Tender moments


This was a big week, and seemed somehow very long.  Sir Raven brought me to work with her midweek, to City Hall, to support people giving testimony on the importance of literacy.  We got to sit on the balcony and look over, take pictures on my beautiful phone.  She got me starbucks, which was kind, since i woke up at 6am.  Then we went with her staff for a long lunch at Chipolte.  Yummy.

i didn’t nap all week.  I tried once, when she came home and i got her settled.  i asked her to come get me in half an hour and laid down in the dark bedroom.  She came to get me much later, kissing my forehead.  Sleepily, i asked her if was bad.  “No, baby.  You are never bad.  I don’t know why you worry so much about being bad.”  i padded out to the kitchen, finished dinner, and then was wide awake.  i’ve been sitting up late working each night, unable to sleep enough or well, all week.

Today, she put me down in my playpen.  She tucked me in gently, kissed me, made sure i had Jubilee, and turned on a show we listen to together.  i stayed woke, had to get up and pee, needed more juice in my sippy, needed to get tucked in again.  And again.  And a few more times.

i hadn’t realized how exhausted i am, until she made me lay down and at least rest quite a bit today.  Tonight, i thanked her.  Sometimes, she goes out of her way to be tender.  Today, she made me waffles, heated up leftovers, insisted i stay on my playpen and rest.  It was really needed, and i’m thankful.  ❤

No, Clarice, the lambs will never quit screaming

Nightmares still going on.  At top volume.  The kind that make you feel like you are stuck inside them and may never get out.

My mother has a starring role.  Of course.

During childhood, it was extremely common to hear such Motherly gems as-

“Get out of my sight. You sicken me. You disgust me. I curse the day I gave birth to you.”

It was so common, my brother and i would turn to each other with bored resignation, half listening for the part where we had to recite our admissions of ruining her life, like a bizarre Mass.  Of course, it was generally the case, that she would start out in a rage at my brother and it quickly escalated to “you kids are the reason why….”

So you had to kind of listen out, any time the tone started because it was best to be very busy doing something domestic whilst simultaniously being out of her direct reach.  This went on at least monthly until i was in my late teens, because i had gotten so good at pleasing and fluffing and pampering and never giving her any reason.  My brother was busy getting high, drunk, and hanging out.  He was quite happy to tell her to go fuck herself, and leave.  i was a girlchild.  No leaving for me.

The flipside of this maternal diatribe was no better.  It was the kind of intimacy that most people would associate with lovers, not mother and daughter.  But i didn’t know.  i was just happy to not listening to her screaming.

The in between part was hardest.  You’d get a sick feeling it was coming, and have to wait it out.

Once, after a really fantastic vacation, the only one we had ever taken alone, my arm brushed up against hers on the arm rest in between our seats.  That was it.  That was all it took to set her off screaming, that this was her goddamned car, her space, how dare i?  She actually got herself so worked up, she threatened to put me out of the car in the middle of Virginia in the snow.  It seemed to me to be a realistic threat, it had happened before that she put me out, though not in the snow.  Still.  i notice i still get nervous if my arm touches someone on the arm rest in a car.

Of course, deep down, on a cellular level, there is this unshakable conviction that had i been prettier it never would have happened.  None of it.  It is still what i think.

My brother and i would laugh about it, doing fantastical imitations of her contorted rage, smoke pot and recite her gems.  Rarely, she would invent something new enough and crude enough to smart.

We would warn each other when the tide was turning.

When i tried to escape, worse things happened.

Into adulthood, he would call me and say, “You were always beautiful, Sis.”

i have always had a different set of rules and feelings for everyone else.  i recognize that i was always a slave, that i have no chance of being in a different world, and the nightmares will always come knocking.  My doctor promised that the meds are to blame.  i just need to get through this week and everything should calm down.

Things i have not thought about in many years come flying up left and right.  Then there is the panic that led me to look and find something bad.  My mother and my kidnapper having a karaoke party.  At the end, my mother -who knows she is being recorded- says to her, “She is my baby. Don’t hurt her.”  Dawn replies, “That woman loves me.  She is never going to hurt me.” Ostensibly, Dawn has a new love, which is exactly what happened before when she was actively looking for me.   It was made just two months ago.  i shouldn’t have looked, and now its my fault for looking.  i haven’t heard those voices in years, except for nightmares.

And now it is all just screaming.

More Q and A from my favorite Butch Boi

1-texting with me or Facebookings with me?
Hmmm.  Texting, even though i feel bad for your Daddy having to read all of our texts.  Facebook lets us chat too, so i’m happy either way.
2- if Daddi let me visit you for 1 day what would you do with me?
Depends on the season.  For sure, i’d want to take you to some of my favorite happy places-Alice’s Tea House and the Schwartzman NYPL Library.  Alices Tea House is fantastic and the entire place is decorated in Alice in Wonderland and the food is amazing.  The Lions Building has an amazing gift store, one of my favorites in the city, and the childrens section makes me happy.  The original Winne the pooh and family live there too.
3- ifn you caught me flirtin with a guy (or girl) online, would you tell my Daddi on me? *smirk*
If i knew you had a rule in place about flirting, then i’d remind you that you needed to fix it.  Ultimately, though, if you were doing something i knew was against rules and would hurt you then i would tell.  i would tell because if your Daddy cannot trust us together, then there is no reason to let us play together.  And because i want you to be safe, so that means helping you be accountable to what you agreed to.
With all of that said though i think your Daddy seems really confident, comfortable with playfulness and sexuality overall, and i don’t think they would much care.  Or that is my impression.  i don’t believe in creating issues for anyone.
4- serious question… if a group was started on FB where experienced Dom/Dommes, subs/slaves etc. could share their knowledge with the inexperienced younger people who are trying to enter the world of BDSM – D/s- DD/lg etc , would you be interested in becoming a contributor and helping answer questions and educate these annoying little shits …. ahem , I mean the inexperienced over-enthusiastic little eager beavers ? (you can keep me on a short leash too cuz I am not as patient and sweet as you)
The short answer is yes, i would.  The longer answer is that i may not always want to deal with new people, and i think that many resources already exist.  i’m thinking you have some sort of plan, so yes, i’d help if i can.

Daddy Ira’s questions

1. If you could live anywhere where would it be.
2. Who is your favorite Disney character?
3. Do you like your little or your big side?
Just a few stupid questions I think I know the answers to the hard questions. Love you ❤
1.  If i could live anywhere it would be the hotel in Disney that you love so much or in Manhattan.  i like the upper east side.
2. Favorite Disney Character…and darn this is hard…but Cinderella.  She was always wearing a collar, happy to serve and care for everyone, just happier to do it in a nicer dress and shoes.  After that i have a real love for Winne the Pooh and tinkerbelle.
3. Hmmm…my gut reaction is to say i like my little side best because that is where i have an actual personality, am funny, silly, playful, and not only focused on work, work, work.  i don’t think my fully big side has much personality, other than being very warm and empathic and hard working-but there is nothing else to me really.  That being said, i’d pick any and all parts of me for a friend.
You know lots and lots. ❤

Spring, please.

i had the doctor yesterday.  i really like my pain management doctor and junior doctor.  i’ve gotten used to being there alone, though it took many months for that to happen.  i am comfortable enough to tell her i’m grumpy, having nightmares, meds messed up.

She assures me it is a normal side effect, all of it is, and she feels bad about the med delivery system that sucks, but that everyone is being pushed in that direction and away from a pharmacy.  She says it will take two weeks for me to feel normal again.

i feel too bad to point out it is memories coming at me at night.  i don’t need her thinking i’m crazy and even people that should know better do it.  Somehow, other people abusing you as a child makes them jump to the conclusion it is you.

It stormed most of yesterday, there is a wind advisory today, and snow with frigid temps tomorrow.  i’m thinking i need to do laundry today and just make it work.  Sir Raven let me order a few dresses and other little things, and my pretty Spring dress arrived.  Now, if Spring could just get here for me to wear it!



Strange happenings

So, i have been having a difficult time, since stupid express scripts messed up again.  i’ve been without one medicine for over a week, haven’t been allowed to leave the house for days because i couldn’t risk missing the delivery.  Sir Raven’s meds were messed up too, but after the third time i called, i managed to make them too scared to not let me go pick her meds up at Walgreens.

i had to wait for her to be at work to make that call.  Definitely not a pleasant demeanor going on.  They had left her without BLOOD PRESSURE meds for a week, and i was totally over being patient anymore.  By the end of that call, they had fixed it, and i was en route to walk to get her meds.

i finally got mine late afternoon.  One side effect of going off cold turkey is nightmares.  And boy have they been extra.

It’s not just nightmares, but memories, and so i fall asleep and am back in the shower when Dawn’s arm reaches in and grabs me by the throat.  My toes are desperately trying to find footing, slipping around, before i can grasp what has happened.  My brain slowly understands when her large hands and thick fingers easily hold me up against the shower wall and squeeze tight against my throat.  Of course, i never saw her grab me, and my head had been under the water trying to wash my hair.

She looked at me, her eyes shone like the glint of a knife under the moonlight.  Her voice was strangely soft, but deadly serious.  “The only way you leave me is dead,” she said, waiting for it to sink in, watching my eyes.  My chin quivered, my eyes huge, breath shallow, my hands are little birds in useless half flight.  Satisfied, she lets me go, slowly, making sure that i can stand up.  She told me to finish my shower, which i am doing with urgency.  Everything must be right.  Almost gently, she dries me off, and says, “You know what has to happen now.”  The lock is in one hand, her belt in the other.

Later, we laugh about it, when i tell her Norman Bates has nothing on her and that she is lucky i didn’t pee.

Night terrors leave me exhausted, weak, needy.  i spend a lot of time alone, feeling little, unable to focus and scared.  Angry.  i wake up and, for the first time in five years, don’t know where i am.

When i leave the house when Sir Raven is home, men talk to me.  It is as if i have a neon sign over my head.  i hate it.  i hate almost everything about it.  Men tell me to smile, tell me i am too pretty to be stressed, call me princess and little girl.  Its like the energy from me is turned up to high vibration and i can’t make myself small or quiet enough to feel safe.

Of course, in the midst of night terrors, and doing the best i can during the day, i smoke some here and there.  i feel bad about it.  i feel angry that no one can stop me, that the weight of everything is on me.  Always.

i try hard.  i do.  i try and be good, quiet.  very quiet.

i realize i hit up against programming.  Barb would beat me for going away in my head.  i would turn toward the television, look in that direction, let myself drift away.  But she would always know.  Sometimes, she would try and be nice, pause the movie and stroke my face and remind me that i can’t go away anymore.  She would give me another chance.  But within a few minutes, i would be gone again, unable to control it.  It would always make her beat me.  i’d say most of the severe beltings i got from her were directly related to me going away in my head.  i’d be covered in bruises from my ass to nearly my knee caps, and she would have to dress me for a few weeks and check to see that it wasn’t visible.  Once i was already that bruised, she wasn’t concerned about that anymore, and i got punished a lot more for it.

i go away in my head here lots.

Strangely, when i am stomping around in my head, the Bigs know.  i get a kind, “how are you?” text, the subtext of which is known to both of us.  He may as well write, “Where are you little girl?” like he used to when i was angry inside.  Even if i was sitting there in my spot on the sofa, doing absolutely nothing wrong, he knew.  Nodding, he would calmly remind me what i need, and i’d bargain for a way out.  “What if i can be good?”

What is very hard for me to understand is where this part of me hid-especially from me-until i was 18 and away from my mother.  When i was five, i was very serious, very quiet, always helping, looking for ways to help.  i would have been far too scared then to ever push back, to ever be naughty, to ever hurl stuffed animals in rage, say bad words because i was mad.  i felt very confident that my mother would kill me if i dared.  So the actual child parts, that can feel delight, anger, boredom, sadness-just didn’t exist until adulthood.

It can be hard.

i need a Little Vacation.  Seriously.  Just a few weeks of not having to get big at all, not having to worry about being hurt when the angry feelings come out, not having to stress about anything, treats, and more treats, and feeling happy to have happy good girl energy that i don’t have to endlessly monitor and make and fake-it-til-i-make-it.

Maybe its just the meds.