Don't Underestimate

Don't underestimate me because I am quiet.  I know more than I say, think more than I speak, and observe more than you know.  Many versions of this quote have been around for a long time.  Mickey would say it fits me to a tee.  I am quiet.  It is a part of my nature.
Here are a few of my own versions.

Don't underestimate my strength simply because my body is weak.  I am stronger than I look, I have survived more than most, and I have helped more than you know.  See the blog on Strength, from earlier this month.

Don't underestimate me because I smile.  I know when you are lying, I hide my emotions well and there is more behind it than you see.

Don't  underestimate me because I am generous.  I give without expectation, I have known both wealth and poverty, and recognize when I am being used.

What would a version from you look like?

Facing Our Truth

So what do you do?  People look at me funny when I tell them that I am retired.  I am too young to actually be retired in the sense that most people think.  It is just easier for me to say that I am retired than to blurt out that I am disabled.  Both are true though.  I am very fortunate in that I do receive a retirement benefit and have a steady income.  The fact that I am disabled has held me back from any sort of traditional *job* at this point in my life.  If I am simply standing or sitting, others can't see that there is anything wrong with my body.  I can stand for short periods of time on a good day.  It is when I move, that the difference is apparent. So many times when I am in my wheelchair, I will be asked what is wrong with me.  The question comes 9 times out of 10 from an older person.  They look at me and wonder why someone as young and as healthy looking as I am, has to be in a wheelchair.  Much of the time it is also from an older woman.  The questions use to irritate the hell out of me.
If you haven't learned this about me yet from my blog, let me just say for the record, I question myself a lot!  I question why I feel the way I do.  Why I react a certain way, etc.  So, eventually, I did question myself about why these questions irritated me so much.  First, what I saw was that they were an invasion of my privacy.  Oh, I had the choice on whether or not to answer them.  I had the choice on how much information I gave them.  I controlled the situation, so why was I still irritated by it?
The answer dawned on me when I was sitting on a plane and an older woman was brought in to sit next to me.  She got all settled in, then turned to me and said, *You don't look disabled at all, what's wrong with you?*  What some people don't know is that there is a place on the airplane set aside for the disabled that are travelling alone.  This woman had seen me in my wheelchair as we waited to board.  They put me on board first and then brought her in.  My wheelchair gone, I look like everyone else.  This woman was demanding of an answer. Her question seemed very judgmental to me.  The plane didn't have any other passengers on it yet and would be a 3 hour flight.  I was stuck next to this woman, up front so the flight attendants can get to us quickly, for at least the next 4 hours.  In all honesty, she was the sweet old grandmother type and at least 80.  But, she wanted an answer and it irritated me.  I am not disrespectful and I wasn't then either.  I politely told her that my legs were not as strong as even hers.  She walked with a cane and had walked with aide from the waiting area and onto the plane.  That explanation was not good enough for her.   She did not have the best hearing, so everything I did say, I had to repeat at least once, louder.  The conversation was ended before we got in the air.  That is when the real answer to why the question irritated me, came to me.
The question forced me to face the *disability* head on.  If I choose to have the conversation, it made me face myself and my physical limitations truthfully.  I did not want to do that.  On that plane, I compared myself to this elderly woman.  She could physically do more than I could.  She had walked in, so her legs were stronger.  She had a very heavy purse which I couldn't pick up, so her arms were stronger.  In that moment, I felt sorry for myself.  Hell, I even wondered what *she* was doing in the handicapped section!
Facing our truths aren't always easy.  It can be made tougher when we feel like something outside of ourselves is making us face that truth.  I was receiving a lot of *inquiring minds want to know* requests and becoming irritated.  Once I realized the why of it, I handled it better.  I faced my truth in that area and came to better terms with it.  Now, I can smile, laugh and in some cases educate another person, when those questions come.
Everyone's truth is different.  We are all unique individuals with a wide range of things that are true about us.  We choose who we share that with.  We also choose how truthful we are with ourselves about it.  I have found that in facing my truths, I also can decide to focus on either the negative or the positive side of that truth.  What my mind dwells on is going to grow one way or the other.  I could have continued feeling sorry for myself with all the *I can'ts*.  Instead, I focused on the fact that I was able to travel alone, I had excellent people who took me to the plane, very attentive service while on the plane, wonderful people meeting me and helping me off the plane, special permissions given for all of those dropping me off and picking me up to be right at the gates to send me off and to pick me up.  Every need was met, and so on.  Strange thing about this event is that it was the last time I was allowed to travel alone.  I am glad to have come to the realization that I did on that plane.  Facing that one small part of my truth changed me for the better.  So, even though it can be difficult, face your truth.  See what good things you can find on the other side of the experience.

Being Thankful

Have you ever stopped to think about the good things in your life?  Sometimes we get so caught up in what's going wrong, that we overlook the things that are going right.  There is so much to be thankful for.  I heard a quote from somewhere that said..*what if we woke up tomorrow only having the things we were thankful for today?*  Some of us would be in a world of hurt and NOT in a good way!
I am as guilty as everyone else.  I don't consider myself a negative person at all.  I do know that I can get stuck on the negative, completely missing the other side of things.
What is there to be thankful for in such a screwed up world?  There is war, killing, poverty, prejudice, injustice, abuses...and more.  I am not thankful for those things.  I have said before that I desire to be part of the solution.  What happens when those things come to roost in our own lives?  How do we respond?
I am not about to be thankful for the disabled man who took one look at my partner, who asked him if he needed help and had the gall to say to her, that he didn't want help from a homosexual.  He continued and  basically told her to go to hell.  Mickey, the woman of patience and wisdom that she is, replied to him.. "first, what ever possessed you to think I am a lesbian? My looks? I feel sorry for you that you refuse a helping hand from someone who is offering it, based on how they look.  I hope you have a more pleasant day."  And, she walked away.  Can't say I would have been as polite.  Mickey teaches me so much through word and action and for that I am very thankful.  She gets the rude remarks and the dirty looks, way too often in my opinion.  She has learned to handle them, most of the time, with a grace that makes me love her even more.
I am thankful for my partner in life.  She is an amazing woman, strong, loving, gentle, caring, passionate, dominant, giving, generous, very much *out* as a lesbian and Top.  She loves to spank me, as well as others.  How can some one like me, not be thankful for that?
Sometimes we get caught up in needs that are not really needs.  I *need* $20 so I can go to the movies with my friends.  Okay, I will swap you that $20 for your next 20 hours of water to drink.  Kind of a basic need.  Water, air, shelter...
What about when it seems like everything in our life is going wrong?  Don't have a job, didn't get the pay raise, or to really bring it straight to the heart - when we have come to the place where we feel worthless?  I have been there.  Wondering why I was even on this planet.  The LAST thing I wanted was for any one to suggest to me to start thinking about what was *good* in my life.  Dammit, in that place, I can't think of anything *good*!  Not in that frame of mind.  It takes hard work to bring yourself back from that dark mood place.  I have seen too that it seems like a lot of others are ready to jump on the band wagon of negativity and depression.  I am thankful for the people in my life that stand up to me, tell me the truth and present another opinion.  Joining me in my pity party isn't going to help either one of us.
Some people will see the title of this entry and not even read it.  There is something about thankfulness that turns people away.  It is strange that when we need it most, we want little to do with it.  Changing our thinking in those dark moments is not easy.  I fight it.  Sometimes it is like I would rather wade around in that yuck than listen to and practice a way out of it.  There is no person reading this that can honestly say there is nothing to be thankful for.  What are you thankful for?

Need

Sitting here with so many things going through my mind.  The subjects of discipline and spanking are a part of what I am thinking about.  Having a need for spanking.  Needing to know that someone else cares enough to take disciplinary measures with me.  I have 2 in my life that do just that.  It is the *need* that I am really thinking about.  How can it be such a huge need?  Where did it come from and why does it remain?
I know what many of the psychologists say about it.  I think they are wrong.  This thing that is so special and makes me feel so cared about and loved, did not come from the fact that I come from a history of abuse.  It just didn't.  The pain from that abuse has to go some place but it didn't go into the need for spanking.  I was not physically abused.  I was not spanked.
Others being spanked were all around me in my younger years.  My sister was spanked by our mother pretty often when we were younger.  Did I really pull that into myself as the way I would know that I was loved?  The private school used paddling and I was aware of it.  I watched my father spank my mother.  I am sure they all had an effect on me.  I had one therapist tell me once that because of how I grew up I connected pain with love.
Dammit!  THAT is not right.

This *thing* that I love and need is bigger and deeper than that.  I don't like pain.  I have been described as a masochist in the past because I could take anything dished out in the percussive side of BDSM.  My personal situation has changed and I haven't been able to do that, or even wanted to for 4 years.  But, with spanking there is like there is this fever in me that goes higher and higher as the need for it grows.  It is a physical feeling and it effects me emotionally.  Going without a spanking for awhile effects my mood.  Certainly, not in a good way.
I love being spanked.  I love what it does to me.  I love the closeness and the feel of skin on skin.  I feel the safest laying over a lap waiting to be spanked.  Just laying in that position has a huge effect on me emotionally.  There is nothing abusive there for me.  Not every spanking is meant to set my backside on fire either.  There is a connection that happens.  With Mickey, it is the deepest of all connections.  There is also a change that takes place in me and I always come away from those times, changed for the better.
Being spanked centers me.  When life and stress and stuff just gets in the way of my *ok-ness*, that spanking helps me think more clearly again.  It helps me face it all more productively.  I am not one who cries when being spanked.  I am not certain that anyone can actually take me there. (No, this is not a challenge)  I believe that it would take a huge overwhelming of my senses to actually take me to tears in a spanking.
The reason spanking remains a need in my life is because of what it does for me and how it makes me feel.  As far as where it came from... I just don't know.  I think some of us are just born like this.

Impulse

I sometimes have a very impulsive nature.  My partner would likely respond to that with, "REALLY, ya think?"  At least my intentions are good ones for the most part.  I am guilty of having an idea and running with it.  Only later, bringing the people around me up to speed on it.  I did just that last night, with an idea I had.  I did finally slow myself down and completely fill my partner in on everything.  Which she was agreeable to, by the way.  She thought my idea was a pretty good one and wished that she had been brought in at the start of it, or even told first, instead of brought in at the middle.  I do the same thing with conversations with her so much of the time.  I will be thinking about something and having a conversation in my head.  Sort of weighing the pros and cons of it, or some such thing.  Then, I will start talking to her about it.  I can't put a number on how many times she has stopped me as I was speaking and asked me if I could bring her in at the start of the conversation. lol.  She laughingly reminds me that she wasn't present at the beginning of the conversation because it was in my head!
Impulse can get a little crazy.  I do impulse shop.  When I am shopping I will fill the cart with things that catch my eye.  I am certain at that moment that I want them.  Then, thankfully for our budget, about two aisles later I will take that thing out of the cart and lay it on a shelf somewhere.  Deciding then that it is not something that I really need.  I am likely one of the stock-person's worse nightmares.  I don't mean to do it.  I probably could retrace my steps and return the item where I found it.  But, I don't.  It also doesn't matter what sort of store it is either, gift shop, grocery store, department store... you name it, I have done it!  If I think I want it, I just can't resist that urge to put it in the cart right then.  Luckily for me, once that urge and impulse has died down and I look at the item again, I can talk myself out of it.  *I don't really need it, Next month I will have more money,  I might find it for a better price, If I wait, the money could go toward something else I want, How many T-shirts does one girl need?, etc.* (I confess, I have a t-shirt collection)  I have an elephant collection as well.  What I don't have is a t-shirt with an elephant on it, lol!  Maybe it is time for a shopping trip?
Thinking a little about the ID, Ego & Super Ego.  That sort of plays out in my shopping style.  The impulse of thinking I just *need* that thing right now, figuring out how to meet that need by tossing the item in my basket and then talking myself out of it. (or talking sense into myself)
Impulse is a sudden strong, and unreflective urge or desire to act.  Not stopping to think it through.  When that impulse is for wanting a thing, then instant gratification shows up.  That is what I feel when I toss that item in my basket.  When I talk myself out of it, a lot of the times it isn't a *no* to myself.  It is more of a *wait*.  Delayed gratification.  Yes, I am going somewhere with this.
Delayed gratification is defined as the ability to resist the temptation for an immediate reward and wait for a later reward.  Generally delayed gratification is associated with resisting a smaller but more immediate reward in order to receive a larger or more enduring reward later.  A lot of things have been written about and studied that shows, having the ability to delay gratification can lead to a lot of other positive outcomes in a person's life.  Like, academic success, physical and psychological health.  (this is a sort of paraphrase of a definition)  What it shows me is that learning to rein in our/my impulses can have a very positive effect.  Consider, that cupcake that sure seems to be screaming for you to purchase and eat it.  Controlling that impulse can sure add to better physical well-being.  Staying in and doing the required assignment and resisting the urge to go out to the party is or should help the grades improve.
Controlling our impulses, learning to control them doesn't end with childhood. For some people, they actually have a disorder that impedes them from controlling impulses.  Most of us don't have that problem.  We have the ability to control the impulse, even if like in my case it comes a little later than I would like.  When we don't rein in some of our impulses we can cause serious harm to ourselves and to others.  To me, it all comes back to self discipline.  A continuous teaching of myself.  I am fortunate to have others in my life that have no problem helping me rein in those impulses and exercise discipline when I fall short.  Friends and family around us can be great teachers and role models of impulse control.  You don't have to be in a D/s or spanking relationship to grow in your impulse control.  Even in a relationship where I am disciplined, if I don't want to change, grow, learn, I am not going to.  I believe that if you want it (better impulse control) you can have it!  Takes a wanting to, the willingness and practice.  Simple, right?

Fun Spankings vs Punishment Spankings

Fun vs punishment.... In other words, how do you punish someone who likes spanking, with a spanking?  If you are a bottom like I am, you know that there is a big difference.  In fun there is usually a lot less emotions that are real. (for me anyway)  There can even be laughter through out the whole thing from both the Spanker and the spankee.  The offenses are made up even if the role play is totally serious.  There is just a completely different mindset.  The release a fun spanking can bring is wonderful as well.  It can do so much for both involved.  It can draw them closer.  It can release stress for both.  Even though it can also be quite a work-out for both, it can be invigorating.  It can bring a *high* with it.  Fun spankings between Mickey and I have even cleared the air so to speak.  It renews our bond.  Bottom-line.  It is Fun!
Punishment on the other hand - whole different mindset.  In a punishment session, the emotions are so very real, (for me).  So much so, that if I am scolded in any way, it brings a huge humbling inside of me.  Mickey has given me a couple of spankings that were punishment in nature.  Actually only one comes to mind and it was when I decided to stop taking all of my medications.  I was just sick and tired of taking about 25 pills a day.  It made sense to me to just stop and not tell anybody.  I was feeling *ok* so I convinced myself I didn't need them.  I think a lot of us think like that... we don't want to do something so we convince ourselves that we really don't need to.  Definitely, the wrong choice for me.  I did not tell Mickey any of this.  The subject came up later, after I had started retaking them.  I no longer remember how it came up or the circumstances around it.  I told her that I had stopped taking my meds for awhile.  I wasn't even thinking it was a bad thing.  I was immediately questioned. ( Whatever we had been talking about went right out the window.)  * Are you taking them all now? Are you taking them properly? When did this happen? What in the hell made you think it was ok? Do you realize the health risk you took? Do you know you could have died!!?*  I heard her tone filled with concern and so serious.  There was no anger, no raised voice, not even a sternness. For me it was all just matter-of-fact.  THEN, she got silent.  I mean completely, silent.  I watched her and she wouldn't even look at me.  That's when it hit me that I was in trouble here.  I am not sure exactly what I said but it was to the effect of, *I am in big trouble, aren't I?*  She told me that I was and that she was far to angry to continue the conversation at that moment.  She stayed emotionally distant from me and pretty much completely silent for at least two days.  Inside of me, anxiety grew, the knowledge that I had made a very wrong choice for myself in stopping my meds grew, guilty feelings grew, it was bad, all bad.  It was like the next day that she then also made me tell my Mistress who was still in my life then.  She was in Spain at the time and I was told to phone her and tell her as well what I had done.  Thank God, she was in Spain.  I had never been in real trouble much with either of them.  Stefany was 100% Italian and boy did she yell!  I was chewed out in multiple languages.  She was so angry she was jumping from English to French to Italian.  Yes I understood.  She told me she wanted to ground me to my room for a week with absolutely nothing and no contact with anyone, not friends, not her, not Mickey..no electronics, no books, no writing implements, just me and me thinking about what I had done.  All of that of course after she had beaten me bloody!  Her words, not mine.  I got an earful and was told that I would be getting the spanking of my life.  (She ended up staying in Spain and I never saw her face to face again.)  She and Mickey talked as well and that conversation took place well out of my hearing range.  After that conversation is when I started becoming afraid.  Not of the spanking.  I was afraid I had been so bad that they both were going to have nothing more to do with me.  I wanted Mickey to spank me by then.  I knew it would not be fun or easy.  I felt so bad inside, I just wanted the brokenness that I felt to be dealt with and healed.  I had failed them by not taking care of myself.  I was given one day like I described above and it was excruciating for me.  After that is when Mickey started talking to me again.  I was assured that I was still loved and wanted and would be spanked.  It was all matter-of-factly told to me.  The scolding and spanking would come later.  And it did.  This is where spanking for fun, playing spanking, takes a whole different turn for someone who loves to be spanked.  Mickey scolding me brought tears to my eyes.  I couldn't in any way adequately tell her how sorry I was.  I was paddled with no warm up, with a large wooden paddle that actually says on it *Crie Adjuster*  A paddle I had made for her but sure hated having it used.  It was directly on the bare and it hurt like hell.  There was nothing playful or fun in that for either one of us.  I think that some people wouldn't even consider it an actual punishment spanking.  But, it was.  The punishment was in all of it.  That time that was close to three days had just as much to do with the spanking, the punishment and I learned my lesson for sure.
A spanking for punishment works differently than one for fun.  Everything about it is different.  Even the demeanor of the two involved, is different.  I actually want punishment spankings when I am being corrected.  No matter what the correction actually is.  Correction in my life is more verbal, time-out, and writing... when it is finished, it is a spanking from Mickey that again seals the bond, draws me to her and for me, brings an end to the punishment.  When she is not happy with me or something I have done, the spanking after whatever the correction or punishment actually was, is brought to an end by the spanking.  My world is ok again, I have been forgiven and I am loved.  Maybe it is strange that we don't see these as punishment spankings.  It's just the way it works for us.  I rarely ever cry and that is not a sign on whether or not it was a punishment
Someone who loves spankings knows the difference between what is fun and what is punishment.  I was given a punishment spanking by Miss Jenn.  It was not administered harshly.  It came from a place of care, concern and love.  I was being punished and knew I was being punished.  I was angry and hating it most of the time and I am the one who loves spankings.
 Talk to your Top (or your bottom) about what the difference is for the two of you.  Find out what works for you both.  Again, communicate :)

A Quote

I found this quote in an interview with Miss Chris : "I particularly enjoy taking a spankee on a tour of land and prospects they wouldn’t be able to explore with anyone else. I like to say I’m the Tour Guide through Hell, I can take you there, as deeply as you want to go, help you navigate while you’re there, and then lead you back out into the world a better, and stronger person."

I know that sometimes there is what is almost like a love/hate relationship with spankings.  The wanting and the need is there.  The build up while waiting for it is filled with so many different feelings.  The preparation can be thrilling and anxiety filled. The ritual of going over the lap, the raising of the skirt and rolling down of the panties. Then there is the actual spanking.  It might start off soft and easy or hot and hard.  Either way, it often builds up to a level of pain that sometimes we don't think we want any more.  It hurts!  I have been over a lap or two where I have wondered how I got myself into this and promised repeatedly that I would never ever do it again. Pretty much hating it as it gets more painful.  When it is done and over with - there is a release.  For me, very often a centering.  My world is okay again.  Whatever was going on prior to the spanking, is now different.  
I had never thought of it quite in the way that Miss Chris described.  A spanking partner or a Disciplinarian, can really do that with the one they are spanking.  They have so much responsibility placed on them.  They have to watch us, read our body language, watch the skin, the whole time, enjoying themselves as well.  After all, would they really do it if they didn't enjoy it?  Don't get me wrong, as the one being spanked, we are not off the hook in the responsibility department.  We are responsible for our well-being emotionally and physically.  Someone spanking us may say something unknowingly that triggers us in a bad way.  We have to own that and communicate that with the Top.  I will never be able to emphasis enough how important communication is.  More than that, it has to be honest, open communication.  There are somethings that we just don't want to share.  Whether it is from embarrassment or shame or something else, all I can say is SAY it anyway.  If you are preparing for a spanking, especially with a new person, be honest!  They are Tops, not mind-readers.  They can take us on an unforgettable journey and hopefully we want it to be a very nice one when we have reached the end.
I believe that a Disciplinary Spanker who takes on a bottom, does exactly what Miss Chris is describing.  Whether it is one session or many, if it is for discipline specifically, there is a type of journey that can take place.  Looking at those places where guilt has risen.  Being scolded for specific things.  Spanked for specific real life offenses.  Standing in the corner or writing lines.  There is a purpose in it.  The result so much of the time is the release of so much pent up emotion and guilt.  On the other side of the session emerges a person who is a little different, changed, stronger, lighter, freer, etc.

Tiny Soldier

Oh tiny soldier, with your stubbornness and grit, this is not a giving up, it's just the time to quit.  You're battle worn body, wracked with scars and pain, there's nothing more for you to give and everything to gain.  Your weapons can be laid down, right here in this place.  Let us wash those blood soaked tears, from your tiny face.  Arms now wait for you, to wash the guilt and grime of war.  The fields have all grown over, the pain will be no more.  Your bravery that went unseen, now shines here in this place.  The days ahead wait for you, filled with love and grace.
**************************************************************

Something I wrote tonight.  The tiny soldier that fought for sanity in a f*cked up world.
It wasn't right.  It wasn't fair and it wasn't her fault. ( I know at least two people who will be glad I said that)
I am suppose to say, it wasn't *my* fault.  Right now, I can say that I am trying.  Actually, I am suppose to not say again, that it *is* my fault.
The blame is on me for destroying the relationship with my mother.  WHOA!! Back up.  How is that statement in any way honoring the tiny soldier?   It isn't.  It is setting blame where none should be.  That little soldier may need to answer for a couple of things now.  She did some pretty rotten things.  The thing is though, that the *answering*, correction and or punishment, isn't about the deed so much as it is about the guilt.  I guess I kind of see it as stripping her of those old filthy clothes of war and placing her in a warm bath.  Gently cleansing what is under those torn blood stained pieces of armor.  Soothing her whole body in the warmth of that water.  As the cleansing water pours over her, letting her hear those words of love, hear that she is loved, she is good, she is free, she is whole, she is wanted, she is brave, she doesn't have to fight anymore, the war is over.

Breaking Down The Wall

I have been told frequently lately that I am stronger than I know.  Grabbing a hold of that and truly believing it for myself isn't easy.  At least right now it isn't.  I want to move forward.  Sometimes, my whole being screams out that I just can't.  I can't take one more step.  I can't reach out one more time.  I can't face this. I can't, I can't, I can't.
Funny, how sometimes the answer is right there inside of me.  Just waiting for my screams to silence so I can hear it.
There is a rage in me.  I have kept it pretty safely walled up inside me.  Protected myself from it.  Sure, haven't wanted to see it let alone feel it.  Absolutely no way I have wanted anyone else to see it.  Knowing it is there does scare me.  I have visions of the rage of my father.  What if i am like him?  Is the potential to be like that in me?
There is a very angry, tantrum throwing little girl inside me.  I realized tonight that I have never acknowledged that anger.  Stuffing it down, hiding it away, walling it up.... none of those things are in any way actually dealing with it.  It is time to start breaking down the wall.  No dynamite, nothing drastic... just a few bricks at a time.  Acknowledging that the little girl me who went through all of this horror actually has every right to be enraged.

I Quit

How many times have I said that?  Or actually done it?  Just quit.  Stop.  Throw the towel in?  Given up on myself or the situation?
Sometimes I feel like I am standing at a cross-roads.  Standing, waiting, contemplating, weighing my options.  The longer I stand here, the more I want to just turn around and run back to what is known and familiar.  I am sure I am not the only one that has found them self in this sort of place.  How often do we want to run back to where, even though it might not be, it feels safer?  At least we know what to expect there.
Two very impact-full things have happened to me this month.  Both intense.  Both emotion filled.  Both have made changes in me.  Both made me cry.  That in itself is enough to scare the living hell out of me.  Crying, for me means I have lost control.  I have never seen that as a good thing for myself.  Both have opened my heart and I don't know what to do with all these new emotions.
I am afraid and I want to quit.
What if instead, I say, I surrender?  Since, I can't exactly say that I welcome what is ahead but I know that it is right for me.  Can I say, I surrender to it?  I surrender to following this hard road regardless of the fear?  Is that being brave?   For sure, fear has chipped away at my dedication.
But, surrendering sounds like giving up too...

These are the times that I have to speak peace to myself.  I have to encourage myself.  This is the sort of situation where the parent in me comes out and I try to do the right things.  Setting boundaries around myself.  Allowing myself only a certain amount of time to dwell on whatever *it* is.  Then going and doing something else completely.  Redirecting myself into something that is fun for me to do.  Doing something someone else has asked me to do.  Doing whatever it is that takes my mind away from the distressing one at hand.  This is also when I do have to grab those boot-straps and pull.  I know that deep within, I don't want to quit or run away.  I went as far today as asking two people to please not let me quit.  Setting up what I hope will be safe-guards in place if they ever become needed.
I know we all experience the fight or flight question when we face some things in our lives.  And it is much easier to encourage someone else than to encourage ourselves, a lot of the time!  I don't want to encourage myself at these points when I want to run away. I just want to quit.  I try to move away from what is troubling me, center myself, and come back to *it* later.

Discipline

Discipline.  I am sure that word congers up different images for different people.  I am sure that for many who follow my blog, the first image is of a spanking.  It is one of the first things that cross my mind as well.  I have been spanked by quite a few different women in my adult life. ( No male has ever spanked me.)   Although I have been spanked by many, none were allowed to discipline me.  There was no correctional aspect to it. There was nothing there that had anything to do with changing or encouraging a certain behavior. (Miss Jenn is the exception)

Mickey and I share a D/s relationship that probably could also be correctly described as a DD relationship. (D/s - Dominant and submissive, DD - Domestic discipline)  There is no doubt that She is the head of household.  Both relationships came from a foundation of trust that was built through constant communication.  There was and still is a learning curve going on.  Mickey has my best interest at heart when she talks to me about something in my life.  She wants me safe physically and emotionally.  The discipline often revolves around something that needs to change.  A real problem for her right now is my refusal to eat and the fact that when I do finally agree to eat, or remember that I need to, I won't eat anything but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  This actually has been going on for months now, at least 4.  The *discipline* process began with a lot of communication.  She has wanted to understand why I am not eating.  Sometimes, I just forget.  Food has never been important to me.  Mickey has seen me over the years get stuck on just one food.  I will want that food every day.  But until recently it was often just a certain fruit and I still ate small normal type meals.  I got stuck on wheat chex cereal for awhile and there was no less than 3 boxes in the house at any given time.  Because, I was still eating other meals with other foods, it was okay.  This time, I don't want any food at all.  I do forget, but it has also grown now to the point that even when I do remember, I just don't want it.  I have struggled with body issue things in the past and was anorexic.  At my lowest I weighed 64 pounds.  I am at 121 right now.  Not a *bad* weight for my 5'1" frame.  One of the problems for me is that I don't exactly have the curves that come with being a grown woman.  So when I look in the mirror, I see a barrel with arms and legs.  Even at my tiniest, I still had a stomach pouch and no amount of exercise made it go away.  It infuriated me.  Mickey and I talked about all of this.  I had/have the freedom to be completely honest without judgment.  She listens.  She encourages and makes suggestions.  She also brings truth into my body image vs. the reality of it. Communication is vital and with us it is constant.  She tells me her thoughts and concerns on this whole *food* thing as well as her wants.  With the communication happening and continuing, she started asking me what I wanted to eat, when it came time for us to have a meal.  Then came just being presented with a plate with the expectation that I at least take a few bites.  The discipline increased and has now moved into the *stage* where I have been told that I will eat at least one sandwich during the time that I am awake.  Tonight, I was presented with a protein shake that I was expected to finish and told that I will also eat at 2:00, no excuses.  I know full well that if I choose to not eat a sandwich at 2:00 there will be consequences.  The reason I am telling this is to show one of the ways discipline is taking place in my life and in our relationship.  It didn't go from her noticing that I was eating just one food, to demanding change from me or punishing me for it.  It didn't go from seeing that I stopped eating completely to demanding that I eat.  There was and is a process and not all situations are the same.  She has, can and will put her foot down when she thinks that is needed and do so immediately.  With this one, it was a slower path to her putting her foot down and it is definitely *down*.  The whole *process* was and is discipline with us.  With this one ,Mickey has tried to understand more and guide me to healthier choices.  She hasn't spanked me or done anything that others might see as punishment.  We have gone through other things similar to this, a similar path, that at this point, often included a threat, or question from her, "Maybe I should tell *so & so* what you are doing and let *her*deal with you." It is not that Mickey is incapable, not by any means.  That threat comes because Mickey knows me so well and herself.  It comes in part sometimes because she doesn't want the lover in her to hold her back from dealing with me more harshly if need be.  She has been that same *threat* to other girls from other dominants and not one of those girls wants to be sent to her to be dealt with!  There was a friend in our lives that Mickey knew if I was forced to tell her what I was doing/not doing, just the threat of me needing to tell her and the scolding I would get (because I had experienced it before) was enough to break through whatever resistance I was still trying to hold on to.  They never are and never have been empty threats. I know that Mickey is not far from spanking me.  She is also likely not far from getting Miss Jenn involved.  When Mickey has gone to involving someone else, She monitors it as well.  Anything and everything this other person had told me to do, from corner time, writing lines,  restrictions, etc, Mickey has made sure they were completely finished or followed exactly as instructed.  It was not a pleasant experience for me.

 Miss Jenn is also my Disciplinarian.  This relationship too has taken open, honest communication and building trust.  Just like with Mickey, I have no doubt that if she says she is going to do something, that she will.  They each have my respect and even though I am the one being corrected or spanked, even punished, I know that I too am respected.  Respect is another pillar of discipline, right up there with communication and trust.

Discipline is one of those subjects that could take hours and hours of writing blogs, exploring the different aspects, methods, what it means, etc.  Something to think about for sure.

Commitment

I was listening to something the other day about commitment.  In the clip, it was said that so many of us view commitment as a prison.  A place where we feel stuck, even chained in place.  It went on to say that commitment is dedication.  Realizing there is a need and committing to fulfilling that need.
It got me thinking....
So many say that they can't commit themselves to a certain project or person.  We are quick to view them as being afraid of commitment.  When that word is changed to dedication, a whole new world opens up.  For me, dedication makes it more personal, more related to me.  Being dedicated is more of something I choose and the *chains* of commitment fall away.
When I am struggling with a project that needs to be finished and I think to myself that I committed to do *this*, sometimes I do feel the weight of that commitment.  It comes across as negativity.  Especially if I have reached a point where I just don't want to continue with whatever *it* is.  I will hear that voice in my head that tells me I have committed myself to doing *this*  It means I must continue, plug away at it, finish it, regardless of how I might feel, because I committed myself to that particular project.
Thinking now of dedication instead of commitment, brings a whole new understanding.  Dedicating myself to something pulls it right back into my choice.  Commitment seems rooted in cement where dedication is more fluid.
I am committed to my partner.  I am also dedicated to her.  Her needs, wants, desires, dreams, wishes, well being, etc. are all extremely important to me.  It is dedication that keeps me coming back to her. (not that I have ever left)  Being dedicated to her, I see her need and I work too toward fulfilling that need she has.  Not out of a *have to* but out of a want to.  I can see that dedication is much more fluid than commitment.  It grows and swells, ebbs and expands.  It leaves more room, in my thinking anyway, for the growth of a relationship.  Dedication can and does change as we change and grow.
I have said that I committed myself to writing in this blog at least every other day.  I will admit that sometimes I have looked at this screen wondering why I ever took this on. I ask myself:  Why did I ever commit to writing at least every other day?  Why did I do that to myself?  I realized today that it is not commitment that keeps me coming back here and writing, it is dedication.  A dedication that really comes from a promise to myself.  I know the need in me to write.  This is one tool that plays a part in fulfilling that need.
I think that all of us can see where we have dedicated or committed ourselves to someone else.  For me, seeing the need and trying to help comes naturally.  But, oh boy, when that is switched up on me.  When it is someone else seeing that in me and coming alongside me as I am struggling with something, so many buttons inside me gets pushed!  I know I push people away.  I know I have a hard time letting anyone very close to me.  I know I struggle with even believing that someone cares about me.  The old voices I think I have silenced, will come running back in and tell me I am worthless, tell me I don't deserve it, and so on.  If I can be dedicated to something or someone, what makes me think that it can't be the same for someone else?  Who am I to judge?  An example of this that happened recently, is a few nights ago when I was just having a rough time after a rough day.  My partner was asleep.  I wanted to run into her arms, but she was asleep and I chose not to wake her up.  In the morning when she heard this she was so upset that I didn't wake her up.  I know that she cares about me.  I know she would have gotten up and sat with me for awhile.  I let my own negative thoughts stop me from seeking her out.  As I thought about this later, I realized that *I* would have wanted her to wake me up.  The commitment we have to one another, the dedication and the love, is a two way street... I am guilty of sometimes making it a one-way avenue that doesn't allow her to show the same things toward me.
Whether it is commitment or dedication, enter into it unbound from any chains that might hold you back, from either side of the street!

Medicine

"Not all medicine needs to be ingested. Some is heard, some seen, some is felt."  This is a quote from Dr.V.
That quote gets me thinking about the things that bring the most healing into our lives.  It makes me think about the things that can touch my own life with much more significance than any meds that are put into my body.  I am not knocking meds, I would likely not be alive without them.
It makes me stop and think about the things I have heard.  A piece of music that is so touching it is beyond words of explanation.  It brings a soothing into me that can calm the brewing storm that threatens to rise.  The music that moves me to the point that I can't stand still.  I have to move.  It plucks away at my mood, helping me to change it.  The music that is so familiar that I am automatically singing along to it at the top of my lungs.  All, medicine for my soul.  When my mood is *ugly* I often feel the pain in my body more intensely. For me, change the mood, change the pain level, works more often than not.
It is not only in music.  The sounds around me make a difference.  Running water in nature is a sound that can take me to another place.  I find some of the greatest peace there.  A baby giggling with all that they are, always brings a smile to my face.  It can be so contagious, regardless of my mood.  Hearing the voices of those that I know care about me, reminding me that I am loved, that I am strong, that they care.... these give me added strength.  They can be the medicine that I hear that helps me take one more step or tackle one more issue.  Those sounds, all of them, can be the medicine that means the difference between success and failure on my part.   For me they can bring healing and peace and wholeness and sometimes in ways I had in no way expected.
What have I seen that was as a medicine to me?  The face of a person I didn't know was coming to visit and I hadn't seen in years.  An elderly couple walking hand in hand.  A piece of art that played on my emotions. An elephant, almost any elephant, for some reason brings a smile to my face.  The open arms of one who loves me, beckoning me into them.  The spanking implement held in the hand of one who means to use it on me.  Eyes filled with compassion.  Books I have read that open my eyes to something different.  The success of someone I care about.  The passing from this life into death of the man I held in my arms.
What I see with all of these things are they address me, (or us) as a whole person, not just flesh and bone.  There is another quote from Dr.V. that goes something like this:  Why seek out a healer that profits from illness?  That speaks volumes to me about treating the whole person that I am.  I am much more than what can be seen easily and on x-ray.  There is medicine, in the sense that Dr.V. is using it, all around each of us.  There for the taking if we wish.

Learning

Learning for me is a lifetime goal.  I don't mean in just the academic sense, although that always continues in my life.  Learning can involve so much more than intellectual knowledge.  It seems that I have always craved to *know*, to *understand* to *learn*.  Having facts alone just doesn't cut it for me.  I can be a parrot and spout the facts back.  That just isn't what gets me going.  In so many areas in my life, I want to know myself better.  I want to understand others better.  I strive to be the best person I can be.  My learning is not self-centered which might seem strange since most of my learning is about becoming a better person.  I don't care if I understand and can participate in a conversation about physics.  Things like that interest me, yes.  It is the day to day stuff that ignites a fire inside of me.
Today, I saw a woman standing on the street corner holding a sign that said she was homeless and that anything would help.  I don't have to be homeless to learn how it feels.  I am not in need of a lesson on homelessness.  In seeing that, it sets me off on a journey, exploring first within myself.  Do I have compassion?  What have I done recently in showing compassion?  And, where can I put into action that need to help someone else?  Questions like that rise in me so much of the time.  Some might call it self examination.  I call it learning, because, well, I learn from it.  Having the questions, isn't the end of the road for me.  The questions are not always the same.  Neither are the answers.  Homelessness has been in the news a lot lately.  Seeing that woman today took me from a casual viewer of the news about homeless camps to actively researching what is being done in my community and where I might be able to help.  It made me look at my own callousness that can and does arise with such things sometimes. In what ways can I be a better citizen?  How can I reach out and help?  For me, that is all learning that has nothing to do with a classroom.  What I do with the new found knowledge is up to me.  It is the same process when sitting through a lecture on a certain subject.  What did I learn?  How does it apply to me? What can I do with the knowledge?
Some would say that I am a researcher at heart, and they are probably right.  Some have called me an active learner.  I learn best through experiences and doing.   The application of what I am learning seems to work best for me.  There is a need to put into practice what I am being taught, or what I am learning.  There simply is a need in me to continue learning and I want it to continue growing!

Hair Removal

I didn't write this and don't remember where I found it years ago....but I loved it.  It had me laughing like crazy!. 

Enjoy!
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - the Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. Read on.. 
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: 
'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.' 

So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. 
It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. 
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!) 

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. 

('Cold wax,' yeah.. Right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. IT WORKS! 

Ok, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. 

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself.... RRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPP! 

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!!.....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!! 

Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out..must stay conscious.. must stay conscious. 

Do I hear crashing drums???? Breathe, breathe .OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip. There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???? 

Slyly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip.. It's not!! I touch. I am touching wax. 

I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake... remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. 

Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut! 

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do next and think to myself 'Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!' What can I do to melt the wax? 

Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right????WRONG!!!!!!! 

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. 

Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub..in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. 

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of t he tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! 

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter 'So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!' 

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, 'are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?' 

She's laughing out loud by now... I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. 

YEAH!!!! RIGHT!!!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. 

While we go through the various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than having your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!!! 

By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event. 

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace..the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!! 

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. Its sooo painful, but I really don't care. 'IT WORKS!!!! It works!!!!' 

I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successful ly remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair..THE HAIR IS STILL THERE..ALL OF IT! 

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point. 

Next week I'm going to try hair color! 

The Guide

So, if you were to write a guide about yourself for others, what would the title be?  Would it say, *Fragile, Handle With Care*?  *Caution, Road Work Ahead*?  *Slippery When Wet*?  Oh come on, you knew I would throw something like that in! lol!
I have been guilty of telling some people that I wish they could just plug into my brain and hear my thoughts.  My voice has a habit of getting lost.  Sometimes having so much to say and the words just wont materialize. Thinking about that actually is what got me thinking about *A guide to Crie*
For each of us, that guide would look different.  I would venture to guess that it also would not be exactly the same version given out to the different people in our lives.  For myself, it already would be at least two different versions because of the age-play I participate in.
Some things though, for all of us, would be the same.  At least I would hope that they would be.  Things like: Treat with respect, kindness and love.  Always tell me the truth.  Hopefully you get the idea.  For so many, myself included, it can be difficult to express wants and needs, likes and dislikes.
I think that the *guide to ourselves* is what we give to the people in our lives a little at a time as the relationship grows.  We *learn* about one another.  I know from experience that even in a long term relationship that is healthy and intimate, it can still be difficult to express even a like or dislike.
What would a guide about you look like?  Here is an idea of what a guide to Crie would look like.

Crie:  (In no particular order)

1. Please be patient with me, I am still learning and I am teachable.
2. I welcome any and all questions and will always answer as best I can.  If I don't know, I will get back to you as soon as I can with what I do know or have found out.
3. I give respect to everyone.  I believe in second chances and understand that everyone makes mistakes.  I will take the time to earn your respect and trust.
4. I want your honesty and you will get the same from me. I will keep your confidence and respect your privacy and I hope for the same in return.  I want to be treated with kindness, not kid-gloves.
5. I am generous, but ask that you not take advantage of that. Giving is something I love.
6. Showing affection is difficult for me, so please proceed slowly and with permission if you have any doubt whether or not you are someone who can touch me.  Initiating a hug can be so difficult for me, that doesn't mean that I don't want them.  Hearing the words, *I love you* from those in my life always touches me deeply. I don't take them lightly or say them easily.
7. My quietness is just that, quietness.  It is not a reflection of you or the situation.
8. I am always ready to listen and willing to help you in any way I can.
9. I am a strong, independent, stubborn woman who has a huge heart filled with compassion.
10. For those who can touch me freely, I welcome that swat on the rear or the impromptu spanking, as much if not more than the hug, anytime, anywhere.  Both tell me that you care for me.

So, there is 10 for me, off the top of my head.  What would yours look like?
I collect elephants in all shapes and sizes both stuffed and in figurines.  I hate time-out and corner time.  I stomp my foot.  I am prone to pout but usually in fun.  I tell goofy stories.  I love the dark, the water and walking through graveyards..... I think once we get started, our lists about ourselves could just grow and grow!!  I believe the one absolute common for all of us is: We Want to Love and be Loved!!

Rejection

Over the past few days, I have been experiencing a lot of emotions.  That has led to me questioning myself.  There is no one that could ever be as hard on me as I am.  I am not very nice about it.  Probably, not very fair about it either.  I judge myself harshly.  I know this about myself, know it isn't very good, yet I still do it.  Old habits are hard to break.
In my questioning over the past couple of days, I have realized that there is an underlying fear.  The fear is rejection.  Oddly, I fear rejection and expect it at the same time.  I am not sure how to separate those two.  I know I don't want to draw rejection toward me.  I certainly don't set out to be rejected.  I think for me, fear and rejection go hand in hand when I let someone close to me.
Even though I am use to being hurt by others, the few times I have opened up, I have still hoped that I wouldn't be.  I had hoped that my trust wasn't being misplaced and that it wouldn't be abused.  Don't get me wrong, no one in my life right now has rejected me or hurt me.  Quite the opposite actually.
It is this lingering fear that haunts me.
How do I live in today, free from the past?  How do I completely embrace all the good in my life right now and silence the past?
I have always blamed myself for destroying my relationship with my mother.  I hit her and my whole world changed.  I caused her to completely reject me.  No amount of trying to tell me that I didn't, has helped change this deep rooted belief.  It doesn't matter how stupid it sounds to someone else.  The blame for all the hell in that relationship is on me.  Even when I grew to the place where I wanted nothing to do with her, I still took all the blame.  Sure, I was angry with her.  I hated her for a long time.  She didn't care about me.  I was never good enough. Never!  I believed that she hated me as well and wanted nothing to do with me.  Her world was better with me not in it.
That rejection was really on both of us.  I hit her and she walked away.  I guess one of the things that it taught me is that you can make a mistake that ends in total rejection.  A mistake can lead to a non repairable relationship.  Tough lesson for a 5 year old.  But, one that makes a lasting imprint.  This has followed me in a lot of ways into today.
Me, making a mistake doesn't sit well with me.  I do beat myself up if I think I have made a mistake.  If I know I have disappointed someone, the boxing gloves come out and I am in for an internal beating.  There wasn't much opportunity for me to learn that mistakes aren't the end of the world.  Very little chance to learn that someone can be disappointed and still continue caring about me. There was no parent there that addressed the matter and helped me move on.  What I did learn is that I could expect rejection or I could reject first and just protect myself from rejection.  There is no way I could have put that into words as a kid, but my actions showed it.
Those old voices run through my head, telling me I am not good enough.  They tell me I am not worthy and on and on.  Silencing them isn't easy at all.  There is a lot of fight in me.  A lot of repeating truth to myself.  I might not actually believe it at the moment yet I do keep speaking it.  At those lowest points where I think I am even rejecting myself, I try to treat myself like I would want someone else to if they were with me.  Holding onto myself, speaking encouraging words...
Coming from a place of expecting rejection, I can tell you that it takes a lot to come to a place of trust.  It takes a lot to believe someones words are really true.  I don't mean to meet the words with mistrust.  Every part of me wants to believe they are true and every part of me is afraid.

I Dare You

Yes, I dare you to __________.  Fill in the blank.

So what is it?  What did you fill the blank with?  Was it personal? Was it directed toward me?  Remember the game, Truth or Dare?  Sometimes I think that life is a little like that game.  It can contain all the silliness and absurdity of the things we dreamed up in our younger years.  Someone daring us to kiss someone else, or share the truth about whether or not we have ever kissed someone.  Think about it.  Today we are faced with those sort of challenges.  Do we tell the truth about who we are?  Do we dare to be real?  Do we tell someone honestly how we feel?  The truth and the dare are so much closer now that we are older.  Do we dare step out and tell our truth?
In the game it was often embarrassment or fear of judgment that made us choose the dare.  Then there were a few of us that just loved the excitement of trying a dare!  The growing anticipation can be intoxicating.
Today we face the question of our truths all the time.  The truth is that none of us are promised a tomorrow.  So, do we dare to tell that person that we love them?  Do we dare to put ourselves out there and risk disappointment or rejection?  Do we dare to do the thing we have been putting off?  I know I hesitate to make that call or send that email, all the time.  I do foolishly hold on to the thought that there is always a tomorrow.  And, I have been burned by that magical thinking a time or two.  Thankfully, I have gotten better at acting on letting someone know that I care.  When a friend comes to mind, I do try to reach out and let them know that I am thinking of them.  It doesn't have to be a long drawn out conversation or email.  The simplest reminder can change someone's world and put a smile on their face.
I do understand that not everyone can shout their truth from the rooftops.  Nor do they have the freedom to, in some cases.  Having at least one person in your life that you can be completely honest with is an enormous blessing.  Having at least one person that knows your whole truth and that you dare to just be fully yourself with, is freeing.  There are a couple of people like that in my life and I am forever grateful!  I made a very conscious decision about 15 years ago to no longer hide my truth.  I had felt like I was living a lie and it became intolerable to me.  Part of it was about spanking and I had come to the point that I no longer cared what anyone thought.  I didn't flaunt my truth.  I also didn't hide it.
I welcome questions and comments.  Those that know me, know that they will get the truth.  Sometimes, I do ask them first if they are sure they want the answer.  Especially if they are asking about my past.  I don't shy away from the questions anymore.  That said, I also believe that truth can be used as a weapon to hurt others.  (Something like a *back-handed compliment* But, I will leave that for a different blog post.)  I want to be wise about how I chose to answer someone.  Think about it this way: Having a 5 year old ask you where babies come from, the truth you give them will be very different from the truth you give a child of 13.  Truth should never be purposely overwhelming.  Truth sometimes is used for the shock value of it.  To me, that is just cruel.  Dare to be kind and caring in your truth!
That dream you have secretly inside you, dare to do one small thing today towards making it real.  Do you dream of a raise in pay?  Dare yourself to begin listing your attributes and the reasons you might deserve to be considered for a raise.  Dare to list the areas you believe you need to improve.  Do you dream of one day being spanked?  Dare to put that wish in writing for yourself.  Dare to take risks, CALCULATED, risks.  Keeping yourself safe should be the number one priority in any dare!  Playing the game truth and dare, you would never follow through on the dare to drink a glass of bleach!  So, don't be foolish as you take those little steps forward.
Embrace your truth and dare to be yourself!  Come on, I dare you!

Age Play

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered how you got to be so old? Or, how you could feel so young? Or while looking at your reflection thought that what you were seeing sure didn't match what you were feeling?  I know I have.  Especially before and after I have done some age-play.
I enjoy age-play.  There is a 7 year old little girl in me that likes to have the freedom to play.  I have coloring books, stuffed animals, tea sets, blocks, books and a doll.  Things you might find in any little girl's bedroom.  Mickey, Daddie Mickey, spoils her little girl rotten.  She is often surprising me with something new.  I have the freedom to go and play anytime I want to.  The Master bedroom is set up for both the big and little me.  So many of the things have spilled out into the living room and it is not unusual to find me coloring in a coloring book while watching a television program.  I have both adult and children's coloring books.  Coloring relaxes me and has been useful in bringing down stress levels sometimes.  These impromptu times are just that, a few moments in time where I just relax and am in a younger mindset.
We also have planned out age-play times together.  These have been private, in the bedroom, intimate times of care and love.  Nothing sexual takes place.  All of it is nurturing.  I have never been a brat.  Well, not in the sense of some of what I have seen in videos on the internet.  Often, I have her laughing at my antics and I think we are both surprised at the freedom age-play really gives me.  Our age-play also has not been limited to the bedroom.  Daddie Mickey has taken me places.  To the movies, to the park, to the water, which is my favorite place in the whole world, where we both are just interacting together in a different way.  She has taken me to build-a-bear, a place where you make your own stuffed animal.  My most prized possession is a stuffed penguin.  When I squeeze it's paw, I hear Daddie Mickey saying, Daddie loves her little girl!  If I ever want or need a reminder, all I have to do is squeeze that paw and I can hear her, in her own words.  It makes my heart smile every time!
Adults age-play for a lot of different reasons, I'm sure.  For me it is a mixture of things.  It is therapeutic and healing for sure.  When the therapist I had been seeing told me that what I really needed was to be reparented, I didn't know what to think.  The thought of anyone acting like a parent toward me scared the living hell out of me.  I wasn't open to the idea, even after she explained what she meant by it.  She talked to me about what a parent should bring into a child's life and what was never brought into my own.  She spoke to me about nurturing, affection, encouragement, trust, and more.  Really all I heard at the time was myself being in a vulnerable state and I wanted no part of it.  Hell, even now very few people in my life are allowed to touch me, let alone hold me in their arms!
But, now because of some age-play, I get it.  I am receiving nurturing and affection from outside of myself.  I have always been my own parent, finding ways to encourage myself, doing what I could to make sure I was physically and emotionally safe.  In age-play, I dont have to fight so hard to keep that time safe, I can just be me, and it is fun.
I know that some age-players brat the *adults* because they are trying to get spanked.  They want the sensation of being spanked by the parent, aunt, uncle, teacher, etc.  That just hasn't been my way.  I have wanted to know that the *parent* cares enough about me to give the spanking.  I have wanted to hear the warning and wanted to be confident that if I continued what ever it was I was doing, the *parent* really was going to spank me.  I have needed that assurance that No means No and Yes means Yes.

Strength

Strength.  What is it? Is it measured in how much weight we can pick up?  Is it in our ability to over-take another person?  I suppose it could be.
Strength too is sometimes doing what seems so difficult.
Strength can be getting up and facing another day.  Strength can be taking one more step when your body hurts so much and your brain is screaming no, but you do it anyway.  Strength can be going against the crowd.  Doing or being the unpopular.  Strength can be standing up for your convictions.  Strength can be facing yourself honestly.  Strength sometimes is that step right past fear.  Being so afraid, but taking that step anyway.
I called myself strong today.  I feel anything but, actually.  If I am to be honest, I would have to say that I actually feel pretty fragile at the moment.
Past memories came up strongly and shook me up pretty good.  I felt the need to write out what I could and share it with two people who are important to me.  Both of them are on my side and I know I can trust them to just listen.  I won't be judged and I will be heard. They are walking with me, along side me.  I am sure if I were to stumble and fall, one or the other, maybe even both, would reach for my hand.
As the past emotions were storming through me, I found myself wanting to rely on past behaviors that are in no way good for me.  I had to find the strength to remind myself that this was just a memory.  I had to remind myself that I am strong.  Encourage myself that I could get through it.  Remind myself that it wasn't happening now, it was/is the past.
Strength is grabbing a hold of your own bootstraps and pulling with all your might.  Strength is telling yourself,  No!  Strength is holding on tight, to yourself as the storm rages.  Strength is having your eyes fixed to the horizon and watching for the end of the storm.
I have never allowed anyone close to me when the storm of a memory floods over me.  Not even my partner.  Most of the time if it happens, I am completely alone anyway.  I think my childhood prepared me for dealing with these things alone.  Don't know if that is good or bad.  It's just how it was.  Now, I do have someone I can turn to, someone who wants me to turn to her.  So far, I just can't.  I have to wait until the storm is past and my emotions are under control.  The closest thing I have done in letting someone near me while the storm was raging, was writing last night and actually sharing it.  I didn't feel strong at all.  I wanted someone's arms around me.  I didn't want to be alone.  I was hurting and I wanted the hurt to stop.  In the past, I would cut myself to make the emotional pain stop.  Last night, it would have been so easy to use a knife.  I was in that place.  But, I didn't.
When we are in the grip of emotional pain, it is so easy to make wrong choices.  It takes strength, real strength to pull ourselves back from the brink of what could lead to destruction in extreme cases.  At some point in our lives, we all are going to feel that heart wrenching emotional pain.  We are strong enough to make it through.  We have the strength.
We do have to realize that we are worth fighting for.  We do have the strength to hang on one more minute.  If it means picking up the phone and saying, help me... we have the strength.  If it means waking the person in the other room, we can be strong enough to take that step.
I think the biggest enemy to strength is a sense of worthlessness.  When we believe the lies that worthlessness sometimes screams in our face, strength wanes.  Strength seems elusive.  It is still there, just buried under so many lies.  It atrophies because we have forgotten how to use it.
Let's all exercise some strength because we ARE strong!

Spanking Horoscope

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22) – Be prepared to learn a painful lesson. Chances are good, though, you will be grateful afterward.

Oh my!  I was sort of aimlessly searching the web and came across this page that was listed as spanking horoscopes.  I am a Virgo.  Can we just say that it is spot on?

My Disciplinarian

The phone call led to a little more communication and setting a time to get together.  Everything just fell together in a beautiful and unexpected way.  Miss Jenn of Seattle was going to step into my life in a way that no one else ever had.  I dreamed of this.  I wanted this.  I was sure I wanted it.  Then when the day did arrive, I was a bundle of nervous excitement.  Heck, I didn't know what to expect.  I mean, I knew I was going to be given a spanking.  Just all these other thoughts came soaring through my mind too.  Would I be able to let myself go and step into the role of the little girl?  And, if I did embrace that role fully, would she also treat that little me with care?  Could I trust her with that?  Looking back, I am sure my concerns were pretty normal, but I found out that I didn't have anything to worry about.  I have done a lot of role-play and age-play before.  Never before was I able to let go and dive right into being that little girl.  Not the way that I did during that time.  Miss Jenn got it all, the shy bashful little girl to begin with, quickly followed by the willful, stubborn, defiant one who had never ever had anyone discipline her before.  She and I had decided on doing a mother/daughter scene.  Tackling right off the bat my disrespect for any female authority figure, starting off with what should have been my first female authority.  It was the right choice for me.  Miss Jenn balanced so well the need for strict discipline with a heart full of care and concern.  It was perfect for what she and I were playing out.  Anyone who has gone to see Miss Jenn knows that she has no problem flipping that switch from what comes across as kind friend, to no nonsense strict disciplinarian!  Experiencing that had a tremendous impact on me.  She stayed in character and dealt firmly with a defiant, tantrum throwing little girl.  That little girl me did not want to obey her and did a lot of protesting!  Staying true to what I imagine would be a maternal authority figure in every good sense of that position, Miss Jenn dealt with every action that little me gave her!  I was told why I was going to be punished and when I complained and said that she had never done that to me before, she acknowledged that she hadn't and told me that she DID know that it was long overdue.  Every act of willfulness on my part was met with her own willfulness, and guess who won out?  Sure, wasn't the little girl me.  Miss Jenn was so in-tuned to me and what was going on in me that even the hesitations on my part, the stalling, was met with *Crie Lin, I said now.*  No yelling, just a firmness and my full name that sliced through my rebellion almost instantly.
 Miss Jenn is most definitely a Spanker!    She IS a professional disciplinarian.  I was given the longest most intense spanking of my life.  She addressed real things from my past and let me know in no uncertain terms that I would no longer be getting away with them.  She reached in and touched that little girl part of me, reassuring that little girl that things would be different from now on.  Even letting me know that even though I had been so naughty for so long and getting away with it, that did not make me a *bad* girl.  I was a good girl who received a very long overdue spanking for some very naughty things.
There is so much I could continue to say.  So much that happened in that time together.  Really though, right now I still just want to keep it to myself.  I came away from it with an incredibly sore backside and a sense of freedom that I have never experienced before.  She and I will be getting together more.  She is a disciplinarian from Seattle and now too, she is my disciplinarian!
Thank You Miss Jenn!

My Journey To A Disciplinarian

When I originally wrote this I didn't have permission yet to use her name. Miss Jenn is the Disciplinarian I am referring to. 
You can find her at: spankingseattle.blogspot.com


When I wrote my last post, I knew that the next day I was going to be meeting with a woman who was going to discipline me.  I had stepped out of my comfort zone and asked for help.  So, I wrote to the woman after having done my homework.  There was no sort of picking a name out of a hat and saying *you* will do.  It was important to me to be as sure as possible that she and I would be a good fit.  My first email to her was polite and let me tell you, I listed my concerns right off the bat.  I will also admit that as I was writing it, I was shaking like crazy even though I was seated alone in my own home.  Clicking send, I didn't know if it would be seen any time soon.  I didn't know if it would just be ignored.  I just knew that I had to try.
I was responded to much quicker than I could have ever imagined.  I was stunned that she actually addressed each one of my concerns with a candor I had in no way expected.  She was very professional and at the same time answered each of my concerns in a very personal way.  I had told her what I was looking for.  Explaining that it would be role-play and I was very concerned that I might regress into the little girl that I was.  Her response went right to the heart of the matter.  She told me straight up that from the sounds of it, I probably would experience some regression. (that was not calming to me at the time, lol) And, went on to say that maybe that was exactly what I needed and that it might also prove to be very therapeutic for me.
I started filling out the application sent to me even though my heart was feeling pretty heavy at the prospect of the fees that I needed to come up with.  Being the girl that I am, I didn't see that as something blocking me, just a stumbling block that I knew I would get over.  Things worth having are worth fighting for.  I have found that the sacrifices I make that are intended for good, 99.9% of the time have a very positive outcome.  The sacrifices rarely have anything to do with me gaining something either.  Almost always it has been for the good of someone else.  So this too was a new step for me, a new path.
I took about 24 hours to very thoughtfully go through the application and fill it out.  All of this was done with my partner's full knowledge.  She was included in every step.  I was and am lucky enough that she too wanted this for me.  It was hard for her at first when I voiced the need for an interaction with a more feminine woman.  My partner, Mickey went through feelings of not being good enough, feelings of frustrations that she couldn't meet this need in me, and more.  We had for over 2 years very long and in depth conversations about this.  (Mickey is extremely butch and has a huge heart. Knowing that she couldn't do this for me was something she struggled with.  Oh, how she wanted to!  In that talking she actually discovered something in herself as well.  We had started out as Mistress and girl, we found out that what actually fit better in describing our D/s relationship with one another was Daddie Mickey and girl.  Now, Daddie comes out of my mouth with all the love and respect that had come with Mistress.  Her eyes light up still, every time I call her Daddie instead of Mickey.  We still share a D/s relationship and have added more role-play which includes Daddie and her lil girl.)  Not only did my partner come to accept that I had this need, she began looking for someone to fill it as well.  There have been a handful of women who have done some age play with me.  Just age-play, nothing too emotional.  The connection just wasn't there for me to go forward.  All of this was before I had any idea that something such as a Professional Disciplinarian even existed
I sent the application and stated the times I would pretty much always be available for a phone call.  With my crazy schedule, getting a hold of me on the telephone doesn't usually mesh very well with others.  The call would be to see how we each felt about the other.  You know, what sort of *vibe* would there be?  I didn't think anything more about it really.  I had taken the steps and we would just see where it goes.  I was proud of myself for going this far.  Of course I hoped that she and I would connect, see that we were on the same page, and so on.  When my phone rang the evening after I sent the application, it was the last thing on my mind when I answered the phone.  It was her!  This woman that I knew to be so very busy according to everything in her blog, found time in that schedule to call me and take me through another step in the process.  I was so freakin' startled and surprised that my voice was even shaking.  Getting past the nerves came pretty easy.  She made it easy.  She asked her questions and listened, really listened to me.  There was a connection and I knew without a doubt, that not only had she accepted me as a client, she was the right one!

January 2016

There are so many things that can be written about at the start of a new year.  Resolutions, hopes, dreams, goals, promises... the list goes on and on.  The new year for me is going to start out on a very different note.  What I have learned, especially in this past year, is that  just hoping and wishing for something isn't going to make it somehow magically appear.  I have learned that keeping my hope to myself accomplishes nothing.  I have learned that even though putting my hope, wish, dream, out there for someone else to see or hear, is very hard and even scary, without that step, I am simply lost in my own dream.  I have learned that getting negative responses is not the end of the world or the death of the dream, hope.  I have learned that taking the advice of someone who seems to really have your best interest at heart, can prove to be not only fruitful but, so beneficial. (Thank You, Ms.Dana!)  I have learned that the vulnerability of saying, I need, isn't going to kill me.  I have learned that even the tiniest steps toward my dream are still steps.  I have learned that I must do the work to bring that dream to life.  It is my dream after all and I must put the effort into it.  I could go on and on.
For this new year, I just want to continue learning.