Empty

i’m feeling a bit lonely and empty tonight.  Sir Raven is asleep, and hearing her snore lightly from bed makes me smile.  i wish she was up, and was able to comfort me.  In many ways, i have learned to associate comfort with just her mere presence in the room with me.

i’ve been feeling a bit emotional lately.  i think the overwhelming stress going on for months, followed by the last two or three weeks in a flare, the pressure of needing to nail an A in both classes i had to retake, money, and changes within our family of choice has all built up.

While out at a nearby Mexican restaurant, the topic of the choice to vacate the nest by one of our tribe came up.  Specifically, the fact that i have reached out several times via text, and how it was wrong of me.  Or, anyhow, that was the message i got.

i remembered sitting in the Residency class on Grief and Atonement, and the lecturer said that the closer the grief comes to trauma, one loss is the same thing as all loss.  That is, when we have experienced grief associated with trauma, even a smaller sense of loss will cause us to revisit the earlier grief.

So maybe it makes sense my brother has been on my mind, the sad and dejected man, the evil fuck who i woke up to with a gun and crazy glazed over eyes, standing over us with a double barrel shot gun one morning.  If i had not had my glasses on and fallen asleep on the sofa with my mother nearby, and had not caught a glimpse of him, and not been able to react quickly by waking and acting like i never saw the gun or his vacant expression, he would have killed us.  He is also who i called after an impromptu visit to our childhood home, waking him at 7am in another state, and having him answer the phone and know exactly where i was.  He had no reason to know i was there, except our own bond.  i can remember clearly the last time i saw him, he was leaving my oceanfront apartment and heading back to Tennessee.  He wanted to gift me with a pit bull, one he assured me would “take care of” anyone who abused me ever again.  i was already trying to figure out how to get away, and trying to figure out how to take a puppy with me was just too much.  We kissed each other on the lips, his eyes registering hurt in leaving me there.

My mind is throwing up memories like that lately,  Like i’m the unwilling Princess of Tides.  That is what my mother called me.  In “The Prince of Tides,” we learn of child abuse and love through Tom Wingo’s eyes, in flashbacks so benign to my mind, i would have simply called them “memories.”

For me, “flashbacks” were full out disassociations, sucked into a black hole, with no sense of current time.  i keep myself tightly controlled, and clearly ask for what i need, and won’t let that happen again.

i really hate this.  i don’t like being emotional, of having to tell myself-gently-ten times a day, “You don’t have to think about this right now.”  The hurricane threatening the people that used to be my family really hurt me.  i felt helpless, realizing all over again that nothing will ever change anything with them, and that i have nothing to offer them anymore.

i hate the physical pain, which is exhausting and mentally draining.  My doctor refused to write a letter for the school, for me to not have to repay for classes, and i am feeling a bit betrayed.

i’ve been keeping the house nearly immaculate, despite it all.  i’ve been keeping grades to a B.  i’m trying.

i know-for sure-that part of what i need is to be acknowledged as a woman, as a passionate human being, as someone worth being held and treated special, and being able to just cry it all out as she beats it out of me.  i know that the eventual outcome of not having those needs end up with my pain.

i’m also a bit stressed that my doctor has ordered another MRI, this one for my mid back, which was damaged by the wreck my brother caused and by other abusive shit done to me over the years.  The good thing is this time i know that Sir Raven will refuse surgery for it, because she already did that for my neck.  It is just too risky.  i don’t think there could be anything going on that would be as scary as finding out about my neck damage, the multiple places my spinal cord is being pushed on all of the time.  And we survived that intact.

i’m just wishing that we would devote time to our needs as a couple consistently.  It would help a lot for me right now.  i ask, i send sexy texts, inviting.  There is nothing more i can do but wait and focus on trying to be a good slave for her.

Fall weather should come back again soon, and that is always welcomed.  i can’t wait for us to take cool walks in the botanical gardens, ride the tram and see all of the changes, and the sense that everything is full of possibilities in the air once again.

 

 

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Slowly

i woke at around 8, my usual time for rising.  Today, i am going through the morning with deliberate leisure.  i’ve spent a few hours in meditation, listened to some podcasts that help uncover Ancient Ancestral wisdom, and just quietly listened to myself in silence.

i made myself a cup of my favorite tea, Chamomile & Lavender and ate a fresh plum from yesterdays bounty of fruit i bought at the farmers market.  i also heckled the vendors yesterday, because i walked there in the rain last week only to discover the farmers market had been cancelled.  i got Sir Raven a peach pie and a bag of mixed fruits.

Yesterday was so hectic.  During morning chores, i was trying to field calls from my advisor, figure out the next Residency schedule, go over what needed to be submitted this week for classes, and every time i thought i was about to head back out the door the phone rang for me to buzz someone up.  i received several packages, which was good.  Then two wrong calls happened, breaking into my chain of thoughts around what i needed to successfully figure out about the timing of two important needs for school.  The phone rang again for the last time, right as i was giving myself ten minutes to just sit before i went out to the farmers market.

i was delighted to discover it was Sir Raven, home very early.  She brought home comfort food-mac and cheese, green beans, and jerk chicken.  We shared a nice lunch together, and several kisses, because i was so happy she was home.  i know she needs quiet at home, rest after so much time spent busy and away from the nest, where she finds her peace.  i ordered some early gifts online, finalized the next Residency (in Atlanta, for March), and then went about my weekly trip to the farmers market.  Since i have been having some anxious feelings, i decided to make the time to walk down there before the blue skies turned ominous.

Over the stressful months, culminating in the hurricane, i have used every tool i know.  i stayed grounded, focused, kind, loving, made time for coloring and drinking herbal tea and meditation.  i walked when i could.  i planned for enjoyable activities.  i always feel gratitude and express it daily, so that practice continued.  i wasn’t able to make time for writing here, and what little time i had left over i spent with friends.

Still, though, i eventually turned exhaustedly to binge eating.  i’ve had to try and forgive myself for that and move on.

i have to forgive myself for breaking down and checking on people who truly don’t deserve my compassion.  i’m still trying to find self forgiveness there.  i know it goes against what Sir Raven wants me do to about bio family members and others who have proven themselves abusive.

i work really hard at this life that i have.  i am always trying to find new ways to bring peace and joy, service and warm, gentleness and openness, respect and love to my Masters life.

It is hard for me to open myself up to tell her i am disappointed with her, because that was something that would have led to rage and abuse in my former life.  You just did’n’t discuss these things, unless you were willing to say your peace and have them make light of it or chance getting hurt.  Neither reaction felt good.

It is a testament to trusting her that i will admit when i feel hurt, when i feel she lost an opportunity to make me feel special.  i don’t know if me telling her will ever result in different behavior or if this is simply an exercise in me learning how to not withhold from her in any way.  So, i tell her, pout for a few minutes, and try to let it go.

From a slave perspective, she has every right to say no.  That is not the issue, for me.  It is being told yes and then having the treat taken away.  It makes me feel like i can’t trust in her, that i can’t let myself feel excited or happily surprised because it will likely end in hurt.  i don’t know what to do about that.

All i know to do is to continue to show love and respect and trust.  i can’t say i trust her if i won’t share hard things with her.  On some level, that means i do not trust her to be able to handle hard information.  So, even this act of telling her she made my five year old self sad and mad is an act of trust and obedience.  It doesn’t look like it, but that is exactly what it is for us.

i believe that it says a lot for her to want to hear those things, rather than have me hide them and take a step back from everything inside.

It was far more comfortable, to me, to not share things like this with her.  i have to remind myself-With enough time and persistence, anything feels natural over time.  i’m not hoarding my feelings anymore, and i think that is a good thing for us.

Showing respect, trust, love, and demonstrating obedience is about me and my path and are not conditional acts.  i feel new levels of respect for myself when we uncover another way to give something else over.

It is my hope that she feel inspired too.

Like everything else, only time will tell.  Everything has a rhythm in life, and right now we need some slowness, quietness, mystery.  Everything will happen as it should.

 

Balancing Act

Before we left for Residency, i asked Sir Raven to use me.  i also asked her to pack toys specifically and packed her dick myself.  She took it out of the suitcase, determined to control the shit out of packing, as always.  Heh.  She said the suitcase was for “necessary items,” to which i pointed out that this was going to be highly stressful for both of us, particularly me, and these were necessary items.

i was very disappointed in her when i unpacked and there were no toys, no nothing, despite me very clearly saying-several times-this was a need based thing right now.  i had already gone months without, had already dealt with a bunch of stress, and was directly appealing to her for support and for taking care of me.

i was even more disappointed in her when the same thing occurred for the Master slave conference.  Okay, so she packed a single small whip.  She never even told me she had done that and never used it.

i was also really disappointed that the few things we had discussed ahead of time and planned that were meant to be periods of time to have for just us, Daddy and little jade time, if you will-got cancelled.

First, it was the aquarium in Atlanta.  The only day they closed before 9pm was the only day i was out of school obligations before 2pm.  Had Sir Raven looked this up, i wouldn’t have spent a week looking forward to it to just be disappointed.  i looked it up the night before, because they had special tickets after 4pm until closing, and i had wanted to know if i needed to order them online.

Then the swimming pool was literally like an ice cube, and i have had far too many broken bones for that to have been anything but torture.

i cheered myself up by reminding us that the hotel at MSC has an indoor pool.

So, of course, when we got to MSC and i got an offer to go swimming with someone else, Sir Raven jumped at the chance to not be bothered with taking me.  And it hurt, because she had said that she was really disappointed about not getting to watch me swim in Atlanta, and i believed her.

It turned out that the offer didn’t make much sense to involve me that night, and we were going to go swimming the night of the cigar party.  That was after the formal dinner at our house.  Okay. Fine.  i can wait a bit longer, no problem-

except-

After the formal dinner, i started cleaning the kitchen up.  i had asked about doing that and got the okay from the other slaves, and since it was “my” kitchen it made sense for me to get it done anyhow.  Halfway through, i realized my tights were falling off my butt and i sort of hastily pulled them off and took my expensive dress of and replaced it with a regular dress.

Everything finished and my backpack packed with my swimming suit, i was ready to just relax for a bit.  i sat on the floor by Sir Raven, who said, “I’m going to ask you something, and you will say ‘yes.’ Do you have homework?”

Confused, because we had already discussed that earlier and i had everything done that i could actually do at that point, i just did what she told me to and said, “yes.”

“Good.  So you will stay here and do homework, and i will be going out to the Cigar party with the others, since you already took off your nice dress anyhow.”

i tried to explain that i had wanted to go too, and was sad to be excluded since it seemed very clear she didn’t want me to go.  She said that wasn’t true, and either could not or would not see how the way she set the conversation up was the reason why i was feeling this way.  We went a bit round and round then, me unsure of what changing my dress had to do with anything, and her acting a bit miffed as if i was playing some kind of female head game with her.

And so we went, got there, and found it had been cancelled and moved to the next night when none of us would be there.

The next day, i had been looking forward to a return to The Cheesecake Factory, because they had an awesome confetti cake and cheesecake that i had really wanted to try when all of us slaves got to go out to eat along Friday night.  Instead, i had brought back a slice i knew Sir Raven would enjoy with two spoons and ate just two bites before giving her the rest.  Now we were going to return as a large group, and i mentioned several times how i was excited to have the confetti cake.  It got cancelled.

i asked Sir Raven meekly if we could go alone and just have dessert together.  No.

Well, then could we go swimming?  No.

How about some sexy fun times?  No.

Sigh.  How about homework?  There is literally always something i could be reading.

All of these little disappointments build up and rattle around inside me.  It’s very frustrating because i otherwise had a really good time at both events.  There is so much good to say and focus on, and of course i have already done that.  But the little girl inside is really hurt about all of it.  Still.

i’m in another flare with a period, so now its a moot point for another week.

i’m really angry and worn out with the pain.  i’m aware that getting my needs met would reduce those flares.  She is aware that getting my needs met would reduce them too.  i just cannot-just truly cannot-understand why these things go on.

It’s hard for me too because since i promised to not take my little girl self away from her, it means i have to tell her that i’m hurt and disappointed in her.  That isn’t easy.  It feels extremely awkward around other people, for damn sure, but the alternative is that i go numb for a bit and absorb it.  SR has decided that isn’t good for us, so i have to tell her she hurts me.

The last couple days have been 24/7 intense pain, sharp knife like stabbing pain in my back and legs that keep falling asleep.  i’m exhausted, mentally and physically.  Ro cleaned up the kitchen and made lunches last night, and i felt really thankful but also a bit guilty.  When i point out she worked all day, God bless her, she points out that i did too.  And then she shooed me off to bed.  Intellectually, i get that i am needing the rest and sleep now.  Emotionally, i’m too worn out.

So i am getting chores done in bits.  The bedroom is clean, dusted, and Masters bed has fresh sheets.  The bathroom is scrubbed.  The kitchen is decent, though there is some more to be done.  i have a plan for dinner.  i’m going to wrap myself up in a soft blue nap blanket and have my nap bear, Levi, with me.

i knew with the last month of back-to-back crazy going on that i was going to suffer for a long time later.  It could have- and should have -been made better for me by just doing what i needed.  i know i didn’t deserve to be disappointed over things that we had the ability to do.  i know i deserve to feel special.  i do.

Sigh.  It is really hard to feel like i’m worth anything when i ask for her to just hold me and make me feel safe and she won’t.  She blames the fibro, or says she does it when i’m asleep, or some other excuse.  sometimes, i want to point out to her that when i ask her to cuddle me and she rejects me, she is rejecting the  very part of me she claims to love and need the most.  It is an area we need to work on.  She needs to help me balance.

i’ve been pretty terrrorized about Irma hitting Florida, because even though i know i shouldn’t care, my mother is there.  My Bigs are there.  Friends. My grandmother’s house.  Her grave.  My nephews are likely somewhere in Georgia, though of course i don’t know where.  So it was hard.

Florida seems to have mostly pulled through.  Sometimes, when the anxiety gets really high, i resort to checking facebook pages.  Is my brother there?  Is my mother okay?  Sometimes, i look and find nasty surprises.  Enough to remind me that i’m not crazy to never ever consider seeing them again, for any reason.  Enough to let me know that the nightmares are sometimes revving up for a reason, telling me that are not to be trusted to not find some new way to attack, given any chance.

So, i’m trying to feel some compassion for myself in all of this.  The last seven or eight weeks have been very stressful, and i’m trying to be kind to myself, trying to do the things that make me feel comfortable right now-even if it is eat ice cream or take extra pain meds.  Time for a nap so i can get some work done for school.  If i can manage to get enough done, maybe i will have time for a walk in the gardens before dinner.

Unpacking

We finally made it through August.  What a freaking whirlwind!  Two Spiritual birthdays, Onyx Pearl Bar night, Onyx Pearl group meeting, One week long Residency, One Amtrak ride from hell, and four days later….the Master Slave Conference.

The major takeaway of all of this for me is that Sir Raven and i are genuinely really tight, both within our dynamic and as a couple.  For the first time, she gave me the honor of shopping for needed things for her Spiritual Birthday along with other duties.  When we had little misadventures, we handled them with grace and humor.  With all of the stress-and this was extremely stressful for both of us-we never once had an unkind word or nasty exchange.  Sir Raven is always stressed this time of year from just the pressure of the Spiritual Birthdays, let alone adding all of this other stuff on top.

The misadventures included her controlling the shit out of everything so hard that we were packed and going out to the Amtrak a full day early and made it two stops from home before she double checked everything and we got off to call Amtrak.  This was partially a issue with Amtrak, which confused us by closing down Penn Station two weeks after we made our reservations and rerouting us.  It was also my Beloved Master reacting to the stress of the entire thing and missing a detail.

So there we were, both dripping in sweat because of the humidity and hauling suitcases up and down stairs, with me trying to call Amtrak with this damed automated thing that really doesn’t like my voice ever.  We finally got confirmation that it was tomorrow, with a time change, and i called Ro to tell her to cancel her wild party for the night. Heh.

While we were soaked in sweat and waiting for the train to take us back home, i leaned over and kissed her and laughed.  “This is exactly why we would be getting married in New York, because this would be totally us trying to get to the Altar, on the wrong day and dripping sweat.”  i had just been trying to hold things for her and remind her to drink her water, and she had just been trying to wipe my sweaty face with her already soaking wet handkerchief.  We laughed about the whole thing.

i realized how much being hers has changed me, in that when things like this happen, i want to soothe her more than anything.  There is absolutely no anger or annoyance or anything on my part.  It’s an opportunity to show grace, compassion, and that i’d follow her anywhere-even if it was a sweaty ride hauling what felt like half my body weight up and down stairs.  It is a reminder that she is human too.  It is a chance for me to show adoration, in remembrance of all of the little times she could find fault with me and doesn’t.

Our other misadventure was going back home, when our train got delayed four times, and we ended up not leaving Atlanta until midnight.  i had already made arrangements with the front desk to pay to stay late and we had then checked out before the delay notices came, so it wasn’t possible to just pay the half day rate and rest until 8pm.  That would have been better.  Nope.  We ended up chilling on the pool deck together, where they had really awesome sofa-like seating around private tables.  i colored.  i tried to go swimming but the pool literally felt ice cold and wasn’t going to happen.  We talked about setting money aside to go stay in a hotel locally together a few times a year, just for the opportunity to get away and fully connect.  We both really enjoyed after my classes (which ran from 7am-6pm) meeting up in the suite where they had wine and lots of fresh vegetables, salads, soup, and trays of cheese.

Actually, the hardest part of the Residency, for me, (other than the pain) was not being able to serve Sir Raven.  She pretty much always takes care of me in brand new spaces, or spaces where the lighting and people preclude me being able to serve drinks and snacks.  This place had bad lighting for me, and i was just unable to make her snack plates at all.  i tried once, desperate to serve, and made a mess.  Sir Raven took it all in stride, even going out each day to have a lunch ready for me at the pool deck, where we could sit together and enjoy being out of the building.

We both felt like we were in a non consensual leather contest, because-yes, we were always being watched-all of the students are.  And we stick out in any setting, so it was very easy to spot the blind girl and her stunning Master.

The residency experience itself was really awesome!  i felt really lucky with the professor and classmates i got.  She let everyone sit on the floor, even though i was the only person to do it for much of the class because the chairs were hellish.  She let everyone bring laptops, which helped a lot as i had been told we had to handwrite notes only.  We got taped and got lots of practice both being the counselor, and the client.  that was incredibly fun!  i was really humbled at all of the personal things that classmates shared.

At one point, there was a brief discussion about having to break confidentiality to report because it is our duty and obligation under certain considerations, and our professor remarked that these people whose job it is to respond to allegations of abuse have tremendous capacity to hurt.  She shared a personal story which illustrated her point.

All i could think of was sitting infront of a caseworker with a black eye almost swollen shut and second degree burns that were huge oozing painful boils on my hand.  The first thing i told her was i didn’t want to talk to her, that i didn’t want anything to happen to my mommy.  She replied that she had already talked to her, that my mother had told her i did this to myself, and that because i was worried about my mother-she was certain that i had hurt myself and blamed her.  She went on to say that abused children shouldn’t care what happens to their mothers and fathers.

As an adult, that is exactly what i would expect an abused child to be worried about-the person who hurt them, especially if that person is a family member.

The strangest thing-to me-was that it was my right eye that was nearly swollen shut (the only eye that sees anything) and my left hand that suffered from an iron (i’m left handed).  So even looking at this-i’d guess that if a person was going to self harm, they would have at least damaged body parts that they don’t actively need all day long.  But i had already been checked into another psychiatric hospital for “self harm” so it didn’t really matter to anyone what happened to me.

Still, it was a bit of an interesting preshadowing that i remember thinking with the lovely Olivia if she was looking at the scars on my hands and then that came up days later.  i don’t often think about those things at all.  Suffice to say, i have been damaged by any person that i tried to report abuse to lifelong.  Whatever preconceived notions they have about what abused girls and women are, they have unilaterally used their position to re abuse me.  Even the most benevolent cases, where psychiatrists told me they knew without me telling, but simply couldn’t guarantee that i would end up in a placement in foster care that wouldn’t also get me abused was hard to handle.  Florida, at that time, was ripe with abuse and mistreatment happening in foster care homes, in particular those that were deemed “theraputic homes.”  Those homes got substantially more money for taking a couple of extra classes.  Guess where you went if you were already labelled crazy by your mother dumping you off in psychiatric hospitals after knowingly and inappropriately drugging you?  Yep.  Those homes.

So, that was a bit to unpack and think about.

i am always trying to make sure that i am not becoming a therapist out of some fucked up desire to save the world.  Or me.  And i’m not.  Inside, somewhere, is that beaten up kid and i wish that i was able to feel compassion for her, but i just can’t.  i couldn’t at the time.  My dispassionate observer was already there, coldly laying out the facts, the number of years left on my sentence as a child before i could leave her.  Of course, by then i was unable to even formulate that idea.

And on that note, more updates later.  i’m going to have more coffee, take a nice hot shower, and get ready for the farmers market.  i’m behind in making the sauce that i put up for winter.  A vat of sauce is on the menu for today, and i invited a friend over to smoke and talk and do con drop together.  🙂

 

Lunch with friends <3

First, if you missed my post, “For Kaya,” i would really appreciate it if you took the time and read that so you have the opportunity to write letters or share it.

We are back from Residency in Atlanta and leave again tomorrow for MSC.  The best part of Residency was finally meeting Olivia.  Amtrak did a horrible job of getting us there but at least we arrived at the hotel safely.  SR and i had been thinking we would have been there a day earlier to rest, maybe get dinner with Olivia and her lovely partner, and have the whole next day together.  Nope.  So we arrived, i hastily unpacked, and ran for coffee because at that point, i had been awake for 24 hours straight.

Still, i was so very excited because-seriously-getting a hug in with Olivia in real life is on my bucket lists top five important things to do.  ❤

What was really interesting, to me, was lunch felt like this was our fiftieth lunch together.  Like we couldn’t have possibly just touched for the first time minutes ago.  SR said the same thing, and she isn’t known for having that experience often in life.  i am never bitchy when exhausted, but my impulsive and playful side really comes out, so i can only imagine it was like having lunch with a 5 year old.  Shrugs.  That is why i warn people.  heh.  i was super upset because when i went to pack up little things i have collected for Olivia over the years, i realized i was missing something.  Plus, i thought i would have had hours at the hotel to unpack, shower, and then wrap her gifts in purple tissue paper but Amtrak got us to Atlanta many hours late.   Anyhow, i have to love someone to wrap their gifts, because it takes me a really long time, and it always looks like hell.  Still, i didn’t want the teeny treasures unwrapped, and my idea was to simply have it all together in the missing bag and just hand it to her to open later.  Unobtrusive, right?

So, it didn’t work that way.  The universe had another plan in mind, so i got to explain everything.  i sent her a tiny cloth envelope, with a stone in it to promote balance and communication and a tiny medal the size of a dime, that has the Angel Gabriel on it.  It jumped out at me in a metaphysical store years ago, when i obviously didn’t know what the medal read, only that it demanded my attention.  When i was told it was the Angel Gabriel, my heart runneth over and spilled out of my eyes in happiness for my soul and my nephews soul touching.  i kept it with me, so it likely feels like me.  It’s basic physics, not woo.  😛

i had wanted to give Olivia something from the heart, and there isn’t much closer to my heart than my first born nephew Gabriel.  So instead of just handing her a bag of teeny treasures, i had to try and explain that without getting teary.

She remarked that she didn’t bring me gifts.  i immediately reminded her she IS THE GIFT because she drove at least 8 hours to have lunch with me.  At first, when Amtrak messed up, i thought she would cancel.  But she didn’t.  So-literally-she is the person in my life who would drive 8 hours to see me for two.

i loved that she got to finally meet the Great Sir Raven.  i loved even more that Sir Raven asked me later what Olivia’s thoughts were about her, and about us, because that is the only time she has ever asked me something like that.  SR trusts about as easily as i do, and cares about the opinion of people who are in her circle only, like me.  So i really loved that part.

Despite the fact that i have warned Olivia for years that i make people choke on or spit out water (especially my therapists) laughing, i got her!  And i wasn’t even trying!! Score one for little jade. ❤

Olivia is incredibly lovely, and i was very aware of some maternal feelings toward me, even though she is smart enough to have kept her feet on the ground with me over the years.  She has the same wit, humor, and genuine presence in person as i have grown to love and trust.  When we hugged, it was a real hug, and neither of us are particularly huggers.  She has a smile that lights up the room, and a sense of being comfortable in her skin.  Not many women have that, and having it myself i know how hard that is to learn how to do.  i found myself wondering if she could see the scars on my hand, from an iron burn at 14, which was weird because i almost never think of that unless something brings it up.  It didn’t bother me, really, but i found myself thinking that and wishing that we were heading out after lunch to take a leisurely walk on the beach to collect shells together.

i loved being aware in the moment that Sir Raven was so comfortable with her that she would always have a place to stay in NYC before i even asked.  It was that natural-and that never happens.  We are intensely private people.

Sir Raven was, of course, her most charming self.  At one point, she asked me what i might like to drink, which is generally her tacit way of telling me that i can request soda. Permission denied.  😦  Though i had just had a starbucks, so really it wasn’t all that mean. Also i was wired already on sleep deprivation and sugar.

Lunch was over far too soon for all of us, i think.  Then i got to meet her D, who has a very soothing presence and a brain i could feel taking in about a million things per second.   It was really kind of him to indulge us girls and help make this bucket list happen.

i think, once we get our finances ahead a bit, that i would have a pretty easy time of talking Sir Raven into a little trip to visit them.  i’ve been to Where-they-live before, loved it, and know for sure SR would love it as well.  There are a ton of B and B’s and we could be alone and walk on the beach and collect shells together.  So, new bucket list item. 🙂

 

For Kaya

Friends, i know a lot of us were deeply moved by the loss of Brandon, kaya’s beautiful son.  Many of us felt helpless to do anything to help, had no words, and didn’t know what we could do.  i’m asking everyone to take a moment, read through this blog in it’s entirety, and write a victim impact statement.  All of us who know Brandon through kaya can write about how this has effected her and her family.

First, some important thoughts:

i found out about this opportunity via being her facebook friend and spent a few days considering every possible angle before contacting kaya directly to ask her explicit permission to contribute letters and every single idea i could think of, below.  She has agreed and we have gone over this list of additional notes i’m adding here, together.  The last thing i want is any unintended consequences for her or her family.

With that thought in mind,

*please use kaya’s legal name, Teresa.

*please do not link back to your kink blog in any way.  Her bio family may read her other blog and do not need to know how we know her.  i have kaya’s permission to share her site dearbrandonlovemom.com

*please avoid profane language.

*let’s keep the focus on kaya and her family, be respectful, and the compassionate people i know you are.

*i have a very small readership.  However, some of my friends here have a huge readership and you have kaya’s (Teresa) permission to share the link to her blog and this post to your own blog.  Again, please be discreet and don’t add her dearbrandonlovemom.com to your blogs you recommend, change the content of her message in any manner, or do anything which connects kink to her new blog.

*kaya (Teresa)  will have the copies of all of the letters and can decide what she wants to forward to the court.  This will matter now and going forward, as letters can be reviewed by parole boards over time.  Numbers count here.  Not to mention, one of the biggest fears kaya has talked about is the fear her son’s beautiful memory will be lost over time.  Let’s remind her that this will not happen, with letters that can be used for court and kept by her for years to come.

*kaya’s Master’s name is Scott.  Please double check for any accidental words in your letter (Master, slave, cunt).

*If you do share in your blog, i’m asking that you email kaya (Teresa) at the email provided in the body of the message, so she is aware and can read what you wrote for herself.

*please close the letter with your actual name.  For printing purposes, it may be easier for kaya to send the letter as an attachment, saving if it in a format that will not matter if the person printing it is using a mac or pc.

*Finally, please say a prayer or meditation or whatever your spiritual or well wishes may be for kaya (Teresa) and her family.  They are also dealing with hurricane Harvey, seem to have gone through the worst of it, but it has obviously been highly stressful.  They kept electric and have food and water.  i asked about a gofundme page to help with any costs that may have been done during this to their home, but there isn’t one to date.

Under this line is kaya’s (Teresa’s) message.  Should you choose to reblog, please do not alter the message in any manner.

************************************************************************************

For those of you wanting to write an impact letter before the sentencing of Brandon‘s killer, here’s some information I have:

Please send the letters to me directly. You can email them to tesskobs(at)gmail(dot)com, or if you would prefer to mail a hard copy, contact myself, ScottJessa, or Jack for our mailing address. I want them for two reasons. One, I can print them all and mail them priority in bulk so I know they got them and got them on time, and two, I would like a copy of them to keep for myself. It’s helpful to me to know how much Brandon meant to people and how loved he was.

Please put “Impact Statement” in the email subject line so I don’t miss it, and if I don’t reply to you within a few days, resend in case I didn’t get it.

If, for personal reasons, you don’t want us to read your letter, please contact me for a direct mailing address to the victim’s advocate in Marquette County.

I need the letters no later than October 1st. That gives me time to print them and mail them before October 7th. The deadline is October 9th. So please please be mindful of the mailing time.

If you know of anyone who wants to write a letter but is unlikely to see this post, please let them know. The more letters the better. Brandon lived, Brandon mattered, and we are his voice now.

Be aware that the killer also receives a copy of your letter. So don’t include any personal information that you don’t want him to have. (Address, phone number, email address, etc.) You don’t want to leave any way for him to contact you from prison.

Some helpful tips for writing your VIS (Victim Impact Statement):

• don’t describe the crime more than what is necessary to explain how it affected you
(the judge or magistrate already knows about the crime)
• don’t say what sentence you think the offender should get or what should happen to them
(this is the judge or magistrate’s decision)
• don’t mention crimes the offender may have committed in the past
(the judge or magistrate already knows about the offender’s criminal record, and is only sentencing
the offender for the current crime)
• don’t give your opinion about the chance of the offender committing other crimes in the future
• don’t give your opinion about the offender’s ability to change their ways
• don’t give your opinion about the personality or character of the offender. Don’t threaten or abuse the offender, or say what you hope happens to him in prison
• don’t mention how the crime has affected other people
(except if you are making a VIS on behalf of someone else)
• don’t mention other documents that you haven’t attached to your VIS, or that weren’t part of
the court case
• don’t use inappropriate or offensive language.

The most important thing to remember is your VIS should only be about how you’ve been affected by the crime.

Some helpful links:
http://victimsupportservices.org/…/victim-impact-statements/

http://www.pomc.com/impact.html

http://victimsofcrime.org/…/get-he…/victim-impact-statements

The Trauma Dance

If you have periods in your life that there is a definitive before and after, then you probably know trauma.

If you have spent hours, months, every waking thought buried with how could i have prevented this? how could i not have known this was coming?  how come God let this happen to us?  Why couldn’t it have been me? what if i had just been there/had traded places/had not been in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

And then, finally, the constant questioning goes quiet, but for one, it is always the same question, coming in time with every beat of your heart-why?

You find, over the years, that some things spark the trauma back, breathe life back into the monsters, and bring nightmares.  Stress. Exhaustion. Scents. Tastes. Illness.

But its not always what you think, because at least it makes sense to have nightmares when i have been running a fever enough to sweat the entire bed wet for two weeks.

Celebrations. Holidays. Happy moments.  The edge of sleep.  Movies. Sunshine.

The color yellow.

June, July, and August combine all of these together into one.  June and July have holidays, celebrations, memories.  August too.  It’s our Slavery Super Bowl Season, where my Master gets dark and easily annoyed with me, and i have lots of extremely long days and anxious waits.  It is also what i am most happy about, because it just feels fundamentally right  to be used very hard.  i love that feeling, when i have used every single bit of myself in service.  It doesn’t matter to me if it comes from kitchen work, cleaning, fucking, s/m, spirituality, and serving.  i love it all.

This year, i cooked for her Godfather’s Spiritual Birthday and Sir Raven’s.  Ro was an angel as always, reminded me that i know how to do this and to not get stressed, was around to see exactly why i have to work like mad, and took me shopping.  We got to go shop alone, and i felt genuinely honored to be trusted with the task.

In the midst of all of the preparing, i could suddenly hear the music my mother was playing, like i had tuned into her mental radio station, and i couldn’t make it stop.  In the shelter, in the private group therapy, one brave woman admitted that she would smell and sense her abuser in the room, and we learned that was a part of a traumatic response born of disassociation.  i imagine that the psychic connection with my mother is the same thing.  i can’t find anything in the literature about these specific sensations, but i know it is a lot of work to try and tune her out.  Make it stop.

And right after the last post, i ended up sobbing and telling Sir Raven that i had a revelation, and i understood how and why she did what she did.  It was me.  It was my memory problems.  It was me.

We also talked about school, and she told me to drop down to one class at a time, which is still full time schedule and then consider some other options.

i want to say how deeply touched i was with everyone’s replies, and also from the overflowing love i felt channelled to me from time to time.  i will reply privately to each person, but i just really haven’t had any time at all.  It’s been a breakneck pace, and i was extremely sick and have been fighting a nasty infection for a few weeks now.  i am way better than i was, because it got so bad i was forced into bed for about 3 or 4 days straight, just getting up to cook and wash dishes and do the basic chores.

This is the 3rd major illness/flare up in the last 11 weeks.  Sigh.  My classes go so fast that missing a week can fail you, easily.  i kept my B until the last two, somehow.  i am very stressed about it, but also moving into acceptance that if i have to retake them, so be it.  i’m sick.  Not much i can do about that.  Today is the first quiet day since the Spiritual Celebrations, yesterday i was still wired and unsure if more guests would show up, since a few normal guests were not able to make it out Saturday.  This morning, i have been up since 6:45, awash in pain.  On the plus side, Sir Raven is home, and i got to make her breakfast in bed.  And i’m excited, because i quit getting my nails done, and she is sending me for a pedicure today.

i’ve started making lists for packing for my Residency upcoming, and for MSC right after that.  i’m getting excited for both.  i’m a bit nervous over the pain spikes at both that will happen, but that is my life, and all i can do is manage the meds i have very carefully so i can take extra those weeks.  i always try and buy some gifts specially for Sir Raven on her Spiritual Birthday.  This year it was locally harvested fancy honey, and a small wooden bowl for her Altar.  The bowl and spoon were hard carved in Africa.  i also got an awesome deal on amazon prime day on artist markers that are watercolor paints inside, and i was thinking i would pack them for her so she can paint while i’m in my Residency classes.  That was Sir Raven’s other Spiritual Birthday gifty.   And i’m over the moon delighted that i will finally (Finally!!) get to hug my incredibly lovely friend in Atlanta.  Sofia, i can hardly wait to cross hugs and mugs of starbucks with you off my bucket list.  We are planning to go to the Aquarium, because the travel channel ranks it as one of the best in the world.  i don’t know what i will see, if anything, but i can take lots of pictures.  Cept no squid pictures, because Nilla!  Oh!  And they have an enormous gift store!  And really, it doesn’t matter what we are doing, i just want to spend time with a soulmate in person.  ❤ Finally at last!