So…lazy bloggers will say that life gets in the way of, well, blogging. And we’ll make all these asinine promises to blog on through. But reality happens, sometimes things are too raw, sometimes things are too close to home to be dealt with in a semi-public forum. Or a private forum. Or at all. I apologize that shit happens, but honestly, I wasn’t really in a place to share much up until this moment.
So, quick run down? I’m single again. Some things just don’t work out. Sometimes we get blindsided by hormones, attraction, sex, great sex, kinky sex, and nice eyes and we don’t allow ourselves to see the warning signs. I need that robot from Lost In Space, “Danger, ShelbySue.” Seriously though, this is not about my former partner being a bad person or me being superior in any way, it just happens that not every two people who want each other are good together.
Okay, that’s over and dealt with. I’m not going to address that again if I can help it because it’s emotional, and, well, I’ve got enough emotional shit in my life. Let’s move on to some fun stuff, shall we? I played a couple of nights ago. Not in a light, jovial, 10 minute spanking kind of way. I played for an extended period of time with lots of implements until I couldn’t moan anymore, until I couldn’t sing and warble and I was left panting. And it was amazing. I tend to put my own needs last and I realized, sitting on the couch at a munch, little and wrapped in a blanket, that it’s okay to need play. I say these things to other people, to other bottoms and submissives. I tell them, it’s normal to, once you come to terms with your needs and desires, need to play to stay sane, to purge ugly shit and, if it’s your thing, atone. I keep everything coiled up so tightly so I don’t drop my basket, but I realized it’s that tight coil that causes my apples to scatter across the ground. I have a tendency to take on too much, to help when I can, and even when I can’t. I sometimes think I’m Atlas, and the world can rest safely on my small shoulders. Then I realize, as it tumbles off and rolls away that I have lost my delicate mind and I have no idea how in the fancy fuck to get it back. This is where play comes in for me. Don’t mistake me, I’m not at a point where I need to be put in a hug-me coat, but I get spun out. And once I play, really play hard until I lose the words and can’t follow what’s going on around me, that’s where I find myself again. And it never fails that afterwards I’ll tell myself I won’t wait that long to play, but I just had the epiphany that I don’t cut myself as much slack as I demand others cut themselves. I sit and talk with others, listening to them describe the very same situation I am in, and I tell them to play more, to get their kink out more, to get outside of their heads for a while more often, but I never take my own advice. I’m going to start taking my own advice more often, because hot damn, not only do I feel immeasurably better, but I had a fucking blast, and I need that kind of fun more often!
For those of you who are still with me, thanks for sticking around, and for those I lost in my quagmire of blech, well, that’s my loss. I’m going to be better about taking care of me, and that just might involve blogging more often, in fact I’m fairly certain it will.