Friday, March 27, 2015

Retreat? No. Not This Time

    Last night I put myself through a brutal three hour workout. That in and of itself is not unusual. Not unusual at all. I was lonely, and angry with myself for being lonely, and needed to burn that anger and loneliness into the stratosphere with sweat and pain. That is not unusual either. I know I choose to live alone, and live a secluded life. So the loneliness really is on me.
    I do try, really. I put myself out there, meet new people, seek play partners. That is not difficult. I tell myself that satisfying the physical is enough. Brief interludes of  adult companionship, played out on a level playing field with spoken contract, rules, and expectations firmly in place. It is spoken aloud that these are not exclusive relationships, quite the opposite in fact. Not exclusive, though that is not my nature, being hardwired to be monogamous, so exclusivity on my end is a given. No risk of a broken heart, for mine has been broken too hard and too often. That is what I tell myself. But the risk is there. Social media helps fan the flames of discontent and sadness. I have a love/hate relationship with social media. It is too easy to see why plans are changed, or weekends are unavailable. Too easy to see friends confessing love and adoration for their chosen partners. Too easy to see as they search for more. Too easy to see plans being made, other promises to other people. I can lie to myself, but I won't. I can tell myself that there are other reasons for silence, emails left hanging without response, texts unanswered. But I won't lie to myself, not anymore. Lies, even to myself, are a sure road to devastation on one level or another.
    This is what sparked my anger last night. Anger at myself. No one else. No one else is lying to me, and that is a pleasant change. But I don't know that I am strong enough to face honesty. I don't know how strong is the armor carefully constructed around my heart. Not strong enough. Because I want to lie to myself, tell myself that there is love and romance out there for me. Something beyond friendship based on mutual desire and kink. I want to think that somewhere in the world is someone who will love me, want me, choose me. Choose Me. Someone who will choose me above all else. It is a silly, romantic notion that has managed to hold onto a tiny corner of my heart all these years. That silly notion that someone, someday will decide that I am The One. That deranged notion that someday I will find love. And it makes me angry that I let myself still believe this, since time and again I am proven wrong. Angry, tearful, lonely.
    This morning the anger is gone, with sore muscles to remind me of the intensity of my night. There is residual loneliness though. A residue that clings like a light coating of ash that seeps into every crevice, and can never seem to be completely swept away. So what is there to be done? Retreat from the world once again in a vain attempt to protect myself from pain? No, pain is just pain. At least that is the one lie I still allow myself. Retreat? No. Not this time. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Weird Country

    It is no secret that I struggle with my demons. They ride my back even in the best of times. True, there are times when my riders are light and unobtrusive. Other times they are the weight of the world. I have kept them starved and lightweight as best I can, but they have been feeding off of my stress and insecurities through the winter. I have begun to really feel their presence and attempts at regaining control. I fight them though. I get the bit in my teeth and refuse to relinquish control, but it is a losing battle. They saw at the reins until my mouth is sore and bloodied. They whisper hurtful things in my ear, attacking my self-esteem, my creativity, my sense of self, and optimism. They are so adept at finding the tiniest of chinks in my armor and inserting their clawed fingers, wriggling them in until they hit flesh and nerves. Little bastards, always looking for those vicious opportunities.
    This winter has been weird country for me. In the past I have had a job to keep me focused and on track, even as it has seemed to contribute by way of stress and sleep deprivation. Now, without the daily, Monday through Friday Grind I am adrift and floundering a bit. I am such a creature of habit and routine that when there is no schedule I seem incapable of truly taking advantage. On the plus side, I am sleeping enough, finally. But I feel as if I am squandering valuable time. Yes, I am staying busy, getting shit done, training twice daily, cooking epic meals for myself, meeting new friends, making a few pretty things to garner some cash. Despite the sleep, despite the training, despite the nutrition, I am still slipping deeper into that grey zone I am all too familiar with.
    Days flirting with the abyss, seeing the grey morass swirling around my feet. Hearing the sibilant hissing of my demons as they attempt to assert their dominance. Days such as these require just the gentlest of prods to send me teetering over the edge. There have been numerous such gentle prods over the last few weeks. Nothing cataclysmic or devastating, but more like the drip of water that wears away stone. I try to meet each little disappointment head on, instead I seem to take it on the chin. The last few days have seen me wanting to slink off to my room, crawl under my down comforter, turn off the light, curl into a little ball, and cry silently into my pillow. Despite new friendships I am feeling isolated, alone and lonely. I hate it when I let myself feel lonely. But I can't even tell you how often I have been alone and lonely in a crowd of people, and honestly, that is far worse than solitude.
     So, as usual, I sit at my keyboard, analyzing and dissecting, trying to bore down into the heart of the matter. Hoping, wishing to find the cause, the root, the blight at the heart of it all. Vivisection of me for all the world to see. Does it help? No, not really. Too often I have typed with a steady drip of tears spattering the backs of my hands even as I peck out a steady stream of insanity. Fortunately, those days are mostly past, but they still loom up out of the darkness for a surprise visit. Now, today, I am trying with every fiber of my being to get myself in check, silence the demons that seem hellbent on pushing me back over that familiar edge. It is a trip I have taken often enough that I recognize the path, and fight as best I can not to be dragged back down it again. I know I have the skills and weapons to put up a memorable fight, but g'damn I am tired of this constant battle. Once more into the breach, boys.

Saturday, March 14, 2015


    20/20 hindsight, older and wiser, time lending perspective. Call it what you will, but I have learned a valuable lesson over the last few years. Consider what to all eyes appears to be the Alpha Male: physically strong, swaggering, playing rough games, full of bravado and stories of exploits long past. These men want the world to see them as the strong, intimidating Alphas they think they are. I used to believe this. And yet even as I believed I still saw the chinks in their macho armor. Yes, strong and loud in the company of others of their ilk, but timid and indecisive in the real world. They have to tell you they are dominant, but they can't prove it with actions.
    This last year has taught me a different perspective. There is "alpha" and then there is dominant. The so-called alpha wishes he were dominant, and maybe within his small circle he is. But take him outside of his comfort zone and the only way he can prove his dominance is with unnecessary volume and acts of physical prowess. Yes, there is strength, but it is not dominance. I knew this, in my heart of hearts.
    But it was only recently, with a single sentence, that the whole concept fully gelled in my mind, "I won't be topped by anyone." This may not mean much to most people, but I knew the truth behind this simple statement. It is not about physical prowess, displays of physical strength, intimidating and bullying those that are smaller or weaker, loud stories oft repeated of past glories, arrogance. Those are the acts of a wannabe, a pretender to the throne, the sheep in wolf's clothing. I have learned that dominance has nothing to do with physical size and strength, but of inner confidence and power. Control and understanding, intelligence and discipline, honor and loyalty, pride and respect, self control and self respect. Tops and bottoms, Dominants and submissives. Simple words, complex relationships.
    It is interesting what you learn, stepping outside of the comfort zone. Amazing what you get when you understand yourself, accept who you are, and communicate openly with one who can appreciate who I am in my heart. It only took me a lifetime to find acceptance and understanding for who I truly am. And along with acceptance I found true respect, honesty, courtesy, and trust.