thinking [advice: flow] thursday

There is this situation that I cannot quite wrap my mind around. I have tried various approaches, but nothing seems to make any difference. Neither honesty nor directness, not jokes or hints, neither questions nor conversation, not silence or blocking. Nothing! I cannot tell which way is up, right or left. It has been driving me crazy and the other day, I felt like I’d exhausted all of my options, so I decided to lay it all at Sir’s feet. He had been kept up to date, generally, but the specifics I held onto. Sometimes, I just really like to handle things myself, in my time, you know? I am almost positive Sir is fine with this, because He knows when it becomes too much, I will always go to Him. I went to Him (in writing) and laid it all out. Everything: Everything I was thinking and feeling. Everything I’d tried and said. Absolutely everything pertaining to the situation – big, small, happy, ugly. I told Him, I just don’t know what to do and was hoping He had a fresh perspective or advice.

Well, of course He did! Everytime I go to Him like this, I always wish I had asked sooner. Not because He necessarily has the answers (though many times He does) or because He magically fixes everything in my world, but because He makes me remember that I am not alone. Ever. For anything. He is so kind and optimistic – when my hope falters He always lifts it back up. However, when need be, He brings me back to reality.

This time, His reply was lengthy and overflowing with comfort, friendship and understanding, but He also insisted on some of those painful, hard truths. The insight He offered wasn’t shocking, but it was full of sad words that I needed (not wanted!) to hear in order to move forward in this topsy-turvy situation. I don’t want to share His words, but the pictures give the gist.

Advice, part one. (Pinterest)

Advice, part two. (Pinterest)


D/s is so much more than sex and protocol. It runs in our veins and saturates every cell in our bodies. Never have I felt the level of trust and understanding that I feel now, with Sir, my Husband. The hardest things to say and hear are the things that most desperately need to be let out… that is trust. That is love. That is D/s.

Happy Thursday.


pride (fast forward followup)

You survived yesterday.

Well, of course I did, it’s not like I was just going to die.

But there was a time you felt like that. I’m proud of you.

I love when Sir is proud of me, it’s kind of one of my biggest goals in life. Maybe that’s because I am submissive. Maybe it’s because, more than anything, I want to make Him happy.
Maybe it’s because I need the validation His pride brings.
Probably it’s a combination of all these things and more.
But when He said He was proud of me for surviving, for making it through a day, I wasn’t overcome with joy. In fact, I cried.
While it is true I made it through the day, I sure didn’t do it gracefully. I struggled so hard. I tried to stay busy. I was sad, so I cried. I was angry, so I sang. I was at a loss, so I got quiet – not wanting to talk, not wanting to be me. I put myself on autopilot and cursed my elephant mind. I might’ve had a few drinks in protest.
I was not proud of myself in the least! I was disgusted and disappointed in the ways that I coped. But I made it through. Of course I did. I always make it through things.
Why should Sir be proud of me, though?!
Because I functioned?
Because I planned, set up, and executed happy festivities on that day?
Because I didn’t scream or break things?
Because I didn’t sit in a dark room writing?
Is that something to be proud of?!
Maybe He was proud that I leaned so hard on Him?
That I was able to share my burden with him?
That even through the onslaught of emotion, I was able to stay somewhat rational?
I do know for a fact that the feelings will fade and that the day won’t hold as much power over me. This was just the first go-round and I am actively working to dissolve the memory.

I’m proud of you.

At first, I couldn’t accept His praise, because I was not proud of myself. But when the best I could do was make it through, Sir’s acknowledgement and pride in me bolstered my worth. (Well, that, and some hardcore sex.)

Thanks to Sir for seeing me through and not making me feel crazy. At the end of the day, I know that the storms usher in the sunshine. And sometimes, just the ability to make it through, ushers in hope. It’s been a long time coming, but I am feeling cautiously hopeful.

*smiles and exhales*



thinking [brief respite] thursday

I am kneeling on the bed, waiting for Sir to shower. Tonight, I cannot quiet my brain. I fidget with my hair. I crack my knuckles. I shift back and forth. I open and close my knees. I take loud, impatient breaths. I think about everything except what I should be focused on. I see the toys in front of me. I see His belt. I should be looking at this lovely, teasing display with delighted anticipation. I should be able to clear everything else from my mind. Most times, I can. Normally when I am kneeling, it is only Sir. It is beautiful and quiet and humble and right.

But tonight, I am a mess.

I hear the water shut off, and then the shower door open… I panic a little. I panic because, while I’ve technically done what I am supposed to do, I’ve only just barely succeeded. I am a disappointment to myself. But now I hear the shower door close, and I try to get it together but quick. I focus on what He is going to do to me, with me. I am as still as a statue. I take measured breaths. I try with all my might to get my head in the game, but I am struggling. Dammit. I’m usually pretty good in the clutch.

When He steps out, He will have questions and I want to be able to answer them honestly. I want to please Him with my obedience, with my humbleness, with my devotion. He exits the bathroom and asks, “Are you aching for me?” I quietly say Yes, Sir. You see, He made me ache all day, keeping me on edge, but at this moment, right this second, am I truly aching? I should be. I should still be dripping with want. But I have allowed my brain and heart to be consumed with things outside of Sir.

Sir hears my quiet answer and repeats His question. I try to speak a little louder, more convincing, but I’m pretty sure I add a mumbled ‘I don’t know’ in for good measure. I want to be honest. I have a lot of faults… sometimes I think I am only faults… but I try to be honest always. I hope I am not ruining this night, but Sir sees through me, He must know I am still in my sad swirly head, because He knocks me back on the bed and pins my arms above my head.

You are mine.

I mutter a quiet Yes, Sir (speak up, girl!)… Why am I still in my head?! Sir is right here, taking care of me, but I am worrying big over something I cannot change. Right now, I need to be taken away because I am starting to question my worth to Sir, too. I feel close to drowning in all the murky water of self-doubt – Out to sea in the cold, black ocean of despair. I’m not sure which way is up. I am treading water and swimming, because I have to ‘just keep swimming’ if I want to stay afloat. Sir tightens his grip on my arms, His face lowers even closer and he growls (I love the growly voice, I do).

You. Are. Mine.

I automatically say Yes Sir, but now, His words are the life boat coming to my rescue. I see the light. He is saving me from myself. I am not drowning! No, now I am floating in the clouds. Just like that. His words take everything from my mind. There is only Him. I exist in this moment for Sir alone.

He uses the toys and chokes me with His belt. The sex is mind-blowing, the orgasms rolling…explosive…plentiful. This night is raw and hard and glorious. I am settled for now, I am loved, I am content. I know that I may not be much of anything, but I am His, and that makes me the luckiest girl alive.

Happy Thursday.