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Here is my new Manifesto: I had a strange moment of clarity this morning.
First of all… the phrase that rules many people’s life is “What if this is a big mistake?” The phrase can be applied to many different things, situations, decisions, and people. You never knew if you are walking into a ‘mistake’ or avoiding one. There have been many things that along the way I THOUGHT where major mistakes… many of them, I can no longer remember why they were so important, why they affected me so or even what they are anymore. So were they really big mistakes. True, some have altered who I am and therefore had an impact on my life.
The big mistakes I have made and regretted
1) Not getting my degree the first time around
2) Not having renter’s insurance when living in the death apartments.
That’s it. Most things that seemed like a mistake at the time or slightly after the fact have faded away. So what am I scared of?
Second: I used to be a very bold person. I enjoyed walks in the dark, drove fearless through blizzards alone, talked to strangers, and made spontaneous unplanned sex connections. Since having PJ and Skeeter, I have become more fearful. Maybe that is a product of being a mother or just in having someone else rely on me for life. Maybe it is because I have experienced and survived an honesty brush with death, because my fears did get worse since the fire. I don’t drive as fast. I worry about being stranded in a snowstorm. I check the locks on the door three times before I can sleep. I don’t like being afraid and have started to do things to make me feel bold again.
One of those things is Katie – my puppy. I get scared when I have to take her out at night. It is dark and shadowy outside and I feel nervous. I carry my cell phone with me, even though I barely step outside the door. I know that I HAVE to take her out – so I do. I also know that when she grows up she will be a large loyal dog and will help me feel safer.
Third: I was always a fiercely independent person. I was a loner who had strange connections to multiple social groups. Everyone knew me but no one knew me well. No one knew the things that happened to me, the things that I had done, and what made me tick. I am still a fiercely independent person but I know that I need people and I need people who know me. I need people to get in my face and help me when I am drowning because I can’t always see it. When people say to me, “Let me know what I can do.” I used to always answer.. “Nothing, thanks.” I realize that I can no longer do that. I need people. I am not good at taking care of myself because I spend a lot of my time on the boys. I need people to look out for me and care for me.
Fourth: I am a giver. I am a giver to the point that I give too much and try too hard to help people. I grew up in a family where my parents (by current standards) were cold. My mother is a martyr and my Dad just exists around her. My mother only did nice things when it was socially acceptable and would give her ‘brownie’ points in her social circle. My dad did sometime go out of his way for someone but my mother would claim credit for his actions. They both think that I give and do too much for others… most recently the work I did on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
asaka’s wedding. After the fire there was a short time when they realized that people take care of me too when suddenly I had furniture, clothes, money and places to slept all given to me by the people I tried so hard to give to for so long. Since Skeeter was diagnosed – they once again think I do too much. True, I have cut down on my giving to all the people around me (and I am sorry) but I have added my giving to perfect strangers that I have meet in the hospital. I am proud of my actions.
Five: Affection. Back to my parents. My parents show no affection. They do not hold hands or kiss in public. When I went to France in high school I remember how odd if felt to have my dad give me a hug and kiss before I got on the plane. I don’t remember if it had happened before that point. The first time I saw my dad actually kiss my mom (not in the tiny peck way) was three years ago when her colon ruptured and she was critically ill. Hugs are still awkward between us and they do not last more than a brief moment – usually they are half-cocked and stiff. Maybe it is because we don’t see eye-to-eye on many things and fought through my teen-age years. But I don’t want that to happen with my boys. I have realized that I crave daily affections… but it does not have to be ‘romantic.’ I am defining affection as some type of touch with another person (excluding children at this point) that I am on friendly terms with. Sure, J tried to be affectionate sometimes but it seems awkward – like the hugs with my mother – most likely because I don’t feel an actual warmth from him. The last hug I got was fromgraydancer on Saturday … and I am pretty sure that the next one will be from him too.
Six: Strength. The first couple of times I talked to my therapist she was shocked. She had, in her words, “expected me to be more messed up based on just the fact breakdown of my life.” People comment that I am a strong person in how I deal with things like the fire, Skeeter’s illness, work and school. I don’t see that. I am just reacting to my life. I have no choice but to handle things as they come to me… the boys depend on me for that. I have to do everything I can to make Skeeter better, to make PJ happier, to get out of the fire, to have an income and to be what I want to be. Maybe the better term is that I am a fighter – that one I can accept. I don’t think in terms of strength – except maybe physical – but I will fight. I will fight for others when they are too tired or stressed to fight or when they just need a champion. I will fight for myself. I am that kind of girl.
Seven: Which is why I am a submissive when it come to sexual relationships. All that above is why I need a sex life structured around D/s at least some of the time. I can not be a 24/7 sub – I have too much stuff to do. But when there is a moment when someone else wants to be my Dom… I’ll happily hand over the whip. It is a time where I don’t have to focus on everything. I can clear my mind and focus only on my Dom and what they want/need/or ask of me. I like pain because it lets me release. I like being a pet sub because l enjoy being held and taken care of after a hard scene and punishment. I like being held accountable for my actions. I love being able to give both of myself physically, emotionally, and mentally and know that there IS someone there watching over me and taking care of me. I deeply crave the moments when I can be with my lover and NOT have to be the one in control, in charge, being strong, or holding up everyone else. I have never been ashamed of my sexual style… I just wish I could embrace it more.
Eight: My tattoo and body modification. I know that I offend people, I even got sneered at byasaka’s photographer at her wedding. I love my ink – if I did not, I don’t think I would keep getting it. I love the ability to ‘customize’ my body and if you are ever bored I can tell you the story and reason behind every tattoo that I have. It is a strange yet unique representation of my life and I always carry it with me. It is who I am. Now what do I mean by, “It is who I am?” That sure sounds like some new-age-teenage-rebellion saying. It is not some transcendent crap about a belief that tattoos are not mutilations but ‘statements of my metaphysical self.” I am not selling you some sort of line or catch phrase. Nor am I dodging a question.
They are “Who I AM” because you can look at my ink and know that I am a mother of two children (one born Year of the Snake and one Year of the Dragon and that I do not plan on any more.) and if you are up on your Kanji you will know that my oldest son’s name is Jonathan and translates to ‘Gift of God.’ You can learn that I am a Pagan of the Draconian Tradition and that I support or are part of the LGBTG community by the rainbow. You will know that I am an avid reader of Neil Gaiman and that Death is my favorite character. I am marked with heart which may tell you something but most likely the double lovers knot will tell you more if you know the meaning. Upon seeing the bound angel on my shoulder most people would see my tie in to the BDSM community. This is all without even speaking to me. In talking with me you would learn that that I have my computer handle of 10 years tattooed on me. I also carry my adopted father’s family crest on my leg – and that same tattoo is on his chest and both my sister legs in exactly the same place as mine. You will learn that I have a slightly stretched butterfly on my belly that survived both my kids and that the beautiful leaf on my stomach was place there to symbolize my surviving of the fire and the return to school to take back my life (I am a Botany Major and the leaf is in the middle of changing colors) And lastly – but only if you ask – will I tell you the story of my newest one. There I am. Most of it you learn without even having to say one word to me. I display intimate parts of myself. I am sorry that people find it offensive. I find it comforting…and I think it shows that I am comfortable with myself and with who I am.
I think that is all… I am drained from writing this as I bet you are from reading it. But I feel better… much much better.
First of all… the phrase that rules many people’s life is “What if this is a big mistake?” The phrase can be applied to many different things, situations, decisions, and people. You never knew if you are walking into a ‘mistake’ or avoiding one. There have been many things that along the way I THOUGHT where major mistakes… many of them, I can no longer remember why they were so important, why they affected me so or even what they are anymore. So were they really big mistakes. True, some have altered who I am and therefore had an impact on my life.
The big mistakes I have made and regretted
1) Not getting my degree the first time around
2) Not having renter’s insurance when living in the death apartments.
That’s it. Most things that seemed like a mistake at the time or slightly after the fact have faded away. So what am I scared of?
Second: I used to be a very bold person. I enjoyed walks in the dark, drove fearless through blizzards alone, talked to strangers, and made spontaneous unplanned sex connections. Since having PJ and Skeeter, I have become more fearful. Maybe that is a product of being a mother or just in having someone else rely on me for life. Maybe it is because I have experienced and survived an honesty brush with death, because my fears did get worse since the fire. I don’t drive as fast. I worry about being stranded in a snowstorm. I check the locks on the door three times before I can sleep. I don’t like being afraid and have started to do things to make me feel bold again.
One of those things is Katie – my puppy. I get scared when I have to take her out at night. It is dark and shadowy outside and I feel nervous. I carry my cell phone with me, even though I barely step outside the door. I know that I HAVE to take her out – so I do. I also know that when she grows up she will be a large loyal dog and will help me feel safer.
Third: I was always a fiercely independent person. I was a loner who had strange connections to multiple social groups. Everyone knew me but no one knew me well. No one knew the things that happened to me, the things that I had done, and what made me tick. I am still a fiercely independent person but I know that I need people and I need people who know me. I need people to get in my face and help me when I am drowning because I can’t always see it. When people say to me, “Let me know what I can do.” I used to always answer.. “Nothing, thanks.” I realize that I can no longer do that. I need people. I am not good at taking care of myself because I spend a lot of my time on the boys. I need people to look out for me and care for me.
Fourth: I am a giver. I am a giver to the point that I give too much and try too hard to help people. I grew up in a family where my parents (by current standards) were cold. My mother is a martyr and my Dad just exists around her. My mother only did nice things when it was socially acceptable and would give her ‘brownie’ points in her social circle. My dad did sometime go out of his way for someone but my mother would claim credit for his actions. They both think that I give and do too much for others… most recently the work I did on
asaka’s wedding. After the fire there was a short time when they realized that people take care of me too when suddenly I had furniture, clothes, money and places to slept all given to me by the people I tried so hard to give to for so long. Since Skeeter was diagnosed – they once again think I do too much. True, I have cut down on my giving to all the people around me (and I am sorry) but I have added my giving to perfect strangers that I have meet in the hospital. I am proud of my actions.Five: Affection. Back to my parents. My parents show no affection. They do not hold hands or kiss in public. When I went to France in high school I remember how odd if felt to have my dad give me a hug and kiss before I got on the plane. I don’t remember if it had happened before that point. The first time I saw my dad actually kiss my mom (not in the tiny peck way) was three years ago when her colon ruptured and she was critically ill. Hugs are still awkward between us and they do not last more than a brief moment – usually they are half-cocked and stiff. Maybe it is because we don’t see eye-to-eye on many things and fought through my teen-age years. But I don’t want that to happen with my boys. I have realized that I crave daily affections… but it does not have to be ‘romantic.’ I am defining affection as some type of touch with another person (excluding children at this point) that I am on friendly terms with. Sure, J tried to be affectionate sometimes but it seems awkward – like the hugs with my mother – most likely because I don’t feel an actual warmth from him. The last hug I got was from
graydancer on Saturday … and I am pretty sure that the next one will be from him too.Six: Strength. The first couple of times I talked to my therapist she was shocked. She had, in her words, “expected me to be more messed up based on just the fact breakdown of my life.” People comment that I am a strong person in how I deal with things like the fire, Skeeter’s illness, work and school. I don’t see that. I am just reacting to my life. I have no choice but to handle things as they come to me… the boys depend on me for that. I have to do everything I can to make Skeeter better, to make PJ happier, to get out of the fire, to have an income and to be what I want to be. Maybe the better term is that I am a fighter – that one I can accept. I don’t think in terms of strength – except maybe physical – but I will fight. I will fight for others when they are too tired or stressed to fight or when they just need a champion. I will fight for myself. I am that kind of girl.
Seven: Which is why I am a submissive when it come to sexual relationships. All that above is why I need a sex life structured around D/s at least some of the time. I can not be a 24/7 sub – I have too much stuff to do. But when there is a moment when someone else wants to be my Dom… I’ll happily hand over the whip. It is a time where I don’t have to focus on everything. I can clear my mind and focus only on my Dom and what they want/need/or ask of me. I like pain because it lets me release. I like being a pet sub because l enjoy being held and taken care of after a hard scene and punishment. I like being held accountable for my actions. I love being able to give both of myself physically, emotionally, and mentally and know that there IS someone there watching over me and taking care of me. I deeply crave the moments when I can be with my lover and NOT have to be the one in control, in charge, being strong, or holding up everyone else. I have never been ashamed of my sexual style… I just wish I could embrace it more.
Eight: My tattoo and body modification. I know that I offend people, I even got sneered at by
asaka’s photographer at her wedding. I love my ink – if I did not, I don’t think I would keep getting it. I love the ability to ‘customize’ my body and if you are ever bored I can tell you the story and reason behind every tattoo that I have. It is a strange yet unique representation of my life and I always carry it with me. It is who I am. Now what do I mean by, “It is who I am?” That sure sounds like some new-age-teenage-rebellion saying. It is not some transcendent crap about a belief that tattoos are not mutilations but ‘statements of my metaphysical self.” I am not selling you some sort of line or catch phrase. Nor am I dodging a question. They are “Who I AM” because you can look at my ink and know that I am a mother of two children (one born Year of the Snake and one Year of the Dragon and that I do not plan on any more.) and if you are up on your Kanji you will know that my oldest son’s name is Jonathan and translates to ‘Gift of God.’ You can learn that I am a Pagan of the Draconian Tradition and that I support or are part of the LGBTG community by the rainbow. You will know that I am an avid reader of Neil Gaiman and that Death is my favorite character. I am marked with heart which may tell you something but most likely the double lovers knot will tell you more if you know the meaning. Upon seeing the bound angel on my shoulder most people would see my tie in to the BDSM community. This is all without even speaking to me. In talking with me you would learn that that I have my computer handle of 10 years tattooed on me. I also carry my adopted father’s family crest on my leg – and that same tattoo is on his chest and both my sister legs in exactly the same place as mine. You will learn that I have a slightly stretched butterfly on my belly that survived both my kids and that the beautiful leaf on my stomach was place there to symbolize my surviving of the fire and the return to school to take back my life (I am a Botany Major and the leaf is in the middle of changing colors) And lastly – but only if you ask – will I tell you the story of my newest one. There I am. Most of it you learn without even having to say one word to me. I display intimate parts of myself. I am sorry that people find it offensive. I find it comforting…and I think it shows that I am comfortable with myself and with who I am.
I think that is all… I am drained from writing this as I bet you are from reading it. But I feel better… much much better.
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Based on reading it, I would like to meet you, if this is feasible. It would seem only fair to write a similar post in return, but I'm afraid you're a bit ahead of me in inventorying, sorting, and stacking your navel lint. We have a number of points in common, such as the effect of parenting on our lives, and being giving people; and some in complement -- I get some things out of Domming similar to what you get from subbing, for example -- and one or two plain misses, such as my lack of understanding of tattooing. It's your skin, fine; but why that?
My Mom is affectionate, and my Dad mostly is not, which is why a hug from him has much more meaning. Me, I'm a very touch-oriented person.
Anyhoo, I'm going to friend you and hope you return the privilege, and if you'd like more contact I'm up for a conversation in whatever medium you choose except IM, which I'm terrible at.
best,
Joel