thinking [ m ] thursday

I want the pain that comes after the no, after the stop, after the protests.
I want the pain that transcends the physical and becomes this far away thing that feels better and better the more savage it becomes.
I want the pain that leaves reminders – stripes, bruises, scratches.
I want the pain that takes me out of my head.
I want the kind of pain that feeds my love and recharges my soul.

The thing is, though, when I invite pain in I do so reluctantly, sparingly, greedily.
It scares me.
More accurately, I scare me.
After all this time, all these years, all my life, I should have stomped the hangups.
I should be able to embrace every last thing and stand tall and proud in my desires.
Instead, I am scared.
I worry that something I like, became something I want, became something I need.
Like an addict, will I always want more, one step further, a little harder, a little longer, a little more?
Will it ever be enough?
Will I ever be enough?
And so it is that I try to shut it down before I cross the line. As much as I desire the line to be erased, I fight hard as hell to stop it before we get there.
I want to give over to Sir and what I am too insecure to give, I want Him to take.
And in the taking, I want His soul recharged.
I want my tears to free Him as they free me.

I worry about Him, too.
Sometimes I think Sir thinks I am a delicate creature.
Or that He is too kind.
I worry that His confidence in me is less than stellar.
Maybe He thinks I won’t safeword.
Maybe He thinks I won’t know the subtle change between hurt and harm.
Maybe He worries about His own hangups and projects them onto me.

I can hear it know, the chorus chanting “communication is the answer”.
I know that.
We communicate.
We communicate to no end.
We talk, we work, we adjust.
It has been a rough few years.
Family things, work things, setback upon setback.
Some things remain constant.
Love. Marriage. Trust. D/s.
But the play part of D/s has changed and shifted – some lovely changes and some that I deeply grieve..
It is life. Nothing is static. Everything constantly changes.

I am ready for more.
I am ready to get this dialed in.
I am ready to sink back into what I am.
I am ready to drown in Him.
I am ready to let it all go, again.
I am ready to hurt.

~shygirl

kneel and be still

I sink to my knees and lose myself in you.


Your needs are the only thing I focus on.


That is how it is supposed to go, always


But sometimes, I am impatient


You leave me waiting and my mind ramps up


frustration and sadness usually come first


followed by doubt and insecurity


I am so disappointed in myself


Internally scolding and berating


If I cannot do this, can I even BE this?


I focus on my breath


Count it in, count it out


Pleading with my mind to just be still


I close my eyes again, rest my hands


Please let everything fall away


Just be me, just be His


I settle

He tells me I am a good girl


All is right and I know


Even during the struggles,


I AM this.

– shygirl

thinking [with age] thursday

I thought by now I wouldn’t feel so ugly. I thought by my early 40s I would have a little more confidence and a few less tears. I thought my anxiety would dissolve and I would sink into some lovely state of being. I thought by this time I would be comfortable in my own skin. I thought I wouldn’t feel like an outsider everywhere I go. I thought I would have my shit together. Or if I didn’t, I thought I could at least make it LOOK like I had my shit together.

I was so wrong about all of that.

At best, each day when I look I the mirror I feel passable. Mostly though, my face is the same face I’ve never loved, but with added wrinkles. Sometimes, I have a little confidence but it is always short-lived and the tears? I cry more now than in all my previous years combined. My anxiety not only didn’t dissolve, it has consumed more of me and I have sunk into some sort of state of being, but it is not lovely – it’s just worry on top of worry, counting down time. I have these fleeting moments in space where I am comfortable in my skin, though reality kicks me down before I have time to enjoy it. I don’t feel like an outsider, I AM an outsider, in most aspects of my life. I rarely have my shit together and I am far too tired to pretend like I do .

It is just weird. I thought by 42 I would be firmly settled into ME and the reality is I am still just the same as I ever was. I have a little more patience than I used to, I’m a little less angry, I have a lot more love (both given and received). I have a lot of good and wonderful things in my life and I am oh-so-thankful.

But deep down, in my heart and soul, I am still the same girl…

the girl that is never quite enough.

-shygirl