Torn

I think (I certainly hope) that I have thanked all those very kind folk who have answered my questions for the article I must write. I am grateful to you all and also very humbled that you allowed me access into your lives. Reading the responses I have been moved to tears; choked up at some of the words you have used. "Are you proud of her?" I asked the dominants.

"Very very"
"Incredibly"

The love and pride and admiration were evident and each time I glowed that I have come to know such generous and giving souls. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Over the past two days I have also been moved at the generosity of experts of relationships with whom I have been in contact. Probably the most well known sex therapist researcher in the country was very generous with her material and contacts and an expert of BDSM in relationships was overwhelmingly kind in his efforts to assist me. I'm just a l'il student. I can't really give them any publicity of any sort, so these were acts of kindness and I felt moved by them.

It is wonderful on one level to have the opportunity to use my brain again. I really am enjoying and am challenged by what I am learning.

"I'm out of my comfort zone nearly all the time," I said to my husband.
"Good," he responded. "That is where you should be."

I absolutely tip my hat to you parents out there who manage to work and to cater to your family's needs and the needs of your partner. I struggle. It is the reason why I chose not to work, because I feel so conflicted some days. I so want to absorb myself in my learning but we are on school holidays here and there is no routine that can support me. The children come and go but they simply have this perception that "Mum" will be there to provide clean clothes, lovely meals, a clean home, a driver, a listening ear; a problem solver when needed, to name a few roles I have.

Just when I think the coast is clear to attend to my own needs the phone rings, or someone comes home, or I have to rush out to the market to get more fruits and vegetables or...something...

My husband doesn't care for when I leave his bed at dawn to go read and write and I don't function well late at night. And, during the days my house is busy; chaotic even...

So, I do what I can, when I can, in the best way that I can, and I hope for the best.

Interestingly, whilst all this buzz whirls about me, I feel a stirring for controlling and containing strategies that I haven't really embraced over the past few months. I wrote about it just  now in another capacity and I was full of plans to do this and that. Fun. Fun. Fun.

And, it suddenly, haphazardly and serendipitiously occurred to me that those sort of indulgences actually require consent. Well, usually they do. It's complicated. Asking for those things it is hoped I desperately want, usually require consent. Am I getting ahead of myself here?

But, after frustration must come relief, right? Whose going to deny the l'il doll that??!