Ouroboros Moments

A month ago I sent a letter. I set today as the day I stop looking back, stop waiting and I move on. It seemed sensible at the time, in case I was wrong and all I had to do was reach out. I knew the dice was more against me than for me. It is what it is.

I’ve spent the month moving on, working towards my future heedless of this date. I’ve mostly had. I miss him, that’s unlikely to change. I operate on such a long span of time that months and years have little meaning. In the quiet and stillness, what is there to disrupt the heart of my relationships? Time is unable to curl icy fingers around it for I refuse it that power.

I choose the date twenty-five on purpose. I’ve spent the last twenty-five days contemplating the meaning of that and all of this. I am at peace with this outcome. Somewhere, out there, is the one I seek.

To Sir, With Love

I once carried my scars like a blanket held tight around me, protecting me and keeping me in agony. This day, my Sir, I am letting go of that blanket to stand as I am, flaws and all, a whole being who still breaths in happiness and exhales Love. I’ve learned that I was always whole. All that I thought was brokenness was the agony of healing and there is still more to do. I run into it now, into the pain of freedom, into the agony of choice and into the thorns of Love. I will bleed and I will dance and laugh lifting my hands to the stars and Moon and skies above. I once carried my scars and now I will dance on the blanket made from them. 

~ always yours.

 

Always Keep Smiling

Signalling…which are you?

Snapshot_052

The fun thing about Second Life is that in many ways it’s just an over glorified chat room. I’ve gone to so many discussions over the last two weeks my poor brain inside this skull is spinning. Don’t look..seriously.

Through it all I picked up on a theme, signalling. There was one about clothing or lack thereof as an aspect of the power exchange dynamic. In turn, it has me wondering and now I need to ask, how do switches signal which headspace they are in. In fact, there was a bit of a discussion that covered that a bit too. And now, I am wondering, because in SL, I have less ways of signalling which one of me I am. It’s bumped up into some interesting issues.

We have our own accounts for the most part. Okay, a few lost their passwords and email address! The more computer savvy has their own accounts…good. good. Moving on. Just like in physical life, one body, one too many headmates and it happens in SL. Yes, this is a case of a “Damn it, Autumn.” She has her moments of prowling the Femdom sims and attracting a number of pursuers and drops them in my lap for caretaking. I don’t know what the hell to do with them! I couldn’t blame any of them for screaming “bait and switch”.

But how do we do it, signal our headspace? I know it’s normally our body language and speech inflexions and whatever else gets picked up. My Aries and my husband have gotten good at telling the differences. I only tend to catch it after the fact and most of the time, I get told. Funny, it’s sometimes a blur of whose who somedays. The hard division isn’t so common anymore. I kinda miss it but I know it isn’t the healthiest thing to want.

Speaking of that, me and Autumn…chatting on voice in SL…and rapid switching…let me tell you, Ouch!! Earned a splitting headache over that. Never done that before and I don’t recall that level of rapid switching before. We’ve been working together for a bit now so it’s kinda smooth in how it goes. But that…that was painful. It needed to be said and I get that. What I don’t get is, why the headache? I’m glad that didn’t roll into the migrane territory.

We need to figure it out. I don’t want to wear a spinning button but figure out something might be nice. Or else I’m gonna have to figure out what to do with these…suiters.

“Damn it, Autumn!”

What Sort of Arrogance is This?

Ever see that person walking down the street and you know they need a hand? You decide to offer and for a moment, your heart gets stuck in your throat because you are for sure they are about to refuse. The Universe blinks out and is recreated at that moment, an eternity of time before a choice is made; before you know if you’ll be sharing a burden and it’s all hung up in your throat.

Most of the time, I’m the one walking down the street. I’ve been that one who’s refused help time and again and I’ve watched those eyes drop in pain too. I’ve wondered, if sometimes, if it was them who needed the help more than me. Would it have harmed me to have shared in those moments? Or would it have harmed them?

Perhaps it’s my upbringing, I keep to my own counsel about most things. When I do reach out, it is a deliberate and researched choice. I am aware that knowledge has power. So I measure out what others know of me. I’ve become to understand that the powerful are also the most isolated, insulated, unknowable people and it is a strange sensation.

I see power as a triumvirate: knowledge, will and ability. All of this my brain pours out just as a musing on what makes me even dare think I am a Domme, or at the very least, (I do mean the least), think I have the potential of being a Domme. I’ve spent weeks chewing on what being a switch means to me. I’ve done the same with the idea of slave. But I had not stopped till now to chew on what it means to be Domme.

I have no skills in throwing a whip, or foreplay with rope. Spankings with a spoon on the other hand…handy. I can snap a half decent towel on skin too-half the time. I was skilled ages ago in ball tapping, just enough to bring one to their knees. sighs The things I learned on request… My Kinks are decidedly vanilla. It’s my remote and yes, you will put the toilet seat down again. And when I get up on some crazy madcap adventure, you are going with me and we’re gonna go have a blast! I don’t want to hear grousing about it being a convention or that you’ve seen that movie a hundred times already, or that it’s a scam-yes I know it’s a scam but I’m gonna have fun with the salesman, just go along with it and play the straight man for this comedy routine.

And when I drag you in a back alley, do not freak out on me or freak me out. If I want to have a pillow party, just ask which ones…the feather or the cheap ones. Dinner parties are always in costume. Just don’t ask where I got the outfits. Tea parties, yes, help me make the cakes and sandwiches and yes do drink the tea with me as we put on airs and extend our pinkies and dissolve into giggles. And when I run through the baby toys in the store and set off each one…or get lost on one…this is normal-for me- so stay and play. I’m showing you a side of me the rest of the world will never see.

My Domme feels so very different than what it looks like to me in BDSM. If you meet her and she takes you by that hand and says “Let’s do this!” know this; she is fulling expecting you to agree and be up for any adventure. For us, for her, being a Domme isn’t about wielding power. It’s about having permission and authority at the same time.

I do not know if this is an aspect of having DID and being a switch or not. I do wonder how different it is for us with DID.

Letting in the Light

Me, writing my digital life away!

Last week a friend in Second Life suggested I write out a “Owner’s Manual” and the idea has taken root, rolling about in the marbles of my mind. I think it would make great posts or I might risk boring and alienating my readers.

It’s a toss up! Maybe I just need to write one so I know how to operate myself better. How’s that for an idea? Insert coin into slot, push start and yank back on the joystick to going flying. Oh, wait. I’m not airplane. Awe, shucks. It couldn’t be that easy, now could it?

This week and last week…a fortnight’s worth of time, I’ve been chewing on being a switch. I had folks say Isa is most defiantly a slave in personality. But then, right now, I’m not slave at all, not even submissive. I’m running about Femdom sims and I don’t quite fit in there either. It’s the stereotype that rubs me wrong; of the bitch, of humiliation, of belittling the subs, of degradation. I wasn’t that kind of slave and I’m sure as hell Not that kind of Domme.

I married a brat! I can not be that kind of Domme. I love laughter way too much. I love a good prank and a good revenge chase. I love the playfulness that can develop between and man and woman. It’s special, at least it’s special to me.

Yet, I am still a switch. I know that somewhere, out there exists a person who can inspire again us to kneel. I know now how precious that is. This time, I am learning to master me and in a way to be a Domme, my style of Domme. I’d rather inspire obedience than rule with a fist. I’d rather kneel because I was inspired to do so. I guess, I am becoming the kind of Dom/me that I would prefer to have, at least bit by bit.

I found my yardstick upon which to measure myself. My mind wanders back to one of my favorite stories of the Buddha, the mother who asks Buddha to tell her child to stop eating sugar treats. As the story goes a mother approaches Buddha and asks for his help, so that her child would stop eating so much sweets. Buddha tells her to return after some period of time and to bring her child then. When she returns, Buddha takes her child aside and speaks to them and convinces the child to stop. Though thankful, the mother asks Buddha why he couldn’t do just that the first time. To which Buddha replied “Before, it was I that was still consuming sweets.”

I keep this in mind, that I need to be mindful of what I ask others of me, to make sure that I am avoiding asking them to do opposite that I am doing.

Hehe, that’s all I have for today. Keep on Smiling.