“Every time I find the meaning of life, they change it”

I was just thinking about how quickly it happened.

On November 25th I was still quite happily entrenched in being a slave, being controlled, being.. me. Had anyone even suggested that I wasn’t perfectly content I’d have laughed in their face.

On November 26th I felt like I was being smothered in a wet blanket and I threw it off with rather shocking ease.

I’m thinking that internal enslavement, the brainwashing, the inability to leave, the destroying and recreating – it’s all smoke and mirrors. It feels real and convincing right up until the very second you don’t want it anymore. And then all of that careful conditioning? Nothing but an illusion, only workable because you believed in it.

Now I feel like I was duped. Or something. Not by Master**, not even really by myself. Maybe not by any one person so much as by the elusive “community”. The ideal that it presents. How easily one is led to believe in the illusion.

Like all those infomercials about weight loss pills.

Just take this pill and you’ll be model-beautiful in just 6 easy weeks! So you sign up for 3 easy payments of $29.99 and you take your pills faithfully, like a good little bee. Somebody says to you, hey, yanno if you wouldn’t eat a dozen Krispie Kreams for breakfast, you might lose weight! and you shake your head and hold up your magic pills. Someone else suggests moving your fat ass off the couch and getting a bit of exercise but you confidently wave your pill bottle in their face. You point at the infomercial which doesn’t even suggest diet and exercise. You pop a pill and prop up your feet and wait for the results that you were led to believe you’d get.

And 6 weeks later you’ve gained 5lbs. You were duped. By stupidity or blindness or laziness or just because you wanted it so bad. 

How damn often we, a collective community “we”, through prose and gifted writing, through cheesy poetry and heated debates, through an unwillingness to show a crack in the facade, we create beauty and bliss. We create a Utopia that doesn’t fucking exist.

Where is the Dystopia version of M/s? Where are the ones facing what happens when “just shut up and do it” isn’t applicable? What happens when your individual needs, one neither more right nor wrong than the other, clash so hard and so strong?

Why, gee, I think I have it right here!

I have a really strong urge to hide. Go figure, right? No wonder you are never presented with the end of Utopia. Those people don’t splatter it all over the place. They gather up what’s left of their pride and get the fuck out of dodge.

I really think there is something on the other side of this though. It may be an extremely ugly road to pass but I don’t think I’m at the end of it by any means. I think what we had was a carefully crafted illusion and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. I think there was a lot of pressure to maintain that ideal.

But I think what we WILL have won’t be. Because now, there’s nothing to save face over. Does that make sense?

~~*~~

It’s been an interesting few days around here, as I’m sure you can imagine. There is SO MUCH to figure out; the logistics of this are mindboggling. And so much, still, is out of my control, and out of his. The economy, uncertainty of the real estate market, employment viability, there are contracts signed, and not mythical M/s ones, but real ones, legal ones, ones that actually honestly and for real can’t be broken without dire consequences.

And in the middle of it, the two of us sit. Unsure and tentative. Both hurting, both wanting, and both wounded. Feeling too vulnerable to make a move.

We love each other though, you know? I mean, it’s undeniable. I can’t stop my hand from snaking over to his when we’re in the car. He can’t not reach out for me when he passes me in the hall. We tried sleeping apart and neither of us slept for shit. Now we spoon and we cuddle, and we sleep well, but our hands stop just short of touching where it’s suddenly private.

And isn’t that a doorknob to choke on.

We’ve talked a couple of times about having sex. Quiet little whispers in the dark. Do you want to? Do YOU? I do, but do you? I do – but I’m scared.

And I am. I don’t know how to do it without…. I don’t know. Without the power exchange, without being the submissive partner. And I think he’s unsure, too, of what position to take. Too dominant, too forceful and will it scare me, push me away? Too far the other way and it’ll fall flat, spoil it, make it even harder to do it again.

I’m very much aware that we’re making this far more difficult than it should be. Why shouldn’t we have sex, make love, or even fuck? We’re married, we’re not *quitting* each other or moving on to different relationships. We’re not divorcing. We still want each other.

The other morning, he sat up on the side of the bed and said, “I almost took you this morning.” and my heart thumped. His voice so quiet, so… sad.

“Why didn’t you?” 

“It’s not my place anymore.”

I said nothing.

Navigating these waters is difficult. In some moments I’m almost giddy with power, and other moments, like each time I walk into the bathroom, I have a pang of longing that reaches my toes. I catch myself asking for permission for things, tripping over words and flushing with embarrassment just as often as he’s stumbled over issuing orders, or issued it, shook his head and then just gotten  up to do it himself. Or added on a “please, if you wouldn’t mind, when you have time, would you do this for me, cu- I mean, Tess.”

It’s sad and it’s painful yet it’s funny, when we can laugh at ourselves. But only once did I try to playfully answer back “Nope. I don’t have to do that anymore! Ha.” because the look that crossed his face – I hurt him. And I won’t, can’t, go there.

~~*~~

I’ll be looking for a job starting next week. And then I’ll be checking into schools and such. The move was going to take place first but because of the aforemention important details that don’t really care what problems are occuring within my relationship, the move is pushed back a bit. So, that’s okay, as it’s only changed the order of things.

But if I don’t do something soon, if I don’t make a move to establish some undeniable independence, I can feel that we’d drift right back into the relationship that we had. His dominant nature will resume control and my submissive nature will resume submitting, and pretty soon, 6 months from now, probably without any real thought to it, we’d be right back where we started.

~~*~~

Some time ago, we were invited to a play party, one that we were both looking forward to. After last week, we’d both agreed we shouldn’t go. But last night, we acknowledged that we’re still kinky freaks, regardless of what title we don. And we should go where we can mingle among freaky friends and try this shiny new relationship dynamic on for size.

I don’t know exactly what that relationship dynamic IS.

I wonder if I could talk him into bottoming seeing as how we’re changing things up so much. I mean, really, I’d be nice (cough). I’ve a few experiences I’d like to share with him. A few…. favors…. to return.

~Tess

** I’ve tried to stop my brain and my mouth from calling him Master and it’s just not working. Probably I will switch back and forth, using whatever name makes me feel comfortable in the moment. I apologize for the confusion but, frankly, right now I’m not up for forcing any more change upon my person.

“Friends are like bras: close to your heart and there for support.

I’m a little speechless. Well, I’m a whole lot speechless.

When you’re lying in the dark in your bedroom, depressed and feeling sorry for yourself, and you watch with horror as the world just keeps right on spinning no matter how hard it’s coming to a screeching halt in your own head, you feel very alone. Very forgotten, very scared and very convinced that nobody will notice or care if you just wink out of existence.

Not life-existence, I’m not suicidal or anything. But, meh, you know what I mean, right?

These comments have made me cry. Never in my life have I needed to hear that someone, anyone, anywhere, cares.

So, as long as I can continue to pay the hosting charge here, I’ll write sometimes. I think – no, I know – that right now, I need all of you.

Thank you. For lifting me up.

“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”

I had every intention of shutting down and walking away. I haven’t been online since I took the site down. But when I got on this morning and saw the messages, I realized that just disappearing isn’t the way to do it. It’s not polite.

This place is about the journey of a Master and a slave, which, at this moment, we are not.

Master (or should I call him Scott now? Did anyone not know his name? Seems like it’s been leaked anyway.) and I are taking a different path for the next little while. Well, for the next long while, though in the grand scheme of things it is a little while.

Time is funny when you get older, isn’t it? Jes will be 17 this month and I think back to the day she was born and feel like the last 17 years went by in the blink of an eye – but I look forward to the next 5 years and it seems to stretch for an eternity.

I’m babbling.

No. I’m avoiding. This is not an easy situation to explain.

Master..*sigh*.. Scott (this could take some time. Old habits die hard.) had requested something that I found I simply could not do. Nothing sexual, nothing painful, nothing humiliating, or any other kinky freakish thing. Something that the minute details of don’t even matter. What matters is I realized that I could not, would not, will never do it. No matter what.

It laid to rest a rather nagging internal war I’d been waging for years. A sort of ‘what would I do if…’ scenario that suddenly wasn’t an “if” anymore and suddenly was answered with perfect finality.

I found myself, for the first time since we became Master and slave, feeling powerless in a completely bad way. I felt trapped, resentful, angry, and also for the first time, regretful.

I also saw, with startling clarity, what a heavy burden I am to him. Like a rope about his neck, I hang there. And from me hangs three other ropes. And from them, another rope had been added.

He was at his breaking point and there is no shame in that. There is no shame in being honest about your limitations. But there is shame in trying to force your own limitations on another who doesn’t share them. Especially one who is as stubborn and pig-headed as I am. And especially when I’m only just discovering that I’m limitless where he is not.

I am not ready to surrender all. I am not ready to give up all control. I am not ready to be powerless.

But that’s not entirely correct either. *I* am ready, me myself, all of me. But I am not a singular, I am a plural, I am part of a “we” and an “us” so therefore, what I am ready for doesn’t matter a whit. I owe big pieces of me to others, I don’t know for how long, I don’t know where it will take me, I only know where I cannot go just yet.

Oh I know I’m being all sorts of convoluted and cryptic. I really want this to be prettier than “He told me to do something and I said no. The End, Adios, See ya later, alligator.”

But maybe it’s really not any prettier than that. He told me to do something and I took off my collar and handed it back to him. And then I shut down the website and set about planning my future. Pretty, no?

Okay, so there were some very ugly moments, both quietly inside and vocally outside. I’d never felt so torn, never felt so conflicted, and never, ever felt so strongly that if I did not stick to my guns, I would regret it, and resent him, and hate myself, for the rest of my life.

I hated him for a day or so. Hated that he wouldn’t just cave and give in to me and let me do this my way. Ha. That’s funny, isn’t it? Because had he done so, I’d have lost all respect for him and all would have been lost anyway. He’s a smart one, my husband, and I love him still with every fiber of my being. I will always be his and nothing in that way has changed. But what is changing is me, my status, my choices.

I’m moving, actually, back to our home town. I’m going to go back to school and rent an apartment and raise my kids and live freely. He’s going to stay here, with the cats and the dog, and go to work and live HIS life, freely and happily.

And we’ll meet up now and then for hot raunchy sex, and I’ll come here when the kids are on school vacations or when I have time off of work and someday I’ll be back for good when I AM ready to surrender. Until then, we’ll be weekend ass slappers or whatever other slightly derogatory term applies to kinky folks living in LD relationships.

Funnily enough, where once I would have spat out those same derogatory terms, I’m quite pleased with them today. They sound just about right, just perfect. Maybe this is where I eat crow or have egg on my face for past declarations, but maybe not. Because what I am saying is that since we are not going to be living in a manner that facilitates a functioning Master/slave relationship, I am not a slave.

I don’t know what I am, but I know what I am not. I’m okay with that, too.

It’s a terrifying venture, but it feels right. It feels more right than anything I’ve done in a long time. We’ve talked at length of it, we’ve made the promises and we’ve spoken with frightening honesty. We’re aware that this will “make us or break us”, aware that we’ll either find out that we’ve taken the other for granted or that we’re glad the other is gone, or some equal mix of the two.

Maybe even looking forward to finding out.

And so I thought that closing down here was the thing to do. I see long stretches of vanilla-hood ahead of me. I see long periods of boredom, of fear, of drudgery, but, too, I expect lots of good things. This could be a spectacular mix of mothering, working, and finding independence splashed with periods of kink and flavored with defining myself in this relationship.

Or it could be none of that. It could be…. just another blog. I don’t know where to take it or if anyone is interested in the ride.

I woke up this morning to two messages from the Universe. Today’s message and one from the other day that I hadn’t seen yet. Now, I’m not a big believer in cosmic intelligence, but sometimes, maybe, the skeptic in me has to take a backseat for the day.

“Life, what a trip! One minute you’re born, the next you die. Then, one day, you stand back and say:

“Aye yai yai! Was that ever believable, or what?! First I thought I was this and then I thought I was that, then I became this and then that. Hold on now, why are you looking at me like that? Wait a minute… OHMYGOSH! There was a pattern! Holy cow! You mean I could have thought anything… and been anything?! But what about limits? How could that be? What do you mean pie in the sky? Dreams come true? Infinite possibilities?”

Fortunately, Tess, there’s still time…
    The Universe”

And then today’s message, a reference to the song “My Way”, the lyrics of which are stunningly fitting:

And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and ev’ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
“Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way”

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

~~*~~
So, I guess I’ll see you around.  Maybe here, maybe there.

~Tess