulative.
That is the reality. I can't change the way He sees me now. I can only work to see if I can try to repair and rebuild what I've obviously destroyed.
Realizing that walking back through the "history" of this disaster is going to seem like I'm making excuses, I want to say, up front, that I haven't got a single excuse for anything I've done. I was wrong, have been wrong, and stand convicted of all the horrible things that He says I've done through all these days and weeks and years. So, the history is just that -- history, and like all history, it reflects the biases of the teller.
My "craziness" goes back a long way. The words that document it are all in the archives here. If anyone cares, its readily available. I'm not going to reprise all of that. It doesn't seem germane or helpful.
This year has been terribly difficult -- a year of surgeries and illnesses and huge life changes. The outcomes have been ultimately good from a health perspective, but getting here has been a battle. Of course, it wasn't my battle. Only Master and T had surgery. The changes for me have all been peripheral to their journey.
I've had more control this year than is the norm. I've been caretaker and decision maker and manager and keeper of all the bits and pieces. I've tried to offer that as a service. I'm not sure I have been successful in the doing of that.
I've tried to be upbeat and hopeful and patient and optimistic. I've played cheerleader, keeping us focused on the future -- the goal. I've sorted clothes and taken all the photos and celebrated each medication that we crossed off the list. I've been the support "staff." That is the role that was appropriately mine to play.
I went to Denver. By the time I left, I didn't want to go. I was afraid. There wasn't much of anything that I could point to and say THIS is what I am afraid of. I was just wishing that I didn't have to leave and afraid that I wouldn't be able to come back. That sort of nebulous, crazy, emotional weirdness doesn't make any sense to anyone. I know. It just seems crazy. It was a pretty good trip. The baby is delightful. I was lonely and ready to come home way before it was time.
I took a book with me to read on the plane and at the airports and late at night in the hotel. It was given to me at a Catholic school teacher conference I attended recently. It is called "Rediscovering Catholicism," by Matthew Kelly. I don't know why I decided to read it. I've long since left my Catholic upbringing behind. Still, I teach in the Catholic school system, and part of me thought maybe I should "update" my understanding of this particular group of people. Too, I thought, as I read, that I could posit counterarguements and logical dissents to each of his points. What happened, instead is that I got more and more agitated as I read. More uncomfortable and more distraught. More "convicted" of all the evils and failings and sins he writes of. There is an old saying about being raised Catholic: "give us a child until they are seven, and they are ours for life." It is worse than an alcohol addiction. There is no "one drink" for a recovering Catholic.
Poisonous mix: fearful, tired, strung out -- and then stupidly filling my addled brain with the very worst voodoo Catholic bullshit. I did it. To myself. No one to blame but me.
I came home, but I wasn't really home. I was already lost.
Everything else is what it is. I wasn't good in our only play session. All the fear and all the anger and all the panic boiled up and poured out as incoherently as everything else. Convinced that I am bad and unloveable, it was easy to believe that He didn't love me -- and that was the worst of the bad things I've done.
I set up another blog thinking maybe I could write there, and He could read and decide what should be public and what not. I thought it was a small way of putting the control back in His hands. He thinks that is a dumb idea. So. That's that.
Now, He won't play with me. Now He doesn't trust me. Now He says that I am controlling and manipulative. Now He is polite and careful with me. Now He is looking forward to me going back to school.
I am sad. I am lost. I am afraid. I don't know what to do. I don't even know what name to use...
Thank you all for reaching out. I am sorry that I have not got anything more to offer than that.
sue (?)
I don't know what to say, and I don't know how to move forward. Clearly everything I've offered so far has been viewed as manipulative.
That is the reality. I can't change the way He sees me now. I can only work to see if I can try to repair and rebuild what I've obviously destroyed.
Realizing that walking back through the "history" of this disaster is going to seem like I'm making excuses, I want to say, up front, that I haven't got a single excuse for anything I've done. I was wrong, have been wrong, and stand convicted of all the horrible things that He says I've done through all these days and weeks and years. So, the history is just that -- history, and like all history, it reflects the biases of the teller.
My "craziness" goes back a long way. The words that document it are all in the archives here. If anyone cares, its readily available. I'm not going to reprise all of that. It doesn't seem germane or helpful.
This year has been terribly difficult -- a year of surgeries and illnesses and huge life changes. The outcomes have been ultimately good from a health perspective, but getting here has been a battle. Of course, it wasn't my battle. Only Master and T had surgery. The changes for me have all been peripheral to their journey.
I've had more control this year than is the norm. I've been caretaker and decision maker and manager and keeper of all the bits and pieces. I've tried to offer that as a service. I'm not sure I have been successful in the doing of that.
I've tried to be upbeat and hopeful and patient and optimistic. I've played cheerleader, keeping us focused on the future -- the goal. I've sorted clothes and taken all the photos and celebrated each medication that we crossed off the list. I've been the support "staff." That is the role that was appropriately mine to play.
I went to Denver. By the time I left, I didn't want to go. I was afraid. There wasn't much of anything that I could point to and say THIS is what I am afraid of. I was just wishing that I didn't have to leave and afraid that I wouldn't be able to come back. That sort of nebulous, crazy, emotional weirdness doesn't make any sense to anyone. I know. It just seems crazy. It was a pretty good trip. The baby is delightful. I was lonely and ready to come home way before it was time.
I took a book with me to read on the plane and at the airports and late at night in the hotel. It was given to me at a Catholic school teacher conference I attended recently. It is called "Rediscovering Catholicism," by Matthew Kelly. I don't know why I decided to read it. I've long since left my Catholic upbringing behind. Still, I teach in the Catholic school system, and part of me thought maybe I should "update" my understanding of this particular group of people. Too, I thought, as I read, that I could posit counterarguements and logical dissents to each of his points. What happened, instead is that I got more and more agitated as I read. More uncomfortable and more distraught. More "convicted" of all the evils and failings and sins he writes of. There is an old saying about being raised Catholic: "give us a child until they are seven, and they are ours for life." It is worse than an alcohol addiction. There is no "one drink" for a recovering Catholic.
Poisonous mix: fearful, tired, strung out -- and then stupidly filling my addled brain with the very worst voodoo Catholic bullshit. I did it. To myself. No one to blame but me.
I came home, but I wasn't really home. I was already lost.
Everything else is what it is. I wasn't good in our only play session. All the fear and all the anger and all the panic boiled up and poured out as incoherently as everything else. Convinced that I am bad and unloveable, it was easy to believe that He didn't love me -- and that was the worst of the bad things I've done.
I set up another blog thinking maybe I could write there, and He could read and decide what should be public and what not. I thought it was a small way of putting the control back in His hands. He thinks that is a dumb idea. So. That's that.
Now, He won't play with me. Now He doesn't trust me. Now He says that I am controlling and manipulative. Now He is polite and careful with me. Now He is looking forward to me going back to school.
I am sad. I am lost. I am afraid. I don't know what to do. I don't even know what name to use...
Thank you all for reaching out. I am sorry that I have not got anything more to offer than that.
sue (?)
12/30/2009
Where I Am
Yesterday as we rode about town on errands sue said, "Don't you think that we should write something 'letting them off the hook' on the Blog so they know how we are?" I agreed. She also asked (later) if she should put up our 9 months post surgical pictures, with a comparison to our old clothes, and I said she should. She put them on The Herons Transforming and not The Heron Clan. Then she asked me today if we should put them on The Heron Clan? I said yes. She asked if she put them there, if she could list the post about that as coming from me and not her. She was too embaraassed, or too upset, or something, to post anything on The Heron Clan under her name. So our pics are up. She posted them but signed my name to the post for whatever value that has or doesn't have.
So how am I/we? I am going to respond more to how I am. We should be talking more which would give me more insight about how she is, but we are not--sad but true. I think we are avoiding potential confrontations that might occur after such an ugly time between us.
Before I go on, this is so much wrapped up in sue's and my angst, I want to thank and love and appreciate my/our t for her tremendous affection and support and love through all of this for us both. I love you my sweetie heart and thank you for loving and supporitng us.
Where are we? Well we are pleasant again generally. We are no longer hysterical with each other as we were last Sunday. We are getting through the days OK. I am still mostly home due to my surgerical recovery and sue is off for Christmas vacation until next Monday. I never could have believed it, but I am looking forward to her returning to school. I am always thrilled to have more time with her when she is off, and grieve the loss of contact with her when school resumes. I think when school resumes this time it will be a relief.
How are we? I have struggled with what to say about this. sue has told me that she is starting a Blog for only she and I to communicate on. Somehow her invitation for me to join her there has gone awry, which is entirely plausible what with Blogger and all. I have asked her how a private Blog for only the two of us is of any greater value than the two of us simply emailing (or to be really "radical" talking to each other). She has told me that it would give me a chance to decide if what she posts should be posted in public. I am assuming based on that, that she is feeling the problem I had with her post of last weekend was that it was public. I have told her that while there is a minor embarassment factor to having our "stuff" public (my god after what we've blogged her the last 5 years that issue seems as absurd as the rest of this current dilemma does to me) this is not about publically airing our issues (which I think we've done pretty consistantly the last half decade.) I've told her it was more about her wanting to end our relationship about imaginary relationships with imaginary women. She has so far had no response to this. This is typical to our impasse it seems. She asserts that our relationship is compromised by my secret spanking relationships with other women. I assert there are none. She then becomes quiet but very distrubed unless she tells me that had I the opportunity to spank other women I would. In a likely huge strategic blunder, I agree, and we are off to the races.
So how am I? Well, in terms of this I am way better than a few days ago. When all this broke out I had a terrible day. She aserted she was going to leave us and die. I was devastated and asserted she could not leave and that I would (and did) physically prevent her from leaving and that I would die. I drank huge quantities of my newest preferred tequilla and was intent on dying. It was a very ugly day for us both. Quite frankly I am not sure how we survived the end of it. I was blacked out. And sue is not talking, and not posting, so you will have to come to understand the remainder of that story from her someday, if ever.
By the next morning she had sent me an apology as "an unworthy slave" and had deleted her post as is on the Blog now. How sincere this is in terms of how she actually feels, or if it is a manipulation here to prevent my being as draconian in my reaction last weekend, I don't honestly know or trust.
Today we had a pretty good day. I have been pretty active the last few days with all this and with having to help my 91 year old dad with an outpatient surgery (which sue helped me do hugely). I still am finding that if I have very active days I become quite dragged out and symptomatic. I did make it into the office to do some year end stuff late today. She is working admirably at being very service submissive/slave-like, and is achieving that well which is for me after our last seven and a half years very comforting. We did make love in the middle of last night. I would never broach possibly spanking her. I am too wrapped up in the concept of spanking being consensual and self-determined by the spankee to approach that with her again. I am feeling she no longer wants BDSM with me, and that besides that she lives believing there are mystery women living under our bed, who may be saying things in her head, who she believes I am spanking, leaving me feeling insecure and unable to relate.
So how are we? This seems to be the unanswered theme here. I don't really know for sue. She seems less acutely obsessed than a few days ago. She is melodramatiacally reactive at times is frequently verging on tears. She has made frequent references to things as being her fault, even when they clearly were not, stating that everything is her fault. I am comforted and feeling like OK there may be hope of resuming our normal lives after the holidays. I am feeling sad that we had no holidays. After being so ill for Thannksgiving I was really looking forward to Christmas. Her going away to Denver immediately before Christmas was sad and I was very afraid, the way holiday air travel had gone in recent years, we wouldn't have her back until after the new year. When we did, I had no idea she would react by announcing she was ready to end our relationship because of my imaginary relationship(s) with imaginary women. I was floored and devastated.
I spent last Sunday feeling pretty determinedly suicidal. Now I feel that we are both going to survive. I am very bouyed by many of the supportive comments, and some of which have particularly helped me understand what sue might be motivated by. I am totally mystified by her feelings, her behavior.... her antipathy to me, which now has evolved into her guilt and seeming resumption of loving me.
I am sincerely trying to decide if we are dealing with some huge emotional crisis that we should all just hang on and love our way through, or the on set of some serious emotional pathology. We have tried getting mental health care before, and we know it is not available for us in our community because we are poly.
Thank you to all those who have offered us your support. We have received some particularly helpful, non-judgemental, insightful, and supportive comments.
This is not one of my more articulate efforts and I hope I haven't made everything worse,
Thank you,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
.
So how am I/we? I am going to respond more to how I am. We should be talking more which would give me more insight about how she is, but we are not--sad but true. I think we are avoiding potential confrontations that might occur after such an ugly time between us.
Before I go on, this is so much wrapped up in sue's and my angst, I want to thank and love and appreciate my/our t for her tremendous affection and support and love through all of this for us both. I love you my sweetie heart and thank you for loving and supporitng us.
Where are we? Well we are pleasant again generally. We are no longer hysterical with each other as we were last Sunday. We are getting through the days OK. I am still mostly home due to my surgerical recovery and sue is off for Christmas vacation until next Monday. I never could have believed it, but I am looking forward to her returning to school. I am always thrilled to have more time with her when she is off, and grieve the loss of contact with her when school resumes. I think when school resumes this time it will be a relief.
How are we? I have struggled with what to say about this. sue has told me that she is starting a Blog for only she and I to communicate on. Somehow her invitation for me to join her there has gone awry, which is entirely plausible what with Blogger and all. I have asked her how a private Blog for only the two of us is of any greater value than the two of us simply emailing (or to be really "radical" talking to each other). She has told me that it would give me a chance to decide if what she posts should be posted in public. I am assuming based on that, that she is feeling the problem I had with her post of last weekend was that it was public. I have told her that while there is a minor embarassment factor to having our "stuff" public (my god after what we've blogged her the last 5 years that issue seems as absurd as the rest of this current dilemma does to me) this is not about publically airing our issues (which I think we've done pretty consistantly the last half decade.) I've told her it was more about her wanting to end our relationship about imaginary relationships with imaginary women. She has so far had no response to this. This is typical to our impasse it seems. She asserts that our relationship is compromised by my secret spanking relationships with other women. I assert there are none. She then becomes quiet but very distrubed unless she tells me that had I the opportunity to spank other women I would. In a likely huge strategic blunder, I agree, and we are off to the races.
So how am I? Well, in terms of this I am way better than a few days ago. When all this broke out I had a terrible day. She aserted she was going to leave us and die. I was devastated and asserted she could not leave and that I would (and did) physically prevent her from leaving and that I would die. I drank huge quantities of my newest preferred tequilla and was intent on dying. It was a very ugly day for us both. Quite frankly I am not sure how we survived the end of it. I was blacked out. And sue is not talking, and not posting, so you will have to come to understand the remainder of that story from her someday, if ever.
By the next morning she had sent me an apology as "an unworthy slave" and had deleted her post as is on the Blog now. How sincere this is in terms of how she actually feels, or if it is a manipulation here to prevent my being as draconian in my reaction last weekend, I don't honestly know or trust.
Today we had a pretty good day. I have been pretty active the last few days with all this and with having to help my 91 year old dad with an outpatient surgery (which sue helped me do hugely). I still am finding that if I have very active days I become quite dragged out and symptomatic. I did make it into the office to do some year end stuff late today. She is working admirably at being very service submissive/slave-like, and is achieving that well which is for me after our last seven and a half years very comforting. We did make love in the middle of last night. I would never broach possibly spanking her. I am too wrapped up in the concept of spanking being consensual and self-determined by the spankee to approach that with her again. I am feeling she no longer wants BDSM with me, and that besides that she lives believing there are mystery women living under our bed, who may be saying things in her head, who she believes I am spanking, leaving me feeling insecure and unable to relate.
So how are we? This seems to be the unanswered theme here. I don't really know for sue. She seems less acutely obsessed than a few days ago. She is melodramatiacally reactive at times is frequently verging on tears. She has made frequent references to things as being her fault, even when they clearly were not, stating that everything is her fault. I am comforted and feeling like OK there may be hope of resuming our normal lives after the holidays. I am feeling sad that we had no holidays. After being so ill for Thannksgiving I was really looking forward to Christmas. Her going away to Denver immediately before Christmas was sad and I was very afraid, the way holiday air travel had gone in recent years, we wouldn't have her back until after the new year. When we did, I had no idea she would react by announcing she was ready to end our relationship because of my imaginary relationship(s) with imaginary women. I was floored and devastated.
I spent last Sunday feeling pretty determinedly suicidal. Now I feel that we are both going to survive. I am very bouyed by many of the supportive comments, and some of which have particularly helped me understand what sue might be motivated by. I am totally mystified by her feelings, her behavior.... her antipathy to me, which now has evolved into her guilt and seeming resumption of loving me.
I am sincerely trying to decide if we are dealing with some huge emotional crisis that we should all just hang on and love our way through, or the on set of some serious emotional pathology. We have tried getting mental health care before, and we know it is not available for us in our community because we are poly.
Thank you to all those who have offered us your support. We have received some particularly helpful, non-judgemental, insightful, and supportive comments.
This is not one of my more articulate efforts and I hope I haven't made everything worse,
Thank you,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
.
"After" Photos -- Nine Months
We have passed the nine-month mark since the bariatric surgeries (which happened back on March 23). It has been an amazing and wild ride, and I don't think we really ever quite had a picture of where we would be at this point.
One of the things that has characterized our passage through this transition has been the sheer size of the physical change. Both T and I have gone through many, many, many wardrobe changes as the pounds have fallen away. We've hauled bags and bags and bags and bags of discarded, too big clothing to our local Goodwill. Too, we've bought our share of "replacement" items from Goodwill. I have laughingly remarked that I mostly just rent clothes from Goodwill -- keeping them for a few weeks and then returning them to rent others. Whatever we call it, that process has kept us both looking pretty decent, and has saved us a small fortune.
One bit of foresight on sue's part was that, as I began to shrink, she put away a pair of the largest size pants so that "someday" we could take one of those amazing "after" pictures that you sometimes see -- the skinny new body in the former fat pants. We also managed to hold onto the shirt jacket that I wore home from the hospital right after the surgery -- mostly because I just liked it so well that I was never quite willing to turn it loose. T manged to hang onto a couple of great big shirts (one of which was too small for her when she had her surgery), to help remind her of the size that was.
Yesterday, we pulled out the camera and took some of those "after" photos. Perhaps as clearly as any other images, these photos give a clear impression of the radical change that has happened in our lives in 2009.
One of the things that has characterized our passage through this transition has been the sheer size of the physical change. Both T and I have gone through many, many, many wardrobe changes as the pounds have fallen away. We've hauled bags and bags and bags and bags of discarded, too big clothing to our local Goodwill. Too, we've bought our share of "replacement" items from Goodwill. I have laughingly remarked that I mostly just rent clothes from Goodwill -- keeping them for a few weeks and then returning them to rent others. Whatever we call it, that process has kept us both looking pretty decent, and has saved us a small fortune.
One bit of foresight on sue's part was that, as I began to shrink, she put away a pair of the largest size pants so that "someday" we could take one of those amazing "after" pictures that you sometimes see -- the skinny new body in the former fat pants. We also managed to hold onto the shirt jacket that I wore home from the hospital right after the surgery -- mostly because I just liked it so well that I was never quite willing to turn it loose. T manged to hang onto a couple of great big shirts (one of which was too small for her when she had her surgery), to help remind her of the size that was.
Yesterday, we pulled out the camera and took some of those "after" photos. Perhaps as clearly as any other images, these photos give a clear impression of the radical change that has happened in our lives in 2009.
12/27/2009
Here I am Again: One More Time Redoing My Life Script
It should come as no shock to readers here that a key aspect of my life, my sensual erotic orientation has focused on a deep seated compulsive need to spank others. It has been that way since my earliest conscious memories, has never left me, or flagged. Throughout my life I struggled to find a way to have this admittedly strange and intense need accepted and embraced by a woman. To have my central sexual identity embraced and loved. For me to be loved despite or even because this is who I am. I have failed again and again. It appears I still am.
I had a long terrible marriage during years that I was for the most part denying and/or trying to "get over" my needs regarding spanking. I did have some relationships, more like friendships, which included expressions of spanking that, while they were never going to progress to becoming in depth loves, provided outlets for expression and respites of acceptance. Brief periods where I didn't appear too sick and wrong to be cared for by another person because of this need.
Eventually there was (thank god) my divorce and then there was t. She was part of the BDSM community and embraced me as who I was. She loved me. All of me. She did not work around my need for spanking, she loved me because of it. She participated in it. She loved me totally and cared for me and gave to me as no one ever had. We had this two years of wonderful bliss which ended in her becoming horribly ill and almost dying. Our fairy tale appeared likely to become a tragedy. Amazingly, against all odds, she survived and recovered her health. There was one unfortunate casualty, one negative permanent side effect. She had in all the pain she lived through lost her eroticization of pain. She no longer could tolerate spanking. She didn't hate spanking, or think it was wrong, in fact she wished she could still be part of it. But she could not. Our life in terms of my sensual erotic orientation was ended. We still loved each other and were hugely dedicated to each other as we remain today. But there was to be no further spanking between us (at least not with me as Top.) She encouraged me to find others to express this need. She liked friends from the BDSM community and embraced the women I played with whom she laughingly labeled her "stunt butts." Life seemed pretty good compared to my fear that I would lose her all together and be plunged back into loneliness.
As she had been ill I had found in an online DD LISTSERV I was part of a woman in Denver with whom I had connected and who had offered me great support. It was swan. Readers here know the long story of how that on line connection became a deep real time friendship, and love and eventually the other part of the love of my life, our family for the last seven plus years. A key aspect of this relationship was that this wonderful woman discovered with me that she was a masochist and was a very high end spanking practitioner mostly on the bottom end of the power exchange. We loved totally and played and connected deeply around our sadomasochism and I was never more fulfilled in my life. It was clear in those days that my life included spanking friendships with a number of women. In fact some of her earliest visits to us we had the "stunt butts" in for parties which featured lots of gratuitous spanking so she could meet them and they her.
It has become increasingly clear and certainly never more so plain than in swan's post below that this has changed. swan cannot tolerate me talking about spanking with anyone other than her let alone playing with anyone. Further she has come to increasingly find being spanked to be a process she feels abused in. She feels hugely guilty about it and complains that she is falling short in that she can't do it as well as some imaginary cadre of women whom she feels I spank whom she generally refers to as the "spanking chotches." It is difficult to discount these competitors in that there are no women other than her whom I spank. The fact that they don't exist beyond her fears has nothing to do to prevent them from wrecking our relationship no matter how many times I point out the absurdity of this.
So here I am again. Just as when I was 6 now I am at age 60 unable to find a way to have my inner most identity embraced or accepted. I lack a way to express it or share it and have no alliance with a woman to express it.
I love sue beyond everything. I want to continue with her and of course with t. The fact is that there simply is no way for me to ever be accepted and valued for who I am. I have many "socially redeeming" gifts but there is this fatal flaw in my personality, my character which makes me unlovable and unworthy of ever really being accepted loved by a woman.
So here I am again. I am doubting at this point in my life I really have the where with all or the time and energy to try to begin again.
Tom
I had a long terrible marriage during years that I was for the most part denying and/or trying to "get over" my needs regarding spanking. I did have some relationships, more like friendships, which included expressions of spanking that, while they were never going to progress to becoming in depth loves, provided outlets for expression and respites of acceptance. Brief periods where I didn't appear too sick and wrong to be cared for by another person because of this need.
Eventually there was (thank god) my divorce and then there was t. She was part of the BDSM community and embraced me as who I was. She loved me. All of me. She did not work around my need for spanking, she loved me because of it. She participated in it. She loved me totally and cared for me and gave to me as no one ever had. We had this two years of wonderful bliss which ended in her becoming horribly ill and almost dying. Our fairy tale appeared likely to become a tragedy. Amazingly, against all odds, she survived and recovered her health. There was one unfortunate casualty, one negative permanent side effect. She had in all the pain she lived through lost her eroticization of pain. She no longer could tolerate spanking. She didn't hate spanking, or think it was wrong, in fact she wished she could still be part of it. But she could not. Our life in terms of my sensual erotic orientation was ended. We still loved each other and were hugely dedicated to each other as we remain today. But there was to be no further spanking between us (at least not with me as Top.) She encouraged me to find others to express this need. She liked friends from the BDSM community and embraced the women I played with whom she laughingly labeled her "stunt butts." Life seemed pretty good compared to my fear that I would lose her all together and be plunged back into loneliness.
As she had been ill I had found in an online DD LISTSERV I was part of a woman in Denver with whom I had connected and who had offered me great support. It was swan. Readers here know the long story of how that on line connection became a deep real time friendship, and love and eventually the other part of the love of my life, our family for the last seven plus years. A key aspect of this relationship was that this wonderful woman discovered with me that she was a masochist and was a very high end spanking practitioner mostly on the bottom end of the power exchange. We loved totally and played and connected deeply around our sadomasochism and I was never more fulfilled in my life. It was clear in those days that my life included spanking friendships with a number of women. In fact some of her earliest visits to us we had the "stunt butts" in for parties which featured lots of gratuitous spanking so she could meet them and they her.
It has become increasingly clear and certainly never more so plain than in swan's post below that this has changed. swan cannot tolerate me talking about spanking with anyone other than her let alone playing with anyone. Further she has come to increasingly find being spanked to be a process she feels abused in. She feels hugely guilty about it and complains that she is falling short in that she can't do it as well as some imaginary cadre of women whom she feels I spank whom she generally refers to as the "spanking chotches." It is difficult to discount these competitors in that there are no women other than her whom I spank. The fact that they don't exist beyond her fears has nothing to do to prevent them from wrecking our relationship no matter how many times I point out the absurdity of this.
So here I am again. Just as when I was 6 now I am at age 60 unable to find a way to have my inner most identity embraced or accepted. I lack a way to express it or share it and have no alliance with a woman to express it.
I love sue beyond everything. I want to continue with her and of course with t. The fact is that there simply is no way for me to ever be accepted and valued for who I am. I have many "socially redeeming" gifts but there is this fatal flaw in my personality, my character which makes me unlovable and unworthy of ever really being accepted loved by a woman.
So here I am again. I am doubting at this point in my life I really have the where with all or the time and energy to try to begin again.
Tom
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