People say that we are more disconnected than ever before. We have Facebook and e-mail, so we *think* we know what is going on with others, but we actually know less. My thoughts on this are not so much that we are disconnected as we are no longer aware of the rhythms of the lives around us.
When you talk with someone face to face, you can pick up on things that you can't get over the web. When you see someone regularly, you can know when something is really going right or really going wrong. And when you have a regular interaction, you can learn the lingo of their lives and know when it is time to step in and override the objections and help out. The rest of the time, you have a choice - either say nothing at all, or have courage and wade in.
It seems as if everything is just one huge minefield. It seems like there is no way to say the right thing anymore. People have unspeakable hardships happen to them, and when you go to comfort, you learn later that what you said was hurtful. I read a lot of posts on what not to say to Moms whose kids have disabilities, families with cancer, kids who are adopted, people who are getting a divorce, people who are getting married, people who are getting remarried for the third time to their second spouse. Oh, it just goes on and on.
While it is frustrating to not know what to say, it is frustrating also to feel hurt when someone else did not know what to say to you. A well meaning comment can make me rage at times, but it is a silent rage because there is no context and no time for them to understand why it hurt me so. I know they don't know what they said was wrong. But that doesn't stop me from feeling any less hurt, just like the people I inadvertently hurt. Hurt is real hurt.
But I am just wondering why. When did we all get so prickly? Why is it more fun to rage than understand that the other person is trying to connect in an imperfect world of connection? Is this the way the human race is going to end - in a spout of flaming and outrage? Do we really think that people are fundamentally mean?
Oh, I don't know why I am writing all this.
Okay, actually I do - I am currently "biting my tongue" on Facebook to a friend who posted for help with her kids this week. Like it was a huge shock that they were going to be out of school and she didn't know that until yesterday. <-- See the snarkiness? So mean. And the only reason I am feeling mean is because of something she said the other day that was well meaning about H. It just happened to come in at the wrong moment.
I am so very prickly. Why am I so prickly? And why is that kind of reaction (not so) subtly encouraged by others? It is so much more entertaining to be outraged and to watch outrage. Outrage is humorous and laughter is good. But meanness is something else altogether.
And we return to our regularly scheduled lives. A little more wary. Because there are minefields everywhere and it takes courage to speak anymore. But, and I believe this fully, we need to speak. And we need to believe that when others speak, it is from a place of goodness. Even when it hurts. Even when it isn't.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Meditation
Okay, I thought I would do a spanking post. Well, it didn't start out in my head as a spanking post, but as I contemplated it more, I thought, yes! This is going to end up being about spanking!
No, there is no spanking going on over here. When you are barely finding energy for sex, you are grateful to just check off the basics (like more than one orgasm ;0 ). But this is not about that. It is about meditation.
Recently I have noticed that information on meditation has been finding me. Truly, I have not been seeking it and yet, everywhere I look, there it is. Two books in my recent readings have had characters that are meditation masters. People who meditate by just sitting. I have become enamored with this thought.
Sitting still - what a concept.
I can barely sit when I am actually conversing with someone and enjoying myself. I feel like I have to jump up every few minutes and find something to do. And this is about just sitting. Quietly. Not even talking.
In addition to these books, more than one of my friends on Facebook have recently attended silent retreats. For whole weekends! No distractions, no electronics, just quiet. To me that sounds both amazing and horrifying.
I really do appreciate the fact that I'm a much more balanced individual when I can find ways to clear my mind. I used to take Tai Chi and in one class, the instructor routinely had us spend 10 or more minutes doing "standing meditation". When I first started the class, all I could think about was how much my thighs were shaking as we just stood there, knees slightly bent, back straight and eyes forward. But within a few months, I was able to go with it and get to a more thoughtful place.
In the last two years, I have moved from active meditation at class to a more passive form - attending an orchestral presentation, or keeping classical music on in the house and the car. I find that I can lose myself in good music and reach a similar clearing of the mind. A really good concert can leave me feeling refreshed all week long.
Which brings me back to spanking. When H and I started our initial contract, I (ahem) wheedled my first spanking out of him within a few days. After the ice was broken (so to speak), we practiced maintenance spankings, good girl spankings and pleasure spankings for most of the next year and a half. I'll tell you what, I took to spanking like I was born for it. (A true spanko? Who knows - I didn't fantasize about it when I was younger or any of the other stuff you hear about, but once I had it, I wanted more. Ever more.)
Because of my spanking aptitude, I just figured I was a pain slut. I gloried in the pain of it, the burn on my bottom/thighs for days and I continually requested that H keep pushing those boundaries. But just today, I realized (or maybe I re-realized - like I knew it once and I forgot) that spanking and pain are a kind of meditation.
To get through a hundred lashes from the flogger, you have to focus in. And the pain is like the music, it fills up the head and then you float away on it.
So yes, maybe I AM a pain slut. Or maybe, I just really need ways to clear my mind. Perhaps it is a whole lot of both.
(I miss spanking. But not so much that I want to seek out another way to find it. A year ago, I didn't think I would ever live without it again. Strange the difference a year can make. Anyway, in the meantime, the orchestra and the books and the sitting are all providing some of that.)
No, there is no spanking going on over here. When you are barely finding energy for sex, you are grateful to just check off the basics (like more than one orgasm ;0 ). But this is not about that. It is about meditation.
Recently I have noticed that information on meditation has been finding me. Truly, I have not been seeking it and yet, everywhere I look, there it is. Two books in my recent readings have had characters that are meditation masters. People who meditate by just sitting. I have become enamored with this thought.
Sitting still - what a concept.
I can barely sit when I am actually conversing with someone and enjoying myself. I feel like I have to jump up every few minutes and find something to do. And this is about just sitting. Quietly. Not even talking.
In addition to these books, more than one of my friends on Facebook have recently attended silent retreats. For whole weekends! No distractions, no electronics, just quiet. To me that sounds both amazing and horrifying.
I really do appreciate the fact that I'm a much more balanced individual when I can find ways to clear my mind. I used to take Tai Chi and in one class, the instructor routinely had us spend 10 or more minutes doing "standing meditation". When I first started the class, all I could think about was how much my thighs were shaking as we just stood there, knees slightly bent, back straight and eyes forward. But within a few months, I was able to go with it and get to a more thoughtful place.
In the last two years, I have moved from active meditation at class to a more passive form - attending an orchestral presentation, or keeping classical music on in the house and the car. I find that I can lose myself in good music and reach a similar clearing of the mind. A really good concert can leave me feeling refreshed all week long.
Which brings me back to spanking. When H and I started our initial contract, I (ahem) wheedled my first spanking out of him within a few days. After the ice was broken (so to speak), we practiced maintenance spankings, good girl spankings and pleasure spankings for most of the next year and a half. I'll tell you what, I took to spanking like I was born for it. (A true spanko? Who knows - I didn't fantasize about it when I was younger or any of the other stuff you hear about, but once I had it, I wanted more. Ever more.)
Because of my spanking aptitude, I just figured I was a pain slut. I gloried in the pain of it, the burn on my bottom/thighs for days and I continually requested that H keep pushing those boundaries. But just today, I realized (or maybe I re-realized - like I knew it once and I forgot) that spanking and pain are a kind of meditation.
To get through a hundred lashes from the flogger, you have to focus in. And the pain is like the music, it fills up the head and then you float away on it.
So yes, maybe I AM a pain slut. Or maybe, I just really need ways to clear my mind. Perhaps it is a whole lot of both.
(I miss spanking. But not so much that I want to seek out another way to find it. A year ago, I didn't think I would ever live without it again. Strange the difference a year can make. Anyway, in the meantime, the orchestra and the books and the sitting are all providing some of that.)
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Sleeping Together
When we first got together, we would snuggle all night long. H would hold me and I would hold him and we slept well. I remember one night we fell asleep on his large couch and I held onto his penis all night long. I don't know why, I just did.
But as time wore on, we (okay, me) started pushing away. There was always an arm in the way or hair or who knows... we just started sleeping further and further apart.
Eventually, it was like sleeping alone again. So much like being alone that I would swing my arm out as if no one was there. Punching out and hitting H - once in the eye. Yes, he had a black eye for days. H was still working then and had to field questions about his black eye. (What, does your wife beat you? So funny...)
As I have gained a bit of weight over the years, I feel like we slept even further apart. My now even larger breasts would roll to the side and put my arm to sleep. When we spooned I felt like my arm and shoulder were jammed and even though it started out nice, I had to move away all too soon.
Inevitably, I suggested that we move up from a queen size bed into a king. Then I would have room for a body pillow to snuggle with as I slept. (Note that body pillows don't have arms.) Not surprisingly, he was adamant. No. We should be close.
That is H. He has always liked things how he likes them. Normally when I describe him that way, others who know him well will nod and say, Yes, he is stubborn. Pigheaded. Set in his ways. Rigid. I just shake my head and smile.
You see, I have never felt it was worth the fight to get things a different way, because I was never that committed to stuff or how things look.
I guess you could say that he has dominated the structure of our life since the beginning, and other than a few tweaks here and there, I just folded into his sphere. Because I fit there.
So, we still sleep in a queen size bed, and I make a point of trying to touch him as much as possible. Throwing an arm over him or placing my head near his shoulders. Because he likes it and I want more than anything for him to be happy.
H did not sleep well last night. I woke up a few times to an empty bed next to me. And instead of stretching my arms and my body out, I felt alone.
He finally got to bed way too late because he had to be up way too early. When I became aware that he was there, I snuggled into him. Just like we used to. And my hair got in the way. And there was an arm awkwardly tucked under me, but still, we finally slept. Together.
But as time wore on, we (okay, me) started pushing away. There was always an arm in the way or hair or who knows... we just started sleeping further and further apart.
Eventually, it was like sleeping alone again. So much like being alone that I would swing my arm out as if no one was there. Punching out and hitting H - once in the eye. Yes, he had a black eye for days. H was still working then and had to field questions about his black eye. (What, does your wife beat you? So funny...)
As I have gained a bit of weight over the years, I feel like we slept even further apart. My now even larger breasts would roll to the side and put my arm to sleep. When we spooned I felt like my arm and shoulder were jammed and even though it started out nice, I had to move away all too soon.
Inevitably, I suggested that we move up from a queen size bed into a king. Then I would have room for a body pillow to snuggle with as I slept. (Note that body pillows don't have arms.) Not surprisingly, he was adamant. No. We should be close.
That is H. He has always liked things how he likes them. Normally when I describe him that way, others who know him well will nod and say, Yes, he is stubborn. Pigheaded. Set in his ways. Rigid. I just shake my head and smile.
You see, I have never felt it was worth the fight to get things a different way, because I was never that committed to stuff or how things look.
I guess you could say that he has dominated the structure of our life since the beginning, and other than a few tweaks here and there, I just folded into his sphere. Because I fit there.
So, we still sleep in a queen size bed, and I make a point of trying to touch him as much as possible. Throwing an arm over him or placing my head near his shoulders. Because he likes it and I want more than anything for him to be happy.
H did not sleep well last night. I woke up a few times to an empty bed next to me. And instead of stretching my arms and my body out, I felt alone.
He finally got to bed way too late because he had to be up way too early. When I became aware that he was there, I snuggled into him. Just like we used to. And my hair got in the way. And there was an arm awkwardly tucked under me, but still, we finally slept. Together.
Monday, November 18, 2013
A Blank Canvas
I have a blog that is now a blank canvas. I think each new day starts like that - I don't know what it will bring.
Actually, if you look deeply at the canvas - it is not blank. As you stare into it, you will start to see a mosaic of small threads that make up a life. Each of us comes to a new day, or a new blog, with a history of feelings, thoughts and experiences.
My history is varied - from lonely little girl to slutty college coed to wife. The last is perhaps most surprising to me. Not because I didn't expect to get married. On the contrary, I always thought I would, because that is what girls do. But I didn't think it would be such an important role to me.
After all, I am a strong woman, who doesn't need a man to complete her.
Ha.
I also didn't think I would suck at it. Or at least I used to suck at it. Now, I think I am getting the hang of it. Finally.
This is an age when roles are confused, conditioning has overtaken biological imperative and boys mostly can't be men, while women mostly can't be ladies. (Can't? Or just don't know how? I don't know.)
I told the story of how we met once on these pages and I think I will tell it again - a piece at a time. To fill in that canvas.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While I have been away, I have intermittently read other blogs that I come across. More daily life blogs. Blogs written by people who just spew love and acceptance and healing all over their pages. As always, there are posts that generate controversy, but the blog author(s) seem to meet those with love and a "Hey, I hear you! You don't agree with me and we are all okay!" I want to be like that.
Full of grace and acceptance. Maybe someday I will be. Maybe someday we all will be.
Actually, if you look deeply at the canvas - it is not blank. As you stare into it, you will start to see a mosaic of small threads that make up a life. Each of us comes to a new day, or a new blog, with a history of feelings, thoughts and experiences.
My history is varied - from lonely little girl to slutty college coed to wife. The last is perhaps most surprising to me. Not because I didn't expect to get married. On the contrary, I always thought I would, because that is what girls do. But I didn't think it would be such an important role to me.
After all, I am a strong woman, who doesn't need a man to complete her.
Ha.
I also didn't think I would suck at it. Or at least I used to suck at it. Now, I think I am getting the hang of it. Finally.
This is an age when roles are confused, conditioning has overtaken biological imperative and boys mostly can't be men, while women mostly can't be ladies. (Can't? Or just don't know how? I don't know.)
I told the story of how we met once on these pages and I think I will tell it again - a piece at a time. To fill in that canvas.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While I have been away, I have intermittently read other blogs that I come across. More daily life blogs. Blogs written by people who just spew love and acceptance and healing all over their pages. As always, there are posts that generate controversy, but the blog author(s) seem to meet those with love and a "Hey, I hear you! You don't agree with me and we are all okay!" I want to be like that.
Full of grace and acceptance. Maybe someday I will be. Maybe someday we all will be.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Life Is Not A Game
This is cross posted on both of my blogs.
It has been three months and twenty days since I said I was taking a break. Not that anyone is counting. During that time, I have started a thousand posts in my head, but then I never wrote them out. You see, I have this blog and it is my sex blog. I have a persona on this blog that is very specific. H has one here as well. And to be quite frank, these persona's are not our current reality.
H's illness has worsened throughout 2013. You wouldn't know it to look at him, and he is keeping up with the day to day of most things, but there is no sex. Or, more appropriately, there is very little sex. There is no bitterness when I say that. There really isn't.
As this year has wound along, and as H has woken up every day to face pain that I can't even imagine, always dedicated to me and to our family, the bonds of our relationship have strengthened in a way that is both beautiful and tight. H still holds my soul in his hands. He still binds me. But he does it in cords of love.
I can honestly say that H is the only person in the entire world that I have ever begun to love all the way. Without regard for appearance, or action in a specific situation - just him, all the way. That is probably the largest act of submission that a person is capable of giving. At least a person who is me.
Which brings me back to this blogging business. I want to spill my love and the guts of our story all over this blog that we have. It is the story of us and this is our blog.
But every time I sat to write, I knew that anything I said was false, because we are not these persona's right now. And I knew, that no matter what, I could not keep up with those people that we once were and that I would have to pretend to be. So eventually, inevitably, I would stop blogging again. And every time you stop, it is a little bit harder to come back. It feels a little bit more false - like you have broken some sort of pact with the people who read.
This last week H was out of town and I promised myself that I would deal with this blog business one way or another before he gets back. Well, I left it to the very last minute as I have to go get him at the airport soon (so this post is not as pretty and edited as I would prefer - apologies).
With no small amount of trepidation, I logged into my blogger account for the first time in months. (I have been checking the e-mail as promised, but I have not once looked at a blog or the blogger account.) I logged in and I scanned through my feed. I clicked on a few favorite bloggers and read their latest stories. I smiled at what I saw, even as my heart sunk.
We are not currently those people.
As I clicked around half heartedly, wondering how I was going to "deal with this blog business", my eye landed on my other blog. The blog titled K and H - Discipline Desires.
When I started blogging all that time ago, as many of you know, I initially started off with two blogs - Kitty the Submissive Wife and K and H - Discipline Desires. The second blog was an exploration of Domestic Discipline and as our path took us further into sexual submission and away from DD, that blog was shelved. But it is perhaps fortuitous that I have both.
Our life (through no choice of ours) is not about sexual submission right now. Our life is about K and H and our desires, played out through the day to day of surviving and relying on each other. So, I slip for now - from the blog of Kitty the Submissive Wife and I move back over to K and H - Desires.
All the content will remain on http://thesubmissivewife.blogspot.com/ and may be referenced from time to time. Who knows, I might even add a sexual sexcapade when I feel ready. But if you want to find me (not the cock worshipping spanking sexual me, but the so in love with her husband who still holds her hard as he slips into sleep me), you will have to go to that blog - that blog holds the persona's that we are right now. http://k-and-h-desires.blogspot.com/.
Please note that the address has changed (my apologies to the 14 people who were following that blog).
H's Kitty (fka Kitty the Submissive Wife)
It has been three months and twenty days since I said I was taking a break. Not that anyone is counting. During that time, I have started a thousand posts in my head, but then I never wrote them out. You see, I have this blog and it is my sex blog. I have a persona on this blog that is very specific. H has one here as well. And to be quite frank, these persona's are not our current reality.
H's illness has worsened throughout 2013. You wouldn't know it to look at him, and he is keeping up with the day to day of most things, but there is no sex. Or, more appropriately, there is very little sex. There is no bitterness when I say that. There really isn't.
As this year has wound along, and as H has woken up every day to face pain that I can't even imagine, always dedicated to me and to our family, the bonds of our relationship have strengthened in a way that is both beautiful and tight. H still holds my soul in his hands. He still binds me. But he does it in cords of love.
I can honestly say that H is the only person in the entire world that I have ever begun to love all the way. Without regard for appearance, or action in a specific situation - just him, all the way. That is probably the largest act of submission that a person is capable of giving. At least a person who is me.
Which brings me back to this blogging business. I want to spill my love and the guts of our story all over this blog that we have. It is the story of us and this is our blog.
But every time I sat to write, I knew that anything I said was false, because we are not these persona's right now. And I knew, that no matter what, I could not keep up with those people that we once were and that I would have to pretend to be. So eventually, inevitably, I would stop blogging again. And every time you stop, it is a little bit harder to come back. It feels a little bit more false - like you have broken some sort of pact with the people who read.
This last week H was out of town and I promised myself that I would deal with this blog business one way or another before he gets back. Well, I left it to the very last minute as I have to go get him at the airport soon (so this post is not as pretty and edited as I would prefer - apologies).
With no small amount of trepidation, I logged into my blogger account for the first time in months. (I have been checking the e-mail as promised, but I have not once looked at a blog or the blogger account.) I logged in and I scanned through my feed. I clicked on a few favorite bloggers and read their latest stories. I smiled at what I saw, even as my heart sunk.
We are not currently those people.
As I clicked around half heartedly, wondering how I was going to "deal with this blog business", my eye landed on my other blog. The blog titled K and H - Discipline Desires.
When I started blogging all that time ago, as many of you know, I initially started off with two blogs - Kitty the Submissive Wife and K and H - Discipline Desires. The second blog was an exploration of Domestic Discipline and as our path took us further into sexual submission and away from DD, that blog was shelved. But it is perhaps fortuitous that I have both.
Our life (through no choice of ours) is not about sexual submission right now. Our life is about K and H and our desires, played out through the day to day of surviving and relying on each other. So, I slip for now - from the blog of Kitty the Submissive Wife and I move back over to K and H - Desires.
All the content will remain on http://thesubmissivewife.blogspot.com/ and may be referenced from time to time. Who knows, I might even add a sexual sexcapade when I feel ready. But if you want to find me (not the cock worshipping spanking sexual me, but the so in love with her husband who still holds her hard as he slips into sleep me), you will have to go to that blog - that blog holds the persona's that we are right now. http://k-and-h-desires.blogspot.com/.
Please note that the address has changed (my apologies to the 14 people who were following that blog).
H's Kitty (fka Kitty the Submissive Wife)
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