Introspection

I decided to treat myself to a matinee yesterday. The entire family was doing their own thing and I raced off to the 2.30 pm showing of Woody Allan's latest offering, Blue Jasmine. I loved the movie and was sorry when it ended. I'm a big Woody Allan fan, but this film is really outstanding. My response to the film has a great deal to do with the fact that Cate Blanchett is able to so realistically and convincingly portray Jasmine, a privileged woman who has a nervous breakdown when she loses everything.

The terminology 'nervous breakdown' doesn't seem to be used much these days. I remember hearing those words when I was a little girl. When someone seemed very inside themselves and not of this world, and/or when they would ramble on to themselves, oblivious to those around them, I would ask my mother what was wrong. She would explain that the person had had a 'nervous breakdown.  When I was watching Blue Jasmine this terminology came back to me.

When I got home I immediately googled 'nervous breakdown' and found plenty of material but none more worthwhile than this article.

My husband has had a hard time. Readers who have been with me a while now know that. However, he is much improved; happier. Last night I sent him this link and this morning we discussed it a little, very calmly and very productively.

"I've been in the river for quite a while...", he said. (he means in the River of the Nile = denial)

"Yes. But, look how far you've come lately..."

"I've still got a way to go..."

"You're doing great."

This was a profound conversation; a massive step forward and an example of the fact that Dominant and submissive sometimes have to work together in wondrous ways; that it is not always about the Dominant teaching the submissive a better way. That sort of thought is for those not living in the real world.

I encourage you to take the time to read all '15 things'. This is the best breakdown I have ever read of what makes up a happy and calm disposition to take through life. I've made notes now and I intend to refer to them regularly.

The portrayal of a woman who closes her eyes to her husband's selfish,  stealing, white collar lawless ways is one that resonates for me. Such women, I have known. Even Jasmine admits that on some level she knew that her husband wasn't so clever as to honestly make all that money. It was convenient to turn a blind eye and the living was easy. Woody Allan is so good at this; at making us look at ourselves. But, look at ourselves we must.  It's never too late to learn a better way to live.

Saying 'I love you'

In my emails this morning was a brief email from a correspondent of mine who simply wrote that it seemed like I was fading away. That message made me think. Yes, I have been quiet; reflective; contemplative. I have felt stymied as well. I have felt that any further writing here is like feeding a shark; a thief; a man who is waiting for me to put up another post to give him more material for his novel. It just feels...wrong; invasive; 'word/idea rape'.

Yet, I'm still the same person living out my life in much the same way; still very absorbed in the same thoughts; hopes; dreams. I went over to my email that is attached to my Tumblr account and there was a new follower. I noted that he was a man and that his Tumblr blog was filled with what you might expect of a virile man with a strong sexual drive; lots and lots of reblogged photos of very sexy looking naked women with big breasts and big bottoms. I scrolled through a few pages and that was pretty much it. I make no judgement. It's his account; his daydream time; his lust and desire that he chooses to document for his enjoyment and so long as he's hurting no one, that's all fine.

The little experience did, however, remind me once again that my foray into the land of power exchange, BDSM and Tumblr is different. I don't shy away from the fact that at times I have put up very graphic photos of people having sex. I've even reblogged photographs of people having sex whilst other men stood by waiting for their turn of the 'fucktoy' because I certainly have those thoughts in my mind. In a fucktoy state of mind I'm capable of having the dirtiest thoughts that match the mind of a virile man. However, for me there is so much more to my explorations than just sex or the mind of the fucktoy who rejects so little of the male state of mind.

In returning to the dashboard of my Tumblr account I came across various writings. I follow several people who offer spiritual and inspirational thoughts regularly. I reblogged a list of very big questions because in taking the time to think about an answer a great deal can be learned about your own mind. If you're interested in seeing the whole list click onto the 'Complete Cindi' link.

The question numbered 16 captured my attention particularly:

Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you?

Regular readers will know that I have a friend who I refer to as a 'mentor' because I have no better word to describe our relationship. We've been friends for a good many years now and although he comes and goes in my life in rather rapid fashion these days, we've ridden through the good and the bad times together. We've remained friends in that sort of 'undying friends' way that you have with one or two people in your life.

My friend is a very dominant minded sort of man who likes to have control and to be in control whilst I am a very submissive minded sort of woman who likes to give up control and to get to a state where I feel I have no control. Our exchanges have been along this line as he's provided training and opportunity for me to experience this sort of exchange. It's only words. The Pacific Ocean is between us, however it's been very valuable and earnest. We take it very seriously.

We've become so intuitive within these exchanges that I feel sure that we both know when something is up. We can feel some sort of issue with one another and in our own way we attempt to deal with our upset feelings. Of course, our arrangement isn't perfect because of the dynamic we have agreed to and there are misunderstandings; little hurts and grievances along the way. Every now and then we come out of the dynamic for a very short time to air those grievances or to talk about an issue in our 'real' lives that may make it difficult or impossible for us to continue talking for the time being.  It's very rare but occasionally that happens.

My dear friend was explaining to me within the dynamic we share that things were not good for him at this time and I should not expect him to log on for a time. Of course, I wanted to understand why this was so because for the past month I had my worries about him which I had been unable to share and I didn't want him to walk away without some discussion about this.

I deemed it better that we come out of the dynamic and I asked permission to do so. As I said earlier, we take our agreement very, very seriously and he's the leader of our exchange. Very. much. so. He gave me permission and we discussed more openly what had led to this outcome. In a very grown up way, I thought, (and I hope he would agree) we reached mutual agreement that a 'time out' was best; that we remained "absent friends" and that when the time was right we would resume contact.

To explain my mindset I can only say that some friendships and associations are for life. I feel this very strongly. He has made mistakes with me and I have made mistakes with him but we have forgiven one another those mistakes. We recognize in one another a sense of goodness and we have a deep sense of trust and acceptance of one another. We are both good people.We both mean well. Neither one of us wants to say goodbye and so we never do (and mean it). We have made up a few times now and just moved on.

Anyway, we were winding up this final conversation for an indefinite period of time. I knew there were only seconds left and I had the strongest, strongest desire to type I love you. Hopefully, no reader would misinterpret this statement. We've never had a romantic notion towards one another and our exchanges don't bear that sentiment at all. Our exchanges are in fact quite formal in tone as pertains to our dynamic. I had the desire to type those words because I wanted him to know that I cared deeply; that I wished him well; that I accepted him for who he was regardless of actions that might have caused me hurt. Through it all, I loved him as a human being and as my friend.

I didn't type those words. Our dynamic has a number of rules and one of the rules is that we do not say such things to one another. The trust, the care, the acceptance and the endearment should already be known and felt.

Yet, in the weeks since then I have regretted that I held back. Why must it be that I can't express a sentiment that goes to the heart of our friendship? And, so I say it now, as one friend to another. I love you. Through good times and bad, you're my friend. Be well.

Deep Self

The academic/writing work I've been doing asks that I consider what motivates someone to make certain choices and most importantly, what motivates them to choose a certain person to be their wife or husband. It suggests that we are drawn to someone for reasons that we may not be able to articulate; that we go along almost hostage to our deeper thoughts. Our attraction to that person is made up of parts that we don't entirely understand.

In the writing I am studying the man is obsessed with a girl; a girl that is obsessed with another man. It's a love triangle. In fact, the man obsessed with the girl does have his way with her, when the man with whom she is obsessed has an epiphany and realizes that he must walk away from her. His troubles are such that in order to create the least collateral damage, he needs to go solo.

The man, after all that obsessing understands finally that he and the girl were never meant to be together; that she isn't moving towards him but rather moving away from her husband. In effect, no one of them was right for the other and it's time for all of them to move on.

Having spent the best part of the weekend reading the source material I found myself, surprisingly, most struck by the third wheel in the story; the man who wants the girl that he can't have. A tortured soul due to his obsession, it is only when he is still enough for long enough to allow communion with his Deep Self that he can see reality clearly. Within him was the truth all along but only late in the story can he see all the players for what they are; for what he is, too. Finally, he can lay the matter to rest and move on with his life.

It's the poignant story of longing; of soulful longing of that which was never meant to be ours.  Whilst we leave the characters at this point, something tells us that they will be all right; that their darkest days may well be behind them.

It makes me wonder if one of the most courageous things we can do is to reach into our Deep Self, to recognize ourselves for just who we are; what we think; what we obsess about and to go the extra step of revealing that inner world to our partners. Can we truly say that we are united, body and soul, if we keep that understanding to ourselves? Perhaps, we hold back from revealing ourselves in depth to a husband or wife because we suspect that there are parts of us that are not at all likable; selfish; demanding; hungry; wanton; greedy.

Is it better, we may wonder, to hold a little of that detail back and to accept the other just as they are; to count our blessings; to be grateful. Do we, in fact, through marriage, ask too much of the other; to accept us for all our failings and we, in turn, accept our other for his or hers? This is the tango of life and devotion to one another is a noble and wonderful act, in spite of some possible incompatibility; some part of the soul that may remain in reserve, unrequited.

" No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main," wrote John Donne, yet it is true there is a part of us that is nearly always alone;  perhaps should be alone.

I think this is exactly why I write. There is something about the essence of me that I don't really want to take alone to my grave.

Abeyance

I have always had the desire with this web journal to be entirely honest. If I want to write fiction I can write myself a story. Here, what I write is what I feel, experience and live. This code of mine is not always a popular choice, I suspect, because when things aren't in 'tip top' shape in my life that may not make for great reading for the people that choose to read here. However, this is not a popularity contest and the reason why I write here is most often to express myself in a way that I can't do anywhere else.

Yet, I feel a need to apologize on occasion for the content of the journal. I'm aware it has a readership and that my woes aren't really what you come here to read. On the other hand, Rollymo made the comment not so long ago that he feels that the attraction for him was that I suffer, somewhat. Anyways, you can't please them all all the time, as they say, and I don't even pretend to try.

It has reached a point where I feel obliged to apologize somewhat for the change of direction in the writing. I extended the subject matter some time ago to include not just D/s and power exchange matters but also living well and with peace and calm. I did that because it evolved that the full power exchange arrangement I was attempting to live went that way.

It was and is, in my mind, very much about satisfying and deeply connecting sex. However, through the course of my online mentoring, issues related to finding peace and living calmly and with purpose came up as part and parcel of living more like a 'doll'. I embraced those notions and extended them to include practices that I find very comforting and sustaining on a daily basis.

Pilates, yoga, meditation, mindfulness, breathing through anxiety, finding my own peace, being still and silent are all practices and remedies I use routinely to help me function well. I still take a good deal of care about my appearance and I still very much prefer to wear a dress or a skirt. I still tend to my acrylic nails every two weeks. I try hard to mind my words and my manners. All of this is in place and fulfills and comforts me.

Life with my husband is, regrettably, at this juncture, not all that I would wish it to be. I've not shied away from writing that I asked him to spank me and later, to enter into a full D/s relationship. It wasn't his idea and he would never have brought this to the table.

Sure, he has always wanted to do things his way. He's quite conservative and even old-fashioned, born in an era when women did the inside work and men did the outside work; when men looked after the finances and women looked after the children. More than that, he has some personality characteristics that make it important for him to have things done in his own inimitable style and according to his own personally defined sense of things being done properly and perfectly.

However, dominating a woman physically wasn't something that he sought, desired or thought proper. This was my desire, my need, my desperate life time longing.

My husband needs to live his life in a way that works for him. He works for himself because that suits him best. He works both day and night because he has a strong tendency to define his life through his work. He is nocturnal. This means that although he put in a full day's work he also works through the night. Lately, this has intensified. He's working in overseas markets and he needs to be up at odd times.

Also, he has not been really well for quite some time and this ill health has intensified lately. His body has been in pain and wondering if it might be the lack of sleep that is making matters so much worse, I have quietly got up each morning and left him to sleep as long as he can. This means that we rarely are awake in the bed at the same time.

It is a woman's job to comfort her sick man. I know this intellectually and my heart tells me this is the right thing to do. However, a woman is intuitively restless when her man is unwell. Her 'provider' and 'protector' is not functioning and this makes her unsettled. This is a primal instinct. There isn't a great deal we can do about it. We can make the soup and say comforting things but inside we just aren't at all happy.

For me, it's one thing to not have those heady moments of feeling I have submitted to all sorts of dastardly deeds, it's quite another to not have intimacy, sex, in my life. Sex once a week has seemed lean to me. Sex once a month feels like a mini-death and I can't really get my head around celibacy at all. I'm just not cut out for this sort of life.

I'm not suggesting that I am in the position of some permanent demise. I anticipate there is a remedy to this ill-health, although I am not at all sure from where or when it will come. I'm surprised and saddened at the minimal efforts that have been made to provide some sustenance for me in any form. He could tie my wrists, or put a gag in my mouth at night; he could do little things requiring little effort or strain. Yet, he rarely has done so. He's almost completely withdrawn to his life of work. He's clearly in a lot of physical pain and emotional turmoil.

I asked him recently if he ever read my journal and he said that he wasn't aware that I was still writing here. That said it all, in my mind. His mind is so clearly filled with worry and distress and his body so full of pain that he hasn't got the ability to address our relationship at this time. Oh, we still have a cuddle on the couch. He still sometimes rubs my back in the wee hours of the night when he comes to bed. He had me wear an anal plug when we went to the Market a few days ago which was lovely. We are still the best of friends. We still talk and interact. We both hang in there. But, it isn't the same. It is a fraction of the relationship it was a few years ago.

I read about his condition. I have tried to get him to take a lack of sleep seriously. I have identified that he may be responding to tea and in the past few days he has had a lot less pain. I think we may be onto something here.

I am trying to stay positive. I get on my with life. I still have a household of people to care for. There's still a lot of cooking and caring going on. I meditate. I assure myself  that I have strength in reserve; that I have the tools I need to get through this period of my life. I do my academic study. I am mindful of dark thoughts and I know to challenge them and to move on. But, I am lonely. This is not something I can share with anyone but with myself (and you) in this journal.

I haven't much to report in the way of wonderful D/s experiences right now. There really isn't much reason to come here at all and I apologize about that. There have been much better days but this too shall pass.

About 'The Training School'

Readers may remember that I went to a Writers' Festival not so long ago and there I heard Bryce Courtenay speak. Rather than talk too much about what he wrote or even how he wrote, he used the time to talk about himself, which is actually the most interesting topic of all.

Bryce is an extraordinary story teller and although the talk went over the hour, I remember what he said almost word for word. He was asked about his childhood and he spent the early years of his life in an orphanage in South Africa; a dark and sinister orphanage where he was beaten almost daily.

He doesn't know how he came by the name he has but it is an English name and surrounded by Boers, who hated the English for what they did to them in the War (burning their homes and farms), they hated him too. It was almost comical when someone from the audience asked him if he had any scars from those times that he has carried into his adulthood. He rather sheepishly said that he had, alas, a thing about obese women because the Matron was obese and she beat him regularly.

One day in the orphanage, some awful man who came to beat him up every day (he's seven, mind you!) approached him as he regularly did and Bryce instinctively said,

"Please, please, please Mister, don't beat me. If you don't beat me, I'll...I'll tell you a story."

"What kind of story?" the man wanted to know. "It had better be a good story or I'll pummel you..."

"It's a very good story, " he assured the brute and he proceeded to tell him a story.

He got to a certain point in the story and said something like,

"I can tell you more of the story tomorrow."

Bryce said that it was very important that he keep hold of the story and have more for tomorrow because he wasn't saving himself here from one beating but all the beatings to come.

Every day, the man arrived and Bryce had more of the story to tell him, and in this way he saved his hide.

Many years later, he was listening to the radio and on came what they called a serial...maybe 'Blue Hills'. I remember my father had three radio serials that he listened to every morning while he did his book work, so I knew what Bryce was talking about.

"The bastards," he apparently said, "they stole my idea."

He believes that the serial was his invention, all those years ago!

'The Training School' is something of a serial. I only had the vaguest ideas of where the story was going when I began it and when I publish a chapter it is hot off the page. I definitely will have to adjust things. What you are reading is nothing more than a first draft.

So far, the story is pretty tame. The general idea is that there is a girl, Lucille who recognizes her submissive nature, has married a dominant man but remains hidden inside her shell. She has secrets that she keeps even from herself. The role of Nicholas and the others at the Training School is to get her to a point where she embraces her whole self, even her most deviant thoughts and desires. This is important not only in order that she understand more about her role and status in the relationship but also that she embrace her deepest, darkest needs and desires and thereby come to peace with them and her 'inner slut'.

It is rather interesting listening to feedback through the back channels. The views do vary a lot but I certainly do listen to each one of them. Please feel free to offer your thoughts. All constructive criticism is appreciated.

Meanwhile, it is time to take things up a notch or so, so buckle in for the ride, and close your eyes if you are squeamish.

About cindi

As much as we might try to 'walk in the other man's shoes', we never really can know what it is like to live the life of another person. We can empathize and do our best to understand, but we cannot experience life as he or she experiences it. And, in the same way, a person may keep a web journal, and people may stumble upon it and read it but never really understand what that person is trying to say. Keeping a web journal is rather unlike story telling or writing a novel, because in those instances, the story can be crafted to be appealing to many people, with a beginning, a middle (a crisis perhaps) and an end. Web journals are not really stories in the sense that they are not crafted. In any case, my web journal is not crafted but rather a diary of sorts; of my life and the thoughts in my head.

It has been said to me that my web journal is indicative of who I am. I am "serving" the perverts (and I mean that in the nicest of ways, of course). I admit that sometimes I am motivated by the desire to help or educate. I have a desire to give hope to those who want to turn their lives around in some way; to make a difference through sheer will. I was in a dark place before I found the light, and if my experiences can assist someone else out there to find their bit of light, then that would make me very happy. I actually trained as a teacher, so that motivation is there within me.

But, I would be lying if I said anything other than this: that I write here regularly because wild horses could not stop me. I have a strong desire to write and an even stronger desire to write about submission and dominance. I love to read about it, to write about it and to discuss it. It is magic to me; the opportunity to feel completely me.

I can appreciate that my efforts to explain 'cindi' and that place I go as 'cindi' may not be appreciated or desired reading for some people. If that is true, it changes nothing. I chronicle my experiences as I do because that is what is honest and true and I have no interest in doing things any other way. But, perhaps I, as Vesta can assist (and it is one of the reasons I maintain that persona) in explaining 'cindi' a little, to those who wish to understand.

I doubt you can create an alter ego (an ego less state) such as cindi if it is not there in the first place. Yes, I was led towards that persona but I most certainly did not need to be dragged. I did not just go willingly towards her but with a rush of excitement and thrill that can only occur if she had already lived within me. Her 'birth' was one of the most thrilling days of my life and she finds expression in almost every day of my life.

Far from living only in the bedroom (although she certainly does shine in that room) she is a part of my every day and night. She finds expression in every choice I make: how to communicate with my husband, how to make use of my day, what to eat, what to wear; how to think about myself and how to think about my body. The opportunity to let her breathe and shine and express herself in her own inimitable way has made me breathtakingly happy. Just when I think that I have reached the crescent of the hill in terms of happiness, I find that perhaps the opportunities for happiness for cindi are limitless.

It is such a formidable task to explain all this. But, let me put it this way and see if it helps. A few days ago I was watching a documentary about the remaking of 'A Chorus Line' on Broadway. The dancers/singers/actors were subject to recalls, those of them selected, and of course they were very anxious. One girl said this (or thereabouts):

"Dancing is the best part of me. I am only really alive when I am on the stage.

I connected with that for when cindi is on show, I feel most alive. cindi is the best part of me.

It is not lost on me that I had 'Lady Luck' on my side. I had the opportunity to speak with someone who somehow intuitively sensed this about me. And, as someone dear said to me, either I have been very lucky or I have had exquisite intuition about people for my relationships/friendships in this space have worked out so very well.

To those few out there for whom these ramblings might mean something, let me say this. It is not dumb to let yourself go. It is not foolish to allow your inner voice to be aired. Follow your heart. Make use of your instincts and use your god-given intuition. There is hard work to be done to find and embrace your submissive voice, if that is what you want, but also a sense of peace, happiness and fulfilment that will blow you away.

Looking in the mirror

In the movie 'Smothered', Diane Keaton plays yet another rather neurotic woman. She has decided to come and live with her son, leaving her husband. She turns the son's life into a living hell as she has her meltdown and eventually his patience with her runs out. He says something like:

"Why don't you look in the mirror? Why don't you, for just a moment, stop and consider your behaviour as it affects those around you?"

I wasn't actually watching this movie. One of the children had it on and I can't say I recommend it at all to you. But, the line did get my attention for reasons I will explain shortly.

And, this morning, as I thought about that, I recalled Michael Jackson's words:

I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change


My friend, Cassie, has written a very special post for you entitled 'The Mirror' and I invite you to read it carefully when it is posted in the next few days. She encourages you to look in the mirror in a most engaging and unique way. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did and that it inspires you as much as it did me to look in the mirror.