I am his submissive. He is my Master, my Sir. It seems so simple that one would think that it should be effortless. Effortless. Isn’t that funny? Something that comes so naturally is something so far from effortless that it tests the will of Masters and slaves alike.

More than once I have wondered about the D/s aspect of “us” in addition to the other roles we play. We’re parents, role models, friends, siblings, and a million other things to other people. To one another we are life partners, best friends, biggest fan, worst critic, and lovers. It remains forefront in my mind that it is the D/s that brought us together.

Why is it that the thing I crave the most is the thing that scares me the most? I have given my life to this man. I have placed in him an infinite amount of trust on more than one occasion. Why then when he tries to guide me and care for me the way he knows is best for the both of us do I buck and rebel? It is what I need the most! Instead of accepting it for what it is, I question and give in to my fears. I try to maintain ultimate control.

Do I need something more structured, more rigidity, and less free flowing boundaries? I wonder. I love almost everything about us. His praise is better than any orgasm and his disappointment and scoldings are worse than any beating. My being is so wrapped up in him and his feelings for me, his perceptions of me that the least little hint of disappointment sends me into panic mode. Though he has never laid down and rules or set any rituals or routines, we have them just the same. They came from unspoken conversations and silent agreements before we even met in person. It’s one of the things I like best.

I’m learning that it isn’t the D/s that makes this difficult. Rather it’s the love. Loving is easy, being loved is hard. Keeping it in tact takes work. It takes courage, strength, and a strong will. More often than not it is about being selfless, protective, and even a little possessive. It is anything but effortless.

Last night I tried to walk away. I spent the day yesterday in pain, the kind of pain that Tylenol and Advil no longer relieve. When he came home, I snapped at him and The Guys because it hit me hard that they deserve better, they deserve more. So, I told him I was leaving. I told him it was better to walk away and save them any extra heartache now rather than later when we all may be faced with the possibility that I might not get better. His response?

He told me to go ahead and quit. He said he never pegged me for a quitter but he guessed he was wrong. Then he told me that I was too scared to let him in, so I might as well run away. As if that wasn’t enough, he then launched into his belief that counseling was the solution, that he believed we could benefit from doing it together because even as much as he had helped heal the wounds from my past, obviously being loved and required to put forth some sort of trust and effort into a relationship was revealing wounds I didn’t know I had.

For a brief moment I hated him as much as I had ever hated anyone. He was the enemy and the urge to run away was stronger than ever. I yelled through my tears, telling him that he had no fucking clue what he was talking about. I told him that I was indeed the problem and I would indeed be the solution.

Master that he is, a man as full of love as any I have ever seen, he didn’t falter. Instead he recounted how he felt when he first saw my profile on collarme. He told me that while I was so busy convincing myself of my imperfections, all he could see was that I was perfect, that I was everything he could ever dream of and then some. He poured it all out, heart and soul.

I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to leave. All I wanted was to protect him and The Guys. I wanted to run and be alone because alone didn’t hurt anyone. Now I know that he was right. For as much as the love of my Master has healed me, it has also revealed to me things that I have never dealt with. Things that I didn’t intentionally not deal with or work through, but things that I didn’t even know were issues until I fell in love, until I was truly loved.

We are both human and we both make mistakes. It is the combination of our strengths that lessens our weaknesses. It is in our love, our D/s that my healing has gone so far. It is in the perfection of the love we share, the commitment to one another on a deeper level that will get me through the rest of my healing journey.

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I feel your breath on my skin

I hear your passion

I taste your reverence

 

Your fingers caress me, front to back

Again

As your tongue finds my ass

My mind flashes

Images of the original sin

 

Linger, Master

Loiter, lover of mine

Press your mouth to mine

Poised at my entrance

I come to life

Your slut, your design

 

Greedy

Lusting

Your name is the cry that escapes my lips

Cock buried in my ass

With your hands holding my ample hips

 

You overwhelm my heart

You nourish my soul

As you empty yourself deep inside of me

I am reminded that even more than it’s lust

This

This is a down and dirty, spiritual love

{I’m not sure if I’ve posted this before, but I love remembering how I felt when I wrote it. So, I’m sharing it.}

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I saw this on Bonnie’s blog and thought I would give it a try. Originally it came from Katie Spades. My score was a 72. I can’t help but wonder what I can do to persuade The Knight to help me get the score a little higher. Give it a try and let me know how you scored!

Have you ever…

1. Posted to a spanking newsgroup/bulletin board/mailing list? Yes

1. Bought/downloaded spanking pictures? Yes

1. Bought/downloaded spanking magazines or literature? Yes

1. Been in a spanking chat room? No

1. Bought spanking-related books in a real bookstore? Yes

1. Written a spanking story? Yes

1. Looked up the word “spank” in the dictionary? Yes

1. Bought/watched a spanking video? Yes

1. Cyber-spanked someone or been cyber-spanked? No

1. Watched someone else get spanked in real life? Yes

1. Been to a fetish shop such as Kinematics or Stormy Leather? No

1. Purchased toys specifically for spanking? Yes

1. Made your own spanking toys? No

1. Spent more than $100 on a single spanking toy? Yes

1. Owned 10 or more spanking toys? No

1. Had a spanking fantasy while masturbating? Yes

1. Had a spanking fantasy about a real life spanking you’d seen/read about? Yes

1. Had a spanking fantasy while having sex? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked while touching intimately? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked during sex? Yes

1. Given/had an orgasm while spanking/being spanked? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked with no specifically sexual overtones whatsoever? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked on the bare bottom? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked for more than 10 minutes? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked for more than an hour? No

1. Been involved in a situation where if something went wrong, the only means to stop the scene was a safeword? Yes

1. Used your safeword/ had someone use their safeword? No

1. Spanked/been spanked where there was no safeword? Yes

Spanked/been spanked with:

1. A hand? Yes

1. Paddle? Yes

1. Hairbrush? Yes

1. Ruler? Yes

1. Spoon? Yes

1. Cane? No

1. Switch/birch? Yes

1. Crop? Yes

1. Belt/strap? Yes

1. Flogger/whip? Yes

1. Implement with holes? No

1. Ordinary object not intended for spanking, such
   as a remote control or shoe? Yes

Have you ever…

1. Broken a toy (over someone’s bottom) during spanking play? No

1. Switched? (been spanked if you are primarily a top, or spanked someone if you are primarily a bottom) No

1. Spanked/been spanked on the back of the thighs? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked on the front of/inside of the thighs? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked on the breasts/genitals?Yes

1. Wet your/your partner’s bottom to make it sting more? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked outside? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked in a hotel? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked in a car? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked in a bath, shower or hot tub? Yes

1. Made someone do something/been made to do something they/you did not want to do? Yes

1. Punished someone/been punished for not doing something correctly or refusing to do something in a scene? No

1. Punished someone/been punished for a real life issue? Yes

1. Used spanking “talk”? (i.e. “You’ve been very naughty,” “I’ll be good.” etc.) Yes

1. Been involved in the acting out of a roleplay fantasy? Yes

1. Been involved in the acting out of an ageplay fantasy? No

1. Asked for/been asked for a spanking? Yes

1. Made someone/been made to count the spanks? Yes

1. Made someone stand/stood in the corner? Yes

1. Made someone stand/stood in the corner for more than 5 minutes? Yes

1. Been provoked/provoked someone into spanking you by acting like a brat? Yes, but very rarely and without success

1. Deliberately disobeyed/had someone deliberately disobey, in order to get spanked? No

1. Kept a list of “infractions” to spank/be spanked for later? No

1. Spanked yourself? Yes

1. Spanked yourself at the instruction of someone else/instructed someone to spank him/herself? No

1. Required someone to/been required to call someone Sir/Ma’am/Master/Mistress/Mommy/Daddy/some-other-variation during spanking play? Yes

1. Met someone specifically for spanking play? No

1. Travelled more than 100 miles to spank/be spanked? No

1. Placed/answered a spanking personal? No

1. Gone to a play party or club? Yes

1. Participated in play with someone at a play party or club? No

1. Spanked/been spanked by someone whose name you didn’t know? No

1. Paid or been paid to spank someone? No

1. Been involved in a spanking scene with more than one person at a time? No

1. Spanked/been spanked by both men and women? (not necessarily at the same time)? No

1. Spanked/been spanked on a spanking horse or some other piece of furniture specifically designed for spanking? No, but it would be so much fun

1. Made videotapes of your spanking play? No

1. Taken pictures of/had your partner take pictures of you during or after
   spanking play? No

1. Admired your/your partner’s bottom in the mirror after a spanking? Yes

1. Spanked someone/been spanked nude? Yes

1. Bought new underwear specifically for spanking play? No

1. Worn fetish clothing (schoolgirl outfit, leather, etc?) No

1. Worn fetish clothing in public? No

1. Spanked/been spanked so that the spankee had trouble sitting afterward? No

1. Spanked/been spanked so that the spankee had trouble sitting the next day? No

1. Spanked/been spanked so there were marks/bruises showing? Yes

1. Spanked/been spanked so there were marks/bruises showing for more than a day? Yes

1. Had to explain your marks to a vanilla person? No

Been involved with any of the following in connection with spanking play?

1. Restraint (ie. holding someone down, trapping their legs, etc.)? Yes

1. Restraint with ropes, cuffs, scarves or other bondage toys? Yes

1. Blindfolds? Yes

1. Gags? Hard limit

1. Nipple clamps/clothespins? Not clamps but a variation on the clamp idea

1. Icy hot or some other heat-enhancing cream? No

1. Ginger root or some other burning/stinging substance inserted anally? No

1. A butt plug, dildo or vibrator? Yes

1. Mouthsoaping? No

1. Enemas? No

1. Temperature taking? No

1. Cried/made someone cry from a spanking? Yes

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The seasons have changed and it feels more like winter than autumn. I’m cold and the darkness that is fast approaching at six in the evening makes me feel that much colder, that much older. Having just come home from my parents house that used to be my grandmothers house, remembering the autumns spent on that front porch and the breakfasts in that kitchen I am more than a little nostalgic.

I was reminded of the childhood loves that kept me company in the bedroom that I shared with the man who swears he will marry me, that he wants to marry me. The Knight is the only man I have ever been in love with and drifting to sleep on our air mattress in the room where I used to sit in the corner with my Walkman and my composition book journal felt a lot like coming full circle. Laying beside him with tears in my eyes as he whispered that he couldn’t wait to be married to me for a million reasons, hearing the love in his voice as he told me how beautiful I looked in the night light shining through that window, feeling my heart pound when he used the words ‘husband and wife’ in reference to us, the ghost of the girl I used to be disappeared. In her place was the reality of the woman I always hoped to be.

Never did I think that I would be making love in the room where I spent so much time as a girl, but last night there we were. I don’t remember the details that would make this a steamy post about lust and desire. I remember feeling whole, beautiful, and at peace. At peace! When we had climaxed together and I found myself naked and raw in his arms it hit me that all those years ago I wondered if I’d ever find him, would anyone ever love me the way he loves me now. I slept the kind of sleep that comes from total safety and security, complete belief in the love that surrounds you.

I believe in us, in him. I believe in the endless possibilities that come from the love that we share, the love he shows me even when I’m impossible to love. I have my own issues, trusting what I feel and feeling as if I’m worthy of such love is among them but he makes it all ok. I may not see myself as he sees me and I know I am far from loving myself. Instead I delight in the little things. The way he looks at me when we’re laying in our bed with our limbs entwined and our breath intermingled. The way he touches me when it’s been far too long, like a man who is starved for the things only I can offer. The way I know, deep down inside, that I have found someone who loves me unconditionally. The realization that there are things about me that are good and likable, and even if I can’t love myself, liking those things about myself is a happy medium.

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Whoever said that there was a thin line between love and hate was right. They were dead on. As she sat and stared into the night she couldn’t help but think of every man she’d ever been involved with. She’d loved them and hated them. She’d looked to them for safety and security, but instead found herself more insecure and less safe than ever before.

Falling in love for the first time ever was the worst. She’d been used to getting her way, playing her games. Once bitten twice shy? Hell no. She was twice bitten and ready to bite right back. And she did- more than once. So why was he any different? She had no idea, but she hated it. The fear, the insecurity, the vulnerability- all of it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Vulnerable- that was his word, the one he used when he held her and tried to soothe her. Tried- God knew he tried. It didn’t work for very long, but she’d learned to calm down and let it go. She was still the same when it was all said and done. She didn’t need him. She’d survived rape and a dysfunctional childhood that made lesser women crumble into a heap at the feet of a pimp, a drug dealer, or an abusive asshole. Not her- not then and not now. She could make it on her own just fine. She didn’t need him.

At the sound of the door opening, she jumped and came back to reality. She didn’t need him- with his dominant ways and loving words. When he took her into his arms she felt her resolve weaken. He’d let her rant and rave, throw a temper tantrum, and when she was finished, this is what he did. He held her. He told her that she could be scared and vulnerable but that he wouldn’t let her push him away. In a futile attempt to prove him wrong, she pushed against him, squirmed, tried to put distance between them. Futile was the right word. He held on as if both their lives depended on it.

The tears started to fall and it was then that she thought she hated him the most. How dare he make her feel pathetic and weak? Who the hell did he think he was anyway? As another tear slid down her cheek, another tear that he wiped away, she knew. He was her Master- in every sense of the word. From finances to fear and everything in between, he had the last word, the final say.

She felt his lips on hers and willed herself not to respond. That was a joke. Since the night they’d met she always responded to him. Whether he was “using” her, making her feel like she was little more than his fuck toy, or making love to her so slowly, she responded. When he deepened the kiss she slipped her arms around him. She was present in the moment, but at the same time she was watching herself from above.

She saw before her a woman, at once submissive and wanton, and a man who was dominant and sexy- both needing what the other had to offer. She felt more than she saw and in an instant she knew she needed him inside of her.

He urged her over onto all fours with her ass in the air. She felt him grab onto her hips and pull her into him. In an instant she was filled with his magnificent cock. He took his time, sliding in and out, inch by inch. Her wetness dripped down the inside of her thighs and she could smell the scent that he swore he loved so much. She was his. Every part belonged to him and he said as much as he nudged her knees further apart. She cried out as the head of his cock connected with her swollen g-spot and somewhere deep inside she felt her climax building.

“Goddamn, woman” he muttered under his breath. That was all it took to send her over the edge. She felt him thrust into her one last time and like a lock sliding into place she felt the muscles of her cunt contract around him. She milked his cock with a rhythm as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Natural, base, almost animalistic in nature and she cried out “Yes, Master!”

And he was - her Master. All the hate she thought she had in her towards the things he made her feel disappeared and was replaced by feelings of love, safety, and security. All the things she had longed for she had finally found in the man who shared her life. As he curled her up beside him and whispered aloud his love for her she couldn’t help but wonder about that supposed thin line between love and hate.

**Originally featured on The Erotic Woman website

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I watch you undress in the darkness, completely at ease and more than a little full of yourself. It turns me on to watch you, to know that you want me as much as I want you. I sigh and move towards you as you slide into bed.

As I trail my fingers from your chest to your cock I can feel the goosebumps my touch has caused. Your cock lurches and I can’t help but smile. Barely a touch and you’re more than excited. It’s good for my ego, this little game we play. I lick my lips in anticipation as I eye the head of your now glistening cock.

I cup your balls in my hand and squeeze ever so slightly. You like it when I hold your manhood in my hands, when I’m as full of myself as you are. My nipples harden as your hands find my ass. Skin on skin in the middle of the night. It’s the stuff of romance novels and porn all in one amazing scene.

Moving to lay between your legs, I can feel the moisture spreading at the junction of my thighs. As a rivet runs down the inside of my leg I wonder if you can smell the scent of my sex. I wonder if you can smell the effect you’re having on me. My tongue nudges your sac, gently at first, then with force. When you’re slick with my saliva I rub them with the palm of my hand, delighting in the moans I’ve elicited from your lips.

As I rub your sac, careful to not go near your cock, I let my tongue slide further south to that sensitive spot between your ass and your balls. I know what it does to you when I explore south of the border. It makes your cock throb and your pulse race. What kind of whore would I be to neglect an area that brings you so much pleasure? I smile to myself as my tongue reaches out to touch the outer region of your delectable asshole.

I know you like it when I worship your body with my mouth. I know it drives you wild when I give no thought to my own pleasure. The thing is, I get off on this. On worshiping your cock and paying my respects to the parts of you that bring me the most pleasure. I know you need to finish, I know you’re on the verge of exploding, so I move to do what I do best.

As the head of your cock slips past my lips I can feel my own orgasm beginning. My clit is throbbing, my cunt is slippery but this is about you. My lover, my Master. Knowing that it’s all you need to fill my mouth with your sweetness I take you deep into my throat and hold you there. A mere second passes and I am rewarded for my whorish behavior, rewarded with the thick sweetness of your seed.

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I have been informed that some of you are unable to leave comments or follow the links that I have in my sidebar. I apologize for any inconvenience that this has caused, though it certainly explains why no one is commenting. Here is what I have found-

Using Internet Explorer 7 is the issue. When I opened my site in IE7, I also encountered the problem. I have yet to try it in IE6 or other browsers, but I will do so as quickly as possible. Apparently this is a CSS bug with IE7 for which there are no fixes (at least that I could find).

I was unaware of this problem because I use Firefox as my browser and I highly recommend it to anyone who is having trouble. Whatever the other browser is doing, Firefox doesn’t have this problem. I also noticed that IE distorts the layout, etc. for not only my site but other sites as well.

An alternative way of contacting me or commenting on my blog if you do not wish to install Firefox or its equivalent is to email me. I try to check my email on a regular basis and respond as promptly as possible.

Again, I apologize for any inconvenience that this causes.

Addendum:
It appears that the only browser that this is happening with is IE7. I have tried and successfully been able to comment with several other browsers, including
Internet Explorer 6. So, if Internet Explorer is your browser of choice, IE6 is your best bet.

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{I have blatantly taken this from a fellow blogger at Ari Goes Down because I liked it, because I want to see what you guys will do with it once you see it here. I’m looking forward to this actually.}
*List ten things you want to say to people you know but you never will, for whatever reason. Don’t say who they are. Use each person only once.*

1. Go away. You had your chance with me, business arrangement or otherwise, you had your chance. Stop whining, stop thinking that low blows will get you what you want. Be a man, take responsibility for your children and your actions, then move on.

2. What happened? Where did it all go wrong? Time, distance, life in general…all those things mounted against us I guess. I miss the friendship. More than the romantic things, I miss the friendship we shared so long ago. It was special to me, it was real and I’ll always be grateful for your presence in my life, however brief.

3. Even if I lived to be a hundred and I told you every single day that I am proud of the woman you raised me to be, it wouldn’t be enough. I could give you diamonds and other lavish gifts in an attempt to show you how much I treasure you but there aren’t enough material things to convey the love I have for you. Instead I try to be there for you, I try to be the woman you raised me to be, a woman you can be proud to call your daughter.

4. By the same token, there aren’t enough days left in my life to tell you how you hurt me. Every day is a struggle, even if I don’t think of it in that sungular way. There are things I inherited from you and they’re not bad things but I hate them just the same. I hate them but I accept them. Just as I accept the fact that you were not strong enough to get over what happened to you. You are not a father and I will never again call you mine. Even Sperm Donor is giving you too much credit. I am who I am not because of the things you did to me. I am who I am IN SPITE of the things you did to me. Living and loving without reservation, without hesitation are the best revenge and I’m doing both.

5. When will you grow up? When will you face the fact that your life is passing you by and you have no clue? Your children are beautiful. They’re bright and full of love for you, but you turn it away. You are your fathers daughter, you were made in his image and it saddens me. I’m more sad that I don’t know you at all. We’re the only two and we’re worlds apart, nothing alike. I need my sister and the friendship we used to share. More than anything, I’m here for you. I love you unconditionally.

6. Do you remember how we used to be? It was the two of us, together all the time. Lost pets, lost grandparents, our parents divorces, boyfriends, borrowed homecoming dresses, and even swapping boyfriends…we saw it all. I’m sorry I had to move. I’m sorry it hurt you and changed you. I’m sorry you got lost in the shuffle. When we reconnected after years apart, I thought it would all be ok but it wasn’t. I didn’t know the woman you had become, the home wrecker that lived deep inside that made you do that things you did. I wish that I would have known how to get through to you, how to be friends with you despite the way you were living. I couldn’t do it. I was raised to stand up for what I believe in, to have strength and the courage to do the right thing. She was my friend who was in love with her husband, the father of her unborn child and you were the woman who was ripping their marriage apart. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the kind of friend you wanted me to be.

7. Thank you for holding my hand as I made my healing journey. Thank you for helping me to realize that it is a process that is never really complete, but something that isn’t always an emergency. Thank you for giving me the tools to get through each crisis one step at a time, even if I don’t always put it into practice.

8. I don’t remember your last name anymore. I remember your blonde hair, your blue eyes, and your denim jacket. I remember the anger in your voice when I told you what he did to me, the way you held me like the brother I never had. I wish I could see you again, to thank you for saving my life, to show you that I’m ok. If I knew your last name, I’d try to find you though I’m sure you don’t remember me anymore. You were my first hero and I’ll never forget you, ever.

9. I wish I had known you better. You were the strongest man I’d ever seen, the one person I’ve lost that still haunts me. You’re the one man I measure all the rest against. I’ll never forget your voice, the holidays, or the way you danced with her in the kitchen on that cold winter morning while I watched from around the corner. Thank you for showing me what true love is all about, for showing me that it comes in many forms. I love you.

10. You. The one I’ve waited forever for. What took you so long to find me? Did you know I was wishing for you on every shooting star and every candle on every birthday cake? Your love has healed the deepest of my wounds, your friendship has made my smile brighter, and my spirit more resilient. Thank you for giving me my childhood and my womanhood all at once, for showing me what love is really about. I’ll pray tonight, as I do every night, for all our yesterdays, all our todays, and for our tomorrows. I’ll thank God for bringing you into my life. I love you…to infinity and beyond.

{It felt good…so very good. Not as eloquent as some, not as serious others but it did my heart good to put it down. I’m interested to see what other people write, but I’m not tagging anyone in particular.}

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We all have something of our pasts that haunt us. Maybe we even have something of someone elses past that haunts us. The majority of us get over it. We move on and soon we have a new past to look back on or maybe even run from. I’m no exception.

In my past are several men who raped and sexually abused me. Men who made me feel as if my only worth was sexual. If I couldn’t spread my legs or open my mouth, I wasn’t worth anything. I never believed it. I saw them as the enemy, as something to get through until I could get away.

Once I got away, I went to the opposite extreme. Sex was gross and nothing of interest to me. I dated people who didn’t push for it or people with whom it wasn’t possible. It was a matter of protecting myself. I didn’t want to be seen as someone elses sexual vehicle. After my years of therapy I realized that sex was normal, that it was ok so long as you kept it in the proper context, so long as it felt ok within myself.

After my divorce it rarely did. I tried it. I thought I could be modern and hip and have lovers. It messed with my head. So, I stopped. I dated like crazy but rarely did sex enter the picture. I hated feeling like a hole to stick it in. No connection, no chemistry, nothing.

Then came The Knight. Even before we met, I wanted him. I felt things I had never felt in my life. I wanted him like I had never wanted anyone. There were no limits, no boundaries. I’d finally found the man who made me feel, the one who made me believe that sex was a really good thing.

I went crazy. I got a little out of hand. If I was awake, I wanted him. Three times a day for months. When he’d beg off with the excuse that he was tired or his cock was raw, I’d take it as rejection. It didn’t matter that we’d fucked every day for the last three months, it was rejection, something wrong with me. As we settled in to our life together, sex became less frequent between kids, work, and all the other things life kept throwing at us. I felt progressively worse about myself. My self esteem hit bottom.

Over the weekend it was just the two of us. It was an amazing weekend. We went to a haunted house and spent time just being together, reconnection. Only once did we make love. I took it personally, of course. He held me in his arms and poured his heart out to me and I finally realized what I’d done.

Since meeting him, I’d allowed my self worth to be equated with sex. If we made love often, I felt good about myself, I felt loved and desired. When we didn’t, I bottomed out. I hated who I was and what I was doing with my life. I lost sight of us, as a couple, and I lost sight of what sex and making love were supposed to be.

I’ve taken a long hard look at things. I’m trying new things, seeing them differently. I don’t want him to think that I’m using him or that I don’t even see him when we make love. I want it to be the beautiful, special connection that it’s supposed to be, the connection that it is in my heart and soul. I’m striving to learn about acceptance, friendship, and true intimacy through the remnants of my past.

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I am not a person who hates. I don’t think it’s worth the time or energy. I have better things to do with both of those. Especially now. Tonight, however, I am filled with hate.

Hate for making the mistake at 18 of marrying The Ex to get out of my parents house. Hate for staying with him for years on end because it was the right thing to do, the thing that God would want me to do. Hate because he’s inept, irresponsible, and a master manipulator when it comes to my babies.

I am working as quickly as I possibly can on the whole custody thing. I’m not getting anywhere as quickly as I’d like, but I’m moving in the right direction. I hate being the one who is playing by the rules. I feel like I’m on the losing end, like nothing I do is making a difference. More than anything, I feel desperately out of control, as if I am being propelled along by some unseen force.

All of this because I moved on. Because I fell in love with The Knight and not him. Why punish the girls this way? It makes no sense to me. Even as much as I despise him, I’d never do to him what he’s doing to me and to the girls, the people he swears to love. I’ve tried to understand it and I can’t. Maybe there’s nothing about it that makes sense regardless. Maybe I’m beating my head against the proverbial brick wall. Who knows.

Right now my heart aches. I heard the hurt and confusion in my oldest daughters voice when she called me this evening. The pain she’s feeling must be overwhelming and I am powerless to stop it. I can’t be responsible for his actions and I can’t explain them to a ten year old. Her heart is breaking and there is nothing that I can do.

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