Tag Archives: missing

Adrift

adrift

It always happens this time of year.

Fusion is approaching. This will be my third year going, and my second anniversary with Chris. I find myself… more unsettled than ever.

Technically I have four partners… I joke that I have four partners and a complication.

The first is my Sir, Chris. I’m proud of us for making it two years. There have been some… severe bumps and nightmare metamours along the way, but we’ve still managed to be a thing. I enjoy our D/s dynamic, and I find great comfort in the ease that has always existed between us when we spend time together…but at the same time I have felt more and more ‘friend zoned’ lately with him.. That spark, that desire that once had him frantically running to a 7/11 to buy condoms so that we could do it in my childhood bedroom just… hasn’t been there lately. I sleep in my dog bed, which I love, but it leaves me… wanting when I know that another partner gets to sleep beside him at night, and frequently. I’m fighting the ache of displacement with him, and honestly hope that Fusion will ease some of those aches and reinforce our dynamic. Fusion has always been good for us.. I am hopeful it will be that way again.

Then there is Grey… We are fantastic when we are together. It’s just.. The getting together part that is hard. I think the last time I saw him was around March.. I can’t even remember at this point. It’s on both of us. My schedule, his crazy life with his awesome life. Poly can be complicated, especially when you throw in the demands of work and home. I miss him, more than I’m probably willing to admit out loud. I miss his touch, him growling in my ear.. his hand wrapped around my throat while his other sneaks between my legs and..

Gah. Rabbit hole. Sorry. Summation, I miss Grey. He doesn’t even know Ryan is my Daddy; it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other…

Ryan has the patience of a saint with me at times… Easily the most emotionally accessible of my partners, he’s also human. For some reason days when I get overloaded tend to allign with the same days he is, so the few moments when I would let myself go, “I need my Daddy..” just don’t happen. I don’t let them. I can see him balancing me and my meta best he can, as well as trying to make room to date others… and he tries. He does. There are times when I just feel… forgotten. Like my meta’s shadow. Part of it is because I am the second parter. Secondary or not, I’m entering a dynamic that’s already been established, and that can be hard. She had dibs on certain days of the week long before I arrived, meaning less time for me off the bat. I’m… scared of time right now, with Ryan. I disappear for two weeks on the 18th, and then by the time I get back he’s off on a meditation retreat. I’m scared our dynamic will fizzle while I’m gone, especially when I’m off to something like Fusion. I can feel my emotional walls going up; can feel myself bracing for the inevitable letdown that my brain is convinced is going to happen. I don’t want to shove my Daddy away… If anything I want the opposite.

And then there is Ace, a partner I haven’t talked about on here. He and I have the loosest D/s dynamic.. We’ve also been on and off for almost a decade. I credit him with poking my kinky side before anyone else. When I was sixteen he and I started talking, and though there were gaps in-between he and I have never fully lost touch. Ace is currently where I was last year; dealing with the recent death of a primary relationship, and slowly gaining ground back to peace and emotional health. I’m grateful to have such a sweet, loving creature in my life…but he’s 3,000 miles away most of the time, works opposite hours of me, so that I am sleeping when he is awake and vice versa, and has so much on his own plate that tackling mine as well would be some sort of cruel joke to play on him. I won’t do that to him. It’s easier to try to help him than to try and decode my brain squirrles.

There’s my complication… the same one that’s been there for a year. James. We finally had a fundraiser for him, a week ago. For a single night I saw a James I had not seen in a year. I saw MY James. Sweet, and open, and loving, and willing to go to the deeper, darker areas that we don’t touch to keep the peace. I got my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, we were making progress… I’m not naieve enough to hope for a relationship right now, but I felt this rush of hope that maybe we were to the point where we could negotiate a scene. I wanted to kiss him, hug him. And he let me. And then he snapped back like a rubber band so hard I got whip lash. It’s been a while since he’s gotten me to cry.. Both last Wednesday and Friday he managed it, lashing out at the only safe person to do so to… My James, who does not do emotions, had to deal with a lot all at once. He’s compensating for it. I know that. But still… Godde does it hurt.

Five wonderful people. Five very different dynamics with their own separate challenges… and no anchor. That’s where I struggle. There’s no main, safe person to go to when my emotions become too much. No one to cling to to bring me back when I begin to drift away. I could reach out to Ryan, or even James..but Ryan has been so overwhelmed lately… and he has my meta. James… he overwhelmes himself, and I’m lucky to get an answer from him most days. Ace tries. He tries so hard..but my dark days are… bad. Dark. And with him trying to get over his own I don’t want to infect him with mine.

So here I sit, feeling more along than I have in a while despite all these amazing, loving people in my life. I still reach up to my bare neck and sigh, missing what used to be there; knowing that I’m not at a place where I could have that again right now. I miss the anchor of being someone’s, and that fear exists that no one will ever want me to be theirs again. That I will find all the other pieces of my puzzle.. except for that last one that makes me whole.

I try not to dwell, and to be grateful for what I have…but there are nights like tonight when I am truly lonely. My beloved roomate is curled up with her primary, more content than she has been in days because he’s here. I’m on the couch, restless at 2:30 in the morning and unable to motivate myself to sleep alone yet another night. There are these broken, jagged pieces of myself that cut away at the parts of myself that I thought I had built up… The parts that want to be a kink educator, that shine at things like Bondage a Go-Go and Citadel events. I am the little thing that does tours, and leads discussions, and is always there to get that last clean up shift to make sure that everyone gets out of the Citadel on time. I’m good at it.. I think..maybe.

Fusion, as beautiful as it is, tests me. It’s complete immersion into this world of kink for a solid week straight… and it’s a lot to take. I find myself looking at it similarly this year as I did my first. I feel..disconnected from it, unsure, overwhelmed at the idea of being gone so long and at what I will see and experience there. I don’t know if I’m open to new partners, or pick up play, or exploration with others as I have been in the past. I am freyed and covered in battle scars. You have to cut mighty deep into me to cause either pain or pleasure..and it’s hard for a stranger to get there in a week. I wish..  I wish I had some direction. Some marching orders to follow. Go to these classes. Wear these outfits because it will please me. Get pictures of yourself doing this. I miss that.

I’m going into camp with no plan or goal in mind… I hadn’t even planned on going this year. I’m going because Chris made it happen. He wanted me there, and there I shall be… but my walls are so far up with him as well. I don’t know what I’m doing, or how to make this feeling of being lost go away. I feel as if I am adrift in the middle of an ocean, miles from everyone. Unreachable. Eventually a boat will find me and fish me out, or I will drown.

And if I drown.. does it really matter? There are echos in the back of my mind. Yes. It does. No. It doesn’t. The argument as to which is the truth.

So… adrift I shall remain, in a sea of emotions that I don’t understand right now, and don’t quite know how to sort through. I suppose this is how one learns to be their own anchor. To not need anyone.

I should probably sleep.

Yours, restless

-Rene

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The Ache

I am completely exhausted.

This is the first day since I’ve come back that I haven’t worked…and it will probably be the last day before I go back east for the Christmas season. I’m pushing my body to the absolute max.. One day off and I remember why. When I’m working I’m not thinking.

The Christmas season is odd for me… when I was younger it was my second favorite time of year (Halloween always trumped). Christmas Eve is a big deal in my family… or it was. I’m Italian, and we would always go to my Grammy’s house and meet with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, eat way too much food, drink wine, and then one by one all of the grandchildren would open their Christmas gifts. My Grammy ran the show while she was alive and then when she passed my aunt took over. Her last Christmas was three years ago, and she was so weak that she couldn’t come.. I brought my camera and we actually shot a video of all the cousins opening their gifts so she could see all of our reactions. After she passed away I stopped going to Christmas Eve.

I don’t get along with my extended “family” for a variety of reasons.. I feel extremely alone and out of place when I’m around them. That loneliness is doubled when you are the lone rebel who remains home while the rest of the family trecks up to continue a mockery of a tradition…

Bah. Bitter feelings I don’t need to get into.

This is the first year since my aunt died that I’ve been..excited for Christmas. It’s not even about the gifts. I don’t have a Christmas list for the first time since I was about three, no matter how many times my older sister hounds me for one. It’s about actually wanting to sing the songs I hear on the radio again, watching White Christmas and Holiday Inn and allowing myself to be nostalgic. Curling up with my mom’s home made cocoa and Christmas cookies and watching my cat freak out at the amount of tissue paper she is allowed to pounce on Christmas morning.

The best part of the holiday season is going back east. It’s the one time of year that I can get a large enough chunk of time off to go to Boston and see my best friends.. It’s not that I don’t have friends in California, I do.. This group is special though. They are my ride together, die together group. Out of the five of us, I moved west and the rest are all in the Boston area still. Once a year I see them..and once a year I breathe easier. There’s no pretense when I’m around them. They’ve seen all my sides.. They watched me break and saw me at my absolute lowest and still loved me.

I miss Boston itself. The crisp air that can get so cold exposed skin will crack. The lights in Harvard Square during Christmas time. I miss marzipan from Mike’s Pastries and the journeyman bowl from Life Alive. Boston turned me into who I was. When I go back I feel more in my bones.. That’s my holiday season, my reason to celebrate. It’s my dose of love and companionship before the loneliness of the actual Christmas holiday. It’s this time of year that I debate moving back there; seeing if I could rejoin the world of my chickies and bring the man I love with me..

Life isn’t that simple.

Things have gotten better. Kane and I are in an okay place.. I just miss him. I’ve never had a boyfriend with me for the holidays.. even when I was in a relationship he celebrated Christmas 3000 miles away from me. This year will be no exception to that tradition of mine. And so I’ve thrown myself into making gifts (as I am a poor little creature… No buying unless I have to) and working. When I’m working I’m not thinking. I’m not worrying about what I’m missing and I can be grateful for what I have. I look forward to giving Kane what I’ve made for him..seeing the smile on his face.

He is surprisingly not the only man I’m making gifts for.. I have managed to find the beginnings of a secondary partner. We met about three weeks ago at Dark Odyssey, Surrender, a BDSM convention weekend thing at one of the hotels in the city. Mr. Smith has managed to make quite an impression… and part of me is still reeling from it. He’s new and shiny and confusing, and utterly lovable in certain ways.

I find myself achieving an odd balance with him and Kane. I don’t feel like I take away from one by thinking about the other… I have completely different relationships with the two of them, and the fact is the relationship with Smith wouldn’t exist if I didn’t have full permission from Kane to pursue it. He’s my anchor, my primary, and if he and I aren’t okay then I can’t really focus on other partners.. I have a friend that’s often stated that multiple partners handled the right way allow you to be the best you that you can possibly be.. I’m starting to fully understand that. There are kinks that I have that Kane and I don’t connect on..but Smith and I have. Vice versa with Smith and Kane. The two combined on a day where I get to see Kane have me so at peace and content.

I am very grateful for what I have. I see my vanilla and my kinky life improving greatly and have a lot to look forward to in the coming weeks.. That ache of loneliness remains an undercurrent beneath it all, rearing its ugly head from time to time.. I feel it. I rarely succumb to it, but I know it’s there..

I still have so many gifts to make, so much work to do. It’s a small miracle I have time to dwell on this long enough to write an entry XD Back to work I go.

Yours puttering along, on a new (okay… refurbished, but new to me) computer with a new working keyboard.

-Rena

Emotional Masochism

Sometimes, on a particularly low day, I go on Facebook and look at Kane’s photos. Some I love. From time to time he posted selfies that are just…him. The man I love.

Others I look through for reality checks.

I never forget the fact that he’s married. I would love to sometimes. Would love to have him to myself, to be able to proudly show him off to my family and friends as much as he shows off me when we’re in a dungeon together. I want to be able to tell everyone and their mother that we’re dating, and that I’m madly in love with this man. That we talk about a future sometimes. That we talk about trips to Hawaii, and from time to time to see my family.

The reality of the situation is that I am the “other woman”. I have been since July. The moment emotions got involved he was cheating, and I cheated with him. The guilt eventually turned to resentment; resentment that this person that seemed horribly incompatible with the man I meshed with so easily had all the claim to him when I had none.

It wasn’t so bad in the beginning. In the beginning, I was spoiled. I got weeks with him instead of days and lived in this sheltered bubble that he was mine as much as I was his, and that we were meshing worlds. I cooked him dinner. We curled up and watched movies together. We slept in the same bed. We went away on an incredible weekend vacation that I never wanted to end, where for the first time in my life I felt not only like a princess but his princess.

Then the weeks turned to five or four days…then every other week..for four days.. Then weeks apart. Now this.

Each time I resent her, I go on his Facebook. There staring me in the face is his relationship status, the first check. “Married to”. I wince, I breathe. I click on his photos and scroll all the way to the end. The very first photos are from his wedding. I make myself scroll up and look at the photos of the two of them, happy and in love. I can hear his voice in my ear as I do this. “I married her for a reason.” I wonder sometimes if he can really understand my resentment.

I look, really look, at what I’m asking him to end. A life together, a real, acknowledged, merging of two people. A house together. Friends together.

The friends don’t know about me. No one does outside of the kink community. None of his friends know we’re together. His family doesn’t. It dawned on me when he left for Hawaii that if something happened, Godde forbid, I wouldn’t find out. No one would think to reach out to me because for all they know I’m a casual friend, if they know of me at all. I have photos of the two of us together… on my phone, away from the public. I don’t even post them on Fetlife for fear of his best friend finding them and him having to explain. I don’t want him to have to explain, to be stressed, to be uncomfortable.

It’ll be six months December 2nd since he first said he loved me. Six months since we recognized what was going on between us, and that it would be more than either of us ever thought. And for months we tossed around ideas. He could come home for Thanksgiving and meet my parents. By then he was sure he would have made progress with his wife and if he went to Hawaii it was just to keep things civil. Maybe by November we would be looking at places together, we said in August. Maybe a small transition place that we can start moving his stuff in. Something we could build together. We were going to go to Ikea and get a bookcase months ago. But timelines were never our thing. He didn’t want to give me time frames he couldn’t guarantee. I quit my job and suddenly my extra income was gone. Eventually, the frames and the talk that went along with them disappeared.

When I am ready to scream with frustration I force myself back on to Facebook and see the ways that she is compatible. That financially she is fifty thousand…more like three hundred and fifty thousand… times more put together than I am. She is established, with her life put together when mine continually splinters apart. She has the time put in, the established relationships, when I’ve been around less than a year. She’s the same age as him. I’m a lot younger.

Sometimes my mind decides to travel down hypothetical lane. Hypothetically what would have happened if we met before? She’s been around since I was a teenager… It’s very possible we’ve crossed paths in the city before. He lived there when I went in every other week or so. But he wouldn’t have looked at me, dressed vanilla and young as a pup running around the museum with my family. And after? Would we have crossed paths years from now when he finally pulled away and was on his own again? He may not have been looking for a submissive anymore…may have given up on that route, along with children.

There are so many mays, and maybes, and perhaps, and possibles. There are no more promises. Just hopes. Lots of hopes that help me sleep at night. We have this little app called You and Me on our phones.. It’s supposed to be for a relationship, to send things between the two of you. I go back and look through what we sent each other in August and September and I smile. I think about apple picking. About that long ride where we drove together for hours and talked about everything and nothing; I felt that zaa-zaa-zoo that drew me to him as a person in the first place. There was a moment, looking at the sunset in Santa Cruz at the end of a perfect day. He stood next to me, just for a moment looking at the horizon. As corny as it sounds, in that one moment I loved him so fully and completely. I saw how we would work together long term. I saw the future, and I smiled..it made all the other shit worth it.

I picture that when all the maybe’s raise their ugly head. When I sleep alone, knowing he’s sharing a bed with her, and I miss him so bad it hurts. When I selfishly want to scream at her to go the hell away so that I can start a life with him already. I never forget that she was there first..and when I want to beg him to give me more time, to finally tell people about me, to walk away from his wife, I check myself. I go on his Facebook and force myself to see the relationship there. I force myself to give her respect. He married her for a reason.

I don’t know what will happen when I see him again… When talking will begin again. But I continue to check myself. She earned that place in his bed beside him.. regardless of where they are in their relationship now I can’t scream at her to relinquish that right because I’m lonely. Because I miss his heat and his touch. She was here first. I never kid myself in that, as a submissive or a girlfriend. He picked her before me.

I ended up writing this whole thing because of a conversation I had with a friend I am quickly becoming close to. I had sent him a text telling him that I was trying very hard not to be bothered by Kane’s wife being in Hawaii with him. He immediately called in response. He’s in a poly relationship with a woman who’s in an open marriage for all the RIGHT reasons, and the first words out of his mouth were “I’ve been there. I understand exactly how you feel, and how illogical it is. And you just want to reign it in and put on a smile for that person and tell them everything is okay because it’s all your internal war… and that’s fine. But you are allowed to feel what you are feeling. It’s okay to acknowledge it. It’s okay to be jealous, and lonely, and not have words for how much you miss that special person. All of that is okay. Just let yourself feel. Put on whatever face you want to keep the person you love sane but let yourself feel“. And so I did. I’m hoping writing all of this down will get some of the non-concentual pain out of my body..

Sometimes, I really am a damn masochist.

Thoughtfully yours,

-Rena

Waiting..and Hoping…

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It has been twelve days since I’ve seen my Dom… Twelve very long days.

Once again, I’m back in New Jersey. It’s great to see my family, as usual..but my chest is so tight.

I don’t know where we are..what we are… I miss him so much I ache.

It’s not a simple matter of communicating through technology while he is gone, filling the void how he can. He has horrible reception where he is, and he dislikes talking on the phone. I am an incredibly tactile person. I close my eyes at night and I crave his touch, the way he traces his finger around my face as if he’s trying to memorize it. I crave his scent… I miss the security of curling up right in my spot next to him, our bodies wrapping around one another. I miss his voice, and his face… I just miss everything about him.

He’s been so busy, getting everything that needs to be done, done. I understand.. I’m trying so hard to, but I feel such a distance between the two of us… He and I had a falling out about communication before I left for home, and then again once I got here just two days ago.

The weekend before I had done something I hadn’t in so long. I went and I played with others. I went to Dark Odyssey’s Surrender event and actually connected with a dominant man for the first time since Kane and I got more serious. I partially went out of my own loneliness, and partially went because he had tasked me with getting back to that place while he was gone, the one where I could have fun with others without feeling this knot of guilt, as if I was betraying him. I played, sort of.. I couldn’t do full on, intense scenes.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. One of my best friends in the kink community was there, someone who can be very paternal with me. Before the weekend was over I asked something of him that I have never asked of anyone. I asked if he would beat me. I am not a pain slut, far from it. I have a very low pain tolerance compared to most submissives out there…but I was in so much pain. I wanted Kane there… All these intimate scenes, people connecting around me, and I just wanted my Dominant to take me and put me on the cross, flog me with the red and black flogger we both love..

He flogged me, and I felt nothing. Spanked me..paddled me… I started laughing. As odd is this sounds, that’s a bad sign for me. When I actually get into sub space I become very quiet. I sigh a bit, let out little noises, but I never laugh. I broke down about a minute later and was sobbing so hard my friend refused to continue. He flipped me around, hugged me, and ended up helping me with a different sort of aftercare. He took me over to the side, sat me down, and had me list all the reasons I am thankful Kane is my Dom. Then list all the negatives of him being gone for so long, and see if the pros outweighed the cons. They did, by a long shot..

The other day I found out just how much my outside play bothered him, and just what insecure thoughts he had floating around in his head. Since then… I don’t know. He’s been texting me from time to time, and I’ve been texting him, but nothing D/s has been discussed. Nothing deep and emotional has been discussed. It’s been light, cute.. friend like.

I’m hoping I”m just emotional..reading too much into something when I’m far away and can’t fully connect…but I can tell you straight out that I would give quite a lot to hear him tell me he loved me right now. I haven’t heard the phrase in so long..I think that’s what shakes me.

Photos are hard for me..especially of my lower body. I don’t like my stomach, don’t like my pudge. In an attempt to connect after an awkward day I made a video for him, something that I don’t do… I sent it to him. He mentioned being excited to watch it… and then he was gone for the night. I hope he watched it.. hope he liked it..but I don’t know. I don’t know if it was right to do, if he wants me submitting to him now or to wait until he sees me in person.

I don’t know anything right now, and I don’t know whether or not he has the time to reassure me and calm the frantic thoughts in my mind.

And so I wait..and I hope… I will see him sometime around December 1st, hopefully…

Until then, I stare at my phone. I send him what I can. I try to keep him involved without spamming him when he can’t respond. I try not to beg when I know he is tired and stressed and busy. I love, fully and completely, and try to tell him so at least once a day, support how I can when it’s a world I don’t know.

I pray the pit in my stomach is wrong.

Yours, waiting

-Rena

What the Funk

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It always happens this time of year…probably because I’m always home (somehow). I call it the ‘single funk’. It never fails. Every year for some reason this time of year I’m…single.

I come from a microscopic small town. The biggest event we have is something called the St. Anthony’s Feast, a small carnival the local church throws right before school gets out every year. I have gone every year of my life. Even when I’m living 3000 miles away most of the time, somehow I can’t escape the feast. 

When I was a kid the feast was a serious highlight of my year. It marked the beginning of summer. It meant rides, zeppoli (fried bits of heaven with powdered sugar.. If you’ve never had it break the damn diet and eat some), and goofing off around the giant church parking lot with my friends. As you get older, however, it becomes something else. It’s where you take your family, or your significant other, as a first exposure to what it means to be with someone from Hawthorne. The feast is a formal invitation into our culture, into a town that doesn’t allow new people in all that easily and will shun you like hell when you go. 

This year… I feel more lonely than I think I ever felt while in San Francisco. I no longer have a single friend in my home town. Many acquaintances still, but no friends. Dragon was the last, and she and I haven’t spoken in about a month. 

I’ve become almost a local myth in this town, which amuses me. I’ve spent the week walking around and watching as the mothers gossip and the kids a couple years younger than me recognize me..barely. Their eyes widen, and I hear at least one go “Is that really her? Holy hell!” Have I changed so much since I left this place? 

Yeah… probably. I no longer blend in. I hold my head higher. I know that I am beautiful, desirable, and a damn catch to the lucky guy (or guys..) who gets me. I make no apologize for who I am and where I live. I stand on my own two feet. No one knows what to do with me because of this. They all expected me to be back east by now, having come to my senses and realizing that my roots would always be my home and that there was no point in leaving. They didn’t expect me to move out west for good. 

I’m not sure that I expected to move out for good, not all the way to California. And yet I’m in the process of doing just that, and I’m happy with my choice on top of it all. I like my life, I like who I am, but trust my home town to rub in my face what my life lacks. 

Tonight I will go to the feast with my baby sister, because that is what you do when you are from this town. I will eat zeppoli and try to win my little sister a prize, and I will try to ignore the strange looks from the people who half remember the little shadow that used to live here, and hated every second of it. 

Jase’s new girlfriend is making her presence very much known on Facebook…and maybe that is part of my funk, although I hate to admit it. I hate to admit that her existing, that him having moved on, bothers me. I don’t even know the man he is anymore…let her have him. Says logical me. 

Emotional me is crying a little, missing the friend and the relationship, and hating her just because of who she is. That he has someone and that I am alone, at least in the romance department. I have play partners, yes, but an emotional connection? Not yet. No one I could bring to the feast, or ask to meet my parents. Nothing that can be pulled from the BDSM world into the vanilla world. Outside of BDSM, to everyone else I am single. 

I always am this time of year. 

Yours flying solo, and missing San Francisco

-Rena