The Ego, the Id and the Super Ego

The time is drawing near for the girl to return to FL. She feels that she should not have to go back, I on the other hand know that she has to. There is business she has to take care of and although some of it can be done via the web, there is some that should be taken care of in person. She has a flight out of NY this Friday. I would be lying if I said that I wouldn’t miss her, I will but I also know that we cannot put some things off and those things have to be taken care of before we can move forward.

The Goddess has brought hurricane Sandy to New York (which I think is disrespectful to call a hurricane; I mean really Sandy? Try Sandra). Any who, I’ve had a few days free from work before this and it looks like I’m getting a few more. So, thanks Hurricane Sandra we will be able to spend more time together, doing art, talking smack and drinking wine.

Here’s a peek into what goes on in our home:

She sits on the chaise lounge and I on the love seat across from each other, her on her computer me flipping from channel to channel and writing. This evening after the hurricane we sit around and paint together looking at the history channel, a program called the men who built America, and the Big Bang Theory. When the narrator says that the rivalry between Carnegie and Rockefeller continues after Carnegie builds his hall in New York. I say, “See, having a rivalry keeps one sharp, it make you push to succeeded. She on the other hand thinks this is a waste of time and energy and announces how she is not competitive. I smile “you’re right girl,” I say then sit down and continue to watch her paint.

Early on when she first got here I mentioned that a houseboy I once had cleaned the bathroom in total, meaning the walls and all. Needless to say that has been the case with her ever since. Yeah she’s not competitive at all. LOL  Being competitive is a good thing, not that the person I compete against needs to know, I know and it is this that can push me to be more than I could be. Yeah, I know there is a bit of ego in this thinking, but it’s for good not evil.

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i’m not sure where i am going today with this today. There is a lot on my mind, a lot on my soul.

Yesterday, it started to emotionally snowball. No reason why though lots of little things are playing a part. In about two weeks, i will return to pack my things in Florida and then come home to Her. And this is good, it is as it should be.

i am more sure of coming home to Her than i have ever been of anything before.

Every time it crosses my mind that i face three weeks without waking up next to her, i tense and have to remind myself to refocus on the now, for that is all anyone has anyway.

i am a person who has strong desires to give thanks to people who have helped me on my journey in life and like to start new paths without leaving loose, unthanked ends. There are friends to see, of course. But i don’t mean that. There are people i needed to distance myself from and while that was the right thing- the only thing- to do- i still wish i could reach out in some way in gratitude. And then there are people that while i wish them well, i prefer to do it from a great distance. i have no control there.

In a dream i saw myself in the big leather chair in the livingroom, with my knees drawn up and my arms wrapped around them, absently staring at nothing and twisting a ring, searching for her without words.

A part of my childhood hopes was to have a mate who served as a spirtual head of the family. i did not recognize that having this would create a longing unlike anything else.

Life does not ever get in the way of who we are, as Master and slave. i do not recognize that point of view, as this is who we are and not what we do. Life does not get in the way of Her being my priest,in the sense of Sir Raven being the one who engages me spritually and helps protect me. i do notice, however, that when life gets in the way of our joining to vent our baser instincts….i feel disconnected. Not from Her, no. From my Self.

The physical pain mounts, exhaustion builds, and i feel less authentically me. i feel less grace and less kindness for myself and experience a kind of edge, one that i work at because while i understand i formed it long ago to protect myself, it is not needed now.

i could of course, go to Sir Raven and beg her to hurt me, the only thing that lets me resurface again. i do not because our days have been long, full of many obligations and knowing her exhaustion i do not care to add to it with needing anything.

Beyond this, i’m quite sure she knows. i note that at a two week point without the physical manifestation of her power, i experience the intense need again and there are times its just not convenient to be me. i think i am fine and then it just rises up and smacks me over the head. Sometimes showing up in my behavior.

There are things, elementary things, that i slipped at last week. These things make me rather furious at myself, because i certainly know better. i don’t understand where it comes from or why or what it means. More anger, as i dislike those things that i do not understand. i find i cannot quite forgive myself.

Sir Raven is far more tolerant and forgiving of me than i am of myself and i well imagine that there is a lesson there. But this week, i’m focused on some other lesson, one about worth and value.

It is hard for me to accept being spoiled. And she spoils me often. The most expensive things i own, besides my Grandmother’s ring that i don’t wear (it’s too fancy for me), have come from Sir Raven. She bought me this insanely expensive pair of boots that literally made me feel sick to my stomach when i learned their price. i asked her to not tell me, in fact. She calmly ticked off the practical reasons for needing them here and then dismissively mentioned their price, knowing that i would have a hard time accepting that she wanted them for me. i had to swallow down my desire to ask her if she was sure, to ask her to return them. Instead, i put them on and paraded around the apartment demonstrating her points about how i could move faster and in greater comfort.

i kept thinking of the Cinderella story and how much i disliked it.

i could mount an argument from the feminist perspective of a laundry list of why i loathed the fairy tale.

Or i could admit to having been called Cinderella in life, in jokes that were not funny. My mother said it, with a note of approval, and it bothered me to deal with the sure knowledge and acceptance of who i am. Years later it was said in that same joking tone by a woman who should have known better, a woman who told me she wanted me to feel like a princess as i worked past exhaustion to please her. My worth was tied up in those things, the work i could do flawlessly and without complaint. The second go round, noting that this woman hit the same nerves as my mother, made me deal with learning how to not become emotionally spent in the process and how to walk away.

Sir Raven tells me, in ways tangible and not, that she values my work. But my work is not my worth. It is more the other way around. My worth is in my proud acknowledgement that i am a slave, that i have grace and power and worth as a woman. My work is only a by product of this and not how i should measure myself because my perfectionistic nature will always get caught up in wanting to do more, give more. i don’t need to decide those things any longer. It is not my place.

Cinderella is a girl who was treated as a slave by her ruthless family and escaped to become a princess with a glass slipper.

jade is a girl who escaped her ruthless families to become the slave she always was inside and gets treated like a princess in her fancy boots and fancy new clothes from Old Navy.

i wear those boots while i run all over the place in an endless and joyful day of errands the following day, and think about my worth to her, trying to accept it, trying to make it as comfortable as the Tims are. She defines my worth in ways that i would have never considered for myself. It’s huge for a girl like me who has always been greatful for everything i had in life, no matter what is was.

i learned things about my worth from the bags of second hand clothes bought throughout my former life on the dollar day only. i had not thought so….and pushed back against the idea…..but if i had not then the idea of so much fuss made by Sir Raven would not have been such a multi-layered lesson in accepting.

She defines me, adornes me, takes care of me, protects me.

i am learning to accept.

 

The wind and the rudder

The girl usually teases me about making list; she says that I keep a running list in my head, which is true. I am always thinking of what I need to do and what I want to do concerning out relationship. Hell a ship will move along the water with its sails but will have no direction without a rudder. So yeah I have list, if you want to spend your life with is serious business, which many don’t take as serious, it might be due to the way the world has become so disposable. Meeting her and putting the time into getting to know her and her getting to know me warts and will takes time. So making the decision to ask her to stay her in New York means I have a list of shit to consider. Granted she may not have a lot of things like furniture but I’ve been as some of my friends call me a bachelor for a long time. So having someone come live with me not only takes time for me to get my head around it, I also have to make sure I can take care of her needs. This is the part where anyone who thinks this is about the story of O might want to click away. What are some of the things on my running list in my head?

How are we going to live in my one bedroom apartment?

How is she going to adapt to living in NY as FL where it doesn’t snow?

Is she going to be able to get around the city in the winter?

Is she keeping on track with her schooling?

How are we going to deal with paying for her medication and or if she needs to go to the doctor?

We’ve had a conversation where she told me she hasn’t been to a GYN for some time, and this is very troubling to me.

These are a few things that I have to not only consider, but make sure I have a plan in place for.

So yeah, I have a list. We have been living together for several months since her visit back in July, and haven’t killed each other yet.

She has been here and the weather is changing and besides that fact that she didn’t take my suggestion to let me buy here a coat, she’s come to see the light. Or should I say feel the coolness of fall in New York, so she’s getting a coat. But fall in New York is very different then winter in New York. Only time will tell how this works out for us. We are blessed that my work place has acknowledged domestic partnership long before the current political climate of gay marriage. So I have been looking into how to and what this means to us. This also means that I’m going to be responsible for paying out of pocket for her health care, but as they keep saying you get it back in your taxes. Big whoop! So yeah this is not the story of O it’s real life and one we choice to live, which comes with a list or two.

A ship doesn’t sail on the wind alone

i have a lot of things i want to get done today.  i have a paper to write and a test to take.  They are not due til tomorrow but we are going to have a long weekend and i’d like to be able to relax without the nagging at my brain that happens when i have work not yet complete.  i’ve spent two days reading about Constitutional Law, which is just as depressing as it sounds.  Okay…more.  But i am working diligently, wanting to please her because my school work nags at her brain too. 

My mind is restless today, thinking too much and not enough at the same time.  Aversive racism in health care is the topic du joir for school mixed in with Supreme Court cases i’m trying to memorize.  i have laundry to haul down and wash, a whole chicken i’m thinking of roasting, and more housework to do.  And all the while, i keep thinking of my body curled up in a tight ball in the bed, her over me, pain spreading me open, pouring me out, whole. 

This morning, over coffee, we joke about the upcoming MasT meeting and the topic is abuse.  Gallows humor has always been a favorite of mine and she quips that maybe she will tell people that “we would stay longer but i have to get jade home to beat her ass right now.”  Abuse is no laughing matter.  Of course it’s not.  Living through it gives me the right to laugh….God knows i’ve earned it.

And so its not a huge surprise that i find my mind flooded today.  Thinking of a hundred things at once.  Needing her hungry to hurt me.  i have always, before, found a way to eroticize pain and knowing the endorphins will rise up to help me.  This thing we do is different, hungry, primal.  So much so that i’m not sure i’d want to watch it happen to someone else.  There is something special about genuine suffering rather than the tame build up, the very tameness alone made me want to growl at times with other people.  Because, damn, i am not a delicate rose petal that has to be caressed into it.  Still, all things are relative and the way i was accustomed to a scene starting often matched the intensity of how other scenes around me ended. 

i was a little proud before. 

In her candlelit room the pride is shattered head first.  No room for it in the fog that builds, truncates the light, and renders an open hunger.  Raw.  Real.  Powerful.  Special. 

It makes me laugh now, the idea that a slave has some special gift to offer, something to be sweetly given.  Nope.  Not from me.  i wonder if these people that really believe this have ever experienced anything remotely like sacrifice or surrender.  i have always thought that it is really the Dominant who is giving the gifts.  She is the one taking and that is a gift.  She is the one who concerns herself with things, like my grades, that do not benefit her directly.  Another gift.  Her lips brushing mine every morning before she leaves for work?  Gift.  Her pronouncement that dinner was delicious?  Gift.  Guiding me? Gift.  The way she notices everything? Gift.  The division of labor is clear- so when she helps out?  Gift.     

And why don’t we ever talk about that?  Masters take risks for us.  Lots of them.  Every day.  There is the obvious risk of the potential for someone to hear me begging and the police that could try to drag her out.  It’s not likely but its a risk.  Then there is the risk that comes from letting me see her because i well imagine it would feel like a huge risk to let a person see your darkness, unsure if they will understand it, see the beauty there.  Those risks are a gift. 

That is what i’d like to say to people who don’t get consentual-non-consent and think it is abusive.  i would like to tell them that this way of life is a genuine gift for people who need it.  It feels like one and breathes like one and makes me feel safe. 

Abuse is not about what is done to you.

Abuse is about how you feel about yourself and the intent to make you feel bad, worthless, ugly, slow, and eternally fearful.

In consentual non-consent, i feel none of the things.  Not even fearful.  Especially not fearful.

It’s not that there is no chance that something couldn’t go wrong.  A blade can slice skin.  A whip could miss its mark.  We are working with live grenades, in a manner of speaking.  It’s just that i trust and am positive that if something did go wrong, i’d be taken care of.  Because she is responsible for me and for her own actions.  The lack of fear is what let me find my ability to not hold myself back.  i could hazard a guess that me not holding back creates a space for her to be who she is. Or maybe it is the other way around?  Her being open to showing herself and patience in letting me learn how to let go have resulted in an authentic experience of healthy consentual-non-consent.   i have never met an authentic person who is abusive. 

We take risks.  All of us.  Some of them are calculated.  Some are not.

Each are important.  So is every gift, given and taken. 

i have a lot of…

Be the change.

Integrity. Honor. Trust.  Loyalty.

What do these words really mean?

To me, they are action words

i am so exhausted from listening to people wax eloquent about what the words mean and how they are the very definition, the living embodiment, of each of them.

Really?

For all of the faults of my birth family, we had some damn good credos. You know, like, if you are great, you don’t have to tell anyone, they tell you. Or how about, simply, never be greedy. Or the golden rule. Or my personal favorite, always be a lady…always walk out like a lady. And Be loyal…without loyalty, you are nothing. Another goodie: You can bullshit the entire world if you want to, but never bullshit yourself.

Hmmm. Aren’t all of these messages about how to express integrity, honor, trustworthiness, and loyalty? i think so. It takes integrity and honor to not loose your shit and stay calm enough in the face of ugly behaviors to walk out like a lady. You are demonstrating honor and trustworthy behavior if you really do live by the golden rule. Certainly, it seems to me that people who are shouting the loudest about loyalty, honor, and are continuously expressing how much they detest drama are the very people who need to understand that being able to define these principles in words has nothing to do with defining them with actions.

And people who are defining them as a verbs are quite busy showing up for themselves, and for their partners, and their friends. Even when its not easy. Especially when its not easy.

Drama. Really….what life has no drama? i think, though, there is a difference between human struggle and turmoil. The struggle of each person can be noble, can be exceptional. People genuinely engaged with each other seem to have less turmoil in their lives. Perhaps this is the added benefit of showing up for each other because when you are invested in other people, you spend time and attention on them and this leaves much less time to be ugly.

As one smart woman i knew once remarked, if we have nothing to talk about but other people and their drama, i wouldn’t consider us friends. Friends have other things they can talk about with each other besides sharing gossip.

People who have been fighting for what they believe in their whole lives are exhausted at times. That is totally understandable and it makes it all the more seductive when people proclaim that they are not about drama and share your principles. i find i have to pay attention to how i feel when i’m around different people. As Sir Raven says, there is always “a tell.” When i hang up my phone and realize i’m feeling sick or exhausted, those are the people i find are the “drama folks.” i have a finite amount of energy and don’t want to waste it on a conversation that will leave me feeling ill. And even though i will walk out like a lady whether i want to or not, i have learned i have to limit my exposure. Which is easy enough, because i’m busy, trying to live an authentic life.

i’m not the world’s best anything. i’m human, fallible, and make mistakes. The only person i’m trying to please in this world is Sir Raven, who deserves the best i have to offer for a million reasons. She has never told me that she is about honor or integrity or loyalty. She never had to. It’s there in the way she treats her friends and family. It’s there in the way she reaches out to help people with no motive other than to help. It’s there in the way she shows up for people after a long and tiring work day. It’s there in the way she accepted the challenges of being with someone who has some disabilities without ever making me feel unable or seeking approval from the world for doing it.

It is one of the great honor’s of my life to be in service to Sir Raven because i am a direct reflection of her and i love her for setting a high bar even when it would be easier not to. Let’s face it: living up to ideals is work. i imagine it would be far easier to just talk about virtue.

So often, in slave circles, i have heard people ask how they find a Master. i think the answer is you watch. Do their words and actions match? Do your words and actions match?

Start there. Because it is hard when you have such a deep longing to lay yourself down and it is easy to be seduced by hearing how someone is trust personified. Don’t give away parts of yourself that you won’t get back. By the time you realize that the person shouldn’t be trusted- cannot be trusted- you will be hurt in the process. i regret the times i have floundered, let myself believe in people who didn’t know their own worth. Or mine. And i think that is what all of the posturing is about….they don’t know their own worth or the worth of anyone else. This creates paranoia and leaves a huge void inside that drama seems to fill.

Wait. Watch. Wait some more. It’s worth it.

 

Don’t Talk About It, Be About It

I’ve written about what some may think of as challenges with having the girl in my life. here I’ve been giving this some thought and although for some it would be a challenge, I consider it being mindful. We often hear that a slave should be mindful, but never about the master. I’m also not sure of when people use this term they are speaking about spiritual mindfulness either. If what they mean by mindful in the sense of awareness, then I believe that the master should be mindful; after all they are the ones in charge. How things are executed and done by the slave, but knowing that it has been done is up to the master.

Is the slave having a hard time at getting a particular task done?

Is the slave health being taken care of?

Are they fine emotionally?

These are but a few things that come to mind when I think about being mindful when it comes to me. Mindfulness for me is the awareness of all that is going on in my surroundings and that would also include my slave. The girl often teases me that I’m a tweaker, which I am. If there is something that I think can be executed better I’ll tweak it. It’s important that she take a certain amount of her medicine throughout the day, and there are times she may forget if she’s taken it. I’ve watched her for some time as well as asked if she remembered taken it? To not have this question asked of me and to not have her second guess herself, I’ve tweaked her. I’ve given her a separate tin that has the amount of medicine she should take throughout the day, but you know what? Since I’ve decided this I have to make sure that medicine is in the tin. Yep, I forget at times and remember when I’m in bed falling asleep. There have been times I’ve gotten out of bed to fill the tin, and there have been times I’ve filled it in the morning. I have to be mindful; I have to be aware that since I’ve put this in place I now have to make sure she has what she needs. I’m seriously thinking about re-tweaking what I’ve tweaked.