8:39 a.m. - 2003-07-24
gripe gone long (and gripe negated)
It's Thursday! That means that tomorrow I only have to work a half day! JOY! :)
I was randomly clicking on banners last night and thought about the fact that I used to write long long entries like some of these other people do. Then I thought, "Well what in the world do I have to write about that would be such a huge entry as this one?" (I was viewing the diary from the pink banner for a site by a lesbian (or perhaps a couple, I'm not sure) which I can't seem, for the life of me to get back even after refreshing a million times... funny, it popped up ALL the time last night!) But then again, I suppose if I shut off my mind and just wrote I'd find something that particularly struck me profoundly enough that I could spend time pontificating on said point.
It's not that I particularly miss the time I used to have to sit and spend writing. I do, however, miss being able to have certain things provoke me into writing. A new way of thinking about things, learning new things about myself and the lifestyle I have chosen to persue (or better said, that has chosen me), the maddness and insanity that seemed never ending in the beginning and that slowly became more and more the norm and less insane.
Here's a strange analogy that I just thought of. When you mix vanilla ice cream with chocolate ice cream it always takes on the color or at least the tint of the chocolate...
*ponders*
I suppose some of you now think that I've completely lost my mind. Well, that's okay, but really, this thought is connected with something.
I was married vanilla, monogamous to a very wonderful man indeed. We were together for 5 years and then we got married. Around that time I started finding the lifestyle. Started doing more research, learning and finding things in myself that had always been there but that didn't make too much sense at all really until someone put form around them.
I learned about polyamory and was floored to see that I could find in myself numerous occassions where I fit right into this category as well! I was astounded!
I started exlporing my more chocolate side. Online I'd play with people in the D/s sense. I'd take orders, we'd net sex (oh those were the days of late nights and wet spots on the dorm chairs!) in scenes that would involve various kinky-type scenes with bondage and extreme kinks. I was adventuring. I was learning what people were into. I found Him. We met. My life changed.
I went from vanilla to chocolate in about a range of 6 months, maybe even less depending on how you choose to count the timeline and when you'd classify me as chocolate. (Maybe I was always chocolate on the inside and just vanilla on the outside... yeah... i was definately a truffle...).
Once I figured out that mind fucks were my thing and realized that He was definately the Master of such things as far as my brain went, I think I was done for. In my head though, I was still convinced that I could make my husband understand and preserve my vanilla marriage while serving my Master. *sighs* Those were such very sad days.
I didn't tell my husband at first the things that I was getting into in real life. He would have never understood. And I prove that theory 120% correct the first time I started introducing him to the things I was starting to enjoy. He didn't understand. Not a single bit of it. He couldn't understand why I'd want those things to be done to me. He couldn't understand why it couldn't be him.
That was an EASY one for me to answer. In our relationship I had -ALWAYS- been the "top". I was the boss. What I said went. That had always been my way. I was a control freak and I tended to attract or flock to people who I could easily control. The thought that he would ever raise a hand to me made me livid with both anger and repulsion.
It made me sad that he really couldn't fill that place in my life because I love him dearly. I always will. As time went on, we started to argue more. He started playing the guilting game which worked quite well for a very long time. I kept my mouth shut. Mastered the tactic of answering only the question asked. I became adept at putting on the happily married couple face around friends and family that wouldn't have guessed in a million years that something could possibly be wrong in the blissful marriage... *sighs again* He delluded himself, which made me sad. Kept pretending it would go away. It didn't, of course.
I was laid off for a month and a half shortly after our 1st year anniversary. I spent the majority of my time either online or with He and Jenny somewhere. Life became a twisted story of double and triple lives. Tumultuous doesn't even begin to describe the mess that my life and brain became. I was caught between planes, and the twisting and pulling of either side couldn't even be drowned out by squeezing my eyes shut and ignoring it all. It was always there. Always distracting. Always frustrating.
Just prior to being laid off Jeff had come to visit. That was about the time when my realization rolled over and I was struck dumb with the obviousness and the need to be in the lifestyle. The need to be slave. The absolute need to be His. I have wondered for a very long time if some other combination of people could have brought me to that point so quickly. My answer is, after many many months of thought on this subject, is no. I believe He and Jeff were the ones. My key. The perfect combination to unlock my slavegirl and change my life dramatically.
The month and a half off was a turning point where I started moving on, while my husband was drifting behind further and further away, lost in his denial.
And then came the new job. I was fortunate as all hell to land the interview and getting hired was a miracle beyond miracles! I was gainfully employed again! When I started here though... things were a mess. I had but two weeks of training with a gentleman who knew a little about what he was doing and just enough to get me started... then he left. My nights became late ones. Sometimes I wouldn't get home until 2 in the morning and I'd be off again as soon as I could wake up the next morning.
This caused arguments to brew. It became more and more obvious how much he was trying to get me to stay at home with him. He had been sly about it up until this point when desperation seemed to sink in and suddenly he ws angry at me with the stupidest things. Why wasn't I home to make him dinner?! Why wasn't I home to do the dishes and the laundry!? Why hadn't I washed the floor!? Why was there no toilet paper in the bathroom!? It turned into petty agruments and one night all hell broke loose.
I'll never forget that night because it was the night I broke my heart and his all at the same time, all in the same moment, when, while he was screaming at me, I ripped my rings off my finger and threw them at him screaming madly back at him.
Silence.
A silence so profound that nothing could have broken it.
I'm sad just thinking about it.
I remember the scene well. He, staring at them as they had fallen to the floor, relatively next to each other for their varied weights. I had refused to look at the rings on the floor, instead, fiercely concentrated on his face. When I did drop my eyes, when I realized he wouldn't meet my eyes, my heart shattered at seeing my rings at his feet. I love him. I loved those rings. They weren't perfect but neither were we.
Even though I had been in the guest room, ready to sleep there, I remember that I slept in our bed with him that night anyway... ringless. My rings were on the bureau in the guest room, where I placed them and told him I wouldn't wear them again. I don't remember that conversation. I don't really remember much about the whole situation after seeing my rings. I guess I put that away somewhere to haunt me later.
I just realized that I've never told this story before. I've never relived that night. Not in my head and not in anything I've written. I also realize that it's not -easy- for me to write about that night. It has given me a headache, mostly because it has taken incredible strength to make sure that I don't start crying here at work.
I moved out barely a month after I got my new job and that was the beginning of the permanent end. The end had started months before but moving out put the cap on it. I pretty much did it without telling very many people. My mom found out after I already had the place. I never said good bye to his family, though I wish I had been able to say good bye to some. I miss some of them, but that's how life works. People come in and people go out, sometimes rather quickly.
The guilt tripping on his part didn't end when I moved out. I would go up to see him, have dinner with him at least once every two weeks for a while, until I couldn't handle his behavior anymore. It was making me angry and I knew he was doing it all on purpose, to try to get me back with him, but he succeeded in doing nothing more than pushing me away more and more until I stopped visiting him. Explaining that it wasn't fair to either of us to put each other through this torture.
We corresponded electronically a little. I called once in a while. We got together a month or two, maybe even more later and he finally said to me that he felt like things were going to be okay. He told me that he was starting to be okay with the situation and was realizing that it wasn't the end of his life. And in a later conversation via yahoo messenger, he told me that he was glad that we could be friends like we were growing to be. I was glad to hear him say that.
Deep hate can be borne out of incredible love and I did not want that for us. I worked hard and sacrificed myself and my borderline sanity to be there as much as I could to make it through with him. We will never be together again. I can accept that, and now, so can he. I will always love him. That's just how love works. I am happy though, where I am. I have never been happier.
I made big sacrifices in my life to get here and I'm glad that I've found my "home" in His arms. He is my Master. He is my life. I am a lucky girl.
But going back to how this all started...
Inside of myself I had always seen a vanilla scoop of ice cream. When I stumbled into lifestyle information and started poking around at that ice cream ball inside me, I found that below the white surface lurked a core of chocolate. They started to blend. At first, only one side, leaving a vanilla side to display for all the world to see. But as time went on, the ball became more agitated and twisted and the choclate and vanilla mixed and my lives combined. I struck a balance between the two and now live a single life where to the majority of people I probably appear just lightly chocolate, definately different but not obviously that deep chocolate.
I don't doubt for a moment and wouldn't refute the fact that there are still a few untouched vanilla patches. After all, I'm not out to everyone, mostly my family. But all in all, I've turned that ball inside me into a striped blend of the chocolate and vanilla. Darker in some places, lighter in the other and ever changing.
I hope someday it will all be able to blend together and I can just be me. Content. Happy. Free within my bonds.
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I suppose I have just duped myself...
I started writing this entry discussing the desire to be able to write lengthy entries again. I guess perhaps I just need to dig a little deeper into those things that have happened in my life that I've never really talked about much.
I don't think this ever would have come up had H not appeared in our lives. I can't even begin to discuss the sadness that it brings to my heart to hear that they are going through a similar situation to that which I went through. She is lucky though (and I know that she knows this) that she was able to talk to him about it in the beginning and have his support to explore. I was never that lucky. I don't, however, believe that it would have ended any differently for me if I had been able to talk to my husband about it. I would still be where I am today.
I find myself dancing in between the lines of hoping they can strike a balance and the experienced-realist in me saying, "Here goes another one!". It's nearly as dreadful watching someone else go through it.
I hope that I can be helpful to her. My stories are dark and deep and could potentially add to her own darkness but that's not why they are here now and only just now. I find that I'm not telling them for her benefit but instead, finding that she's just bringing them out in me with her own situation.
I am healing again.
It is welcomed.
I have been writing for over an hour and a half now. I seem to have gotten lost in my frenzy to get words onto this screen. Rest assured I'm going to copy it all into word before I go clicking 'done!'.
I feel calm.
I like that. It is also welcome.
I needed that.
