Insomnia . . .

I have suffered from insomnia since my mid teens.

25 years later, I still do.

You would think that I would be used to it by now.  Except some nights, like tonight, it is just extremely frustrating not being able to sleep.  I was just drifting off when there was a huge noise and banging outside in the garden, it startled me as I had the windows open and am also in a bungalow, so it always makes me on edge.

The noise startled me, it woke the dogs who in turn started barking, only for me to discover that a neighbours cat was attacking one of my kittens.  So, I put a t-shirt on and venture bare footed out into the garden to come to his rescue.

He likes to be out and about, and in this warm weather we hardly see him.  He likes to curl up outside on the decking or in a hedge and he falls into the deepest of sleeps.  Except tonight, he decided that he was going to disturb us all, and now I am awake and can't get to sleep.

It's hot.

There's no air. And even the fans don't help.  Times such as this that I wish we had air conditioning ~ one thing I always like when we go away on holiday, is the ability to really cool off the room.  It really is quite suffocating and if it wasn't for the nasty things flying around in the air, I would head out into the garden to sleep!

And now it is approaching 4am.

The alarm will go off in 2 hours and another busy day in the office lies ahead, as well as the fact that it is grooming day for the dogs, so I have to travel across town first thing and again at lunchtime so they can have their bi monthly groom.  Ah, what I wouldn't give for a few hours of pampering and attention like that! lol

Work is chaotically busy right now, and the news this week of a VAT inspection next week, really hasn't helped matters.  It seems to be that everything has to happen at the worst time.  It is only a few weeks until I am due to have surgery ~ another thing which as time goes by, messes with the ability to sleep.

My deep fear of anaesthetic plays heavily on my mind and as the date draws nearer it is even harder.  I have even had to scour the country to find a surgeon who has a zero mortality rate, and while I could have the surgery done on the NHS, it really isn't an option if I cannot have that.  So, I have found someone who has that rate, but certainly has a price tag to go with it.  Another hassle, another thing to sit in the mind, another thing to go whirling around in the head when reality is, it's time to sleep.

A nice long head massage, a foot rub, someone playing with my hair . . .gently scratching my back . . .all of the things which can deeply relax me, moments of closeness and intimacy, and it is these things I miss.  That ability for something and indeed someone to help take away the pressures of the day, to help take away the pressures of life.  Simple things it may seem, yet things which have a real meaning, but play a real important part in things too.

They are things that I miss.  Simple things.  No grand gestures, but somethings which can actually express a great deal more.

And when the insomnia kicks in to the level it is tonight, what I wouldn't give for just one of those things, to help empty the mind, relax the body, and bring on the sleep!

I would say, goodnight, but as the sun is already getting up to start another day, and I haven't even made it to bed yet, perhaps I should just say good morning and wish you all a good day!

But thank god its friday!

Risk

"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go"

T.S. Elliot

True.

So very true.

It isn't easy to take risks.  But if we don't put ourselves out there, if we don't take them, we will not only never know how far we can go, we will never get how far we want to go.

Belt

She didn't have to say a word, the look from her eyes said it all.  The way her hand held the belt made him shiver.

It had been a while since he had last felt the touch of leather, the mark was one he had worn for days and the memory even now made the sense of fear build in the pit of his stomach, he moved his legs as he felt himself begin to harden.

His mouth was dry, he couldn't speak, his lips parting to utter the words except nothing could come out.

She moved slowly towards him, her eyes not leaving his for one moment.

She reached down, feeling his hardness inside the black silk panties she had left for him to wear.  He couldn't even groan, but the desire within his eyes said more than enough.

She leant forward, kissing him deeply, her hand fisting in his hair bringing him closer.  As she stepped back, she placed the belt in front of his lowered eyes.

He kissed it.

He knew what was coming next.






*where my thoughts were today*

More balanced? Whatever . . . .

I follow a blog called "worshipping your wife" HERE  and they have recently handed over their blog to some guest columnists, (and I will continue to follow with a renewed interest) but it is now in the hands of "Nancy and Dennis" a couple who actively live an FLR marriage and are activists in promoting such a dynamic.

This is, in some ways for me,  a relationship that is just bliss ~ a reflection of FLRs, what they are and how they work.  And reading their first introductory post here it expresses so much of how it is. I found myself nodding at their dynamic, of how it is set up and how it works for them.

I don't know if I share their feelings in relation to the term "progressive" because I don't ultimately feel that would reflect my own dynamic, I think FLR covers that quite perfectly, but I shall most certainly be following this blog with a renewed interest.

If FLR's are for you, or if you're considering, thinking or already following an FLR, it is certainly a most interesting blog to check out!

Anyway . . .time for the rant . . . !!!


One thing that did annoy me tho and it isn't the first time, it most certainly won't be the last,  was an anonymous comment from someone who fine, fair enough, doesn't follow or want an FLR, but someone who chooses to state that his relationship, because he is in control and is the "big strong man" who leads the household, that his relationship is more balanced than how Nancy and Dennis describe their FLR.

Who is this anonymous person to say his relationship, his dynamic is more balanced??  Fuck me!

Who is anyone to say that their relationship is more balanced/better/greater/stronger/ *enter any thing you want to here* than anyone else's??

It really does get right up my nose when people start making these statements.  It is like those who say that D/s relationships are deeper/stronger/have a stronger bond compared to other relationships. Or that when a D/s relationship ends, its harder to cope with.

BULLSHIT!

It isn't.

These relationships are as they are.  They follow different dynamics, but it doesn't make one stronger, or better. It doesn't make people in one type of relationship better than the other, more balanced than the other.  Why do people feel drawn to saying that their relationship or lifestyle choices are better than anyone elses?

This anonymous commenter, says that the lifestyle choice of an FLR

"sounds like a form of torture to me"

and fine, yes maybe for you it is. And that is fine.  It maybe great that his wife loves her

"big strong man to lean on",

but my god, that to me suggests that a woman being in control does so over a "weak" man, and that because a man chooses to defer to a woman strips him of his strength, and that the woman neither has someone to lean on, or couldn't lean on her man!

BULLSHIT!

Absolute bullshit! 

He goes on to say

"It feels great using my wit, intelligence and understanding to lead our house and my wife revels in it also."

Great.  And I mean it.  It is great that he feels as he does and his wife revels in it.  But people in FLR's, men in FLRs aren't stripped of their wite, their intelligence, just because they do not lead the household doesn't make them lose anything. But neither does it, Mr Anon, make your relationship more "balanced" than anyone elses.

It doesn't make yours anymore "anything" over anyone elses!  Just because you choose to follow a certain way of living Mr Anon really doesn't make your way better, more stable, stronger, or more balanced.

It just means it is right for you.  Just as the way other people live is right for them. 

Mr Anon goes on to say;
OMFG!!

"Only i say our relationship is more balanced than how you describe yours. Anyway good luck with your own marriage, respect others and be happy."

I think it is you, Mr Anon that needs to respect others. Respect others choices.  And accept that just because you live your life one way, doesn't make it better than anyone elses. Who is to say yours is more balanced?

It isn't.

So a big bowl of FUCK YOU!

*rant over* LOL

Beyond the guilt and shame

"I feel guilty and shame" he told me the other night.

"Guilt and shame for the needs that I have. For the things that I want or need to do.  I cannot leave behind the baggage that people place, that society places.  But, there is also something of feeling that guilt and shame when I do the things that I do, and I cannot imagine what it would be like to be freely ok with the needs that I have.  I am scared that if I let those feelings go, if I can get past them, of how I will feel".

Liberated?

Free?

To be free from guilt and to carry now shame about the things that you want or need?

I think a lot of us worry, about how it would be if we ever got to a place of not having that shame or guilt about the needs that we have.  I worried that things would be boring, would never be enough and that if I accepted everything that I did that it would lose its interest, lose its excitement, that it would take all of the feeling out of it all.

It hasn't.

It doesn't.

You just get to enjoy the things that you like and want and need, without feeling guilty. Without feeling shame.  I have felt liberated.  Accepted. Free.

This conversation, really reminded me of something that I had read a long time ago, by Guy New York and I pointed this person I was having the conversation with in the direction of this specific piece of writing.

"Beyond guilt and shame"

In my dreams of liberated sex without fear, guilt, or shame I find an underlying anxiety that is more troublesome.  Beneath the struggle of leaving behind my cultural baggage is the worry that if I am successful in moving past the guilt and the shame I will be left with sex that is dry, dispassionate, and uninspiring. 

It’s the same fear that comes to writers when we think we need to live the mythic life of the artist and all that it entails.  It’s the fear that comes to musicians when we hide behind drugs and alcohol. 


It’s the fear that left all alone without our worries we just may not be good enough.


I’ve seen glimpses of the other side though, and I can tell you it’s all a lie.  On the other side of shame and all the other stories we’re told and accept is something remarkable.  On the other side of guilt is sex that is wild, kinky, and powerful. On the other side of shame, and fear, there is love, honesty, and passion.   On the other side, there is sex full of mind-blowing orgasms that leave us trembling, shaking and begging for more.
—Guy New York

I am on the other side.

I don't have that guilt or shame.

I don't have the fear of what people will think.  I accept what I am, what I need. Just as I accept other people for what they need.

On the other side there is love, honesty, passion, there is that sex of mind blowing orgasms, but there's also a whole lot more beside . . .losing the guilt and the shame doesn't take away from anything.  It just allows you to enjoy it all in a different way, in a liberated way.  It allows you to be who you are, what you are, what you need to be.

But more so, it allows you to be free.

My hand, tightens around his throat bringing his face up to meet my own.

My moans are muffled as I reach in and kiss him deeply. Between each kiss he gasps for air and moans as my leg grinds against his cock.

I can feel a pressure building inside my head, blood pounding through my body.  My body feels alive. A scream erupts from your throat which I silence with my mouth upon your own and a tightening hand around your throat.  You gasp and move yourself faster and harder against my leg.

My hand reaches into your hair, twisting it, pulling you in closer; tighter; harder as my mouth denies you of air.  You gasp at any opportunity, struggling for breath you plead.  I kiss you harder, my body beginning to convulse from the orgasm that waves over me.  I am coming and yet feel as if I am dying.  Your pleading is weak, muffled.

I feel your body tense, your cock swell as you rub against me even harder.  Your eyes filled with fear, disorientated, arousal as you beg and plead.  The release from your body takes with it the tension and pressure.

Slowly the air returns to your lungs.

Mine

I remember the first time, as if it were yesterday.  I remember not knowing what to expect, not knowing how it would be, the sense of fear so overwhelming I could hardly breathe.

I remember you took my breath away.

I remember how it felt to be there, with you, to place myself into your hands with a level of trust so deep; I had never felt so scared yet so safe all at once.

I remember the first time you touched me and the sensations it sent right through my body.  I remember looking into your eyes and the look going straight between my legs.

I remember the way it felt when you covered my eyes with your hands, plunging me into a darkness that only served to heighten my other senses, before you carefully placed the mask over my head.

I remember the anticipation I felt as I was there knelt before you. The fear, the arousal, the sense and the fear of the unknown and of you.  I remember you leaning over me, whispering in my ear, telling me that you were going to hurt me. 

I remember how those few words made me feel. But more than that, I remember how every moment of the first time made me feel.

I remember the way it felt as it made contact with my skin, I remember the electricity that passed through my body as I cried out from the pain that you caused with the cane that you used so expertly.

I remember the way it felt as the initial shock melted away within my body, the feelings spreading through my body like ripples on a lake, as it sent me cascading over the edge like a waterfall over a cliff.

I remember the way it felt as you covered me with your body, holding me close, letting me know that you were going to do it again.  I remember the way that you took my face in your hands, bringing my eyes up to meet your own and the way that I could see deep within you, the longing, the desire deep from within your soul.  I remember crying out as the pain seared through my skin and into the depths of my body.  I remember the gasps that left my mouth, the groan that escaped from my throat, I remember the tears as they quietly poured over my cheeks and onto the pillow beneath me.

I remember how it felt, when you reached down and touched me, my own wetness betraying the arousal of my body, of how sensitive my skin was to touch; to your touch. I remember your touch, the way your fingers felt against my skin, how your nails felt as they gently traced a pattern over my shoulders and down my back.  I remember the burning pain as your nails broke my skin as your other hand reached up and twisted my hair in your fist. I remember the pain searing through my head as you dragged me to my knees by my hair.

I remember how it felt when you touched me gently, with love and tenderness.  The insatiable look within your eyes as your beast prowled within, showing me that you had only just started; that you wanted to hurt me so much more.  I remember how it felt when you hit me, slapped me, bruised me, the sting of the leather as it made contact with my thighs; my ass and my breasts.

I remember as I began to float outside of my body, watching you hurting me.  Watching myself lost to the moment of exquisite pain.  I remember the marks covering my skin, the welts from your cane, the hand shaped bruise on the cheeks of my ass and the marks of the crop in little patterns over my thighs.  I remember the taste of blood from the cut on my lip, the way my cheeks stung from the intensity of your slaps.

I remember the marks around my wrist from the rope you had tied me with, the redness and soreness from where I had fought against those ties, trying to escape from your brutality.  I remember the way my legs ached from being restrained by the bar, which had pushed them open wider than was naturally comfortable.

I remember you holding me, the way it felt when you stroked my hair as I curled up in a ball shaking and shivering while my body and mind desperately fought to reconnect.  I remember begging you, pleading with you, screaming at you, then thanking you.

I remember being before you, in front of you, knelt before you. I remember your arms holding me up as my legs crumbled beneath me, the way my body shivered at your touch.  I remember your voice, the names that you called me as I hated you, despised you, being angry at you. I remember wanting you, needing you, feeling you, loving you.

I remember the taste of you, the smell of you, the intensity of your touch.  I remember your desire, your arousal, your need as you took what you wanted, what you needed, however you needed.

I remember through the pain and the tears, through the way that you had broken me, that I told you that I loved you.

I remember you shouting "MINE".

He knows what she wants.

She stood in front of him, pushing herself back towards his face as he knelt on the floor behind her.  His arm reached up to embrace her, reaching around her thighs and the gentle roundness of her hips.

He pulls her closer, willing her nearer.

He begins to feast upon her skin, devouring her, tasting her, his face nestled against her softness and the curves of her body.

He enjoys the feel of her, his fingers digging into her flesh, his tongue flicking quickly over her hips while his hand is gently placed around the curves of her ass.

He groans when she thrusts herself backwards towards his mouth, he knows she is willing him on, and he is hungry for her.  She turns slightly, her movement giving directions to him without a spoken word.

He knows what she wants.

He tastes her.

He smells her.

He fills his nose and his lungs with the scent that comes from her arousal.  He pulls her closer, drinking in every inch of her body as he nestles closer to her, he is lost in a moment of intoxicating arousal, as she pushes herself backwards against him further, taking him under her spell.

He is lost to her, taken by her, he worships her, caressing her skin with his mouth, his tongue and his soft hands.

His mouth works over the curves of her ass as he breathes her in deeply.  Her arousal which mirrors his own, makes him crave even more for her, and he slowly moves around to where he knows she wants him to be until his tongue finds its place deep inside her.

A deep moan escapes from her throat.  She pushes herself back to him, willing him in deeper and deeper.

He knows what she wants.

Flowing juices

For the first time in a long time, the juices have begun to flow.

Flowing freely in a way they haven't done for a while.

I've missed it.  I've missed the feelings that I get from it, the way it feels when they flow and how when it does, it takes every thought, feeling and emotion with it . . .

It really has been a long time.  It feels even longer. I've battled with the lack of it all.  I've sat here, tried to get the juices flowing once more but it is like being in a drought. 

Nothing. No-one. Has been able to make them flow.

But thankfully . . they are beginning to flow again . .

How thankful I am to see my creative juices.  How relieved I am as I start to write. As the words start flowing freely, without thought, without force, it is a relief.

If only when they are overflowing I could bottle them up and keep them for the times that I hit that block, that barrier. It is frustrating when I want to write but it just doesn't happen.  I hate it even more so when it happens when I am beginning to write something that I really want to write.

The book.

Started. Block.

Unfinished.

I wonder if I will ever get back to being able to write. To being able to finish it.  If I could bottle up those creative juices, I could take the top off and let them flow when the barriers block my way.

I hate it when a complete stop is placed on those creative juices, when they stop flowing. Something, or someone blocks those thoughts, and there they remain on hold, until something, or someone, opens the floodgates once more.

I want to write.  I need to write. I love words and the images they create. The feelings they bring, the emotions they can express.

Word Whore.

I need a lot of things right now as I am beginning to discover, it is like the floodgates to a whole host of things have been opened.  The beast prowls. The flame is burning. 

I need.

Fantasies made real.




Lauren Bentley ~ "where I buried my secrets"

Buried secrets.
Or more so, buried fantasies. 

The ones that live in the dark recess of your mind, the ones that you're too scared to voice for fear that the person that you're opening up to runs in the opposite direction.

Fantasies with images that we masturbate to, images that form in our minds which bring us to the release of an orgasm.  But often, fantasies of the taboo, of the extreme, of the things that we are perhaps less likely to do if the opportunity were to arise.

My own fantasies have followed a similar path, a similar trajectory.  They have and are at times, really in the darkest of places.

And it has been like this for as far back as I can remember.

Unlike some, my fantasies have never involved celebrities or even people I actually know, more often than not they have involved faceless people.  Not so much faceless, but more people that I do not know. Strangers.  People who do not judge the "act".  Many fantasies of doing wonderfully (but disgusting) things.  Lurid, arousing, but deeply hot!

Apparently, so I was reading recently nine out of 10 people have such fantasies, and the others are overwhelmed with shame or guilt or repressed.  I am thankful I do not fall into that tenth.  I am thankful that I have been given the gift to explore and to shed any of those feelings.

And yet, it seems that many people finding their way into or along the BDSM path, do deal with shame and guilt, shame and guilt over the feelings, the desires, the fantasies.  Society tells us so many things are wrong, that doing certain things makes us "disgusting" or "evil" or "dirty".  They attempt to make us ashamed of the thoughts, desires and feelings that we may have.

I am thankful that it has rarely been that way for me! Why should I feel guilty or ashamed of the things that arouse me, the things that I have wanted to experience?  Some maybe harder to accept, some things may take a while to understand before we explore.

But while 9 out of 10 people may have them, I wonder what percentage of people actually act on them?

I do.  I always have.

I was lucky to be able to play out so many of my fantasies with a very willing partner.  He may not have realised what he was letting himself in for to begin with, but, he was willing.  He was certainly up for exploring, for experiencing, and helping me to explore every fantasy scenario that I wanted to.  But, somehow, something was often missing.  Or at least it was back then. 

With time, I found out exactly what was missing, of why it never felt quite enough.  They were always a scene played out with a feeling of falseness.

Until I met someone who made that line between the fantasy and the reality blur, merge even.  Journeying together into the darkest of places, into the darkest recesses of my mind.  Delving into the dangerous territory that my fantasies led us to.  We were open, exposed, to the desire of exploring, a never ending but growing need to take it to the next level, of pushing that limit and walking down an even darker path.  The fantasies became a reality, the reality became even more real, taking away the fantasy that once lived within the mind, unleashing it, allowing it to be the reality I never thought it would be.

Dangerous territory.

A challenging one.  Succumbing to the ever growing desires and needs that came out of that darkness.  Changing it to the reality, taking it further.

It was like a drug, wanting more. Needing more.  Delving into the place where the secrets were buried allowing them to not only see daylight, but to be lived, to be felt.  The experiences brought different feelings.

I felt free.

Accepted.

But more so, that I was allowed to be who I was, what I was. What I am. Who I am.

Exploring the fantasies, taking them from the dark precipice of my mind, making them a reality stopped those guilt feelings.  Stripped away the shame, took away the self judgement.

I owned those fantasies.  I owned the experiences. I owned the changes that they brought to me.  In experiencing I was free to be who I am. Not scared of what people may think, but being able to be open, to share these parts of me without worrying what people may think. 

So many of us, fear judgement for the sexual desires that we have.  But these desires, allowing ourselves to be open to them, to experience them, gives us the chance to learn about ourselves, to self realisation, to becoming self assured.  They made me whole, complete, the person that I am.

But, I have a need to share.

I need to know the fantasies that exist deep within someones mind, I want (and need) them to be open to me, to share without guilt or shame.  To not feel fear or fear judgement. I do not judge.  After all, I have explored many things without that judgement that it is certainly something that I would never do.  Acceptance is important to me.  I want that person to be able to be the person that they are, to enable them to be the person that they are, but more so to accept them for the person that they are

And vice versa.

There is nothing wrong to having a "dark side". There is nothing wrong to explore the secrets of our mind, the place where those fantasies grow and exist.  I don't want that area to be uninhabited. I don't want the fantasies to be a place that is never explored.  They are places for exploring, for learning, for experiencing, for growing.

Do you remember in Greek mythology when Persephone is banished to the underworld? When she returns to the earth's surface she is accompanied by spring, a reference to rebirth, illumination and light from the things that she has experienced while being banished.

It is a gift. 

I was lucky that someone gave me some of the greatest gifts.  His understanding, his acceptance, his exploration of my own inner dark side (along with his!)

He gave me the gift of taking the fantasy and making it a reality.  Taking those inner thoughts and bringing them to the surface, inhabiting those darkest places. Giving them light.

He gave me a freedom that rarely comes.  He enabled me to be who I was, who I wanted to be.  And vice versa.  We didn't need a place to bury our secrets.  I no longer do.

We explored.  We accepted.  We were set free.

Knowing me . . .

Today, I have been told that I am "scarey", "intense" and also "difficult to read".

How strange that people who do not really know me, make such a judgement without really knowing. If they knew me, they would know otherwise.

Someone also told me that I am a woman who needs their own "Mr Grey".

I mean WTF would I want with a Mr Grey? They couldn't be further from the mark in reality could they?

It goes to show, that people do not know me at all.

Not in the slightest.

What is it about people who *think* that they know me?  The reality is that they don't. Not really.  There is only one person who has truly known me, who truly knows me, and that is long gone.  But then he learned things about me in a way that no-one else ever has before, and most certainly never will again.  That isn't to say that someone will not learn the same things about me, but will just learn in a completely different set of circumstances.

He has been on my mind a lot recently.  But then, he was my reality of Fifty Shades (without the financial wealth however!) and that seems to be the topic of everyone's conversation right now.

It is a strange feeling when someone knows you better than you know yourself.  That they can do something without you having to ask, because they just *know* what is needed at that moment in time.  It is a wonderful feeling when someone knows the look, the smile, the touch and doesn't need an explanation of what is behind it.  That you can be locked in a peaceful silence, no need for words and yet they still *know*.

A rare. But wonderful feeling. 

I miss that wonderful feeling.  But more than that, I think that I actually miss someone knowing me in that way. 

Life . . .

 . . .gets in the way huh?!

It certainly has for me of late, weeks have been busy with "life", with work, with all sorts of things . . .and then of course the holiday.  Although it was touch and go right up until the afternoon before we were due to travel after the mini man had a bit of an "accident" playing football the weekend before we were due to fly on the wednesday, and suffered a fractured elbow.  Not the greatest start to his return to playing football, having suffered an almost season long injury!

So, it was all very stressful, mixed with hospital appointments, a crazy work schedule and a week long school trip for mini man before we travelled ourselves.

I would like to say that our trip to Italy was 2 weeks of total bliss and relaxation . . .it wasn't, but Italy was fabulous!

I fell in love with Rome, and Venice was simply beautiful even though I had not felt drawn to it before we went.  I didn't enjoy the time at the Lake, but that wasn't because it wasn't beautiful.  We were blessed by beautiful weather, too hot on some days to do the things we really wanted, but with some wonderful Cities to visit, we could only touch the surface of the wonderful things to do and see.  It has certainly opened the door to repeat visits in the future, but seeing some of the wonderful sights of Rome and Venice and indeed Verona, where we travelled to from the lake to see the Amphitheatre and of course home to Romeo and Juliet!

Lots of wonderful food, some marvellous Italian wines, the most wonderful gelato you could ever eat.  But, it's been a while since we have travelled in Europe, and the prices have increased dramatically.  But, it was a wonderful trip, but very busy, so since returning we've been trying to "recover".

It is of course the season of holidays, end of school years but this time for us an end of a school "era" as mini man will move to secondary school in September.  It has been a whole round of school meetings, visits to the new school and now we are faced with a new uniform list that will no doubt cost us around £500, because yes, they really need two reversible rugby shirts, because yes, it really is possible to wear more than one at a time!

Gone are the days when you could buy plain white sports t-shirts, no, the school he is going to has now introduced specific items of uniform, all of them neatly embroidered with the school badge or colours and logo, and of course it takes it to being 4 times the price!

Still, I am incredibly proud of mini man, the results he achieved at his tests and also the end of year report that he brought home to me.  He whowever was disappointed, disappointed that he missed out on a specific grade by 1 mark. Even though the level he was at, isn't what is expected until at least another year . . .for him it wasn't good enough.  He reminds me very much of myself and how I was at school.  The perfectionist and who would never be happy with settling for anything less, trying the hardest was simply never good enough. 

I can see the pattern within him, even though I try all the time to get him to relax and not get stuck into that same pattern.  Nothing wrong with aiming high, but as long as he tries his hardest and does his best, then I hope that he will be happy. However, the competitiveness within him always makes him want to push himself a whole lot harder.

So, tomorrow is the last day of the school year, an end of year treat for him and 15 friends who are going to be picked up from school in a stretch limo, driven around and then head off for dinner, where we will be joined by another 4 children!  We must be mad!

Still, not a day . . not a moment goes by when I am not incredibly proud of the young man that grows before me, of the things that he does, the things that he achieves, but more so for the person that he is.  It can be a lot of pressure at times, being a single parent.  But I am lucky that we are incredibly close and have a wonderful relationship ~ as those teen years approach, I hope it continues!

So, it's been chaos, life has been chaotic.  Whether things will ease of a bit who knows.  As such, I haven't had time to blog, the writers block continues to be there and the motivation to write hasn't really been fired, however, I did finally decide that I really must get back into it. A book will not write itself!

And there has been some interesting contact recently on a "D/s" front, some very interesting conversations which has given real food for thought.

I really must make some time to taste such delights . . .