January 29, 2015
"And even though I know how very far apart we are;
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star."
Loved this song when I was a little girl (chronologically).
I've had it in my head the last several days as I am home struggling with health issues and my Daddy Dom has been away on business and then delayed by the blizzard when he was to originally come back home to me.
I am always pouty when he is geographically further from me. Even if we still have constant contact. It's odd, that, I know he is always with me even if we aren't physically together.....and when we are both home we are still not physically in one another's presence often enough for my liking.....but when one or the other of us have to travel I start to feel disconnected, pouty, adrift, alone almost instantaneously.
I am a strange creature.
Actually, I'm not. I know many other sub girls feel this sort of emotional rollercoaster when separated from their own Dom. I am simply a very attached Daddy's girl. And that's okay.
We have spoken every single day of his absence, multiple times. He has tucked me into bed every single night with his silky smooth voice lulling me off to dreamland. And yet, I miss him. I miss him so very much. I get teary-eyed even typing that. :(
Of course my mood isn't helped by the fact that my 10th wedding anniversary to my Marine was yesterday.
Or the fact that I am still practically buried in snow with more than another 2 foot on the way over the next 4 days.
I am just a mess. A huge jumbled emotional mess.
The bright spot of my night at least is knowing that at this very moment, my Daddy is boarding his flight back home to take care of his little girl. It took 3 separate changes in itinerary and close navigation of the approaching storm as the last departed but finally, he found a 4-6 hour slot of time where he could make it safely home, after more than a week away.
Somewhere out there, up in the dark night sky is a jet bringing this man back home where he belongs, to the waiting & whiny arms of his emotional little girl. :(
January 23, 2015
It is no big secret that I have trust issues. I can't actually remember a time when I didn't. It's just something I long ago determined was an innate part of me that I had to accept.
I guess somewhere inside of my cluttered mind I am convinced, if I don't extend trust then I don't open myself up to being hurt or let down. Over the last three years, my Daddy Dom has tried to show me that trusting selectively can be and most often is worth it. By refusing to trust the nature of others, I protect myself from inevitable disappointment but I am also missing out on a full, happy life. I suppose on some level I understand his logic.
It isn't as if I trust no one at all. I implicitly trust my Daddy Dom. I have a very small group of true friends that I trust as well. My brothers make the list as well. And anything with four legs has my vote of confidence. That is likely about the extent of the list.
As I face yet another health care hurdle, I am having issues with letting go of the control and trusting my physicians. Even though they are world-class doctors, personal friends of mine, colleagues who have only my best interest at heart. I know it makes no sense, but I am struggling. It isn't that I doubt their abilities. It is simply the lack of control. I can not seem to let go of the reigns long enough to allow them to help me beat this.
Strange, that. I am a submissive AND a control freak. Odd combination, I know but it is absolutely an accurate depiction of the paradox that is me.
It is different with him.......because HE is different. HE has never let me down, never disappointed me, never deceived me, never failed me, never left me. I can trust him. I can let go of control with him. I can submit, acquiesce, give in and know in my head and in my heart that he will take care of me. Placing that trust in others is incredibly difficult and bordering on impossible for me.
I need to make a decision in the immediate future regarding my care and I still find myself struggling with the prospect of fully trusting and relinquishing control to my medical team. But Daddy doesn't and insists I should be able to do this. To trust them, to give up some control for a short time.
Why is this so difficult for me?
Perhaps if I can not convince myself that it is okay to relinquish control to them, I can convince myself to relinquish control to Him and rely on my trust in him and his trust in them.
It is similar to my own children and I, in a way. My kids do not trust their pediatrician, but I do, which makes them okay with it. My kids do not select and trust their own educators, daycare providers, coaches, tutors.....but I do and I trust them, which makes them also okay with trusting these people. I am teaching my children to selectively trust other people to act in their best interest, and yet I, myself, continue to struggle with it at 29. Mind boggling.
But perhaps I can use the same logic to make this decision. If I can not give up control enough to put my full trust into my medical team when I know the decision needs made, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I *can* fully trust my Daddy and relinquish the control to him and depend on his trust, as my protector, in them.
So many thoughts.
So little time.
January 21, 2015
It may have taken me 26 years but I, too, found my best friend. My Daddy.
He knows me. All of me. Not just the 'public face me'. Not just the 'happy me'. Truly, all of me. And he loves me any way.
There is not another person I trust like I trust my Daddy.
There is not a person I respect more in the world.
When I am lost, he is my guide.
When I am scared by my freedom, he is my anchor.
When I am hurt, he is by my side.
When I am stressed, he is my voice of reason.
When I cry, it is only on his shoulder.
When I vent, it is to his ear.
When I overstep my boundaries, it is his hard hand that metes out my consequences.
When I am overwhelmed & need to run away and hide, it is always to his protective embrace.
We can talk for hours or say nothing at all; and I am content.
His presence alone lulls me.
The rhythm of his heart beating, his scent, his strong arms, his intoxicatingly piercing brown eyes, his deep silky smooth voice.
Whenever I need him, he is here. Always with me. Often times before I have ever even verbalized that need. He simply knows.
My rock. My #1 fan. My moral compass. My sounding board. My disciplinarian. My confidante. My Daddy. My very best friend.
January 20th, 2015
I have had moments like this. Lots of them.
Mind numbing rage, anger, disdain, blinding fury.
I imagine most of us have had moments like this in our lives, at one point or another.
Some of us, ahem Irish, have far more triggers to our blind rage, but the beast of anger lives within us all. I believe it is how we handle it that is what differs.
My anger today is the direct result of someone else's misplaced anger. And it is truly upsetting to me on so many different levels.
I struggled with self-discipline regarding controlling my own anger for the vast majority of my young life. I was always angry. I had a wire-hair trigger and a viscous mouth. I lashed out a lot. Looking back now I understand a lot of my rage moments had nothing to do with being angry at all, aside from the fact that anger was my go-to emotion because it is always easiest to deal with compared to the true, deeper issues of insecurity, fear and sadness. Tough girls don't get sad or scared, we get pissed the f*ck off. Or so was the motto for my first 25 years of existence.
Actually, even now I wouldn't say I have the "self-discipline" to control it, but I do have the "Daddy-discipline" to keep it contained.
One of the most valuable lessons my Daddy Dom has taught me is how to control my temper. Daddy says "anger is an over rated emotion, young lady." I have always understood the principle behind this lecture, but tonight it may just be truly registering inside of my head for the first time on this level.
This morning another loose canon entered a sister facility, asked for one of my colleagues/friends/professors and shot him. Twice.
Why?
Because he was angry. He was furious that this incredibly skilled surgeon could not defy the laws of mortality, perform an unachievable miracle and save this person's ailing, elderly mother a few months back.
That's it.
Anger.....as a blanket disguise for this person's true feelings of sadness, pain, fear. Just like I was not that long ago. How senseless. How unfair. How downright wrong.
This amazing human being who I respect and look up to....this selfless man who spends 16-36 hours at the hospital at a time....this incredibly skilled surgeon who has saved or positively impacted countless lives in his short career now clings to life in critical condition as we do all we can to grant him the same miracle he has performed for so many patients himself.
Nothing good came out of today.
Nothing good came from this anger.
More hurt. More fear. More pain. More fury.
Can the world not heed this lesson?
ANGER IS OVER RATED!
01/19/2015
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I just need my ass beat.
I'm in an incredibly spank horny mood right now and there's only one viable solution.
I just need beat.
January 17, 2015
77% of communication is nonverbal. Amazing, isn't it? Hearing that figure initially, I was hesitant to believe it, it seems incredibly high for such a verbal society.
However, as I pondered the thought further, I began to not only agree but wonder if the true figure may even be higher. When you include things like facial expression, body language, hand gestures, written, unspoken expectations, etc. it is easy to see the 77% start to fit.
Below are very clear statements my Daddy Dom makes to me without uttering a single word.
The hands on the hips "you are treading on thin ice, little girl." warning.
The "tsk, tsk" finger wag for minimal naughtiness.
The very typical (and intimidating) angry paternal stance with his strong arms folded across his broad chest as he shoots me a penetrating glare.
The tummy-knotting "come here, right now, young lady" crooked finger gesture as I stare at him doe-eyed from the corner.
This "you go ahead and pout & plead all you want to, young lady, you've crossed the line and you're not escaping this punishment." slow, methodical rolling of his perfectly pressed Oxford sleeves up to his elbows so his full swing isn't hampered by his attire.
The classic and ever anxiety provoking "we are done talking, little girl" statement made as he unbuckles his belt preparing to whip my naughty, upturned, bare bottom until it is criss-crossed with angry, red welts.
The simultaneous hair-pull/face slap reserved for the mouthiest of naughty girls. When the verbal "Enough!" isn't sufficient, this one works every single time.
See? Oh so many nonverbal ways to communicate.......and that was just a list of ways his hands do the talking. :)
January 14, 2015
What I wouldn't give for this right now.
To be enveloped in your strong arms and held close to you.
To lay my head on your chest as you hold me tight.
To listen to the slow, rhythmic beat of your heart as I hide from the world in your protective embrace.
To linger here, hugging tightly to you, my eyes closed, my chaotic mind silent, my heart content.
Your touch, your scent, your strength, your reassurance.
What I wouldn't give.
01/12/2015
Some people are slaves to their addictions,
to their careers,
to the world's expectations,
to illness,
to debt,
to love,
to lust.
I am bound by you.
Held captive by my submission.
Hostage to your will.
January 11th, 2015
What is it about you that has changed the girl I was? The woman I am growing into?
What is it about you that makes me want more?
I have always been an over-achiever, but having you has pushed me even further. Why?
You have guided and directed me through an amazing transformation thus far; but still I want more.
You inspire me each day to want more, to demand more of myself, to seek more from life.
Initially I am not certain if the changes I acquiesced to were for me, or for you.
Actually, I am relatively certain they were for you. I wanted to please you. I needed you to be proud of me. And yet now, looking back, I see they are changes that I needed to make in order to please myself too.
Having you in my life has made me happy. Belonging to you, being *your* little girl has made me happy. Earning your pride, your love, your affections has made me happy. But.....the woman I am becoming under your watchful, protective eye & harsh, disciplinary hand is making me happy too.
I think in the beginning it was more a fantasy. A role play of sorts. A game (though I hate the term).
Over time, fantasy morphed with reality and I realized that you, we, meant more to me than I ever anticipated. As much as you demanded I obey.....I truly longed to obey. Winning your esteem was my focus. Your approval meant everything to me, and still does today.
When I cross the line now, my first concern is never the punishment I will endure as a result, like it was in the beginning. My first concern now is the knowledge that I have disappointed you, I have let you down, I have displeased you. That is far more painful to me than the spanking I will receive for my actions. I actually crave and look forward to the punishment, albeit anxiously, because I know that is my key to a clean slate, a way for me to pay for my poor choices, the path to your forgiveness.
When I think of all we have been through together, the time that has elapsed, the lessons learned, the relationship we have built.....I smile.
But I also analyze.
Somewhere along the journey of us, you somehow morphed your caring for me into me caring for me. And that Sir, is a lesson I never saw coming.
January 10th, 2015
I am soft and pliable.
He is hard and unwavering.
I am night.
He is day.
I am intuition.
He is logic.
I am cold.
He is hot.
Cherished, valued possession.
Owner, Protector, Master.
I am pessimistic.
He is optimistic.
I am right.
He is left.
I am chaos.
He is calm.
I am a masochist.
He is a sadist.
I am still.
He is moving.
Naughty, bratty, little girl.
Stern, rigid Daddy Dom.
I am loud.
He is quiet.
I am an extrovert.
He is an introvert.
I am feminine.
He is masculine.
I am submissive.
He is Dominant.
Yin and Yang.
Jan. 4th, 2015
I never know when *those calls* will come.
Occasionally, I can presume by my recent behavior that one might be on the horizon.
But other days, they materialize right out of thin air and take the breath from my lungs with a surprising jolt.
Yesterday, I got one of *those calls*.
If you are a submissive girl, you know the call to which I am referring.
From the moment you connect, the tone of his voice is markedly stern.
Your stomach knots, you bite your lip incessantly, pull at your trembling fingers for distraction as a lump appears at the back of your throat and your pretty little face transforms to a pout.
Regardless of your surroundings, whether in private or public, you feel small. Naughty. Vulnerable. Nervous.
You have to struggle to catch your breath in order to audibly, albeit meekly, reply to Him.
Some of you girls may receive *those calls* on a regular basis; I did far more often in the beginning of our D/s relationship than I do now. I actually rather rarely earn one of these calls now, and most often know it is coming before his ringtone blasts from my phone, but yesterday.....it seemed to come right out of thin air and caught me off guard.....and yes, I might have continued to pout for about 20 minutes afterward.
.png)
.png)
.png)
.png)
.jpg)
.jpg){kind=link}