Things

I wish I had a kinky story to tell. I'm lusting so hard for something...maybe ropes? Maybe some subtle ouches? I don't know. Maybe soon. Stoopid uterus.

In the meantime, the daily chore list is working really well. Except today. Today got away from me. In part, that's because I was freaked out about getting to an appointment on time, and arrived too dang early. Hopefully I'll be less worried about getting to those things in the future and won't use a whole extra hour I don't need there. Luckily, all that was left really was getting the upstairs vacuumed, and Master will let me just tack that onto tomorrow.

I really wanted to come here and write something...but I don't know what. We don't share much about our kids on here, though one end of me is completely wrapped up in parenting, while the other end is completely wrapped around Master and working hard on doing better and being better property...and then the middle of me is the artist, working hard to accomplish a thing...which I don't really write about here either. My life is ridiculously compartmentalized and sometimes I hate that.

I don't know if anyone who reads here would even be interested in any of my art projects... *sigh* I have my typical traditional style art stuff...and then I have a project I'm working on which I'm hesitating with -- I don't want to publish it under my given name -- but I also am not sure what name I would publish it under.

This is going nowhere and it looks like a <splat> with too many "ands," but I am just going to leave it this way.

FUNctional

I used the title (pun) in my last blog entry. Though that was technically the conclusion, I do have some more thoughts -- continuing to expand on that idea. Those of us who are in any flavor of BDSM relationships come to them with the partners they do because of similar interests, similar kinks, a similar descriptor of fun. If we aren't having fun, then we start heading into those murky waters.

Murky waters can be great places to learn lessons from, but it's a shitty place to live. I didn't do well in those murky waters, and it was my own doing that landed me there. Master keeps asking something to the effect of "What could I have done differently to have prevented the bad feelings you were having about yourself?"

The answer is, nothing. He was feeding me the positive things I needed, but I just kept sweeping them under the rug, rather than appreciating that in my valueless place as his property, I am invaluable to him. He continued to remind me that he loved me and despite (brain malfunction) he's in this for the long haul, whatever it looks like. I was ignoring what we'd already established about why O/p and BDSM turn us on and focusing on (essentially) what FetLife's "K&P" presents as "real" BDSM. Oh, the idiocy! There is no one true way, as many kinky bloggers have already established. So the idea that being absolutely still, absolutely silent, (because that's what ALL good slaves do, doncha know?) while my Sadist goes about his business is what I needed to do was...not for me. But I was the one doing my best to put myself in that box.

See? I finally do. What I was doing in my passive participation (holding up an ideal that was completely not applicable to me) was taking away my fun, and more importantly his fun, because he never told me to be still and silent. He never told me to not be myself, the way he sees his property. He never told me I couldn't reap something positive from the playtime we have. In that passive state I was undoing all the work he'd done to make O/p work for us.

In these realizations and musings...In the little changes we've made in the last week...Though I am as tired as I was the week before Thunder happened...now I'm excited about the potentials for getting into a little kink. The things I'm responsible for are done, I'm not overwhelmed, I'm not going to cry because Master is having to do things that are supposed to be my job (because they are done! I am so pleased and excited about that! Thank you Scott & kaya for your ideas and sharing. Er...and thank Master, too, because that is silly to forget, considering he's the fire under my ass.) My outlook has shifted back to living in a state of functional, and I'm ready for more.

Active Participant (part 2)

In part 1, I wrote about how I had stopped being an active participant in our Owner/property relationship.

Personal responsibility is something I believe in. Seriously: as a free agent (hah) I think making your decisions that manage your life, your well-being are the most important things you can do. People who own their decisions are my heroes. They don't have to always be right, and saying “I fucked up making that decision; I should have done the other thing instead” is praiseworthy.

In my blog entry titled “A new light,” which I posted in June, I mentioned that there were revelations over the last weekend in June that showed me why so much of our little world was not as right as it could be.

Master and I don’t get tons of time to connect. We’re attached parents and the number of people we trust with our little people is tiny, and they are equally busy. Master works, he has friends that sometimes he needs to spend a whole day with. And he doesn’t have the time to fix a broken thing that doesn't look broken. Everything that was wrong was wrong on the inside…hidden. Hidden inside passive participation.

He didn’t know because I didn’t say. I’d practiced passiveness to the extreme, and then was eating the personal responsibility I was not accepting (which is not a sufficient mental wellness food). I was also eating responsibility for things that weren’t my fault (which might as well be classified as a mental wellness poison).

So why wasn’t it as right as we could make it? Because passivity is death for me. I had refused to take my personal responsibility seriously by thinking that being a passive object was good enough.

If I flounder, mentally, physically, it is up to me to tell Master that I need help, before it starts feeding internalized negativity. I need to watch how I’m submitting to Master's wills, wants, and how we’re making use of our limited adult time. My submission can’t be passive. I can’t be passive. It’s why I love physical restraint in play – because restraints are something to fight against without fighting Master. I can take what Master dishes out to me – and I need it – but I can’t be passive. I have to be functional property; not a paperweight.

So, how do I take responsibility for that? How do I work to make sure that the tearing me down is also building me up?

Step one: Step up during playtime. Be active, let my masochist have fun with her pain, rather than cramming all of myself into a stillness that Master isn't forcing. Wiggle. Squirm. Laugh. Scream where appropriate. Gasp when I can't scream.

Step two: Write erotica more often. Let my imagination give forth new ideas, or make memories more vivid.

Step three: If Master asks how I'd like to play I should have some kind of answer. Not necessarily "I want this toy and that toy. Oh, and the other thing." But feeling words, like "I feel kind of animalistic" or words like, masochistic, sensual, and wild...

Step four: Realize that sometimes I am going to have to ask for validation when I need it. Master knows me well and usually gives me validation before I know I need it, but sometimes I might need a little extra. This is an important part of my self-care and self-responsibility.

Step five: Be willing to embrace the parts of my property-ness that aren't all about the fun stuff, because that enforces the whole of it, feeds the value, gives purpose to the roles and rules that we have he has chosen.

Passive Participant (part 1)

So this little world Master and I built ourselves looks pretty…vanilla…from the outside. We came out to some friends and they were floored. Like asked if they were being punk’d. And a week later, they asked if we were really into BDSM…that we weren’t pulling their legs, over and over, until Master showed them his FetLife profile. Master and I live hard, apparently secretively.

When we scene, the best scenes are the ones that are punching, kicking, screaming, crying…acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations. We play fucking hard, physically. Our next favorites are the psychological…again, acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations; we play with fear, with real terror. Master and I adore the verbal aspects of degradation too. I (and my cunt) think it’s fucking hot when Master is shaking me by the neck and using filthy words to describe my value. He tears me down hard. Not everyone wants what we want, not everyone builds their kinky relationship the way we have… Not everyone can do it. And there’s no judgement, because this shit is scary (awesome for us, but still scary).

Splitting my energy between our very vanilla appearing family life our adorable, highly chatty children; and Master’s expectations and our play takes a toll. Recently, I’ve been afforded a lot of leeway because of my girlie problems (hello perimenopause), the lack of energy, sleep deprivation and a string of not quite healthy emotional/brain stuff. I’ve needed his help. A lot. He doesn’t want me to feel bad because I need the help, but it would send me into a spiral of (not good) worthless feelings because I needed the help.

The whole thing has compiled (Master’s kindness and goodness, my own thought process problems, my own emotional pitfalls) into me loosing track of why we wanted a kinky relationship. I knew there was a good reason, but I couldn't remember it, and I think I was waiting for Master to fix me or just magically get better. After all, I am in an Owner/property relationship – I don't make the decisions. In that thinking I made myself not into functional property, but a passive object. I expected all the decisions to be made by him, all the fixes to be made by him, the mistakes I made taken out of my hands, all the kinky fun completely his fault or not (until I fucked it up because my [insert body part here] was hurting or seized and I hadn’t told him before).

I was full on engaged in passive participation. Master wanted something, I'd generally do as I was told. Slowly. Or stare at it. And while kids keep stay-at-home parents busy, I was letting the kids keep me busier than I really have to be. When we did get to play, Master would pull something out and start trying to feed his sadist and my masochist, but I didn't engage. I was just a physical object that was there. So Master would try to tear me down, serve up all the things we love about being kinky, and I was taking all that in without seeing the bigger picture. That we do this because we are invaluable to each other. Without taking care of myself. Which totally doesn't make a scene or playtime sexy.

Part of that was just my brain being knackered; the bigger part of that was me suddenly failing to shoulder my share of the responsibility for our relationship.

In part 2, the conclusion, I'll finish this out with personal responsibility in O/p relationships; and it is scheduled to post on Friday.