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 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


I often wonder if diving inside as often as I do is healthy or not. Arguably, I can indeed provide more complete healing for my clients when I am in a balanced place emotionally.


What a huge word, I’ve never really felt balanced. Especially when it comes to my sexuality. My sex drive in particular. I could, if time permitted have sex 3-4 times a day. Here for sake of ease I will define sex as: vaginal penetration ending in mine and my partners orgasm. In the past I’ve had partners who were up for the challenge, some who were very spirited and our frequent sessions lasted a short amount of time. Others who were open to once a day for longer periods. And those who, unable to provide me with multiple sessions would, spend copious amounts of time spoiling me with affections.

Before the start of my monogamous relationship with MC and the trails of last year, I ended 2013 with multiple partners. It was a perfect blend of hard hitting attention, tranquil sensuality, and exciting interludes. My “bank” was being filled on every single level. *bank here does not mean vagina lol, though that was happening too* I’m posting today with a bit of .. well I don’t know the appropriate word here. Wonder maybe. Because I am wondering about this.

My sexual relationship with MC is something I’ve never experienced before. We’ve waited so long to get here, I had all of these perceptions about what it would be. Now we have all of these road blocks. *Surgery, my screwed up hormones, a god awful haircut that’s further impacting my self perception, hyper awareness of my body, house renovations, combining our lives, not quite connecting in some areas that I thought would be fluid, totally different views on sex in general.* 

Sex isn’t awfully important to him. It’s paramount to me. It validates me. When I’m not getting intimacy, the physical release, the connection, it feels like my energetic person is drying out. Leaving a delicate piece of something in the blazing sun. It domino’s out into the rest of my life. My intimacy with friends, family, clients becomes strained. Because I feel guilty. I feel broken. I feel neglected. I feel unattractive. I feel unworthy. I feel like I have nothing to give.

The tasks of my life become robotic and lifeless. The wild woman in me suffering under the weight of morose feelings. I feel as if my true self is being smothered out. I feel lost.

In these moments I’m not sure what to do. My desires to study more in tantric yoga with the intention of sharing makes me feel foolish. My desire for connection feels foolish. I start to think I’m the one with the problem. I want to much. It makes me feel separate from my D/s, like I’m not in a relationship at all. I fear scenes because of the fragile state of my sexuality. As if I won’t be heard there.

A spinning vortex of doubt.

I wish I could believe that it wasn’t important. I wish I could feel that.



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

Times. They are a’changin

Some relationships I hope to have for a lifetime, those end up being just for a short season. I’m noticing a trend though. When I’m in a relationship, when I’m happy. A handful of people (family/friends) well they seem to be not happy with me. But, if I’m single and struggling, well gather round the covered wagons y’all, we got us a damsel to save.

*head to wall*

Big changes are happening with my business. It’s awfully bittersweet. I’m trying not to feel like I’ve failed.

Changes are happening in my body. Those suck. Major suck. Hoover vaccum suck. Sink hole suck. The pull from the Titanic sinking suck … you get it. Why with all the hormones?!?!?!


So I’m feeling second rate as a friend, business owner, girlfriend, lover, puppy momma, sister, woman.

I’m also having an issue with a feeling I’ve never dealt with before. Jealousy. Woooooo she’s a bitch, instead of dealing with it like I know I should. I panic and run. I don’t know what else to do really.

So I’m working these things out. Always with the working.


Times. They are a’changin

Staying Vital in an energy sucking world

I love my career. I love my clients. I love working for myself. But, at moments like these. When I’m hoping my rent check won’t be deposited until the 17, like last month. Im worn out. I frustrated. I don’t ever want to touch someone else’s body for their pleasure again. This is exhausting. I am SO TIRED. Im not paid.

I also know this is part of being a business owner. I feel like I’ve made a thousand mistakes.


Staying Vital in an energy sucking world