I am actually working flat chat right now with no time to spare, but a couple of migraine headaches in the past week has forced me to slow down and thus I found myself having a read of new blog posts on my blog roll this evening for a bit of light entertainment. I happened to notice Pygar’s ‘pain and punishment’ and had a good ole read there. Why is that topic so endlessly fascinating to me, I’d like to know?! I left Pygar a comment – thoughts on the top of my head and the tip of my tongue - and then I thought it might be fun to elaborate on them a bit here.
A good many submissives have an innate understanding, perhaps learned through experience that the Dominant is often not just playing around. He really does want the submissive to learn to do things his way and if she doesn’t do things his way, she may well find herself being corrected in a way that will be memorable and unpleasant. Even in the most relaxed of situations, and I think of my husband and I as fairly relaxed about D/s in the sense that there are very few ‘rules’ per se, he expects that I will behave in a way that accepts that we have a certain dynamic and when push comes to shove, he’s the boss.
This dynamic is always there but I think there is just something or other in the makeup of the submissive mind that feels obliged to test out the Dominant from time to time. For example, my husband had been away for 5 weeks when he arrived home last Friday night and proceeded to have his way with me. It is what I wanted. Desperately. And yet, there came a moment when I said, “I’m not sure that this is appropriate. Shouldn’t we just cuddle a while?”
If he’d ‘wimped out’ on me I would have been a mess but true to form he upped the tempo and therein he assured me that he was the boss and that I had better just toe the line; fast! Perfect. That is just how I needed it to go. I wasn’t manipulating him. I didn’t plan it to be that way but my mind simply had to know if he was still up to the task of being the guy I needed. In this way, I think women sometimes misbehave because they need to see the outcome of the misbehaviour and if that is pain and punishment, so be it.
However one plays out ‘pain and punishment’ it seems to come down to issues of the dynamic between the two people. I made the comment on Pygar’s page that I dance with the Dom according to well learned steps. Once that dynamic is well in place, there seems less and less need to try to alter those steps. One can perhaps move in different ways but if it is a tango, it is a tango and if it is a waltz, it’s a waltz. One can move around the dance floor as the mood takes one, but one still has to use the appropriate steps.
My dynamic with my mentor, as an example, is clear. There is a degree of respect inbuilt into the dynamic and we never deviate from that. Well, I did once, unwittingly. It was one of those moments in life when one of my buttons had been pressed and I reacted fast and furious. My reply dripped with sarcasm but I was too busy being incensed to even take that in. I soon learned that sarcasm was completely and utterly unacceptable to him.
Did I learn because I was corrected or because he was so very clearly upset with me? Well, I’d say it was both. Bottom line, I recognized that my behaviour should never, ever be repeated and I have not had the slightest desire to ever put that to the test. It was a step I was unsure about. We stopped. He intervened, taught me the step in slow motion such that I would always have that step down and we moved on. I must say that I approve of this method. I like learning how to dance well. It is comforting and reassuring to walk out on that dance floor and have the confidence to dance well.
Over time, my husband and I have done all sorts of things; a few daily swats, a weekly correction, punishment for misbehaviour and fairly long bouts where our dynamic has no punishment or real pain at all. They have all had their place in our lives as we evolve. But I think most of all, I want to be thought of as “good”; as knowing what he wants and fitting snugly into my place underneath his wing. I just want to be loved; turned on; aroused, pleasing.
Sometimes, that means there is pain and sometimes that even means there is some form of punishment; or both. But, at the end of the day it is about getting that feeling of ownership that reminds me that I am one of the lucky ones: owned; cherished; much loved.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Like sister, like brother
I only have one sibling; a younger brother. Growing up, our parents were often unavailable to us and it made us close emotionally even though we had very different interests. I would often find him cuddled up beside me in my bed when I woke up because he was afraid of the dark and would come to me. Over the years we have stayed in close touch but we don’t see each other often due to geographical issues and our form of contact these days is mostly email and Skype.
This morning he Skyped me to say that he had returned back to Australia safely and for the very first time ever in our lives somehow or other we were talking about our childhood. He made a statement that floored me. I found myself reading, “My therapist felt that Mum didn’t give me enough affection.” And then I found myself saying, “I am seeing my psychologist this afternoon.” “Really?” he asked. “I am going to call you.” A few moments later I heard my mobile ring and therein began a conversation that I think neither of us ever expected that we would have.
We were in complete agreement. We had been loved without a shadow of a doubt but we had also not been privy to anything close to a normal childhood. Our parents’ behaviour had in no way been callous but it had been neglectful and we had been forced to admit that it had left us with some scars.
In my brother’s case it had compromised his sense of belonging and in my case it had compromised my sense of safety and security. In both cases we determined, quite separately, to create our own families. We both married young and we both had a fairly big family and we both put a lot into raising our children well.
Both of our voices broke as we shared what it had been like for us – virtually no celebration of Christmas or birthdays, working on public holidays, virtually no family holidays, my brother having to mind the business whilst my parents went away, my brother being encouraged to leave school and work the family business, my desires to go to university being criticized; being brought up by one Italian woman during the day and another at night without family meals; not actually having a family home but living within the business establishment with little privacy or security.
We talked about how impossible it remains to have a sense of family – my mother continues to try to avoid Christmas celebrations, actually planning a trip this year at that time to avoid it altogether, and although she is happy to send a cheque to my children on their birthday or at Christmas, she does not see it as appropriate that she should visit them on their special day or share Christmas with them. A sporting commitment meant that she avoided attending Grandparents Day at school with my youngest son last year, a situation that cut deep with me.
My brother is at a loss as to why my mother will not call him and insists that he call her. I encourage them both to call one another but the situation remains rather tense, particularly because he feels that he can only give her good news. It is true that she finds any problems troubling and it has seemed easier to assure her over the years that everything is brilliant rather than burden her.
Yet, the love is there in spades. I know that my mother loves us very much and wants only the best for us. It is just that she is not willing to alter anything in her life to make that happen. She is generous without question but not with her time or with herself. I guess you could say that our parents desperately wanted children but not the responsibilities of bringing up children.
My brother and I agreed and were adamant about the fact that we don’t hold the slightest resentment towards our parents. We have got on with our lives, forged our sense of identity with partners and had long, successful marriages. We belong to our partners and our partners belong to us and that is our sense of belonging.
My brother explained to my why he married the girl he did. Her mother is virtually identical to my mother in how she raised her children, what she was prepared to give of herself and the environment as well. When they met, they understood one another and what they needed. I finally understood my brother and his wife and how that relationship worked. I always knew that she needed my brother to the exclusion of almost anything else. I now understood that he was prepared to have this tight bond with her because they both needed that. He is very clearly the leader, the dominant of the relationship and she his submissive. I had understood her needs but I wasn’t quite sure why he needed such a girl. Now, I do.
It is a huge thing for me to write down these statements on paper – to finally understand myself in the context of how I was raised and to understand that my only sibling who was raised right beside me has needs not dissimilar to mine.
We seek an extremely strong bond to our partner. It is how we know who we are and where we belong. It is how we feel loved and secure. We not only want a life partner but someone who completes us, who needs us, and whom we need. We need someone to envelop us, to speak a secret language that only we understand (they too have a secret language he told me), and to always be there for us; come what may.
I am happy to say that we both chose the perfect partners for us; with the mirror image of our own particular needs. His wife has a submissive nature. My husband has a dominant nature. For both of us, our partners have filled the gaps and keep us whole.
This morning he Skyped me to say that he had returned back to Australia safely and for the very first time ever in our lives somehow or other we were talking about our childhood. He made a statement that floored me. I found myself reading, “My therapist felt that Mum didn’t give me enough affection.” And then I found myself saying, “I am seeing my psychologist this afternoon.” “Really?” he asked. “I am going to call you.” A few moments later I heard my mobile ring and therein began a conversation that I think neither of us ever expected that we would have.
We were in complete agreement. We had been loved without a shadow of a doubt but we had also not been privy to anything close to a normal childhood. Our parents’ behaviour had in no way been callous but it had been neglectful and we had been forced to admit that it had left us with some scars.
In my brother’s case it had compromised his sense of belonging and in my case it had compromised my sense of safety and security. In both cases we determined, quite separately, to create our own families. We both married young and we both had a fairly big family and we both put a lot into raising our children well.
Both of our voices broke as we shared what it had been like for us – virtually no celebration of Christmas or birthdays, working on public holidays, virtually no family holidays, my brother having to mind the business whilst my parents went away, my brother being encouraged to leave school and work the family business, my desires to go to university being criticized; being brought up by one Italian woman during the day and another at night without family meals; not actually having a family home but living within the business establishment with little privacy or security.
We talked about how impossible it remains to have a sense of family – my mother continues to try to avoid Christmas celebrations, actually planning a trip this year at that time to avoid it altogether, and although she is happy to send a cheque to my children on their birthday or at Christmas, she does not see it as appropriate that she should visit them on their special day or share Christmas with them. A sporting commitment meant that she avoided attending Grandparents Day at school with my youngest son last year, a situation that cut deep with me.
My brother is at a loss as to why my mother will not call him and insists that he call her. I encourage them both to call one another but the situation remains rather tense, particularly because he feels that he can only give her good news. It is true that she finds any problems troubling and it has seemed easier to assure her over the years that everything is brilliant rather than burden her.
Yet, the love is there in spades. I know that my mother loves us very much and wants only the best for us. It is just that she is not willing to alter anything in her life to make that happen. She is generous without question but not with her time or with herself. I guess you could say that our parents desperately wanted children but not the responsibilities of bringing up children.
My brother and I agreed and were adamant about the fact that we don’t hold the slightest resentment towards our parents. We have got on with our lives, forged our sense of identity with partners and had long, successful marriages. We belong to our partners and our partners belong to us and that is our sense of belonging.
My brother explained to my why he married the girl he did. Her mother is virtually identical to my mother in how she raised her children, what she was prepared to give of herself and the environment as well. When they met, they understood one another and what they needed. I finally understood my brother and his wife and how that relationship worked. I always knew that she needed my brother to the exclusion of almost anything else. I now understood that he was prepared to have this tight bond with her because they both needed that. He is very clearly the leader, the dominant of the relationship and she his submissive. I had understood her needs but I wasn’t quite sure why he needed such a girl. Now, I do.
It is a huge thing for me to write down these statements on paper – to finally understand myself in the context of how I was raised and to understand that my only sibling who was raised right beside me has needs not dissimilar to mine.
We seek an extremely strong bond to our partner. It is how we know who we are and where we belong. It is how we feel loved and secure. We not only want a life partner but someone who completes us, who needs us, and whom we need. We need someone to envelop us, to speak a secret language that only we understand (they too have a secret language he told me), and to always be there for us; come what may.
I am happy to say that we both chose the perfect partners for us; with the mirror image of our own particular needs. His wife has a submissive nature. My husband has a dominant nature. For both of us, our partners have filled the gaps and keep us whole.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
The greatest thing you'll ever learn
The heartbeat of an endearing and enduring relationship is a love for one another that runs deep. Deeper than those momentary little frustrations of life that we all experience in our contact with a partner must lie a love that is steady, constant and stronger than any other emotion. Love is the cement of a marriage or long lasting relationship and provides the foundation to be able to endure any number of missteps along the way. At least, that is my experience.
It has been said that “the greatest thing you could ever learn is to love and to be loved in return” and I agree. I want to adore someone and I want them to adore me as well. I want to care for someone and I want them to care for me back. I want to live my life devoted to someone and I want him to devote himself to me. I have always wanted this and continue to want this more than any other thing in life.
As it happens, when I keep this thought front and centre in my life, all other aspects of life fall into place. I have a clear head about what I should think, what I should do and how I should do it. In return, I feel how I want to feel which is cherished; loved; adored.
There are a great many complicating factors in a life and a life lived together with another human being and our web journal entries are testament to that. At the end of the day if we hold onto this one thought – that the goal is to love and to be loved in return – it is amazing how very simple things become and how rich and beautiful this world appears to the beholder of love.
It has been said that “the greatest thing you could ever learn is to love and to be loved in return” and I agree. I want to adore someone and I want them to adore me as well. I want to care for someone and I want them to care for me back. I want to live my life devoted to someone and I want him to devote himself to me. I have always wanted this and continue to want this more than any other thing in life.
As it happens, when I keep this thought front and centre in my life, all other aspects of life fall into place. I have a clear head about what I should think, what I should do and how I should do it. In return, I feel how I want to feel which is cherished; loved; adored.
There are a great many complicating factors in a life and a life lived together with another human being and our web journal entries are testament to that. At the end of the day if we hold onto this one thought – that the goal is to love and to be loved in return – it is amazing how very simple things become and how rich and beautiful this world appears to the beholder of love.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Question time
It appears that it is "Question Month". I've not officially been told of this but several bloggers have alluded to the fact that March is the month when you can ask questions of bloggers. If, per chance, you have a desire to ask me a question, please do so and I will give you a considered response.
It is a funny thing. When reading posts of other bloggers I often wonder about them - what they look like, what they look like in their house or apartment, how they interact with others as they go about their life - but none of these matters really take the form of a question. I don't think I can ask them such questions and expect a response, given our anonymous state. My questions relate to my inner curiosity about what makes them tick, what turns them on, what sort of life they lead; basically, who they are.
And, when they say in a post that they were spanked, I want to know in my mind's eye what the position was, how it came to be that, whether she looked in the mirror for any marks later. I want to know what sort of a bed they have and the colour of the sheets; if the weather outside is freezing or if they are looking onto tropical plants. I want to know how he kisses her and how she responds when he pulls her ponytail. I want the whole picture. I guess you could say, I want the details but I rather doubt that any of you are prepared to give them to me.
So, I completely understand if no-one can form a single question for me because I am not at all sure that I can form a single question for you that you'd be prepared to answer.
Nonetheless, the offer stands.
P.S. Here is a giveaway. My sheets are always white. It is a 'thing' I have.
It is a funny thing. When reading posts of other bloggers I often wonder about them - what they look like, what they look like in their house or apartment, how they interact with others as they go about their life - but none of these matters really take the form of a question. I don't think I can ask them such questions and expect a response, given our anonymous state. My questions relate to my inner curiosity about what makes them tick, what turns them on, what sort of life they lead; basically, who they are.
And, when they say in a post that they were spanked, I want to know in my mind's eye what the position was, how it came to be that, whether she looked in the mirror for any marks later. I want to know what sort of a bed they have and the colour of the sheets; if the weather outside is freezing or if they are looking onto tropical plants. I want to know how he kisses her and how she responds when he pulls her ponytail. I want the whole picture. I guess you could say, I want the details but I rather doubt that any of you are prepared to give them to me.
So, I completely understand if no-one can form a single question for me because I am not at all sure that I can form a single question for you that you'd be prepared to answer.
Nonetheless, the offer stands.
P.S. Here is a giveaway. My sheets are always white. It is a 'thing' I have.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Unexpected gift
She had left the light on for him. She didn’t know when or if he would be back but she left the light on for him anyway.
Days passed and she had no word. She didn’t know if he was unwell or if something had happened to him but in the back of her mind was the thought she could trust him. When he could, he would return to her.
She continued to do what she knew he would want her to do and that gave her strength. It provided the link to him and it comforted her as well. Even when he was gone, she was what he had made her and she understood what to do.
When she least expected it, he returned. There were a few words exchanged as to why he had needed to stay away and of course, she wanted to know if he was all right. He gave her an instruction to hush her. It was not sympathy he wanted of her but merely for her to return to her place of service to him.
She complied immediately. He barely acknowledged the compliance. This was not a time for sweet compliments. He wanted to know how she felt; what it did for her; how it changed her. He wanted to feed off her. He needed to consume her in fast, ravenous gulps. He asked question after question and eager to express herself in her place of service to him, she invited him into her mind and let him wallow there while he sucked at the bone of her veracious appetites.
She finally understood that it mattered not what time may pass, their needs would always be there: his to feed off her desire to satisfy him and hers to serve and thereby satisfy them both. No longer gliding above the surface they had sunk down into their places. From out of nowhere, this was a most precious gift.
Days passed and she had no word. She didn’t know if he was unwell or if something had happened to him but in the back of her mind was the thought she could trust him. When he could, he would return to her.
She continued to do what she knew he would want her to do and that gave her strength. It provided the link to him and it comforted her as well. Even when he was gone, she was what he had made her and she understood what to do.
When she least expected it, he returned. There were a few words exchanged as to why he had needed to stay away and of course, she wanted to know if he was all right. He gave her an instruction to hush her. It was not sympathy he wanted of her but merely for her to return to her place of service to him.
She complied immediately. He barely acknowledged the compliance. This was not a time for sweet compliments. He wanted to know how she felt; what it did for her; how it changed her. He wanted to feed off her. He needed to consume her in fast, ravenous gulps. He asked question after question and eager to express herself in her place of service to him, she invited him into her mind and let him wallow there while he sucked at the bone of her veracious appetites.
She finally understood that it mattered not what time may pass, their needs would always be there: his to feed off her desire to satisfy him and hers to serve and thereby satisfy them both. No longer gliding above the surface they had sunk down into their places. From out of nowhere, this was a most precious gift.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
A fork in the road
I opened this web journal to readers on March 9, 2009. I had written a couple of posts for Deity's web journal earlier than that, but March 9 is when I began writing here. And, I see that it is just slightly over two years since that day. Reading back there this morning, I feel rather pleased that my voice was loud and clear and that in fundamental ways, I have not changed.
I mentioned in the post that I was inclined to analyze and two years of writing here is testament to that! Oh boy! I mentioned that submission was a big part of my life and that is certainly still true today. I mentioned that I was "complicated" and that is now official. And, I mentioned that submission makes me happy and that what makes me happy makes for a happy husband and children. It is still pertinent and true. I am a fortunate woman to be able to say that I am much loved.
A lot of water has passed under the bridge in the past two years and I am delighted and grateful to also be able to say that I have learned much about submission and myself. It hasn't been a particularly easy period of my life but it has been rich in growth and I have had some truly extraordinary experiences and moments.
I'd be lying if I said that arousal was not a huge plus of the past two years. A few years prior to opening this web journal I came out as a spanko. The arousal began on that very first day and so I cannot attribute the writing here or the experiences of the past two years to turning on the arousal response. What I can say is that I learned to be aroused in very new and exciting ways over the past two years. Some of the most thrilling sexual experiences of my life took (and take) place in a state of complete surrender. Those states satiate my deepest longings; renew and enrich me in ways I had not thought imaginable.
I will always be grateful for the training I received that enabled me to reach those highs (or lows, depending on which way you look at). It has kept me young, playful and abundantly happy with life. It is my delicious, dirty secret and I consider myself very lucky. My husband (and remember he is pure Aussie and speaks from the heart and the gut at the one moment) has always maintained that you can tell when a woman has been well fucked. Many is the time when he tells me I "glow" and certainly in the hours after I have been "used" and even objectified, I feel an electric charge and a lightness of being that must surely be a good thing.
A lot of the work of the past two years has gone into my mindset. Given my husband's personality and mine, I have needed to come to terms with the fact that he's the boss not just in the bedroom but he's the boss of the family and of me, in all areas really. I needed to learn all sorts of things about that. I needed to learn to ask for what I need. I needed to learn to accept him for exactly who he is and not try to change him. I needed to learn to talk to him in a way where he listened and took in what I wanted to say.
I needed to learn to accept that when he decided to do things in his own way, I could be at peace with that and have faith that things would work out satisfactorily in the end. I belong to him and he belongs to me. We play different roles and have different responsibilities but we are two parts of a whole and a very intact, deeply loving and caring whole at that. I feel very at peace with all this now. I feel that our future is bright and I know we go forward in good order, completely united and have much to look forward to.
I've accepted myself as the introverted soul that I am. Enjoying the company of many different kinds of people, afterwards I look to go home and seek out my own company; to charge my batteries and reflect; always reflecting. I have learned that I must find ways to switch off my brain from the thoughts that so often race there and I now have a regular routine of walking with the dogs; yoga; pilates and being very still; a sort of meditation, though I have so much yet to learn about that. I seek a balance with the world and within myself that can only be mine when I embrace a still mind.
Objectification was an enormous part of stilling my mind and completely successful. I don't expect anyone to understand that any more than I expect anyone to fully understand anything that they have not experienced. I was only 'It' a handful of times but this was an 'out of body' experience for me and one I would not have missed for the world. I am eternally grateful to have had those opportunities.
I've loved embracing my 'dolli' state. I love dressing up and always have and the idea that I pay attention to my dress, my makeup, my nails and so on was like giving me a piece of New York cheesecake; scrumptious. Talking sweetly, minding my manners, choosing words very carefully and even removing words from my vocabulary were amazing experiences for me and I have relished them. The need to return to that cindi state often overwhelms me; what a happy little camper she is - so wanting to please, to obey and to sink down into that wanton and submissive space of hers. I love her to death!
Yet, I feel a change in the wind and possibly a new direction. Nothing about me and my submissive nature has changed at all but there is an understanding that there is nothing more to challenge. I am who I am. I function best in a particular way and my husband functions best in a particular way. We get this. We accept this. We want this. It is not that there is not more to learn and experience, because I have no doubts that there is.
Rather, I must now work on the other part of me that also lied dormant for many years. It is indisputable that I was born to be a wife and a mother. I adore my family with a very deep passion and when the time comes that I am a grandmother I will welcome those babies into my arms and my life with abundant warmth in my heart. My husband relishes the thought, always saddened that our children needed to grow up at all. How much he loved to cuddle them!
The part of me that is just me - the girl who came into the world alone - must now find the courage and the will to find her voice and to express herself - not as a wife or a mother or a submissive woman but the woman that must stand on her own two feet and do something just for herself, of which her family will be proud. It is time now for this girl to recognize herself as an autonomous person - a person in her own right who must make her mark on the world and leave behind a little piece of herself.
Of course one goal does not negate the other, nor would that be acceptable or achievable. It is not in my nature to take on something that would interfere with the fine balance of the rest of my life. But, it is quite clear that I need to try to achieve something in my own right now and my husband wants that very much as well. I need to find the confidence in myself and in my own abilities to take risks and to branch out further into life. I have taken little baby steps along that path and I know it makes me feel good to find that part of me again.
What I am trying to say is that I don't know how much reason there will be any more to write on these pages about my life. It isn't that I have gone away or that my interest has gone away but rather that I need to find new interests and ways of expressing myself that won't be relevant here. I am old enough to know that you must never say 'never' and so these pages will stay open and from time to time, no doubt there will be something to express and share. And, David and I enjoy writing about Frederick and Angus and you'll continue to find those chapters here.
This little web journal of mine is very dear to me and in my own way, I am proud of it - of peeling the onion one layer at a time until I found that which was true to me and right for me. Right now, it feels that I have reached a place and that there is nothing more to share in this semi-public space.I have been wrong before and I could be wrong again. So let's just say, that I will see you somewhere down the track.
I mentioned in the post that I was inclined to analyze and two years of writing here is testament to that! Oh boy! I mentioned that submission was a big part of my life and that is certainly still true today. I mentioned that I was "complicated" and that is now official. And, I mentioned that submission makes me happy and that what makes me happy makes for a happy husband and children. It is still pertinent and true. I am a fortunate woman to be able to say that I am much loved.
A lot of water has passed under the bridge in the past two years and I am delighted and grateful to also be able to say that I have learned much about submission and myself. It hasn't been a particularly easy period of my life but it has been rich in growth and I have had some truly extraordinary experiences and moments.
I'd be lying if I said that arousal was not a huge plus of the past two years. A few years prior to opening this web journal I came out as a spanko. The arousal began on that very first day and so I cannot attribute the writing here or the experiences of the past two years to turning on the arousal response. What I can say is that I learned to be aroused in very new and exciting ways over the past two years. Some of the most thrilling sexual experiences of my life took (and take) place in a state of complete surrender. Those states satiate my deepest longings; renew and enrich me in ways I had not thought imaginable.
I will always be grateful for the training I received that enabled me to reach those highs (or lows, depending on which way you look at). It has kept me young, playful and abundantly happy with life. It is my delicious, dirty secret and I consider myself very lucky. My husband (and remember he is pure Aussie and speaks from the heart and the gut at the one moment) has always maintained that you can tell when a woman has been well fucked. Many is the time when he tells me I "glow" and certainly in the hours after I have been "used" and even objectified, I feel an electric charge and a lightness of being that must surely be a good thing.
A lot of the work of the past two years has gone into my mindset. Given my husband's personality and mine, I have needed to come to terms with the fact that he's the boss not just in the bedroom but he's the boss of the family and of me, in all areas really. I needed to learn all sorts of things about that. I needed to learn to ask for what I need. I needed to learn to accept him for exactly who he is and not try to change him. I needed to learn to talk to him in a way where he listened and took in what I wanted to say.
I needed to learn to accept that when he decided to do things in his own way, I could be at peace with that and have faith that things would work out satisfactorily in the end. I belong to him and he belongs to me. We play different roles and have different responsibilities but we are two parts of a whole and a very intact, deeply loving and caring whole at that. I feel very at peace with all this now. I feel that our future is bright and I know we go forward in good order, completely united and have much to look forward to.
I've accepted myself as the introverted soul that I am. Enjoying the company of many different kinds of people, afterwards I look to go home and seek out my own company; to charge my batteries and reflect; always reflecting. I have learned that I must find ways to switch off my brain from the thoughts that so often race there and I now have a regular routine of walking with the dogs; yoga; pilates and being very still; a sort of meditation, though I have so much yet to learn about that. I seek a balance with the world and within myself that can only be mine when I embrace a still mind.
Objectification was an enormous part of stilling my mind and completely successful. I don't expect anyone to understand that any more than I expect anyone to fully understand anything that they have not experienced. I was only 'It' a handful of times but this was an 'out of body' experience for me and one I would not have missed for the world. I am eternally grateful to have had those opportunities.
I've loved embracing my 'dolli' state. I love dressing up and always have and the idea that I pay attention to my dress, my makeup, my nails and so on was like giving me a piece of New York cheesecake; scrumptious. Talking sweetly, minding my manners, choosing words very carefully and even removing words from my vocabulary were amazing experiences for me and I have relished them. The need to return to that cindi state often overwhelms me; what a happy little camper she is - so wanting to please, to obey and to sink down into that wanton and submissive space of hers. I love her to death!
Yet, I feel a change in the wind and possibly a new direction. Nothing about me and my submissive nature has changed at all but there is an understanding that there is nothing more to challenge. I am who I am. I function best in a particular way and my husband functions best in a particular way. We get this. We accept this. We want this. It is not that there is not more to learn and experience, because I have no doubts that there is.
Rather, I must now work on the other part of me that also lied dormant for many years. It is indisputable that I was born to be a wife and a mother. I adore my family with a very deep passion and when the time comes that I am a grandmother I will welcome those babies into my arms and my life with abundant warmth in my heart. My husband relishes the thought, always saddened that our children needed to grow up at all. How much he loved to cuddle them!
The part of me that is just me - the girl who came into the world alone - must now find the courage and the will to find her voice and to express herself - not as a wife or a mother or a submissive woman but the woman that must stand on her own two feet and do something just for herself, of which her family will be proud. It is time now for this girl to recognize herself as an autonomous person - a person in her own right who must make her mark on the world and leave behind a little piece of herself.
Of course one goal does not negate the other, nor would that be acceptable or achievable. It is not in my nature to take on something that would interfere with the fine balance of the rest of my life. But, it is quite clear that I need to try to achieve something in my own right now and my husband wants that very much as well. I need to find the confidence in myself and in my own abilities to take risks and to branch out further into life. I have taken little baby steps along that path and I know it makes me feel good to find that part of me again.
What I am trying to say is that I don't know how much reason there will be any more to write on these pages about my life. It isn't that I have gone away or that my interest has gone away but rather that I need to find new interests and ways of expressing myself that won't be relevant here. I am old enough to know that you must never say 'never' and so these pages will stay open and from time to time, no doubt there will be something to express and share. And, David and I enjoy writing about Frederick and Angus and you'll continue to find those chapters here.
This little web journal of mine is very dear to me and in my own way, I am proud of it - of peeling the onion one layer at a time until I found that which was true to me and right for me. Right now, it feels that I have reached a place and that there is nothing more to share in this semi-public space.I have been wrong before and I could be wrong again. So let's just say, that I will see you somewhere down the track.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Strength
In the past several days I have answered a myriad of questionnaires about myself in the interests of having my lovely psychologist understand me. In the second session today, she waded through all the answered questionnaires I brought along at her request and this led to further questions. She concluded the session by noting that I was more complex than she had originally thought.
I laughed. It most certainly isn’t the first time in my life that I have been called “complex” or “complicated” but she assured me that she loved complex and found me “interesting”. Quite honestly, if she were not my psychologist we could be great friends. She dresses in an incredibly exotic way in long, flowy dresses, bright colours and Indian style silver jewellery. She has acrylic nails painted bright red and all in all she strikes me as wonderfully colourful and complex herself.
Some matters were, however, already crystal clear in her mind. It was my nature to be demur ever since I was a wee small girl. I exhibited “self sacrificing” qualities and put other’s needs ahead of my own. She saw all that quite clearly, she said.
An important matter that she needed an answer to was what I hoped to gain from our time together and I told her that I was currently in a transitional stage of my life. A nurturer by nature, my family needed less of me. Sure, there was still plenty to do but I wasn’t run off my feet any longer and the time had come when I had the opportunity to achieve some things just for me.
I hoped to come out of the sessions feeling comfortable with doing some things just for myself; not backing down from my own desires the first time I smelled my husband’s ambivalence or the first time it appeared that my choices might in any way cramp the style of other people in my life, or the first time I lost my nerve.
I told her, for example, that I was disappointed that I wasn’t going to be visiting my daughter in the UK shortly as previously planned. When my husband had not encouraged me in my plans to do so on my own, neither giving his blessing nor saying “no”, I had simply backed away from the plan altogether.
“I want to help you to be harder on yourself in those situations from now on. If it is something that you really want, then there are ways to make it happen. But, what hurdles do we have to get over? Would you feel guilty to get your own way?”
I confess I would. If something does not come to me openly and from the heart, I don’t want it. But, perhaps that is the kind of thinking that I must change; pushing forward to express what I want and how important something is to me.
Submissive women are very inclined to be compassionate, or so it seems to me. It is our nature or mine anyway, to be forgiving; to accept that we are all flawed in some way, that we make mistakes and that sometimes we are hurt unwittingly. We are givers, not takers and we want to please. We want our loved ones to be happy and we feel a strong bond to those special people in our lives. When we make mistakes ourselves we want to mend that net; to give our heartfelt apology and reunite.
Without going into details, take it from me that I have gone the extra mile many times to see things from other’s points of view and to accept what is really unacceptable. Only once or twice have I drawn the line with someone else’s behaviour towards me – completely unacceptable and unforgivable, even to me.
There have been moments when my husband has hurt me and he has asked me to explore his motives. Had he meant to hurt me? No, he certainly had not. But, what if someone acted towards me in a very hurtful way in full knowledge that his or her behaviour would hurt me deeply? What if the behaviour could be interpreted as callous or selfish? What if the behaviour broke the seal of trust between us?
It is my strongest inclination to want to forgive and to demonstrate my compassion by accepting behaviour that in most peoples’ eyes is unforgivable. It is much more comfortable for me to do so. To not do this would leave me feeling for the rest of my life that if I could have bent just a little more, I might have saved something that was very precious. Trees do topple over in fierce winds but not the strongest trees. They hold firm against the vagaries of nature.
As I contemplate my natural inclinations, I pause to wonder. Perhaps, I have not been weak at all but too strong for my own good.
I laughed. It most certainly isn’t the first time in my life that I have been called “complex” or “complicated” but she assured me that she loved complex and found me “interesting”. Quite honestly, if she were not my psychologist we could be great friends. She dresses in an incredibly exotic way in long, flowy dresses, bright colours and Indian style silver jewellery. She has acrylic nails painted bright red and all in all she strikes me as wonderfully colourful and complex herself.
Some matters were, however, already crystal clear in her mind. It was my nature to be demur ever since I was a wee small girl. I exhibited “self sacrificing” qualities and put other’s needs ahead of my own. She saw all that quite clearly, she said.
An important matter that she needed an answer to was what I hoped to gain from our time together and I told her that I was currently in a transitional stage of my life. A nurturer by nature, my family needed less of me. Sure, there was still plenty to do but I wasn’t run off my feet any longer and the time had come when I had the opportunity to achieve some things just for me.
I hoped to come out of the sessions feeling comfortable with doing some things just for myself; not backing down from my own desires the first time I smelled my husband’s ambivalence or the first time it appeared that my choices might in any way cramp the style of other people in my life, or the first time I lost my nerve.
I told her, for example, that I was disappointed that I wasn’t going to be visiting my daughter in the UK shortly as previously planned. When my husband had not encouraged me in my plans to do so on my own, neither giving his blessing nor saying “no”, I had simply backed away from the plan altogether.
“I want to help you to be harder on yourself in those situations from now on. If it is something that you really want, then there are ways to make it happen. But, what hurdles do we have to get over? Would you feel guilty to get your own way?”
I confess I would. If something does not come to me openly and from the heart, I don’t want it. But, perhaps that is the kind of thinking that I must change; pushing forward to express what I want and how important something is to me.
Submissive women are very inclined to be compassionate, or so it seems to me. It is our nature or mine anyway, to be forgiving; to accept that we are all flawed in some way, that we make mistakes and that sometimes we are hurt unwittingly. We are givers, not takers and we want to please. We want our loved ones to be happy and we feel a strong bond to those special people in our lives. When we make mistakes ourselves we want to mend that net; to give our heartfelt apology and reunite.
Without going into details, take it from me that I have gone the extra mile many times to see things from other’s points of view and to accept what is really unacceptable. Only once or twice have I drawn the line with someone else’s behaviour towards me – completely unacceptable and unforgivable, even to me.
There have been moments when my husband has hurt me and he has asked me to explore his motives. Had he meant to hurt me? No, he certainly had not. But, what if someone acted towards me in a very hurtful way in full knowledge that his or her behaviour would hurt me deeply? What if the behaviour could be interpreted as callous or selfish? What if the behaviour broke the seal of trust between us?
It is my strongest inclination to want to forgive and to demonstrate my compassion by accepting behaviour that in most peoples’ eyes is unforgivable. It is much more comfortable for me to do so. To not do this would leave me feeling for the rest of my life that if I could have bent just a little more, I might have saved something that was very precious. Trees do topple over in fierce winds but not the strongest trees. They hold firm against the vagaries of nature.
As I contemplate my natural inclinations, I pause to wonder. Perhaps, I have not been weak at all but too strong for my own good.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Cindi twitterz
I'm not a huge Twitter fan really but I signed the doll up to Twitter and gave it a test run some time ago. In the past few days, it occurred to me what a lovely vehicle for cindi that it is. Whilst I don't find the 140 character way of communicating all that much to my taste, the doll seems to be able to say so much in 140 characters. cindi really loves Twitter.
Then, I had the brain wave that I could connect the doll's twitter account to this web journal and in this way, give the doll a greater voice. Voila!
With so much distance between my husband and I still and for the forseeable future, I am thoroughly enjoying this added opportunity to connect with my inner doll each day. Her account is very pink. But, I imagine that is not much of a surprise. Some of the things she says are a bit silly and a bit ditzy but that's the way she is. Perhaps, she will grow on you.
Then, I had the brain wave that I could connect the doll's twitter account to this web journal and in this way, give the doll a greater voice. Voila!
With so much distance between my husband and I still and for the forseeable future, I am thoroughly enjoying this added opportunity to connect with my inner doll each day. Her account is very pink. But, I imagine that is not much of a surprise. Some of the things she says are a bit silly and a bit ditzy but that's the way she is. Perhaps, she will grow on you.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
As time goes by
It is now two weeks since I’ve seen my husband and telephone conversations have mainly related to him telling me the state of play with his affairs. I’ve tried hard to remain supportive, not to be needy and to assure him all is well at home. But, last night I think I let my guard drop for a moment or two there because he said, “Ohhh, you really need it, don’t you?”
He was right. The desire to feel some tangible control in my life washes over me like a wave. With no foreseeable end to this situation, I can feel like I am being starved for a vital component; as important to me as the air I breathe.
Distraction is a critical strategy for me and when we said goodbye I busied myself with making a salad and ordering the Friday night pizza for us: the boys, a girlfriend and me. If I’m not careful I can end up watching a Kung Fu movie so when they looked like they were settling into some crap movie I told them that it was my turn to choose – to choose anything but that! With a glass of pleasant pinot noir in hand I surveyed the television menu and when I saw that ‘The Secretary’ had just begun, I spoke up. “I want that one!”
It was better than ever; much better than the first time I saw it (and the time after that) because this time it was feeding me at a time when I was positively starving. I drank in every line. I had forgotten how hungry Lee was too; how exasperated she was when he wouldn’t play with her any more.
“Finally!” she whispers to herself when she feels him engage once more after she sends him the worm in an envelope. Even my young son laughed when he circled the worm over and over with his red pen. I used to purposely draw a mark on my boss's blotting paper of his writing pad but let's not go there.
I thought as I watched it again after several years since first seeing it, how authentic Lee is. The words she spoke and the way she spoke them as she took her first walk home struck me as just the words any one of us (submissives) might use.
“Because he had given me permission...”
“I felt he was with me...”
It is exactly how I have felt so many times before.
The very first time I saw ‘The Secretary’ it freaked me out. I felt that someone must have been watching me live my life. How could someone know all these things that had happened to me? It took a while to realize that it was merely a co-incidence.
At my interview for a secretarial position, I was told the exact same things that Mr. Grey tells Lee: that I was overqualified, that he only needed someone with good English to type and answer the phones; that I would be bored. I answered as she did.
I got the ‘answering the telephone’ lesson just like Lee. I had to be assertive and I had to use a bigger voice, just like her. And, like Lee I had to buy new clothes. I was given a clothing allowance and given specifications as to how to use it. My Mr. Grey didn’t have a red pen but he did circle spelling mistakes and I did get told off when he found them. And, he did occasionally say that it was a “good letter” if he had told me off badly enough about finding a mistake and made me type it again. Like Lee, I used a typewriter and not a computer.
He had a habit of standing behind me as I typed just as Mr. Grey tended to do to Lee on occasion and like Mr. Grey he vacillated between being dictatorial and obsessive and tender and sweet.
For Mr. Grey, snorting (or was it snivelling?) was Lee’s crime but in my case it was sneezing. Something at the time was making me sneeze repeatedly and although he knew on a logical level that I couldn’t help it, it still offended him. If I felt it coming on, I would dash into another room where I hoped he wouldn’t hear me.
He didn’t call me at home to eat a scoop of mashed potatoes, three peas and all the ice cream I wanted but he insisted that I eat more vegetables since he accredited the sneezing and my (naturally) pale skin to inadequate vegetables. To ensure this was carried out, he had a habit of passing by my house on the way home from his holiday house on a Sunday evening and leaving me a box of vegetables fresh from his garden.
When he took me to lunch he put an end to my ordering fish and ordered me a steak instead. I was skinny back then and he would tell the waiter to bring his secretary a good steak and plenty of vegetables. It bothered him that I didn’t order dessert because he did and so the compromise was that I eat fruit salad.
Oh dear! I could go and on and on.
I suppose I should have felt better after seeing the movie but the truth is that now I wanted something more than I had before and there was no way to get it. I ran a bath and sat there listening to the water run (one of my habits) feeling a bit sorry for myself when I suddenly had an idea: Fetlife! Maybe the doll could have her own account on Fetlife and somebody would like to talk to the doll. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?!
I got the laptop and quick as a wink I signed the dolli up. And, waited. And, waited. It seems that nobody was waiting at the other end. Not quite as easy as the doll thought...
So, I signed up for some groups and thought to get some sustenance from a discussion thread about the kind of thing submissives like to hear their Dominants say, or the things they like to say to provoke them to say the things they want to hear:
“You call THAT a spanking?”
“Time to inspect the bruises”
“Can’t get away, can you?”
“I’m going to play with my toy”
This wasn’t helping at all! I didn’t want to just read about these things tonight. I wanted someone to say them to me! And, I still do...if anyone happens to be taking notes.
He was right. The desire to feel some tangible control in my life washes over me like a wave. With no foreseeable end to this situation, I can feel like I am being starved for a vital component; as important to me as the air I breathe.
Distraction is a critical strategy for me and when we said goodbye I busied myself with making a salad and ordering the Friday night pizza for us: the boys, a girlfriend and me. If I’m not careful I can end up watching a Kung Fu movie so when they looked like they were settling into some crap movie I told them that it was my turn to choose – to choose anything but that! With a glass of pleasant pinot noir in hand I surveyed the television menu and when I saw that ‘The Secretary’ had just begun, I spoke up. “I want that one!”
It was better than ever; much better than the first time I saw it (and the time after that) because this time it was feeding me at a time when I was positively starving. I drank in every line. I had forgotten how hungry Lee was too; how exasperated she was when he wouldn’t play with her any more.
“Finally!” she whispers to herself when she feels him engage once more after she sends him the worm in an envelope. Even my young son laughed when he circled the worm over and over with his red pen. I used to purposely draw a mark on my boss's blotting paper of his writing pad but let's not go there.
I thought as I watched it again after several years since first seeing it, how authentic Lee is. The words she spoke and the way she spoke them as she took her first walk home struck me as just the words any one of us (submissives) might use.
“Because he had given me permission...”
“I felt he was with me...”
It is exactly how I have felt so many times before.
The very first time I saw ‘The Secretary’ it freaked me out. I felt that someone must have been watching me live my life. How could someone know all these things that had happened to me? It took a while to realize that it was merely a co-incidence.
At my interview for a secretarial position, I was told the exact same things that Mr. Grey tells Lee: that I was overqualified, that he only needed someone with good English to type and answer the phones; that I would be bored. I answered as she did.
I got the ‘answering the telephone’ lesson just like Lee. I had to be assertive and I had to use a bigger voice, just like her. And, like Lee I had to buy new clothes. I was given a clothing allowance and given specifications as to how to use it. My Mr. Grey didn’t have a red pen but he did circle spelling mistakes and I did get told off when he found them. And, he did occasionally say that it was a “good letter” if he had told me off badly enough about finding a mistake and made me type it again. Like Lee, I used a typewriter and not a computer.
He had a habit of standing behind me as I typed just as Mr. Grey tended to do to Lee on occasion and like Mr. Grey he vacillated between being dictatorial and obsessive and tender and sweet.
For Mr. Grey, snorting (or was it snivelling?) was Lee’s crime but in my case it was sneezing. Something at the time was making me sneeze repeatedly and although he knew on a logical level that I couldn’t help it, it still offended him. If I felt it coming on, I would dash into another room where I hoped he wouldn’t hear me.
He didn’t call me at home to eat a scoop of mashed potatoes, three peas and all the ice cream I wanted but he insisted that I eat more vegetables since he accredited the sneezing and my (naturally) pale skin to inadequate vegetables. To ensure this was carried out, he had a habit of passing by my house on the way home from his holiday house on a Sunday evening and leaving me a box of vegetables fresh from his garden.
When he took me to lunch he put an end to my ordering fish and ordered me a steak instead. I was skinny back then and he would tell the waiter to bring his secretary a good steak and plenty of vegetables. It bothered him that I didn’t order dessert because he did and so the compromise was that I eat fruit salad.
Oh dear! I could go and on and on.
I suppose I should have felt better after seeing the movie but the truth is that now I wanted something more than I had before and there was no way to get it. I ran a bath and sat there listening to the water run (one of my habits) feeling a bit sorry for myself when I suddenly had an idea: Fetlife! Maybe the doll could have her own account on Fetlife and somebody would like to talk to the doll. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?!
I got the laptop and quick as a wink I signed the dolli up. And, waited. And, waited. It seems that nobody was waiting at the other end. Not quite as easy as the doll thought...
So, I signed up for some groups and thought to get some sustenance from a discussion thread about the kind of thing submissives like to hear their Dominants say, or the things they like to say to provoke them to say the things they want to hear:
“You call THAT a spanking?”
“Time to inspect the bruises”
“Can’t get away, can you?”
“I’m going to play with my toy”
This wasn’t helping at all! I didn’t want to just read about these things tonight. I wanted someone to say them to me! And, I still do...if anyone happens to be taking notes.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Back to bimbo business
I mentioned recently that I made the rather bold decision (for me) to seek out the advice of a psychologist. My general doctor had a particular woman in mind; one with a doctorate in clinical psychology and it took some weeks to actually be able to sit down with her.
I got the impression that I was not a typical patient. I handed her notes in dot point form detailing my history, the facts of the matter and I finished the two page document with two goals for myself. It seems that is not the sort of thing she gets everyday but I felt it gave us an agenda so to speak and in the hour we spent together we covered a lot of ground and she found them very helpful.
The time went fast as she asked me question after question. Eventually she said that we needed to wrap up the session shortly and that she felt that three or four more sessions would enable us to deal with my first goal perfectly satisfactorily. I had explained that I had been experiencing what I called ‘flight or fight responses’ to what my husband was telling me lately (that related to a particularly ugly situation in business that put us under lots of stress). Another way of putting it would be mild panic attacks. I didn’t have all the symptoms of a ‘panic attack’ but it was darn close. She noted that I was almost there by myself; that I had negative thoughts but that I was able to “talk back to them” and she had some strategies for me to hone down that skill.
However she explained that my second goal was not really something that she felt she could assist me with. I had written, “I look for better ways to communicate/negotiate with my husband going forward”. She told me that from all I had said that my husband had a certain “style” and that he was definitely not going to change and that it was unrealistic of me to expect him to change.
Furthermore, she said that on at least two occasions I had made remarks that intimated that I didn’t want to be deeply involved with his business matters and that really what I wanted was just that he handle those matters himself. What she could do, she said, was give me some “coping skills” but that I needed to make my peace with the situation; that he was in control and I needed to cede control.
To make it clear I gave her adequate information to understand our personalities, our natures and our dynamic. I referred to his “dominant nature” and I explained that I was inclined to retreat to a “submissive bubble”. I noted that there was an agreed power exchange. It was made clear that I had no difficulty in reaching my “little girl within”, that I had abundant capacity for joy and that the love and the sexual attraction was very much intact. In a nutshell, she came to a conclusion that it was up to me to accept that I had no control other to accept that I had no control; to embrace it.
I cannot put into words what a huge relief this news was to me. Here was a particularly bright and learned girl in psychology who had made the assessment fast that she was sitting in front of a woman who was going through a crisis of the fitness of accepting her place as the bottom. If I merely relaxed and accepted that my place was ‘the bottom’ of the relationship and that it was perfectly okay to do so, everything would fall into place.
I could feel the tension leave my body the moments the words were out of her mouth. This was joyous news to my troubled mind and immediately and for the entire day, my mood was elevated. I felt myself returning to my pre-crisis state of mind.
That night, I had a burning desire to share this experience with my mentor and I said that the girl had agreed with what he had said all along. We talked about “embracing” the lack of control; that an owner will listen but will ultimately be responsible for making a decision; that cindi (as opposed to the doubting girl) really does look to remain in a peaceful place wherever possible. We talked about the fact that my “owner” doesn’t look to change cindi. He embraces cindi and all he asks is that I embrace him as the “owner”.
My anal training is one way that I feel controlled; an important way of letting go of any control. I am challenged with bigger plugs and if I do as expected, I feel that control on a regular basis and process that control in very positive ways (physically and emotionally). If I don’t do as expected then I am trying to take control of the plug which is seen as taking control of the relationship.
It felt empowering to do as directed; to accept the challenge; to know my place and my role; to reconnect. There are times when I have to beg to have the thing that he wants me to have. As odd as that sounds to some ears, it’s a wonderfully humbling feeling and an immensely elevating and emboldening feeling as well. Only a person with a truly submissive nature can understand the magic of it.
If I don’t comply and if I try to take control by not complying, I feel disconnected and that sense of a disconnection leaves me feeling much less. If I accept the challenges given to me, I feel a strong connection but I might wonder if I will be able to comply, for example, all through the night. What I am asked to do isn’t easy! I was encouraged to ‘let go’; to remove such questions from my mind; to just exist; to let Mr. Ringo take control; to not think at all; to turn more ‘bimbo’.
I understand that for some people who read here, the word ‘bimbo’ is not one of which they approve. For us, it signifies that letting go state; that just existing state; that non-thinking state; that peaceful, compliant and joyous state. At times, I am more than bimbo. On the odd occasion, I am merely ‘it’. Whilst that sounds something very small, to me they are experiences of the highest order; those times when I reach bliss.
Whilst I understand that being submissive is a continuous path with no specific end, to receive professional confirmation that I am doing the right thing meant a very great deal to me; the opportunity to feel that I have reached a certain place of peace in my mind with all that has taken place. Cindi is more me than Vesta. That is the bottom line. At the core of me and within my heart lives cindi; the doll that is happy, joyous, playful, wanting to please, to be lead and controlled. Cindi does not want to ‘over think’ nor does she want to worry unnecessarily. She wants an owner to serve and love and to protect and love her.
The financial crisis to which I have alluded in previous posts is not yet over though it is progressing along. My husband referred to the situation in an email today as “surreal”. It beggars belief! But, the crisis in my mind is over and whilst he is not yet able to return home to us, I feel a strong connection with him and with my mentor as well. The bimbo is back to bimbo business and it feels so good.
P.S. I have taken the 'Elisabeth' story down for now. It was written before this meeting took place, is shite and I need to review it.
I got the impression that I was not a typical patient. I handed her notes in dot point form detailing my history, the facts of the matter and I finished the two page document with two goals for myself. It seems that is not the sort of thing she gets everyday but I felt it gave us an agenda so to speak and in the hour we spent together we covered a lot of ground and she found them very helpful.
The time went fast as she asked me question after question. Eventually she said that we needed to wrap up the session shortly and that she felt that three or four more sessions would enable us to deal with my first goal perfectly satisfactorily. I had explained that I had been experiencing what I called ‘flight or fight responses’ to what my husband was telling me lately (that related to a particularly ugly situation in business that put us under lots of stress). Another way of putting it would be mild panic attacks. I didn’t have all the symptoms of a ‘panic attack’ but it was darn close. She noted that I was almost there by myself; that I had negative thoughts but that I was able to “talk back to them” and she had some strategies for me to hone down that skill.
However she explained that my second goal was not really something that she felt she could assist me with. I had written, “I look for better ways to communicate/negotiate with my husband going forward”. She told me that from all I had said that my husband had a certain “style” and that he was definitely not going to change and that it was unrealistic of me to expect him to change.
Furthermore, she said that on at least two occasions I had made remarks that intimated that I didn’t want to be deeply involved with his business matters and that really what I wanted was just that he handle those matters himself. What she could do, she said, was give me some “coping skills” but that I needed to make my peace with the situation; that he was in control and I needed to cede control.
To make it clear I gave her adequate information to understand our personalities, our natures and our dynamic. I referred to his “dominant nature” and I explained that I was inclined to retreat to a “submissive bubble”. I noted that there was an agreed power exchange. It was made clear that I had no difficulty in reaching my “little girl within”, that I had abundant capacity for joy and that the love and the sexual attraction was very much intact. In a nutshell, she came to a conclusion that it was up to me to accept that I had no control other to accept that I had no control; to embrace it.
I cannot put into words what a huge relief this news was to me. Here was a particularly bright and learned girl in psychology who had made the assessment fast that she was sitting in front of a woman who was going through a crisis of the fitness of accepting her place as the bottom. If I merely relaxed and accepted that my place was ‘the bottom’ of the relationship and that it was perfectly okay to do so, everything would fall into place.
I could feel the tension leave my body the moments the words were out of her mouth. This was joyous news to my troubled mind and immediately and for the entire day, my mood was elevated. I felt myself returning to my pre-crisis state of mind.
That night, I had a burning desire to share this experience with my mentor and I said that the girl had agreed with what he had said all along. We talked about “embracing” the lack of control; that an owner will listen but will ultimately be responsible for making a decision; that cindi (as opposed to the doubting girl) really does look to remain in a peaceful place wherever possible. We talked about the fact that my “owner” doesn’t look to change cindi. He embraces cindi and all he asks is that I embrace him as the “owner”.
My anal training is one way that I feel controlled; an important way of letting go of any control. I am challenged with bigger plugs and if I do as expected, I feel that control on a regular basis and process that control in very positive ways (physically and emotionally). If I don’t do as expected then I am trying to take control of the plug which is seen as taking control of the relationship.
It felt empowering to do as directed; to accept the challenge; to know my place and my role; to reconnect. There are times when I have to beg to have the thing that he wants me to have. As odd as that sounds to some ears, it’s a wonderfully humbling feeling and an immensely elevating and emboldening feeling as well. Only a person with a truly submissive nature can understand the magic of it.
If I don’t comply and if I try to take control by not complying, I feel disconnected and that sense of a disconnection leaves me feeling much less. If I accept the challenges given to me, I feel a strong connection but I might wonder if I will be able to comply, for example, all through the night. What I am asked to do isn’t easy! I was encouraged to ‘let go’; to remove such questions from my mind; to just exist; to let Mr. Ringo take control; to not think at all; to turn more ‘bimbo’.
I understand that for some people who read here, the word ‘bimbo’ is not one of which they approve. For us, it signifies that letting go state; that just existing state; that non-thinking state; that peaceful, compliant and joyous state. At times, I am more than bimbo. On the odd occasion, I am merely ‘it’. Whilst that sounds something very small, to me they are experiences of the highest order; those times when I reach bliss.
Whilst I understand that being submissive is a continuous path with no specific end, to receive professional confirmation that I am doing the right thing meant a very great deal to me; the opportunity to feel that I have reached a certain place of peace in my mind with all that has taken place. Cindi is more me than Vesta. That is the bottom line. At the core of me and within my heart lives cindi; the doll that is happy, joyous, playful, wanting to please, to be lead and controlled. Cindi does not want to ‘over think’ nor does she want to worry unnecessarily. She wants an owner to serve and love and to protect and love her.
The financial crisis to which I have alluded in previous posts is not yet over though it is progressing along. My husband referred to the situation in an email today as “surreal”. It beggars belief! But, the crisis in my mind is over and whilst he is not yet able to return home to us, I feel a strong connection with him and with my mentor as well. The bimbo is back to bimbo business and it feels so good.
P.S. I have taken the 'Elisabeth' story down for now. It was written before this meeting took place, is shite and I need to review it.
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