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.