C’mon Bessie, Just a Little Farther

Yesterday I was sent to my room for being an argumentative cranky slave. I’d reached the end of my tether, so there I was, hooves dug in to the deep earth, head down, backing out as hard as I could. There was N, holding on to the headstall and crooning to me, coaxing me, shaking the bucket of oats and murmuring “Just a little farther, tora. Just a little farther.”

Uh-uh. Ain't goin'. Oh, you have apples over there?

I might have said it before, but I’ll say it again: It’s just N and I. There isn’t anyone we can reliable count on to have our backs, other than each other. While I’m cool with N having me to rely on, I don’t want to burden Him with all of me. And really, I want both of us to have a breather space where we can just step back, take a deep breath, and have room to hug. That’s not our reality right now, and I was harshly reminded of it the other day. I looked into the future and realized that it won’t get any better. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go through my life, and N’s always been there. While we can depend on each other, there isn’t anyone we can depend as a couple.

It can be a bleak life at times. We don’t go out much. We don’t have folks in. Its hard to celebrate big dates. Its hard to find times for us as a couple. Its hard not to let life grind us to dust.

Somehow He always manages to coax me into going a little farther. He can convince me life is better just beyond that hill, just beyond that month. He soothes me and tells me that if I just lean on Him, let Him lead, if I trust He knows the way, we’ll get by.

He’s been right each time. I haven’t died. I haven’t even lost my mind that much.

So yeah, He might be the only person I can rely on, the only person who is down to ride n die with me. And you know what? He just might be the only person I need. Because I sure as shit don’t have anyone else, and yet I thrive, grow and live underneath His thumb.

Each time I dig my hooves into this black gumbo earth, it takes Him less time to soothe me back to complacency. I’m hoping that at some point before He dies I’ll learn to just keep plodding along and not need the full stop snitfit anymore.

I really don’t like timeouts. I also don’t like when He charges at me from across the room. I’m sure those are also pretty convincing reasons to stop.

 

So in honor of being the only people we can rely on:

Nothing Else Matters by Metallica

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don’t just say
and nothing else matters

Trust I seek, and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
but I know

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
but I know

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don’t just say

Trust I seek, and I find in you
Every day for us, something new
Open mind for a different view
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they say
never cared for games they play
never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
and I know

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No, nothing else matters

Coasting (1/01/2011)

Dictionary.com defines coasting as “to continue to move or advance after effort has ceased; keep going on acquired momentum”

That is what the past two months of my life have been.

Life in this house has been stressed, to say the least. The holidays are not always a time of beauty and love for many of us, and for me it is magnified by having to leave the comfort and security of my house and traveling at least 1000 miles round trip. Doing this as a couple was easy-peasy and we looked forward to it…doing this with three small pre-school children is self-abuse. On top of that add money issues from trying to stabilize after the bankruptcy, the stinging defeat of two positions I ran for in my volunteer work and general bickering amongst family, and you have a toxic stew of unhappiness and inattentiveness.

Nick’s reaction to overwhelming stress is to rely heavily on my internal enslavement that is already established and expend less effort on active Ownership to focus more intensely on solving or grappling with whatever has come up. This is fine for short-term situations; I feel honored that He trusts me enough to expect me to continue to perform to His standards after His direct involvement has lessened. Unfortunately, lately it went beyond short-term and I began to struggle with His lack of active Ownership. The base of our O/p dynamic began to crumble as I stagnated and the IE started to erode. When I feel the beginnings of the decay I tend to react with a sharp uprise in resentment and outright civil disobedience. It’s my flawed last-ditch effort to draw attention to the fact that we’re off course and doomed to hit the shoals if He doesn’t start steering soon. (I’ve been broken of the need to jump for the steering wheel…that NEVER ends well)

Our last-ditch effort came about while we were on holiday in Arizona for the Christmas break. Being out of my routine, in unfamiliar surroundings, with Him still asleep at the wheel…the last of my resolve dissolved and I started running amok. Back talk. Balking. Lashing out. At one point when He inadvertently hit me harder than expected while trying to get my attention I threatened to hit Him as hard as possible if He ever did it again. And I meant it, not like a playing mocking tone, but in a very real “bad things will happen if You do that” way.

You can easily see that no good could come from this.

We were adversarial by the time we made it back home. I was angry and resentful, feeling abandoned and insignificant, untrusting and nearly aggressive in avoiding Him. He was also distant and snappish, easily irritated, disinterested in sex or vanilla intimacies.

I mourned the absence of what we had. I spent a few nights awake trying to figure out where I had gone wrong, where I had let in the decay that separated us.

So one morning I woke with a new resolve. One does not inspire leadership by challenging each move…I vowed to be submissive to Him, without any prompting, to be unresisting, to be more pleasing, to remind Him why He took the lead in our relationship to begin with…

I doted. I devoted. I lavished attention on Him, played geisha to Him and struggled to curb my impetuous anger and presumptuous thoughts. What could this dying effort hurt? I was already in pain and sadness…what could showing Him these things, being revealed and raw to Him really do now?

His inner dominance awoke to my more docile self. He saw my pain and confusion, felt my loss and anger, and responded. He began to make His way to the wheel and was reading the maps. And suddenly He went “How the fuck did we get here?!”

Damnit, I *knew* we were supposed to turn at Albuquerque!

The past week has been a time of self-awareness and discovery on both of our parts. I have discovered that languishing for His dominance is nowhere near as effective as inviting it; He’s discovered that in making me what I am today He has shouldered more of the burden of Ownership than He initially thought. It was painful, lonely and I hope we never have to do it again. We still have our moments, where I get defensive, waiting for Him to pull away again, and He has His moments where He fully expects something from me that withered away without His direct nurturing.

He’s made changes that will hopefully get us back on track. I’m trying to hold a positive outlook on His renewed attention. He has goals for us, a way to ensure that we don’t decay like that again. While I welcome His full return, I still resent times when my leash is shortened. I have grown accustomed to Him not caring, so for Him to poke His nose in and stir shit up again makes me a little edgy until I re accustom myself to it.

And if we do run off course, I’m grabbing the wheel. A little coup d’etat might encourage Him to not let go of the wheel next time.

Want vs. Will Do (04-15-2010)

i want to call Him and be crabby, petulant and snarly. Instead i write here and keep my mind busy with a game.

i want to avoid contact with Him and refuse to met His eyes. Instead i will look directly at Him and say “welcome Home” without adding “motherfucker” to the end.

i want to fight with Him, tangle with Him, to have my anger boil over. Instead, i will kneel at His feet and squeeze my eyes shut tight.

i want to accuse Him of many shallow things that aren’t true because i am hurt and can’t shed it. Instead, i will hold my tongue from falling out of my stupid head and learn restraint.

i want to give up on being His slave tonight and just pretend that my life doesn’t have to be this hard. Instead i will hope like fuck He knows what He is doing and swallow that bitter pill when i don’t get my way.

If i could wish for anything, it would be to find a way past this goddamn brick wall standing right in fucking front of me. i mean, two fucking weeks left and i still cannot let go. What is it that hurts me so about this situation? For a person who can never shut up and can often think of at least two synonyms for many words, why can’t i explain it to Him in a fashion that He will understand?

So instead, i will sit here, waiting for Him to come home. i will be quiet, i will be pensive, i will be timid because i can’t be what my brain screams for. i will swallow my gall, bear the burning stain of my misery and try to remember to breathe. As a slave, that’s all i really can do.

Warning: Not-very-good-slave behavior described within! (04-08-23010)

Now that i got that pesky warning out of the way, onto the subject matter for today.

i have been in a vicious headspace the past few days. Looking back, i would almost venture to say a week. i’ve been restless, snappish, tired and irritable. i’ve had completely random thoughts of deliberate disobedience pop into mind. i’ve (barely) bit back harsh names and ill-tempered insults hurled in His general direction. Seeing my weight shoot into the stratosphere hasn’t helped the mood. Seriously, i gained 10 pounds in one week.

i’m sure everyone else has already put the clues together, but i was at a loss as to why i felt this way. During my few lucid moments, i would look back at the day and wonder what the hell was wrong with me. i wanted to be a slave to this Man, so why was Him telling me to do the dishes leading to me sitting on my hands to not reach out and throttle Him? When i wasn’t suppressing the urge to scream at the top of my lungs and lunge for His throat, i was berating myself for being such a shitty slave. Two-fer special, ya dig.

Of course, in classic N style, His answer was to withdraw. Guaranteed to make me go from mildly pissed to homicidal in no time flat. If i start to come unraveled, He refuses to engage me. If i am unable to catch myself in time, i’ll totally come apart. Uncunted, in a horrible fashion. He’ll just ignore it, refuse to acknowledge the behavior, deny my urgings to engage on any kind of level with me. Once i’ve finally exhausted myself, lathered and heaving in a mental sense, He’ll saunter into my head and say “Done?” i know the outcome every time, but i still get absolutely furious when He does it. Could it be done some other way? i dunno. i’m not the one in charge of finding out, and i am not sure if He does it this way because He’s too fucking lazy to figure out a more effective tactic or He really thinks this will get us somewhere.

So. Anyway.

i had gone through the trouble of writing a blow-by-blow account of the argument that ensued after i came home and got ready for bed. Then i deleted it. It doesn’t really matter, honestly. i can sum it up for you pretty damn easily:

Tipsy, PMS-‘ing slave comes home and gets ready to crawl into bed, Owner starts acting like a passive-aggressive whiner (excuse me, Whiner), lectures said slave about something slave doesn’t really give a flying fuck about, Owner kills the buzz the  slave was enjoying, slave lashes out at Owner, who’s smug “neener-neener” attitude digs at her more than Glenn Beck, Owner doesn’t really answer any of the retaliatory questions slave has, both go to bed irritated and suppressing the urge to smother the other.

Last night, i said to my friend that we were both too fucking stubborn to leave. i’m pretty sure i was right. i also said that one of us would end up dead before the relationship ended. i’m pretty sure i was right about that, too.

The fact that He didn’t reach over and smack the shit out of me is either a testament to His patience or a sign of apathy. The fact that i didn’t beat the fuck out of Him is either a sign of my devotion to Him or my immense stupidity. i haven’t figured out which one it was for either of us yet.

i foresee a tense regrouping in my future. Battle lines are being drawn, walls are being buttressed. i can feel that stupidity in me, multiplying, crowding out the logical thoughts, urging a coup, wanting to wage war. My teeth are gritted, muscles clenched with stress, desperately working to overcome this uprising in my head. i don’t know if i will win.

i read a saying the other day on FetLife that resonated with me: every Master gets exactly the slave he deserves. i’m going to try and keep that in mind as i work so frantically to quell these thoughts. Because, if the dam should break and i finally lose it, i won’t stand alone in the rubble and shoulder all the responsibility myself. Nuh-uh. There have been warning signs of impending collapse. Shots across the bow. Statements of intent. If The Man doesn’t deign to assist me in keeping my shit together, doesn’t see a need to reinforce the dynamic as He wants it, well, then:

Every Master gets exactly the slave he deserves.

Change is in the Air (03-16-2010)

It’s spring, folks. The calendar may not agree yet, but the snow is melting rapidly and the rivers are flooding just as fast. It’s muddy and gloomy and wet, the wind dances from side to side, there is the undefinable scent of shifting seasons in the breeze.

i’ve always been a person tied to the seasons. Summer finds me optimistic, energetic, raring to go. Fall charges me to stock and hoard, canning and drying food, digging out blankets and cleaning the house in preparation of cold weather. Winter creates a sluggish me, reluctant to leave the warmth and safety of my cozy hidey-hole, introspective and dark.

Spring, however, has it’s own clutch of fun. i’m excitable and fractious, prone to hi-jinx and sassy misbehavior. A slap on my ass might find me quickly returning in like kind. A command from Up High is often met with teasing compliance. And, just sometimes, i get mired down in mental mud and really don’t know when to shut up. (i know, me, being disobedient? perish the thought!)

i could sense the spring tora rising this weekend. He’s been in an ass grabbing mood lately, sometimes lil pinches, sometimes caresses, sometimes big ol swats that make me yelp and jump. i never know which of those it will be until He’s already done it, so i’m a little twitchy right now when He walks behind me.  Saturday He had been a monster, molesting me whenever the chance presented itself, and i was becoming quite annoyed with the whole deal, especially when trying to get supper on the table while avoiding 6 busy children. So, He cracks me on the ass as i’m pulling dishes out of the dishwasher, and without even realizing it, i shot up and thrust my arm out to hit Him back.

i just about died as i came to my senses.

It must have been funny to see, i shoot straight up with every unthinking intention to hit Him back, and right before the point of impact i come to and flap my hands stupidly, trying to shake the stupid uprising out or something, flashing my smile of appeasement and avoiding eye-contact. He watched the whole thing, laughed and sauntered off.

i don’t know what was worse, the fact that i still have a section of my brain that will try and clobber Him, or that He finds that amusing. Not threatening, not interesting, amusing. Is there anything more infuriating than staging an coup and being brushed off like a pesky fly?

i’ve been trying to lure the slumbering sadist out of Him again. It’s like there’s this tiger sleeping in its den, quietly dozing, and i’m prancing about in front of the entrance wearing a ground beef bikini. While washing my hair with bacon grease. Can i scream “i’m stupid and want You to hurt me a lot!!!” any louder?

Teh dumb. i haz it.

i’ve promised Him that at some point this summer, i will wait until we are outside and He is busy with something. i will come up and haul off and crack Him as hard as possible. Then start running. Again with the infuriating, because He just smiles. There’s a gleam in His eye that tells me He will relish that moment. A bit of a smirk around the edges of His sensual lips that suggests He doubts i have the balls to do so. A whole history’s worth of experiences that promise me any action on my part will be ruthlessly crushed on His.

Change is good, wakes us up and reminds Him why He took me. A certain ground-line of stability is also nice. 😀