Feeling Frustrated

I am feeling pretty insignificant at the moment.  That might not be the best word to describe it.  I am in a situation where I cannot do anything really to help.  Not being able to help is seriously causing heart-ache.  My partner is very ill.  There is not a damn thing I can do to make this time easier for her.  She faces another surgery next week.  She is in pain and very stressed out.  On top of her own issues, she is worried about me.  I can tell her until I am blue in the face that I will be fine, but she won't believe it.  We have a support system around us and they have stepped in to help.  Mickey is still holding onto the reigns and trying to do everything.  I can't get her to slow down or to step back.  She feels responsible for me and I get that.  Taking care of me is her full-time job.  As her partner, I also want to take care of her.  Physically, I can't do much of anything.  The best I can do most days is be a sounding board.  When I feel like I can get up and do something, someone is always telling me to sit back down and they will do it.  I have been having more seizures and that has everyone on edge.  There is a fear of me falling.  How do I function and feel like I am helping in some way when everyone keeps shutting me down?  How do I feel like I am contributing in a positive way when the concern is focused on me?  God, I hate this!  I just want to be normal.  I want to be a loving and supportive partner.  I want to be her strength when she is so weak.  She would tell you that I am.  I sure just don't feel like it right now.  Anything that I can do just seems so small and insignificant.  These are the times that I get frustrated and angry over my disabilities.  It is times like this that the limits I have physically, hit me hard.  I want it to be different.  I want to pick up the slack and make things easier on her.  I want to hold her in my arms and protect her from all that she is going through physically.

Learning to Love

I have been thinking about love the past couple of days.  Where does the ability to love someone come from?  Is love *just* an emotion? A feeling? An action?  I believe that we all are born with the capacity to love.  So I guess the first thing I believe about love is that it is a verb.  So, how do we learn to love?
I was never sure what love felt like.  I didn't know that anyone really loved me.  I didn't hear the words, I love you from my parents or anyone else in my life.  What I saw around me being done in the name of love, just wasn't appealing to me either.  I did see my mother and sister together sharing special times that I didn't experience.  I called it love and it probably was.  The affection between them was not something that I had with anyone.
I think we each develop our own sense of what love is to us.  We see children all the time parroting back an adults love.  It is shown in words and actions.  Is that how we learn it?  When we are loved, our capacity, to love, grows?  I think this is one of the keys.  We learn to love others and love our selves when we are first loved.  When we grasp our worth in the eyes of another.  I believe that this opens us up to accepting and giving love.  I think that when someone else shows us the things they cherish in us, it helps us to love ourselves which hopefully leads to us expanding that love by doing the same with others.

Saying No

Saying no to yourself.   Respecting your own limits.  Protecting your own limits.  Learning when we really need to say, *I'll pass* on that.  Maybe it is passing on that horror flick because we know it will mess with our head.  It might be not watching that suspense film right before bed.  Or the old standby, not having the cake with the ice cream.  We all have our limits.  I think many of us don't protect ourselves the way we could.  We fail to respect our own limits.
I have talked about this before.  About needing to be our own parent.  It is really about taking good care of ourselves.  It is pretty easy to think of this in the physical sense.  We are bombarded by ads telling us all about taking care of our physical bodies.  What about emotionally, mentally, spiritually?  We are much more than a physical body.
For myself, I need to be careful about what I choose to read or watch.  As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, it is more important to me to protect myself from some of the information that is out there.  I need to respect myself and know with as much certainty as possible, where my limits are on what I can take in.  Books, movies and news articles about childhood sexual abuse are likely to go unseen by me.  As parent to myself I do my best to protect that limit.  The limit being to avoid triggering too many memories.  Since I know those things can still trigger me, I protect myself as much as possible.  That doesn't mean it is forever.  It is not a permanent *no*  What I can and cannot handle emotionally, changes as I do.  Some days are better than others.  It is about knowing myself and being honest with myself.
Saying no to myself isn't about restriction and punishment.  It is all about loving and protecting myself.  Getting a handle on that has helped my growth tremendously.

Travelling

We went to Oregon for a few days.  Getting away from the normal things as well as spending some time with family.  Travelling can be so hard on me physically.  My body does not appreciate long car rides.  On top of that, I also want to do everything that everyone else wants to do.  Too often I push myself too hard and then pay for it when I get home.  It still just seems like I should be able to do every thing.
I still enjoy travelling and exploring new things.  I do have to find new ways or different ways to do some of it.  There is frustration involved most of the time.  It bugs me that I have to choose how much I am going to do based on daily energy levels.  I remember the days when I didn't have to think about that.  Now, I have to plan on it.  I do have to consider how much energy different things will take and what I am willing to sacrifice.  When you are in pain all the time, it saps your energy.  Then add the long car ride which causes more pain.  I need to consider what shape I will be in when I get there and then express what I will need or how much time I will need to recuperate.
How can I go through all this and more and still say I enjoy travelling to new places, etc.?  Well, it is easy, because I do.  My body changing has changed my life.  It has forced me to change the way I do things for sure.  I still have within me the desire to learn and explore.  Understanding better how my body works helps me to make better plans when travelling.  It can be annoying but it is necessary.  We have to make plans for me to rest once we arrive.  We make planned pit stops along the way as well.
Today in the car on the way home listening to the two others tease about pulling the car over to spank me on the side of the road was hilarious.  They teased that I am so little that other drivers would think they were spanking an actual child and for sure call the police.  The trip itself may be hard on my body, but I wouldn't give up these happy times for anything!

Never Let...

Journey of Healing

Travelling this road of healing takes tremendous work some days.  Work, that if I am honest, at times I just don't want to do.  There are days that I want it all to just go away.  There are days that turn out just beautiful.  There are days that I look forward to the rising sun, because for me that means bedtime.
My body has adjusted itself to an odd schedule.  I spent over a year not being able to sleep for more than 2-3 hours at a time.  Pain made sleep impossible.  Even taking narcotic pain meds every 4 hours didn't help this problem.  Now, either I have adjusted to the pain, or my body screamed for sleep loud enough, that my sleep pattern changed.  Unless I have appointments early in the day, I can count on getting at least 6 hours of sleep at a time.
Some days, memories will flood over me.  Most of them unpleasant, but not all.  I have found it important to remember the good things.  To force those images to the front as well.  Not everything from the past was bad and I need to remember that.
It has been important for me to also take time off.  To give myself a break from some of the horror that I remember.  I can't imagine staying sane if I was dealing with the past, 24/7.  Life is NOW.  It isn't going to stand still for me while I deal with the past.  I find things that I enjoy and do them on a regular basis.
I have had to learn to deal with high levels of stress.  Memories can be very stressful.  Especially during the times when memories seem to be relentless.  I am fortunate to have wonderful people close to me who remind me that it is memory and not something that is happening right now.  I may be physically and emotionally experiencing the brutality of  being raped when I was seven but thank god they can reach in and grab a hold of me until the sensations stop.  It is stress-filled.  I have had to find things that help me deal with that stress.
Everyone's journey toward healing is going to be different.  And, every journey is worth it.

In the Storm

In our lives we are going to face stormy times.  There will be struggles.  We will feel and be weak.  No one is immune to this.  During those times when things are so hard, we will question why.  We will not be at our best.  I think that those times are when we need to be sure of the people we allow close to us.  I believe this because I believe that we are shaped and formed in the storms.
When I am walking, (or crawling) through a stormy period in my life, I would rather have one person sitting with me quietly than have many people with me speaking a thousand useless words.  The silent strength of one person, just being with me, offers more hope than anything 10 others could say.
I have days where it seems that everything I touch just falls apart.  I know we all can relate.  Having a day that would just be described as a bad day.
But man, when those types of days string together...
and no matter how hard we try, nothing gets better...
Then, we are in a storm.  We are battered by so many different emotions and events, none of them pleasant.  In the midst of it all, it can be impossible to see the end.  The storms of life are never as short as we would like for them to be either!  During those times, I do hear the encouraging words from others - Mostly, I cannot embrace them, not while in the storm.  If I allow someone near me then, it is simply their presence that means all the world to me.  I am not listening to their words, not in any real sense.  I am drawing from their offered strength.  Resting from the battle in the storm, if only for a few minutes.

The Monster

That is how I refer to the first man who sexually abused me.  I call him the Monster.  My first image of him and the abuse is from before I was 2 years old.  Without mentioning the monster that was a part of the memory, I described what I remembered to my mother.  I described the empty room, looking out a big window and that it was only my father and me there.  My mother told me that I could not possibly have remembered that because I was around 18 months old!  She told me it was the house that the family was moving into then and that my father had taken me with him when he went to sign the lease.  I described to her perfectly the room and the low window.  I just didn't tell her about the monster..

See, *the Monster* was something that I had a few nightmares over.  It was a long necked red haired monster.  I was very tiny, looking up at my father but all I could see was the monster.  I couldn't see my father but he was there.  I was afraid of the monster.  My first therapist after talking to me about this a few times, asked me if I knew where the monster had come from.  I had no freaking idea.  She asked me to tell my mother about it (The empty room, etc) and see if she could pin point how old I might have been.  Armed with that information, proof that it was a real memory and my age, my therapist did something horrible to me.  She asked me if I thought I could draw a picture of the Monster.  I knew I could and so I started drawing it for her.  When I was finished drawing and coloring it, she looked at it.  Then she showed it to me and asked me what I saw.  I started to say *The Monster* from my nightmare and then I was floored as recognition hit me.  I was staring at a drawing of a man's erect penis!  My father is a red head.  Seeing  it from underneath and looking up because I was so tiny, it was my father's erect penis and it was my Monster!

Right now I refer to this abuser as the Monster.  My therapist continually corrects me and says *your father*.  I continually get angry with her over it.  She keeps pushing my buttons, which is not usually a good thing!  So far, I have needed to keep the Monster and my father separate.  I just haven't been ready to really embrace the fact that they are one and the same person.

Small Things

Do small things with great love - Mother Teresa

Isn't that how we touch the world around us in the most meaningful way?  It isn't about the big things that get talked about in the newspapers and on t.v.  It is the day to day little things that we do for one another that changes lives for the better.  Something as simple as a smile, given freely and with compassion can change someone else's total day.
I do believe that change begins with me.  My heart cries over the horrible things that are happening in our world.  I know that I cannot make an impact on the cruelties resulting from the bombings.  Instead of allowing that to drag me down, I look for what I can do.  Compassion can begin with me.  I may never touch the life of one of the injured from the violence in our world and that is okay.  I can show my support in small ways.  The things I choose to do can touch one life, who in turn may touch another with the same compassion.
I see it like having one single candle.  Alone, my candle cannot light the way very effectively.  Yet, when my small light, lights another and that one turns and lights others, together we do shine brightly.  Even if the other candle that I share my flame with does nothing, it hasn't taken anything from me.  I lose nothing in the sharing.  It is the small things that we do with great love and compassion that need to spread in this world of ours.













































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The Best Medicine

Happy girl!  Laughter bubbling up!  My heart feels full!  I was given a wonderful surprise today.  It has meant so much to me.  Spending time just being who I am.  Being with someone who also cares about me.  How could I be anything other than happy?
There is something so special and amazing in having these moments in time where joy just floods over me.  Often they come out of very ordinary things too.  Mickey and I don't have to be doing anything special.  I will see the smile on her face and my world lights up!  Hearing her laugh on the telephone while talking to someone, can set me to giggling.  I find so much joy in her happiness.
Watching a friend laugh so hard that they are nearly in tears over something I said makes me laugh right along with them.   It also often makes me keep saying things that makes the laughter keep rolling!
Laughter, the best medicine.  Oh what the emotion of happiness can do to change a person's outlook!  We have so much stress in our lives.  Happiness pushes those stressors away for awhile.  I treasure these times of happiness, so much.  Being able to laugh and simply enjoy being in the moment.  For me, it is the best medicine in the whole world.  I will take another dose, anytime!!

Writing

“Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly each day.”

This is a quote by William Allingham.  I love it!  I can relate to it so much.  As one who writes daily, I see it as very true some days.  I will sit here at the computer and wonder what in the world I am going to write about.  Many times, I simply just start writing what ever I happen to be thinking.  The lack of a specific goal, usually makes the words flow freely.
It has always confused me when someone says to me that they cannot write.  It makes me wonder why every one doesn't hear the same voice inside that I do.  Writing can be like sitting down and talking with someone.  Face to face it is very difficult for me to speak.  This voice I use to write with, is the same voice so many use to hold a conversation.  I have never seen it as *hard*.
Others have told me over the years that when I write, I should have someone in mind that I am writing to.  I can't say that I have ever done that very much.  I write because I love it.  I would write even if no one ever read it.  It is a part of me that I cannot imagine ever letting go of.
I write to work through emotions.  I write to share experiences.  I write for my pleasure.  Some days it feels like I write to keep myself sane.  I write to discover myself.  I even write to see just where my thoughts end up going!

Pride in pain

Take pride in your pain, you are stronger than those who have none.... Lois Lowry

Many times in this past year I have been told that I am very strong.  Repeatedly told that I am stronger than I think.  Those words coming from someone I care about and who I know cares about me, holds some weight for me.  I lean toward believing them and accepting it as truth.
But, what do they see that I don't?
Anyone who spends a significant amount of time around me will see that I am in physical pain.  It is difficult to hide for very long.  Depending on what I am doing, I can present myself as pain free and able bodied for a little while.   After awhile though, my body gives me away.  No matter how hard I try, pain breaks through and my movements give it away.  Is it that they see that I am in pain and that I try to pretend that it isn't there, that makes me strong in their eyes?  Is there strength in trying to be *normal*?
I am stubborn.  Even though I have limitations, I still try to do everything for myself.  Pushing myself hard, feels like a must for me.  More than once recently I have been ordered to sit down.   I have been told that I could go on the shopping trip but only if I agreed to be in my wheelchair so it wouldn't exhaust me.  It is difficult for me to ask for help and more difficult to accept it most days.  I want to be able to do things myself.  That is not always the best for me.  It doesn't stop me from trying.  Being the person who has to be watched over and protected just doesn't sit well with me most days.  Is watching me try anyway, the thing that makes others tell me that I am strong?  Is there strength in trying?
Recently, I fell.  My hip moved in a wrong way for just a split second.  My leg would no longer hold me up, and I went down.   Two people were there and it scared them both.  Mickey was one of them and she was able to grab a hold of me enough that I didn't land hard.  To top it off, my body did what it does in response to things like that sometimes.  The nerves go completely out of control and leave me with little to no control over what my leg will do.  It brings with it, the worst pain of all and a lot of embarrassment.  I want to be back up and on my own two feet as soon as possible.  Of course, no one else wants that for me right then.  Is it that others see the lack of fear in me to try again, that makes them say I am strong?  Is there strength in facing the fear head on?
I've only looked at the physical sensation of pain.  We all know that there is emotional pain as well that can hurt even more so.  Pain can be the thing that shows the true colors of an individual.  Most who are in pain do not see themselves as strong by any means.  I sure don't.  The quote is about having hope in the pain.  Being encouraged that you are strong enough to deal with it.

Creativity

Touch me with tenderness as you draw me into your circle of love.

 A foundation is laid anew.  Fragrant balm of healing flows freely.  Softly it rolls filling the crevices where only hurt and harm were known.  Timeless emotions reach from the roots of despair.  Strings of discord are snapped in two under the weight of tenderness.  The soul is nourished.  Life soars.

Chains Broken.  Shackles Removed.  Freedom Ahead!

Black is the night, an ebony sprinkled with stardust.  Points of inspiration flickering toward me.  Cool breeze, brushes curls from my face as I smile up at a sea of light.  My heart dances with lightness.  My voice whispers in nothingness.  So this is what freedom feels like!

Courage

Unconventional Paths

It seems that sometimes the path that I take is unconventional.  Others have found the choices that I make for myself, a little strange.  With most things that I choose for myself, I have stopped caring about the opinions of others outside of my inner circle.  I have enough confidence to believe in myself.  For the most part, I trust my intuition.
I have tried the conventional.  I spent about 3 years in therapy, discovering truths about myself and healing from my past.  Over the past year and a half or so, the past came up again.  So much about it seemed more intense.  I did not want to go see a therapist.  I know that talk therapy can work.  It did for me during a time when I really needed it.  This time though, I really struggled with what could I learn from therapy, how could it help me?  I did seek out a therapist and have a great relationship with her.
I also knew that it wasn't enough.  I needed something more.  I knew what I needed but I had no idea how to seek it out.  It all seemed like it was a dream that would never be a reality.  I felt stuck.  I felt like I would never be *okay*.  Heck, I felt strange for even wanting this, even when I knew deep down inside that it was exactly what I needed.  I did not know that something like therapeutic spanking existed.  I had no knowledge that Pro Disciplinarians existed.  What I was describing was a type of spanking therapy, I guess.  I was spanked in my personal life and had no reason to search the internet.  Needing someone who could interact with me coming from a more maternal side, set me on a very unconventional path.
This is how I ended up with Miss Jenn.  The time we have spent together and the sessions we have had, are changing my life.  Just like with Mickey, Jenn interacts with both the adult and child me. It isn't strange or weird.  At times, it is very intense and emotional.  At times, it is all laughter.  At times, it is just easy and comfortable.  All the time, it is helping.  It may be an unconventional path.  It is also my path and it is working for me.

After

I have wondered where to begin.  The session from a couple days ago is still very much affecting me.  Physically I am still sore and I am very bruised.  When called for, Miss Jenn can have a very heavy hand.  With me, it was called for.  It was needed and it was received.  She has been given the freedom to take things as far as she thinks is necessary.  I have total trust in her as does Mickey.  With the two of them, I do not have a safe word.  This certainly is not for everyone and I wouldn't recommend it either.  I do know that if I called *red* they would stop and check in with me.  They would listen to what I had to say and they would decide then, if things continued or not.  Discipline is not up to me.  I didn't sign up for this, to be in charge.  They expect me to talk to them.  They expect me to tell them if something is wrong.  I am expected to communicate.  And, I do.
I have been searching for a word or words to describe what I am feeling.  Pliable is not a feeling but it is the word that I keep coming back to.  Soft, mold-able, teachable, compliant....  I want to behave.  I want to do the things that I am suppose to.  The *want-to* is there.  I also want to please.  I want to obey.  I want to be the best that I can be.
The guilt is gone.  It just isn't there anymore.  There has been a releasing.  The magnitude of what I was feeling has dropped away from me.  Somehow, I feel cleansed, new.

Expecting the Worst

It is strange to realize that for a large part of my life growing up, those closest to me, expected the worst from me.  Likely, I gave them exactly what they expected.  I know that I wasn't encouraged to behave.  I wasn't praised.  They never came to any award ceremony when I actually did excel.  Finally, I stopped even telling them of any successes.  I did not give them art projects or any of the things that kids would do with their parents.  They didn't believe in me and I guess that I felt the same way in turn.
I learned to expect the worst from myself and from others.  I couldn't see the good in myself.  I never really looked for the good in other people either.  I was definitely trapped in negativity.  Basically, that is all I knew.  With so many things, I didn't even want to try.  Why bother when I already was sure it wouldn't end good anyway?
I know now that what we pour into our friendships and relationships is what we will be getting out of them.  I do believe that if we expect the worst, that is exactly what we are going to draw to us.  I want people around me that are going to expect the best from me.  That still takes into account that we all have bad days.  We cannot possibly always give at 100%.    We cannot always be at 100%.  We can though, expect the best from ourselves and be realistic about it.  Our best may change from day to day.  Stop expecting the worst.  Embrace the best.  Celebrate it.  Give it to yourself and to others.

Don't Stop Walking

At times things can feel hopeless.  I have felt that some things were too hard.  I have felt that I would never find the freedom that I was seeking.  One of the most important lessons for me, is to not stop trying.  There is a need to keep walking.  Needing to believe that good things are just down the road.  It is so easy to fall short of the goal.  It takes real courage to keep going.  Keep walking.

Healing & Closure

Today I was little.  I spent the day with Mommy and Daddie.  I was not told that this was going to happen.  It was planned without my knowledge.  The day was perfect.  Going out treasure hunting at different stores.  All of us found something too.  I even got taken out for ice cream!  Daddie dropped Mommy and me off at the house.  I got to color some while Mommy did dishes.  Then, well, things didn't go so great.  Mommy told me it was time for a nap.  After a day of playing and being silly and having fun, taking a nap is not what I wanted!  I wasn't a good girl at all.  I didn't like being told what to do and Mommy didn't like me not obeying her either. I got angry.  All of a sudden I just sort of blew up.  Before I knew it, I had hit her with my stuffed elephant!  My elephant is softer than even a pillow but that is not the point.

This was a re-enactment session of something that happened a long time ago.  Daddie Mickey and Miss Jenn, walked me through this masterfully.  For years, hitting my mother has tormented me on multiple levels.  In the past, I was the only one that was NOT in trouble.  The horror of seeing my mother spanked because of something I had done, as well as watching her punished because she just tried to discipline me, has been excruciating.  I can't describe the guilt the grown woman has felt over this incident.  Today, I experienced that guilt from the mindset of the little me.  That little me broke down and cried over and over again while over Mommy's knee.  The scolding that has been decades in coming, broke me.  The spanking has me still not wanting to sit down.  I am red and bruised and swollen and deserved every bit of it.  I will never ever forget it.  After *Mommy* got me calmed down and tears wiped away, she informed me that I had to tell Daddie too.  Daddie came home.  As a little girl in the past, things were so messed up back then that by the time my father came home that day, I couldn't wait to get my mother in trouble.  Not this time.  I cried again trying to tell *Daddie* what I did and that I was spanked.  Then, Daddie spanked me for it too!  I was told to go apologize to my Mommy.  I know I got the words out and then I sobbed.  I have never cried like that over something from my past.  I never cried as a little girl.  It all came flooding out of me, and that WAS the point.

This is something that the 3 of us had talked about for months.  The two of them had a very clear understanding of what had happened back then.  They both knew all too well what that memory was doing to me now, the impact on my life.  They knew the places where I was stuck.  We had talked about it many many times. We went over all the *what-ifs*  Then, I put it all in their hands.  I wanted no control.  I didn't want to know when the session might happen.  I didn't want any say over any part of what was going to take place.  The two of them honored that.  My biggest fear was that I might actually slap Miss Jenn.  This was talked out over and over and over.  I would have been devastated if I had actually hit her, or anyone.  I am not like that.
Today was about healing.  Today was about closure.  Today was about a new beginning.  Today was about stepping forward unhindered from the guilt.

 Thank you Daddie & Mommy (Mickey & Miss Jenn)

My Damn Mind

Gathering thoughts.  Sorting through them.  Redirecting.  Concentrating.  I sure don't understand how the brain works.  It has the ability to cause us to recall images, sounds, smells and sensations.  It stores and processes so much.  It also forgets.  Gets sidetracked.  My damn mind can be all over the place!
I can remember things that I would rather forget.  Forget things I wanted to remember.  A lot of the time it seems that I don't have any say in the matter either!  So, I leave myself *notes*.  My damn mind makes me leave notes about my notes!
I have whole conversations in my head, with myself.  Then, I go to tell Mickey something about what I was thinking.  I was the only participant in the conversation but, do you think I can remember what I said?  Of course not!  My damn mind takes a left turn down distraction lane and the whole conversation disappears!
Of course, that one is topped by the old stand-by of actually having a conversation with someone and my damn mind making me search for the word that is on the tip of my tongue.  The elbow may very well be connected to the arm bone, but I am positive that the tongue is in no way connected to the brain!  If it were, my damn mind would give me the dang word already!

Elephants

This is by far my favorite animal on the planet.  The largest land mammal.  One of the things that draw me to them is the fact that they feel and express emotion.  They share affection with one another.  They grieve.  They play and have fun.  They become angry.  They are protective.
One of the most touching and saddest videos I have ever seen of elephants was of two young elephants trying to say goodbye to their mother.  She was dead, sadly.  The youngest one would not leave her body.  It kept touching every inch of her.  The little guy was trying to get her to stand up, to respond in some way.  You could see the anguish and it was heart wrenching.
I have no idea how many videos and documentaries I have seen about elephants.  I never tire of them.  Everything about them just amazes me.  Watching the babies play and romp always amuses me.  Watching them pull down a tree with their trunk and then pick a single flower so delicately is astonishing.  There are thousands of muscles in their trunks.  The dexterity they can develop is just so cool.  Theirs is a Matriarch society and I love that as well!

Spanked

I was needing to be re-centered for sure.  Not for what *I* was thinking.  I was thinking that I needed it simply because I was all over the place.  I didn't think that anyone was upset with me.  I didn't think I had done anything wrong.  Well, I was wrong about that.

I made the mistake of saying that I was not a good submissive.  This actually is why I was spanked.

That negativity toward myself does not sit well with Daddie Mickey.  My Disciplinarian backed this up as well.  Telling me to stop thinking that I am not good enough.  I was given a very painful reminder that it is not okay to think this way.
I see that when I am struggling with different things and feel like I am all over the place, I am much harder on myself.  I do get caught in the trap of thinking bad about myself and my actions.  I wanted to be centered.  I wanted the spanking.  Until I was talked to and spanked, I didn't see what I had been doing.
What I thought was one thing, ended up being another.  I went to sleep with an extremely sore backside after that.  Not for one minute did I think that it was unfair.  I see the point.  Can't say that I enjoyed it at all.  It does though, make me now stop and think.  And, isn't that the point of discipline?

Alcoholism

The abuse of alcohol by others has affected my life in horrible ways.  I saw first hand how it could change the personality and mood of others.  In my experience, it was not in a good way.  Instead of becoming an alcoholic, I became afraid of what it might do to me.  I didn't even have my first drink until I was well into my adulthood.  I was not curious about it.  I already knew the horrors it could bring.  Every male that abused me had alcohol on their breath.
Everyone pretended there was no issue.  Even neighbors that would come out and gawk at night, went about their business the next day as though nothing had happened.  No one stepped in to help.  Police were called.  Whispers were spread from person to person.  But help?  Actual help?  Totally non-existent.
Going to Alanon or Alateen meant admitting there was a problem.  No one would admit it.  It stayed a nicely wrapped package that filled the house.  No one wanted it, no one would remove it and everyone pretended it just wasn't there.
Having friends over was the equivalent of playing russian roulette.  Never knew what would happen on that day and most likely it would end badly.  There was no way to count on anything.  Just because plans were made did not mean that they were carried out.  Usually they were not.  The reason was usually alcohol.  You learn to expect nothing and to hope for even less.

Submission

Maybe I am not a very good submissive or bottom.  It seems that when push comes to shove, I am going to do my own thing anyway.  I don't mean for it to be that way.  I have found myself just stopping doing things I am suppose to do.  I convince myself that it just doesn't matter.  I will tell myself that it is just a little thing anyway.  Who's going to know?
Well, *I know*.  That knowing, just doesn't feel very good.
I am not a doctor.  I do know which meds I can spread out without harming myself.  I can miss one dose of the weekly meds without serious harm.  That is not the point though, is it?  It is about how they are prescribed and how I have been told to take them.  All of them are helping my physical body to be it's best.
I am not a big fan of food.  I eat because I have to, not because I want to.  If I am dealing with something emotional, that part of me totally shuts off anyway.  I won't feel hunger.  Right now I eat because food is put in front of me.  I take a few bites anyway.  Then, later I eat because the clock tells me it is time and that I have to.
No, I am not a good submissive.  Not right now.  I am stumbling all over the place in trying to take care of myself in the right ways.

The Reset Button

There are times that I feel completely out of sorts.  Inside, I don't feel centered.  Focusing on anything becomes difficult.  Left too long like this my mood is affected as well.  That is when a spanking becomes like a reset button for me.
After a spanking the emotions then seem to fit into place.  Stress falls away.  I can think more clearly.  The air is cleared if there was anything that was marring it.  I am centered again.
I am fortunate that I have a partner who not only understands this need in me to be spanked, but happily delivers.  Sometimes, she knows before I do that what is really needed is a trip over her lap.
The physical, emotional and mental parts of me are all affected in a positive way. The reset button has been pushed and I am ready to face life more positively again.
The benefit to me can be enormous at times.  We haven't found anything else that works as well or has the same results.  Keep in mind that she loves to spank and paddle.  It is a win/win for us.
A spanking touches me on the deepest levels.  It breaks through the walls that have gone up.  During the spanking, all the energy that has gone toward keeping the walls up, or trying to be strong, shifts.  I don't have to be in control anymore.  I am released from the weight and can start anew.  The reset button has been pushed and I am ready to again tackle the things that I need to.

My Daddie

Yesterday I woke up to new coloring supplies.  New pencils and markers and oils.  I was so surprised.  Then today I woke up to a new coloring book as well!  It is all animals with fantastic designs making up each one!  Then, the little me was taken out to go see the movie Zootopia.  It was such a wonderful time, out with my Daddie.

I don't dare ever say I like something.  More times than not, I am gifted it.  If I say that I would like to have something, I usually have it that day.  I have learned to stay quiet.  I know it delights her to give me gifts.  In that respect I am spoiled.  Thankfully, I have enough sense to keep my mouth closed when she and I go out somewhere.  Every once in awhile she will catch me looking at something a little longer.  That's when I see that look on her face and I quickly tell her that just because I am looking closely does not mean that I want it.  She explained to me once that she gets these things for me because I really never ask.  She tells me that I do it for every one else, so she does it for me.  I put off my wants and even needs sometimes, to surprise someone else.  I love doing that!  Daddie has had to help me put the brakes on that sometimes.  How do I put the brakes on her?  It is mostly little things and they do tickle me.  It is just that ....eh, I don't know what it is, lol

My Daddie has a huge heart.  Not just toward me either.  She very genuinely cares about people.  She is so open and so warm.  Today she saved the life of an elderly woman.  As she was walking out to the parking lot, the older woman was coming toward her rubbing her arm like crazy.  Daddie asked her if she was alright.  The woman said her arm really hurt and Daddie saw that she was ashen.  Daddie got her back to her car and seated and then the woman's speech started slurring.  Long story short, Daddie got the ambulance there and could tell them when the stroke started, got a hold of the woman's family, when the elderly woman became combative, Daddie calmed her down.  The woman didn't want the men around her and wanted only my Daddie there.  Daddie is like that.  So many of us would have just walked past that woman.  Not my Daddie!  She doesn't know a stranger and is always willing to help.  She is not afraid of getting involved, especially if she senses a need.

I am a very fortunate and blessed woman and girl.  I love my Daddie with all that I am!

Breaking Point

It is okay to keep going through the pain and it is okay to let go before you break.
How many of us truly listen to what our bodies are telling us?
Whether it is physical or emotional, we do reach a breaking point.
It is okay to hurt all the way through.
It is also important to recognize when the breaking point is near.

These are the thoughts that have been running through my head.  I have/had taken a break from intense emotional work.  I recognized that I was too near my breaking point.  Where that place is for me, changes.  As I learn, understand and heal, my ability to push forward increases.  I find that I can do more, tolerate more and push a little further each time.
Learning that I could continue even when it hurt, was important for me.  Sometimes the emotional pain feels overwhelming.  There are times that it feels like there is no way I can go on.  It has reached points where I no longer wished to be alive.
An understanding that I have a breaking point was and is extremely important.  Never again do I want to be in that place where I contemplate suicide.  I know all too well the impact of suicide on those left behind.  I also know the ugliness of feeling that the world would be a better place without me in it.  I know the pain of wanting everything to just end.  Catching those signals before they become out of control is one way of stopping myself before I reach the breaking point.
Stopping before a breaking point is not a failure.  It is not the end of the road.  For me it is like taking a deep long breath.  It is allowing my body to rest, recover and heal before continuing.  I am sure that athletes can relate to this.  If they push to the breaking point they run the risk of serious injury that takes them out of the game for awhile.  There is still pain.  It is okay to hurt from the hard work.  It is okay to step back before you break.  Step back, breathe and regroup.

Friend

A friend is a long-standing witness to my life.

It is someone who is with me by choice.  Someone who sees me for who I am and not who they want me to be.  Someone who knows I am not perfect and doesn't care.  Someone who will tell me the truth.  It is someone that I share my victories and sorrows with.  Someone that listens and gets heard.  Someone I can do a three-legged race with when either of us can't quite stand alone.  It is someone who hears me when I say absolutely nothing.  Someone that I share secrets with and we each know they will be safe.  Someone who's opinion I value.  Someone who can tell me I am wrong and not fear that I will turn away.  It is someone I can laugh and cry with.  Someone who I am safe with when I am feeling vulnerable.
A friend is someone that I look for the best in.  Someone who I would do anything I could, to help.  Someone who knows I won't judge.  Someone who I encourage.  Someone I value.  Someone who's feelings matter to me.  Someone who I know isn't perfect and it doesn't matter.  It is someone who can say to me that they have had a freaking-ass hard day and knows I will listen.  Someone who can tell me things in confidence and know they are safe.  Someone who makes mistakes.  Someone I enjoy spending time with.  Someone who reminds me that I am human.

Words

SPANK  BOTTOM  BARE DISCIPLINE STRIKE  SMACK  ASS  SWITCH  SWAT  TAN  BLISTER  PADDLE  HAIRBRUSH  HIT WHIP  CROP  TAWSE  FLOGGER  WOODEN-SPOON  RULER  OTK  SLAP  SLIPPER  SPANKING  BACKSIDE  OUCH  CANE  BELT  STRAP   STING  HAND  PUNISHMENT  CONSEQUENCE  PADDLING  CORRECT  6oftheBEST  CHEEKS  BUNS  STRIPES  RED  OLD-FASHIONED  WELTS  REAR  RUMP  SITSPOT  BURNING  BEAT  THRASH  OVERDUE  BIRCH  BUTT  THWACK  THUD  STING  LESSON  CORPORAL  ADMONISH  ADMINISTER  APPLY  BRUISE  MARKS  MARTINET  GUIDE  SPATULA  REDDEN  WAIL  SORE  SWOLLEN TAIL-END  BLACK&BLUE  PURPLE    PULL-DOWN  PANTS PANTIES BOXERS TIGHTIE-WHITIES   KNEE  LAP  STROP  BRUSH  HEAT HOT BLAZE  WHUP  BRIEFS  UNDERWEAR  THONG  SKIRT  YARDSTICK  PAINT-STICK  BATH-BRUSH   BEND-OVER  OW!  ------- LOVE & FUN

This is me with Miss Jenn, my Disciplinarian.

2016

Mickey is the one behind the camera.

Fatigue

All of us know what being tired feels like.  One of the physical things that I struggle with is having fibromyalgia.  I also have a couple of friends who share this diagnosis with me, as well as chronic fatigue syndrome. In the beginning of my journey with illness and physical disorders, I did not understand what was happening to me.  I could not figure out where all the pain and pure exhaustion was coming from.  Neither could the doctors back then.  Come to find out, I have 6 auto-immune disorders.  Each come with their own version of my body attacking itself or trying to fix what is not broken within me.
The thing about Fibro, and these other *disorders* is that mostly they are invisible to others.  There are no cures.  The symptoms can be unrelenting and unpredictable.  Before the diagnosis of fibro, I was experiencing bone tiring exhaustion.  A fatigue that drained every ounce of strength.  Unless you have known it, I don't think any words can do it justice.  It is a tiredness that even sleep doesn't make go away. Add to that, insomnia and pain (which are also draining) and you have a person that just the thought of having to get up to go use the bathroom can be overwhelming because all strength is gone.  A person on the outside looking in, far too often sees us as lazy, unsociable, self centered, etc.  Far too many don't understand that it is not that we don't want to, it is that we can't!
When we look healthy to family and friends, it is often a double whammy.   They don't understand unless they too have educated themselves, or have experienced it.  When we try to take care of ourselves and preserve energy we often are faced with guilt because we carefully have to choose and plan what we will and won't do.  Again, not because we don't want to do it all, but because we seriously cannot.
Those with fatigue that is chronic, still do try and do it all themselves.  We even tell ourselves that we *should* be able to do it all.  We *should* be able to help ourselves.  For me it is so hard to reach out for help or even to accept help.  I live with someone who does understand that I have the *want-to*, I just don't have the energy.  I still struggle with saying that I need help getting dressed or that I would like to wear a certain blouse but it is in the laundry.  I don't have the energy or the strength to go do a load of laundry myself and although I know she wouldn't mind, I still rarely ask.  That is the nature of fatigue in the life of a strong willed person.  Saying yes, to help, is never easy.  For me it feels like a defeat a lot of the time.  It can be humbling to say the least.
The medical field has not caught up with helping us deal with these symptoms and syndromes.  Hopefully our family and friends will step up and at least take the time to try and understand and maybe just maybe, offer a helping hand.

Choice & Consequence

                  With the freedom of choice, comes the responsibility of consequences.


We all have the ability to impact the lives of those around us by our choices.  The impact obviously can be positive or negative.  Sometimes we are not even aware of the impact.  I don't think many of us think too much over the choices we make.  Choices are made on the fly, daily.
It is easy to see how the choice of a person who has had too much to drink and chooses to drive, causing an accident and injury, has an impact.  It impacts the person and all involved, and circles out from there.  Something like that can have an impact for generations.
Each of us have the freedom of choice.  Making no choice, is still a choice.
I am in a domestic discipline relationship.  I live by a set of rules and guidelines that are enforced by two people.  Although these rules/boundaries are around me, I still choose whether or not to follow them.  I have the freedom to choose.  With that freedom, I also have the responsibility of consequences.  They may be the ones that dish out the discipline and correction, but I am the one that makes the decision on whether or not that needs to happen.  Simply by my choices.  Choice has consequences.  There are no threats hanging over me.  There is no fear in this.  I am treated with love and respect at all times.  And, I am disciplined when I make the wrong choice for myself.
What if all choices had no consequences?  Imagine how much chaos there would be.  I am sure many would be calling foul.  Imagine the person who saved for months to purchase a television and the person who went out and stole one.  Each came home with a t.v.  They each choose how to get one for themselves.  If there wasn't consequences, we would not see anything wrong in the two different methods.  People could just go out and take whatever they wanted.
I believe we learn through choice and consequence.  It isn't the only way, but it is one way.  Right now, I am experiencing things that I never have before.  A lot of the generation growing up right now are not experiencing it either and it shows.  Many are totally lacking the experience of consequences for their actions and choices.  My choices and theirs have always had consequences but were never enforced.  Now, I am experiencing things that so many people have taken for granted in their lives.  It might seem strange to outsiders.  What I know is that it is working for me.  It has given me a safe place to be.

Trust Yourself

A phrase ringing through my head - Trust yourself to feel everything, you can handle it.

I have a children's coloring book about feelings.  While doing age play at *Mom's* house I was asked to choose one of the pictures that described how I was feeling and color it.  I really didn't want to.  I tried to go somewhere else, but she was pretty insistent.  Looking through the book, I finally decided on bashful and shy.  When I read it, I knew that is what I was really feeling.  I started coloring while she fixed dinner.  My little head went every where.  I felt the tears starting to come to the surface.  That is a seriously dangerous place especially for the little me.  I stopped coloring and drew an eye at the bottom of the page.  I know that if I draw an eye, it means that the tears are close and threatening.  If I can draw the eye, maybe I can keep the tears inside it.  It is another form of controlling for me.
But, what wasn't I trusting myself to feel?  I know it was not about the bashfulness.  The one who is Mom, reaches right past that.  She interacts with me regardless.  She came and laid on the floor beside me and commented on my picture and the drawing.  I wanted to tell her, but I knew I would cry.  Somehow the little me found the courage to ask if I could lay beside her.  I still couldn't tell her.  And the tears came anyway.  What I was feeling was fear, specifically the fear of rejection.  From that little head space, I wanted to open up and embrace and accept.  I was afraid to trust her.  Afraid that it would be like the past.  So afraid to believe that it was real.  Snuggled together for a few minutes, the wall came down, some of the pain washed away right along with the fear.  She didn't make a big deal over the tears, she let them, and me, exist in the moment.
Trust yourself to feel everything.  I know that some things feel so horrible, intense and hurt like hell.  I know too that even when it feels like I can't handle it, when emotion is so strong it feels like 100 pounds is sitting on my chest, I can handle it.  It may be in baby steps and that is okay.
Trust yourself to feel everything - you can handle it.

The Mom in my Life

  There is a line between what is play and acting and what is healing, therapeutic and emotional.                                                            And, those lines can blur.

I was rejected, neglected and victimized as a child.  I have been going through an extremely hard time recently.  The little me is fragile and fearful and healing.  She spent tonight in the arms of the one she now recognizes as *Mom*  The gift of simply laying with her arm over me, brought the little me to tears.  (It has my eyes watering now.)  To know from a maternal figure, that I am completely safe, wanted, accepted - breaks the ice around my heart.  It lets me know that I can keep holding on.  It lets me know that I am not alone. It brings healing where healing is so needed.  She, the one who is Mom, will read this and likely have tears in her eyes as well.  The little me is her little girl too.  A relationship like this is not something that one person can distance themself from. When it is in the realm of healing there is a bonding of two hearts.  It IS emotional.  The little heart in me breaks open to receive from her and to give to her.  Mom's heart breaks from the horrors visited on a little girl.  She ends up seeing the manifestation of the impact of severe abuse and seeing the impact of care and love poured into it's place.  Together we play.  She is Mom and I am 7.  She gets to see first hand what love and discipline can do when poured into a broken heart.  She is a warm, caring woman who has been willing to step into my life when it is needed most, and make a difference.
 See, I have all of this with my Daddie.  Daddie Mickey blankets me in so much love.  She holds me when I am falling apart.  She holds me when I have let go and feel like I can't even make it through one more minute.  She knows the difference between her lover, her girl, and her little.  She understands when I don't have anything left to give.  I don't know how she does it, but she can direct me right into that littler mindset and take that little me into her lap when it is needed most.  Daddie also saw the need in the little me to spend time with and have a relationship with a *Mom*.  How blessed am I that even Daddie went looking for the *right* woman?  My Daddie is the most wonderful beautiful person I have ever known in my life.  I have never known anyone with so much capacity for love.  Daddie Mickey is female.  She also is Daddy, through and through.
It was much easier for the little me to open up to and accept a daddy figure and then embrace her totally as parent.  With the mom in my life it is different.  I have not known anything but rejection and cruelty with any type of maternal figure or authority figure.  I am responding with shyness and am tentative.  I am testing where the boundaries are and more importantly, being shown where they are.  Being shown that I can trust.  How does one say thank you for a gift like this?

The Paddle in Her Hand

Powerful image, for sure.  I am sure that it conjures up quite a lot of different images for people.  Is *She* Seated, Standing?  What does the paddle look like?  Is it Wooden? Leather? Rubber? Lexan?   Is it solid?  Does it have holes?  Is it big, small?  How hard is it going to be swung?  Is it your bottom that it is going to hit?  Do you know what it feels like already?
Sometimes the paddle in her hand is a little intimidating to me.  Especially if it is there and she is scolding me.  Trying to focus on the actual words spoken, which usually require an answer AND trying to forget the paddle that is often smacking against her hand.  When it is for discipline, I don't think there is a one of us that can say that we don't feel a little dread.  For me, I don't usually know if it is going to be an all out spanking with the paddle or swats.  If she is seated, I am in a ton of trouble for sure.  I know that I will be over her knee and will be paddled for an undetermined amount of time for sure.  *That* leaves me no sort of end point to look toward.  It is going to be done, when she says it is done.  If she is standing, sometimes there is a little more hope.  Rarely do I have the privilege of knowing how many swats I will be given.  I do know that if she swings hard enough to send me flying, it will be over! LOL.  She also knows the difference between the reaction being the actual stroke of the paddle and me being dramatic.  How fair is that??
The two that discipline me, do not let me get away with anything any more.  I am given one warning to stop or change my behavior.  There is not a second one.  Strange thing is that I have never felt more safe and more secure in my life.  I do press at the boundaries and fuss at the rules.  But ya know what?  I like the fact that the paddle is in her hand.

I am Nothing

I don't need anyone else to tell me that I am nothing.  I do a pretty good job of saying that to myself on a regular basis.  Bashing myself.  Going as far as kicking myself when I am down.  Becoming mean and hurtful and meaning every word of it when I speak it to myself.
I am nothing, echoes through my thoughts on a regular basis. The meaning so strong that it is tattooed on my soul.  The voice of the original speaker of the words became unrecognizable long ago.
I am nothing, mean nothing, worth nothing...The heavy brass links of every letter from every word, tightly wrapped around my neck.  The weight is suffocating.
Get your disgusting worthless ass out of my sight!  The words of my parent to me as she pulled my sister across her lap to spank her.  I had convinced my sister to sled down the small hill at the side of our house.  Our snow covered path ended in the middle of the street.  No one was suppose to sled there.  I wanted to because it was faster.  I got her to do it with me.  She got in trouble.  I got called names and sent away. Dismissed.  Rejected.  I was the bad influence.  I was nothing.
I was also 7 years old.

Wandering Thoughts

Wondering what is next... where will this exercise in writing take me?  Usually there is something, a phrase, quote, feeling, picture.  Right now I got nothing, lol.  So I am simply writing and wondering where I will end up.  Letting thoughts just flow.  I can't recall a time where I have stared at a page, getting ready to write and not had a single thought.  There are always thoughts.  When I feel *stuck* about writing, it is more that I just don't see a specific direction.  Like right now.

The past few days have been extremely emotional.  Having none of that at this moment feels great.  It is nice to know that the smile on my face is not forced.  Nothing has magically resolved itself and that is okay.  Having these places of rest and peace are very welcomed. 

 Feeling more *normal*.  Whatever normal is.  My normal is not going to be the normal for someone else.  I have said many times that normal is simply a setting on the dryer.  Too often there is a comparison to someone else's normal and it leaves me feeling lacking.  Whatever normal is, I often feel like I don't fit into it.  I needed to find an understanding that my normal is just fine for me.  There is nothing about it that harms any one else.  It doesn't make me unique.  It just makes me, me.

Choosing Strength

  Had a discussion earlier where Mickey asked me to please not sabotage myself.  She acknowledged that I am having a hard time right now.  She even acknowledged all my feelings.  She has never said that I shouldn't feel a  certain way.  She has pointed out to me some reasons why my feelings might not exactly be based on the actual reality of the situation.  Giving me examples of what she has seen.
Yesterday was not the best of days.  The accumulation of a few different things all came together bringing me to a point where I simply quit. Grabbing a hold of something I think I can control, and just taking over.
After I had calmed down last night and saw what I had written, I thought that it was ok, that I would feel differently today.  I don't.  Trying to reach for those boot straps and pull myself back up.  I can't.  What happened to my strength?  It's gone.
This is one of those moments when I know I am the one in control.  I have to decide what steps to take.  Make a choice that makes sense to me and is not harmful.  It is one of those times when I need to choose strength, even when I feel weak.
Choosing strength can be telling myself that I am doing nothing today.  It can be, setting everything aside and focusing elsewhere.  Choosing strength can be taking a break.  Choosing strength doesn't mean that I am not afraid, doesn't even mean I am strong.  It means acknowledging that right now is so hard.

Which way is Up?

I haven't smoked pot in a year until last night.  It is legal here.  The pain in my body grew uncontrollable.  Physical pain that stays and grows in intensity can leave a person wondering, *which way is up?*  This is not the *nice* pain that can flood a person with endorphins. No, this is the sort that feels like an all out assault on the body.
Physical pain and emotional pain are connected... well, can be.  The emotions manifesting themselves physically.  Feeling stressed and all the muscles tense, the same with anxiety and fear.  When these get all twisted up inside me while I am trying to fight and relieve the pain, I am often left wondering which way is up.  I dont get a break from physical pain.  What I do get is different degrees of intensity.  I feel fortunate that the over the top, I want to pull my hair out and scream pain rarely happens more than once a week.  When physical pain rises, it can push itself right to the front of everything and it is all I see.  At that point nothing is seen except through pain-filled glasses.  Those points for me are crazy!  Like that, I am trying not to snap at anyone.  I am trying to hold myself together and convince myself that eventually one of the methods I am using to bring pain levels down is gonna work.  I am trying not to be grumpy with my dogs who want to be on my lap, in my chair, every step of these little dogs bringing more pain.  Ok, so sometimes I am resisting the urge to toss one of them from my chair.  (I have 4 chihuahuas and I would never hurt them) They don't know that juggling for their normal spot, laying against me, is hurting me.
Chronic pain is frustrating.  For those of us with *invisible* diseases and disorders we often don't know the cause of the pain and have no way of controlling it.  We don't know when the symptom of pain is going to hit.  There is no formula to show us how bad it is going to be this time, how high the levels might go or how long they will stay so high.  It can feel hopeless.  We can't point to a certain thing that brought on the pain.  And we know that getting through this episode is unlikely to be the last.  It sure isn't like surgery where they go in take care of the problem and there is the pain with recovery, that does have an end.  It *feels* hopeless at times, but it is not hopeless.  It isn't a curse.  I wouldn't call it a blessing either.  It is a part of our lives that can make us emotional, grumpy and very much fatigued. It is ok to be there and not know which way is up.  It is not okay to be there and be an asshole.  Pain is not an excuse to lash out at others.  We can feel out of control and not become out of control.
In the midst of a pain flare-up, it is best not to be making too many decisions. Not knowing which way is up, because it is all colored by pain, is definitely going to have an effect on decision making.  At least it does for me.  Others have said to me, *at least it is not like you have cancer and might die from it.*  They might be true, in part.  They judge what they can see.  Especially those who are asking me what's wrong with me when I am in my wheelchair.  They see a healthy woman.  They may even see a woman in pain.  But, to say that at least...blah, blah, blah... is so inconsiderate.  Only those the absolute closest to me know the whole story of what my body is doing and how it effects the quality and span of my life.
 The person you know that has chronic pain, keep in mind that you might not know the entire story or history going on there. We as the friends, siblings, co-workers, of someone living with chronic pain need to know that sometimes, the grip of pain is so tight that the person does not know which way is up right then.  The best way to help is just love them through it.  Be kind, try to understand and don't be a doormat.  When I am cranky because of pain, I am grateful that those around me understand the source and are willing to show me which way is up.  Mickey will say to me something like...* I think that might be the pain talking* or even, *I understand that you are in pain but that is not an excuse to act like that*

Coloring

All of my life I have been drawn to the arts.  Working with my hands and creating things brought me great joy.  One of the things I never stopped doing, is coloring.  It is a stress reliever and very calming for me.  It actually doesn't matter if I am big or little.  Working at coloring an intricate pattern in a coloring book meant for adults, focuses my brain on that task.
In the past three years, adult coloring has grown by leaps and bounds.  It is definitely not just crayons and cartoon like coloring books anymore.  There is a growing community and a wealth of new books meant for adults who want to color.  There are hundreds of free samples of these coloring pages online as well.  They are ready to download and to be colored with any medium one chooses to use.
Stress relief is important for all of us.  Find that thing that works for you.

The Truth!

Picture thanks to an adult coloring group that I am a member of.

Feet of Clay

Originally, when I thought of this, I thought I would write from the artists perspective about working with clay.  The clay is punched, cleansed, made as pure as possible and leaving no air that will cause holes, etc.  Only after that process, which takes a lot of work, is a creation started.  I have worked with raw clay and it brought a lot of satisfaction when I finally got what I was working with to the point of being able to start forming my piece.  It is hard freaking work!  There is a lesson in that.

Instead though, I realized that the term is going through my head for a different reason.  It is about having feet of clay.  At times feeling so stuck that I can't move.  Sometimes, knowing I must move and I don't want to.  There is a sense of dread in some of that.  Dragging my feet because I do not want to do what is in front of me to do.  It doesn't matter if it is facing a punishment, facing a trauma truthfully, or taking a bite from a sandwich when I don't want to eat.... they become *have-to's* and I develop feet of clay.

Worst Day Ever?

It is important to read this from top to bottom, THEN read it from the bottom to the top.

!!AMAZING!!

The Belt and Sting

If there is one implement that I *fear* it is the belt.  I have no basis for this fear.  A belt has never been used on me.  I have never even slapped one across my own hand.  Yet, when I think about different implements, this is the one that brings dread.  There is something inside me that sort of worries over it.
Wooden implements are used on me the most.  I am accustomed to them.  I know what to expect.  I have a healthy respect for Daddie Mickey's huge wooden spoon that is so big, the spoon part cups and covers one cheek!  The hairbrush in Miss Jenn's hands gets the same respect..  I don't exactly *like* either one.  I do know what to expect though.  They know they will get my attention and get the message across to me.  *If*, there is a message.
If it is a fast sting, *that*, can drop me to my knees in an instant.  I think that is some of my fear with the belt.  I have turned around and grabbed a tawse out of the hand of a Dominant after just one stroke.  I let them know that there would not be a second.  Not a great thing for a submissive to do.  I just knew that the sting was so intense from that one stroke that I would lose my composure and not be able to continue in the scene.  (Some learned to bind me after that, lol!)
Even with a good warm up, there is something about implements that are meant to sting that I have a love/hate relationship with.  When the sting floods me, I have been known to also have a flood of bad words fly out of my mouth.  Not good for a girl who is not allowed to use curse words, ever.  (yeah, I have used a couple of those not so good words throughout this blog but haven't been told I was in trouble for it.  Even, hell and damn are not allowed, how lame is that?)
How come, when in the process of being spanked and naughty words come out of the mouth because it HURTS, the Spanker responds by spanking harder and faster?  I am not exactly sure how that is suppose to stop the flow of forbidden words.  Well, except that it usually does take my breath away and I am not exactly capable of saying anything then, lol.  I know that some Dominants and Disciplinarians will stop the spanking and wash your mouth out with soap.  I have been made to watch a mouth soaping and been told to be sure to watch my words or I would get the same treatment.  I *think* she was kidding, but I am not sure.
Back to the belt.... I know that for some bottoms the whole process of having the belt taken off, folded in half or wrapped around a hand, is very important.  It is part of the ritual that they want or need.  The sound of the strike is so completely different from a wooden paddle.  I understand that.  I get it. Some things are just kinda hard-wired in our brains.  For me, just the threat of a belt being used makes me think twice...three...four times!
I do pretty well with staying within the boundaries around me.  When I was threatened with a belt recently, for whining or acting like a brat, it was MORE than enough to convince me to not whine or be bratty.  I think that if a belt or strap were hanging on the wall instead of a paddle, I would be the best behaved girl in Washington.
What implement makes you go weak in the knees (and not in a good way) when you think about it being used on you?
For those of you who do the spanking, what are YOU thinking when you use an implement that you know we just can't stand?
Add comments please... I really am interested in hearing your thoughts.

Being Triggered

Honestly, I hadn't thought about this incident in a long time.  Today it came up and slapped me in the face.  Instant tears were running down my cheeks.  There was no way to hold them back.  All the pain of loss and remembering completely took me over.  My partner was with me.  We were simply watching a television show together.  She saw the same image I did, saw me and knew exactly what had happened to me.  The television was shut off and she got in my face, telling me I was okay, that she understood, that she saw the tears and they were ok too.  I could not speak.  She told me that she knew I had loved this other person.  She held me, she helped me up and swatted my backside.  Might sound crazy to someone else, but she was breaking through the flashback and bringing me back to her.  I am glad that she did.  Staying in that pain would not have resulted in a good outcome.
When I started this journey of healing, I was in pretty bad shape.  I didn't understand what was happening to me.  I couldn't think straight.  Fear and anxiety hit the roof and I was not functioning well at all.  Friends were finding me literally under the dining room table curled up into a ball and fighting them if they tried to get me out of there.  I thought I was going insane.  For me, I couldn't think of any other reason that this was happening to me.  I would double over in physical pain or curl up on the sofa.  When I could speak again, all I could say is that it felt like someone just raped me.  Every ounce of me hurt.
See, I have PTSD.  My mind protected me while all the abuse was happening.  When I was in a safer place emotionally and physically, my entire body decided that it was time to deal with the traumas.  Very early on, I met a woman named Ruth.  She was at least 10 years older.  She also had been dealing with almost identical issues for much longer.  Over the next year we became best friends.  We both faced suicidal thoughts frequently.  That made us make a suicide pact.  If we couldn't keep ourselves alive for us, then we would know that if we went through with it, we would also be killing our best friend.  If one of us killed ourselves, the other one would follow within 48 hours.  It actually became a strong deterrent.  I didn't want to be blamed for my best friend's death.  I looked up to her at times.  She was older, stronger and in the lowest of lows we encouraged one another to keep fighting.
I am not strong enough right now to tell much more about Ruth's story or mine.  Ruth did not make it.  She committed suicide.  My therapist at the time, knew of our pact.  When she heard about Ruth's death, she immediately put me in the hospital.  If nothing else, I AM a woman of my word.  Those who knew me, knew that I would follow through.
The picture on the television today was of a woman sitting on a bed and dumping a bottle of pills in her hand to end her life.  It sent my mind and emotions straight back to the moment when I was told that Ruth was dead.  She also had taken all the meds that she had.
Being triggered, is not pleasant at all.  Feeling the original pain all over again doesn't lessen when it is brought up like that.  In that moment, for me, I had just been told that Ruth killed herself.  And yes, our pact slapped me in the face.  I am alive.  I am still fighting.  I am still living and breathing and hurting and growing.  AND, I miss my friend.

Don't Run

Found this and just could not resist!!  Sometimes we wish it was this easy!

Bits and Pieces

As I am pulled over her lap a groan escapes through my lips.  My head already knows what my bottom doesn't....yet.  This is not going to be pleasant.  I don't know why I did it.  I can't even tell her what I was thinking.  It is not that I won't tell, which I am sure she is thinking right now, I truly don't know.  My entire body tenses as she reaches for the wooden paddle that sits on her bedside table.  I try to slow my breathing.  I do everything in my power to will my body to relax.  Tensing up is only going to make it hurt more.  She pulls my pajama bottoms down exposing her intended target.  This is not unusual.  Rarely does she start anywhere but on bare skin.  She wastes no time and brings that paddle down across one cheek.  Instantly I am clinging to the bed sheet with both fists. The sting assaults my awareness ferociously .  My body goes completely stiff before the second smack of the paddle falls on the other cheek.  I am caught in her capable grip.  I cannot escape!  This is not for fun.  This is not a good girl spanking.  This is discipline.  This is a reminder of what will happen if there is a *next* time.
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Sooo, we are driving down the freeway.  Just chatting and laughing with one another.  Out of the blue, she slows the car and pulls off to the side.  I ask her if everything is okay.  She replied, yes.  Then, she waited for a couple of cars to go by and got out of the car.  I was so confused.  If everything is okay, then why are we pulled off the side of the highway?  Why did she get out of the car?  She walked around the back of the car and over to my side.  Opening the door, she helped me get out of the car.  What in the heck was she doing?  All of my questions went unanswered.  She took my hand and started leading me down a small embankment. I was protesting at this point.  She shushed me and kept leading me down into the trees and tall grasses.  She stopped, looked around and back up to the road.  *This is a good spot*, she said to me.  A good spot for what, I asked?  She said, *For this!*.   Then she proceeded to undo my jeans and pulled them and panties down to my knees!  She held onto me as she bent me over slightly and spanked me with her hand over and over!  My eyes are darting back up the embankment, seeing the passing cars.  If anyone looked, there was no doubt they would see me being spanked.  The flush of embarrassment colored my face quickly as she colored my backside totally red.  She was actually laughing as she slapped my bottom over and over!  I am trying not to yell *Ow*!  There is no one around and I am worried about being heard?  Seems I would have worried more about being pretty naked from the waist down and being spanked!  When she stopped and pulled everything back up where it was suppose to be, the grin on her face was huge.  I asked her what in the heck that was all about.  She replied to me, that it simply was all about the fact that she can!
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Hey U.G.L.Y.

That's right... Hey UGLY!

Uniquely  Gifted  Lovable  You!

This is not an original of mine.  In fact it is an actual anti-bullying organization.  It caught my attention for a few different reasons.  Right now the best reason, to me, is that it takes a word filled with a lot of negativity and turns the meaning around.
I know it is not that simple.  See a cute phrase of an *ugly* word and suddenly the meaning totally changes for you.  When I hear the word ugly, I can get transported right back to a place that just is not very good.  Heck, I still look in the mirror at times and call myself ugly.  Those mean words we use on ourselves and to others can be so hurtful.  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.  We may have sang that as a kid, but far too often it was not true.  Probably most of us can say that we were bullied, picked on, called names, etc.  Children of every generation have done it.  Bones heal and bruises fade, but the strikes from words that bruise and break the soul, leave wounds others can't see.
The road to healing those wounds to the soul is paved with compassion and love.  The salve of praise, truth and positive feed back needs to be applied generously.

                                         We are UGLY - uniquely gifted lovable you(s).