Flashbacks and Panic Attacks

I watched in shock as my vision narrowed into a pinpoint of light as if the shutters had closed the aperture. His hand squeezed harder around my throat, draining me of life. I made no effort to stop him, knowing I was going to die. All for a careless comment.

My life was his to do with. I lived or died by his actions. I was at peace and felt no fear, just shock of it all. This was going to be a senseless death. When he let go, he shoved me into the door and I barely sucked in air. Crumpled into the ground I went. My vision was still black, slowly turning into sepia shapes so blurry. I felt nothing, not even relief in being alive.

He let me go that time. Let me run back to my father’s house, to the illusion of safety. I never spoke of it till now. I can still feel the way his hand flexed around my throat. I can still feel him searching for my fear as he did. He craved that rush, that sweet hit of power, of control. And I knew it.

If I had shown fear, I’d be dead. If I had faked fear, I’d be dead. Acceptance pissed his ass off and he took it out on my body all the while trying to carve scars in my soul. He needed to break me before I found my strength. He failed in the end.

 

“I am not there”

The sting remains, clawing, tearing me apart
“I am not there” I whisper
Tears batter against the wind, the marks reappear
“I am not there” I whisper
Throat closes shut, choking as I gasp for breathe
“I am not there” I whisper
Light swims and twinkles fading into black
“I am not there” I whisper
Pain rings louder than my heartbeat, knowing I’m going to die
“I’m not there” I whisper
“I’m here in this now” I whisper curling my toes in the grass.

 

also posted here.
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Got the dancing ants

I feel like I’ve got ants in my pants.  I’m in the home stretch, six days before I board a train to the future.  One more day to play Tetris with packing.  I don’t even know when my next meal is going to be. Well, I could eat pizza for the next six days. I’m already sick of it. I’m ready to go. It feels weird. I’m going to miss this place. I’m only leaving with one regret; not being able to visit my mother’s grave one last time. But I know she’ll understand.  I know exactly where her soul is. And that little secret bubbles me with happiness.

Life is for living and loving. That is what makes everything so rewarding.

I would love to keep this blog updated on my progress but I won’t be able too. My phone is being a twerp and geeked out on me. Half my apps don’t work anymore. And sending in posts via e-mail while on a train – hehe- good luck! Maybe I can get Twitter installed on my phone again.

Here I am writing as if there was someone out there who’d worry about me. I know it’s silly but it makes me feel better.  I’m excited and I’m scared all at the same time. I wish time would hurry up as it’s going oh so turtle slow. I’m ready to leave this place that’s not my home anymore.

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Tiny Epiphanies

Huh. Forgiveness doesn’t take away the hurt. That’s time’s job. It’s just we don’t live long enough for time to complete it. What Forgiveness does, it takes away the stick we use to beat ourselves and others up with and sets it out of reach.

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Stress level – Grawlix

Do you know the story “Could be good, could be bad”? I’m feeling that sentiment big time today. Right on the calm edge of watchfulness, ‘could be good, could be bad.‘  I won’t say much about specifics as it’s about legals and our current situation of moving.

I’m just blinking hard at all of this. Stunned to the point where I want to ask the Universe, ‘just what did I do to piss in your coffee?‘ I am sure that this isn’t a personal issue between me and the powers that be. Funny how I personify nexuses of change sometimes as personal affronts to our being.  I’m fairly sure I am not the only person guilty of doing so.

Nexus of change. Hmm. I think I failed to do proper divination before spell work again. lol If only it was that simple. Well, let me get back to pulling out the furniture by myself. I’m still packing out.

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Some days you just have to say fuck it

It feels good to purge. All my pain let out. Slammed those proverbial cards on the table. Just it’s not a table, just social media and it’s not even cards, just an outflowing of poetry. I do wonder even though I wish I didn’t, I do wonder if he reads my stuff. If he does, hell I wince thinking about it.

It’s out in the open now. Timing wise couldn’t be at the most inconvenient for the both of us. Odd I am very aware of that. Now; getting him out of my head, not sure how to do that.

I’m not a good slave. I never have been. I’m not even a good submissive. It could be reasonably argued that I’m not submissive at all. I’m stuck in one world, that of on-line when what I want is in physical real reality.

And now I have to, for myself, commit to learning how to let go. It sure is a weakness of mine. Being poly I never really learned that skill. I just learned to adjust to a different relationship. I foresee that such won’t be possible.

That’s a pretty remarkable thought. It’s a hard limit for me to submit to an online Master. I find I must retain the use of no in such a relationship. I can do M/s play on the phone and via text. I can even make room in my life for such. But to turn over total control, that has always been the sticking point. And in some ways having the deeper conversations about limits and control felt unnecessary because it was already thrown as a strictly only online relationship.

All the while, I fell deeper in love and craved the physical touch, craved the physical connection. Fuck the play, I wanted the completion of intimacy. That is what draws me to this M/s D/s relationships. That total immersion into another person, that’s where I feel complete.

I understand to some degree what online play means. It’s a lot of wank fodder and setting up wank fodder and then the mind games, good god the mind games suck. Not to say all online play is just like what I experienced, but what I did see and feel makes me double leery on engaging in this ever again. Play wasn’t everything but it was the most of things and that alone was a problem.

And yet through all of this, I have to ask myself again – what is it that I am seeking when I continue to seek a Master? Perfection would be a poly man who accepted me and my family, had no problems with my husband, someone I could physically touch and be with, someone who I had built on a foundation of friendship and trust and could handle my immersion into him while balancing the rest of my relationships.

The paragon of virtue, chances are don’t exist. I almost met one. But the physical reality is not currently possible and chances are I’d lose my balance in his favor. Which is what I am doing everything to avoid. Abandoning my marriage is a non-negotationable limit. It’s not happening.

So what is left for me, with this yearning inside of me?

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Damn

There is a closet in my bedroom that holds far more than just stuff. I am finding the forgotten bits of me inside of it. Things and hopes past forgotten. It’s a dated closet. I know when I filled it with the things I thought I could not live without and promptly did so. My soul died when I returned back here. And I let it. I can see now how much I was heartbroken and hurt.

I’ve unearthed pain, untended wounds. I’ve been bleeding for five years now. I came back defeated, not loved, not rejoicing, not wanted but needed. Five years ago, I gave up and did so completely. I gave up on everyone and me.

I withdrew into myself. I rarely left the house. I barely go outside. I have no social life beyond what’s on-line. And even that isn’t much at all. I isolated myself from everyone but my kids.

I tried to work on me. Tried is the perfect word here as I think I failed at it. I found myself having far more unresolved issues that I ever knew. Yet I missed the biggest one that should have been staring me in the face.

All this time I’ve pretended that everything is alright and I’ve been believed. I don’t know what to do with this information. I’m packing up the house and accidentally unpacking me.

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Level 13

I hit a stress level of 13 today. I hurt all over. My head hurts. I still have the sads even if it was a fairly productive day. I smoked one cig I bummed off my sister.

I had to lay down mid-day just so I could calm down. I’ve been alternating between breathing and trying to talk myself off the ledge. I’m under pressure and totally stressed. I’m having trouble focusing and keeping on track. Takes way to long to figure out what’s next in this pattern.

It’s embarrassing to say but thumb sucking is helping me calm down. And no I was never a thumb sucker as a child. It was introduced to me as a calming tool. It works. I’m using it.

My emotions are all over the place. Nothing steady. Oh, I forgot to mention – I’m packing up the house as we are moving out of state. I’ve got about a week left to be packed out. And it’s only me working on all this. I don’t feel I’m handling this well. And it’s not like anyone can handhold me during this either but damn if I don’t want that.

I read something earlier day about, um ..staying the course, doing what needs to be done for in the present moment and just wait for the Universe to do it’s thing. I keep drifting back to it. It’s a calming thought too.

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