broken whole

Only when I’m broken do I feel whole.

That solitary sentence was in my draft folder, as if I had thought of something brilliant and new. As if I could come back and expound on it, turning it into some meaningful post. Broadening my horizons, and maybe yours. 

Only when I’m broken do I feel whole. 

Is that statement even true? Today, as I sit here contemplating my life, my choices, my reactions, my emotions – is that statement still honest? 

I feel a little broken. These months have taken their toll on me. This broken that I feel now, isn’t making me whole. This broken is making me feel… Overwhelmed, helpless, invisible, forgotten, and many other things. In fact instead of feeling whole, I feel fractured and scattered. I’m constantly trying to scoop up enough scraps to hold a little bit of me together.

So my first instinct is to look at that sentence and laugh, thinking the girl that wrote that was delusional. Being broken feels soulless.

Only when I’m broken do I feel whole.

But as I read it again and again, and I say it out loud, I remember. There is a broken that does make me feel whole. The broken, where all my defensenses and walls have been obliterated. The point where I am so lost and stripped of all thought – no nagging voices of jiggling thighs, or a marked stomach… No wondering if I’m too loud, no doubt, no questions, no worries, no child issues. That broken where there is nothing but truth and love and light and sensation. That broken down state where tears may flow, but they are not sad or scared. The kind of broken where there is only Sir and some weird magnetic connection. The kind of broken that strips away everything so that I can be rebuilt to His liking. That kind of broken sure as fuck makes me whole. That kind of broken brings an acceptance and a peace that I cannot find anywhere else. 

Only when I’m broken do I feel whole. 

That is my truth. 
Happy Friday, y’all! Homecoming here in my land… It’s a whole thing. 

~shygirl

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final terms [of endearment]

A little bit ago, an article about the psychology of nicknames (pet names, terms of endearment, etc) popped up in my feed, and of course I read it! I love pet names! Sir has an arsenal of names that He calls me and each makes me feel any number of things, but it all boils down to love.

Then, the other day, I was cleaning out my dresser and read some letters and cards from someone pretty important to me… And noticed the total lack of use of any pet names over the last eight months. It had struck me as odd on my birthday earlier this summer, but I tried not to read too much into and promptly blocked it out. But standing there, rereading months of words? Everything felt a little off.

I went in search of that article I had read, and then many others. Basically, the science says… Pet names are good. And the stoppage of using them, is a bad thing… A growing apart, a separation.

Fuck.

I guess… I am a little relieved… I mean, science and all… for once it’s not only in my head; it’s not just my stupid sensitive feelings. 

Also, I am a little embarrassed… I only stopped using the pet name a few days ago (after this revelation)… and oh god, there was that gift I gave. *hides face in the lopsided shame*

I suppose I already knew this happened, this separation… This sort of “out of sight, out of mind” vibe wafting across the miles. There have been plenty of clues – dwindling conversations and happy habits long abandoned – but a [sappy, hopeful, delusional] part of me thought we’d gotten past the bumps. Maybe this is yet another bump, who am I to say?

I’m not burning bridges or giving up, just living in the truth of the situation. I’m going to take it day by day, interaction by less-frequent-interaction. I will not give more than I get. Perhaps that will be the downfall, or I suppose things could pick back up. All I know is: I just can’t carry it like I used to.

Time will tell.

This isn’t a sad post, as much as it’s an “as-is” post. Terms of endearment are such a good thing and it’s concerning when they die out.

I am incredibly thankful to be Sir’s little light, kitten, slut, Su-B, shygirl, and on and on… I will simply bask in that warmth and hope not to hear my real name (y’all, that usually means trouble!).

Happy Monday, all you sweetcheeks of blogland!! (see what I did there?) 😀

~shygirl


thinking [struggle] thursday

Struggle. 

We all struggle. 

Your struggle may look different than mine, feel more important, BE bigger.

I know, things could be worse – things can ALWAYS be worse. 

But y’all! I am struggling right now!

I feel like I am on an island of struggle. 

I know if I could just jump off and swim to shore, I could find a little peace. 

But I am paralyzed, I am stuck… And I am so damn tired. 

I’m not looking for sympathy from you fine people. 

No, I just want to say: 

If you are struggling right now, with anything – You are not alone. 

We may be in different worlds, with different problems, but we all know the struggle. That fact must mean I’m not alone, either! That’s a little beacon of hope, right? Maybe..  collectively, separately… we’ve got this?!

I’m going with “hell yes” and sending mad props to Sir for helping me hold my head up.

Happy Thursday! 

~shygirl