Scent

Of all of our senses, scent is easily the most underrated.  It is just one reason that i cheerily refer to PTSD as the gift that keeps on giving.

We had a really busy weekend.  First, a monthly giant shopping trip at BJs.  We were out of everything because this was a planned trip.  After everything was bought, hauled up stairs, and put up, we both fell into an overstimulated and exhausted nap.  Sir Raven, of course, did not have to help me but i told her how much i appreciated her help.  She injured her thumb, so i was eager to not have her do too much, and was trying diligently to race her in getting everything done.

Then, we had a bar invasion with her leather brothers.  It went a whole lot better than i was expecting, to be honest.  i had a moment when i had to dart outside for a break, because there was a lot of blinking lights, and i was having that tell tale feeling in my brain that i needed to get away from it-immediately.  Fortunately, i was left at a table with Sir Josh and Master Kaddan, who would know where i was if Sir Raven didn’t happen to see me go out the door.  I almost never move without her say when i’m deposited someplace, but i had little choice.  i was without a needed medicine for a week, and a side effect of not having it can be seizures.  So-yeah.

The next day, we had a get together with the whole crew at Master Kaddans.  i was happy, because her person let me help in the kitchen.  i had a super bad moment, which i tried to hide, and failed.  i smelled pine sol and it started freaking me out.  Its the only cleaner that my mother liked, and i used it daily for her, until i was in my mid twenties and realized-stunned-one day that i really and truly hated that smell.  It is the smell of grinding poverty and abuse.

And so i was fighting off everything from a scent.  Finally, i asked for a smoke, and that helped considerably.  i have just recently realized that i smoke to make myself bigger.  It explains a hell of a lot.  When i need to dial down my feelings, something my inner 5 year old doesn’t really care about, i smoke.  It puts me into a bigger mindframe.  i had never realized this before.  No wonder i fought Sir T so hard when she freaked out about me smoking-it was the only way i had to keep myself from emotions that were overwhelming to me.

i managed to sort of get through it, and helped in the kitchen, which made me happy.  i have been there enough times to know how things should be done and where they go.  There was so much food!  Food for days!  It gave me something to focus on besides the confusing and scary feelings that were coming up.

i hate the ways that it is so obvious i was abused.

i hate that i don’t have a partner i can turn to that will help me work through it.

i hate that i am smoking here and there to cope.  i smoke very little, and not every day, but still.  i asked her to make a rule about it, but she just doesn’t care enough to do it.  Somehow, she finds it unfair.  To which i would point out that most of her rules are unfair, in the sense that they don’t serve any purpose besides her controlling the shit out of everything.  Heh.

i’ve been making the effort to be more open, more little girl energy for her, because she responds to it with greater warmth and seems happier with that.  A friend pointed out that i hit a wall inside because there really isn’t anywhere else to go in my slavery.  i’ve been thinking about that for days now, turning it around slowly, thinking.  There is some truth to it.  i don’t have any will of my own to speak of.  No capacity for leaving.  No agency for changing anything.  Nothing kept aside for me.  Nothing that i am in charge of.  Very few things that i can’t align to her will or ways.  i’ve tried to plan, to form will, and i failed.

i had a slave friend who said of her Master, “I love him beyond reason.”  It always stuck with me, having never head that turn of phrase before.  Frankly, i thought that he treated her badly.  i could see she had no will to leave him, no agency, no ability.  i wondered at what it meant until i was there.  i love Sir Raven beyond reason.

i had another slave friend who shocked me by sitting calmly while her Master shaved her head.  She was vain and lovely and it was a shock to me.  She said simply, there was nowhere else to go.  And i wondered at it, for years, until i was there.  i’d sit for it too.  i wouldn’t want to, but i would.

The thoughts that are bad give me great anxiety.  It’s easier to not have them.  It is easier to just smile, do what is needed, get things done as best i can.  i sit on my playpen, am quiet, work, try to work, read, rest.  i’m trying to just keep myself small and calm and sweet.  Today, i’m not feeling much of anything.  Just tired-bone tired.

Tender moments

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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!