• Being Sir

    While I acknowledge that a triad relationship is innately very difficult (even more than normal relationships, which are hella, stupid hard), I sometimes think Sir has it the hardest.  I’m sure the grass is always… harder…? on the other side, but…

  • Blogging

    I’m still struggling.  Pain has become a part of the fabric of my everyday life – a low background ache that ebbs and flares over the course of all of my waking time. I have clearly failed at my writing every day goal. I don’t even know if I care.

  • Ease

    Today is better.  Sir stepped things up today and it helped. The dishes are done and put away.  The laundry is done and put away.  The kitchen is clean.  The house is swept.  The fridge has food in it for the week.  I finished all of my school work that I needed done for tomorrow.  I’m writing my blog post and it’s not even 8. I still don’t feel totally connected to my submission.  And, even better, I think Sub Brother is struggling with his right now, too.  He didn’t say it, but I heard him sigh when Sir told him to do something today, and… he NEVER does that!…

  • Secrets

    I slept better last night.  A little.  Weird dreams, but I managed to sleep until 10, so… little better. Sir and sub brother have been home (they went away on their own trip) for a couple days now.  But something has been bothering Sir.  He hasn’t said that, I just know. The thing is, he doesn’t talk about it.  He won’t talk about it.  So my best guess is that it is work related because… that’s really the only thing he doesn’t talk about.  Ever. And I…  feel strange about my feelings about that.

  • Schroedinger’s Rain

    I wrote once about a conversation I had with Ryan about having a mental illness.  He and I both have bipolar and PTSD and anxiety.  I was talking to him about reality, about when you have a mental illness, it is like standing in the rain.  You know it is raining.  You can see the rain.  You can feel the rain.  You can smell the rain.  You are soaking wet with rain and rain is dripping into your eyes.  It is raining.  And then someone comes up and tells you that it’s not raining.  Now, you can see that this person is also getting rained on.  It is raining.  The…

  • Recursive First Drafts

    I know S doesn’t like the “Shitty First Drafts” idea, so this is for you, S.  🙂  I recently read an article by an author who is absolutely not on board with the whole “Shitty First Drafts” idea that is so common among authors.  It was first attributed to Hemingway who said, “The first draft of anything is shit.”  Then it was expanded by Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird where she said that the first draft is like letting a child play, it is unconstrained, just ideas flowing onto the page. Now, this other author says that this is all fine and good and that most authors agree with this particular…

  • Being Normal

      My life has been a long and strange pursuit of “seeming normal.”  I think I’ve gotten good at it at this point.  But it took a long time to learn to hide it this well. I had a psychotic break when I was 16, but I had (undiagnosed) early onset bipolar…symptoms showing shortly after birth, definitive symptoms by 2-years old…  They documented them, but the “early onset” hadn’t yet become psychological knowledge, nor had “bipolar II.”  And so I was undiagnosed, though my childhood was filled with periodic rounds of testing, experiments, trying to deal with these varied symptoms than left my parents feeling frustrated, impotent, and…at times, like…

  • Output

    I’m having a less than easy night.  It’s not terrible – certainly not by the bar set by multiple nights this summer – but not… great. I think it’s depression, or at least the leading edge of a depression front. Sir thinks that possibly my feeling is akin to burnout (and potentially that’s enough to tip my bipolar back towards depression) because I’ve been… outputting intensely for several days and likely not getting enough inputting.

  • Awakening

    Sir and I played today.  It was an impromptu thing and ended up spreading across three rooms and a hallway before we ended up in bed (we don’t have sex, I mean literally ended up in bed – cuddling and aftercare).  It was a kind of a wild, totally unplanned series of events, and Sir pushed some boundaries that I wasn’t totally sure about, but… it turned out weren’t terrible or scary like I assumed they would be, and ended up being kind of cool and fun… plus I totally feel more like a “real sub” now after my foray into the BDSM porn world.  Not much more, but a…

  • Bruised

    I survived the night, as did our relationship.  I probably should be old enough to know that it will, and not indulge myself in emotion and drama.  But somehow, sometimes, things just… sometimes perspective fails and it’s just… universally terrible. I’m tired.  Still.  I feel beaten.  Like I was in an emotional car wreck, and everything is bruised and sore inside of me. I had a good day with family.  I came home and we had an okay evening…with my… with this family…  My chosen family.  I think we are all feeling bruised, though.  All of us are kind of quiet and… introspective, I guess.  It isn’t like we’re tiptoeing…