thinking [good life] thursday

D/s is not all kink. Not here. Not when it is twenty-four-seven. Not when there is no “off button” or “downtime”.

He is the boss. I am not.
He is in control. I am not.

The D/s dynamic, like any other type of relationship, is work. It isn’t a passive thing that just grows magically better. No, D/s is a constant, active work in progress. Like marriage. Like parenting.

He is Dominant. I am submissive.
He is the leader. I am the trusty sidekick.

That isn’t to say that my opinions don’t matter or that my voice isn’t heard. I am listened to and my voice is hard to ignore. Ultimately, though, He has the final say. I’m good with that. I function better that way. Most of the time.

He is steady. I am a mess.
He is a tree. I am the swing.

I am all over the place. My mind is always moving, worrying, obsessing, wondering. I am hard to love. I am hard to like. I can be hard to look at, hard to talk to, hard to reason with. So much so, that directness and firm words (and spanks) are absolutely needed to keep me grounded.

He is sure. I am sure I’m messed up.
He is confident. I am…well…not.

He works hard to lift me up, to make me see things that just aren’t there. He will beat it into me, He will fuck it into me, He will play with my hair and love it into me. In all of those moments, I forget, and maybe just briefly, I can see what He sees.

It wasn’t so long ago that I wasn’t sure if this could be real. If this whole D/s thing could be a viable life for us. I wanted it. I felt I finally made a little bit of sense, but I was so afraid my Husband wouldn’t take to it or would see it as too much work. What a silly girl I was! I was too wrapped up in my own head to notice that he didn’t have to ‘take’ to anything. He was already Dominant, he just needed to know it was okay to let it out. I lived my life fighting the submissive and I overcompensated because of it. I thought what I felt was wrong, was weak, was a character flaw. I have PLENTY of flaws, but being submissive is not one of them. I am submissive, through and through (YES! Even when I’m arguing, even when I have strong opinions, even when I rail against an order. I am still submissive, but i’m also me. The Gemini doesn’t leave despite my best efforts.)

Today I find myself living this dream of a life, but still bitching about random things, still being a boss to the kids, still fussing here and there, still working on my lacking esteem. The difference between now and pre-D/s is that I can be me. I HAVE to be me, Sir says so. I cannot hide my feelings, I cannot hide my anger or my insecurities. All of me is out there in the open – to be dissected and discussed. Now I am held accountable for what I say and what I do, I have clear lines to follow…and other lines that have been totally obliterated. That probably would make many people run for the hills, but I function best and am the most free when a strong hand is guiding me.

Oh what the hell… the sexytime D/s stuff is amazing too. The lack of power, the utter abandonment, the ropes, the belt, the flogger, the crop, the cuffs, they toys… the quiet mind is such a treat. But the sexytime just isn’t the main deal. The D/s dynamic… it has been a game changer, an eye opener, a soul-bearing exploration into our true selves.

I am forever grateful to my Sir for His love, for His control, for being the Boss.

Even on the toughest of days – it’s a good life, this.

~shygirl

 

 

 

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it isn’t personal, but it is

donttakeitpersonal nooffensebut

Don’t take this personally…

No offense, but…

I really hate these statements.  When I say hate, I mean HATE.  If you have to preface what you are about to say with either of those phrases, I know that what follows behind will be nothing but offensive and personal. My hackles raise immediately and I become defensive before the real subject is broached. I’d much rather hear… “hey, this is pretty offensive and might hurt you, but I feel the need to say it anyway…”. Let’s call a spade a spade and be done with it.

While I’m at it, I also get really irked by the statement “you take things too personally”. 
Hey! Guess what? I’m a PERSON. When things happen or are said that affect me, as a PERSON, how would you propose I take it? Face it, some things can only be taken personally.  Some things just aren’t a group thing, or a world thing, or a bird thing, or a hypothetical thing, or an abstract thing. Whether folks want to admit it or not, some things can only be taken personally.  Oh sure, maybe what is happening is due to the fact that you’ve had a bad day or your head is preoccupied with a million things (like mine is, often)… but if your actions affect me… it. is. personal. Perhaps I am not the CAUSE of the said action/words, but if the EFFECT is that it AFFECTS me… it has become personal. And you better believe I’m going to take it that way.  Why?  Well I have these things called feelings (barely manageable feelings, at that, here lately) and a strong need to make sure my own little world is running like a well-oiled machine, harmonious and happy. So I will take every slight, every word, every unwelcomed action… personally… until, as a caring person, I can figure out how to make it better.

Don’t you worry, I haven’t forgotten for one second that I’m not the boss around here (or anywhere) – the lovely bruises on my ass wouldn’t let me if I tried. Maybe you think that if the masses tell me it isn’t personal, I should leave well enough alone. My response to you would be… I hear you, but it feels personal.  It is affecting me, as a person.  Therefore, in my head and my life, it is personal. I can either run and hide (hello, instinct!) or try to fix it, even if the thing isn’t mine to fix. And so, I will quietly try to remedy what I don’t even understand. It may be a losing battle, but at the very least, maybe my mind will be able to focus on something other than the ache in my heart.

But seriously… don’t take this personally.

~shygirl

Thinking [boxes] Thursday

routine

I would say that makes sense, but here’s the thing:  I kind of like routine.  I do not like monotony – I do like to switch it up, but within the safe confines of my routine. I realize that may sound a little crazy, a little impossible, but that’s how I am most comfortable.  A basic routine… very general… with many variations inside of that big ol’ box of comfort.

comfortzone

Sir, however, keeps me teetering on the edge of my comfort zone.. and often pushes me right on over.  I was recently given a task I thought I would not be able to complete.  I may have cried a little bit and I definitely had a lot of anxiety over it.  In fact, I went so far as to tell Sir I just couldn’t do it.  I was swiftly informed that wasn’t even an option.

againstthewind

He said “Rise my beautiful girl.”  (swoon…)  After words like that, how the hell could I not comply?  And so I did.  I completed the task with red cheeks, shaky hands and more embarrassment than a person should be allowed to feel.  Even more than that, though, I felt pride and relief that I was able to overcome those insecure feelings and just get it done.  I fought through it and I tried my best.  I haven’t gotten any feedback just yet, but I feel pretty good about the job I did.

 

As Sir keeps pushing me outside my box of safety, the lines blur more and more.  Soon enough, I imagine the box will disappear altogether and then where will my safety lie!?  I actually know that answer: with my Husband!  He has always been my safety and my comfort.  I see now that the box has only served as a place for me to hide and I want it gone.

neverseealone

So, for my Sir, my Husband, who has always been there to push me and to catch me – I am forever indebted!  Truly, I am not the boss (still working on that bracelet) and never want to be again.  He knows what he’s doing.  He knows, better than I, what I need.  Sir brings out the best… the MOST… in me and I will always do my utmost to rise for Him.

~shygirl