Getting out of bed isn’t so bad.

It’s been a good day. The morning is a bit odd. There exists a twinge of compulsion from Isa but I push it back. I’m forcing her to break protocol and in essence disobey. I refuse to allow her to submit again. It must go though me to her or not at all. As I am the highest authority in the system anything less is counterfeit and will be removed. I had to express that. It tastes bitter on my tongue still even though it’s been a good day. Better than good, actually.

The daily routines are holding well. Adding limitations was the trick. She would work until hospital standards were met. Her body would collapse long before that was achieved. In many ways she has no concept of when enough is enough or when to stop. I exist as her limiter, then rules, then what is physically capable. sigh I feel her behind my eyeballs at times. She’s given me a bit of a heart by sharing with her. It hurts now to be the bad guy even when it is necessary.

Our husband brought us home a bike. It’s nice. I haven’t ridden in over 20 years and I still got on all shaky. Now we are a biking household! Four bikes, four folks and plenty of time in the sun. This feels good. More inner-connection, more shared activities. And Saturday, I’ll fire up my Minecraft server and we’ll all play together. I may even stream that. Maybe. I’m undecided.

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I rarely talk about my relationships here. My boy Aries, oh he demands a lot of me! Long distance relationship though but we’ve known each other for a long long time. I provide for him what his wife does not, acceptance without judgment and control. (Now, you in the background who just choked on your drink, I see you.) He had chased me down for decades to be my slave. I had refused him so many times. How can I, do him any justice as a Mistress? How is he able to accept me switching out? How do I do this ethically? I still have a ton of questions. After I decided I would accept him, I called his wife and had a long chat and her blessings. There will always be limitations on this relationship because I am not a dick and have no intentions of destroying what he has.

And I have a ton to learn. I picked up Vile’s “The Breaking of Sabrina” ages ago. Fun read but more like a primer of everything not to do. I grabbed Malkinius’s “I Can Do This” and read it in a single night. That one left me with a lot of chewing thoughts. I found OWNING AND TRAINING A MALE SLAVE By Ingrid Bellemare and have been giving that look over. It really clashes with everything I believe about consensual enslavement. Oddly I don’t have a problem reading works set for Male dominance with female submissive and I think that’s because my boy is a bit gender-queer, kinda like me. I’m not finding much of value in Femdom and that’s perhaps I am revolted by the philosophy that our boys are worthless worms who are inferior to their Mistresses. I have learned to respect the strength of will it takes to be a slave.

Aries’ depth of patience and trust is incredible. It was him whom convinced me that we could do this. So he is mine and I do not take it lightly. So much more to learn and unlearn. I am learning to include him in my life on a daily basis. We are teaching each other. He needs the contact and I need him to be pleasing when he does as well as me being receptive to him in my life even at that level. He needs that touch of control more when his life is spinning out of control. I’ve seen how it calms him. And I still chuckle and shake my head at how all this has turned out. Aries was Isa’s first natural Dominant. He awoke in her the calling of her submission. And now I own him and he kneels for me. And who woke my inclination towards dominance: kindergarten and then in third grade a freckled red-headed little boy.

Life is indeed strange. I’ll be around more often. I may keep Isa devoted to poetry for a measure of time. We’ll see. wink

I need a decision tree.

How do you decide on which narrative is correct?

This has bothered me for sometime. At this point I refuse to assign blame and fault  in discussing the failed relationship with Dreamwalker. I am saying there were deep problems and perhaps they represent incompatibility overall. However, I am refusing to assign the narrative of ‘abusive Master’.

There is a couple of reasons for this. Being DID I am now far more aware how a single event can be interpreted thought a variety of lens and viewpoints that still do not detracted from the bare facts of the event. If anything, the lens add on nuisances of meaning that may not belong or may not be appropriate. It is this problem we as a system is wrestling with. How do we determine which meaning is appropriate?

When it comes to Dreamwalker, I am undecided when it comes to applying any label. Let me explain why before I am dismissed as being too Stockholm syndromed.

There was growth. That bothers me because growth occurs under specific circumstances, one of which does not include abuse. I keep getting the image in my mind of the emotions and plant growth experiment. The short of it is, the plants focused on negatively were stunted and sick and those plants focused on positively, flourished. This is an extremely simplistic viewpoint but I have to wonder where that applies to us as a system. Abuse would have stunted us. But we grew, so can I postulate that there was love?

I have to consider that due to our background of abuse and the regular testing (last six months) that I do tracking specifically my attachment style, (avoidant and detached: test here) that someone showing us love could be interpreted extremely negatively.

I know Isabella used one particular event that I can say was perhaps a case of misjudgment on his part. I could even extend that it might be an understandable misjudgment.  I know setting the narrative can set up confirmation bias. I know feelings isn’t facts. I know feelings change. I know how drastically different the same event can be interpreted as I battle with this daily with my headmates.

My biggest challenge is twofold. How do I honor the growth that I’ve gained from here? How do I determine which narrative is the truth?

The Oddity of Dreams

Last week I had a dream I still don’t know how to interpret. My dreams are often prophetic or informative. This felt different in a way I had not experienced.

When my father died over a year ago, I spent the next six months having nightmares. Each one reliving the days after my mother died. Each one reliving the abuse at his hands. Each one in perfect detail and recollection. And they hurt. Yet the dreams stopped as abruptly as they started and I breathed a sigh in relief.

Been almost over a year and then I had a dream about my father.  In my dream, I returned to the family home and saw on the door a child’s drawing and pictures taped to the side of the house. The fury and rage that coursed through me should have sizzled me awake or at least into awareness that this was a dream. I opened the front door to see my father alive, healthy and in good spirits. He was surrounded by other people, unknown people as kids ran around, in and out of the house. Even the home was different- bigger, more alive, farm like. There were even goats there in the back yard.

This wasn’t the same man. It was as if I was given a glimpse in the multiverse and saw a version of my father that had made all the right choices and was rewarded for them. Family, love, life, grandchildren, laughter all surrounded him. And I, I was a stranger.

In this dream, I didn’t exist. I nor my sisters were born to him. And I went out to pet the goats, bemused. I was drained of anger. That man was not the one I was angry at. Yet I live and am alive due to his wrong choices.  We don’t get to choose the why of things in life. We do get to choose what to do with the choices we have.

And the goats. Never forget about the goats. I used to dream of taking care of goats once upon a time. They are so cute! And my father had the stock phrase of someone “getting his goat.” I guess in that universe he kept all his goats after all.

The word of the day is: vulnerability.

I’m the drill sergeant of the house. I bring order and strictness and I strive to do so fairly. But I’ve stayed away, peaking in only when things reach intolerable levels. Mostly because lying in the past are huge issues between me and my husband. It’s hard for me to get past the idea that he hates me. I haven’t given him a chance to prove otherwise.

Last night I took my little ones back to school for the student-led parent teacher conference. I was just sitting on Isa’s shoulder listening in, chiming in with a comment now an’ then. My littlest was excited and exuberant to show off her work. But my oldest was solemn and already hiding things. Turns out she’s been having a very rough time of things. Because of the way her rough times showed, it was clear to me that this one responded better when I was fronting!

This really brought me up short. I have a lot of emotions just hidden under the surface. I talked to my husband about this. He understands and he also understands this is needed for her and has nothing to do with Us and him.

I have to bare my vulnerabilities openly now. And I pray, I hope and I wish my husband and my girls can accept me, even this part of me without rejection.

No One is an Island

Gratitude Friday

I’ve been thinking about how much this blog doesn’t cover religious topics often and it occurred to me I’ve actually been sharing one of my spiritual practices with everyone. Before I didn’t consider practicing gratitude to be a spiritual practice. I started doing this more as a self-corrective mechanism. I was drowning in overwhelming negativity in my life, to the point, everything was seen with a negative view even when it wasn’t intended that way.

I had fallen into a bad physiological habit. What’s the phrase; negative sentiment override, and that behavior just about destroyed my marriage. It was clear to me that I needed to make the effort to find things that were positive, daily. Gosh, looking back I recall how hard it was. I had to stretch it out to a week just to list five things. Now I can rattle off five things every day.

Sticking with this, I learned a great deal more about myself and the nature of happiness. It even helped me deal with compliments. Before I would squirm and be embarrassed about it, just about run from any situation that would end with a compliment. Now I can say with heartfelt meaning, thank you.

So at the end of this week, I have some broader based thank you’s that’s been a long time in coming.

Thank You Drs. John and Julie Gottman. Your book The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, I found just in the nick of time and saved my marriage. Yours explained why things were they way they were. Out of all the self-help relationship books I read, yours was the only one that gave a thread of hope.

Thank you, my husband. When things were at the bleakest, you never quit. We tied our lives together out of sheer stubbornness and when tested, it held tight.

Thank you to my in-laws, in particular ,my father-in-law. The phrase “it’s not over till the fat lady sings” will always bring a chuckle for you saw more than you let on. I appreciate you had my back even then.

Thank you Dreamwalker. You’re quite a pain in my ass. Infuriating, puzzling and down right madding most of the time. And I get the feeling now our paths are diverging. You’ve been a mentor to me for a while now. When I needed my nose forced into the grindstone, you were there to do so and you didn’t do it kid gloves on! I appreciate that.

And Thank You, my readers. I’ve had the pleasure to share with you parts of my life and hear your thoughts as well.

Oh, one last Thank You, I get my girls back from the grandparents tomorrow! I miss my babies. They had a month of hanging out with the grandparents and I am grateful and happy that soon they will be back.

May you find joy and happiness; for life is best lived with joy!

Back to My Core

Ah shit, where do I want to start this one? I’m going to be very naughty. I’m jumping into my time ship and rolling back the clock. I’m going back to the past to have a chat with a little girl.

I keep getting told to let go of the past, to stop looking back, to stop focusing on it. I think that’s wrong. At least it’s a misunderstanding of why I look back. Or maybe they feel threatened by my searching in the past. Whatever it is, this is what has worked for me.

I look back to find the scars that need healing. I look back for myself, not to find shit to bring back with me and smear all over my future. I look back to bring understanding and love to the child I left behind there. I’m in the business of loving and growing the child I was.

There is a lot I want to tell her. Most of it, she already knew but kept forgetting as she got lost along the way.

There is no doubt that I’m the child of flawed, damaged and hurting human beings. I have no doubts that my father was a narcissist and that my mother shared some traits of narcissism as well. I know my mother was a product of childhood sexual abuse, dysfunctional family and a good chance a daughter of a narcissist as well. Out of my two parents, there was only one who believed in change, my mother. She had hope and it was this single element she passed on to me. I believe this alone has made all the difference in my life; hope for positive change, to always be growing, to stand when one has fallen, to keep going no matter the odds.

I can trot out various clinical terms to address my condition but what’s the point? Labeling it only helps explain it and lets me know I’m not the only one to go through this. I’m more interested it fixing it, not with band-aids but with lasting positive change.

wee wee wee Let’s slide back into time, all the way to when I was six months old. Yes, I have a single memory at six months. It’s only identified as six months because of a long conversation with my father in which he was able to identify the home I was in from my memory.

Kurcha kurcha did the spring clank, turning it’s handle as I rock in the swing. I’m looking up watching the handle and the sound, staring at it for a long time. It’s remarkable. It’s the only sound to be heard. The light coming in is warm, the colors of the room are soft. I’m comfortable and yet not. But it’s often like this, the kurcha kurcha kurcha rocking me, lulling the cries from me. I’m alone.

Just a serious of complex emotions, that now I can put into words. I was utterly Alone. No expectations forth coming, just the awareness of how alone I was. Where was mom?

I’ve wondered this many times. I don’t have many memories of mom before I was four. There are a few but mostly it’s other people, other family. I don’t recall a caregiver. When I look back, I kinda feel like I sprung up like a fully formed adult in a child’s body. How is that possible?

I do wonder how much I was neglected as an infant. Even my mom recorded that I slept through the night and every night thereafter from the first day home from the hospital. I’ve got two kids and they have never slept through the night, at least not till after they were six months old. My kids have been demanding. They want food, a clean hinny, to be held, to be cooed at, to explore, to hear my voice, they want to be a part of it all and then they sleep just to wake and do it all over again. How could I have been so different?

What if I was the same, wanting that interaction and found it not forthcoming? What would happen to that infant? Is that what happened to me?

I need to cuddle up and pull the me that I was out of the swing and cuddle her close and tell her, she’ll never be alone and that she’s loved.

The Week That Was

Gratitude Friday

Oh goodness. It’s been a heck of a week! If a lifetime can be packed into seven days, this was the week that was. I’m not sure where to even start a recap. I’ve been on G+ way too much! The outpouring of poetry that’s spilling out of my soul has swamped my G+ wall. I need to copy all of it to my poetry blog. I’m really glad I’m writing poetry again. It’s been over a decade since I’ve had this much coming out. It’s taken a bit of following in other’s footsteps to get that muscle working again. But it worked and now I’ve got a flood just pouring out. No way am I sticking the stopper in it again!

With my girls visiting with grandparents, I’ve worked on a lot of internal projects. In the process, I’ve lost myself, found myself, deeply felt every emotion, cried my eyes out and found something I wasn’t even looking for. That was actually last week. Much of it continued through this week too. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a nutter, okay, never mind, I know I’m a nutter; I had an experience that I can only describe as mystical touching of the Divine.

The hard part to accepting this experience is I want to share this so much. To share the joy of this and I found I could not. Not because of fear, I have lost that but because my loved ones lack understanding of me and well just me. The only person I desperately wanted to share this with, well, was not receptive is an understatement. It is a worthy lesson.

However, I refuse to let other’s actions diminish the joy and happiness I found. I am happier than I have been in a very long time. I’m smiling so much my cheeks hurt. I am laughing and cracking jokes with my husband. I can feel the twinkle in my eyes! My heart feels so much lighter. It’s left me dancing!

Oh, joy abundant and overflowing!

So, onward to the joys of thankfulness;

Thank You for leaving the footsteps I followed. I may have been miles behind but each step brought me closer to me and taught me lessons along the way.

Thank You for my insanity. I know, that’s odd. Yet It’s me and I’m really glad to be just me, not some other mask that’s worn, not some pale shadow of a woman, not some appendage of another’s personality.

Thank You for all of life’s joys. Oh, these joy’s make all the pickles of life worthwhile.

Thank You for Music! Oh, yes, music. To get lost in the sounds and words that move the soul brings me a joy, a happiness.

Thank You for my Men in my life. I know, oh I know how difficult I am to live with. I’m stuck in my own head 99% of the time. Yet all of you have stood by me, held my hand when I needed it, offered comfort when I asked and have continued to prove your love for me just by being you. You are all my safe harbors when my ship blows into your ports. Thank you for being what I’ve needed. I am loved, so very much loved. I love you all.

grins Now as I end this, let me encourage all of you to go out there and love. Take a risk and love.

Oops, one more thing. Check out this artist, Aurora.