Same Book, Different Chapters

Hello world.. It’s been a while. And I’m still here. Words are just hard sometimes.

Life right now is a sea of polarities and changes, and getting it all down.. There isn’t enough time. There aren’t enough words. I came much too close to disappearing.

I suppose first news.. I’m engaged. Which is odd. And mind boggling. And something I check in about probably far more than I should. My sweet Ace asked me to marry him on October 17,2018. Knowing I need to be poly. Knowing that there would be other partners, as he has another nesting partner. Knowing I want babies. Knowing all the things and loving me anyway. He has loved me, and even wanted me, for a very, VERY long time and is the happily ever after I never thought I would have. We were never supposed to end up together. We met in a chat room over a decade ago and over two thousand miles apart. We’ve always been long-distance and, I admit, not always been ethical. And he, my metamour, and a couple of kiddos will be joining me in the Bay. Ace comes in May, and my meta and the kids come in June.

Ace is flourishing as a top, which.. I’ve needed. But he is not a sadist. He can’t beat me. He’s not an impact top.

James and I are healthier than we’ve been in a long while. He’s been an incredible friend, and has dealt with the barrage of questions from friends about how he feels about me getting married. Just because I said yes to Ace doesn’t mean I would say no to interactions and adventures with James. He knows I love him to the moon and back. Lately he’s been one of the few safe places I’ve had. One of my few kink connections that I know I can lean on. The poor man has absorbed more of my tears in the last few months..but we are still on uncertain ground as far as playing goes. I asked him. I hit a wall after months of not playing with any sort of impact and I asked. He asked me why. And I told him that he was safe. He wouldn’t ask for more. He knows me inside and out. And he knows… I’m not all there right now. A soft yes turned into a maybe as the weeks have gone by and I find myself.. Still starving.

I hadn’t been to the Citadel in months. I fell into a foolish trap, and I didn’t even realize it until I was too far gone to undo the damage. Ryan and I haven’t seen each other since 2018. We talk, every day. We still do good morning and good night rituals. We play video games together, over distance. But he hasn’t seen me since December. We haven’t played since November. And we stopped having sex over the summer. We tried talking to a relationship coach and instead of tackling the issues it became that everything was my fault and I needed to change. And I did what I always do. I adapted, I changed, I bent backwards. I cried, and mourned, and.. have been slowly coming to terms with the fact that my Daddy has become the most toxic human in my life.

I still wear my mark.
I haven’t called him Daddy since 2018.
Everything hurts.

I was waiting to go to the Citadel with HIM. Waiting for him to be excited for BaGG again (he stopped going in November, taking away our easiest play venue). Waiting for him to make room for me again.. And he hasn’t. He didn’t. And I’m still processing that because my silly squishy mind loves him so damn fucking much that I can’t make myself walk away. I can’t make myself say “we need to talk”. And I know I need to. Poor James and Cal have heard hours of me sobbing and crying and…breaking.

And so much of of me is breaking. Is dying. The part of me that is a little is this sad, shattered thing right now too scared to show itself most of the time.

The part of me that is, and has always been a kinkster…

I went to the Citadel for the first time in months last Friday, for Bent, a party that James has worked for years. He encouraged me to come hang out and even poked my squishy sub side, asking if I would fetch sushi for him. I had to get him sushi by me and not our go-to place in Japantown..but fetching helped my brain a little. It was the most submissive thing I had done in a long time. I never thought I would miss things like sweeping someone’s floor and doing someone’s dishes but..

Sigh.

I watched. I watched a lot, and I wanted.. But I’m aware that I’m hurting too much to reach out for new connections. And I am also aware that one of the things that would greatly help the hurting is play. I watched James practice throw a new whip onto a spanking bench and it took everything in me not to launch myself onto the damn bench. I am starving. I need impact. Hard, pushing me to my limit impact. I need to break on the cross. I need marks. I need metal and whips and canes and all the things that make me fly.

And I don’t have anyone safe to do that with right now. My safe person was Ryan. He was who scratched my D/s itch.

Now…

The mental play from Ace helps, but he’s still 3000 miles away until April.

Is it horrible to say that I desperately need the ever-living crap beaten out of me? Probably. Still saying it.

For now, most of my D/s is fantasy. I’m re-reading and listening to the books and stories that got me into kink to begin with, and when I don’t miss it so much. I am the single friend at BaGG, smiling for all my friends that have coupled up while I was stuck and trying to save a relationship that had dug itself so deep into my soul.

I am in a sea of people that all know me and adore me, and I feel so utterly alone. There is no one that can catch me in the way that I need. No one that can let me fly. No one that can push those D/s buttons that I desperately need pushed. And. I’m dealing with that best I can. Some days are much easier than others. Some days my demons eat me alive and I look back on who I was and I miss her. I miss that human that would skip through the dungeon from one scene to another and go home black and blue with a smile on my face.

Bright side. It’s been so long since I played that I may actually bruise.
Down side. I have no idea what my pain tolerance is anymore. I doubt I’m still a heavy bottom.

But it would be nice to know.

I have a newer partner, Seth, that’s been living on my couch, in now in my roommate’s room, since July (my roommate of two years moved out last week). He is wonderfully flawed, a sweet cowboy that is slowly learning the world of BaGG and the misfits I call my family. He’s a country boy from the middle of nowhere, so all that city noise can be a bit too much for him but he tries. He tries with me too, encouraging me to call him Papa Bear and giving me space to little. He can’t hit me. He tries with that too. He will smack my ass sometimes during sex (and to be clear the sex is VERY GOOD. It’s just very vanilla in many ways) and bite me a little. But, it’s band aids when I need stitches. He’s put up with me so much. He’s supported me through the bad nights when I’ve come home sobbing over what asshole thing Ryan has done next. He’s a good, wonderful human that I’m blessed to have in my life.

I have others. A beautiful woman that I’ve begun seeing and that I’ve played with. It was quite fun… it made me squeak.

I need to scream.

I have a sweet Australian that returns from time to time and makes me feel like a goddess. I’ll see him again in March for a lovely weekend up in the mountains at hot springs.

I need to cry.

I am..functioning. Mostly. Hurting. But functioning.

Another biggie I should probably mention is… well. There’s been a bit of shift in gender identity. I cut off all my hair and shaved the sides, so now I have ‘the’ stereotypical queer haircut. She and her are still okay, but over the last few months they/them has become increasingly more comfortable to identify as. I don’t like Miss. I like Mx.

I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m hurting. But I’m growing. I’m back in the studio. I’m working hard at my job. I’m building a family.

 

I just miss flying. I hope I haven’t forgotten how.

It has been a long time, but I am still yours, dear reader

-Rene

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