I stayed up too late last night and Sir had to step in. I got about twenty swats with the light paddle, which… is generally not a very severe punishment. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting like fuck. Adding the fact that I was over tired (and haven’t slept well for two weeks), and my ADHD meds had worn off completely, I didn’t respond well to being punished, or being told to get in bed (reasonably because it was late). I toed VERY close to the line in being defiant to Sir (not quite over the line, but as close as I come without jumping it with both feet…)…

I feel rusty. I haven’t written here for so long, it’s like I’ve forgotten my voice. Though my voice was so broken for so long, maybe I don’t need to recapture it. I think I started this blog during the M and R era. It saw me through the death of T. Through the renewal of my trauma and my PTSD. Then four years of Trump, which I don’t think I even had the capacity to recognize how deeply traumatic that was until it ended only a few weeks ago. It’s been a long string of really brutal life events. Maybe being able to write out all of my pain…