Better alone

Paying very close attention to my behaviors has proven to be a worthwhile endevor. Since January and the beginning of my relationship with MC, I’ve notice some things within myself. A breaking of self confidence, independence, faith, fun.

I dedicate so much time to my partners. I believe truly in giving what you’d hope to receive. Attention, affection, compliments, desire, sharing of life, dreams, fantasies, hopes, aspirations. I believe in unity. It has never happened that someone has ever responded in full.

I am and always have been polar opposites for some people. Simultaneously too much and never enough. I want to much attention, sex, affection, compliments. I require too much maintenance. Or I simply am not enough in regards to intelligence, social standing, career prospects, beauty, physical aesthetic.

Whatever the case may be, or however you view me, one word always rings true. When I am a partner in a relationship, I’m overwhelming. That word slices through me. It opens me up and allows everything to spill out. All of my hurts and scars. An eviseration of horror. Which in turn only leads to more overwhelming sensations for my partner. Because really, no one wants to see the beasts living in your darkest most closets.

All of these thoughts accompanied me in my trip to Lafayette yesterday. As I approached the familiar roads of the city I grew up in, the truth came to me. I am so much better when I’m alone. These relationships take so much work. I have someone who expects me home in the evenings. Someone who expects me to do the laundry and feed the dogs. Likes when I shave my legs.

In my moments of self reflection and wonder, I begin to debate my effectiveness as a partner. I begin to second guess myself. It’s almost as if I am just around the corner from discovering the actual truth of my life. Believing for so many years, one thing. Just to discover a pure vision of my role in the world. A role where I am none of the things I believe myself to be.

Not a healer.
Not a mother.
Not a friend.
Not a partner.

Not anything I would say I desired to be at some point in my existence. Maybe that the truth of it all is, I’m a an overwhelming vacuous hole of vapid insecurity. A pulsing excuse of a woman wrapped up in too much flesh and desire.

An overwhelming void, better off alone.

Better alone

A division of self

What if every soul on this earth currently had one lesson to learn? Each person’s lesson something different; inner peace, kindness, generosity, becoming more nurturing. What if the pursuit of these things helped us all in the “end”. Our soul lights bringing back the knowledge to share in a vast community of pure beings. So that each of us would learn from the building of our character. Each of us could return to bring more peace. What if this was the way our life was supposed to be. What if we are all part of each other, because over the vast expanse of time and space, my soul has become a part of yours and yours has become a part of mine. What if in the end, we are all just protecting the breath of ourselves in one another?

I’d like to think of a reality where this were true. Where each of us could spot the goodness in one another. Where we could spot the goodness in ourselves.

This weekend was absolutely sickening for me. Ive finally found the appropriate word for how I feel. As if some rare bacteria is eating away at the soul of me. I had such hope for this relationship that I’m in. A foolish child looking into the bright future and seeing only happiness. How backwards my perception was. Of course it would not be. That is my lesson, I think, that not every soul is destined for happiness. Maybe finding peace in turmoil is my lesson. Whatever it is, I’m tired of the tests. I’m tired of feeling like each of my loved ones has a limb in their grasps as someone else pulls my insides out. I am tired of violence. I am tired of the violence within myself. I am tired of feeling like I need to remember that violence because I do not feel safe. I am sick of the fear that comes from being forced to the edge of my reasoning.

Im tired of feeling rootless.

Now, I’m having to examine everything. No longer a person, but a machine for analysis. Every move is calculated, every defense is on the ready. There is only energy for one thing and the focus is not peace. Ive been pushed back into surviving. I feel my two tenuously connected worlds violently ripping apart. Leaving me held in the middle. The cords of my love for each half of my worlds holding me open and vulnerable to the outside force of everything else. My career, my future, my health. Yet, I am unwilling to let go of either side. Making me the barrier between them. As they charge at one another with spears raised, it is in truth, me who takes the impact. It is me who is left bleeding under the strain of anger and resentment and fear. In the end it will be me who fails as my two halves only fault one another.

And what if after all of this, the answer is actually very simple. That if we learn to love ourselves, we can always love one another. Because, I can see me in you. Because the part of you that loves the way I do, is the part of me I know best.

A division of self

A slice of YTYS

My internal gauges are a crapshoot. Hormones, Adrenals, Thyroid, Kidneys, Chemical levels. It feels like a vortex of doom cycling inside of me. Since January the boyfriend and I have decided to move in together, most of it has been exciting. Some minor renovations (flooring and painting our bedroom. Along with fixing the fence so my little dogs can stop escaping.) Some of it has been frustrating, like choosing a paint color we both like. Finally I receded and he chose a color that suited him best. (Its turkish coffee by Sherwin Williams if you’re curious.) Frustrating still that I’m STILL divided in house and home. Some of my things remaining at the apartment, while most of my things are here at the house. With the official move out date looming closer I find myself terrified and aggravated that it isn’t done yet. Forcing me to spend more money where I would prefer not to.

Of course, all of this is happening during a very busy social season in my life. We have two events to attend every weekend. Every. Single. Weekend. When we don’t have that there are the kids, or my sister and nephew an hour and a half away. Im planning a wellness day for next month and trying to keep this business afloat. Im sure some of you are leaning back, your lovely face pulled into an indulgent smile. Yes, things are pretty good. Im too busy to notice, too tired to care when they aren’t. I guess this is what life is, for some people. On occasion I ache for the silence that was my home. For the tranquility of napping on my couch or in the meditation room. During those times I try to slip quietly into my office and take a few deep breaths. To calm my mind and nervous system. To steady myself against the constant stream of activity.

One day, when all I have left are the snapshots in my mind, I’ll remember these days as my favorite. I’ll remember being upset about feeling second and laugh. I’ll remember mourning the loss of friends, lovers, parents, pets. I suppose thats all we can hope for. Right? To remember a life you led and have it bring you joy. If that’s the case, I must be doing something right.

A slice of YTYS


Of all the forums I have to express these words, the appropriate one fails me currently. As I pack up my small two bedroom apartment moments have been bittersweet. Some have just been sad. A few, well a few have been regrets. I have made strides to say I would never live a life I would regret. Yet I find myself here, thinking of the ghosts of the last 18 months.

As my hands touch the very fiber of things i’ve spent 30 years trying to run from.  My mind reminds me that fear and devestation I’ve experienced in the first quarter of my life are dead. He is long gone, though his teachings and scars bind me at times. The gentle healing that my mom  attempted to provide after guilt drove her to action. I don’t have to carry that weeping suitcase around anymore either.

I try to highlight the things that she’s missing. How much she would have loved MC, how I am the things she always loved about me. Gentle, kind, loving, forgiving, and I’m sure for someone my smile still lights up the room. I’m sure they feel like my hand resting on their forearm is a moment of peace. That they look at me and see a million stars waiting to burst. That is the regret. Knowing I won’t ever see her recognize the way I’ve grown.

I think of my lovers here. Who held my head above water in the tsunami of my life. The one who sat with me in my miniscule bathroom and was present with me while I cried in my shower. Just there, a silent pillar of support for me. He helped me believe I was beautiful all the time. Not just when I was made up and ready to socialize. He made me feel worthy, appreciated, loved. *If you read this, thank you. For all of the ways you believed in me. You made me feel hopeful. For myself and my future.*

There are moments when all of the loss feels like total devestation. As if surely one day a board will Crack and the house of my life will implode on itself.

Then I remember that MC is someone who has always been my partner. He has always always supported when my own legs failed. But not so much that I’ve forgotten I have legs. I recognize his flaws. I feel as if I can love him without rose colored glasses shading my view. The feeling is calm and sure. A steadiness I’ve never felt. It’s a new adventure.

While I move forward with the lessons of my past, some of those things with varying degrees of presence, it’s hopeful.

I have hope. Thank you for walking with me. For walking for me when I couldnt.


My friends

Today makes a year my mom passed away. How wonderful that I get this message just as I’m on the verge of a meltdown.

So I haven’t said anything all day because I didn’t know if I should or not. But I want you to know how much of your mom is in you. Even more since she passed a year ago. You have this bright light around you that I can not explain. It’s the same one I saw when I looked at Her. I know times have been tough with money and life in General, but just know how much I love and care about you. You ARE my family. you have been my sister for the past 15 years and I am So happy for that. I’m sorry that I can’t do anything about your struggles, but please know that I am always here and so is that beautiful woman that watches from where ever she is. I love you.

My friends

Your biggest/naughtiest/wildest fantasy

In the world of online dating (gaaarrrroan) this is always the question when people find out I’m kinky. Especially when they find out im poly.

“That must make for wild family nights.”
“Are you covered in bruises all the time?”
“Do you call them Master in public?”

“What is the wildest thing you’ve done?”

I can almost predict what questions I’ll get from certain people. It makes me want to throttle them. My response is usually “Everyone’s perspective is different. Three ways could be your maximum kink. But then so could flogging someone for an hour.”
But the truth is, my wildest fantasy: having a real, loving, evolving relationship. In this style of life. Because all of the play and whatnot, that I could do whenever I wanted.

I have high hopes for 2015. I’ll also be posting a new list! I’m so looking forward to it. I hope your holidays have been merry.


Your biggest/naughtiest/wildest fantasy