Resting place

Every now and again, i have a look at the statistics for this blog and it never ceases to surprise me that several hundred people make their way here each week. i'm not sure how they get here but more and more it relates to Google search words, i think; random events.

it occurred to me to put up an update here - not reigniting the web journal at all, just randomly visiting myself. Whether i ever visit again is something i can't say. It's not at all an easing back into 'girl' mode, into the intellectual space of inquiring mind or teasing through my thoughts to make sense of my thoughts. i've done more than enough of that. i really do know my mind very well now. No, this is simply a statement about me; time with myself after considerable private writing and much reading.

What prompted this little moment of sharing here? Well, lately i've been one of The Book Depository's very good clients and in my parcel yesterday was The Diary of a Submissive by Sophie Morgan. The world just isn't at all fair because it is so much more arousing than Fifty of Shades of Grey; so much more revealing of why we do what we do; or perhaps i should say, how i think as i think.

James, the boyfriend, is all i could ever want. Testing, teasing, disciplining, exacting, kind, loving, sadistic, concerned about his sadism... He's the full package and provides the sort of full time dynamic i can only wish for in my dreams. He's unpredictable and he conditions her to his own specifications - to take his words very seriously, to do as he says, exactly as he says. When he pulls away, she is terribly sad. He's worried that as his feelings for her deepen into love he can't dominate her and she is worried that as her feelings deepen into love he won't dominate her. So much guilt. So much worry. So much angst.

In fact 'Sophie', a bright journalist, learns very fast what she wants. Well, i did, too. i learned decades ago that I am turned on by certain words, certain thoughts, certain images and feeling a particular way. I crave to be dominated every day of my life. My intellectual 'girl' brain seems to operate all right if you look at my scores and comments from tutors and professors, but it is getting harder for me to remain in that mindset.  It's exhausting, really.

i adore to feel completely dolli; bimbo, fucktoy, it, a dirti hol. I answer to all these words. I can go down the rabbit hole with no more than a few words of introduction. It's an enormous relief to feel completely under someone's control - to be even a little frightened. More than that. I luxuriate in a state of fear. Totally trusting is the bimbo. That's very well established. So, pushing me, jarring me, confusing my brain with disparate thoughts that remind me of how deeply i can be contained; how trapped i am in the dominant's control is interpreted as a feeding of my soul; intensifies the lust, throws me against the wall and insists that i support my own demise, ever further down; ever more bound to my own lustful longings.

i go about my life. Of course i do. My creative inspiration is flowing fast at the same time as English words aren't particularly easy for me. It's hard, if you haven't seen it before, to imagine how dumdum the bimbo truly is. bimbocindi is an airhead; completely dependent on someone special to take care of her; to ensure she cum to no harm. Bimbos can't take care of themselves. Of this, i am sure, although the training of the dumdum mind edges towards it; to the bimbo demonstrating  self care regardless of the circumstances of it's life. It's not in the least ideal but anything less is self harm; irresponsible.

My submissive nature and my very natural desire to have a dominant in my life, to love me and take care of me and to dominate me, as part of that love and care, comes from deep within me. Alweyz bimbo. Alweyz. My sexuality is part of my spirituality and i'm never more happy than in those moments when i may let the bmbmo looose 2 shine, 2 revel in her own demise.

Along the way, i've learned to meditate, to quieten the mind, to find the peace within myself. i had a brief exchange with Lazi Yogi recently on tumblr which was almost an out of body experience: The peace is within you. i took that message deep inside me as if it were a direct communication from God. i no longer have to wearily search; to trek any further in this journey. i could be my own best friend. i could, in times of angst, in intense frustration of not being controlled, find my own peace within myself. The peace is within me. Alweyz bimbo. Bimbo plezir ting.

Was i meant to be with a loving dominant; someone who could take care of my needs? Of course. Life didn't work out exactly like that. My husband is willing, in his own way, to provide me sustenance for my soul. One day it might be more. When his head is not filled with the complicated and intense nuances of business, i am quietly optimistic it will be more. Truly,  i can't write here now because 'the girl' barely exists. She comes and sits and does her academic work - forces herself to her higher order thinking and then grateful it is over for the day returns to bimboland, to a place of comfort and a place that works for it; to a place where it can feel whole (hol!) and at peace.

i'm not entirely sure why God planned it this way, to challenge me in this way; to come to know what i am, and what I need in this way but for the complete package to be denied me. But, i believe there was and is a reason and that through this emotional torment that i have endured, one day the reason and the benefits will be explained. One day i will understand; completely accept.

Meanwhile, i'm eternally grateful for what i have and have been given. The opportunity to know myself and to revel in power exchange experiences is one of the greatest gifts of my life.

May you find your own peace.