Foundations and Their Maintenance

Tori was kind enough to offer me some writing fodder on my last post. After this I'll be fresh out of ideas again, so...Help? I know there's enough of you out there to offer me some kind of inspiration!

Tori asked:
"In your opinion, of course, what do you consider the most important foundations on which your relationship is built on in relation to it being M/s, and how does one maintain those foundations?"

My first thought was, "I like this question!" then, after thinking for a little bit, I found it a tad more complicated than it first appeared.
I think that the key here for me is my relationship. Because I think that, while such foundations often have many similarities, they will differ from person to person.

Bear with me here, this might become a bit of a ramble (I could say "Bare with me" but I'd probably get in trouble for offering to share nakedness).

I really didn't want to say trust, because it seems rather cliche, you know? Luckily for me, tori is a smart lady and made the question plural--nothing as complex as the supporting stones of a relationship can be reduced to any one thing.
So, I would have to say that, for me, the most important foundations that our relationship is built on in relation to M/s are trust, knowing, transparency, faith, and D/s.

I trust that he will never do anything he thinks will cause our relationship or myself irrevocable harm. This trust allows me to follow where he leads--without it, we would never have gone as far into the abyss as we have.

Knowing...He knows me. Not just superficially, he has known me for over half of my life, and often displays a more in depth knowing of me than I do of myself. While this can be rather irritating at times, it has an enormous impact on our M/s. This knowing has very little to do with my body, (though, don't get me started about how it responds soo much better to him than myself) but he know me. He knows my mind. He knows how I work, what makes me tick, my hatreds and my passions. He knows what I truly abhor, and what I only want  to think that I abhor. And he uses all this knowing to unravel me from the inside out, to bend me to his will, to make me want and need what he wants me to.

Transparency...Now this one is a bit tricky, because it's a one way street. The transparency I speak of is mine--he is not transparent to me. I'm okay with that. The thing is, if I feel like I'm not transparent, I am not...Hmm...I can't surrender all of me if he can't see all of me.
This transparency is key to how we work. If I feel like I am holding anything back from him, then I feel like I'm not really his. It keeps us in the shallows to a surprising extent.

Faith...I debated with myself for a while as to whether this was belief or faith (I will admit to doing a Google search which became frustratingly religious, but did help me clarify my meaning). Belief fits in with what we want to be true--we believe because we want to. Faith is accepting and opening one's mind, it is knowing that whatever will be will be, and going with it regardless of one's preconceived notions.
I have faith in him. In his abilities, his intent, who he is and how he wishes us to be.

D/s...It might seem kind of strange to define D/s as a foundation for M/s, but I think it works. Dominance and submission allows us to experience and live M/s. Without it, there is no M/s, and we could have never gotten to where we are today.

How do we maintain these foundations? Sometimes, not very well. Lol.
In all seriousness though, I think that we maintain them by staying true to the general principles of our foundations. If something feels...Wrong, then we need to look at where we are deviating from being true to ourselves and how our relationship works. It takes time and effort--acknowledging the energy it takes to maintain our personal sanctuary.
The single most solid example of maintaining our foundations is D/s--feeding it in various ways. Dominance and submission maintains our foundations by constantly reminding us of why we have them and the purposes they serve.
As to maintaining D/s itself...Well, still working on that one (slow learner here).

A Need That Only He Can Feed

Once upon a time, a very long time ago in fact, I was searching for something that made me feel real.

To many Pinocchio and princess mixed metaphors?
Ah well, What can I say? Sometimes temptation gets the better of me.

Turns out, for all my running and searching, it was right there under my nose the whole time.

His control.
It quiets my mind, and brings peace to my soul.
It makes me feel alive, and is the one thing that makes everything okay. Even if just for a moment.

I have found that there's very little I actually need in life. His control is one of those things. It brings a stability to my chaotic mind that I just can't seem to find in anything else. It makes me...Okay.

In those moments
when he says that I am his
and I will do whatever he wishes, whenever he wishes it
forever.

For a while, I thought that he had made control my kink. But I was wrong--over time, he has ensured that it is my need. A need that only he can feed.

On a side note, I am terribly low on inspiration these days, so...You know the drill--questions? Answers? Ideas...?

Every Day...

I want to live every day as if it were my last. I mean really live it. Without the fear that comes so commonly to me in contemplation of any journey without you.

I want to breathe you in every day as if you were my last breath, your love my exquisite death.

To bleed for you, 

be for you,

and free the beast inside of you...

To beg for you and bend for you 

to exist

for you...

Have I?

Have I told you lately, that I think you are brilliant at what you do?

Have I told you lately that I think you will be brilliant at anything you put your mind to?

Have I told you lately that, while I am often questioning and skeptical, I support whatever you choose to do?

Have I told you lately that you created some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen?

Have I told you lately how amazing it is that you have made things which will still stand long after we are gone?

Have I reminded you lately that you have already accomplished more than our parents did in a lifetime?

Have I admitted lately that my faith in you is absolute?

Somewhere along the way, some things went wrong

choices were made

the family changed

and life hasn't quite been the same

but that's okay.

I think that perhaps your faith in yourself was shaken

and I have been remiss in reminding you

that you are the person who makes me believe anything is possible

that with you by my side,
I know in my heart there is no achievement to high to reach

that I believe you can be successful at everything, at anything, at whatever your heart desires.

Have I told you lately, that it's okay for dreams to change

and as long as I remain in yours

I will follow you wherever they may lead?

Have I told you lately, that while I am terribly afraid to follow my dreams,

and sometimes I worry that some of yours might be flights of fancy,
I still believe you should do what pleases you?

Sometimes I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes

the man who never falters

never gives up

can live through hell and achieve anything

the man who stands strong when the world falls apart

the man who refuses to compromise his principals for the shortcomings of others

the man who teaches me every day what unconditional love really means.

I know my love, that things are not always as they seem

and lately, there has been a space between us

a small gulf that feels like the endless sea

but I am truly here by your side

always along for the ride

even though sometimes I run and hide

I live to hear your voice calling me

saying

"Mine".

We grow older and become companions to disillusionment

our time here is finite

and that can put life in a slightly bitter light.

But you and I my love

you and I have existed throughout time

where I am yours and you are mine.

The sands of inevitability slip on by

but some things

like you and me

were always meant to be.

Thinking Again...

 This one's about a month old, but the drafts folder has gotten a bit out of hand, so it's Fall cleaning time.
On a completely unrelated note, am I the only person Blogger has erroneously decided isn't actually following any blogs, or is it being a bitch to everyone else too?

So, I have once again been indulging in that dangerous pastime known as thinking. Terrible habit, I know.

There are decisions and life choices which he simply refuses to make me go one way or the other. He says that they are choices I have to make for myself, yet he will often come to the point of expressing a preference one way or another.

Herein lies the conundrum of that approach--since integrating D/s so thoroughly into our lives, I have never made one of those big decisions in favor of the direction he wasn't promoting.

I always ultimately feel compelled to follow his wishes, even if he refuses to phrase them as orders. Only, however, after lengthy self-torment about making the right decision.

I have a work decision to make. It's becoming an obsession, even though time isn't really pressing at the moment.
He clearly wants me to take path A, but won't tell me to do so.
It is becoming painfully obvious through all my obsessing, that I will eventfully take the path he desires. Yet....I still have to obsess about the decision, even having a deep sense of where I will eventually end up.

Why?!?

Why do I always have to take the long and angsty track to everything? It's an annoying trait.

Yet, if I were to tell him today that I choose path A, he would be noncommittal. He would question why I made the choice I did, and insist that I be absolutely sure. Because, yea...He knows how I am. Queen of indecision here.

He can spend day in and day out telling me that I have to make the choice myself, but I don't know that I'm even capable of going against the direction he wants anymore...

"Sometimes" Ha!

Odd that someone so far in could still wake up one morning and think that it's a good idea to say "No". Though, I have a feeling that's going to bite me in the ass tomorrow morning. Perhaps quite literally...

A Calclulating Mind

A calculating male mind is extremely sexy and since I, of course, can never seem to leave a thought well enough alone, I had to question...Why?

Detached cruelty and comforting tenderness is a huge turn-on for me, I questioned that, but never really figured anything out. The thing is though, neither of these on their own is terribly attractive, and without calculation...

I think that the attractive qualities of a calculating mind come into play because they are a sign of control.
No matter what happens, or how it happens, possible results have been calculated out beforehand, and self control was exerted to make those events happen in a particular manner.

His calculations tend to lack in excess outward emotions, which only serves to add to...

I like the look in his eyes when I watch him calculate me out like moves on a chessboard. Each step carefully considered, appraised as his opponent and brought to my knees...

Oh yes, I am definitely a whore for the calculating mind.

Another Rant...

I guess I'll start off with the obvious today--I'm in a foul mood with life.

I have quite had it with people who think that they own the people they hire (for reals, one step away from yelling at someone over people who aren't even our employees. Don't even get me started on what I have to say about how they're treating my husband). The exact words which come to mind are "It's called working for a living wage bitch, not indentured servitude--now fuck off before I break my promise not to assault anybody." Maybe that's why he left me at home to clean the house today...

Perhaps that's one of my biggest problems with going out into the world...I don't care what people think I am. And he's taking me to a place where, apparently, what people think of me does matter.

I don't care if you have more money than God, or you live in a cardboard box, I don't care what kind of car you drive or what brand of shoes you wear, I don't care if you went to Stanford or can't even read a book, I don't care if you could buy the county I live in, or can't afford lunch tomorrow (actually, I do kind of care about people who can't eat, but that's besides my point). I care about how you treat the other living beings you come into contact with.

Yep, I'm falling apart at the seams. And at the moment, I don't really mind. It's not even, "That time of the month" so I really have no valid excuse for hating the world today. It just seems to me that there are an inordinate amount of assholes floating around out there...

Finally! The perfect translation...

I suppose that the imminent prospect of my life turning upside down and inside out isn't making me feel more tolerant of the world in general, but damn, humanity can be a disappointing group...

Uh huh.

Not Very Good at This

I know that I still have comments to get to, but for now, I'm going to let the tired eat me and start clearing out the drafts folder, so... I haven't forgotten you though! 

I'm not particularly fond of things that I'm no good at.

Turns out, I'm not particularly good at this slave thing. Do you know how terrible it can be to have an overwhelming compulsion and be particularly bad at it?

Seriously. It's like no matter how much I don't want it, or how badly I decide I hate it in the moment, or how often I realize I'm terribly bad at it, I still cannot escape the need to be owned.

He likes to point out that without an owner I am like a ship with no harbor, and it's true. It is still odd to me though, to have this inner compulsion, this overwhelming need, this unavoidable craving...Yet...Continue to so often struggle with the basic realities. And really, we are not new to this anymore...So wtf?

I love this quote...

Rambling On...

He says that I should just open my mouth and ask if I want or need something. I'll admit that it's a valid point--I have always been...Challenged, when it comes to such stuff.

The thing is...

For him, computer games are what makes his head stop spinning. They're how he blocks out the world, and makes everything go away for a moment in time. Or sex, sex does it for him.

For me? The only thing that seems to do that for me, is his Domination. Honestly, I wish it weren't so, but I have yet to find a valid and acceptable substitute. Sex doesn't do it. In fact, it becomes slightly less appealing because my brain is, well, it's still rehashing today, yesterday, the needs of tomorrow, and the possibilities of next month. That's not hot.

Sometimes I do ask. And I know that my asking does not create an obligation for him to give. That is not our arrangement.

I try to escape, it's a revolving door that I find myself walking through monthly.

Then the yearning sets in. The obsession. The knowledge that I still haven't quite learned the silly lesson...

I will always come crawling back begging for what I need.

Craving him. 

Sometimes though, what makes the world vanish for me, is work for him.

Image source: tumbler_m3bbe6YzBk1rqpigpo1_400

The Downward Spiral

I feel like we never really bounced all of the way back from that couple of months I spent with my mom. Well, I never really bounced back. I went through  period of intensely craving structure, control, that overwhelming feeling of being owned...Then life set in.
Things just kept getting busier and crazier, he didn't have time, or energy, or...Then I got busy too, really busy, and we were both working until midnight, and all day on his days off...

We've been here before, I think most of us have. Life has it cycles of ups and downs, and so does D/s. It's just...This time, it's been a really long time. And if all goes well, things won't be calming down anytime soon, quite the opposite, in fact.

Our D/s is intrinsically wrapped up in sex. I have no sex drive. Zilch, zero, nada (you get the picture). Since, oh, April? Whether or not I feel sexy has a lot to do with my sex drive, and I've moved way past the sexy librarian stage onto, "I'm gonna live paperwork in my pj's" (not the sexy kind either. The paperwork or the pj's).

My desire to be controlled also seems to have gone the way of the dinosaurs. I don't want to be that woman who doesn't submit because she needs to feel Dominated to do so. I don't want to have the, "Well, if your not gonna_____, then I'm not gonna_____." approach to ttwd. I think it's a crappy, selfish approach that minimizes the depths of submission. Maybe I'm just not there yet (slow learner and all).

It's hard to climb up out of a downward spiral when one seems to have completely lost the desire to do so though...

Poetic Expression

I took some good advice, and went through the history of this blog, saving my poetic indiscretions into a word document. And it got me to thinking...

I've been thinking about pain and poetry. Not really physical pain, so much as mental. How some of the most beautiful thoughts and experiences are beautiful for their exquisite painfulness.

There is beauty in anything that makes people feel. No matter how gorgeous, or ugly, or painful, or wonderful...To evoke and feel real emotion...Is beautiful.

That is why poetry grabs us, like a whisper on the wind it floats through the readers mind, making us feel. Something. Anything.

So often I find poetic ramblings to be an exquisite torture, both as reader and writer. Because the best poetry comes from strong emotion. Whether it's love or pain, poetic expression should leave the reader feeling. Something. Anything. And in that moment, we are reminded that we are alive. Truly alive.

Poetry is not the dull ache of mind-numbing suffering. It is the quick sharp pain delivered by the edge of a knife. It is pain like that of the day of loss, not the simmering river of long since loss. It is sinking into the feeling on a page, humanity in letters.

Poetry is thought without form, feeling without cages, uncensored dreams put to pages. Poetry should make us feel. Something. Anything.

Poetry has no need for reason, or indeed at times, rhyme.

Poetry is the soul on paper. Heartache and joy and passion in the rarely so mutable written word. I have often found the most painful verses to be the most exquisite.

Poetry captures, for a moment, those places between torture and ecstasy. It is the voice of pleasure and pain, capturing that rare place where they become one and the same.

Poetic expression is the history of humanity wrapped up in the ramblings of individual souls, the sound of the mountains in the dreams of man, the voice of hunger and pain, the feeling of rain on one's skin, the glory of love, and the hunger of life...

Like floating on a song, poetry gives us a glimpse of the spirit, an unbridled glance into the human heart, an otherwise unmatched expression of the soul on paper.

Poetry is the voice of hunger and gluttony

the voice of passion and pain

the sound of the soul when it dances in the rain.

Poetry is the blood in our veins

it tells us of our final goodnights

it is the tale of our final goodbyes

the history of humanity's mysteries.

Poetry is love and loss

the story of each man's individual cross

the sound of a newborn babe breathing its first breath

the excruciating beauty found only in loss

Poetry is the voice of the father when he says that he has used up all of his ink

on his way into a never-ending sea

the final line in his own story.

Poetry is the way moonbeams fall across your pillow in the silence of night

the sound of a child's cry

that feeling we have when something we loves goes on to die

the illumination of sunlight on the morning dew.

Poetry is the feeling of skin underneath your finger tips
flesh moving softly beneath your lips
it is the exquisitely brutal kiss of a whip
the touch of steel in a wound that just won't heal.

Poetry is the long lost shore
the feeling that everything we think has perhaps been thought before
it tells us that we need not more than we have been given
and that perhaps we are driven
to be more than we could have been.

Poetry is beautiful ecstasy

love lost and yearning to be set free

the whisper of a song in your mind

poetry transcends time.

Poetry is
quiet
found only in the loudest of silences.

One In A Million

I really don't want to have The Great Vaccine Debate here. Really, I've had it with myself a million times, and it's why I usually stay away from such topics, but it's on my mind in a big way, so here it goes.

I waited until our eldest was five to start getting him vaccinated. It was not a decision I made lightly, and I did a great deal of research before making that decision (around here, if it's about the kids, it's usually my call).

He was that one in a million. That one kid who has seizures and can't breath, swells up like a jellyfish, gets a fever so high you think he should be boiling water in there, gets so ill that you're afraid he won't recover, and basically subjects you to the worst parental moments of your life. Thankfully, there were no long-term effects.

I have been read the riot act by various physicians, watched them tell him he was going to kill old people because I wouldn't give him the flu shot (true story), and been generally treated like the worst parent on earth for refusing to let anyone inject him with anything since then.

I haven't allowed anyone to give his brother vaccinations. Until...Yea, there's always a rusty nail somewhere out in the country, right?

I was patient and calm while the Dr. condescendingly explained to me that tetanus lives in the dirt (so yes, he could have gotten it from a scraped knee at some point because he hadn't been vaccinated), and I let her give me the whole "Why vaccines are great" talk. I know all these things though. I have researched more about vaccines than your average Dr. Promise. I know tetanus live in the dirt, I also know that you are far more likely to actually get it from a puncture wound than an actual scrape. I know that vaccines have saved millions of lives, and continue to prevent deadly and dangerous diseases across the world. I also know that my son was that one in a million kid, and I count us as incredibly blessed that he had no long term neurological problems.

Turns out, here they won't give a DT vaccine to a kid under seven now. It's DTaP. The vaccine his brother had the reaction to. Well, technically they weren't sure which one it was, but they strongly suggested that we get him the next round of all of them since "He didn't sustain a fever over 105 for more than three days, and he didn't die, so we can't issue you a vaccine exemption". We told them to shove it. Who needs a vaccine exemption card for a dead kid?
Anyways...
Tetanus is bad. It can be treated, but two out of ten people die from it, and those who don't, spend a good chunk of time in the ICU. Just because you step on a rusty nail doesn't mean that you are sure to get it, but the risk is there. I asked for a few minutes to think, called Alpha, and asked him what he thought. He said let them give it to him, so I did.

Our eldest was one in a million. Chances are slim of having two of those, right? Still though, I doubt I'll be sleeping much tonight. Just in case.

Live...

And live he did.

I Remember There Was A Time...

I remember

there was a time

when I used to sit with you

we used to talk about all of those things

that people said kids were to young to understand

you would take me by the hand

and together we would roam across the land.

I remember

there was a time

when I used to play with you

you would laugh at me, and I at you

win or lose, 

those times were almost too good to be true.

I remember

when there was a time

 I used to tell you my dreams every morning

bouncing around you while you laughed at me and drank your coffee.

I remember when there was a time

full of reason and rhyme

life made sense 

and there was no such thing as not enough time.

I remember there was a time 

when you told me that maybe someday

mom would lose her mind in the recesses of time

you said that we'd take care of her

but you left me with my promises

like a near miss in the dark

with the cracks of a quiet heart.

I remember there was a time

and I promised mine

for her.

For you.

That I would always hold true to the invisible realities no one ever wants to see.

That I would always believe in the dreams we can't quite touch

moving silently through the dusk.

I remember

there was a time

when you were mine.

Bodies they fade to dust

memories they slowly rust

and those of us who remain go on only because we must

using pain like a crutch.

And sometimes I use memories of you

like alcohol on a wound

because if only for a moment

I can drown myself in the pain

and in that instant

you become more than just the memories which remain.

And I know, I know that you are fine.

But I remember 

there was a time

when you were mine.

These bodies, they turn to dust

and memories, over time they begin to rust

as I reach for one last touch.

One of These Days

One of these days I am going to get a life and quit relying on Facebook for all of my posts. Until then...

My Week...

Been experiencing a lot of this:

Doing a lot of this:

Feeling a lot of this:

Accepting that it's too late to follow this advice:

And really trying to keep this award:

I think that maybe I need some of this:

A Restlessness in My Bones

There is a restlessness in my bones

I can hear it calling me home

reminding me that I am not alone

not all on my own.

As we come, once again, full circle

through my wonderings of all that I could be

wondering at everything you see in me.

There is a restlessness in my bones

I can feel it calling me home

reminding me of where I am meant to be

showing me that my place is at your feet.

As I wonder what I could be

the queen of worldly responsibilities

knowing that you believe in me

yet always I am yearning 

to rest at your feet.

And I wonder if I would forget me

in the throes of responsibility

would you let me drift into independence

forgetting what I am

losing what we are for all that we could become.

Would you release me to the ghosts in my head

leave me to the monsters under the bed

free me to die a million tiny deaths

to have a partner by your side?

Or would you, through it all, keep me tightly leashed

not by responsibility

but by reminding me

of what I was always meant to be?

There is a restlessness in my bones

like the sand of ancient stones

always it comes

calling me home

reminding me

that I am owned.

My Aching Head...

I know that I have comments to respond to, but I'm drowning in paperwork, and it's easier to come here and thoughtlessly complain.

Seriously, I know I'm not going to win editor of the year anytime soon, but some people take it to a whole new level of incompetence.

"Threw" means you tossed something at somebody, not walked through a door.
"Contently" is not a valid substitute for "Consistency".
Spell check is a very useful feature of any word document.
It is preferable to use the same sized font for an entire paragraph.
Use the word "an" when preceding a word that begins with a vowel.
It is important to listen to the client when formulating documents, and the documents you write should reflect the methods your client actually intends to use. Not whatever bullshit you just pulled out of your %**&*^
Professional business documents should not look like they were written by a dyslexic 12 year old.
Consistency is important--you cannot directly contradict yourself from one page to the next, and the proper spelling of a word will not change just because you started a new sentence.
For the love of all that is holy, do not substitute semicolons for commas!!!

My head hurts.

Looks familiar...Except there are no spelling mistakes!

Just look at what I have become!

I'm sure this is what I'll see should I have the misfortune of glancing in a mirror...

And please people, for the love of whatever God you believe in, check your fucking facts!! There's this  miraculous invention called the internet...

Okay, more coffee and then back at it. I feel better now. I think. Maybe.