Recluse

Oh boy. Oh boy… ohhh boy.

This will be a long post. I apologize for this.

I got back to San Francisco about two weeks ago from a FANTASTIC trip home. The only thing missing was Kane.

It was an odd feeling for me, missing someone as much as I did when I was only away for a week and a half. It just..felt like he should be there for everything. Like he belong there, and would have enjoyed it. I wanted to share my old haunts with him; my childhood hideaways and my loves. I sent videos and photos of my childhood home to him, showing more to him than I have to anyone in a long time, sharing pieces of myself that I have held tight and guarded for way too long.

Regardless, I had to returned. I returned to a week without him and two weeks of hell at work.

I very rarely discuss my work on this blog because it involves childcare..and childcare and BDSM rarely mix well. I had been hired as one thing, and gradually throughout the months I had watched my position slowly crumble to a mere shadow of itself and began dreading going to work. My duties were never the same day to day. They began to change radically, drifting into a realm that were not at all involved in my job description.

Poor Kane. The man had the patience of a saint with me this week. He got double whammied with a girlfriend/submissive that had her period AND severe work problems. The anxiety was so bad that I found myself unable to get into the submissive mindset at all.

I have not gone to a play party in a month and a half. A month was because of other commitments. Two weeks have been by my choice. Last night I could have gone with Kane if I had truly wanted to. He would have happily taken me to the Citadel and put me on one of the crosses that I love. He would have used the purple suede flogger on me first, to warm up, and perhaps teased me with the rabbit fur flogger so much that I fantasize about curling up in bed and snuggling it like a stuffed animal… Then the thud and sting of the red leather flogger would have started, with an added weight that the other two pieces lack… In an idea world he would have hit me in a steady rhythm that I count in my mind like a dance count, getting lost in the strikes until I’m pushed so high I’m flying… Mmmm…

A shiver of pleasure just went up my spine. I miss that. I crave that. But for the past couple weeks it’s almost like my submissive side has been hibernating…and it is a large part of who I am as a person. A large part that has been missing. I was shocked when I came back from my trip and Kane bent me over for a spanking for the first time..because it HURT. I cried. My pain tolerance was gone, pathetic to a point that made my heart sink. I had built it up quite a bit before I left, and I wasn’t gone long.. around ten days. Kane and I had been playing in private and public on a regular basis, almost nightly, and I was shocked when the thing that had given me so much pleasure caused me actual pain. Not the buzzed pain.. the bad pain. THE FUCK???

What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I get there? I thought part of it was Kane and I playing at my place. My little in law apartment is always in a state of chaos. I’m there maybe one week out of the month on average, mostly just spending the weekend. The rest of the time I’m at Kane’s with him…and so I’ve never actually fully unpacked. It’s not a home, it’s a resting place in chaos. When I’m with him there it feels like home. I thought that playing at my place, a place that I normally don’t associate with BDSM, coupled with he and I not spending the night together was making it harder for me to slip back into the submissive mindset. I was definitely his horny little girlfriend, and the sex was fantastic… but I just couldn’t get there.

This surprising week of short play was the prelude to the week from hell of work.. combine the two and it was a recipe for disaster. The FLOGGER hurt me when Kane put it to my skin. I found my mind wandering and had to constantly bring myself back. I didn’t want to strip. Didn’t want to see myself naked. I spent way too much time crying, which is something I absolutely hate doing.

Kane is an incredible boyfriend, I will say that frankly. His ability to comfort me, to make me feel safe and have me believe that everything will actually work out. I have my spot as a girlfriend, curled up on the couch with him. I lean into his side and put my head on the nook in his shoulder and he drapes his arm around me. There is my safety spot, where nothing can touch me. And there is where I’ve been hiding.

I’ve dealt with depression all of my life. Major depressive disorder runs in my family. My dad has it, my grandmother has it, etc. It’s not constant with me, it spikes when I get anxious or when the road gets rocky. Combine that with hormones of the month and…yeah. I was bad. Even in the environment of Kane’s apartment with him I just couldn’t get there. I didn’t want to go on fetlife, didn’t want to see my kinky friends, and just wanted Kane. I wanted my rock, my safety, my assurance that even though my job was miserable and the progress of our relationship meant things would get worse before they got better that everything really would be okay.

He causes old feelings to surface that I had forgotten existed.. It’s been a long time since I talked about marriage and kids with anyone. I don’t do that. Don’t trust people enough to lift up my walls and reveal the girly squishy bits of myself. Kane continually breaks down my walls. We’re in too deep at this point, and are set on a future with one another. With kids… though marriage seems to be arguable.

Last night was the culmination of KABOOM that has become my life. My work had become unbearable. My hours got changed and cut yet again, and my duties had become out right illegal. I quit, knowing that if nothing else I own a car (that was in the shop with a check engine light on. It turned out to all be fine but it was definitely an added stresser) and was halfway to starting up Lyft, which I could live off of easily if I worked the hours that Kane was at work. I love driving, and I love talking to people so the job would be easy for me. And I was sick of crying.

This turned Kane into a stress ball…which I hate seeing. He thinks of every possible outcome, and the more he thinks the more he shuts down and just doesn’t communicate. He doesn’t want to stress me out with his worries which just stresses me out and I worry more…it’s a cycle of stress that ends in both of us breaking, and that’s exactly what happened. I broke first, sobbing at something silly. He shut down because he thought I blamed him for the entire situation..when I just hated the situation in general.

It ended in he and I going for dinner and a drive and talking about some hard realities. Realities like he and his wife splitting up, but not having a time line for it. Like we want kids, but I want marriage and he will only get married if he has to. Neither of us expected to be this intense this soon, to be talking about living with each other and getting a “transition” apartment between now and his lease ending in February. But we’re here. And we’re dealing with it. And we both agree that the relationship is worth it.. which is what in the end matters.

I can hear Cal’s words echoing in my mind from time to time, advice he gave me when I first told him about Kane. Yes, fall. Yes, the relationship is worth it, but he and I will both hurt one another. And we are, we do, but we also keep each other going. We inspire one another when we’re not in mire and muck, and we come up with crazy artistic ideas that lead to other ideas that lead to amazing studio nights.

He is helping me pick up the pieces of my life, but he is not doing it while I sit on my ass. Yes, I have more financial problems than he does. Yes, he has more relationship problems than I do (that whole “I have a wife I need to hopefully separate amicably from” thing)..but we are definitely knee deep in a “we” thing. We are building a life together, piece by piece, and part of that is he and I getting our separate lives together in the ways that we must. I need a job, asap, hopefully with health insurance (which is something I lack right now..another stresser). And I need a firmer hand from Kane. I need discipline when I’m too sassy or too out of line, or don’t do what he asks me to do.

He was shocked when I mentioned this to him last night. “You don’t do what I say most of the the time. I just didn’t think you wanted that.”

“Of course I do!” I responded. “I’m a twenty four seven sub! Part of that is wanting, no, needing tasks from my dominant.” And part of that is pushing my limits. Seeing how bratty I can be before I get consequences. Kane figured that out. He set rules.

Now, after this long long LONG blog post that has followed an even longer week, progress is being made in my vanilla life and in my BDSM life. Next week I WILL go to the play party at the Citadel, and will dive back into munches again. I will reach out to friends I’ve been shunning in between applying to fifty million jobs. And most importantly I will work with my dominant. I will scene with him. I will build my pain tolerance back up and fall back into the steady rhythm and embrace of the flogger Kane wields. I will fly again, sometime soon.

Finally, I’m feeling better.

Yours coming out of hibernation

~Rena

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