Tag Archives: adjustments

(A Long Overdue) Day 30!

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30) Is your need to submit being met? If not, or if your situation changed, do you think that you could continue in your life and still be happy/content if you were never able to express your submission in the way that feels best to you again? What makes submission special to you?

This is being asked to me after a night that is still making me smile. James and I went on a date last night. A simple thing. A bite to eat and time together. But not something I ever take for granted..  Something I am very, very grateful for.

There was a time when I struggled with being ashamed of what I was… for a variety of reasons. There was a time when Kane was ashamed to be attracted to me, to want me..and that made me extremely ashamed of myself. What was wrong with me that he didn’t want to be attracted to me? What I so repulsive?

After that finally ended, after I removed myself from a relationship too emotionally masochistic for me, I came to terms with focusing on myself for a while. I wasn’t interested in dating. Didn’t want a relationship. Didn’t want to have to put in the work when I was already working on myself and had finally gotten used to being completely on my own.

And then I run into James, quite on accident. I’ve seen him a couple times before then, but not on his own. Always in the Citadel, always with our friend Squeeks in his lap. They kissed a lot, and she wore his collar from time to time. I assumed that they were together.

They weren’t, I found out. He was very single. I was working on it. And it was finally okay for me to feel attracted to him. It was April. I hadn’t been under his hand since November, at Surrender.. and I wanted to be. I ended up on my knees in front of him, exploring pain and pleasure in a way I hadn’t before.

Are my needs being met as a submissive?

I am a greedy sub. I always want time with Sir. I’m happy when I’m with him… The world shuts up for a little while, and even if we’re stressing about life, the universe, and everything we have the time to talk to each other.. We have a confidant that isn’t going to squeal about every last little thing about our conversations. There are head pets, snuggles, kisses…spankings and scratches and bites.. Sometimes screams. And I love it all. I love the play, and I love just going out to dinner and talking…

My submission is a part of me.. I’ve said that time and time again in these entries. It is as much a part of me as my brown eyes or my curvy figure. I can’t change it about myself. If it wasn’t able to come out in serve to a person, as I thought was going to be the case for a long while, it’s going to come out in service to the community. I show up to quite a few events as-is, because the kink community has become my family out here. Just because a relationship begins or ends doesn’t mean my submission does the same.. A Top, a Sir, a Dom, or a Master do not make me a submissive. I make myself submissive. I own that identity, and it took me a damn long time to do it.

Thus far on my journey, I have no regrets. Although I gotta say, I’m kind of glad this is the last of the 30 days.. It will be nice to get back to the regularly scheduled programming (and allll the backlogged entries that I have saved). Thank you for putting up with my tardiness on the entries, as well as for reading my words at all.

More to come, as always, and as always I am yours

-Rene

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Day 23

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23) Is there anything about submission (yours or what you see in others) that you question, dislike or repels you? Was there a time you questioned or were resistant to your own submissive feelings?

I am a big fan of different strokes for different folks. However, there are limits to this. I believe in the safe, sane, consensual tenant of BDSM.. and while the sane part is up for debate, the safe and consensual are not.

The only time I have questioned another submissive is when they were going into truly unsafe situations… I had a friend at Bondage a Go Go when I started going early on who called herself a pain slut. In all reality she was a heavy bottom, but not a pain slut, and she pushed her body too hard to prove just how much she could take (because she wanted to be the best of all the subs… Subbies you know how this is…). To do this, she would eat AFTER bag and not have any food before, because she believed that it allowed her to take more pain. One night she did this and on top of this took several medications that left her not in her right mind, combined this with alcohol, and then went to go play… The partner she was playing with cut the scene short because they saw she wasn’t right, but it was one of the few times I have gone over and lectured another submissive, as well as her primary for letting her put herself in that situation.

I’ve also met many a young ‘sub’ that was “looking for her Christian Grey.” They are easy to spot in a dungeon setting. Usually younger, dressed to the nines in lingerie and brand new heels, walking around with a bit of a dear in the headlights look. These lost little ones me and a few other experienced submissives will sit down and talk to, and try to explain the difference between Christian Grey and real Doms. It’s why so many of us read the books, so we could know thy enemy and keep young, vulnerable subbies from getting hurt.

There is a difference between a submissive putting herself in danger because she is under some sort of influence (be it alcohol or some fictional character) and a submissive letting her Dominant push her. I have seen a couple scenes that have had me question whether or not an ambulance should be called. You sit, you watch, you wonder, but in those moments you know that an experienced submissive has not had alcohol or drugs before playing, because they want to be fully aware of their body and what is is going through. An experienced Dominant will be able to read their submissive’s body to pace the play out so that even if they’re pushing, it will be something they know that their submissive can take. And if something happens, if something gets pushed to far, everyone knows how to safeword, and will if they need to. You sometimes just have to trust that. And when you can’t, well, that’s what dungeon monitors are for.

You can’t always judge a book by its cover. James and I have made the dungeon monitors look up a few times, because he makes me howl. He will hit me hard enough that the sound of the crack will echo throughout the entire dungeon, and I in turn will scream like a banshee. He pushes me, and I let him push me. Everyone in that dungeon knows we’re experienced. The DMs have seen James for years in the scene, and while I haven’t been around for as long they know me as well. They trust that if I need to, I will red out. And I have in the past, with other partners.

As for my own submission… of course I’ve struggled with it. When my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be I don’t think she pictured one of those things as someone who craved spankings, floggings and the phrase ‘good girl’. Strong, independent women are not supposed to want to kneel at their boyfriend’s feet.. I struggled most with something that has become one of my biggest kinks. The concept of being owned.

The collar. One of my biggest turn-ons is the thought that someone wants me enough, values me enough, that they want me to be one of their possessions. They want to own me. They will share, but I will be theirs to do with as they well. Coming to terms with wanting that, with craving that.. it took me some time. There is still a stigma to D/s, and to BDSM in general. It takes time to realize that the stigma is just something  you learn how to live with.. That it’s going to be part of your everyday life whether you want it to be or not.

It’s a matter of how you live with it that matters. I will never be ashamed of who and what I am. It has taken me a long time to get there, and I’ll be damned if I’m going back… But I’ve learned what to and not to share with people about who I am. Sometimes that makes me sad, that I can only be half of myself with people.

But then I rejoin my people… and I frolic in the dungeon. James makes me scream, and all is right with the world.

Yours, as always

-Rene

Day 22

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Day 22

Can you feel submissive without a dominant partner? If so, how does your submission express itself? If not, how do you handle your submission or submissive feelings?

My friend Cal is a Domly Dom. I’ve described him as being able to be spotted as Dominant from 100 feet away. This attribute may be heightened when his girl is kneeling at his feet or curled up in his lap, but standing on his own he reeds as Dominant. Those who aren’t in the scene may not know that he was a Dominant, but he would read as a domineering person in general, a take charge boss man that looks like he should be calling the shots.

The same can be said on the other end of the spectrum. My submissive tendencies don’t go away when I’m not with my Sir… and somethings this can be a really annoying thing…because I can’t control it.

When I am upset and around people I trust I become incredibly submissive. Most of my friends know that I like to sit on the floor when I cry, that I will apologize for every little thing (including apologizing so much) and that the easiest way to make my mood right is to order me to action. Tell me to do something so that I’m not focusing on my own melancholia.

My submissive side is strong enough and, ironically, dominant enough in me that it comes out, partner or not, and I am lucky enough to have people in my life that know how to handle me when this does happen. They are not necessarily Doms but toppy people that know what to do when I go subby.

I’m not necessarily one of those people that goes “Dom shopping” when I’m single, and I have been single in the scene before. I’ve mentioned before that I am a picky bitch when it comes to relationships. When I feel a need to formally submit but don’t have a Dominant in my life, I am lucky in that I have friends. Friendships in the scene…can be interesting. Some of my friends I go to dinner and drinks with… some of them beat my ass in a dungeon when I ask. It ends up not being in a sexual way, rather in a cathartic way. Their need to Dominate ends up as strong as my need to submit, and the play makes both of us feel better and more right in our own skin.

I’m one of those who is blessed and cursed with the fact that my submission never really goes away. I would like to think that has the ability to make me a damn good submissive to my Sir, and that he is proud to call me his, because it isn’t an act. It’s not a mask that I put on for an evening performance. It’s in me, same as my need to create. I love it, and sometimes I hate it.

Yours, subby as ever

-Rene

Day 19

19) How socially connected is your submission? Do you look for others to talk to about your submission for support or networking? Do you go to events or connect through another sort of social grouping either in person or online?

I am very lucky in living where I do.

I didn’t always have or want support, even though I live in kinky Mecca. The Bay Area celebrates BDSM and kink in a way no other area does, especially San Francisco itself. I type this with a grin on my face because Folsom is coming… The biggest day on the kinky calendar. And I can’t wait.

But I digress. This was about my networking with other submissives.

The first kinkster in the Bay Area that I was ever friends with is a man named ZebraJim. He is my favorite old perv, 66 and still kicking despite the universe trying to kill him time and time again. The man is a self-proclaimed dungeon troll in the Bay Area, helping out Alchemy, the Citadel, and Black Thorn. Meeting him was the beginning of meeting everybody.

I resisted the community for a loooong time. I was focused on my Dom at the time and saw no need for a community. This was one of the drawbacks of me throwing myself into a 24/7 relationship… I got lost in it.

When that relationship ended (which was a very long process…) I hermited a little while. I licked my wounds. I stopped trying to force myself to go to parties and waited until I actually wanted to be social and see people again. This.. Took a bit of time. I can be naturally antisocial, so being around others when I’m upset can be extra exhausting to me.

Being part of the community again really started when I began to go to BaGG, something that I had always avoided in the past because it was much more socializing than play, and play was always easier for me. It was a language I understood and could easily communicate with… But the social aspect of BaGG allowed me to, very slowly, make some very good friends.

James is much better in social situations than I am. He’s an actor, and can always perform when he needs to. It’s one of the things that both drew me to him and terrified me about him when I first met him… When we were getting closer he told me something that has stuck with me… And has proven to be true. He said that while we were together, for however long it lasted and whatever we managed to become, he would help me be more at ease with myself and unlock this potential that he saw in me. It started with him asking me to BaGG until I came, and then encouraging me to socialize at BaGG.

Now? I am incredibly lucky. Over the last couple of months I’ve come to find myself surrounded by a group of incredible kinky friends, Dominant and submissive alike. Some I met at BaGG… Some I met through friends of those friends. One amazing friend I met through my former mentor, of all people, and has helped to rekindle a friendship between him and me… Although I’m still not sure how he feels about me being best friends with his girlfriend :p Life is funny sometimes. Even my roommates are kinky now.

Community is a huge asset.  You can talk to someone in the kink world about things you can’t tell just any old vanilla person. There’s a frankness between kinky friends that is hard to find.

As I said at the beginning of this entry, I am blessed because of where I live. Finding a physical community isn’t hard here. I am well aware that others are not as lucky, and are seeking communities of their own. For that, the online world can be a huge resource. Fetlife.com can be amazing both for connecting to other kinkster and for seeing what events are happening around you. You will also find groups and forums of people posting discussion topics you are welcome to jump in on and take part in. For more anonymous kinky resources there is Tumblr, which has a huge amount of kinksters on it. There are also countless blogs like mine written by other subs. I can only speak for myself when I say that I never mind connecting with others. In fact, I enjoy it. Anyone reading this can feel free to e mail me directly with any questions and with more networking sources ^.^

Yours getting posts up when she can… I still don’t have computer access after my move on Saturday. Working on it! More entries to come more frequently!

-Rene

Day 18

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Day 18
Very often the stereotype of submission is that the submissive person loses the ability to have an opinion. While that clearly isn’t true except in the absolute rarest of occasions, how does communication factor into your submission and how do you communicate your desires and needs?

James and I have had a rule from the beginning. Before rules. Before titles. There was this.

Honesty, always. Even if I think he won’t like it. Even if it will make him upset. Be honest about what I’m feeling and what’s going on.

I am very bad at telling someone that I care about that I am upset… Unless I am royally pissed off and in that case run. Run far away. But minor things that make me sad? That’s hard for me to express.

More often than not I bury my own emotions, putting the happiness of my partner before my own. His opinions matter more. His priorities. What do I matter at all? I am nothing. Etc. This is a habit that both James and I are working on….

Last Wednesday was a horrible day, for a multitude of reasons. I came to Wicked Grounds emotionally fried and wanting to curl up in James’s lap… And eventually get the ever-loving hell spanked out of me. I kept trying to get myself to voice the request… But all I managed to get out was wanting to give him a blow job (which I kinda always wanna do…) and the cuddles got put off due to the company of a friend once we returned to the cafe.

Taking stock of my deteriorating emotional state, I did what I had to in a method that made me more comfortable. I texted James as we sat in the cafe, asking if we could talk after BaGG.

He gave me the time to talk, he calmed my body (which at that point was shaking), and he actually got me to leave smiling..  But he wouldn’t have known the extent of how much the day’s events had impacted me if I hadn’t vocalized them to him. Something that is a big issue to me sometimes isn’t to him, and vice versa. Whether D or s, communication is key. That breaks down and so does the relationship.

Besides. I don’t care how submissive I am. I’m also an Italian Jersey girl… Getting me to be unopininated just isn’t going to happen.

Yours, sassy yet subby

-Rene

Ps I realize I am behind in these entries. I spent the last few days packing and moving, and while the entries are written they have not been posted… I will be catching up on this today. I apologize in advance for the spam.

One Last Blast

This will be a very short entry.

I’ve mentioned from time to time my search for a new home, and the scramble to find the place.

Life has been a little bit kind to me. I got lucky.. And unlucky at the same time.

I’ve found a new place, more expensive than my last but with so much more potential. And I love it. My roommates are kinky. There is room for Sir to move in if we reach that point. It is the perfect new home for Poe and I.

As if by magic I got a third job at the same time that all of this was finalized… Finally there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was able to slightly dig myself out of the financial hole I’ve sunk into.

… Life never works out perfectly. It’s just how it goes. This new job that made it possible for me to make first months rent suddenly told me after two weeks of pay that I was going to be off for a week and then they will “let me know” if I would be coming back.

I have a good feeling about this job. I’ve gotten nothing but positive reviews so far and I’ve never been let go from a job of this nature… But that doesn’t mean the fear and panic have not set in.. I needed that week of work, desperately, to make rent… They let me know so late that my backup job wouldn’t be able to pay me until the day AFTER rent is due…

Because the universe is funny like that. When everything seems to start falling into place but the littlest thing off throws EVERYTHING off it’s easy to get scared.

I am still working as hard as I can. As I go through my possessions, packing everything up, I am selling what I can..

But I am scared.

When I first started my search for a place I made a gofundme page.. I was not prepped at all to have to move and found out I had 60 days left in my place two weeks before my birthday.. With being so close… SO close to a safe new home and a couple hundred short I am trying one last blast on here..

I feel pathetic asking for financial help when I have tried extremely hard to build myself back up again, and I’ve come so damn close I can taste it… Nothing is stable right now though. And while my ego is suffering at the thought of this… I’m asking for help.

My birthday was about 3 weeks ago now… So if you awesome people out in cyber space take a bit of pity on a twenty something sub and her cat trying to make it by, a secured safe new home would be.. Incredible.

gofundme.com/mss44j4p

That would be me… You all now have a vague idea of what both Poe and I look like..

Thank you for taking the time to read this… I honesty do appreciate it

We now return to our regularly scheduled kinky fuckery

As always, I am yours

-Rene, aka Rena

Poe

The closer it gets to leaving for Boston the more I think about the people that really matter in my life… and the relationships I have with them.

California seems notorious for fair-weather friends. I’m sure there are close relationships somewhere.. I have met a couple Cali people that I know would be there if shit went down. One I know watches, just as I watch, even if we don’t speak so often. The other is slowly becoming an important member of my life.

I haven’t gone to the dungeon to play since I got back from Thanksgiving… and that hasn’t eaten at me. It hasn’t bothered me. I haven’t felt the need to be fawned on or flirted with, and have casual encounters. I enjoy the people I know through the Citadel, but that craving hasn’t been there. I’ve been working, actually working my ass off..and suddenly I have expendable income again. I will be able to truly enjoy myself over the holidays without fear of running out.

The lack of contact, for whatever reason or motivation,  has rubbed several people the wrong way.. I can understand, but in the end there are time when I have to put obligation above a fun night out. I work hard so I can enjoy myself and play later. I know too many people who just get by in the community I swim in; people much older than myself. I grew up just getting by. I have a man that loves me enough to have made sure the bottom didn’t drop out when I was at my worst, but I have watched the strain on his face when I was barely getting by. I don’t want to do that to him, to us, or to myself. I may never be wealthy, but I’m determined to have a roof over my head and food in my fridge, even in San Francisco.

Recently another responsibility has fallen into my lap; one I wasn’t truly expecting. His name is Poe. He is a loving, purring black ball who greets me at the door when I walk in and snuggles with me at night. Kane is insanely allergic.. the one thing that scared me about getting Poe. I hadn’t intended on going to the shelter..but it happened. I visited him three times before adopting him. Before I bought the stuff for him, before I called the shelter asking if he could be mine, I talked to Kane. It’s true, I’m lonely in my apartment without him. I’ve said that several times. But I wouldn’t put a cat above Kane’s health and happiness. I pestered him.. asking for clear confirmation that he was okay with Poe. That if I got the cat things would still be okay with us. We would be okay.

I love that man so much.. He told me straight out that he wanted his Rena happy, and he knew that a kitty would make his Rene very, very happy.. and that little bundle of fur has.

My cat is a cuddle whore. He curls up with me and purrs throughout the night and will plop into my lap the moment that I get home. In the shelter he walked over to me when I was playing with his little roommate, plopped into my lap when I wasn’t looking at him, looked up at me, meowed, and started purring. I was hooked.. He’s settled into my apartment with no problems. The last step with him is meeting Kane, which will hopefully happen today. I pray my boys get along.. I have an odd feeling they will.

I’m so grateful to Poe..that little ball of love has eased the last of my ache. He’s allowed me to lighten up. To not be so tense. The more I lighten and loosen, the more I see Kane do the same. I know he’s been busy and stressed, but more and more of our interactions I see the man that I proudly submit to, not the shadow of himself that I’ve seen. The more I take care of myself the more he does the same…I still don’t know what will happen after the holidays. Neither does he. But I know the road trip will do him good, just as the trip to Boston will do me good… We both know what we want to happen. We just have to wait and see. But I’m hopeful. I’m optimistic.. and I’m actually happy.

And then there’s Smith. Yes, the man continues to have an influence on me and be a pretty active member of my life. We are slowly getting to know one another…but usually end up poking one another daily and trading a text or two back and forth. He was the first to scoff at me not having relationships with the people I play with and just going to play. I still think casual play can be good from time to time…but I’m starting to think Smith has the right idea. I am getting so much more out of the different quality relationships I have, why go give myself to people just to do it? That’s putting a bandaid just a problem for me. Not helping me become the best me that I can be.

I am very blessed. I have three fantastic men in my life, all gifted to me by a very kind universe when I needed them. And all of them share very well when the need is there.

Well.

Almost all of them.

Poe is incredibly possessive of his mama.

Yours with a content, purring cat in her lap =^.^=

-Rena

Perfectly Imperfect?

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There are times when I feel like a creature of flaws.

I used to do this glazing technique that was a crackle glaze over already finished tile I got from a scrap yard. When the coat of glaze was heavy enough it would remain on the tile and do this weird bubbling effect. When the layer was too light and I miscalculated the glaze would chip off, leaving these unfinished holes in my piece.

Sometimes that’s what I see when I look at myself. I am afraid that if I keep people close to me for too long the good parts will chip off in their mind, leaving all these damaged holes they didn’t know about. No one wants to deal with someone who’s just a bunch of damage and flaws. Physically, I can rip myself apart easily. I’m an overweight midget who looks twelve. Emotionally I can be immature and self deprecating (kinda like right now). Mentally I spiral at times and get depressive spikes during times like this where my life just isn’t on track.

The day started perfectly. I woke up wrapped in Kane’s arms, which turned into snuggling, caressing, and talking. There are times when I like waking up to a cock between my legs..and there are times when I relish the comfort of company. There was a point where he carried on a conversation we had started yesterday and I thought finished.

“I know you hate your tummy” he said at one point, and I do. He was running a hand down my lower back and over my ass. “But when you lay like this you are perfect, with the perfect little heart shaped ass, shapely legs, and a tight little waist.” I don’t know what he sees at times…but he made me smile.

After he left for work I got up and tried to cook an experimental breakfast. Once, twice, three times I tried something that I had made before..three times it failed. I finally went to the go-to bowl of cereal, leaving the pan on the stove in frustration.

I get my shit together to FINALLY go to the DMV and get a California license. I got there, pulled out the birth certificate that my father sent me…and saw it was issued in 1999.

Now I’m young, but I’m not that young.

It was my baby sister’s, which he sent me on accident. I called and informed him of the mistake, and he cursed a bit, but figured out that we could fix the problem by Friday. Still, it was a trip wasted and I was frustrated.

I went home and started a new project to sell on Etsy with materials I already had. I finished one, exercised, then came upstairs to finish the other. For some reason the parts of the other weren’t lining up. I undid it, tried again. It’s fucked up again. I undid it, tried it a third time..and threw the piece down on the table in frustration, got up, and took out the trash for Kane. One of my tasks is to do any dirty dishes that I make, and I’m normally on dinner duty when I cook. It was so late in the day and I was so frustrated I thought I would just wash them later when I needed the pan for cooking.

I didn’t see that the trash bag had leaked into the bottom of the trash can, and didn’t think that Kane would want to cook. He has a thing with rotten food, he just can’t do it. The site of it killed his appetite entirely. And then I heard the sound of him doing my dishes. Chip chip chip.

I went and hid in the studio room and started typing this blog up. Of course, he found me, and told me to come out. He asked me why I was hiding..and I told him I fucked up. “Did I say you fucked up?” he asked me. No. No he hadn’t, but I knew a lot of what went wrong was my fault. “Let me be the judge of that. When you fuck up I will tell you.

Easier said than done.

Now he’s in the bedroom..he didn’t eat dinner. I’m on the couch. Normally we curl up. We eat dinner together. Snuggle. Watch TV. Tonight.. I guess it’s just off. Part of me wants to go in the bedroom. Part of me wants to hide all the chips and stay out here. It’s easier to hide, to keep people at a distance, because the more you let them in the more it hurts when they leave.

I have let my Dominant and my boyfriend in more than I have let any man. I trust him completely, and love him more than I thought capable..so why am I still afraid of fucking up so badly that he throws me back? We talk about a future, with kids, a dog, and cats if he can stand the litter box. He says he accepts me how I am..which would be a first for any man in my life..

So why do I still feel like I’m rotten inside? There’s this gaping “I”M NOT GOOD ENOUGH” hole in me..and I don’t know how to word it without sounding like I’m going “pity me, pity me.” How do you talk to someone about that? “So, I know that you love me and all, but I’ve been screwing up in my mind so much lately that I feel like the shit on your shoe and I’m not sure what to do about it.” I know the “but I don’t see you that way and you didn’t fuck up” answer won’t fix it. He says I didn’t fuck up tonight..but I still want to curl up in a ball and hide.

I almost wish I had fucked up in his mind..then maybe he would punish me and this feeling wold go away. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just caught in a spiral due to the whole lack of job thing..the bad mood comes and goes. He didn’t kick me out. He didn’t tell me to go home.

I just mentally did it to myself.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Someday, maybe, I’ll see more than just my flaws.

Yours with chips

~Rena

Growing Pains

Motherf*cker. OWW

Sadly, this post has very little to do with me being a submissive and everything to do with me being in my 20’s. These are not the fun sort of growing pains.

I knew they were coming. I think it was a combination of things that set it off today. One was the warm weather. It feels like home this time of year (well, normally. Jersey’s had really wacky weather this year. They got slammed during the winter). Another factor was lack of decompression space. I work an 8-5 job, a job that I adore, but a job that involves being around people all day. After work me getting the chance to have some time and space to myself and breathe is.. kind of important. I went from work to a sardine-packed hot bus, to an apartment crammed with roommates and ALL of my roommate’s painting supplies and giant canvases (she’s an amazing painter..but I no longer have a floor. Or hallway). Near my breaking point and recognizing that, I ran outside. We are blessed to have a back deck, and it was such a beautiful night I thought I would sit and read.

And then the neighbors came outside and started barbequing.

They were quiet, unobtrusive, and whatever they were making smelled fantastic. It wasn’t that. It was the combination that formed the image in my mind of home during the summer. Normally this time of year my dad has just opened the pool. The water is ice cold, but my sister and I still go in and freeze our asses off. My mother comments on us being insane while my dad stands in front of the grill shirtless, with his swim trunks and ugly-ass Crocks on grilling whatever it is we will eat for dinner. It’s usually involving something fresh from our garden..

That did it. I started bawling. Not hysterically…just enough that my body shook. I gave myself a minute or two of just crying..and then took stock of myself, and emotionally dissected myself. Why was I crying? Was it really that bad, or was I worked up? WHY was I worked up? I texted Sir a bit, filled him in on why I was worked up, and told him I was fine, because I knew I would be. I just had to figure out why I got so damn worked up.

I grabbed my journal, the one Sir has me write in daily, and filled up some of the last pages inside of it. I come from an incredibly close family, so missing them is natural, but I also chose to move 3000 miles away. I chose to stay out here, because feeling like my whole self and discovering a side of myself I had often shoved away was more important than running home for familiar comfort. I want my life to progress, and there is very little for me where I am from as far as opportunities go, and friendships.

San Francisco is a clean slate for me, in certain ways, even though I’ve been here for a year. I’m diving into a new community, and for the first time trying to make friends that I don’t just go to school with or live with. You know, actual big girl friends. I have a real job. That means not being able to go home for a month and do all those “traditional” things I’ve done year after year, because I can’t miss work, but it means I can make new traditions. Okay, so I can’t run to the Jersey shore every weekend this summer, but there are beaches here, and they’re quite beautiful. I can’t go swimming in the pool ever night. But I will have at least a week home where I can swim all I want and get that fix. I miss my parents. Like I didn’t see that coming. That’s what webcams and cell phones are for, and it makes when I see them something special and cherished instead of something expected.

The hardest thing for me being here, I think, the thing that really pushed me over the edge was the lack of anywhere to just… decompress. I have no space that is mine. I don’t have a door to shut. Even the bed I sleep on (futon…) technically isn’t mine. I miss having a safe space to hide. I like the local kink coffee shop a lot. I can go hide there relatively frequently and curl up with a book. I get left in peace and get affordable food on top of it. I went there after I calmed down today and it was…packed. To the gills. No, no no no no no. No. TOO. MANY. PEOPLE.

I decided on my way back to my shoebox of an apartment that if I couldn’t have a stationary safe place to hide in I would do at least one thing a week just for me, and would start Googling my creature comforts that I had left behind in Boston, where I got my undergraduate degree and lived for four years. I used to love to swing dance, for example. A group from school ran West Coast Swing socials in a local restaurant once a week and I loved it. I was a damn good follower by the time I graduated with my undergad. Turns out, there are quite a few swing groups here…not surprised. That’s more people to meet and socialize with..and you know, dance and drink with (tequila before a whip makes the move fuuun…hehe). I used to belly dance as well… and found a studio near my apartment that has affordable classes.

Big girl shit sucks sometimes… It hurts, but everyone goes through it. It’s how you cope with it that matters, and how you grow from the pain caused by it that matters. I don’t want to go back to Jersey. I want an actual life here. I don’t want to have to run to my parents for support. I want to build a support network here, and also be able to stand on my own two feet and support myself. It may be hard at times, but I’m making it, both in and out of the BDSM world. Yes, I know I can turn to my Dom if I need him. I can tell him anything, but he can’t make this stuff better. Only I can. He did the 20something shit already. It’s my turn to trudge through it, and improve myself through it. Even if I shed a few tears along the way.

On a side note, I kind of wish personal growth led to actual growth… I feel like I would finally be over 5 feet tall if that was the case! Wishful thinking.

I also made one last important promise to myself, after a shit tone of Googling of activities. My next apartment will have a room for just me, and a door that I can shut. I don’t care if it’s in Oakland, as long as it has space in it that is MINE.

Yours always learning,

-Rena