Tag Archives: bad mood

Jealous

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Jealousy is a thing.

I know there are some people who claim not to get jealous… There are also some that claim that if you’re poly you can’t get jealous.

The second one is bullshit, and I envy those that can accomplish the first. I can’t. I fully admit that I can’t, even with the poly element as part of my relationship.

James has one friend that is literally everything that I am not. Friend is a very loose term.. They’ve known each other for years and, as it often can be, it’s complicated…

I don’t mean the whole she’s everything I’m not as a dig against myself.. she just.. is.. While I’m a brunette and dark of features she is a blonde and fair. While I am compact she is tall and leggy, and while I have some extra curvage she is quite literally perfectly proportioned. It goes passed physical into the world of skills..  I was excited to show off belly dancing for James..until the first time I saw her move with a grace I just don’t have and went “nope!”. She is also rather skilled as deep tissue massage, something that helps James when he has a sore back that I just don’t know how to do right now.. She is outgoing while I take a while to warm up to people, and has no qualms plopping down in my boyfriend’s lap when I am incredibly skiddish about trying such a thing.. I am incredibly self conscious (especially recently… I can feel clothing being tight on me…) about my size.. I’m worried I’m too big to plop in his lap… and the thought makes me very sad. I want lap time too…

I digress. As I said, James has this friend who is everything I’m not. She is very sweet, very nice, and so for the most part I ignore the triggers she causes in me. I know it’s me, seeing my own inadequacies and girl brain, and that there is a reason he chose me as his primary. There’s a reason he keeps me. But that doesn’t help when the pretty leggy blonde is in his lap and I’ve been begging for lap time for a good month…

There is a routine to BaGG nights, one that I have fallen in to easily. The time before BaGG is my time with James. It’s when we snuggle, do very bad things in his car that could possibly get us arrested (tee hee), talk, and basically touch base before the hecticness of the night begins. Once we walk into Wicked Ground we can still snuggle and often play for the entertainment of ourselves and others, but that’s when the performance starts and I have to share him. Once we enter the club I know he will spend time with me when he can, but the performance continues. It only breaks when I need him… when something’s seriously wrong and I need that point of connection, of eye contact, of him to hold me for just a second or give me one sweet kiss to tell me everything is okay. Once that performance starts there is no stopping it, especially in the club when you add work mode on top of it. I know this routine, I know it well, and I don’t attempt to stop it. I love watching James work. He works his ass off and he’s got a damn good eye. I’ve even learned to love giving him material to shoot… I have a group of friends that I play with at BaGG. I love when he takes photos of me playing and I catch the smirk on his face as he clicks the shutter.

It’s a good routine, one that I don’t think to disturb for lap time or unnecessary snuggles when he’s focused… I play by the rules, afraid to break his focus or be too much of a pest. Afraid of the reprimands he may give. It can be hard, especially when BaGG is the only day that week I get to see him and that hour alone in the car together is the only in-person time I get with my boyfriend.

I am one of those people that finds physical touch to be incredibly healing. I’ve mentioned before that I am a tactile person. If I’m not touched enough, held enough.. Emotionally, I shift. I become more on-edge. Sometimes I don’t realize it.

The other night I got no time with James before BaGG. This happens sometimes, it’s life. Sometimes adulting gets in the way of kinky fuckery. The week before I had only gotten to see James at BaGG itself, and he had barely made it in time. There was no check-in, no snuggles… and the day had not been the easiest. The week had not been the easiest.

I didn’t quite realize how much it had effected me until I looked over and saw Leggy Blonde in a little outfit walking off with my boyfriend just when I had gone over to talk to him about something. I gave them a wide birth, and did what I tend to do when my friends are not at BaGG and I’m not otherwise occupied. I watched.

I watched her curl up in his lap.. Watched him hold her, nuzzle her. Watched them kiss. I was shocked by the amount of jealousy and hurt that I felt. We’re poly. It wasn’t as if this was breaking any rules.

…But this wasn’t play. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t kinky fuckery, which we both get off on watching the other do.

This was intimacy. Something I can’t ask for once the performance starts, and something I hadn’t gotten much of with him lately. I fought the tears burning the corners of my eyes as I watched, half talking to the friend who had come down to sit next to me.

She, in turn, followed my gaze.

“He picked you, you know. She doesn’t have the girlfriend title. You do.”

That didn’t mean that the girlfriend title would have been denied to her if she had wanted to. I didn’t know. I don’t know their past. I haven’t asked. I’m too afraid that my girl-brain will self-combust and I will become an insecure mess no sir wants to touch, no matter MY Sir.

I could feel my hurt turning to resentment and anger. Before I did something based off of heat of the moment emotions that I would regret, I sent him a text telling him that we needed to talk.. that I needed to talk to him as his girlfriend, not his submissive.

It’s when communication breaks down that you’re fucked over jealousy issues.. And while James and I don’t have great amounts of time to discuss things, when we do sit and really talk we do well. We clear up a lot of miscommunications and issues and leave the conversation a lot lighter than when we entered it..

I entered the conversation pissed and hurt, angry that while I played by the rules someone he has a past with was getting the physical attention and intimacy I craved and, at times, begged for. I went back into the club a bit more reassured about my place. I understood why she was receiving such physical intimacy, and understood why he reserved such intimacy between he and I for when we were alone.. I know when the mask goes on, when the performer goes on stage, I should not try to pull him off. I wouldn’t want to. I love the man behind the mask and know when to watch him on stage, when to join, and when to be in the wings for the intermission.

That doesn’t mean I still don’t want physical attention while in the club.. and that doesn’t fully kill off my jealousy issues. She is still everything I am not. And I am still aching for more touch from the man I adore..

But I can see James doing what he can to squash those issues, as I try to work on the internal triggers in me that cause the issues I have in the first place. Neither of us shut down, which would be the easiest thing to do. We hear the other out. He’s got the patience of a saint with me when it comes to the feels, and it reminds me often how lucky I am to actually be in a healthy poly relationship.

Jealousy happens. We’re only human. It’s what you do when the jealousy spikes that matters.

Yours reassured,

-Rene

The Shrinking Man

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I love the Dominant men I’m involved with, in their different ways for the different relationships I have with them. I’ve gotten the closest to three; the man that found me, the man that owns me, and the man that pushes me. Each relationship is radically different from the last, with different levels of closeness.

Despite all the differences between the men and the relationships I’ve had with them they, along with most Dominant men I’ve met, have had a common trait; one that often clashes with the submissives in their care.

Submissives, by nature, are made to share. To be emotionally honest. To share every last detail, last thought, with the Dominant men in their lives so that the Dominants can be assured that their submissive is healthy, physically and emotionally, and that this relationship is still okay for both of them. In essence, we talk a lot. We share a lot. We can yammer until we’re blue in the face, especially if we’re nervous (just ask Kane…).

Dominants, from my experience, tend to do the opposite. They take any emotional burdens in on themselves. They want to process through emotional stuff on their own. Smith gave me the term “shrinking man”. He’s admitted to shrinking when he’s upset, or going through a hard time. He pulls away, gets quiet. Trying to balance and talk to submissives turns into another emotional burden, making the situation worse.

There’s nothing wrong with not being an emotional talker, with not wanting to express every last emotion and empty out what’s going on in your head. It’s just such a different approach than most submissives take on communication and processing emotions. This can be a bit of a mental mindfuck for subs, especially inexperienced ones.

This journal entry hits close to home for me.. it’s something I personally struggle with, seeing those I care about in emotional turmoil but being unable to help as they help me. A Dominant’s job is to be able to put together all the pieces of their submissive. To know what makes them tick. Know what their triggers are. In that knowledge, they ease their submissive during tough times more so than anyone else. Kane is the first man to see me at my worst, my most depressed, and know exactly how to bring me back from the emo ball of doom that I was in. He did it so easily, so effortlessly, that I hadn’t even noticed what he was doing until after, when I was curled up in his arms and my mood was 20 times lighter.

As a submissive, it’s hard not to feel like a failure when you can’t do the same for your Dominant, or a Dominant in your life. We want to make everything better, to please, it’s a need for us. We need to make it better… or we’re not doing our job, right?

Wrong. This can be the HARDEST thing for a submissive to process. Submissives, who are groomed to be emotionally open and pleasing and cause pleasure for those they care for and trust.

Sometimes you just can’t make it better, and that’s okay.

You, as a submissive, are not a failure if you can’t pull a Dominant in your life out of his funk or mood. It’s hard, because your focus is on them, You get pleasure from their pleasure..and if there is no pleasure for them… falling into their spiral of unhappiness is all too easy. “Why should you be happy” the bad voices say “if they aren’t? Why should you do well, take care of yourself, when you can’t take care of them?”

Because, in the end, taking care of yourself is your job. Yes, you gain pleasure from pleasing Dominants. Yes, I’m sure you care about the Doms in your life, probably even love some of them, or all of them, or one of them. Maybe you only have one spectacular Dominant man in your life who owns you, and you completely come undone for him. Maybe you have other players in the band who don’t have quite that much power over you, but let you come undone all the same. No matter how many men you have holding the flogger in the wings, you are, in the end, your Dominant’s prized possession. If you are not in working order, not taking care of yourself, you cause so much more harm than good.

The easiest way to help a Dominant who cares about you is to care for yourself. Keep going, Don’t shrink when he does, but don’t push either. Continue with your day to day life and do things that make you happy. Keep yourself okay, so that when they’re okay again you’re emotionally healthy enough to really be in their lives. It’s okay to be supportive, to let them know that you are there if they want to talk, or lean on you.. or, you know, beat some of their frustrations out on you if that’s your thing. But it needs to be okay with you, subby sub, if they say “Thank you, but I have to get through this on my own.” It’s not personal, it’s not against you. You are not a bad submissive. Your Dominant is just human, just like you are. Humans have flaws; cracks in their armor, even humans you worship, kneel in front of, and beg to use you for their pleasure. Dominants are not gods.

Polyamory adds a whole other twist to the mental mindfuck of pleasing the Shrinking Man. My friend says often that polyamory helps make you a better you, and that each partner helps bring out different parts of yourself. That may mean that when Mr. Domly Dom goes into shrink mode he turns to another partner instead of you.

This is not a personal attack, subby sub. You are in that person’s care for a reason. They play with you, or date you, or do wonderfully wicked things to you, or snuggle with you, for a reason. If you are in their lives, you hold importance to them and you have to remember that. Polyamory is a juggling act, making sure that every partner feels special and unique and secure in their particular relationship with you. That particular relationship may mean that another partner shoulders the heavier emotions so that your particular relationship with Dommy Dom remains healthy.

I have heard it said, and have said myself, that being a Dominant is a damn hard job. Supporting your submissive, anticipating their needs, and thinking of 12 different outcomes to one event is hard work. But being a submissive can be hard as well. It takes courage to submit, and strength in knowing when to submit and when to merely support. Don’t let the shrinking scare you off from the Dommy Dom, and please don’t read this thinking that all Doms shrink. Hopefully, this will just help a couple subs navigate emotionally choppy waters if it does happen. If you support the people in your lives, and still manage to support yourself, you are a good submissive. Keep going. Things will get better.

Yours hopefully helpful,

Rena

Perfectly Imperfect?

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There are times when I feel like a creature of flaws.

I used to do this glazing technique that was a crackle glaze over already finished tile I got from a scrap yard. When the coat of glaze was heavy enough it would remain on the tile and do this weird bubbling effect. When the layer was too light and I miscalculated the glaze would chip off, leaving these unfinished holes in my piece.

Sometimes that’s what I see when I look at myself. I am afraid that if I keep people close to me for too long the good parts will chip off in their mind, leaving all these damaged holes they didn’t know about. No one wants to deal with someone who’s just a bunch of damage and flaws. Physically, I can rip myself apart easily. I’m an overweight midget who looks twelve. Emotionally I can be immature and self deprecating (kinda like right now). Mentally I spiral at times and get depressive spikes during times like this where my life just isn’t on track.

The day started perfectly. I woke up wrapped in Kane’s arms, which turned into snuggling, caressing, and talking. There are times when I like waking up to a cock between my legs..and there are times when I relish the comfort of company. There was a point where he carried on a conversation we had started yesterday and I thought finished.

“I know you hate your tummy” he said at one point, and I do. He was running a hand down my lower back and over my ass. “But when you lay like this you are perfect, with the perfect little heart shaped ass, shapely legs, and a tight little waist.” I don’t know what he sees at times…but he made me smile.

After he left for work I got up and tried to cook an experimental breakfast. Once, twice, three times I tried something that I had made before..three times it failed. I finally went to the go-to bowl of cereal, leaving the pan on the stove in frustration.

I get my shit together to FINALLY go to the DMV and get a California license. I got there, pulled out the birth certificate that my father sent me…and saw it was issued in 1999.

Now I’m young, but I’m not that young.

It was my baby sister’s, which he sent me on accident. I called and informed him of the mistake, and he cursed a bit, but figured out that we could fix the problem by Friday. Still, it was a trip wasted and I was frustrated.

I went home and started a new project to sell on Etsy with materials I already had. I finished one, exercised, then came upstairs to finish the other. For some reason the parts of the other weren’t lining up. I undid it, tried again. It’s fucked up again. I undid it, tried it a third time..and threw the piece down on the table in frustration, got up, and took out the trash for Kane. One of my tasks is to do any dirty dishes that I make, and I’m normally on dinner duty when I cook. It was so late in the day and I was so frustrated I thought I would just wash them later when I needed the pan for cooking.

I didn’t see that the trash bag had leaked into the bottom of the trash can, and didn’t think that Kane would want to cook. He has a thing with rotten food, he just can’t do it. The site of it killed his appetite entirely. And then I heard the sound of him doing my dishes. Chip chip chip.

I went and hid in the studio room and started typing this blog up. Of course, he found me, and told me to come out. He asked me why I was hiding..and I told him I fucked up. “Did I say you fucked up?” he asked me. No. No he hadn’t, but I knew a lot of what went wrong was my fault. “Let me be the judge of that. When you fuck up I will tell you.

Easier said than done.

Now he’s in the bedroom..he didn’t eat dinner. I’m on the couch. Normally we curl up. We eat dinner together. Snuggle. Watch TV. Tonight.. I guess it’s just off. Part of me wants to go in the bedroom. Part of me wants to hide all the chips and stay out here. It’s easier to hide, to keep people at a distance, because the more you let them in the more it hurts when they leave.

I have let my Dominant and my boyfriend in more than I have let any man. I trust him completely, and love him more than I thought capable..so why am I still afraid of fucking up so badly that he throws me back? We talk about a future, with kids, a dog, and cats if he can stand the litter box. He says he accepts me how I am..which would be a first for any man in my life..

So why do I still feel like I’m rotten inside? There’s this gaping “I”M NOT GOOD ENOUGH” hole in me..and I don’t know how to word it without sounding like I’m going “pity me, pity me.” How do you talk to someone about that? “So, I know that you love me and all, but I’ve been screwing up in my mind so much lately that I feel like the shit on your shoe and I’m not sure what to do about it.” I know the “but I don’t see you that way and you didn’t fuck up” answer won’t fix it. He says I didn’t fuck up tonight..but I still want to curl up in a ball and hide.

I almost wish I had fucked up in his mind..then maybe he would punish me and this feeling wold go away. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just caught in a spiral due to the whole lack of job thing..the bad mood comes and goes. He didn’t kick me out. He didn’t tell me to go home.

I just mentally did it to myself.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Someday, maybe, I’ll see more than just my flaws.

Yours with chips

~Rena

What the Funk

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It always happens this time of year…probably because I’m always home (somehow). I call it the ‘single funk’. It never fails. Every year for some reason this time of year I’m…single.

I come from a microscopic small town. The biggest event we have is something called the St. Anthony’s Feast, a small carnival the local church throws right before school gets out every year. I have gone every year of my life. Even when I’m living 3000 miles away most of the time, somehow I can’t escape the feast. 

When I was a kid the feast was a serious highlight of my year. It marked the beginning of summer. It meant rides, zeppoli (fried bits of heaven with powdered sugar.. If you’ve never had it break the damn diet and eat some), and goofing off around the giant church parking lot with my friends. As you get older, however, it becomes something else. It’s where you take your family, or your significant other, as a first exposure to what it means to be with someone from Hawthorne. The feast is a formal invitation into our culture, into a town that doesn’t allow new people in all that easily and will shun you like hell when you go. 

This year… I feel more lonely than I think I ever felt while in San Francisco. I no longer have a single friend in my home town. Many acquaintances still, but no friends. Dragon was the last, and she and I haven’t spoken in about a month. 

I’ve become almost a local myth in this town, which amuses me. I’ve spent the week walking around and watching as the mothers gossip and the kids a couple years younger than me recognize me..barely. Their eyes widen, and I hear at least one go “Is that really her? Holy hell!” Have I changed so much since I left this place? 

Yeah… probably. I no longer blend in. I hold my head higher. I know that I am beautiful, desirable, and a damn catch to the lucky guy (or guys..) who gets me. I make no apologize for who I am and where I live. I stand on my own two feet. No one knows what to do with me because of this. They all expected me to be back east by now, having come to my senses and realizing that my roots would always be my home and that there was no point in leaving. They didn’t expect me to move out west for good. 

I’m not sure that I expected to move out for good, not all the way to California. And yet I’m in the process of doing just that, and I’m happy with my choice on top of it all. I like my life, I like who I am, but trust my home town to rub in my face what my life lacks. 

Tonight I will go to the feast with my baby sister, because that is what you do when you are from this town. I will eat zeppoli and try to win my little sister a prize, and I will try to ignore the strange looks from the people who half remember the little shadow that used to live here, and hated every second of it. 

Jase’s new girlfriend is making her presence very much known on Facebook…and maybe that is part of my funk, although I hate to admit it. I hate to admit that her existing, that him having moved on, bothers me. I don’t even know the man he is anymore…let her have him. Says logical me. 

Emotional me is crying a little, missing the friend and the relationship, and hating her just because of who she is. That he has someone and that I am alone, at least in the romance department. I have play partners, yes, but an emotional connection? Not yet. No one I could bring to the feast, or ask to meet my parents. Nothing that can be pulled from the BDSM world into the vanilla world. Outside of BDSM, to everyone else I am single. 

I always am this time of year. 

Yours flying solo, and missing San Francisco

-Rena