I'm Back

Aight, I decided to say fuck this shit. Bitch has taken enough of my life, I'm not gonna let her have this place too. So I'm back. Sorely lacking on the inspiration, but whatever. I can meme this shit to high heaven.

We like to wrap things up in pretty little boxes, tie them shut with decorative bows. and pretend that all the worst and most amazing things in life are neat or pretty.

They aren't. Life is fucking messy.
Life is learning that your 14 year old son hates his middle name because your sil's ex boyfriend by the same name used to beat the shit out of her in front of him when he was six. Life is finally telling your six year old to sock the neighbor kid back. Life is watching your son try not to puke in the bushes after finding a dead body on his way to school. Life is wandering through the downtrodden streets and alleyways of a city you used to hate and accepting the beauty in its broken depravity. Life is snow in fucking May.

Life. We deny how raw it really is because we rarely have the stomach for blood, and it's easier to look at the bandage.

But life is bloody and raw and beautiful. It's passionate rage and ecstasy, pleasure and pain...Life is madness and magic. If we let ourselves feel it.

Love? Love is a goddamned battleground. Yea, it's beautiful and it's fucking epic. Love will wash through your soul in an epic rain of blood and roses. And if you think it's not gonna make you bleed like nothing else ever could, you are sadly mistaken.

Love is watching your husband, on a weekly basis, go fuck the soul sucking cunt that fucked you over, and attempting to find some modicum of grace. Because it makes him happy and fits within the fucking parameters of being owned that you agreed to.

Love is having two men bitch you out about not wearing a coat when you should. It's craving the look in some goddamn lost boy's eyes when he's really listening to you, and the tone in his voice when he tells you exactly what he wants in that moment.

Love is an epic goddamned wonderland of beauty and shit.

So yea...I am no longer who I once was. But I am what I am, I am submissive to my very fucking core whether I like it or not. And that will never change, regardless of how I feel about it.

I am not what I once was, but I am what I am. And this place is still my story.

She Knelt In Broken Glass...

I had dedicated myself to the bottom of a bottle of tequila, so while I was well aware that I was sitting in the center of a pile of broken glass, it took me a minute to realize that she was kneeling in it to kiss me.

She knelt in broken glass just to kiss me...Broken fucking glass...

The playground Upon Which Demons Feed and Hidden Desires Dance

I forgot how to write here. I forgot slowly over time, one step away here, another step there...
And I knew what it meant when we showed her this place, that one day I would sit down to write and pause. Because eventually, they will both read every word drawled across these pages.

A lot has happened since the last time I sat here, words pouring from my fingertips. A lot of reality fucking bites. But that's not why I'm here now. In this moment.

There is a natural ebb and flow to ttwd. We gave a lot to that job. We gave our all for a long time. Sacrifices were made, and one of those sacrifices was living in an ebb of D/s the length and depth of which we have never really fallen into before.

She said something that hurt my feelings. I should have gone to her about it, but I didn't. I balled up and shut out. I lost my words and retreated in silence. More than a little lost and confused...

And I once again realized something intricately entwined yet completely unrelated--this place, this slut, this sub, this slave...This is me. I am who I am. He feeds the dark twisted parts of me that crave to be alive, to be explored in the night, all the twisted little kinks and fantasies...The darkness is a part of our bond.

I was kind of pissed off that I didn't write this because I could have. Verbatim. But I love it. And I sent it to him. Because this is a huge part of who him and I are together.

He fed me tequila and took me out.
And there was more tequila.
He mind-fucked me until I couldn't see straight.
Then he did it some more.
He did a number on my mind, that took me a day to come back from. Dunno, maybe I still am three days later.
He turned me upside down and inside fucking out.

She has shown me that there is a space for me that is not subspace. That passion can be gentle and kind and still consuming. Fucking amazing.
Still I know by the look in her eyes when she half whispers about an urge to be violent with me, there is always that in me which desires to feed the beast, to be the playground upon which demons feed and hidden desires dance.

While she has offered very little judgement, there is a discomfort with his ownership of me, and some days I feel a bit bipolar bouncing between them like a ping pong ball. And some days I know that my life is fuller of real living, of really being me, than it has in a very long time.

I am, without a doubt, rather lost. I have payed some fines at a very high cost. I have given all and walked away from a lot this year. I have refused to live on my knees to a corporate entity, and the price of walking away from it is high. But there is only one way in which I desire to live on my knees, and that was not it.

This has been one hell of a year.

I have fallen in love with a woman.
I have helped build a business which would not have existed without me.
I have worked the kind of hours which did not allow me to see the light of day.
I have inspired and cried.
I have refused to be the mouth which expresses only the beliefs of upper management.
I have been demoted for being...Me.
I have made CEO's cry.
I have walked away from the closest thing to a real career that I have ever known
on the basis of where I draw the line as a human being,
how I can sleep with myself at night,
on the basis of who is there to stand up for those who had no other voice to speak for them.
For her.

No longer there, but still here.

Musings on Life and Love

This started out as a comment over at Misty's place, but it got ridiculously long and went way too far off topic...I'm pretty sure that I have already used this title at some point, and my images were exceeding uncooperative, but I have other things to do today that are not nearly as interesting as musing about philosophical concepts...

The other day, I was thinking about something in the general vein of being afraid of need and something being too good to be true...Only, unlike her posted thought process, mine sounds way stupid in print.

Around the time that I met Alpha, I made a conscious decision not to ever fall in love. Now, I suppose that doesn't sound so bad until you tie in my reasoning--I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid of life's tragedies, of the things I couldn't control, of losing anything or everything, and most of all, I was completely unafraid of death. However, I was afraid that love would change that--love would create need and dependence. So, since being in love was obviously the most terrible of Achilles heels, I was determined to never actually feel it.
For a while, it worked. And it was terribly heartbreakingly unfair to him. I decided that maybe it was better to give in to the thing that brought me so many fears, instead of letting my life revolve around fear of those things. And regardless of whether or not I actually deserved him, for some inexplicable (to me) reason, he had chosen me.

In retrospect, I was right, of course (couldn't resist and opportunity to say I was right. Clearly). I am now ridiculously afraid of losing him, of death and any such journey that either of us must inevitably take without the other.

Yet...Which is really worse--to deny oneself the feeling of actually being alive that comes with needing something so overwhelmingly much from someone and never actually allowing oneself to feel the need and looking back on life only to realize that we never truly allowed ourselves to LIVE because we were too afraid to do so?

Or knowing that it was glorious and beautiful and it hurt unimaginably badly and we bled for it, cried for it, gave it our all until our existence was merely the dust of that feeling and we flew through the stars; even knowing that eventually the landing would crush our hearts? Because it will, of course. Nothing we know, love, or experience will last forever as we know it. Nobody lives forever, and nothing is immune from the sands of time. But the trick, I think, is to really be alive. It is better to crash into dust like a flaming star across the sky than it is to skate carefully to one's end--because one would have spent too much time dead already.

Anyways, who's to say that what we see as the end is not really just the most terrifying and beautiful beginning, something so vast and beyond our thought processes that we simply cannot comprehend it until we become it...?

Above all my fears so vast, this...

Love is Crazy

Love is crazy.

To fall in love is an act of insanity. We'll bleed for it, pine for it, define ourselves by it, kill and die, lie cheat and steal...We will perform amazing and beautiful acts of kindness...We will exhibit the vast range of human behavior, from loathsome to lovely.

All just for that one little human sensation we call love.

The really amazing thing about love, is that regardless of it's outcome, longevity, or context, to have known it is a blessing.

Love can be consuming in a manner comparable only to fear...

I mean, it's crazy right?

We keep going back for more because it is the potential for heartache that makes love so precious. Love in all its forms. Not just the insanity that is being in love, but even the way love makes your heart rise and ache at the same time on a sunny morning. Just from love of the morning.

Love is that consuming fucking yearning in your heart, for a person, a moment, a ray of sunshine in the middle of winter, a good book by a warm fire, the sinking in your heart when something you love dies.
It is the one emotion that can both encompass and create all other feelings. It is messy and illogical, sometimes it crawls out from beneath the filth covered in blood, other times it's like a guiding light towards home.

Love is wanting to wake up every morning, it is crazy and imperfect and messy. Just like humanity. And as such, what better way to express ourselves than with the love of...What we love.

It's still crazy though. Love is as simple as the dirt beneath our feet and as infinitely complicated as the human mind. Love is the pain of loss, and the currency with which we count our life's costs.

Leveling Out the Playing Field

I doubt this is going to reflect kindly on me, but it is going to be written proof of my brilliant logic in action!

Alpha has decided to quit smoking. It's a decision that I wholeheartedly support with no small amount of trepidation (anyone who used to smoke, or has lived with someone who is quitting knows that withdrawals do wicked things to one's head--and in the midst of it, one is more than willing to spread the unhappiness around to anyone who lives in proximity).

He looked at me and said seriously, "I'm going to quit, and you are going to cut way, wayyyyy back."
I thought that was very reasonable.
Of course, he immediately followed that statement with, "Then I'm going to make you quit too."

If we worked in a demerits system, my response would have gotten me so far in the hole, I would have likely never made it back up to zero.
It might have gone over better had I been joking...
"But, you pointed out to me a long time ago that not only do women live an average of six years longer than men, I'm six years younger than you. I have been trying to level out the playing field ever since."

I now understand the statement, "Deafening silence". I do believe that if a bird had pooped within a mile, I would have heard it.

He got that look, you know--the one that makes you glad that there are children bickering in the living room and you're not sitting in a deserted alley at midnight.
"You had better cut that shit out right now, or I'll make you create a folder so that you can read and retype that sad post you found a while back. Every. Single. Day. Until you get the point."

I'm pretty sure that I turned a whole different shade of white girl.
The computer is being gluey, so I can't find and link to the post he was talking about, but I think that it was one of the saddest things I have ever read, and it made me cry. Written by a Dominant, it was a farewell to his slave who died of cancer. Thinking about it still makes me tear up.

I nearly burst into tears right then and there.

I have been trying to even out the playing field for a very long time. And love can be a race to the finish--no one wants to be the one living without that which they lived for.
But it's not supposed to be about that ultimate destination, so much as the journey itself.

By its very nature, love makes us strong, weak, selfish, selfless, brilliant, and incredibly stupid.
Love teaches us to take a leap, and to fear in ways that we never previously thought possible.
Love is extreme ecstasy, and the ultimate pain. All wrapped up in one disastrously beautiful package.
Love is scary because all life inevitably culminates in a journey that must be taken alone.

And apparently, those who love us in return do not appreciate any attempts to level the playing field in their favor. Who knew?

The Nature of God

There's a reason I don't talk religion or politics here. It's clearly not because I'm focused and can avoid rambling about random things--I just don't want to see my little corner turned into a debate ground.
So we're going to say that this post has nothing to do with religion, because it doesn't mkay?

When I was 11 or 12 I read a series of books called Conversations with God. In all fairness, I don't have a good recollection of the books. I do remember thinking that the guy who wrote them might be terribly delusional, but I was willing to let that go because some of it made a lot of sense to me.

Two of the things that I do remember are the concept of God being love and existing within all of us as opposed to being an external construct, and that fear, not hate, was the opposite of love.

I found the preposition that fear was the opposite of love to be...Not compatible with my view of hate as being the opposite of love.
I have however, found that love and fear are intrinsically entwined for me.

Opposites are necessary for life as we know it--without dark there is no light, we cannot truly appreciate pleasure if we have never known pain, and perhaps we could never know love if we did not also know fear.

Getting to the moral of the story...

Before falling in love, I had no fear of death. Admittedly, I was young enough not to have a great grasp of the speed with which life passes by. But my knowledge that life was finite didn't bother me. I saw death as merely an inevitable culmination of life.
I still do, and I'm still not terribly afraid of the finality of it in terms of my own life. But the concept of existing without that which I love most? That is very scary to me.

Perhaps God is love, and fear is its opposite.
When we really and truly love, we know the fear of losing that love.
Perhaps without that fear of loss, we could never really know what it is to love beyond ourselves.
Perhaps when we love something beyond ourselves, and we hold fear's hand, we come to another understanding of God.
Because without darkness there is no light.
Without pain there is no pleasure.
Without that which is unclean, we cannot revel in that which is pure.
Without severity we cannot know grace.
And without death, there is no life.

Perhaps the nature of God lies in knowing and experiencing the opposing factors of existence.

I spilled my first cup of coffee this morning. Can you tell?

A Formspring and Other Random Things

Someone asked me a question via Formspring about Thing1 and Thing2.
No, they are not my children. They are Alpha's little sisters. Given circumstances and the age difference, he pretty much raised them himself.
I wondered if I should put up a cast of characters on the sidebar...But then I decided that I will not admit to bitching about them that much lol.

Now on to other random things...

Apparently, it is easy to be pleasantly surprised when one has low expectations. Fil actually showed up to the kiddo's soccer game.

Looking at them standing together, something struck me that I had not noticed in the previous fourteen years--while he has a smaller body mass, Alpha is actually taller than his father.
Seeing him standing back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders noticeably lacking the particularly raised and tight formation they usually have in his father's presence, I realized that, while he has always been Dominant, I am not the only one our power exchange has changed.

Alpha has nothing left to prove. He is who he is. Anything he had to prove, he has done so for himself regardless of anyone else's acknowledgement or realization.
And he's not just taller than his father--he really and truly is a bigger man with a sense of self acceptance that I have often envied over the years. Yet, he extends that same acceptance to me.

And I find myself eternally grateful for this man who entered my life and took me away from the downward spiral that I had happily thrown myself into
who provided for me long before I had a concept of what it was to provide for oneself

who, when I left him, haunted my dreams until I returned
and believed in me long after I quit believing in myself

this man who let me go years later, so that I could return to him of my own volition and become his property
who tells me I'm brilliant and when to shut up

this man with huge hands who gently brushes the hair out of my face and kisses my forehead

who ties me to the bed and treats me like a filthy whore

this man who values my opinions and still tells me what to do
who is both arrogant and humble

this man who chained me down so that I could be free and who has consistently forced me to be...Me.

I am grateful. Because he has always been there for me.
They say that submission is a gift--Alpha tells me that it is anyways. And chances are, he's right.
But I am deeply grateful for the gift of his Dominance. I am extremely proud, not only of the man he is, but of the Dominant he has become.

So there you have it my love--your disagreeable one is not so secretly head over heels in love with you.
Even if it was somewhat disappointing that you wouldn't admit to having a crush on me because your wife wouldn't approve. lol.

Maintenance

 Not maintenance in the form of spanking. Those only happen because he can or wants to remind me that behaving is better than not behaving. No, that's not the kind of maintenance I need.

The kind of maintenance that reminds me he hasn't tired of our love.

There hasn't been a whole lot of Dominance and submission going on around here lately. I haven't been feeling well, fences with thing2 are badly damaged due to the broken fences with thing1, finances have been in less than stellar condition, in two weeks it will be two years since my father died, etc.
You get the picture. Life happens lol.

And there's something about our life that Alpha's fundamentally unhappy or unsatisfied with. When he figures out exactly what it is, I'll be the first to know.
The biggest problem I have surrounding this issue (besides the fact that I want him to be happy), is that I don't appear to be part of the solution. Not that he's running off to Mexico with a blonde or anything like that, it's just that nothing I do or don't do seems to make anything better.

But this isn't a whining rant. Really it's not!

He used to bring me flowers. I would tell him not to, and he'd do it anyways. Though for the most part, he switched to chocolate because well, chocolate is chocolate!

One mortgage, two kids, several generations of dogs, multiple family upheavals of epic proportions, fourteen years later, and I honestly couldn't tell you the last time he brought me flowers.

And you know what? I started to miss them. Yep, the woman who repeatedly used to say that flowers were nice, but not nice enough to spend money on.

Yesterday he brought me roses. And a card. Out of the blue, for no apparent reason.

Roses really are my favorite flower. And I think I like these more than any I have ever seen lol. And a written proclamation of eternal love and appreciation? Well that's a hard combination not to fall for.

And yes, the roses will whither and die because that's what flowers do. But the way I felt myself light up when I saw them? That's going to last long after they're gone.

On a not completely unrelated note, he used my mouth to cum last night. Then I asked to make myself cum afterwards and asked him if he knew when it was that I had done it last, he said "no, do you remember?". The truth is, I don't. A year? Two years? I'm not sure I even can any more...
He chuckled, rolled over and said, "fine go for it. but I'm not telling you when to cum!" Oh...."Ummm, please? That's really not fair you know. Okaay...I'm sure if I imagine it enough, that will work just fine for me!" I really wasn't sure, but you know, I figured it was worth a go.

Yea...He got tired of waiting for me to tear my clit off in desperation and decided to use me until he came again. And he told me to. So I got to cum too.
So the jury is still out as to whether or not I can actually still make myself cum. But I'm okay with that.

I say give me the roses and bring on the thorns.

Roses, a written proclamation of eternal love followed by some rough use and undeniable proof that I belong to him? Oh yes. That's the kind of maintenance I need.

Do I really have to pick a title for every post?

 I know it's Valentines Day and I should probably be posting something sweet with chains wrapped around it, but we're having our day tomorrow when my mom watches the boys for us. I have suspicions that it will offer me some of those umm, "opportunities for growth" lol (thanks to aisha for reminding me that they hide around every corner).
For future reference, if you hate cold, never buy yourself a chain leash because you despise pink and the checkout lady at the pet store has started giving you dirty looks for staring at the leashes for twenty minutes after picking out a riding crop.
And that's all I have to say about that. So there. lol.

My mindset has been, shall we say, less than submissive. Yes, lets say that--it sounds so much better than raging bitch who can't snap out of crisis mode doesn't it?
My little light-bulb moment about dictating the terms of my submission has put me in a strange head space. I started to write a post about it, but I haven't even figured out enough to work it out through writing, so it'll sit for a time while I continue to muse.
Though I must admit--the more I think about it, the more it bothers me that I do this.

Today is our fourteenth Valentines Day together. I challenged his math (not too wise considering I spent a couple of months thinking we were going on 13 years together, not 14). Yea, he was right as usual.
  
It's crazy to think that we have been together for nearly half my life.

And here we are today--Dominant and Submissive or Master and slave, sane stable man and crazy emotional little thing, can't seem to pick a label that fits these days, so whatever lol.

But hey, we're in love. And that's quite good enough for me.

Love and Correction

I felt like crap. I had been apologetically pissy all day. I knew it, he knew it, and I was trying really hard to be nice.
He tucked me under a blanket on the couch, made me a lovely cup of tea, kissed my forehead, and informed me that, regarding our spat last week, he hates it when I get pissy over him giving other things attention.
That he could be wrong, but it feels like my attitude is topping from the bottom--I have a little temper tantrum to get my way like the kid (ouch). He informed me that it won't get me what I want, and he won't put up with it.

Love is awesome.

I don't think that I have ever felt so freakin bashful in my life.

Love and ttwd

I started thinking about this after greengirl's comment on my last post. I was inspired to do some navel gazing today by a post she did at whatiwonder, which led to comments that inspired this post over at Aisha, and got me to put some more thought into how love and ttwd relate to each other.
Run-on sentences much?

Anyways...

I could not really submit if I didn't love Alpha. I would never be able to really let go if He didn't love me.

Well, I would submit. But I couldn't surrender.

Is love the same thing as submission? I don't think so. But I do think that submission can be an expression of love.
When you combine D/s and love there is a certain intimacy and passion. A connection deeper than skin. And it is like nothing else. For me, love is what makes ttwd what it is. It makes an experience that could otherwise be terribly scarring, and turns it into something so incredible that I cannot even find words for it.

In ttwd love opens doors that would otherwise stay closed to us. And there are some amazing experiences behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the spirit of complete randomness...

Somewhere along the line recently I became picky in my submission. I felt like I wanted Alpha to dominate me completely, but I wanted to choose when and how. 

Just award me the "worst brilliant submissive" award now.

D/s and sex are closely related in our relationship. And I've got some serious disconnect going on. Case in point, we watched porn last night and I wasn't turned on in the least little bit. Zip, zilch, nada, nothing, "can I just go to bed and pass out?"

Yet, unbeknownst to me, my body had a completely different reaction (we are not currently communicating well apparently).

And we need the expression of connection inherent in ttwd. I have learned enough to check back in and submit. That submission doesn't need to be a reaction. But sometimes I feel like I am separate from the act (I have totally given up on trying to make sense to anyone besides myself at this point lol).

Do I need Dominance to inspire my submission? Yes. I'm like an addict and I want my fix. But I also feel like that fix should come from submission itself--not necessarily just from dominance.
Being picky with submission doesn't work. That's not what it's about. If He was how I wanted Him to be all the time, and only did what I wanted, then it wouldn't really be D/s at all.

Edit: I love seeing a post take off and inspire posts on multiple blogs, so I thought I would add that sin has one up about D/s and love here. And sfp has one here.

Because I love you

I was teasing Alpha, asking about His (imaginary) escapades with other women when I wasn't around. "I wouldn't do that." He told me sincerely, "I would tie you up at the foot of the bed and make you watch. Because I love you."

Well then. There you have it. Who knew love was so simple? 

Ooh, the teen years--Happy Anniversary

We got together thirteen years ago today.
And seven years ago today, we made that leap of faith called marriage. It has been a rocky road with many ups and downs, some wrong turns and breaks in the road. But I have no regrets. Every step we took has led us to where and what we are today.

Sometimes I think that You are, or will become, bored with me. And it's a little bit scary because You are my everything.
Every now and then, I get worried that You will find someone better--because occasionally I wonder why You chose me and how I could be so lucky.

But here we are, thirteen years in. And we are better than we were before. Our love has become something I thought existed only in fairy tales and I do truly love you more than I ever thought I could.

You have given me more than I ever believed was possible. 

I am grateful for Your Dominance, 

thankful for Your love, 

and honored to be Yours.

Here we are, thirteen years in. 

And I love You more than ever before. 

We are better than I ever thought we could be. 

We are closer than I ever thought possible.

My beloved Master, Husband, lover, friend, confidante, protector,
I love You more than words can say.

I am yours all ways and forever.

Happy anniversary my Love.

Love is not always kind

I owe Eden Fantasys a review, but given my body's recent ridiculous aptitude for issues, that post will have to wait. So my readers will be subjected to more of my random ramblings.

I watched "The Secretary" last night, and while I was not terribly impressed with the movie itself, there was a line in it that got me to thinking (I know, it's a horribly dangerous pastime that I just haven't been able to give up). Ok, ahem, I'll have to paraphrase because, while the sentence did strike me, it was late at night and I had other things on my mind like the recent demise of the pricey and newly replaced parts on my car.
Anyways, this particular line was something to the effect of "who says that love has to be kind and gentle?"

It's a good question. Because one of the incredible things about love, is that it it takes many forms and can encompass so many other emotions. Sure, love can, and at times should be, kind and gentle. But overall, as an experience? No. Love does not always have to be soft. In fact, to confine it into such a simplistic and single-minded state, removes many of the possibilities love offers.

Love can be tender and gentle. It can also be savage and primal, without restrictions and thought. It offers a wider spectrum of experience than any other emotion--fulfillment, need, tenderness, pain, joy, sadness, companionship, loneliness, the list goes on.

In my experience, love can be a savage state of being. A place where reason often loses much of it's meaning and we are left with only the bare bones of human need and desire. Does love have to be either harsh or gentle all of the time? No, because it inherently contains both ends of the spectrum.For me, I find a mixture of both to be a fulfilling and wonderful state of being.

I do like my love a bit brutal. Not necessarily on the physical level (though hey, I'm not often complaining there), but in the sense of it being raw and unfiltered. It's not always pretty, but it has it's own kind of truth which is, in and of itself, a spectacular experience. There is purity to the pain that comes with love, both physical and mental/emotional. It takes some type of effort for love to be soft and kind (effort that is necessary and important at times), but love in it's raw and primal form is requires no filtering or effort--it just...is.

It's true you know--while there is a time and place for everything, love does not always have to be kind and gentle.

Powerful Experiences

I was going to say that I feel ten years younger. But I'm far to tired and achy to be eighteen again, so I'll settle for five years younger.
 I held out the glass of awful icky liquid, "take another gulp." He glared at me, "you're a mean cruel horrible wretched bitch!" I grinned back in agreement and offered the suggestion that for every drink He took, we could work our way alphabetically through five of the nasty rude names He wanted to call me (in all fairness, that test prep crap really was the most awful tasting stuff ever and the taste seemed to be the least of it's drawbacks). He opted out of doing it in alphabetical order.
In the end, the tests were done and everything came back good. In my personal opinion, any doctor that bounces into a room and suggests that you have some horrible incurable disease and he just needs a couple of tests to confirm his theory, should be lynched. I wanted to send the man hate mail for freaking the ever living shit out of me. But it doesn't matter what he thought. Because he was wrong. And Alpha is going to be fine. My world's okay. Because no matter how far the sky falls, as long as He's there, it doesn't matter what life decides to throw out. We're still in heaps of debt, my job still sucks, family is still a pain in the ass. But I think that I am the happiest I have been in a very long time. Because when it comes right down to the bare realities of existence and life--none of that really matters.

I have been thinking about powerful experiences.
I think that the most powerful experiences in life are the ones that are capable of bringing us the most intense feeling and emotions from opposite ends of the spectrum. They are the ones that bring us the greatest joy and offer the largest capacity for sadness. Kind of like a pleasure/pain paradigm. Love is similar. It is one of the most powerful experiences we will have in our time line between the experiences of birth and death.

Alpha and I used to occasionally debate whether it was better to have loved and lost or never loved at all. I took the stance that it was better to have never loved at all and He vehemently disagreed. After months of ruminating on the topic, I have come to the conclusion that, when we fall in love, whether it is a conscious decision or not, we have decided that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. We accept that it offers a paradigm of opposites. And if we are lucky, we don't experience loss to great extremes, but if we do, it is worth it because we will have known one of the most powerful experiences of humankind.

My back's out again and I feel like crap. But I am happier than I have been in ages. Because the love around which my world revolves, is going to be with me for a very long time. And it is worth every bit of risk to live one of the most powerful experiences of all--love.

Sexy

Say what you will about sexy, everyone has there own definition. I just have to say, there's nothing quite as sexy as a big man willing to sleep on a foldout couch completely squished between to small children so that His wife can get some sleep.

All okay

Last night, afterward (I'll let your imagination fill in the blanks. I have little doubt that whatever you come up with will be far more kinky lol), we were lying there in bed. I was feeling needy. The kind of needy where I wanted to be as close as possible without actually crawling into His skin. Alpha tucked my head into His shoulder and said "It's okay. Pleasure, pain, life, death--it's all okay." It was such a random statement. But somehow it was perfect. And I cried (yea, I'm a poster child for stability these days). And you know what? It really was all okay.

"Can I get you anything else Sir?"

I was sweet and pleasant all day yesterday. Translation: I was snarky, out of sorts, and prone to bitching. My mom had offered to watch the boys (it's been about six months since we had a night to ourselves), we were running late to drop them off because Alpha had been trying to figure out what's wrong with my car, and the big boy had been an absolute monster complete, complete with horns and cloven hooves, all day. So naturally, since I was in such an acquiescing and loving mood, I was absolutely thrilled when we got to my moms house and Alpha took off to the mechanics in order to bolt parts back on my car. Then of course we argued in the driveway about my attitude and what we were going to do with twenty four hours to ourselves. By the time we got to the restaurant (twenty minutes before they opened), I was in a completely foul mood and He was totally fed up with it. Now, He could have stopped it hours ago with a little initiative by putting me in my place (please note my skilled ability at displacing all blame here), but He let me keep sinking into bitch zone. Of course, being twenty minutes early to the restaurant, and not having small children bouncing around the car, gave Him ample opportunity to return the favors I had happily been handing out all afternoon. Someone once said that necessity was the mother of invention. I would plead the case that it's evil, not necessity. He whipped me with the freakin cell phone charger. I took it gracefully in stride by pointing out that I wanted to choke Him with it and didn't need to count the blows. Twenty minutes can be a very long time. All I'll say is, I did not choke Him with it, I did count (rather loudly), and when we went in to eat, our wide eyed waitress was a woman I had psych class with a few years ago (she was as bad a waitress as teammate. No grudges here). Of course lol, she was not an issue. Now the cute little thing who wasn't old enough to serve alcohol with an ass Alpha was more than happy to inspect? Completely different story. "Can I get you anything else Sir?" Hmmmm, "no He's good but I'll take your head on a platter with a side of psychotic bitch please and thank you." Gimme some credit, I didn't say it out loud. No jealousy issues here.

It's a typical reaction from women. They drop their eyes, lower their voices, and politely "Can I do anything for you Sir?" Until I'm blue in the face and He's grinning at me without even bothering to fake shame. I think that jealousy is my single largest issue when it comes to being a submissive.

Anyways, it was all good. We came home, watched porn and fucked on the couch. I slept until 10:00. It was a miracle. I can't remember the last time I slept that late.
So all in all, despite it's ups and downs, yesterday was a very good day.

Love is good lol.

Always there

I have been feeling whiny and out of sorts. I find it annoying and unbecoming (imagine how fun it is to live with as another person lol). My blog posts reflect it--humor, what's that? Anyways, Alpha made my day yesterday. I was having a bad morning. He dropped me off at work where my attitude immediately took another downward turn. Then, He came back. To show me what He had bought the kiddo for his birthday and tell me to have a good day. Alpha informed me He was going to beat my ass for going to bed with underwear on and not asking for permission. He made me suck His cock in the front seat of the car (with me bemoaning why the car couldn't have been the Wal Mart parking lot instead), He told me everything was going was going to be okay, brought me coffee, kissed me on the forehead, and made my life alright.
That is why the immediate reward is not important--because He gives me what I need when I need it. Because He loves me. Because He's always there for me when I need Him.