Category Archives: Uncategorized

Broken

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It’s a difficult decision whether or not  to file for bankruptcy.  Particularly in business.  When you have invested so much sweat equity, borrowed on margin at times, and given your last dime to see the thing through.

There comes a time though, when there simply is no return on your investment and you’re in the red.   It’s time to realize it’s gone belly up.  Time for Chapter 11.

So too, a relationship can go the same way.   You read the self-help books, voiced your concerns, arguments happened, distance occurred .  You moved to going to individual therapy, you voiced your concerns, arguments still happened, more distance occurred.   You did the couples counseling gig, the proverbial shit really hit the fan, distance? no…. now there was  just resentment and lots of it.

No one wants to lose such a long-term investment.  But when it becomes a daily dose of vitriol an untenable battlefield emerges, it becomes a veritable toxic environment.  It has become a relationship on life-support.

I find myself in such a position.  My logical brain tells me it’s way past the time to let go and move on and yet my emotions make me second guess my decision.

It’s tearing me up inside and I’ve become physically ill and worn thin.  I can’t sleep anymore, I’m anxious most of the time, I don’t feel joy.  All of this has been ongoing, while I was trying to my bury my mum, who was my best friend, my touch stone.

I rather feel like a gutted fish about now.  The one person who I could always turn to for direction, is with God.  Wherever that is.   I just wish they had WordPress there, so she could could read this and write me back a reply with what to do with my crazy pain-filled shit-show of a life.   She always seemed to know just what to say, from the sage advise to a self-effacing comment to keep me going.  She was always my North Star, I just never thought she’d be up in the sky.   ⭐️

 

 

 


On forgiveness

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Something has been bothering me.  I had acquired this follower on Instagram which is linked to my blog.  I only have a handful of followers so when I get a new set of eyes, it’s like Christmas morning.  It’s a gift and I feel pretty excited about it.

I look at each follower’s photographs one by one.  Carefully.  If they have a blog or webpage, I will check that out too.  I believe in making connections with people.  Or at least trying.  I believe that we were put here to love one another.   Hard-wired for connectedness.

This particular follower was a Catholic deacon who was about to be ordained as a priest in a few weeks.   He liked several of my photos.   Then, without warning he unfollowed me.   I had almost forgotten that my Instagram account is linked to this blog.  I wondered why.  My intuition told me it had to do with my blog which link is displayed at the top of the Instagram page.

At any given time I write in my blog about an array of topics that are pertinent to me.    My recovery, something I find funny, poignant, or just something I want to share.  Things can run the gammit and some can be off-color.  Everything from the childhood sexual abuse I endured,  to BDSM which I found myself led into as an adult; groomed for by the complex childhood trauma itself.

At the time the deacon stopped following my Instagram account, my blog post at that time was about a sexual strap-on fantasy.  I realized in that moment, he probably judged me as a sinner and sexually immoral.

So I wrote him this message,

”Good evening Deacon, I see that you have stopped following me on Instagram. I’m assuming it’s because you visited my blog on WordPress, read one post and judged me. You will be entering the priesthood soon. May I suggest, not moving so quick to judgment, that is for God. Last I checked you are but a man. You would do well though to live by compassion, mercy, and kindness. Teach Christ’s love by example, yes? God bless you.” 

I felt really hurt because I felt judged and assumed he sort of shamed me Scarlet letter style.  I expected better from a potential man of the cloth.  Why couldn’t he he see all the suffering I had been through? Where was his compassion? As is sometines the case, I didn’t “sit” with my emotions and fired off the text to him.

A few weeks after I sent my text I feel ashamed.  Why was I so reactive? Why didn’t I just let it go? Why did I have to let him know that he was being judgmental? Will my words even even matter to him? I’ve been holding onto this wound, this resentment towards him.   I should have prayed for him and then let it go, but I didn’t.

Someone once told me that the one thing that separates man from the animals is the ability to pray.  That deeply resonated with me.

“To err is human to forgive, divine.”-Alexander Pope

Perhaps it is “I” who needs to start on working on forgiveness.   Focus less about calling him out on his shit and trying being “right.”

 

 

 

 


Something to rely on

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Photo: (mine) – The Marina –       Brattleboro, VT    2018

 

There are so many factors in life that are out of my control.  I can’t contol people, places, or things.  On good days, I find that sometimes I can’t even control myself.  A negative thought will drift in, my temper will flare, sadness will envelope me. I don’t always know how to sort them out.

Tumultuous emotions swirl within me, morose feelings can stir and despite this blue skies can be be smiling at me.

I believe that is why I find myself more grounded in nature.  Though the winds change direction and the rain may come and go, in a world of loss and constant change, I know the sun will  rise and set everyday.


Brokeback Mountain

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I created this meme because it’s true.  There’s something about seeing two hot men being intimate that really wets my whistle.  😋

 


1 small positive thought

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“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream another dream.” -C.S. Lewis

#onesmallpositivethought #sisters #mymaria #loveyouforevermom

 


Start each day with one small positive thought

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photo:  mine

After our mom died this past January my sister and I haven’t been the same.   Our mom was such a thoughtful and creative, and artistic, woman.  The ALS may have robbed her of the ability to walk, speak, swallow, move, and eventually breathe but it never robbed her of her beautiful soul nor her giving nature.  She never gave that thoughtfulness up til the day she died.  Be it a smile or mouthing an “I love you” or “Good morning my beautiful.”

For my birthday in May my sister sent me this tiny box with little folded notes.  Inside the box she wrote a note of her own.  It read,” I know Mom sent us both positive text messages or calls nearly every day sometimes.   I’m sure you miss it, I do.  So here are some positive thoughts for you- pick one from the box when you need one.  One is extra special! Love, me”

Today I opened the first, it was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt:

“ You must do the things you think you cannot do.”

❤️

 


Awesome reblog!

Have you ever bought a movie ticket, hated the film, but kept watching to get your money’s worth? You end up losing the ticket cost and two hours of your life that would have been better spent not watching Nicholas Cage impersonating a crack addict for the seventy twelfth time in his career. That thought-error is called false economy, […]

via How to Get Trapped in an Abusive Relationship in One Easy Step — The Ochre Muse


Oh sh!t

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I went into Target to buy sunscreen and flip flops, I came out almost 2 hours later with $183.18 of shit I’m not sure I really need.

#lostintarget

#WTF

#savemywallet

 


13 Reasons Why we need Suicide Awareness not just in September

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I was born at 1:44 am, when it’s as dark as it can get.  I have struggled for most of my life to feel happy.  To feel loved.  Perhaps that early darkness played a minuscule part and set the stage for the depression that enveloped me later in life and stole my joy.

By the time anyone is reading this, I am gone now.  I’m off to watch the last episode in this Netflix series “13 Reasons Why.”  So sit back, relax, and plug into whatever reading device you’re looking into as I share why this Netflix Original series is super fucking interesting and is bringing much needed awareness to suicide prevention.

I have had the opportunity to meet and got to know many people that survived their suicide attempt.  Twelve admissions to different psychiatric hospitals when I was between age 18-22 enabled me to meet those people.  Those men and women, including myself, didn’t have the wherewithal in their jumbled up mind, to sit down and speak into a microphone and record some kind of vendetta against the people who screwed them over, before actually pulling the plug on their life.  For me it wasn’t about a vendetta, it was about feeling so depressed and dead inside that I just couldn’t go on like that.  Things felt like they would never end.  I blamed no one, in fact blame never even popped into my mind….ever.   I think that’s the only criticism I have of the show is that the protagonist placed blame for her suicide on other people.  It may leave viewers with a notion that all people that Suicide leave the world angry.  That would be both untrue and especially devastating to families of victims. I was never angry , I could never even hurt a caterpillar.

By the time one musters the resignation it takes to jump into the noose, pull the trigger, down the pills,  or jump off the bridge; most could give a flying shit about leaving a note for anybody, let alone make 13 cassette tapes.  I know I didn’t.  The people I met didn’t leave notes either.  It honestly never occurred to me, my mind was ultra focused on leaving, not on what I may be leaving behind.

Statistically speaking, victims of suicide only leave notes  3-42% of the time.  Which means that 2/3 of suicides leave this world far more often with no words left said. Of those who do leave notes case studies reveal that the notes usually leave instructions for funeral arrangements or taking care of loved ones and mundane requests such as making sure newspaper subscriptions are cancelled.    The notes lack the sort of logicical solace the bereaved are searching for in this sort of tragedy.

“Suicides are often impulsive, and can be prevented at the last minute.  About 90 percent of people who attempt suicide and survive do not die by suicide. One survey found that 87 percent of people who attempt suicide and survive had deliberated for less than a day, 71 percent for less than an hour, and 24 percent for less than five minutes.

In a particularly vivid example of this, Ken Baldwin, who survived a jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, once told the New Yorker’s Tad Friend that as he was falling, he “instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable — except for having just jumped” -Dylan Matthew

For me suicide was an impulsive act born from the wedding  of my mood growing darker and me becoming more isolative.  I never picked out an exact day, only a method.  The timing just instinctively drew near.   More went into building up to doing it and reassuring  myself that things would never change. To me a specific day was inconsequential,  I just knew I’d do it “soon.”  I never told anyone.  Then I sort of woke up and was feeling horrible, I knew it was “the day.” It was pretty arbitrary in that sense.

I had three suicide attempts and an intervened fourth. The first was cutting  my wrist which required stiches.  The second was driving my car into a concrete wall.  There was some damage to my car, not so much to me.  I still got sectioned into the hospital when paramedics found out I drove into the wall on purpose.  The third was taking an entire bottle of prescription pills which landed me on a cardiac telemetry unit.   The last time I was holed up in my mom’s house with her loaded  .22 handgun.  I lay crying on that cold black tiles bathroom floor holding the gun.  My mom called my then psychiatrist and he talked to me on speaker phone through the door. I eventually came out. Each time was more serious and progressively worse.

The myth that women are just seeking attention but that men really do it a myth too.  Men usually pick lethal methods for their first attempt and are therefore “successful” when they try.   That said the old adage of of at first you don’t succeed try try again seems to hold true for women.  Statistically,  try more often, try less lethal method first, but eventually catch up to their male counterparts and succeed…. seems to hold true for women.  My aunt made several attempts on her life and the last ended her on life support in ICU.  It is by the grace of God she is here.

I never picked out an exact day, only a method.  Suicide for me was always impulsive. I was very depressed for a prolonged period of time, I had no access to feelings, I felt numb all the time, dead inside. The suicidal ideations would come and go and then eventually they would build and one day then I just acted on it. Tbere was no way any one could have intervened because there was no way anyone could have known I was planning to do this.

My best friend’s husband attempted suicide 6 years ago.  He took his police service revolver into his car in the wee hours of the morning and shot himself in the head.   He died instantly. He only planned a few details.  To park his car on a main highway where he knew his fellow officers would find him and not his family.  He hung a quilt over the drivers side doors so that any passing motorists would not see the carnage.  He did this at around 4 am so that his suspicious looking vehicle would be discovered at daybreak.  It was very graphic.  His wife, my friend wanted to see him and wanted the car back.  The police told her that neither were options and sent her brother to take a look.  Inside the car were pieces of brain and skull along with significant volume of blood throughout the vehicle.  Once she was told this, viewing her husband was obviously something that she bor the family wanted.

They had four kids.  Four girls that will never have a Dad.  It has affected those girls in horrible ways. Two of them send text messages regularly to Facebook and Instagram hoping that heaven also has these apps.  Old photos and home movies are all they can see of him.  Old voice messages are all they can hear of him.  A cold stone grave is all they can hold onto at birthdays, holidays, hard-to-get-through days.  Suicide is forever.  It can’t be taken back.

Recognize Suicide warning signs can help you intervene at an early point by talking to your friend or family member.  Remember that talking about suicide will not make someone do it.  Ask them how you can help, if you feel it is beyond what you can do, call 911.
Physical changes

•Major changes to sleeping patterns – too much or too little
•Loss of energy
•Loss of interest in personal hygiene or appearance
•Loss of interest in sex
•Sudden and extreme changes in eating habits – either loss of appetite or increase in appetite
•Weight gain or loss
•Increase in minor illnesses

Conversational signs

•No future – “What’s the point? Things are never going to get any better”
•Guilt – “It’s all my fault, I’m to blame”
•Escape – “I can’t take this anymore”
•Alone – “I’m on my own … no-one cares about me”
•Damaged – “I’ve been irreparably damaged… I’ll never be the same again”
•Helpless – “Nothing I do makes a bit of difference, it’s beyond my control”
•Talking about suicide or death
•Planning for suicide

Behaviours

•Alcohol or drug misuse
•Fighting and/or breaking the law
•Withdrawal from family and friends
•Quitting activities that were previously important
•Prior suicidal behaviour
Self-harming
•Putting affairs in order (giving away possessions, especially those that have special significance for the person)
•Writing a suicide note or goodbye letters to people
•Uncharacteristic risk-taking or recklessness (for example driving recklessly)
•Unexplained crying
•Emotional outbursts

Feelings

Sadness
Anger
Shame
Desperation
Disconnection
Hopelessness
Feeling Emotionally Dead        Worthlessness
Powerlessness
Loneliness
Isolation

It can be scary as hell when someone you love reveals or shows signs of suicidal thoughts. However, not taking thoughts of suicide seriously can have a devastating outcome. If you think your friend or family member will hurt herself or someone else, call 911 immediately.

There are a few ways to approach this situation:

•Remove means such as guns, knives or stockpiled pills.
•Calmly ask simple and direct questions, such as “Can I help you call your psychiatrist?” rather than, “Would you rather I call your psychiatrist, your therapist or your case manager?”
•Talk openly and honestly about suicide. •Don’t be afraid to ask questions such as “Are you having thoughts of suicide?” or “Do you have a plan for how you would kill yourself?”
•If there are multiple people, have one person speak at a time
•Ask what you can do to help
•Don’t argue, threaten or raise your voice
•Don’t debate whether suicide is right or wrong
•If your loved one asks for something, provide it, as long as the request is safe and reasonable
•If you are nervous, try not to fidget or pace
•If your loved one is having hallucinations or delusions, be gentle and sympathetic, but do not get in an argument about whether the delusions or hallucinations are real

You can make a difference for someone who is suffering.  Don’t be afraid to talk to them, it could mean the difference between life or death.  If you are the one who is suffering, please talk to someone, anyone you can about your pain, don’t make a permanent solution to what IS a temporary problem. ❤️


Pipe Dreams

 

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I always took great pleasure in my submission.   I am a giver by nature.  I love to please.   I was the type of woman who could give and give and give, to the point that I would become drained and exhausted.  No one that I was ever in relationship with gave back to me, so I became depleted because I gave until there was nothing left.  The gift of my submission was exploited in that D/s relationship 10 years ago, my giving nature has been just exploited in my life overall. Something in me just broke after all that giving and has just never been the same.   I began becoming calcified over time, resentful at all the lies, the cheating, the beatings.  Perhaps a penchant for revenge began to take shape, I don’t know.

On one occasion I had the opportunity to to try my hand at using a cane on my Dominant’s ass.  I reasoned with him that if he was going to make me take a bunch of lashings from it and he was such a tough guy, he should have no problem letting me try striking him once or twice.  He agreed and I did things very carefully showing extreme restraint.  I didn’t want him to go medieval on me following this.  I remember feeling alive, strangely titilated by the experience.  There is too much confounding though.  Was it because of the subject who was spread eagle before me in such a vulnerable position; the very person who for so long had such power over me?  Or was it something else all together.

Since leaving my Dominant, I began a LTR with a vanilla man.   We have been together for 6 years now.   Over the years I’ve often missed being in a D/s relationship as well as missing kink itself.    There is an intensity I just haven’t experienced again,  outside of the lifestyle.  I’ve tried sliding in bits and pieces of kink, rimming him, tea bagging him, sliding just the tip of my tongue all up and down his frenulum, sucking, tugging and biting on his nipples; extending foreplay so long that his arousal is so heightened that there’s pre-cum dripping off his shaft and he’s begging me to fuck him.  Things designed to elicit maximum orgasm and pleasure for him.  Tantric elements and things of this sort.   Of course I’ve hidden the fact that I’ve fantasized about wanting to taking a strap-on to his tight little virgin ass while I reach around and stroke his manhood so that he cums harder and better than he ever has his entire life.

He would never go for this.  He is too vanilla.  He’d never let me spank him in the right place so that he’d be wanting to be spanked.   He’s too sexually repressed.

I often wonder what it would be like to return to the lifestyle but this time from the other position, from being the dominant one. Could I make a good Mistress?

I am not a sadist.  I do not enjoy inflicting pain.  I don’t even like hurting a caterpillar.  However,  I can see myself using pain for teaching, learning, exploring.  If I felt like it would better my partner in some way, I may consider it, but only the minimum amount necessary to achieve a means to an end.

Within the context of a loving, monogamous D/s relationship, I could definitely see myself using pain to enhance sexual pleasure. Anyone who has ever done kink knows there is a thin line between pain and pleasure.   Deliciously so.   This I miss.

Alas, this is all a moot point, for I am with an extremely straight-laced, dare I say almost puritanical man with regards to sex.  He thinks kink is sick, dirty, and the people who do it are “fucked up” and “crazy”.  On many occasions he has said to me “I just don’t understand why a person would want to get whipped.”  Try as I have over the years to explain and bridge the gap, there is a disconnect.   Perhaps if one has never delved in, one can’t understand.

Sometimes you have to let certain things go and realize the grass is always going to appear greener in another yard.   Sometimes that’s okay.   Life will be okay even without strap-on fun.

 

 

 

 


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