Tag Archives: struggle

Too Much

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It’s Christmas Eve.

When I was a child, this was my favorite day of the year. My Grammy would hold court at my Grammy and DadDad’s house and all the family would go up for Italian Christmas Eve. The cousins would receive gifts from the aunts, uncles and grandparents. We would eat the best food we would have all year, play with our new toys, and go home to quickly scamper into bed before Santa came.

As I’ve gotten older, it’s morphed into something else entirely, a grotesque mockery of the happy day it used to be. When my Grammy died, my aunt took over holding court. When she passed away… I stopped wanting to go. My cousins and I have no relationship. I don’t know my uncles at all. I went for my DadDad, because Christmas Eve was when he told the best stories. I would sit and drink coffee with Sambuca and Baileys with him and listen to him reflect. It made the Christmas Eves bearable.

The last month… the last week… has been hell for me. It started with my DadDad’s death… and then a couple weeks later I totaled my car in a stupid accident because I hadn’t been able to get my breaks done. I found myself without my income, and scrambling more than ever because that night I learned my rent was going up $200 the next month. I had nothing in savings, living day by day as I did… and I knew my parents would be no help. When I told them about the accident my dad called me stupid, and said he didn’t know what to tell me. My mom just cried. The car had been hers first, and was her first new car.. and me without income meant I couldn’t send them student loan money, which meant that they would have to cover my loans again this month because I “can’t get my life together and don’t have my priorities straight.”

I am blessed in other ways… my friends, my chosen family, and my partner have been incredibly supportive. One of my best friends, a firecracker named Annie, helped me get a gofundme together and told me over and over not to be ashamed to ask for help.. that big girl or not, life happens to the best of us. She’s kept me going, helped me with the car shopping process (my credit is shit, so I needed cheap and fast..which often means fixer uppers. She’s also a mechanic, and a lifesaver in so many ways). Another friend, Brian, came out and looked at my car after the accident and gave me options as to what to do next. The gofundme itself has raised over $1000, giving me a little bit to work with when I have no new income coming in. So many people have hugged me and told me it was going to be okay. Others have said if I’m still short when it gets closer to rent day to come to them. They will help. At home, I feel supported, and loved. Person after person has slowly been convincing me that it’s going to be okay.

My partner Chris has been incredible support, from little things like making sure I’ve been eating and that I wasn’t alone to bigger things like helping out with the gofundme. He’s kept me smiling, and I am grateful…

And then there is James… my Master, who is far too much in the same boat that I am in. He’s helped in ways that have honestly meant the most.. Giving me time he didn’t have to spare, arms to curl up in, kisses that make me feel adored and wanted. He’s held me when I needed the safety of being swallowed in his arms, and when I’ve started dropping caught me before I fell. He’s known when I needed pleasure and when I’ve needed play without me asking… without me even knowing. The man can read me like a fucking book, and I’ve been more grateful for that in the last week than I can properly express in words.

Tuesday was my last night in the Bay for two weeks. The trip to New Jersey for Christmas was pre-planned and pre-arranged by my parents. I couldn’t get out of it. I couldn’t say no when my mother was clinging to me being ‘home’ for Christmas. It was also my last day watching a child that I’ve been caring for for over a year and a half; an adorable two year old that has made a huge impact on my life. Knowing my emotional state leaving this little girl, my Master invited me along to a game night up in Napa. I love his friends, and have felt so accepted by all of them, so of course I said yes.

I’ve been using Getaround cars to..well… get around (yay smart phone apps. The Bay Area has certain advantages). I had a rental expiring that evening, and so made a plan with James to rent another car just for the time in Napa, drop the car back off in the city after the game night, and then James would drive me the rest of the way to my house. He would spend the night, we would get much-needed intimate time together before I disappeared for the holidays, and he would bring me to the airport in the morning before going into the city for BaGG that evening (which I was regrettably missing because of my flight time… The holiday flights were so expensive I didn’t have much choice in that matter).

We never made it into the city. The game night was fabulous, and brought me a lot closer to his friends. I gave each of them a tarot reading that I think did some good…and even gave one to my Master himself which revealed a few things.. I’m still not sure I’m ready to face or process. He was going to bring his best friend home and then follow me into the city.

Master’s car has needed to be serviced for a while. The poor thing has had its check engine light on for as long as I can remember.. he just hasn’t had the money to fix it. On the way into the city that night the poor car finally broke down… Smoke coming out of the engine and all. I got a call for him while I was driving ahead saying that I would need another ride to the airport tomorrow. I turned around to find him, scrambling as to how I was going to get back to my place all the way down the peninsula. Bart wasn’t running anymore and the rental had to be back by 6 a.m…

I found him finally, pulled over by the entrance to a bridge whose name I still can’t remember. He was distant… trying to think of all that needed to be done now. He had to get down to BaGG that evening. Had to figure out how to get his car up and running so that his life didn’t end up on hold. He’s a paraplegic, so it’s not so simple as it is for me of just find a cheap, running car and move on. Hand breaks are expensive. Life is expensive.

It was freezing… my cold is now back with a vengeance from waiting around for a tow truck for two hours. But it’s two more hours I got with him. There was a little cuddling… and a slightly devastating conversation with him where he told me there were similarities between his relationship with me and his relationship with his ex wife (someone I never want to be like, ever). There are ghosts I can’t shake from his past..and they are impacting my relationship in the present… Combine that with him just being so far away, me losing that night with him, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get to the airport and get home and general and worrying about him getting home, about his car when I know he’s in a worse financial state than even I am in… I was, and am still, a mess. I was of no use to my Master, my boyfriend..and only proved to add to his plate, because on top of his worries he was worrying about what I could do to get where I need to go safely.

His friends came through.. two women who are slowly beginning to feel like sisters to me. They met me in the city (when they also live in Napa) and drove me all the way back home. Last I saw my Master, he was getting into a tow truck. We’ve texted briefly…but he’s been busy…

I got home at 6 a.m… finally fell asleep around 7, only to wake up at 11 to pack. I couldn’t bring my cat with me like I’d planned, and leaving Poe for two weeks, even in the hands of people I trust, is hard for me. I left the meager gifts I was able to get together for my roommates (I haven’t Christmas shopped at all and have scrambled and scrounged instead) on the kitchen table, took a Lyft to the airport that I couldn’t afford, and boarded a plane that stayed on the tar mat for two hours before finally taking off with at least six screaming children on board.

I have not Christmased. I have had neither the energy nor the heart to. With all that has happened my mind is three thousand miles away, with my family and my Master. I didn’t know we would be doing Christmas Eve at my DadDad’s house when my parents picked me up last night… my mother sprung it on me today. We are going up to a house that has already been picked clean by spiteful siblings, a last hurrah before its sold. A house my DadDad built with his two hands, that his children and grandchildren grew up in, is an empty shell, a mockery. I will be asked over and over to explain myself. Explain my life. How I’m doing. I will be judged and picked apart by strangers I share blood with.

My parents are trying to put on this charade that they’re all excited for Christmas… but none of the traditions have happened that have happened in years passed. For the first time in my life the gifts are under the tree before Christmas morning. There is no surprise this year because my mother just doesn’t have the time to wrap and arrange them tonight. Santa Clause and the mystery around him is dead. My father is exhausted, my mother has just been going on about how much she’s been working and how she has no time off while I’m here. And I have been crying.

There is no safe place to cry in this house. I broke down in the shower and my mother came in to ask me what was wrong. How do I say everything? How do I say this Christmas is hell and I just want to go home, when she expects the house I grew up in to still be my home? How do I tell them I feel like a stranger, intruding on rituals I don’t understand.

The cherry on top of all of this is that my parents have figured out that my lifestyle isn’t a phase. My dad noticed the slave ring on my left ring finger, a gift from Master. A day collar. Both of them have problems with it, and keep asking what I lacked in my childhood to want to walk this path. I can’t be who I am anymore around them. I can’t talk about what’s bothering me. I can’t be open and honest. I can’t even cry safely, because when I cry they expect an explanation for it.

Why am I crying? Because it’s all too much. Because I feel so very broken.. so lonely. So isolated from everything that I love. Because I desperately miss my Master even though it’s only been a day. Because I haven’t heard from  him today and worry that spam texting him will only make him go further away and not want to talk to me when I need his voice, his touch, his presence.

He dropped me off at the airport when I was going back for my DadDad’s funeral… That morning, he gave me a pendant of his. A geeky, Harry Potter pendant that I love. A part of him that I could have on me, so that even when he wasn’t here, he was. I have been clinging to it like my life depends on it… that and a tee shirt of his that I’ve had for so long it no longer smells like him (I was going to get another on Tuesday night..but…).

It’s too much. It’s all too much… I’m hurting so bad and I can’t cry because if I do I’ll get asked fifty thousand questions I can’t answer. I don’t want to hurt my parents more than they are already hurting. Better I be the one that hurts. At the end of all this I get to go home. They have to stay here.

I want to go home for Christmas. I want my Master and my friends… I want to feel safe, and wanted, and loved. Who gives a shit about gifts and charades.. I don’t know how much I can act tonight. How much I can pretend that I give a fuck, or don’t when they rip into me. Because they will. They always do. I said I was done with them at my DadDad’s funeral..and my mother is making me see them again. Making me pretend, for her sake, that we’re a happy fucking family.

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

They say home is where the heart is. I can never tell my parents that my heart just isn’t here anymore. It’s with my Master and my family in California.

I am battered, I am bleeding, but I am still yours.

-Rene

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Daydreams and Dulldrums

 

I turn 24 in 10 days.image

It doesn’t feel like it, really… Honestly I feel older. Exhausted. I’ve had a knot in my chest for about a week now, a heavy weight that continually reminds me that I need to find a new home ASAP with shit credit and very little in the bank. And a cat. Who is currently trying very hard to sit on the keyboard while I type.

My friends back east have started asking me what I want for my birthday.. What do I want? Honestly?

I want one uninterrupted day with my boyfriend. I want to get my favorite coffee drink at my favorite cafe in the Haight and show him all of my favorite spots, including the Anarchist bookstore where we could actually afford to shop. I want to get a new pair of boots at Wasteland and possibly a pretty dress to wear the following night at BaGG.

I want to talk.. have those conversations that only happen when he and I are on our own, and bask in the glory of having nothing to do other than enjoy each other’s company. I want to snuggle. Kiss. I want to sit in his lap and secretly (not so secretly) revel in the fact that there is a lap at my disposal whenever I desire (and/or am allowed to) snuggle.

I want him to surprise me.. to take me somewhere I’ve never seen before. He always surprises me.

I want to eat my favorite popcorn tuna roll at Saru sushi and get the yummy salmon tasting plate, and drink sake out of the pretty little glass cups that look way too breakable to be functional. I want to for once not be in a hurry, not be stressed. I want to feel just a little bit special for the day.

And I admit, I want to go star gazing. I want him to be relaxed and happy and just…enjoy the moment. I want one day that is mine.

And yes, I want fantastic birthday sex and snuggles afterward. I want marks and welts and bites and to sob and shake before being fucked into that blissful pleasure/pain state. I want to fly in the way that only submitting allows me to. I want bliss. And then I want birthday spankings at BaGG the next evening and lots of photos and spankings and bruises. I want his hands on me. Marking me, claiming me. I want that half-posessive grab on my leg he does during BaGG that I’m not even sure he notices that he does… the grin on his face that says “You make look, and you may touch, and yes she’s pretty, but this is mine.”

The reality is that my birthday is on a Tuesday… Weekdays are a hard day to get to relax during.. it doesn’t happen. James has been incredibly busy lately, which is a good thing. It means paychecks and photos and him doing what he loves…

It’s just… yeah.

I can’t take a whole Tuesday off… I have to make firsts and lasts for a new place. I have to HUNT for a new place to start with. I have to make double of what I normally do in a single month, factor in renting a truck, moving on my own, loading truck time, boxes, pet deposits..

I saw an apartment two days ago that I want with everything in me.. I’m waiting, holding my breath, hoping they get back to me and say that it’s mine. And if it isn’t? More applications. More searching. More hoping. More praying my bad credit and cat don’t make finding a home impossible.

I know why I am in the mood that I’m in, logically. I understand the melancholy. The desire to just curl up in the safest place I know and just… stay for a while. I know that this too shall pass and that better things are to come.. That I will eventually turn a corner. That there will come a time when both James and I will find that delicate balance between working enough to afford gas and not working so much so that we actually have free time to see each other..  I was just.. hoping I could actually celebrate my birthday.

23 has been hard. It’s been a bitch, quite frankly. It had a good start… I can’t complain about being a Disney princess for a day and being allowed to run rampant around Disneyland… But 23 had a lot of heartache too… a lot of harsh lessons learned and way too much time spent alone. The reality is that I like having a community.. I like knowing people, having friends.. and yes, I like that I am with someone that isn’t afraid of their kinky side… that is as open about it as I am and doesn’t go by some double name (I’m sure there’s a blog post about that sometime in the future).

I am… exhausted. Emotionally wrecked at the moment. But I’m in a state where I can work in the not so artistic way. Get me like this and I can haul ass.. Eye on the prize. I need a new home. And fuck it, I’m going to get it for my birthday. 24 is all new and shiny.. Possibilities are endless. And dammit I’m getting too old to be this lost for much longer. 24 will have grad school in it, this I can assure you.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get some cuddles, kisses, and bruises from James.. As busy as our lives can be he’s proven to be very good at making time when I need it..and knowing when I need it. Before I can fall and break he catches me and sets me back on my feet, then gives me just enough of a shove so that I can start walking again…

Gah. Okay. That sounded like a ball of mush even to me. I’m done spewing, promise.

Off to work now. HAUL ASS TIME!!!!

Yours, feeling old

-Rena

Stuck

I am struggling with the creative side of myself right now. I have been for a while.

I feel like I’m stuck in a fog whenever I try to work.. on anything. Getting myself up and motivated is a struggle. I’ll wake up early and watch the hours pass by in bed until I absolutely HAVE to go to work.

I hate this.. and the thing is? My life isn’t half bad.

I still have adventures to write about from Fusion. I’ve started six or seven drafts and haven’t manage to finish a single one. Even now when I’m writing my fingers feel like lead..  The temptation to close the computer screen and just walk away from the entry again is great.

I don’t know what caused this. But I am trying to fix it.

The people around me are driven creatively. They work hard for all they are able to do. They continually have projects to fiddle and tinker with. I’m trying to figure out where all of my projects went. Where this fog came from..and how I didn’t notice it until it was this bad.

Whenever I’ve been bothered by the Sleeping Man in the past it’s been with good reason. I’ve been going through a rough patch, in an unhappy relationship, stressed about money and making it by, etc.. And I’m not dealing with that right now. My relationship is good. My life is pretty good.

It could be better… it’s just getting myself moving again. Pulling myself out of the fog.

I have an idea.. the first for a sculpture in a long time.. Hopefully I will work on it tonight after work.. And I PROMISE I will get back to writing in here more frequently.

Because the thing is, while other parts of my life are okay the kinky side of things is GREAT. And I want to squee and spew about it.. But every time I try lead fingers happen.

I’ve got to get myself out of this fog.

Yours, as always,

Rena

Exploring New Ground

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Tomorrow I leave for Fusion, a Dark Odyssey event in Northern Maryland. The event consists of 5 days of kink, INTENSE kink, classes, bonding, camping, etc.

When I originally bought my ticket, I was in a very different place with a very different relationship dynamic. I bought it missing the connection I had felt at Surrender between D.O members, and with the hopes of further exploring a connection with somehow I had met at the event outside of the “crash, bang, boom” as he put it.

Now, going, it’s almost like starting from scratch. I am in something new and shiny with someone who just doesn’t do relationships (something I’ve heard over, and over, and over), who for some reason picked me. The question is, will he keep me or will I bore him?

I have been back in New Jersey almost a week visiting my family before Fusion (the excuse that allows me to go to the event)..and I am at the point of crawling out of my skin. I’m blessed to live in a kink bubble, where all of my friends are in the scene in some way. I didn’t even think about vanilla repercussions for kinky actions before I left. I asked James to mark. I don’t have a collar yet (and I don’t want one yet. I take the commitment of a collar seriously. It’s something that’s earned with time and not something that appears just because you say you’re in a relationship with someone) and I needed something for my frazzled subby mind to feel claimed when I’m going to an event where many MANY others will be touching, and taking, and fucking, and spanking me. And, short term, it worked. I love when he bruises me. I wear the marks with pride.

…My parents…not so much. Hearing what I do is one thing. Seeing visible proof of the type of relationship I am in? … Probably a bit too much for them, along with me trying to justify why I have the marks. “I’m going to be gone for so long, and I’m going to a big kink event without my significant other. Seeing the marks makes me feel possessed even when he isn’t here.”

…Bad choice of words resulting in multiple lectures about how “loose” I’ve become. I’ve written multiple times about how open minded my parents are, and they really are. They will just always see me as their little girl, and processing the fact that their little girl craves being bruised and marked up is too much for most parents that I know, even mine.

Fusion… I’m still torn about it. Yes, I’m excited. I got my tent. I’ve got the extra phone chargers, a rough schedule of what I’m up to, a notebook for classes, more outfits than GODDE because dammit I’m gonna look cute if I’m gonna be photographed. But I’m still nervous. I know Smith and I will cross paths, along with his partner, and I’m not sure what will bother me more. If he acknowledges me or if he doesn’t. I don’t care about any kinky fuckery we engaged in. I care about the loss of a friend… so much so apparently that I’ve had rather vivid nightmares depicting multiple reactions from him if we cross paths. Why am I going on my own? Why did I think this was a good idea???

Before I left for my trip back east I stopped by to visit my friend Lexi. She humors me and listens to me ramble…probably much too much… and I did indeed ramble about James. It’s been a while since someone has gotten to me as much as he has, gotten under my skin, and she let me gush about how sweet he is, let me ramble about how nervous I was and how new and shiny things were and what on fucking earth was I doing. She smiled when I squeed about being in a relationship again..actually being someone’s girlfriend where that someone is willing to show me off to people. I exist, everyone knows it..and it’s a nice novelty after being a secret and a second choice.

We talked about my worries about Smith and any conflict between him, his partners, and I. She just laughed. “You’re not a drama starter, pixie”, she told me. “You’re not going to go looking for a fight you don’t want. Besides, before if they messed with you they were messing with me, along with others. Now?” She laughed. “They’re messing with James. Not something someone does unless they have a death wish. He chose you, sweetie. That means a LOT, especially from him. He doesn’t take someone on lightly.”

Logically, I know all this. But logic and I don’t always get along, especially when emotions get involved.

The logic of “I am his” slowly gets worn away by days trapped in a time warp 3000 miles away. I love my family, I do, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been gone from my kinky little world, especially for this long. There’s only so many times I can say “I miss you” and not feel pathetic.. which I kinda do. It hasn’t been that long. It’s been a week. I’ve done long distance relationships where I went months without seeing my boyfriend and I was okay.. But I also skyped with that person, and had nightly phone calls, and sent photos back and forth and… yeah.

I’ve mentioned before how tactile I am. How I need touch from a partner. Being away from someone who I’m used to all but mauling me twice a week while immersed in this time warp environment has not been good for my girl brain, at all. He’s given me time.. he texts me when he can, and I appreciate that. I smile every damn time I see a text message from him. But I keep waiting for something to go wrong.

Because when I was with Kane and I came home, something always did.

Not a single holiday passed when we were dating where I wasn’t crying, missing the connection between he and I. I would go weeks without hearing his voice and seeing his face and it would KILL the part of me that craves connection. Trying not to go into panic mode with James when I’m this far away for this long has been an interesting challenge. He doesn’t do selfies, can’t Skype, and has shitty phone reception.. so my options are limited to words showing up on a screen. And I can feel the disconnect, the removal from the world I’m normally happily a part of.

When I’m fully immersed in the SF Kink scene I have no jealousy issues, and no self-doubt issues. I can tell from the way James looks at me that I am his, even when he goes off and spanks others, kisses others, etc. Most of the time I’m such a voyeur that I love to watch him do bad things to others, and the idea of watching him bottom for someone actually turns me on quite a lot.

Tonight, my jealousy spiked, along with my insecurities, while I was packing for camp. I was texting with James and he told me that he had recently reconnected with an old friend, and that they had bitten him last night.

Girl brain did very bad things. My lovely girl brain immediately tail spinned, going “That’s it! That’s the bad thing! You’re about to be downgraded, girl. Forget keeping that girlfriend title, forget having that talk about being his primary partner. FORGET IT. There’s no way you can compete with someone he has history with, especially when you’re this far away for this long. Of course he’s playing with someone else! You’re practically unreachable for almost a month. What did you expect?”

Now, logically I realize that my girl brain is on crack. A man like James does not randomly go “Ummm… YOU! I pick you!” after years of not having a relationship and just drop them like nothing. I know he cares about me. But I feel so damn isolated out here, and he’s out there having fun, and seeing friends, and playing.. and all my insecure bits say, “This is a very new relationship.. perhaps too new to survive you being gone this long…”

I am scared of Fusion, but I also think I need it to get my head back on straight. I am a kinky little creature. I’ve gotten into a pattern of play, between BaGG and dungeon parties, and too long without it does not make for a happy pixie. Specifically, and I hate admitting this, too long without seeing James. Without kneeling at his feet, or curling up next to him, attempting and failing to brace myself for the slaps and nails and kisses that make my knees week. I want to see what this other kink community is like… and I admit, I’ve enjoyed planning things with James in mind. I’m putting myself out there with getting photos taken. I normally hide from the camera at all costs… but I’m with a voyeur, and I aim to please.

This is new ground for me all around.. new kink event, new relationships, new boundary lines with the parental units…

Time to finish packing.

Yours a little out of sorts..but I’m getting there

-Rena