Me

Could I be clearer in the way I express myself? Is there something about the way I express myself open to interpretation? I don't have a flowery or poetic way of writing sentences, so I just don't understand how I could be misunderstood. 

Here's the deal:

- I am a one-man woman. I have always been so. My lifelong fantasy which I wished to make my reality was to be loved by ONE man and for me to love him.

- I am not into and wish for myself NO swingers parties, NO group sex with men or women. 

- By this definition, I am NOT a SLAVE. If an Owner asked me to do these things, I would try, but it would be so against the natural order of my brain and soul that I think I would ultimately be forced to leave the union.

- I am a conventional, old-fashioned sort of gal. I just want MY man all to myself. I want to be in a D/s dynamic with him. I want to know to the core of my being, regularly, minute by minute, that I am HIS and he is MINE.

- I am happy to work hard. Hard work never bothered me, and I actually like it because I just like getting stuff done, transforming spaces, making the world a little bit better in all sorts of ways.

- But, I need play time; time to see the world; enough financial security for both of us to feel free. I am happy to work hard to achieve this; happy to play my part.

I have held down my deep and profound dismay of suggestions that I would find myself at a swingers party with my owner holding my leash whilst I licked some unknown man's anus. No judgment here; each to his own, and that includes me. That's not me.

Tell me, if you have read a smidgeon of my words here, does that sound like me?

I thought not.

Polarity

 If you are a woman with a submissive nature, and you want to be led by a man, that is, for there to be a leader in the relationship, that man is going to require certain characteristics. In all likelihood the man will need to grow; to hone his dominant nature and to overcome any residual trauma from his childhood as well as societal messaging.

Let's assume that the woman is intelligent and well educated, and most probably perfectly capable of looking after herself. By that I mean she has the education and the necessary skills to get through her days quite satisfactorily whether she is led or not. But she chooses and desires a dominant man to lead her. For her to express her submissive nature she needs a man who is capable and willing to express his dominant nature; for there to be polarity. This man is going to be required to be evolved, mature, stalwart, calm and steady. 

We are judgmental about our leaders because no-one wants to be led by a fool. We analyze their behaviour and their decisions and as a whole we don't hold back from criticism when we disapprove.

I had a talk with someone over Christmas when I got a rare opportunity for a one-on-one conversation and I explained to him that, although it was clear his wife's behaviour was certainly triggering and sometimes quite unacceptable, he couldn't afford to give her back the same sort of behaviour she gave to him. As difficult as it no doubt could be, he needed to be that calm and committed presence in her life who was determining the standards of behaviour. 

'No, he couldn't mind the child this evening as he still had essential business calls he had to make, but he was happy to mind him on Saturday morning whilst she went to do whatever it was she wanted to do.'

Statements. No anger. No throwing words back at her. Just declarative statements. Compromise, but not giving in.

When she tried to make him responsible for something that was indeed her responsibility, he needed to note to her that she was capable of sorting this situation herself. He didn't need to be involved.

He was running around, I explained to him, trying to sort her problems, because he was capable of that, but he was training her to be dependent on him by doing so and getting angry about that at the same time.

There's no shortage of love either way and so he said to me, yet again, that the violence in her childhood home had created this scenario. He was justifying her behaviour. I understood that, I explained, but people can't spend their lives in disarray because something happened thirty years ago. He deserved peace, for one thing, and once the new training period was over, they would both be happier.

To his credit, he listened. He truly wanted it to be better, to be calm and for there to be harmony, but he had been triggered for several years by her demands and he sensed it wouldn't be easy to not be triggered again.

'Of course,' I assured him. It will take time and you will make mistakes. But you have to keep working your way towards being that man who was something like a well-built brick wall; solid and dependable; indestructible.

'She'll note the difference and won't understand it. You'll get a whole lot of stuff around how she is an 'independent woman' yadda yadda. Just stay the course. Trust me.'

Dominant men, the ones who hone their craft and character, do not get enough credit. I heard a brave man say in a podcast recently that a man has to be better than his woman in all the criteria that counted. He needed to contain her, and by that he meant he had to hold her in her hour of need. She needed to look up to him and he needed to protect her and hold her accountable to him. If she wants to be led, that's the way it works.

This reminds me somewhat of meditation advice - to let go of doing and sink into being. In the same way, I wonder if we should not let go of society's messaging and just be our authentic selves; strive to be our best selves.

Aspirational Statement

 It's quite lovely the efforts the hypnotist is making re this 'Contract', which we all agree is so poorly named. It's more a statement, an explanation, an Aspirational Statement. Yes, that seems the best description.

I decided on my 'Dealbreaker'. The hypnotist assures me it is likely, when Trust is 150% assured, that we are likely to want to have secondary partners, to get more experimental; for the Control to extend to such scenarios of which I can only imagine, although D describes them luridly while I just quietly chuckle. (There's just so way!) I assure him this won't happen, and he assures me that that's what they all say, and yet 70% of clients change their minds.

With this in mind my Dealbreaker would be if I ever became secondary to my husband; if someone else was more desirable than me; if he loved someone more than he loved me. 

I say this because it is my strongest feeling of what I want in my life - abiding love and desire - and what I don't want - heartache - but also because I have been reading the blog of a Slave who was under the misapprehension for several years that her Owner desired other women, loved other women, more than he loved her. Before he died, he was able to assure her she always came first in his heart, but still she lived with that heartache for several years, and I definitely want no part of that scenario.

The hypnotist's strongest advice is to write down 'preferences' and not 'Rules', but my husband is disagreeing at this point. D believes that if it is a Rule, there's a punishment, each and every time for the breaking of a rule, for the rest of our lives. Hence, call them preferences, and then he make an assessment that has more flexibility, more give and take. They are working it out.

I have made a lot more suggestions - plenty of them now and they will be written down for appraisal and potential adjustment. We have committed, that is, given our pledge of honor, to D/s forever, so it has to be right. It has to signify our aspirations just so. It has to be a thing of beauty; a thing we build together.

Our relationship already feels a 1000% better than anything that ever went before it. I feel so much more myself and he does too. It's feeling quite quite wonderful. It goes like this - no matter in which era I live - in ancient times or in modern times - I am living out my nature, my true and authentic self - and growing. I am growing as a woman and that feels right.

Authenticity

 To attend a dharma group is one of life's most lovely activities. It's quite possible, should you attend, you wouldn't say a word, simply listen. You might feel compelled to say something and if you did it would be words from deep inside you. Nothing else seems vaguely right in that setting, trust me.

This isn't a place to talk about how lovely the weather has been lately, not in that chatty way we do,  sometimes to avoid saying anything deeper. We might talk about the weather, as in, 'I felt the breeze on my face as I was walking in the park this afternoon, and it felt so good to be alive in this moment'. There are lots of times in dharma group where people want to share their gratitude for life.

As well, there are moments where people choose to share their deepest fears. I am not sure that I have shared this before. One day, a woman, a brave woman, shared that she wasn't sure what love felt like exactly. She was kind and had experienced kindness, but feelings of love had been elusive  for quite some time.

I did wonder how the the leader of the group would react. In spiritual circles, love is so often spoken of, as if we should have access to that emotion all the time, and if we don't, we need to meditate on that more. Even people on the street will talk about love in such throwaway terms, who has the courage to question that we should be able to access the emotion moment by moment? What sort of a person are we, we secretly ponder, if we struggle to hold on to feelings of love, in spite of circumstances?

She didn't miss a beat. Acknowledging that her views weren't popular in spiritual circles, she admitted that she too didn't always feel love towards her fellow humans. People disappointed her, and love wasn't necessarily felt. Sometimes, she offered, it is enough to offer kindness. Kindness was enough.

It was, I feel sure, a very special moment for the woman who had opened the discussion. I am not at all sure she would have received the same sort of non-judgmental, or honest answer from family, friends or strangers. 

This is what is so enticing about a dharma group! The urge to speak one's truth is encouraged. 

And, this is what I love about this anonymous blog. I feel I can speak my mind here. I was a little alarmed over the past few weeks that my stats seem to be saying that there are thousands of people that come here in a week. I don't understand it or follow it since I have used up my storage capacity, or something, but week after week, it shows that it's not just the handful of readers I had thought. Nonetheless, I feel such peace here; such acceptance; the raw expression of my authentic personality.

Sometimes, I have written to sort of save my soul; to express that which I felt could not be said; pure venting; anger, the drive for security or connection. That sort of writing does not work out so well for me. It's a form of expression but there's no real pleasure in it.

In my childhood I had lots of time on my own and what came naturally to do was to write. Simply putting words on a page was an innate pleasure. I often read a book and quite apart from the story marvel at words beautifully strung together. Douglas Stewart wrote of the poverty of Glasgow in the 1980s. As Agnes walked past a group of women he compared the huddling of women whispering as like penguins sharing thoughts.  I thought that a stroke of brilliance. Instantly, I saw the women, the way their bodies moved into the other to share snide remarks. One imagines him on a plane coming up with the paragraph, stretching perhaps to make the writing the best it could it be, but experiencing delight at the creation of the paragraph too. (A fitting Booker Prize recipient!)

In life, I get so tired of social convention, even between people wed. All that cajoling, agreeing; the quiet and gentle veneer that hides a myriad of thoughts and emotions one dare not share for fear of reprisal, judgment or rejection. Here, you get me, my authentic self; not just the violin but the whole orchestra of an internal life.

The fitness of the thing

Kinky thoughts came to me completely naturally and unprovoked as a child. I'd see a scene in a movie, or read a few lines in a novel, or overhear someone say something and I was instantly aroused. No-one else was involved in this response. That is to say, I wasn't attempting to please a partner or to follow him along a particular path. My mind was aroused by the scene and that was that.

It is said that we fantasize within very specific parameters about our kinks. If it's a school disciplining scenario we might have in our mind's eye very particular details such as the type of dress or the type of instrument; perhaps a wooden stool in involved or there is a particular cupboard where the canes are stored.

It's fascinating and troubling at the same time that these scenes never really grow old. I happened upon a school disciplining scene in the past few days - one that would be grotesque in real life, utterly barbaric - and I slipped right down the kinky rabbit hole as if I were 15 all over again. My body will never stop being instantly aroused by particular scenes, done in a particular way. That is to say, the girls have to be helpless and at the mercy of the disciplinarians, and the disciplinarians have to be ruthless in the discharging of their duties.

The girls have to cry and howl and beg at the same time that they know they must do everything possible to hold their position. The masters and mistresses have to turn a blind eye and ear to the ministrations of their charges and go about their task in a professional manner.  There is a clear demarcation of who is in charge and who has zero power and everybody in the room knows their place.

To analyze it a tad, there's complete helplessness on the part of the girls and total power in terms of the rights of the masters and mistresses to uphold the  sanctity of their contract to educate the girls to particularly high standards. Let's be clear. If the girls had behaved well, none of this would have been necessary. Under normal circumstances those who watched over them would have kept a tight ship but not a particularly onerous one for the girls, for there is only one rule at this establishment really - to follow the rules and to do as told. Simple.

It's interesting (to me at least) that I have been prepared to follow through with this thought in other ways; ways I wouldn't have thought of as a child and which I didn't even necessarily know much about as a fully grown woman. I 'got' on some subliminal level that my kink was about 'place' and that meant that I moved quite effortlessly from having a spanking kink to a kink that related to whatever it was that I was presented with. The proviso was that I really did need to feel that the contract - obedience - was at the heart of 'it'. I really did need to feel an abiding affection was at the heart of everything too. This could make it complicated.

Nowadays there is no sense of a contract in my life. Put more bluntly, there is no contract. I'm a free agent in that sense. This means that I am not likely to experience the mind blowing highs of the past but nor, logically speaking, am I likely to experience the downs, and there were downs, for complicated reasons which not everyone has to go through.

There is, of course, always 'play'; the sort of play where a partner suggests a spanking. But, for reasons as explored above, unfortunately that doesn't do it for me. In essence, I like the idea of a contract; not the one with lists that you tick, but the sort of contract where roles are clearly designated, understood and embraced, not just for three minutes but innately. I guess what I am saying is that either it is authentic and I feel it down to my toes, or I'll see through the veneer and it will do nothing for me. Either it works for us both or I think it's best we do what we do rather well, just be ourselves.

I can almost hear you asking...but can you separate your kinky self from your self? I'm not sure I know, or ever knew the answer to that. It's sat in my being all my life; that girl who is so deeply aroused by certain situations not well understood by nearly anyone. An exchange of power with a partner such that this part of me that sits bubbling below can find expression was far more elevating and satisfying than I have ever been able to express in words. I remain forever grateful for those experiences. I'll cradle them in my old age.

But, there's a lot more to me and to my mind than kink, and somehow, maybe, just maybe, now might be the right time to fully explore if I can put it away in a box; not in some dusty box in the darkest and deepest recesses of my mind never to see light again, but far enough away that I can get on with life without pining for what I once had in the lusty May days of Camelot. There is a season for everything. I had my time and now there is a new time.

Loving, differently

Since I have had my nipples pierced it has occurred to me that my cravings for a sense of containment and of belonging relate to a physical need. If I have enough physical sensations I am automatically satisfied and satiated. That is, I can't establish adequate satisfying feelings from any particular thought alone. A positive thought begets more positive thoughts. I can manifest the thought that I do, in fact, belong, and that's a good thought. However, there is no positive thought that means that I can overcome a lack of physical sensation. The physicality is confirmation of the ownership that I feel on my skin or in my body.

But, even the above statements are 'thoughts' or 'ideas' that require some logic or explanation that goes beyond, intellectualizes, an innate and natural sense of things to which most women of a submissive mindset would relate. It's not unheard of for some very submissively inclined women to reject spankings, pain/pleasure applied to the skin, but so many of them, as far as I can tell, love/hate the physical force of a spanking, given simply because they exist or because it is a form of correction, or both.

It's not just that the event relates to the agreement between the two of you, important as that is. It's that there is something about working one's way through a spanking, the challenge of it, that induces some sort of happy hormone to flood the mind of a submissively inclined person. It's as if the body needs to get out of its comfort zone and feel a little pain. It is as if a submissive's mind and body needs pain to be felt on the skin, not just for the reminder of being alive, but to suck the juice out of life; to feel buoyant and energized.

I have to think that only a natural Dominant really understands this. To the mainstream person, pain is pain and to be avoided. I don't like pain any more than the next person, the stubbing of a toe, or a pain in the gut. Yet, the laying on of pain in a spanking, carefully managed to take me up to my pain tolerance and then a good bit beyond it, is a gift; a rare gift; too rare.

I think this is where non-kinky men with kinky wives may lose their way because to ignore or avoid their woman's craving for receiving pain is to avoid giving them the gift of pain; the gift of effervescence; of feeling at peace within themselves. There's a sizzle in the air between two people, one who wants to give pain, and one who wants/craves to receive it. Whatever challenges lie within the process, there's a sense of accomplishment and 'flying' that can't be got in any other way. I remember once being left with the feeling that I was in love with the whole world after a spanking. I wouldn't trade those feelings and sensations for anything. There's an exchange of energy worth gold to both individuals and the union of those individuals.

I know, I don't just think but I know that I would have been well matched with a man who had a kinky, dominant and sadistic mindset. The proviso is that I would have needed to know that he adored me and would protect me to the ends of this earth. Given that situation, I would have accompanied him through life providing for his demands. I would not have been with a man who wasn't somewhat patient with me, but I feel in my bones that I would have accommodated his requests, feeding me as he would his own desires such that they became my own.

Of course, I am talking about the perfect Dominant; smart, patient, sensible, challenging. Someone who enjoyed the long game; someone strict and sure of himself; someone in whom I could melt and feel safe and assured. Imagine the utter thrill of having a sensual and sexual guide through your life; thinking, planning and scheming for your mutual kinky thrills! It's the stuff of dreams. Well, my dreams, anyway.

Of course, it has long and often been chronicled here that I met my husband, whom I love very much, long before I admitted to myself and to him just how kinky I really was. I can't expect him to lead me into the land of kink when it is not the land of his dreams and thoughts. But, even if the gift of pain is a rare gift, we all get gifts sometimes and often they are well researched.  A man wouldn't buy his woman a diamond ring without gathering some information and the gift of pain is no different. Anyone can perform a spanking once the procedure has been researched, just as one researches the best way to fix a tap or to build a deck. If you want to know how to do anything, the information is there. It is hardly an impossibility for any person. But, there must be intention and commitment; an understanding of the importance of the thing.

It has been proven countless times that I like to feel some force behind the words and/or actions of the Other. I want to be surprised/overcome/not provided with a way out. I want to feel the commitment of the other, their intention; their power in the relationship; their authority. That is all it takes. From there, there are no mistakes. Who is the leader of the pack? Who calls the shots? Who has deemed it the right time to receive pain, to have my nipples pierced, my cunt pierced; a tattoo? Well, the person who loves me the most, of course. Thy will be done. When the love and the commitment are there, I don't see much to stand in the way, just as one moves country for love, or has another child for love, or forgives and forgets for love.

The one disappointment to me in being alive at this time is that I don't think that future generations will have the barriers to get through that women like me have now, and have had in the past. People now confidently explain they are gay or transgender. They cross-dress and state it. They are proud of who they are, and yet, non-kinky people can still struggle so earnestly and profoundly with the notion that their needs and desires are 'weird'. But, to love in a kinky way is still to love;  to love differently.

Of course, we all need to be our authentic selves. I respect that. Still, I live in hope that people born and brought up to be conservative in disposition can come to understand that people like me can be accommodated without breaking any laws of nature. I want to be loved like any woman, just differently.

The importance of pierced nipples, to me

What I've done in the recent past is give myself too much credit. Knowing myself well, I thought that I was capable, if only I tried hard enough to forego my sexuality, to simply park it, and in this way there would be harmony and equanimity in my life. After all, I'd managed to dig deep and find copious patience and tolerance, to put aside other dreams of mine, so why not consider me the problem, dig deeper, research more about what was wrong with me, and simply alter myself to be more in line with the sexuality of the other.

It turns out altering one's sexuality is not just a matter of putting one's mind to it. My arousal, or not, isn't something that I can fake. I can't simply decide to be a vanilla woman, someone who is not aroused by sado-masochistic stimuli. It's an enigma when one's partner's arousal isn't exactly compatible. Long before I began writing in this online journal I blamed myself for my (non-mainstream) arousal, my secret thoughts and my desires. I was the odd person out here, not him. These past months have been a return to that self-flagellation.

My dismissal of this stance occurred over several key moments in time. I was accused by someone who knows me well of "kink shaming" and I told him that it was an absurd comment and a particularly hurtful thing to say to me. But, over the next few days I began to see that he was right in the sense that I was making kinkiness out to be a major 'problem' and something unnatural. I was naturally kinky. In shaming myself by having kinks I was shaming kink. My argument and thinking was flawed in some fundamental ways.  I had got into my head that I could kick kink much as someone kicks alcohol or caffeine or sugar or drugs; by withdrawal. Let's face it. I had tried that over a couple of decades in my twenties and thirties and managed to do nothing but grow the kink.

To celebrate this new liberated view of myself I took myself to the city and had my nipples pierced, something that has been on my bucket list for a long, long time. I needed a physical manifestation and transformation; a moment by moment reminder of my true nature. I wrote a long post about the experience but decided in the end that I wanted to keep the experience close to my heart. I think it is enough to say that all elements of the experience reconfirmed for me that I am who I am, and my body now signified that in a way that is meaningful to me.

There is a big difference between dominating and being domineering with a woman. I am well aware of the difference and what makes me happy. In embracing my kinkiness I acknowledge my willingness and enjoyment to submit to the domination of my submissive, masochistic and kinky sexual nature at the same time as I recognize that domineering behaviour will always been seen for what that is. A submissive woman still has dreams and plans of her own.

If I ever have a desire to write in a way that has me rejecting a part of me that is so intrinsic to me, I will be very disappointed with myself. I'm too old for this self-flagellation and attempts at sacrifice. Whatever the circumstances of my life, I remain as I am and I've the nipple rings to prove it.

Contrived categories

I'm going through a period of time where I take nothing for granted, where I question all orthodoxies, and I quite simply observe, both myself and others. I'm not judging others, far from it. I take a 'live and let live' point of view. I'm simply being attentive to the thoughts running through my head and keeping an open mind as to my feelings; identifying my own needs and what works well for me.

If you think about narcissism as being a scale of 1-10 and healthy narcissism being somewhere in the midde - 5 - then I've been an 'echoist', operating about on a 3. Inevitably, that type of operating in the world proved to be very uncomfortable for me and it was this discomfort that led me to seek out ways to function more in the 'healthy narcissism' category, closer to the middle. I certainly didn't want to suddenly be any sort of leader but nor did I want to experience the emotional pain of feeling that I didn't have a voice.

I discovered that I had arrived in the echoist's frame of thinking through a combination of having been born with an introverts' quiet nature and to a family that encouraged me to be independent early and to leave them to do what they felt they had to do. I was encouraged to be good, quiet, to accept, to not complain and to be an academically high achieving child. I complied.

Ultimately, I found myself craving an intense sexual experience as well as the subordinate position in a personal relationship; to dance with the polar opposite of myself; a leader that was extroverted and demanding. I did everything I could to be pleasing, accepted the manipulation of my mind as part of the contract. It was uncomfortable at times, confusing and upsetting. But, I had some sort of vague sense that if I kept with the program, stayed true to the course, all would be revealed to me in good time. I didn't quite know where I was going but I was on my way and that's what mattered to me; to get somewhere where there would be some clarity concerning the purpose of this long expedition on which I was fixated.

It was something of a shock to realize that the journey had been, in so many ways, about my own self-doubts. Nearly everything that hadn't worked well in my life related to my lack of personal power. There it was in a nutshell. I needed to speak my mind, say what worked and didn't work; what I needed and could not cope with; what I believed. I needed a vote; not to cede the vote but rather for my thoughts and opinions to be sought and considered. I needed to have a voice in the matters that had a direct bearing on me. To be 'the doll' for periods of time: no problem. But, to give up the right to voice opinions; to express what I needed, something that only I could possibly know; that was something that I found impossible to give up.

I didn't need, I discovered, to be torn down or punished or crushed/broken. I needed a man to help me see my strengths as well as my weaknesses; to encourage me to see what others see when they interact with me; a confident, capable woman. I just couldn't see that woman, didn't feel that woman. I was totally lacking in self-confidence. David, my dominant friend who died a few years ago now, he saw that lack of self-confidence. That's why I miss him so. I could be my vulnerable self with David. He wasn't afraid or put off by that vulnerability. He worked with it, bless him. He was fond of me as the complete entity that I am. (As egoless as I aim to be, I don't think that you can, or should, negate the importance of those last two words - I am.)

I'm talking now, talking the legs off the iron pot. I'm explaining my discoveries to my husband daily and he's listening to me simply because he can see that this is so very, very important to me; crucial that I talk and talk until I have voiced it all. We're still playing, he's still in charge, but I feel that I am also expressing my personhood now. I feel more comfortable in my skin and more calm in my mind. No longer concerned about fitting into any contrived category, or people pleasing in a sacrificial way (that is, doing what is told even if I am having doubts), I feel authentically me, closer and closer to operating in a healthy narcissism category. That's a good thing. I am certain of it.

2015: Reflections

One of my Facebook friends asked the question, 'How would you sum up your 2015 in one word?' and this got me thinking. I asked my oldest son for his word and he immediately answered 'confronting'. When I asked why it was confronting he reminded me that one of his dearest school chums had died of an overdose in 2015. His grandfather, with whom he had developed a strong bond over the past years had become sick towards the end of the year and he'd visited him in the hospital almost every day until his death; spoken at his funeral; watched him return to the earth. His two best mates had moved overseas during the year and he'd broken up with his girlfriend with whom he was living late in the year as well.

From a career perspective or a business perspective, 2015 wasn't remotely 'confronting'; rather fast moving and successful. At work, he's the rising star. Like me, he immediately thought to base his one word to describe 2015 on his own personal feelings. It was internally, within himself,  where he'd been 'confronted' by life as it played out in the past year.

I've tried a few times to look back on my own 2015 and feel a bit lost for a single word to describe the past year in my life. I read over a few posts that I wrote here but they only prove that you can't judge what is happening to a person by the posts they publish on the Internet, any more than you can judge a young man by the image he projects in a well cut suit who is routinely getting on and off internationally bound airplanes  .

I can point to highlights of the year. We saw one of our sons graduate with his university degree. He has been challenged in his life by a condition that made school harder for him than it is for most young men but he excelled in the final year of his degree, proving yet again that you should never write a child off and that you should almost always allow a child to do that which turns them on.

Our daughter and her partner bought a house together and I am very proud to say that they did a wonderful job in the past year transforming it into a lovely home. I was a little shocked when I first saw it. It was a gloomy sort of place at first sight and thus they proved, yet again, that nearly anything can be made beautiful with tender, loving care and a lot of paint.

I managed to get my husband away to Japan and we thrived over there alone together. It showed me, if I needed any further convincing, that I do well in the 'help-mate' role being led; that play sessions where I submit to authority are transformational for me; that we make a good team, and that everybody needs some fun and adventure in their lives.

I graduated with my Master of Arts in front of all my family, except the son travelling, and I was very happy to have obtained this goal. I've earned by 'colours' and now it's up to me to do something with the qualification in this new year.

In the final days of the year I was beginning to drift off to sleep one hot night and as I looked about the room my eye settled on the chair in the corner of the room. I can tell you a fact about the chair; that we had seen it in a furniture shop together some years ago now and I'd expressed the fact that I thought it was a lovely chair. I can tell you that one day, several weeks later, I'd walked into the bedroom and there was the chair, a surprise he'd devised. But, it doesn't tell you anything about my feelings as my eye settled on the chair late that night at the end of 2015. Rather, I looked at the chair and thought out of nowhere, 'I'm happy in my life. Here. With him. I'm glad I stayed. What a relief I didn't succumb; that I stayed true.'

In truth, the word for my 2015 is 'challenging'. Towards the middle of the year I began to take 'selfies' of myself. I felt so flummoxed and at sea that I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. The photographs showed me in no uncertain terms that I was deeply troubled. I'd look at them and wonder where I had gone; that person that had so often been referred to as 'ethereal' in the past. Yet, the photographs taken in Japan - and that's September/October - point to a transformation of my earlier troubled soul. I was happy, so happy, and it was evident; irrefutable.

Those readers who have been willing to continue reading here; to withstand my ups and downs through the years, may remember me writing about listening to a monk one Friday night. I'd taken my husband to hear him and together we listened as he told us that the purpose of life is to be happy; that everything flows from that.

I think the trick of life is to understand that nothing, good or bad, lasts forever. Life may be short but it's a long road and we will experience many ebbs and flows along the way. Holding onto what is authentic in our lives is key; listening to that voice, that deep down wisdom that we hold within each and every one of us about what is right and what is wrong.

Follow that voice. It won't lead you astray. Happy New Year.