24 makes 10

24.
So that’s ten.
Two hands.
Ten years.
Such a long time.
Had you asked me then where I thought I’d be in ten years, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be here. 
Here is not bad – it’s just not what I thought.
Some parts are better than I could’ve dreamed. Others are definitively worse. So many are just different.
Ten is hard to wrap my head around.
It feels like yesterday, it feels like a long-ago dream nightmare dream.
I’ve learned some things, forgotten others.

Everything has changed.
I’m a new person.
Nothing has changed.
I’m still me, we are still we.
Somehow both stronger and weaker.
This life is one I cannot recognize or reconcile.

I’d like to revisit some things and OH MY GOD I’d love to delete some things.
I’d like to forget and not feel every damn thing, but that’s not how I’m made.
I remember… Every slight, every misstep, every lie, every hurt, every word.
I remember the good things too, which is a curse in itself sometimes.
(Woe is me, right?)

Ten years.
A lifetime. A fraction of a second.
Good riddance. Don’t go.
In the same breath.
Time is a thief and also Santa, taking away everything and giving even more.
What about the next ten years?!
Where will I be?
I won’t even think it because years seem too big today.
But the next ten minutes?!
They’ll be great.

xoxoXXX

~ shygirl

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

thinking [change or Changed] thursday

People change.

We are forever changing and evolving. So why then, is it frowned upon when someone’s change no longer aligns with you.

If when you first met, there were more similarities than differences but now one of you has changed so dramatically they become nearly unrecognizable, can you even bridge the divide? Things you knew are now null and void, so how is it that the feelings are expected to be the same? People grow together or they grow apart, right? But sometimes it goes beyond growth into just a whole different person.

It may even be a good change in the life of the one doing the changing! Good for them, but bad for you. Accepting someone as they are is great, loving them even as they become a different person is important, understanding it is best for their life is admirable… But what you don’t have to do, what you SHOULD NOT have to do, is carry on with them the same as before… with no one mentioning the divide, the change, the alternate universes we now live in and with. But so often, we just say nothing and keep up the sick charade. It’s exhausting and pretty sad.

Me? I haven’t changed so much as grown. I am the same person, hopefully a little better, but ultimately me. I hold the same convictions, feel the same about all the big stuff, have a very dirty mouth and the sarcasm never stops.

Once, we were similar. I think we were anyway… could be more pretending and lies… But I like to believe we were similar… And now?

We aren’t. Not in any real way.

There’s no hate. No ill-will. No animosity. But there is definitely a bit of W O W and a small smattering of ouch from time to time.

It’s a lot to take in and mull over, to analyze and digest. There are questions – of how and where and when and why and what the fuck – that will never be answered.

I don’t know how someone morphs into someone else. Not sure that’s information I even need to know. There’s change. And then there’s change. I know you’re supposed to meet people where they are, but I’m tired and maybe it’s time for someone to meet me where I am.

Until that happens (I am not holding my breath), I’ll just hole up in the sweet little world I have with Sir and our family.

Happy New Year.

Happy Thursday!

– shygirl