Ephemera * Etherea

Moving on

(Yes, this is something of a letter and in a way it is not.)

From the moment I knew, that was the mode I slipped into.

Moving on.

It doesn’t mean that I do not feel. It doesn’t mean I do not hurt.

I know you heard it in my voice. I couldn’t hide it from you, but I wasn’t going to fall apart on that call.

Nor at anytime with you about this.

No, I am not sitting here focusing on that which is done.

Moving on…

…means I have to find a way to deal with the pain and heal. It means crying, it means being upset. It means taking step by step until I am over it.

It means writing in my blog about how I feel.

I know you don’t want me to hurt over you. I know it makes you feel guilty. That it makes you hurt too. But in this you cannot help.

I think four days out, I’m not doing such a bad job.

Yes I am a woman.

And amazingly in spite of that, I do know how to move on.

Think back over this week and tell me differently.

Tell me I’ve made demands on you that you cannot fulfill. Tell me I’ve clung to the past (even if the past was but a blink ago). Tell me I’ve been unreasonable. Tell me I’ve fallen apart on you. Tell me I’ve asked you to choose me.

Tell me I didn’t try to stop the wrecking ball.

I’ve not uttered a word except to help and to wish you happiness and love.

And that’s all I want.

I am not waiting for something to happen that may never happen.

Amazingly sensible for a woman no? Being wired in such womanly ways. (Am I harping? You didn’t think I’d catch that comment?)

Remember who was the D and who was the s my love.

Yes, I’m a little tender and sensitive inside. Nothing can be done about it. Time has to pass.

Do not worry after me. I cannot promise you that I will not shed tears over this.

But have I shown you much beyond a smile this week?

I will be ok.

Twisty twisting twisted

I don’t even know how it came up. Just that it knocked me for six and opened a floodgate I’ve decided to keep closed for just when I am with her.

Just conversation. To talk to her because I want to. Because I like to.

I will be a friend. And somehow it makes me feel better knowing I am helping somehow in possible happiness. Do I have to be the source of it? No.

I will train my mind on the concept that I would have been wrong for her regardless of if it’s actually true.

I can be insane at any other time but not when I’m with her and not about this.

Maybe I am making too big a deal of this.

Three weeks right? Too soon to be in love with someone.

Two months may be too soon to be in love with someone too for all I know. (Two months tomorrow I would have joined the Family). Another issue all it’s own.

But I don’t care. I am going to be and do what I feel for once. Sue me.

~~~

Maybe she wants me to dislike her. To be angry with her.

Maybe even to imagine that she is cruel. Dangling the possibility in front of me like that. The idea that she’s not sure that she made the right choice.

Why even talk about it? It hurts. Just leave it.

Planting such a thought.

Perhaps it is exciting knowing that she is desired like this.

Knowing I dislike people who toy with the emotions of others.

Telling me not to let her hurt me, because perhaps she is only being selfish.

And then what?

Cut things off and vanish from her life.

I wonder if that is what she wants. Would it make her happy never to hear from me again?

~~~

This is not a game.

There is nothing funny about what I feel, that the thing that I want can be so casually spoken of as if it doesn’t hurt.

What is, is. What isn’t, isn’t.

My emotions are not bouncy balls to be played with.

I’m not an amusement. Tread carefully.

~~~

Do I regret anything?

No.

I only wish I had let myself take at least one more week of caution. Just one more… and maybe the thing I thought might happen, wouldn’t have had such an impact on me when it did.

~~~

(And if you are reading this, you should be ashamed that you cannot do just this one last thing that I’ve asked you to do for me.)

Now…

what can I say of my feelings.

For the last three weeks, they’ve bounced around. Side to side, up and down, all around. Anger. Hurt. Fear. Yearning. Loneliness. Sadness. Mostly, they were down feelings.

And I did not write of it. I could not find it in me to express what I felt.

~~~

There was one port in the storm.

But she was so much more than that.

Not a replacement for anyone.

Bright feelings. Lusty. Funny. Carefree. Loving. Soft. Warm. Comfort.

There was an instant where I felt just fine. These past few days. Just fine.

Reassured finally by Daddy and no longer feeling down.

Everything seemed like it would be ok.

Nothing to be sad about.

New things to be happy about in fact.

~~~

Then that ended.

~~~

And still I cry. Whenever my eyes decide they want to leak.

In my head I always think I should have better control. Not seem weak.

Funny thing for a girl in this society to think, I suppose, yet I do.

And now I’m tired of hiding or putting up a pretense of being all right.

Tired of “holding it together.”

I’m not.

Not all right.

Not going to pretend to be.

Don’t know when I’ll be all right either.

If that’s tough for some to be around, they can suck it.

~~~

There is one thing that may to make me feel better.

Ironic as it is, I will do it until I’m told to stop.

It’s not about me

I cannot touch him.

I cannot hug him.

I cannot reassure him of my presence when the presence of another seems faded.

The laughter can be shared.

The tears cannot.

More is needed. The distance is too wide.

I can sit and listen to the pain.

In his voice. In his words.

A pain not unlike something that devastated me.

I can feel the echoes of it. So much so that I want to run.

But how can I, when this is the only thing I can give right now?

Text and voice and a virtual presence.

I feel so helpless.

How does a little girl protect her Daddy?

In this moment I don’t want to be reassured.

I want to reassure, and in reassuring, be reassured that I can be more to him than just text, voice and pixels.

To show the truth of what I feel, to give him something bright in the midst of the dark.

The Creation Story

*giggles*

Not that one.

Who has been following me for the longest? Probably my best friend on SL, Caritas.

For a long time I had been wondering how to express my feelings and thoughts about my experiences on Second Life.

My general blog wasn’t appropriate.

The desire would come and go in waves.

What prompted me to finally create a blog for SL was the devastation I felt over a break up. I was an overflowing cup of sorrow and I didn’t feel that I could speak to my friends about it as much as I needed to.

The early posts were many of me wondering if he would come back, blogging about the fact that he said he still loved me which sparked such hope, talking about the fact that we had danced yet talked of nothing about us. Touching with everything but our hearts. He strung me along for quite a time. I don’t know why I let that happen… why I tried so hard to get him back when my default instinct is to cut someone off.

It was a Valentine’s Day de-partnering. Thank goodness that day doesn’t mean anything for me. I hurled every object he had ever given me in such anger that first night, including the Lover’s Knot, our partnership symbol. And then every night after that until my birthday I cried for him. A month. I felt as though I had lost my mind. He was my first partner on Second Life. He was the first person I had bumped avatars with even and truly roleplayed intimacy together. Four months after joining SL.

He was the first love, Dominant, Daddy that I declared to everyone as loudly as I could that I belonged to him. I loved him. I was in love with him. I was lost in it. No matter what other emotions I’d ever felt at him, I loved him. Always.

It’s been a little over 9 months…

I haven’t dwelt on it much since then, except perhaps to note that the baby girl after me didn’t last very long, and now he’s on to the next, partnered even.

My next relationship reminded me so much of the previous that maybe I broke it. One moment tears. The next trying hard to keep some distance.

I’ve pushed it down. I know others are not like him. And I know there are others who are just like him.

I don’t know if I can let myself…

this is where I lose words.

It feels all connected to each other.

It’s as though I am hidden under the frozen snow, frozen earth, roots, rocks. And all that has to be dug through to get to me.

Who would I want to put through all that?

Already I feel some stirring in the earth above. It makes me scared and uncomfortable, shifting me out of the comfortable freeze. But then the promise of sunshine and warmth is there too.

The fact that I have found… (or rather that I have been found) and can see something that could be finally what I need… throws my mind back to the past.

Warm moments, reassuring voices, coaxing, making me feel safe.

To have it disappear in an instant. Anger and then nothing.

I don’t know that I can move forward, carefree and hopeful, without getting past that.

Perhaps I need to do what they did in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Erase unpleasant memories. And I know I’m missing the point of how the movie ended, but oh well… that’s how I’m feeling right now.

The beginning of the end…

Ok, well I don’t mean to make it sound so dire.

At work in First Life and it happened…

In the ladies room, I giggled remembering something that happened over the weekend with my family. My Daddy in particular. I hadn’t even logged into Skype yet to tell everyone I was at work.

It’s an involuntary thing. Your mind drifts from thought cloud to thought cloud, and that was where I landed.

I caught myself. And then I worried.

It’s a sign that at least I’m more emotionally involved than I expected to be… intended to be… something.

Remembering and feeling heartened by something…

Feels like the beginning of the end…

And if I’m falling… who is going to catch me…

*sighs*

Passive Aggression

I don’t like passive aggression. I like to be direct. I don’t sit and seethe and lie in wait to bring it up over and over again. I deal with it at the time and place.

But what to do when I don’t feel I have an outlet to express something I am upset about.

Examine whether or not it really is important perhaps.

When I look at the thing that made me upset, I realize I am becoming invested in something that I said I wouldn’t let myself. And so I stop and disconnect.

Compassion, Understanding, And What Turns You On

Today was my first time attending and participating in the weekly family meeting. Announcements were made and concerns discussed then we went on to speak about deeper matters that touch us as submissives. The whys and the needs behind why we are what we are. However, what struck is that is that the Dominants were also asked the whys and the needs behind what they are. I think because of this, a level of understanding going both ways was felt within the family.

I felt a warmth being with my fellow submissives and with my Master. A sense that we were all able to see each other (think ‘I see you’ in Avatar) and comprehend some of the things that drive us and make us tick.

I felt a genuine comfort being there during that meeting.

I also felt that perhaps I was seen differently by my Master. Or perhaps that an aspect of myself came under a more direct light. All this, because of my answers to the questions.

And now Sir is no longer Sir alone. He is Daddy. And I am his baby girl. I have many feelings about this. Some happy. Some scared. Some tearful.

He offered and I took. It is something that I want… it is something I need… yet two weeks in… there is much in my mind and heart that I don’t feel ready to place here.

~~~

As in any family of a certain size, there were some skirmishes and flare ups.

Today was no exception.

~~~

The skirmishes were centered on a title. A term. A five lettered word. Slave.

What is the main thing that I have taken from this and wish to express?

~~~

I get turned on or turned on more when someone whispers in my ear “such a good little girl.” In another instance, scene, what have you, I get turned on when someone whispers in my ear “Such a good little whore.” Different reasons, but with similar results I’m sure. But both with me in a submissive position.

Others don’t have the same reaction. Others don’t like the word.

That is fine and I do not take offense. In fact, if my lover hates it, I would never say it to him or her or expect them to say it to me. It doesn’t turn their key and I understand.

On the other side, there are words that don’t do it for me at best, and repulse me utterly at worse. But I know those words connect with others in a positive way. It turns their key.

For this too, I understand. I do not think less of those who have different keys than I do.

But I am the sort who would use the keys that I found with my lover to manipulate them in whatever way they wished me to manipulate them.

~~~

Is the fact that I dislike the term slave and don’t want it attributed to me, a statement of my view of your worth because you do like the word and want it attributed to you?

No.

It is stating my personal preference, which is about me, the same as your personal preference is about you. Stating my personal preference is not stating something about you. It’s stating something about me.

I don’t have to see your words in a positive light to understand why it turns your key. I don’t need to see your words in a positive light to respect you as another submissive. And I don’t need to see your words in a positive light to expect you to respect my wish not to be called them.

~~~

I respect. I offer compassion and understanding. Simply. And I wish the same in return.

Our kinks may be different. What holds value for us in BDSM may be different, yet that is the realm we exist in. We should be the last people to offer disdain, disbelief or ridicule to another kinky person because someone doesn’t like the same word we do but cums buckets over a word we despise.

~Love and Light~

Re: Puss in Boots & Relationships

I got a few reblogs and comments on my previous blog post. No I don’t mind you snipping off the top of the post and only reblogging the relationship part ProudPoly. *grins* I’m glad it connected for some of you, gave a bit of hope for others and intrigued those who had never heard of such a family. In a way it encourages me to write more.

~Ebony

Puss In Boots & Relationships

I went to see Puss In Boots tonight. It was great :-) It was not freezing cold out like it was on Wednesday. In fact, there was almost a breezy summer night feel to it. The sky was completely clear and you could see stars. One thing I will miss if we leave here. It was a calming night that was needed.

~~~

I am not sure if anyone in my new found family will read my entries here but I will write something that pertains to what was discussed when I was on Second Life earlier today. I said a little of it there but I will write more here.

~~~

This is my perspective.

In a poly family (let alone a poly bdsm family), there exist many relationships.

In the case of a poly and bdsm family I see the following:

Master and submissive.

Master and family.

Submissive and submissive.

Submissive and family.

Submissive and other lovers who may not be within the family.

There is also the relationship a submissive has with herself. Self-esteem, personal care, etc.

I feel that each of these are equally crucial. One shouldn’t supersede the other. They should all exist symbiotically. At any given time any submissive may feel they need to work on one of these relationships more than the other. A way of maintaining their own unique balance. What one submissive needs another may not.

~~~

Even in a family there are individual relationships, and things that are kept sacred within those individual relationships whether they are submissive and submissive or Master and his submissive. There are boundaries.

There are things shared between a Master and his submissive that should not be the domain of another submissive to peruse and know at will.

~~~

While I build confidence and trust in the new relationships I find in my new family, I realize that on the flip side, the family as a whole and as individuals must build confidence and trust in having me as a new member.

I can only say that I would not do anything to hurt or break the family. I would leave before that happened. Last person in, first person out, as hideous as that may sound. I have not said this to be a martyr or to gain pity. It simply is. I’ve curbed idealism to a certain extent.

I understand that you may have insecurities. But I ask that you understand that because you do not know every detail of another’s relationship with Sir does not mean that there exists some threat to your relationship with him. A family is full of unique relationships. If Sir and I share a love of peanut butter, it doesn’t lessen yours and his shared love of jelly.

I’m a new addition and that means the family re-balances for that… but I hope you will trust that your bonds are strong

and have faith that I’m not a goblin or something lol.