Tag Archives: reflection

All the Lives I’ve Lived Before

Today I took a mental health day and let my racing brain recoup from what has already become a busy semester of grad school. I stayed home and allowed myself the guilty pleasure of purging through my closet, a relatively normal thing to many that used to be an extremly difficult thing for me to do.

For 28, I have been and done many things. Even looking back through this blog, when this whole journey started, I feel as though I have lived an entire life since 22.

A lot has changed since the last time I sat and wrote in this blog. A lot continues to change still.

We moved to Oakland in late April, after I met Ace in Chicago. Outside of the truck being a monstrosity of a thing that we both struggled with it was further proof that we wouldn’t kill each other while spending extended periods together. Honest reccomendation from a lovesick fool; find yourself a partner that will belt out Paradise by the Dashboard Lights with you while driving through Iowa. It makes the hours fly.

Seth has been both a saint and a rock. He has blown me away with his consistency, from showing up and helping to pack up and move back in April to continually paying his share of rent when some of us weren’t able to. I was so afraid of asking him to be domestic, and to be domestic in a city at that. He moved to Oakland for me. He reminds me often that he wouldn’t have stayed if not for me. Our relationship reminds me of perfectly worn in leather; comfortable, and natural and an easy fit that feels so good. I partially think it’s because we’ve both been through the school of hard knocks, and having come so close to losing everything we are both so grateful for what we do have. He’s steady, warm, comforting. After a year and a half of being together instead of drifting apart we’ve gotten closer. There’s nothing about he and I that scares me and that’s.. refreshing.

I’ve gone from being completely on my own and barely able to keep a roof over my own to, while being tight, living with and in a family of my own. The kids and Ace’s other parter Aeonise joined us in California in June, and with their arrival my life completely changed. Aeonise and I are still learning how to communicate with one another and live together. She started dating Seth soon after the move in, and bless my Papa he’s been pacing the relationship so healthily. I suppose there’s been a bit of practice living with a partner while also trying to date them. He managed it with me. There have been some baubles, but that’s expected with all major life changes.

I love our two kids to death…but gods do kids change everything. They change priorities, energy levels, what comes first.. They’ve changed social schedules and when I can and cannot go out and what I can and cannot say. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Planning a wedding while working on grad school is.. exhausting. Gratifying. Stressful. While adjusting to a poly nesting family which is..apparently a rare thing? Whoops? While balacing other partners. As I mentioned. Life is..completely different.

I’m balancing life with my nesting partners and family as well as life dating other partners. I’ve had a girlfriend for over a year now, though we started calling each other partners in August officially. Joy blows me away. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, compassionate… and another partner I’ve connected with on chance. It happened two Surrenders ago, at a queer orgy. I had tried to set her up with Ace, who I knew was crushing on her and who was at the time visiting from North Carolina. She gave me this heart-melting grin and said, “Actually, I’ve had a crush on you for a couple of years now.” …and then after four years of friendship we ended up frantically making out for several hours. Since then the dates have become sweeter and sweeter, with the right sprinke of spice in between. I admit, I find it hard to get enough of My Lady. When we play, when we kiss, when we dance, it’s like the world falls away and it’s just she and I. My sweet Ace often mentiones how he likes seeing us together because the glow he sees makes him better understand why people comment about he and I.

Chris and I are still Chris and I, though our interractions are limited these days. There is a lot of love, though sometimes little spoons and time on both our sides. What I have always been grateful for with mine and Chris’s interractions are that when we are together we slip back in to he and I, and when we are apart we support one another best we can.

I’ve cut ties with two familiar figures from this blog, Cal and Ryan. Ryan.. is probably the first parter that I have regrets with. I try very hard to live without them. I regret not noting how manipulative he was earlier. I regret beign so blind and submissive and desperate for his attention and love when he used me and manipulated me. I don’t regret writing the letter that got him formally banned from parts of the community, as, unfortunately, I was one of several that fell into a pattern with him. He almost destroyed me. I wouldn’t let him do that to others more innocent where I could help it. James chides me for beating myself up about Ryan on the regular. He reminds me often that sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way. I hate it when that asshole is right sometimes.

The other figure I am no longer in contact with is, ironically, the person that started all of this. I’ve cut ties with Cal. Not formally. But I no longer speak to him, nor have any desire to interract with him when we are at shared events. A lot was leading up to that. A couple botched scenes. Continual nights at BaGG where I would watch him drink until his own mental disorders were out of control and then have to go to bat for him with another manager in order to keep him from getting banned. And then he began talking about the 18 year old long distance partner he was courting. He was goign to take her virginity, since if he didn’t do it someone else worse would probably do it. So he might as well give her what she wanted. Cal has teenage daughters. I lost all respect for him when he went through with the deed, marking this poor girl for life. I’m still shaking off some of the echos of Cal and it’s been years. I was FAR from a virgin. I wish the poor girl as well as his other partners luck. I do not wish him ill, but I find nothing safe or comforting about his company any longer.

The world has continued to spin, even as I’ve run out of time to write time and time again.

Tonight, as I purged through my clothes, I found remnants of other me’s. Girly dresses I had worn to make Ryan happy. The polka dot pin up dress Chris had purchased for a date, which remains safely hung in my closet. A couple nerdy pattern dressed that went back to the days of me being James’s. So many different versions of me. For the first time I had very little trouble purging out the unused or little worn clothing, the echos of Rene’s past. It felt good to clear out the cobwebs; to find in the piles of folded fabric what I wanted to cover myself in.

I am different. Life is different. And with that, it’s time for a different blog. I will make sure, as I transition things over, that this archive is reachable for those that want to keep reading it. My kinky journey has far from ended; it’s just no longer at its beginning. I’m quite a fewf chapters in at this point.

Speaking of my kinky journey… there is the matter of James.

There has been a twisting, winding road with he and I. There were many points where we likely should have left each other be and not shared space. Four years after my collar came off we are healthier than we have ever been. We share space weekly, with the ritual of BaGG remaining a staple in my life and now in Ace’s and Seth’s as well (with Aeonyse waiting until we have a steady babysitter so that she may also go regularly). The playing-not-playing has been a common occurance for a couple of years. But, we’ve gone from me sitting near him if there’s space to me sitting by his feet to him making space so I could sit by his feet. To sharing the couch and cuddling.

I’ve asked him to be in my wedding. That, too, was a gradual process. It started with asking him to be my photographer. And then he had so many wheelchair issues that I hired a backup to let him be a little bit of a guest. And then my matron of honor told me she wouldn’t be able to come out for the wedding. I could have let the spot open. It would have actually evened out the sides of the aisles. Instead, I asked James to stand up there with me. To be my Man of Honor. I told him straight out that under no cicumstance should we stand across the aisle from one another, and under no circumstance should he stand across the aisle from ANYONE, but having him up there with me would mean more than the world. It would mean that he actually approved of who I was legally bound to. He trusted who would be catching me regularly.

He said yes. And then I asked him if we could actually start playing again. Regularly.

And he said yes to that too. We have a play date later this month. The first one we’ve had for three and a half years.

And so my journey continues, no longer fresh and new. There’s a bit of jade in my eye now. Nonetheless, I very much adore my big, fat, poly, kinky life. Even when I am exhausted and drained.

Until the next chapter I remain, as always, yours.

~Rene

 

 

A Kindness to Ones-Self

Sundays are usually spent at home these days.

They were once spent with Ryan, almost religiously, but these days they are often spent with myself, attempting to slowly shift through way too many belongings while I prepare for the big move in May.

There are certain habits that I have that drive me crazy, a big one being that I struggle with putting clothing away. Washing it? Great. Folding it? I got that too. Putting it back in my closet for my cat to knock off the shelves? Ehhh…

Recently Ace got me to sign up for a smart phone app, Habitica, that keeps me on task. It lists out all that I need to do for the day, and a big one with a big scary red “it’s been sitting here for a while” alert is ‘put clothing away’. So today I went into my room and started the seemingly endless task of removing clothing from my bedroom floor.

Underneath the mundane clothing buried I found treasures that I had forgotten about, or tried to forget about. Sparkly bras, my favorite garter belt and fish nets. My Hello Kitty backpack with the CBD oil I had been looking for for MONTHS, the jawbreaker flavored one. Toys that I had loved and then lost, or so I thoughts. Little gear that I thought I hadn’t been ready to look at yet.

It’s odd moments like this that my brain finally has those click into place moments. I had buried my treasures underneath depression wrapped in a mountain of clothing. I had protected myself out of instinct with bad habits to avoid the pain that my mind had decided I wasn’t ready for.

One by one, I picked up the garments. I found my floor, and put what could be put away back in its place. I let myself be happy and sad looking at toys and outfits that brought back memories; some I was ready for, some I wasn’t. But I wasn’t numb anymore. I let myself feel, and wasn’t overwhelmed with feeling.

I am not okay, and I’m aware. But I’m healing. I can look myself in the mirror and admit that I have been emotionally abused. I can admit that I have been used, and that I love a narcissist. It doesn’t make these truths any easier, but I can be realistic in thinking about them.

I don’t know what I’ll do with any of this yet, other than go day by day, try to heal. And know that I am worth so much more.

I am slowly getting my grove back, even with broken and banged up edges. And somehow, I will be okay. With one bit of kindness to myself at a time.

Until then, dear reader, I am healing. And I am yours.

-Rene

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