i didn’t mean to start a war


At the moment, i’m obsessed with the song, “wrecking ball.”

i remember writing in here once that i was hanging by a thread, desperate for release, and she said it made her think of me as a science experiment.  How much longer can you hold on?  One week? Two?

i have turned myself inside out, in ways i never imagined.

i’ve been asked a number of times if i’m afraid of losing myself.  i have two answers.  The first answer is that i’ve done a lot more finding myself than losing.  i don’t elaborate to say that it’s when i’m exhausted and keep going, when there is just the expectation that i can hold everything up, keep everything going- and i do it.  It’s there in the late night exhaustion, wondering what else i can be doing.  Or doing better.  It’s there when i’ve been hanging by a thread, long months of need built up, moments of simmering rage under the pleasant demeanor.  Inside of the letting go, being mindful, being soft-i am strong in a way that feels honest to me.  And that?  That kind of power is real.  It’s grace under tremendous pressure.  It’s mission accomplished satisfaction.  The degree of self-control a slave needs is so consuming at times that it’s no surprise, really, that so many of us are perfectionist driven control freaks.

Someone less driven would let go of the thread.

My other answer is that by the time you are sure you are experiencing a division inside yourself, something familiar in a not good way, something that tells you for sure a core value or idea is being hammered at, letting go of the outcome helps me.  To let go i have to be content either way, and that means a detached observation is going on, full buggy tilt.  My inner observer has donned a lab coat and checked off little boxes all over the damn place, determined the DSM Code, and damn near billed myself.  Heh.

Seriously though, the losing yourself isn’t a thing that happens in one second.  You just look around one day and realize your identity is tied directly to something that is making you sink under salt water, burning lungs, rage.  And you find that you are rather curious too, about how long you can hold on, now that the BDSM part of our lives means nothing to me.

Mentally hold on, under water.

It’s strange.  i just don’t want to be touched. period.  Doesn’t matter any more.

i think of the Yellow Wallpaper and laugh.  i remind myself to try and paint, but the last time i tried that while i was letting go, i painted and cried for three days.  Right now, that seems like a lot of energy to spare.

i research, cook, clean, do laundry, buy food.  i also spend time staring at nothing.  Praying. Trying to see beyond the mists.


4 thoughts on “i didn’t mean to start a war

  1. Tiggs at hundred acres says:

    hey lovely, seems odd the past few posts, from places of relative content a little while back to this where the ‘bdsm part of our lives means nothing to me’. now I figure this may not be the most important part of the post but it got me thinking… if it is not, why do you still act like it is? habit? because really your submission is still important but an aspect is not important? or have I missed something?

    • jadescastle says:

      Hiya Tiggs. BDSM is the physical personification of what we do. So it’s the S and M, and the sex part. And thats what i don’t want touched anymore. i can submit and serve without anything. i’m too angry to get it and function.

      • Tiggs at hundred acres says:

        ah I see, and wishes it wasn’t so for you, I want to suck all the anger away and inject replacement with happy and pain free… but maybe the anger is good, it helps you survive as you… so I will send virtual hugs instead.

  2. Tiggs at hundred acres says:

    sorry that posted before I finished editing and thinking… anyways I hope you find a way through the fog.

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