Poly/Open Relationships Advice [posted as the_sugarplumfairy, Sept.10]

[opening post on an IC thread.]

Hi! I'm looking for advice specifically from people who don't regard themselves as naturally poly, but who have found themselves in a poly/open relationship and have found ways to adapt, deal with, and embrace the situation. It might also be helpful to hear from those who are naturally poly but who've helped a partner to embrace that too.

I know that it's all about communication, communication, communication – and we are communicating! But I think it would be helpful to get some other perspectives.

I don't want advice along the lines of “he just wants to play the field, get rid of him, have some respect.” I don't want to get rid of him, I love him and he loves me. He's made the way he is, and that is with the capacity to love more than one person, and he will always be the kind to sleep around when he wants to. I love all of him. I want to find a way in which the emotional part of me feels at peace, at ease, and safe with the situation – which can then align with my rational sense which knows everything is alright… We will find a way for this to work for both of us, and your tips and advice might help us but we'll do it anyway.

I am finding the situation hard for a variety of reasons, and would welcome comments from those who've experienced and overcome (and if not overcome, what do you think was the reason why…?)

The first is an inate insecurity and low self-esteem in my character – a flaw in many respects, not just in this instance. But not being the 'only one' makes me feel less special, less worthy, less… Which I then justify because I feel less deserving…

The second is jealousy – he is mine, I'm a territorial being, and I don't like to share… (Actually, in the D/s sense I am his, but in this regard I'm finding it hard to make that the relevant part…)

The third is societal convention – it's not 'normal' to not be in a couple as defined as two people… (Now, logically, it's not normal to like getting the sh1t beaten out of you regularly and like kneeling at his feet, but I don't seem to have a problem with those things not being normal… just this..). Society would say “you're worth so much more, you deserve someone who will love only you…” which reinforces the first part about insecurity and self-esteem. But rationally I know this is an out-dated constriction which many of us (and non-kink people too) have broken free from.

I hope that made a bit of sense... So… any tips please oh lovely IC'ers…?

(edited to add, also posted on the poly group board, a kind suggestion from another IC'er )

Edited to add as the thread is now full: once again, thank you. Having re-read the thread and my original post, I realise that I didn't explicitly say that my partner was upfront with me from day 1 about his other relationships and what he wanted from an open relationship; and there have never been any restrictions on my playing with other girls either. I'm hugely grateful for all the comments and helpful suggestions by the contributors to this thread, thank you.

A very bad poem [posted as twisted_eros, Jul.11]

Knife, sharpened / little pressure / skin tears... / air out / blood trickles / beautifully welling up / like the tears in my eyes...

Stop, a moment / cut deeper? / a cut that won't heal, like the shard breaking open my heart? / or, pills and sleep...

Not to hurt anymore / not to be anymore / To be released.

I don't. / But I always think about it.

2 degrees out [posted as twisted_eros, Oct.09]

Wasn't planning to be back... but insomnia has drawn me out...

i'm not liking the world very much. That's ok, who ever said you were supposed to like it. But, i'm trapped. Tried running away. It didn't take. And i didn't get well either, like i was supposed to, like people think i have.

Can't seem to make this new life work. Can't not live. Always been a pleaser and too many people would be too upset with me, so that's not an option. So, can't run away, can't end it, got to stick it out. Sticking it out sucks. i don't have the energy to start fresh again.

There's a picture, i have it on my wall. She's a girl, stuck in time. A time, just over two years ago. Invincible, a cheeky, knowing smile. That girl had everything in front of her. She'd left her husband, she was just about to meet her first (and only so far as it turns out) Dom that evening. She was going to fulfill her life's dream. She'd recently lost a lot of weight and she loved her figure. She loved herself. Then it all got warped somehow. That girl, she was starting over, and she was excited by it. And it got screwed up in a very screwy way.

No reason to get excited by the future anymore. A friend said i was a cautionary tale. He meant it as a joke really but its kind of stuck in my head. It's true, somehow i managed to screw up the marriage, the four bedroom house, the career...

i can feel myself drawing away from my friends, not being totally myself with them, hiding from them the fact that i'm not happy. Because now i'm back, i'm supposed to be. i was on the phone for 3 hours with one friend last week; managed to keep from telling her the one thing that was on my mind, that i'd managed to break my own heart by falling in love with the one person i shouldn't have. She'd only have told me off, told me i wasn't in love, that it didn't happen.

i'm coasting through events, smiling, kissing, laughing, the life and soul of the party... inside i'm screaming. i've been a mill-stone around the necks of my friends, vanilla and kinky, for so long now... for two years pretty much... its time they had a break. When can i have mine?

i'm frightened, empty, tired... it's taken every ounce of strength i've had to get this far... i thought i was well again. i'm not going back to that. i'm just not. i might be 2 degrees off where i need to be now, but i'm going to get back there, i will. Because there simply isn't another option.

Dropping aka Depression [posted as twisted_eros, Jan.09]

Well, i know why i've dropped. Had a very helpful chat on the phone to the best man in the world last night when i started dropping. And i'm calmer now, but i can't pull out of it. Not at work. And given how tenuous that job is at the moment, i really should be. They think i'm working from home and there's a lot to be done, so might not be going to bed tonight as i haven't started yet. But i don't really care. It's like i want to lose everything, so i can justify being like this. Although, i think there's enough to justify it anyway, and mostly i think i'm doing really well, as i still keep trying. But, if it was down to me, really i wouldn't try anymore. Knowing how my friends would feel, and my family, keeps me trying. When i was a Samaritan they said this point was the most dangerous stage, when you're on the way up, but fall down and have the energy to question why you keep trying. So, i know why i've dropped at this moment. i know why this is a difficult stage for depression recovery. i know things CAN get better. But logic and emotion rarely meet, and i just want to run away to a different life because i'm really not a fan of this one. And i want a hug. A real one, not a virtual one.

Will it ever end? [posted as twisted_eros, Jan09]

Woke up crying. Went to sleep crying. Some days it just comes over me in waves. Felt for a while like it was getting better, but the pain inside just seems to be cutting me like a knife, tearing me apart from the inside, the emptiness and lonliness jeering at me.

Two years ago, i was 33, married, trying for a baby, big 4 bedroom house, good career. Not very happy. But then, i'm not happy now either. Now, i'm 35, single, renting a small flat, on a contract. Broken and damaged in ways i'm only beginning to comprehend. He's engaged and expecting the kid we were always going to have together.

i look back, and i don't know how this happened. Yes, i had to leave, neither of us were happy. But how did i lose everything? How did i lose my sanity? i used to be so strong, now all i am is fragile, jumping out of my skin when a car door slams outside the window. Would it all be different if last April hadn't happened? When will i ever recover from that? Will i?

i don't know how to move on. The desolation of lonliness eats me up but i can't date. i simply cannot. i freeze with panic at the thought of meeting someone new, someone i don't know, somewhere where i don't know anyone else. So, i tell people to meet me at a munch, but if they're not on the scene, they look down on that, they don't want to make the effort. So fuck them. But i can't date, and i can't meet vanillas, that panics me even more, so i really don't know what to do. Just a hug. Just to feel like i didn't have to do all this by myself. Just to cry into someone else's arms. Then maybe i could find the strength to carry on.

Everywhere i look, people are pairing up, whether its casual or more permanent. Everyone says i'm ok looking, that they love me, but not in that way, that i should be snapped up. But who wants desperation? Its not an attractive quality. And i won't do casual, and i won't share. Which pretty much means the whole scene that i know is off limits. And back to the previous point, i can't meet anyone else, because i panic at the thought of meeting them. Catch 22.

i really am not sure of the point of trying to carry on. But i will. Try. Put on my happy mask again, fool the world, and try to fool myself.

Twisted, once again.

RIP twisted_eros! [posted as twisted_eros, Dec.08]

Well, twisted_eros doesn't feel so twisted anymore, rose is back, alive and well, and looking forward to 2009 with a smile on her face 

Strange, unfamiliar ground... But, slowly, over the past few weeks, the happy times have lasted longer, been more frequent, and the lows less intense. This is down to the continuing care and support of some of my truest friends, whom i can't begin to thank; i owe them my life.

It feels like a seismic shift has taken place inside of me. i didn't think i would ever feel this way again, just happy - without the fear that it would be temporary.

It's still a long journey, but now i feel like i can make it.

And play is fun again! 

RIP twisted_eros. i hope you're never resurrected! You served me a purpose, but now that purpose is done 

To my friend [posted as twisted_eros, Dec.08]

To my friend

i know my silence frustrates you. i struggle to express myself out loud. The words get stuck in my throat and all is left is tears, and i feel so weak and helpless and just feeling sorry for myself, which is stupid and makes me feel worse. i know i need to deal with things, and not pretend i'm ok, but i'm tired of not being ok and pretending works a lot of the time. i hate feeling weak and broken and damaged. Sometimes i get too tired to pretend anymore and everything feels futile. The fact you care and continue to care when i'm not helping you understand, it means the world the me. Please don't stop caring, or trying to understand. You give me strength, you make me want to be better. i feel so grateful that you came into my life, that i know you. i worry about you too. Thank you for your friendship. xxx

To the one who must be out there [posted as twisted_eros, Dec.08]

God i feel like hell tonight / tears of rage i cannot fight / i'd be the last to help you understand / are you strong enough to be my man?

nothing's true and nothing's right / so let me be alone tonight / you can't change the way i am / are you strong enough to be my man?

i have a face i cannot show / i make the rules up as i go / it's try and love me if you can / are you man enough to be my man?

when i've shown you that i just don't care / when i'm throwing punches in the air / when i'm broken down and cannot stand / will you be strong enough to be my man?

(with thanks to Sheryl Crow)

Acting as if [posted as twisted_eros, Dec 08]

A really good friend of mine told me on Sunday that sometimes people don't want to hang around with other people who are down all the time... It really hurt, because he is someone, one of the few, that i felt i could be myself around, and not have to fake it. Because i am taking his advice and trying to act as if...

Which is exhausting.

i'm getting so much better. i'm doing so well at faking happiness with other people, that sometimes i'm convincing myself. Sometimes. And then, something happens to crack the illusion, and its really hard to pretend. And i break. Because in those moments it all feels so futile, such a pretence, and what's the point, really?

So, tonight i feel broken. Not because of what happened all those months ago. No, this is a much more common ailment, i'm lonely. i want to feel loved and cherished and cuddle up to someone. i think its the xmas season, everyone coupled up, or with their families, exchanging gifts. i really wish this year was over already...

Going to write my grateful list, see if it works to fix my head, a camomile tea, and an early night...

Fuck It [posted as twisted_eros, Nov08]

so... this morning i'm better... (see other post).

this afternoon, i am suddenly, for no reason at all, sobbing uncontrollably on the kitchen floor. Where did that come from?

i hate these ups and downs... at least its not drug induced anymore, i'm off the anti-d's... it's all me. But sometimes i wish it would all just go away and i could find some kind of balance, in between, without the bravado, and without the tears.

Possibly, still twisted, after all...

(i know, it'll take time. i can't just wake up one morning and feel better. It's a process, and patience was never my forte...)

Getting Better [posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

i had a good therapy session yesterday. About time too! Usually the support group leaves me entirely drained, and i go through a cycle of feeling crap, pulling myself out of it, and then feeling crap again in anticipation of the next one...

But yesterday was different. It wasn't going to be a good one. i was jet-lagged, just flown back in to Blighty in the morning, full of a stinky coughy cold, about to come on... It had been an emotional weekend - supposedly a celebration, taking my 'best friend' on holiday to celebrate her upcoming nuptials, by the first night she had told me she was embarrassed by me, apparently my hair is too short, my ear piercings are ugly and i don't wear enough make-up. All the usual kind of insult from her, the kind i usually take with a pinch of salt, celebrating our 'differences.' i had to draw the line though and ask her to move out of the hotel room when she said i was a slag that deserved to be raped. And apparently because it took me a month to report the rape to the police, it must mean i wasn't really raped either.

(For the record, i am not a slag. Well, i wasn't that night. But even if i was, no-one 'deserves' to be raped).

i was livid. i am not a person who gets angry easily. And the only retort i could find was that with all the tanning she does, her skin would be leather soon...

So, the therapy session wasn't going to be a good one. i wasn't really in the frame of mind for more onslaught. But actually, i think all the things conspiring to make me feel bad, made me find some strength to confront my most inner demon.

i admitted i didn't want to get better. Because if i were better what he did wouldn't matter so much.

Stupid eh?

Admitting it seems like a weight off my shoulders. Feeling bad is only making me feel bad. (And some of my friends, i know it hurts them to see me hurt). i feel suddenly stronger today, for the first time thinking that i don't need to just get through the day, but that there might be a future also. i feel less fragile. And partially i have my ex-'friend' to thank for that. i said goodbye to her, i'm not putting up with fakery's anymore.

It still matters. He raped me. He beat me, and i have scars still. He raped my arse. He used the espresso handle on me. He forced me to 'submit' to make the pain stop, he took what is most beautiful to me and made me twist it so i could survive. Still, when i play i remember, submission is tainted now. It will take a very thoughtful and special Dom to undo that damage. i stopped fighting, i called him Sir, i sucked his cock. It doesn't make it less of a rape because i did what i could to make it end, make him go, make him not kill me. It doesn't make me a slag that i drank a lot of vodka, that i was drunk. There's a lot i don't remember about that night, how did he get to my flat? There's a lot he did that's fuzzy, and then there's a lot he did that is in technicolour. It doesn't make me a slag, that i've had a few one night stands. It doesn't make it right. What happened was wrong. i'm going to stop blaming myself, stop punishing myself by feeling bad. i'm going to get stronger now.

i see the world differently now. It's a screwed up world and bad things happen to good people. i'm going to start seeing myself as good people.

For the record, for those who are wondering, it was a vanilla date. Just supposed to be dinner. First date on match.com. Those fuckers are lurking everywhere, we all know to be careful, and i thought i was being careful. i don't know if he spiked my drink, maybe, maybe not, but he was clever in how he got me to drink. And i've never had memory loss like this with drink, so i know my mind is trying to protect me still.

i'm still angry about a lot of things. In this community we get angry that consensual harm can be prosecuted under law. i had evidence of non-consensual harm and no prosecution was brought. Because non-consent could not be proved. The police said based on how much had been consumed at the restaurant, they believed i was drunk. But drunkiness is not enough sometimes to prove non-consent. For me the evidence is overwhelming - photographs of the damage done to me, the fact of drunkiness prohibiting consent, the use of the espresso handle as a dildo... But its not enough for the CPS to prosecute. The police were wonderful, very supportive, but the CPS won't take anything to court they aren't sure of winning as they have targets to meet... i know my 'lifestyle' was a factor. How do you get a jury to believe a girl who normally likes to be beaten, didn't want to be beaten? Well, a girl who normally likes sex, also didn't want sex... The thing i'm most angry about though, is that he got off. And if he told his friends he'd been 'wrongfully' arrested for rape, the fact that no charges were brought will just shore up that claim, and add to the urban legend that women just take delight in making false rape claims. It almost killed me to report it, the process, the hope. There was a time when it was very fragile for me, i could have ended it all. And it makes me very angry that i put myself through all that and nothing came of it.

So, it matters. It matters a lot to me. And it probably always will. But for the first time since it happened, i feel like i might be able to beat it, to feel whole again, to not feel defined by that hurt, to figure out who i am now. i'm even looking forward to 'tomorrow', to the fact that there is a 'tomorrow' and that it might hold good things.

i couldn't have done this alone. The Women & Girl's Network are a wonderful charitable organisation. My friends who have kept me going, they mean the world to me, they know who they are. Thank you.

Not so twisted anymore.... rose...

excellent therapy [posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

A lovely man, who shall remain nameless, found twisted_eros' blogs, put two and two together, took charge and made things so much better...

To anyone feeling a little low right now, perhaps the following will work for you... Its certainly surprised me tonight.

First - write for 30 minutes, long-hand, about all the things you're grateful for. Don't stop writing for 30 minutes. You'll be surprised that you mostly can. Repeat things if you have to. At the end of 30 minutes, stop and read it out.

Second - write for 10 minutes, long-hand, all the things you love. I found this harder but actually there were things that weren't even on the first list.

Now, i have to read both lists before i go to sleep and when i wake up, and keep them with me during the day and if i'm feeling low, refer to them... When i was in my funk the last few days, i didn't think there was anything to be grateful for, i only saw the crap. But there really is and it really isn't as bad as all that. There's a lot of good. A lot of reasons for being glad.

Thank you, you know who you are  xxx

lonely [posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

just lonely. been at home all day, mostly sleeping, not wanting to be part of the world. Got to go to work tomorrow and face the music. No-one to talk to. Why do i still feel like this? Why can't i pull myself out of it? Why can't i tell anyone how i feel? Outside its all calm and quiet, inside i'm screaming.

self-destruction [posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

Not my best decision. Didn't go to work this morning. My boss says i can take it as holiday but i need to be honest with myself as to what i can commit to... Really hope i'm not about to lose my job, i really need it, not just because i need the money but because i need the routine, to stop moping around the place. i hope she's just talking about maybe going part time for a while, which wouldn't be great but is maybe what i need...

i don't even know why i couldn't go... i went to bed last night at 8pm, and i slept all the way through... i got up, and suddenly felt so empty the idea of being around people felt like they would whoosh through me, leaving me like dust on the ground... i felt panicky and just wanted to curl back up into a ball again.

Its just too hard doing this on my own. Everyone thinks i'm better now. Most of my friends are bored of hearing how i am, so i spend time reassuring them i'm ok. Some of them have even stopped hanging out with me, i've put them through too much and they're tired of it. Totally get that. Just means i spend more energy reassuring everyone else so no-one else abandons me. Except everyone thinking i'm ok feels like an abandonment too. Because i'm not.

another Monday afternoon (posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08)

...another painful support group session... why, oh why, does getting help need to hurt so much...? my counsellor is not happy with me, i'm not doing enough to try to make my life better and i'm sinking into a pit of self-pity... It helps to know the other women aren't finding it easy either, and to know that my experience was relatively recent in comparison, but i don't feel like i'm getting better, just going through the motions... These sessions seem to fuck me up for a couple of days afterwards, then i feel better for a couple of days, then i feel bad again in anticipation of it again... They're supposed to be healing but i don't feel like i'm healing...

i guess i have made some revelations. i've realised that i've been immersing myself so much in the scene because in the scene i control the violence against me, and in the real world that violence is uncontrollable and frightening. i'm also using the violence and the pain as a substitute for cutting. Not a good move. So, i know i need to pull back a bit, not entirely because i need the support of some very good friends who are on the scene, but just a bit, to learn how to function again in the real world and not to use a beating as therapy. It'd be nice if a beating could be fun again instead of using it to re-live parts of what happened on my own terms...

And i know the main reason i'm not trying that hard to get better is that getting better is really scary... Sounds counter-intuitive, i know, but if i get better, i have to take responsibility for myself, i can't lean on people, i have to face up to being alone. If i get better, that man hasn't fucked me up for life. Not that he'd ever know anyhow, but he should know and feel life-long guilt for what he did.

But i need to start doing some more positive things for myself. i need to start exercising properly and get stronger. i need to start eating more healthily. i need to stop smoking. i need to take the time for a long, hot bath every now and again. i need to lose the 2+ stone i put on comfort eating in the months afterwards. i need to learn how to be happy without the help of other substances. i need to change the negative voice in my head, which says i don't deserve happiness, and i need to chase happiness like its the air i breathe...

Every now and again, i just need hugs...

my men [posted as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

i felt the first post experiment worked quite well.. so, i'm going to try the same exorcism on how i feel about some of the men in my life....

Man No.1 - my husband. Well, i loved him. Obviously. We were married a long time, and it was never easy but our love kept us together... Until, over time, the never easy bit just eroded all the love either of us had... We're good friends now, and i'm very proud we've been able to salvage that and not shat all over the memories... i've always known i'm submissive, but for him i managed to push all the fantasies to the back of my mind, and just keep them as fantasies... When i left him, it was like a door had opened in my soul and i was able to be me, really me... And i didn't have to walk around on egg shells anymore, scared that the slightest word would set him off and i would see hate in his eyes... i know now that was because he wasn't happy either... But i have scars from the relationship, i can't feel that anything is ever likely to be permanent anymore, i can't trust in the now to provide the future... He told me after we'd split up that he'd been in love with someone else for 6 years... No wonder all my trying to make it work, didn't work... He's engaged now, to someone else, not the 6 years woman, and whilst i'm really happy for him, it's kind of knocked me for six, feeling like i'm left on the shelf, broken and incapable of that... i don't want him back, but i want to feel loved.

Man No.2 - the first Dom. i was obsessed by Him. He taught me about submission, i craved Him, i craved what He made me do, i felt alive through Him. i thought we were more than just D/s, i wanted Him all the time. Vanilla stuff was so comfortable with Him, we were friends. He chose another, and yet He still wanted me. Until He abandoned me when i needed His support most. i understand why, from a rational viewpoint, but i don't think i'll ever understand it emotionally... i regret that we haven't found a way to stay friends. i regret that He's no longer in my life. i choose a detour on my way to the station, so i don't need to walk past His house... Remembering the times i knocked at His door, scared for what might follow, but so excited and happy that that night He'd chosen me to spend His time with... i'm happy He seems happy now, but i'm unhappy He doesn't seem to have found a way in which i can still factor in His life. Maybe its because He feels so bad about abandoning me. Maybe its because He still cares about me, and feels that's a betrayal of His girlfriend. Or maybe He just doesn't care, and doesn't think about me at all...

Man No.3 - the could have been. i met him, we played. The D/s worked extremely well, we synched.. It lasted 5 minutes, we were both in the right place at the wrong time. We're excellent friends now. He's there when i need him, he came to my house the night i needed help to stay alive. If we ever tried again, i know i'd fall in love with him. But that would be wrong. He has his whole life ahead, should be thinking about finding a woman to settle down with, have children, etc. i can't give him that, so i settle for friends, and mutual respect, and support.

Man No.4 - my rock. He came into my life when i was crumbling. He wanted to look after me and make me feel safe. He brought me back into the world, so i could function, he built me up and gave me strength. He's still the only person i feel i can be vulnerable with, he gets the calls when i'm crying and feeling low. He makes me laugh. He gives me pain when i need it, he understands its not healthy but he does it because he knows its my only way at the moment. He knows when i need comfort. i'm becoming dependent on him, even though we're not together anymore. i seem to want him more now that we're not together. i want to look after him too, make things better for him. i feel sad that i couldn't be the woman that he wants, that i couldn't make him want just me. But i value him so much. He's special and he always will be to me.

Man No.5 - my confusion. i'm chasing this man. Psychology 101 says its very simple. i want to feel safe and looked after. He's substantially older than me and i guess i'm looking for a father figure to give me that. But his ambivalence is tearing me apart. So, i'm going to stop. His loss. Or, given how fucked up i am at the moment, maybe his gain...

Hurting [written as twisted_eros, Nov.08]

Well, this is my first post under this profile... If you read the bit about me, you'll know this profile is for me to hide behind. i set it up a little while ago, back when i thought i might really have to hide out for a while.. So now it exists for when i want to get things out. Not sure why i think it'll help to have things on the internet, rather than just keeping a private diary... But somehow i think it will. With a private diary its all still there for me to keep, and i want it properly out of me... But somehow i can't seem to write it down and then delete it... Deleting it doesn't seem right, but keeping it there just hurts too much...

i don't even know really what i want to say in this post... i'm so mixed up at the moment. Life is just so much of a struggle, some days i don't feel like i can carry on. Other days i'm surprised by how i can even feel happy. i seem to be using pain to help me through, and i know that's not healthy, but cutting myself isn't healthy either and at least i'm not doing that. Although i think about it almost every single moment. Somehow, whilst the beatings make me feel better, they can also make me feel worse... i need to feel safe, looked after, cared for, maybe even loved... Strangely, when i'm being beaten i feel those things, but its temporary and the intensity of the beating just emphasises how alone i am afterwards.

i don't think i'll ever get better. i know its soon really and i know it takes time... But i just feel like a charity case, begging for a beating to get from one week to another. Damaged goods. It feels like no-one's ever loved me, even my husband loved someone else the last 6 years of our marriage. People want to play with me, but no-one wants to love me. And i get why. So, i go into a spiral of feeling sorry for myself, hating myself, needing to hurt myself, or be hurt just to get by. i try so hard to do the positive things, to get better but its all so fragile and it all feels like such hard work... i wish i could believe in the light at the end of the tunnel...

i have so much to be grateful for. Some absolutely amazing friends, both on the scene and vanilla. A great job that pays for a very comfortable lifestyle. i'm getting help for what happened. i just wish everything could go away, that i could turn back time, and it never happened. Because i don't know how to stop it hurting me.

Signing off, enough maudlin, i hope this experiment works and i feel better now some of it is out of me...

This Kink Thing [Oct.12]

When I started doing this kink-thing (as I shall put it) five years ago, I felt a sense of freedom in finally being able to do and enact the fantasies that had been in my head since I was about four years old. Back then, it was all about what I've come to term 'missionary position kink': bending over, receiving pain. A spanking, a caning. I soon came to extend my knowledge of pain to other hitty things, the tawse, the crop, the flogger. I adored my first experiences with the single tail whip, the sting on my back, I loved the thrill of being wrapped by the whip, especially around the neck. Back then I didn't identify as a submissive so much as a masochist, or what some might call a bottom, happily playing casually with friends, in clubs or more privately. Whilst it was always a sexual experience for me, sex was hardly ever on the agenda. (Sex usually is on the agenda, now, although it does depend whom I'm playing with).

I started to add new experiences, less missionary, more & different sensations. The dance of rope bondage, the cocoon of mummification, the burn of wax, the beautiful sensuality of a scalpel cutting my flesh, the intense throbbing of the staples, piercing my skin. Needles, they were too much for me, or so far they have been (I've learnt that what once seems like a hard limit can be turned into something uncomfortable, and then even, into something craved and desired). Breast play used to be off the agenda, but I've learned to love to hate the intensity of the clamps, or the cups, on my nipples, or my clit, to adore the release when they are removed and the increased sensation following. I crave the hand at my neck, or over my mouth, the knowledge that even whether I breathe is dependent on the will of the person in whom I place my trust.

I called myself a submissive; from the newbie perspective, browsing the boards, masochist seemed to be a bad word, there was an undercurrent that I picked up on that the masochist was selfishly in it only for their own pleasure, and so I distanced myself from that label, at the beginning. But I learned to become more comfortable with it, because what I was doing, what I was enjoying, wasn't submission. I became submissive through pain, wanting to please the person inflicting the pain, but my motivation was never to serve for service sake and I have rarely understood pure submission. Labelling myself submissive started to feel fraudulent, not me. But masochism as a label never really fit me either; yes, I am sexually aroused through pain, or the expectation of pain. But I don't enjoy pain. I enjoy the feeling immediately after pain, the endorphin rush, the release. I absolutely hate the pain, as much (and sometimes more) than I crave it.

I did start to understand submission through a relationship, but soon learned that I couldn't adapt to a version of submission that required me to always submit. I am by nature fiercely independent, I crave release from that, but submission makes me lose my sense of self, and that I can't afford to do. But there was nothing more relaxing than kneeling at his feet, his hand stroking my hair, being kitten. It was a safe place to be, but it needed to exist only in moments.

Since then, and since the beginning, my kink has started to evolve into areas which I am less comfortable with, areas which make me question why I am made this way, and make me wish I could be fixed and un-kink myself. But, there is no turning from the abyss. My childhood and early adult fantasies may only have involved a caning from the headmaster, but now they feature scenes of intense degradation, humiliation and sexual use. Most of these fantasies should stay that way; fantasies. In the world we live in, it is in our gift to bring our fantasies to life, they don't need to be locked away. Most of mine, I feel should stay locked.

But I am drawn to them, even as I fear the psychological impact of what living through them might bring. Earlier this year I experienced true consensual non-consent, which I am still trying to make sense of. I think it only worked because of the deep bond of trust, friendship and respect I had with the person concerned. But, it still worries me, as I know it does him. We were so close to the line, we probably crossed it and crossed back, over and over, so that we weren't sure where the line was anymore.

I think humiliation is even more dangerous. It's one thing to be made to piss in a bucket, or to drink your own piss from a baby's bottle. That's humiliating, but it's still a physical act. To be made to feel worthless, nothing, despised, to be broken down so that there is nothing but hate for oneself, that is a dangerous thing to crave. That takes CNC beyond the physical, beyond the sexual, and into the sphere of psychological torture. I've got enough psychological problems of my own in real life without creating more through my kink life. I guess that's why it's called edge play, and I know enough to know that one person's edge is another's every day, and another's worst nightmare. I will see where my abyss takes me, when (and if) I jump into it.

I don't know how to label what I like, what pigeon-hole to put myself in. I used to be a submissive masochist, I guess, sometimes a bottom. Now, I just identify as kinky. Sometimes I like to switch, to top. I used to be a married, monogamous, heterosexual. These days, I'm a bisexual, poly type, enjoying the delights of relationships with men and with women. I've learned that labels don't stick, that labels that once worked, no longer apply. I'm me, and who I am is changing, evolving, growing (sometimes that growth is backwards….). What I want today, I probably won't want tomorrow. Who I love today, I will no doubt learn not to love one day. Life itself is the abyss, but there are pockets of good on the journey down, and at the bottom, there's all you lot. <3

Diary of a Submissive: A True Story, by Sophie Morgan [Sept.12]

I really wanted to hate this book. It's my book, the one I've been threatening to write, promising to write, and writing bits of every so often since I came on the scene 5 years ago. It's even marketed the exact same way I was going to market it ('this is what you read after reading 50 shades of grey') and it even starts with a hot prologue, ends with a hot epilogue and has the journey of discovery in between. It's my book, except I didn't write it and she got there first. I wanted to hate it.

Except, it's actually pretty good. I can tell she's a deal younger than me (still over-preoccupied with the university years and the getting onto the career ladder) which frankly isn't that interesting except possibly to her. And it's told in a very linear way which just as a story-telling device, I personally find a little dull. But, man, can the girl write kink.

The scenes are hot and go on for several pages. She's really good at articulating how it feels to be a masochistic submissive and learning the challenges of a D/s relationship. And total respect, that girl can take a beating. I almost cried on the tube reading one scene, imagining myself in that situation, and how unbearable that level of pain would be. And they call me a pain slut.

I have some quibbles. I don't believe that she can play that hard and never seem to experience sub-drop (or maybe it was edited out as not up-beat enough). Also, she seems to get off on adrenaline, whilst I've always understood it to be endorphins which cause the happy. There isn't much about the scene and she meets her men in a more serendipitous type of way than internet/scene dating although she mentions briefly reading from the edges debates online (on this site?) and does go a munch.

She rolls her eyes. She bites her lip. And has an inner voice (but thankfully, no inner goddess). Unfortunately, whether she really does do those things, they are now firmly in the realm of 50 shades clichés.

But, overall, good erotica, good kink, a positive write-up of what it's like to enjoy our lifestyle and I would definitely recommend.

PS. I'm still writing mine. Maybe I'll finish it before the current trend dips away again. Should you be worried? Only if you think you should be...  (evil laugh). No, seriously, I'm going to be ethical with it. No need to fear a thing.

Control [Apr.12]

This blog has been inspired by two things that I separately realised recently that have coalesced to cause me to need to write. When I need to write, it's to get something out that's been on my mind, that I need to be done with, to get out, which by getting out, gives me some peace. Unfortunately both are about work. But also not about work.

Control is important to me, it always has been. I've always referred to myself as a control freak, writing my lists and ensuring that the outcomes of endeavours were always as I set out for them to be. It made me a conscientious student and worker, it gave me a feeling of comfort, knowing that I was succeeding, knowing I was in charge of that, in control of my destiny.

I play around with control, to an extent, in my private life. It's a relief, sometimes, to let go, to totally acquiesce control to someone else, within certain agreed parameters, for a moment in time – and this is the critical thing - on my terms. It takes a certain special type of person, of relationship, of trust, that we've built up over time between us, for me to give over that control. But when I can, it's a beautiful thing. And brings so much peace. The world becomes still, calm, tranquil.

Aside from those few times, not being in control has always made me feel stress. It always has, whether at school, at work, at home, wherever. The need to be in control, and the effects of not being in control, they haven't really changed. Except, that now, when I feel stress I feel out of control, to the extent that I feel panic. Lately at work, I have been feeling the kind of stress where I feel panicked. And when everyday, day to day, stress tips into panic, that's a problem.

I've already connected the need not to feel stress to ensuring that I don't suffer post-traumatic nightmares which then result in insomnia (because I am afraid of falling asleep in case I get the nightmares), which then result in tiredness, leading to inability to stave off depression on a downward spiral I always struggle to break free of. But, this week, I had a 'doh' lightbulb moment. I am feeling panicked because I am somehow connecting the feelings of being out of control to how I felt when that control was wrested from me against my will. Simply put, any stress is causing me to feel panicked because my brain is taking me back to the rape. It might just be work, it might be entirely safe, but my brain at its basest level isn't making the distinction and isn't processing that the two are very different.

This makes me extremely angry. The rape has effectively, if only for a period, I hope this will get better, made me unable to do my job to the best of my ability. Back when it was only about a year afterwards, I lost my job, because of the rape. My boss at the time said it was because the rape had made me lose my resilience, and she couldn't rely on me anymore. I successfully negotiated better leaving terms because she had no right to discriminate against me based on what had happened to me, but I've often wondered if she was right. I'm not as resilient. Not at the stuff that matters at work, like coping with a normal amount of stress.

[I think in life terms, I'm incredibly resilient. I continue to live, to get up each day, and when I fall, to put myself back together. But that's not what other people see. Professionally, that's not what matters, it's not what people see].

The other thing that happened is that a friend mentioned that it was my choice to work this weekend. I've been very much resenting work, that this week I'd vowed to myself that I would get my life back in balance – and I couldn't achieve it. I didn't think it was my choice to work this weekend, I felt very much that the work needed doing, that if I didn't do it, I would feel the stress again – and I realised this morning, that I was getting stressed about getting stressed… Winding myself up into having to work in an attempt to avoid being stressed later.

So, I've done a little work, but not a lot. I know that tomorrow I will feel out of control, I will feel stressed, I will feel panicked. I hope I'll catch myself in time, before the panic sets in, and remind myself that it's just work and it's not the place where I was 4 years ago.

But I am starting to wonder if perhaps I shouldn't go back to therapy, not to talk about rape, but to talk about stress, and control, and how I manage both. Therapy of course scares me, because the point of therapy is to wrest control… And the danger of therapy is that it brings everything back so much closer to the surface and makes maintaining the illusion of sanity that much harder to negotiate everyday. So, I'm not saying I'm going to do it tomorrow. I've learnt over the last few years that some therapy works, some doesn't and the right person is very important, more so than the type of therapy. But I promise you, I'll give it some thought and I'll find the right person. It may have been 4 years, but there's a long way to go.

Four Years Ago [Apr.10]

It was four years ago. Why do I have to remember the date? It's like a fearful milestone looming, I get worked up in advance, anticipating something horrible. It's only a date, another day. And it's not like it's the only day in the year when I remember, I wish it were. If I ever get to the point when I only remember on the anniversary of it happening, that will be so wonderful. But, it's something that I think of every day. Every day. Every. Day. Sometimes I wake up and it's my first thought of the day. Sometimes, it's been in my dreams, my nightmares. Sometimes, I'm lucky, and I won't remember until I'm on the train to work, or even in a meeting. I really don't think, in all the 4 years, the 1,461 days since it happened, I don't think I've ever got past lunchtime without thinking about it. So, why does the anniversary matter so much? Why does the date it happened still have so much power?

Some people say, don't mark it, don't make it into a big deal. But those are the lucky people who don't know. Other people, the unlucky ones who do know, they understand. It's a big deal because it's impossible for it not to be. This year I decided to let it be what it wanted to be, and not try to be anything else. Previous years, I have tried to ignore it, to keep going. And the pressure of that, of being around people, being part of the world, it's taken its toll. Two years ago, I took a lot of drugs and drank a lot, just to get through the night. Last year I got so worked up in advance, felt numb during the day and compensated by spending most of the summer months coping by cutting. Last year there were other factors too, but this year I am not allowing myself to break – I've felt broken so many times, that I am simply so tired of putting myself back together. So, I'm giving myself today, this week if needs be, and then I will be OK again. I hope.

And I have been thinking about why it's important, anyway, to mark the date. If a loved one dies, you remember. You pause, you remember the person who you lost, what they meant to you, and you honour them. The rape changed me. I am unrecognisable to myself in so many ways now that I was then. Of course, some of that is just the passing of time, of being 4 years older. But it isn't just me that changed. The world changed too. There was me before the rape. There was a different world before the rape. I think back on the girl then and I try to remember her, to find again some of that spirit, that positivity, that pure belief that I used to have that everything was going to be alright in the end. I won't say part of me died. But I did change. There's a picture of me hanging above my bed, it was taken about 6 months before. I keep her there, not because I'm narcissistic and I like having a half-naked picture of myself hanging above my bed (although I do), I keep her there because she's a stranger to me now, she's smiling with such promise, such saucy innocence, I like to remember that she used to be me, I used to be her.

Today I'm not cutting, I'm not doing drugs. I'm eating probably more than is healthy and there's a litre of chocolate milk that isn't going to last much longer, and I might open a bottle of wine tonight. But, the point is, I'm doing better this year, I've been doing better. A friend (who unfortunately knows) tells me that one day there will be a day when I won't think of it, and I know I'm getting better. I've survived for four years. 1,461 days have passed and I am still here. It's not an exaggeration to say there were times when that didn't seem likely. Some days are harder than others, I need to learn how to manage stress better because stress of any kind seems to be a trigger for nightmares, insomnia, panic attacks. But I'm getting better at coping during those times, learning how to take the time out to heal myself, and those times are getting fewer and further between.

Slowly, one day at a time, sometimes a step forward and two steps back, but overall, a forward trajectory, slowly, I am getting stronger, I am learning to cope. I'm rebuilding. And quite honestly, when I'm done, you won't be clicking on a link to some blog written through tears, you'll hear my voice, loud and clear, shouting it from the rooftops. Rape happens and it shouldn't. The fact it is taboo to talk about it stinks. The fact that I am fearful of people at work knowing, in case they judge me, and think it was my fault, or that I am weak. When it wasn't my fault, because rape can only ever be the rapist's fault. And I'm not weak, because I am still here. But, I'm a hypocrite, and rape makes me angry and I want to yell and scream about it, personally force society and everyone in it to readdress their misconceptions about rape and rape victims, but I don't. I stay quiet, in the real world, where it matters. When I am done rebuilding, I won't be quiet. And you will hear me.

Consensual Non-Consent [Jan.12]

Warning: please don't read this if the subject of Consensual Non Consent upsets you. I don't want to cause anyone any upset.

Anyone who's ever read any of my previous replies to stuff on the subject of CNC will know that I think it's an oxymoron and doesn't exist. Rape is non-consent, and the rest is consensual, if sometimes rough, sex.

But....

But recently I've started playing around the edges of CNC, stretching the boundaries of what I'm comfortable with. It started with play, giving 'carte blanche' to various players who I trusted, or learned to trust, letting them push me, knowing they would pull back when needed, trusting that they wouldn't let the noose tighten too tight, or would eventually, and in time, release the airway back to the gas mask. Also, in pain, knowing that it wouldn't stop just because I cried, because it was too much, it would only stop when they decided it should. Or, doing things that I really didn't want to do, not to please (although that was part of it) but because I feared the physical repercussions if I didn't.

But whilst that was me consensually allowing someone else to do things to me, or make me do things, that I didn't want to happen, that frightened me, it wasn't comparable in any way to the rape that happened to me.

And then, with someone else, I experienced CNC of a sexual nature. He takes what he wants, and I did try not to let him. I tried to fight him. I wanted him to fight back, to overpower me and to fuck me. Which he did, brutally, in every sense, and I wanted him to stop and he didn't. He broke me with sex, I cried, I begged him, he ignored me, and took what he wanted.

But, and this is the really important bit, that I'm trying to get my head around. It was so far removed from the rape I experienced. The acts were similar. My reaction during the act was similar. But it was so different, so not comparable. I can almost understand why people use the term 'rape play' because it is only as similar to rape as playing doctors & nurses as a 4 year old is similar to being an actual doctor or an actual nurse, as in, not the same thing at all.

The difference is, there was an understanding of consent in advance of the act. There was an existing friendship and trust in advance of the act. There was an understanding of what would happen in advance of the act. There was a knowledge that afterwards there would be hugs and laughter and a continued mutual respect. The difference is, I wanted him to.

We've met up again since (see the blog, Daddy) and we did discuss this a little. I said how this was really interesting to me, that it was similar but so very different. It makes him really special to me that it was with him that I broke this barrier, because fantasies of being forcibly taken used to be a regular feature in my head and after the rape they somehow seemed taboo, like it was wrong to have those fantasies having experienced something that made me want to not live anymore, and still makes just getting out of bed a struggle sometimes (see, slutwalk, why I am walking). But now, I feel liberated and free to have those fantasies again, because it isn't the same at all. It's just play and doesn't have a life sentence attached.

And the other thing he said, about not being sure if he would ever stop even if I really needed him to... Whilst it should fill me with dread, because it's him, because it's us, I just think that's hot...

Daddy [Jan.12]

A very strange thing happened to me the other night when I was playing with my FwB (friend with benefits). He's my friend, we sometimes hook up for dinner, flirting, and lately kinky sex. We started out teasingly using the word 'Sir', which he likes, and when we play me calling him his actual name has become the safe word. Despite only really ever playing with me on a few occasions he's become quite the brutal sadist, and there have been times when I've had to use it... I've learnt that fighting him isn't a good idea, he's much stronger, and ruthless with his revenge (see other blog on consensual non consent).

But last time we played, I called him Daddy, it just came out, and it felt really natural. For me, this is really very strange. I've never understood the Daddy Dom/little girl dynamic, everything I've read on the subject has made me more sure that it's not for me. And whilst we kind of play with the Dom/sub, Sadist/masochist dynamics, what we're doing is really just kinky sex and not the kind of hardcore play scenes I've enjoyed with others (although, I would describe what we do as quite hardcore, again see the other blog on consensual non consent...). He's not 'scene', he's not part of this world where we discuss all the terminology and I didn't know what he'd make of it – as it happens, he just shrugged his shoulders in his very debonair French style (well, he is French) and said I could call him whatever I wanted...

But Daddy? Some might say I've got a bit of a Daddy complex (well, some have). Certainly, I've dated and played with my share of the older man... My own father is a bit reclusive and emotionally distant, but I don't think I've been trying to replace that in any way, I just think I fancy older men. But my FwB is younger than me (and I definitely fancy him too, I'm not ageist at all!), not significantly, but by 7 years. And I called him Daddy.

Not really sure what to make of it, or if I should be making anything of it. Strange thing, this kink thing.

2011 questions on the year [Dec.11]

2011 in 40 Questions

My version of 2011 questions

1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?

• Hmmmm....
• Walked in front of maybe up to 5,000 people, leading the way at SlutWalk London. I needed to feel that empowerment.
• Told the man I loved to marry the woman he loved.
• Took total conscious control of my own life and didn't apologise for it.

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

No. I am thinner by about a stone. I'm not fitter. At the start of this year, I was feeling pretty contented & smug actually, and then life threw some curve balls at me... New Year's resolutions stink. I have goals now but not resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

No, but lots of them are pregnant. And I want to be.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, thankfully.

5. What countries did you visit?

USA, Canada, France and Wales.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

To be a mother.

7. What date(s) from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

• February 5th - broke up with S.
• April 10th – it always is, I'd like to forget.
• June 11th - SlutWalk London
• November 24th - promotion at work finally made public... 

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Got promoted. And didn't kill myself. (early part of the year did nearly kill me, which totally surprised me, and glad it didn't happen...)

9. What was your biggest failure?

I'm still really lazy and prefer to sit on my sofa and watch TV than do exercise and get fit...

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nothing too bad 

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

I have some wonderful friends, who know who they are, who helped me through in their own wondrous ways. One particular man took a particular chance on a girl who he thought would be 'difficult' and I think we've had an amazingly interesting journey of exploration together. x

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

The rioters. I kind of understand. But not why they needed to set fire to a van outside my window or kill that poor man down the road.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Firttery. I must stop. I'm decluttering at the moment and it's upsetting how much I actually forgot I bought...

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

My holiday, I needed it. Two weeks away in Canada and USA, mostly seeing friends. I'm going to do more of those kinds of holidays.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

• Hurt, Johnny Cash.
• Someone like you, Adele
• Feeling Good, Muse

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. Happier or sadder?

Sadder... but then my happiness was based on something that didn't last. So, happier? A more realist happy?

ii. Thinner or fatter?

Thinner, by about 1 stone. Not where I wanted to be, but better 

iii. richer or poorer?

About the same, slightly richer. Which isn't great considering how much I claim to 'save' every month.. but I did just spend on a new bed and on a 3 for 2 deal on sperm... 

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Reminding people I care for that I'm here for them and love them. Hugging.

Sex. I really haven't had enough of that.

Exercising. I need to move more.

Work. I know my friends think I work too hard already, but I need to be indispensable. It's only me, and maybe (hopefully) the little 'un if things work out... I need the salary...

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Eating chocolate, pasta and ice cream.

Sleep. I'm fantastic at sleeping my life away.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

With my family at my brother's place. It was actually quite good. And later, zonked out on my own sofa, watching Strictly Come Dancing and falling asleep before Downton Abbey... Maybe kind of boring, but the best I've had post-divorce.

21. How many one-night stands?

How do you define a one-night stand?  There was this one threesome thing but I didn't *actually* have sex... but then saw the ex the next day, which felt kind of wrong in a *very* good way... 

One. A planned hook up. It had it's moment.

22. What was your favourite TV program?

Too many. Dexter. Sons of Anarchy. Grey's Anatomy. To name a few...

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

No. In fact, having met someone in real life that I thought I hated, I now think he's pretty cool.... I think it's best now not to hate people.

24. What was the best book you read?

I loved reading Tipping the Velvet, and it's probably a travesty that I didn't read it sooner, especially since my club was named after it...

There are probably more but I can't think of them, I know I don't read as much as I want to, but I do love my kindle 

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

• Jessie J
• Adele

I know, I'm always late to the party...

26. What did you want and get?

Finally, a place I can call home, that feels like home and I don't want to move from.

A promotion.

Realising that actually I want to be a mother. And I'll do whatever it takes to do it.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

Since turning my back on film production as a career a few years back, I don't go to the pictures like I used to...

I did enjoy the Girl Trilogy on dvd, Bridesmaids (hilarious and especially that bad sex scene at the start struck too easy a chord...), Black Swan was flawed but could have been brilliant and the Ides of March (I do like George).

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 38. The night before was a Saturday and I had some friends over - we had dinner at a local restaurant first, and then back to mine. There were good beatings.  The next day was family lunch and then peer rope (my only of the year). A good birthday weekend of kink 

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Comfortable shoes. More black. But I've also started introducing colour. I may have gone more goth/emo/girl with dragon tattoo type thing, although mine isn't a wasp on the neck, it's my fairy angel...

31. What kept you sane?

My friends.

Work. There was a point I thought I was working so hard it would kill me, literally. But, in the end, it saved me as I was working too hard to think about being depressed.

Me. In the end, I realised I wanted to be sane, and I chose sanity.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Hmmm... Not really into celebrities. Can't deny I fancy most of the hollywood actor/actress type and especially George (you'll all know by now I do like the older man...) but I don't think there was *one* that I melted more for...

33. What political issue stirred you the most?

SlutWalk and victim blaming. For obvious reasons. But it surprised me how much it affected me three years after the fact. I got really emotionally involved, and needed to, but it did almost kill me, all over again.

Riots. Being right outside my flat didn't help.

Unemployment. I don't think it'll be easy getting over the period of unemployment I had before getting my job almost two years ago. I still feel employment is a fleeting thing, and tenuous at best... It definitely worries me...

34. Who did you miss?

Two lovely friends who've been so dear to me, I lost during the year. One I lost over a misunderstanding and mutual stubborness early in the year. We made it up, but he still seems to be AWOL. Another I lost through a mis-translation (I think) but needs her own time right now, and I'm trying to give it to her. But, if you're reading this, you know I miss you both xxx

35. Who was the best new person you met?

Lots. Or, are they new? Some friendships have been reinforced. others rekindled... And others are just starting...

36. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

I *can* survive, and I will. It can be done by myself and I don't need anyone else.

37. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I heard that you're settled down / That you found a girl, and you're married now........ / never mind, I'll find someone like you / I wish nothing but the best for you, too

38. What did you learn about yourself this year that surprised you?

That I want to live. I want to live a life that is mine and not someone else's. I want to be a mother and have a child and create something that could be good in this fucked up world...

39. What is your proudest moment/achievement of 2011?

My promotion.

Not cutting myself when things got shit yesterday/last week/last month/for a while...

Realising that I'm lonely sometimes but I don't need to be alone. And I don't need to do things the conventional way.

40. Why exactly are you blogging this on NYE on IC? Do you expect anyone to even bother reading this far down, and if so what do you think their opinion is of you?

It's not NYE yet... I'll probably do my own blog in the next few days (linking this, it's taken for ages to complete), and I like a recollection of the year, what I was thinking, dreaming, hoping...

I never expect anyone to read, it's just a way of getting 'stuff' out there into the ether, done with...

And I don't care what strangers think of me... If you're my friend and you think I'm a total tosspot for writing, then please message me and tell me (I'll delete you), otherwise, if you're a potential beau, take heed (warning: crazy, unhinged female), or if you're a total stranger, just giggle and flick to the next topic of amusement...