Finding myself

“Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have. I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.”
― Lana Del Rey

I started this blog when I was at the beginning of a journey. Funnily enough at the beginning I didn’t know if it would lead anywhere, nor where that place would be.

I didn’t wake up one day and think: I know what, I’ll become a sex blogger. But as someone with limited sexual experience at the age of 50, writing about my newfound experiences seemed to be worthwhile. What’s more, I am glad I did. Especially the times when I’ve written about my hopes and fears, my feelings. Even though I don’t dwell on past relationships, documenting them here has meant I have the opportunity to look back to see where I’ve come from.

Now though, I think I am there. I have arrived at the place, the life I wanted. I am living my own fantasy. Plus, for all I live in a 24/7 M/s relationship I am free of the invisible ties that seemed to keep me in an unhappy place for so long. In April I was at last divorced and so a process that began 30 years ago came to fruition. I knew a long time ago I had made a mistake in choosing my husband, but I stayed and saw the relationship through to its bitter end.

I saw my ex yesterday, I collected a letter from him. We stood outside our former marital home for 10 minutes or so. It was enough. I don’t miss much about the home and certainly nothing about my life with him. We had good times and have a son to show for our long marriage. But I’ve learned more in the past 8 years about sex and relationships than I did in the rest of my adult life.

This life, master and I have together isn’t perfect. Who’s is? I’m struggling a bit with my submission. some days I don’t think I want our relationship to be a power exchange. But then when I think things through I know that I need it. I rebel and push against it, but it keeps me safe. It stops me having to worry about making decisions. I worry that I don’t feel as aroused as I want to be (medication causes that I think). But I also know that once we touch, kiss or have sex I am me again. A sexual being, that craves the dominance he provides me with. He makes me feel fulfilled and free to be myself.

I’m at a crossroads here. I love my blog but am tired of it too. I want to write, but often can’t. It feels like time for a change in direction, but I don’t know what that means or where it might take me. There will definitely be a rebrand in the coming weeks, I’ve started to think about how the blog might look. What I’m less sure of is the content.

Thanks to LSBs meme Quote Quest and Lana Del Rey’s beautiful lyrics in her haunting song Ride for the inspiration for this post. Maybe using more quotes to inspire is the way forward?

Endings and Beginnings

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning.” – Louis L’Amour

What a fabulous idea for a meme. The lovely LSB has launched Quote Quest and this is the very first quote.

Endings

I guess the trouble with endings is that you can’t always work out when something is finished or ended. Take relationships. It’s only in looking back that I can measure (approximately) when I knew my marriage was over. There are several contenders. You see, I’d been going through the motions for years but there was a day when I decided that there had to be more to life. The first time I met S and decided to embark on a relationship with him. The day that my ex found out about S. More likely the day S had finished with me and I didn’t beg my husband to take me back.

2018 was a massive year of endings. I helped my mum move into a more suitable home, packed up my own belongings and moved in with Master. I resigned my job and left that then developed breast cancer, which felt at the time an ending to my life as an attractive woman.

Beginnings

But actually all those endings brought with them beginnings. My mum’s move has helped develop and nurture my relationship with the elder of my two brothers. We have to work together to keep her safe and we have to speak to each other to prevent her playing us off against each other.

I’ve been back to the house I lived in for 27 years and it is no longer home. I have no feelings about it and now look on Masters house as home. That did take a long time, probably 18 months. I felt I was a visiter, but now we’ve begun to decorate and buy new things that are ours I feel more secure.

The house move and the injection of cash that went with it meant I could stop working. I’m conscious I have some dependency on Master but am learning to park that in a very tiny corner of my brain. My money is invested and I have an income. Plus, I also have my apartment in France. So, there really is very little for me to worry about on that score. Not working opened up some amazing opportunities. So in the past two years I’ve had time to go to galleries and museums. To attend concerts and learn about classical music. I’ve travelled extensively and last year for the first time ever was away from home on holiday for 5 straight weeks. The best part of not working though is not feeling tired and stressed all the time. Indeed, I didn’t know I was tired until I wasn’t any more.

This year has been weird. But the enforced time at home has brought with it some silver linings. I have plants in pots and I have my tomato plants. Plus, I have plans for growing more things. I’ve almost finished my cross stitch that has taken 5 years and I have a new one that I’m determined to complete in a fraction of the time. I’ve stepped up my French online lessons and am on the lookout for resources to help with my comprehension of spoken French. I am hopeful of the opportunity to practice in real life by September.

Taking a negative and making it into a positive

I can’t pretend that I haven’t struggled these past months. We should be in Spain right now. My weight hasn’t increased but I’ve lost the momentum for weight loss. The surgery I thought I’d have at this autumn is now a distant hope. In fact I am wondering if it would be worth the effort. Breast reconstruction is big stuff. The surgery lasts at least 8 hours and the recovery is long.

I’ve grown used to my body as it is. I’d rather have two boobs but it isn’t the end of the world. I have my health and my partner loves me as I am.

I’m looking forward to a future when we aren’t all fearful of stepping outside the door. I want to eat in a restaurant again and stay in a hotel. Coronavirus is something I will be very glad to see the back of. But as I said at the beginning we probably won’t know when we are living normally again until we are. I’m pretty sure it will happen and I know we’ll look back on this year and hopefully embrace the beginnings it allows us to have.

I am, because we are

It is a coincidence that as I walked home yesterday I was thinking about this topic. Wondering about who I am now as we enter the 7th year of our life together. Wondering whether I am worthy as his submissive and partner. I came to the conclusion that we are where we are because of who we are, together. So, some background.

Last weekend was the 6th anniversary of the day we met in person. This year we celebrated by going out for dinner. We often eat out, but usually it’s because we are doing something away from home and dinner out is easier. This was a meal out for itself.

Today I received notice that the first part of my divorce, the decree nisi will be heard in court in March. 6 weeks and one day later I will be divorced. My entire blog catalogues my own journey to this point. In many ways I am the person I was at the beginning, but of course events have changed me. Plus taking on the role of slave and starting a new long term relationship has added to that.

The person I was

Confused, probably sums it up. As I approached my 50th birthday I knew change was needed. My life wasn’t going as it should and I wanted something different. Trouble was I didn’t know what that different was or how to go about getting it. I consider my self lucky that the two men I met along the way helped guide me towards discovering what that might be. The fall out from my ex was hard to bear. Last week while reading some old posts from 2013 to link to my privacy post I came across some very disturbing writing.

My husband was playing me. I know that now since at the time he was already in another relationship (still unknown to me). But meanwhile he manipulated me and made me feel I was beyond dreadful for cheating on him. He made me sleep deprived by turning up early in the morning and then he snooped through my emails and was generally horrible. All the time I cooked meals for him if he decided to be home. Made sandwiches and did his washing. YES, I actually did those things. I was a complete doormat. I now know I should have kicked him out and changed the locks. But that’s with the benefit of hindsight.

The person I am

From the beginning of my relationship with Master things changed. He listened to me and helped me work out how to navigate the way ahead. I didn’t always to what he suggested to begin with. But usually there was some method in his ideas. His own other relationship was messy and so we worked through those times together. Sometimes that meant just being there for each other. I know there were times when he felt less dominant for it, but this was a human need not about power exchange dynamics. Not many months after we met my father became terminally ill and died. The support Master provided during that time set the scene for the kind of partner he would be.

Running parallel to all of those more intimate and personal elements of our relationship is the kink. Power, Dominance, submission, kinky sex and play. Over the years we have learned what is our norm. The things that feel safe and right. But we have also pushed each other to try new things.

For a very long time we played in the privacy of our own home and occasionally in a privately hired dungeon. It was also a while before we ventured to Munches and in the end it was through talking to people at those events that drew us to play events. Then recently we started meeting up with some people we met at one of those. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that often I’d prefer to stay at home. Well until I’m there that is. But that is also true of attending vanilla events even with friends.

Am I submissive enough? Is he dominant enough?

These were my thoughts as I listened to some podcasts while travelling yesterday (details below). My idea of submission at the beginning of this journey was based on erotica and other blogs. Training plans for submissives, men with dungeons in their basements, kneeling naked etc. It isn’t like that. For obvious reasons. But when Master tells me I’ve been bratty, I do stop and think. When he tells me to kneel and suck his cock I do it. When he asks me if I’ve achieved the things in my planner, I do reflect. And when he tells me his is proud of the person I glow with pride.

He has helped me become the slave he wants, but also I have helped him to become the dominant I need. Our life together is the one we have made together and it isn’t like anyone else’s I’m sure. But it occurs to me that we are who we are and I am the person I am because of us.

At some point soon, I am going to draw a line on some of the past. We share enough history on this blog not to need to go back further. The posts will remain but they will be archived from view. They are not ones that are retweeted anyway. Time to move on.

Thoughts generated from the following podcasts

Home

14th July Fireworks from my balcony in France

Concepts of home have become more difficult for me to articulate over recent years. What does home really mean to me? Is home a place, a person, a state of mind? Unusually, I read the Food for Thought posts already posted before writing this. Now I’m not sure if I’m clearer or if the waters are more muddy. Let’s see.

Childhood

We moved to the house I would consider my childhood home when I was around 5. I have a few memories of the first place, but they may just be from photos I’ve seen. Home was my parents and brothers. My grandparents and cousins visiting. It was family Christmas’ and my room.

As a teenager I got my dad to paint it purple. I had my own little portable cassette deck, my books and other special possessions. It’s the place I did my homework and wrote. Once I got a boyfriend it’s a place I took him, though my mum was forever calling me downstairs!

I got married from that home (though I had moved out 6 months before) and then my parents moved to a new house. I felt at home in their new place, but it wasn’t my home.

Our homes

Hubby and I also owned two houses during the course of our marriage. Our first was special because I’d never lived anywhere that afforded real privacy. By that, I mean that parents and brothers could walk in at home and the home warden at my nurses accommodation. Here only we had a key, everyone else had to knock. That made it home. Then the fact we decorated and chose furniture and furnishings. Finally because it was just us. It was a place that we conceived our son and brought him home to. Later I discovered things hadn’t been as I imagined, because his infidelity started at around that time.

When my son was just 3 months old we moved. I wanted somewhere we could bring up a family, a bigger home and better neighbourhood. The new place was fine to begin with. We decorated, but often struggled to make it feel right (for me that is). However it was my son’s home and over time it became mine too. A place of sanctity, somewhere to hide when things were difficult.

At the end, when my ex had all but gone, it felt like the home it had never been. I spent days and nights there alone and became familiar with every nook and cranny. But when it came time to leave, I knew it was right.

My ex still lives there. I’ve been back and it feels no more like home than any other house in that street. That’s not because they have decorated and have new furniture. I’ve felt that way since I loaded my car with my remaining things and closed the door on that part of my life.

Looking back, I am still not sure that home was ever with my ex. But having my son there made it feel that it was at the time.

Now

We live in Master’s house. To begin with it was very weird, but gradually it has become home. Partly because my possessions have found their place and I have made changes to how things are. Also because we have started to decorate and make plans about how things will be. But this is a home because we are here together. I have a feeling about the concept of home that I didn’t have before.

There is one other place I call home. It’s a small apartment in France that I own (well jointly own with the ex). But it is my bolt hole. It’s the place I went to escape the pain and sadness when my life seemed to be falling apart. I’ve laughed, cried, got drunk and had amazing sex there. It is the place I’d run to if things went tits up here with Master. But it is also the place we go to and gradually it has become something of home to him too. Our place, our home.

Relationships

I’ve been thinking about the different relationships I have had in my life. That I don’t make friends easily and that those relationships often haven’t endured on more than a superficial level. I had few boyfriends before my husband, but then we started going out when I was 15. This means that I have had a sexual relationship with few men and no woman. But relationships with others are important to me and while living alone was ok, I prefer living as I do now.

Childhood friends

I struggled to make friends as a child. I am not sure why. I tried to have a birthday party once, but as my birthday is in August, no one could come. Or maybe they didn’t want to. My life at primary school wasn’t especially happy and the one friend I had moved away. However I did have friends in my street, mostly younger and I don’t remember holidays being particularly troublesome.

At secondary school things improved. I got together with another girl in my year and we were good friends for many years. I still have a number of other friends from school that I am still in contact with. I wouldn’t say I am close to any of them, but I do consider them friends.

When I was 18 I had a party and loads of friends came. Weird to think that was the first birthday party (other than family) that I ever had. Around that time there was a whole group of us that spent lots of time together, going to pubs, for meals and to parties. This lasted until we all started to marry and have children. But as I said I am still in touch with a few.

Boyfriends

My first real boyfriend was the man who became my husband. But before that I briefly saw two boys in my street. The first was my next door neighbour. We only ever went on one date together to the cinema. But we spent a lot of time talking and snogging in the alley behind our houses. He was the first person I let touch me and he had the first penis I ever touched. Then I briefly went out with a boy from over the road who took me bowling on his motorbike.

My mum forbade me from going on that bike, which was why I went. His mates and girlfriends were also there and we had a fun evening. He then asked me over to his house while his parents were away. But again his friends were there and we passed a boring evening as the conversation centred around biking. I didn’t rate his kissing abilities either so ended things.

Then another neighbour asked me out. He was a bit older (19 to my almost 16) and this time it felt right. We went out on our own, to a local youth club and met up with his friends as well as mine. This because a proper relationship and led eventually to marriage. He and I didn’t have PIV sex until I was 18, though we did plenty other stuff.

Family

My parents were both only children, but my nan was one of 9. My brothers and I had loads of cousins that we spent time with as we grew up. These relationships have endured more than some of my friendships and I consider some of those cousins to be friends.

The bond between me and my brothers strengthened once we all married and had children. We holidayed with both families, though not all together. We socialised together a lot and often my parents and my nan were present. For around 10 years our social life centred around those relationships until my brothers marriages broke up one after the other. I remain friendly with both sisters in law, but I don’t see them often.

Since my dad died and my mum moved to be closer to the elder of my two brothers, he and I have become close again. They are probably the only people Master and I regularly socialise with other then my son and his wife.

Work

I’ve been friends with many work colleagues over the years, but those relationships have rarely endured us going our separate ways. My work friendships have been much like my school ones. Though social media helps keep some contact with people.

Online relatonships

Around the time we got our first computer at home, I had started to get bored with my life. I’ve written quite a bit about my relationship with my husband, you can read about it here. Soon I learned about internet chat rooms and began to chat with both men and women. It was quite a time though before I met anyone I chatted to, but whenI did there was some romance and then non PIV sex involved. I don’t feel particularly proud about cheating on my husband in this way. But at the time |I was looking for excitement and also to find out if I had missed out on anything. It turned out I had.

In April 2012 I met S online (read more here) and that was a catalyst for massive changes in my life. Those changes led directly to me meeting Master and ending up where we are now.

Looking back

I’m really a very self contained person who is happy in her own company. But I do need the opportunity to be with other people. I am a little sad that many of my friendships haven’t endured. But perhaps I haven’t been brilliant at putting in the effort. Though of course this is a two way process.

My romantic and sexual relationships have been few. But the important ones endured and I’ll be perfectly happy if I don’t need another one. This relationship is hopefully for life.

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Remembering

When we were in the throws of separating my husband told me that he felt that our whole life together had been a waste. That I had ruined all of the good things we had together by my act of infidelity and decision not to remain with him. That was a bit rich coming from a man who had been unfaithful first. But this post is not about that. It is about my response. Which was: I wouldn’t change the things we did together, the family times, holidays and of course our son. Much less the 5 years before we married and the fun things we did afterwards, but before our son was born. I know that 6 years on he thinks differently, but in the heat of the moment I understand why he reacted as he did.

There are many things in my life that I would approach differently, but nothing I would really change. My memories of our long relationship are in the main happy ones. That wasn’t always the case because they were marred by my bitterness of the way he, I and we handled certain situations. But also of my general sense of unhappiness of a life less than fulfilled. So even when I was doing something fun, I found it difficult to just be happy. I was always comparing myself and my relationship with that of others. Perceiving myself to be suffering some how. This is weird, because some of those relationships were nothing to write home about.

But now, from the safety of a happy relationship with a man I know I love and trust I see things differently. I remember with fondness our holidays and family days. As my son was an only child and he has 4 cousins one or more of them came on our trips out and sometimes holidays. Sometimes my parents, their grandparents came along too.

That I spent too much time alone with my son while my husband was either working or pretending to is a source of irritation. It has affected their longer term relationship. But I no longer have to defend him or make excuses for it. I should have been braver and left him sooner. But I am no longer living in the land of what if.

Just as when Master and I discuss that it would have been good if we had met sooner. There is no point in worrying about what might have happened if we had. The experience of life has given me the memories I have. There are times I would rather forget, but know that remembering is more useful. I won’t be fooled in the way I was when young, but at the same time I can let go. I can remember the good and leave the irritations I once felt in the mist of time.

what is more I am making new memories, with Master with my son and with family and friends. It’s good to look back but healthy too to have an eye on the present and what is to come.

F4Thought

A guy I knew

While I have alluded to his presence in my life some years ago, I have never actually written about Kevin on my blog. When we met for the first time he was the first person I had met through the internet. He lived about an hour away and was around 10 years older than me. I had never travelled to meet a man before and wasn’t even sure why I was meeting this one. He turned out to be kind, gentle and a good listener.

Kevin was originally from the North of the country, a former teacher turned local politician. He was a committed socialist, our values were similar, though several degrees to the left of mine. Kevin was married, he said his wife was busy doing her own thing and that she had also strayed. He was looking for a bit of fun. I wasn’t sure what I was seeking, but for a while Kevin filled the gaps in my life.

Over the course of a couple of summers we met every few weeks, for lunch and then a kiss and a cuddle. This often took place in a field or wooded area in the countryside. He fancied me like mad and touched me a lot. He gave amazing orgasms both with his hands and tongue. I hadn’t experienced the like before. Recently diagnosed diabetes has rendered him impotent, so much so that he was unable to get and erection. So he made every encounter about me.

Gradually we drifted apart. He definitely had other women, given he accidentally sent me the wrong text more than once. Plus he worked / volunteered crazy hours as a local politician, especially during elections. Then I met S and I told Kevin that I thought it best we didn’t meet any more. He was gracious and we continued to text each other on birthdays and Christmas. But I didn’t see Kevin after summer 2012.

A year or so ago, a message appeared on facebook saying he had been diagnosed with cancer and was about to start treatment. He was a long term smoker, perhaps I wasn’t massively surprised by the news. I texted to send good wishes and then when I received my own diagnosis I texted again and we exchanged a few words of encouragement to each other. I never heard from him again.

This week I decided to drop him a line to check how he was. I didn’t receive a reply. Today I googled him and discovered he died at the beginning of May. He was well known in his home town and so I found details of the death, funeral and a memorial service in his honour. A public occasion attended by 500 people. clearly a testimony to the man he was.

Kevin was a guy I knew for a while. He was kind and funny, passionate and loving. I don’t know if his wife knew of the other women in his life, my husband at the time certainly didn’t know. I am proud to have known him and sad that this is the only place I can say goodbye to him.

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When life gets in the way

Today’s 30 days of D/s question is about what happens when the trials of life get in the way of a dominant / submissive relationship. Like most couples, we have had our challenges. Stuff has happened that has caused us to put our M/s dynamic onto the back burner a little. The most obvious ones were when my dad was ill and then died and when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

My dad’s illness and death

My dad died of cancer in September 2014 when Master and I had only been together for 7 months. I regret that they never met each other, because I know they would have got on well. I didn’t introduce them because by the time things were getting serious between Master and I, my dad was already pretty unwell. But it just didn’t seem the right thing to do. This did however provide me with a haven, a place to go when things got difficult.

For the last few weeks I practically lives with my parents. Caring for dad, supporting my mum and family and dealing with practicalities. But this was massively draining, and other than my son, I really had no one to turn to. Master became a great source of support for me as well as a shoulder to cry on. He had lost his dad a few years before, so was able to provide the empathy I needed.

On the face of it our M/s took a back seat as I prioritised family. But, while I was busy making massive decisions and leading my family through the pain, Master was there behind me. Looking back, our dynamic may have been in the background, but it never disappeared. Shortly after the funeral, Master took me away to Amsterdam and there we were able to reaffirm my submission and his dominance.

Breast cancer

The events of last autumn unsurprisingly hit us both very hard. During the run up to my surgery, there were numerous hospital appointments. For a while we took in the information we were given and made decisions together. This was done on an equal footing, with me having the final say about what would happen. As it was, there were no disagreements and we pretty much went along with the advice given by the doctors.

Master provided me with the most amazing support while I underwent surgery and recovered afterwards. We both struggled to come to terms with my new body shape and image. But helped each other cope. He was very firm with me during the following few months, making sure I didn’t do too much, had sufficient rest and got out and about as part of my recovery.

Just as happened when my dad died, our M/s dynamic was placed on the back burner, but never disappeared. Master continued to care for me and protected me. But this time our relationship was more established and of course by then we were living together.

Over all, I think that the big events we have encountered so far have strengthened our relationship. Both in terms of us as a couple, but also our dynamic.

Loving BDSM 30 Days of D/s

Holding hands

Two people, a man and a woman holding hands.

There is something very special about holding hands with someone you love and care for. It is a way of being intimate with them, of feeling close to them but in a way that is conforms and is acceptable within social norms. What I mean is, holding a lovers hand while in the street is acceptable, while grabbing their tit isn’t. Equally we will hold the hand of a child for safety and protection as much as anything else. This topic has me thinking about the people whose hands I have held during my life.

Being a child

I distinctly remember that I wasn’t the kind of child that wanted to be cuddled or held. I am pretty sure I would have been a nightmare to keep safe when out and about. Except in those days, our parents put reins on us. This was a kind of leather harness that went around the chest, with a strap for a parent to hold. Either that or I was probably holding onto a pram or push chair since I was the eldest of 3. The middle of us was born when I was 18 months and my younger brother when I was 5. I guess I must have held hands with a parent, but don’t remember. However I do remember holding the hand of my little brother.

He and I were very close, I often liked to mother him being the big sister. He loved to hold my hand, or sit on my lap or generally be close. I guess that told me that one day hand holding would become a thing for me.

Getting a boyfriend

As a teenager, nothing informed people about the fact you had got yourself an actual boyfriend quite like being seen in public holding hands. Except being seen snogging (as we called it), that is. In the early days my ex and I held hands a lot. We also sat together on the sofa when at either parents and even when we got our own place. Holding hands when out was definitely about possession, but also closeness and intimacy. Somewhere along the way that diminished over time. We also of course acquired a child who often walked between us.

Being a mother

To begin with they grasp your finger in their hand and then later you take their little hand as they begin to take their first faltering steps. I loved it when my little boy grabbed my hand, when he needed reassurance or to feel safe. He was a different child to the one I had been, more like my brother. I was his mum though and so keeping him safe, providing care and love was my job. Sometimes of course he clung to me to stop me leaving him and I know that within minutes he was holding the hand of another adult – a carer, teacher, his dad. I can’t deny though that I loved the fact that he wanted to be with me, to hold my hand. That he would climb on my lap and settle down and then take my hand. For anyone reading this who has small children, relish those days. Because suddenly they are grown up and instead are holding the hand of another.

The last touch

During the final days of my dads life we cared for him at home. I took time off of work to be with he and my mum as well as other family members. For the last week or so, I stayed over too. I spent many hours holding his hand as he lay in bed growing weaker and weaker. I guess I held his hand more then, than I ever had as a child. But it was important to let him know that I was there even when he was unable to communicate to us verbally. Those memories stay with me and I am grateful for them.

Now

We hold hands on the sofa watching tv and we hold hands when we are at the theatre or a concert. We probably held hands while at Eroticon last weekend. Less frequently though, we hold hands when we are out. Master has the habit of seeming to be in a hurry even when he isn’t. He can’t bare people dawdling in front of us, getting in the way. So he tends to walk more quickly and then have to wait for me to catch up.

Late at night though, when there are fewer people and we are heading home from somewhere, then we will often hold hands.

I am 56 now, not 16 so I really don’t mind. It is often difficult to walk along holding hands when people around you are looking at their phones rather than the path. When there are obstacles in the way. Anyway I don’t need to be holding his hands to know that I am his, and that he is mine. These days though, I do love to hold hands.

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Settling in

Another Saturday and another day spent sorting and unpacking things in the summer heat. Settling in to my new life is going to take time.

On the whole, I am enjoying coming in from work and having my dinner cooked for me. No need to decide what to cook or eat, no worries. And yet, I am not sure that is how I want my life to be. Nor, will it be like this as we move forward. I had a slight moment on Wednesday when I panicked about having no role. But in truth it is part of readjusting to life as it is now. Anyway, within a month things will be different.

I am now in the final month of my notice period. I have begun to sort files, delete old stuff and tie up loose ends. Luckily the person taking on my job is someone I know and work with so the hand over should be straight forward. The good byes will be more difficult and the leaving do a little poignant. We are going to look at a possible venue after work on Monday, my birthday.

Moving on

This month really is one of good byes and moving on to a new life. Yesterday was my mother in law’s funeral. For the first time in 4 or 5 years, I saw my father in law and my ex’s family. While a sad occasion, as she died suddenly, it was also pleasant. I enjoyed seeing everyone and chatting to people I was once quite close to. I came away feeling that this was all part of ending my old life and moving on to the new one. Another part of settling in.

Perhaps things happen as they do for a reason.

So, to this blog.

For the whole time I have been writing it, the blog has been about a journey. About self discovery, about moving on and finding my place in the world. Latterly it has been about finding my slave place, about our sex and kink life.

There is still more of that to do, but this feels like a defining time for me. Will the focus of the blog change? Will I write about different things? What do I actually want to write about?

The past month has been a whirlwind of a time. We have been so busy that there has been precious little sex and kink. There has been no real time to write the blog, even if I had felt inclined. Now though I need to get myself back on track, probably through some of the memes.

Please though, dear reader, bear with me while I find my new place. While I am settling in to my new role, find time and the words to write.

I sense there will be exciting times and lots to say.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked