I'm a little down in the dumps to be quite frank. I feel as though all the people I love have let me go.
It all started with Pixie returning to college out of state. This was harder on me than I had anticipated and I ignored the signs of depression that were evident at a glance. I knew I loved her, knew I depended on her, knew she was incredibly important and at the same time I knew, and know, how important it is for her to finish her degree. I wanted her to go and I want her to be a great success. I just didn't know how much it would hurt.
Then in February, Kirk, ex-boyfriend, long-term friend with benefits, announced that he was giving up sex for lent. This didn't affect just me. He had to "break-up" with 8 women around the country. Still, it was hard to give up that part of our friendship, especially since sex with him was the only real sex I could depend on getting on a regular basis. Once, twice, three times a month, and it was good sex, too, and it had always been good between us and suddenly, that was gone.
One short week later, SJ and I ended our M/s relationship and I was devastated. Let's be honest, I still am. I love him, miss him, want him back, and I go through periods, sometimes days of crying because I hurt so much and there seems to be no surcease to this sorrow, no end to this pain. I want to call "RED!!!" and have this horrible break-up scene end so that we can be back together. My toenails hurt, my hair follicles hurt, my eyelids hurt, each individual vertebrae is in searing agony and this pain just won't go away. I've begged him to take me back, I've begged him to marry me. He won't - he doesn't want me back, is happier without me. And that's what really hurts, the knowledge that he never wanted me in that way, that he loved me as best he could, but had never thought of me as a forever partner. I see our friends, multiples of them, getting married, this year and next year and I think, that should be us, we should be together, we should be getting married, and then I know real pain. Yes, I'm a masochist and can take anything anyone can dish out, because I know what real pain is and crucifixion is less painful than this, trust me, I know.
In the meantime, I've begun a relationship with a dear friend and have put my foot so deep in shit with his primary partner that I have no hope that we will ever be able to recover from the muck and mire. There was so much potential and I let myself believe that we had a shot. It was not to be, cherie`.
And now, today, I got some news. My forever girl, my lovely Liz, my rock, is moving to Philly to be with her Master. Scott and I will get her two months at a time of each 6 month period. I know she needs to do this. I know it will be a great adventure and one that will allow her to grow. I know it is another nail in my coffin and I simply don't have the strength not to cry over this tonight.
So that's what I'm doing. I'm sitting here crying for the loss of Liz, for this loss on top of so many losses this year. Each of these partners, I release any bonds I had so that they can journey down whatever path towards personal growth and fulfillment that they need to hike. I mean that sincerely. I wish them all well.
Tonight I also grieve for the losses, far too many this year.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
My luv is like a red, red rose
I am the most blessed person to be loved by so many wonderful, amazing people.
For my Liz, my love, my forever girl...Thank you for always being the rational sounding board counter-balancing my irrationalities. Thank you for listening, for hearing and for speaking from your heart. You inspire me to aspire!
For my pixie, my sweet, my first girl...Thank you for shining and giggling and twirling and always, always, always lending a helping hand before I think to ask and before I know I need it. You inspire me to rejoice!
For my Elle, my purrer, my funny girl...Thank you for letting your light shine, for speaking your mind, for opening your heart and listening with both. Thank you for these wonderful beginning bonds of familial and familiar love. You inspire me to explore!
For my CJ, my friend, my Daddy...Thank you for your belief in me, in my beauty, and for your strong embrace which reassures me that everything will be better, and for your love which surrounds me through each and every contact - text, phone, music, and touch. Thank you for dizzying heights of orgasmic bliss and tender caresses of caring love. You inspire me to dance!
I am blessed to know each of you, to have you in my life, and to be inspired in these and so many other ways, each and every day.
Grateful for all the roses which bloom in my garden ~ fairer
For my Liz, my love, my forever girl...Thank you for always being the rational sounding board counter-balancing my irrationalities. Thank you for listening, for hearing and for speaking from your heart. You inspire me to aspire!
For my pixie, my sweet, my first girl...Thank you for shining and giggling and twirling and always, always, always lending a helping hand before I think to ask and before I know I need it. You inspire me to rejoice!
For my Elle, my purrer, my funny girl...Thank you for letting your light shine, for speaking your mind, for opening your heart and listening with both. Thank you for these wonderful beginning bonds of familial and familiar love. You inspire me to explore!
For my CJ, my friend, my Daddy...Thank you for your belief in me, in my beauty, and for your strong embrace which reassures me that everything will be better, and for your love which surrounds me through each and every contact - text, phone, music, and touch. Thank you for dizzying heights of orgasmic bliss and tender caresses of caring love. You inspire me to dance!
I am blessed to know each of you, to have you in my life, and to be inspired in these and so many other ways, each and every day.
Grateful for all the roses which bloom in my garden ~ fairer
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Daddy danced with me
My Daddy danced with me this morning. Out of the blue and out of the mists, he came by and moments after opening the door, he had swept me in his arms, kissed me passionately, kissed me sweetly, kissed me tenderly, kissed me with his whole body, his whole being, as he is wont to do.
Daddy pulled me close to him, his arms gathering me within his strong embrace and he danced with me.
We moved as one, our hearts beating, breathing in unison, stepping and swaying, so quietly, so entwined, as Amy Winehouse sang of love.
This is a new and wonderful relationship, Daddy and me. I find I relish every moment, each interaction, each emoticon he creates and he creates in me such wonder, for how is it that I was blessed with this, this friendship, this relationship, this man, this Daddy.
He is loving and caring and nurturing and he is perverted and sexual and powerful and he takes my breath away with a sentence and then with his hand so much so that the air I breath comes from him and fills me with a light I would not have believed possible. My imagination, my creativity, my wonder and awe at all the possibilities this world holds have become limitless both in scope and power and I feel free to explore in ways I've never known.
There is a permissiveness in his love which allows me to explore all the wonderful dreams of what might be and how immense my options are which is tempered by this knowledge that no matter what happens, good - bad - otherwise - missteps and mistakes, my Daddy is here with a welcoming and ready embrace to rejoice in my joys, comfort my woes, guide my way and love me unrelentingly.
Relentless love, it is love without fear and without judgment and without ceasing. There is a quality to this man which bespeaks of great willingness to both inspire and be inspired. Ours is a two-way street of dreams.
For all of my adult life, I have been the care giver in relationships, the one tending to the needs of the other. In his, he has too. What a gift to find someone who cares and cares for me! For him as well. I told him that sometimes Daddy needs pampering too.
I long to serve him, to fetch his slippers when he comes home from work, to make his coffee in the morning, to bring him breakfast in bed, to bathe him and worship him and adore him with every fiber of my being and every ounce of my strength and every beating of my heart. I long for this in a way that is both familiar and foreign.
The desire to serve is familiar. In many ways, I believe that service is a primary calling for me. The need to serve the needs of another is simply part of my being, as natural as the next breath. The desire to serve him is foreign because I've never had someone take care of me before, not on this scale and to this extent. I've never been with a man who thought of me first, from a nurturing and controlling aspect. Ceding control to him is like sharing a coke with Mean Joe Green. It's not that you don't want your coke, you do, but you can see that it will be better, a 'good' will occur, for both parties, when you give your coke away, when you cede control of the coke to Mean Joe Green. And you do, without hesitation and without reservation, and I've discovered with Daddy, that the rewards are beyond even the value of a Hall of Fame, Superbowl winning, Pittsburgh Steelers' Jersey.
Awakening the knowledge and belief that I am sexy and beautiful and desirable and attractive and inspiring and responsive and caring and loving and empathetic and supportive and so many other awarenesses that he has awakened, so many other belief bonfires rekindled, so that I am ablaze with renewed confidence.
I love my Daddy.
~ His babyboo
Daddy pulled me close to him, his arms gathering me within his strong embrace and he danced with me.
We moved as one, our hearts beating, breathing in unison, stepping and swaying, so quietly, so entwined, as Amy Winehouse sang of love.
This is a new and wonderful relationship, Daddy and me. I find I relish every moment, each interaction, each emoticon he creates and he creates in me such wonder, for how is it that I was blessed with this, this friendship, this relationship, this man, this Daddy.
He is loving and caring and nurturing and he is perverted and sexual and powerful and he takes my breath away with a sentence and then with his hand so much so that the air I breath comes from him and fills me with a light I would not have believed possible. My imagination, my creativity, my wonder and awe at all the possibilities this world holds have become limitless both in scope and power and I feel free to explore in ways I've never known.
There is a permissiveness in his love which allows me to explore all the wonderful dreams of what might be and how immense my options are which is tempered by this knowledge that no matter what happens, good - bad - otherwise - missteps and mistakes, my Daddy is here with a welcoming and ready embrace to rejoice in my joys, comfort my woes, guide my way and love me unrelentingly.
Relentless love, it is love without fear and without judgment and without ceasing. There is a quality to this man which bespeaks of great willingness to both inspire and be inspired. Ours is a two-way street of dreams.
For all of my adult life, I have been the care giver in relationships, the one tending to the needs of the other. In his, he has too. What a gift to find someone who cares and cares for me! For him as well. I told him that sometimes Daddy needs pampering too.
I long to serve him, to fetch his slippers when he comes home from work, to make his coffee in the morning, to bring him breakfast in bed, to bathe him and worship him and adore him with every fiber of my being and every ounce of my strength and every beating of my heart. I long for this in a way that is both familiar and foreign.
The desire to serve is familiar. In many ways, I believe that service is a primary calling for me. The need to serve the needs of another is simply part of my being, as natural as the next breath. The desire to serve him is foreign because I've never had someone take care of me before, not on this scale and to this extent. I've never been with a man who thought of me first, from a nurturing and controlling aspect. Ceding control to him is like sharing a coke with Mean Joe Green. It's not that you don't want your coke, you do, but you can see that it will be better, a 'good' will occur, for both parties, when you give your coke away, when you cede control of the coke to Mean Joe Green. And you do, without hesitation and without reservation, and I've discovered with Daddy, that the rewards are beyond even the value of a Hall of Fame, Superbowl winning, Pittsburgh Steelers' Jersey.
Awakening the knowledge and belief that I am sexy and beautiful and desirable and attractive and inspiring and responsive and caring and loving and empathetic and supportive and so many other awarenesses that he has awakened, so many other belief bonfires rekindled, so that I am ablaze with renewed confidence.
I love my Daddy.
~ His babyboo
Thursday, March 22, 2012
It's been five days since I cried. That may be a record! Five days without a tear shed over him, over the loss. On Sunday, I saw him and we talked and for the first time I really knew that everything was going to be okay. I was going to be okay. I am going to be okay.
I saw him Saturday and I cried. We were just hanging out at SXSW with Mommy B, listening to music, commenting on the harmonies and the quality of the picking, drinking Shiner Light Blonde, and shopping in that way that we always did. "Hey, what do you think of this?" He bought a few things and I ended up with a t-shirt and nightie. It was good, but it was harrowing.
By the end of three hours, I was done in. I had had two Shiners and a hot dog. It was sunny, no water, and had eaten nothing prior to seeing him. All the emotion got tied up in knots and I cried. I had to leave. It was abrupt and the last thing he said was "I love you, baby." "I love you too, that's why this is so hard."
I think he moved on, made the emotional and psychological shift to friends, much more easily than I did. The kinesthetic pull was there, we held hands, hugged, kissed, talked, danced, and I tied his shoe laces, well that was Sunday.
The difference between Saturday's emotion and Sunday's appreciation actually took place Saturday night. I played with someone else. A dear friend took me to the depths of despair in a long, extremely intense scene. There was pain, so much pain and so many tears shed, and I needed every strike, every hit, every thrust, every cut, every weal and every bruise. My ass is still marked, the welts haven't healed, the bruises are deep enough to last weeks. It feels wonderful! And it showed me that I can move on, that I can experience pain and pleasure without being in service or enslaved, and probably most importantly, I can do all of these things with new people.
Once we went to a gang bang party, mainly because it was the host's birthday party and we were good friends with him. I didn't participate. SJ had a death grip on my wrist the entire evening. I loved it. Never before had he displayed any sense of ownership towards me, no sense of mine, until that night. That night, I knew I was his.
As we drove home that evening, we chatted back and forth, sharing our thoughts, and he told me he couldn't see me ever doing that, ever taking part in a gang-bang. The exception would be if he told me to do it. I nodded, said "Yes, Sir.", but in the back of my mind, I wondered. Was I the type of person who could have sex with so many strangers and not be battered emotionally as well as physically?
I decided to test that question. This weekend, I'm going to a gang-bang party and one of my goals is to see if I can do this. It's a big deal to have sex with anyone else let alone let 20 guys have their way with me. I plan on being blindfolded so I cannot see who is doing what to me, who is fucking me, who is fucking my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Just to become cunt all over and float in that space of being used, over and over again.
It may be too much for me, but I'm willing to give it a try. I am willing myself to do this, once again, to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can have sex again, that I can be with someone besides SJ. It may be rash, but I need to take this next step.
I also have a date Sunday night, to watch sports, eat wings and drink beer in Pluckers. The last time I was in Pluckers was with SJ and he triggered a massive orgasm as we sat at the bar. I don't know if that will happen Sunday, but it will be cool to hang with a friend, a very sexy friend, (who I just discovered is uncut and HUNG!) and get to know one another better.
So I have much to look forward to, much to be hopeful for, and much to be thankful for. I think most importantly, crossing these milestones puts distance between what was and what will be. Each step forward is not just a step away but also a step in the right direction.
Warm thoughts ~ KM Kern
I saw him Saturday and I cried. We were just hanging out at SXSW with Mommy B, listening to music, commenting on the harmonies and the quality of the picking, drinking Shiner Light Blonde, and shopping in that way that we always did. "Hey, what do you think of this?" He bought a few things and I ended up with a t-shirt and nightie. It was good, but it was harrowing.
By the end of three hours, I was done in. I had had two Shiners and a hot dog. It was sunny, no water, and had eaten nothing prior to seeing him. All the emotion got tied up in knots and I cried. I had to leave. It was abrupt and the last thing he said was "I love you, baby." "I love you too, that's why this is so hard."
I think he moved on, made the emotional and psychological shift to friends, much more easily than I did. The kinesthetic pull was there, we held hands, hugged, kissed, talked, danced, and I tied his shoe laces, well that was Sunday.
The difference between Saturday's emotion and Sunday's appreciation actually took place Saturday night. I played with someone else. A dear friend took me to the depths of despair in a long, extremely intense scene. There was pain, so much pain and so many tears shed, and I needed every strike, every hit, every thrust, every cut, every weal and every bruise. My ass is still marked, the welts haven't healed, the bruises are deep enough to last weeks. It feels wonderful! And it showed me that I can move on, that I can experience pain and pleasure without being in service or enslaved, and probably most importantly, I can do all of these things with new people.
Once we went to a gang bang party, mainly because it was the host's birthday party and we were good friends with him. I didn't participate. SJ had a death grip on my wrist the entire evening. I loved it. Never before had he displayed any sense of ownership towards me, no sense of mine, until that night. That night, I knew I was his.
As we drove home that evening, we chatted back and forth, sharing our thoughts, and he told me he couldn't see me ever doing that, ever taking part in a gang-bang. The exception would be if he told me to do it. I nodded, said "Yes, Sir.", but in the back of my mind, I wondered. Was I the type of person who could have sex with so many strangers and not be battered emotionally as well as physically?
I decided to test that question. This weekend, I'm going to a gang-bang party and one of my goals is to see if I can do this. It's a big deal to have sex with anyone else let alone let 20 guys have their way with me. I plan on being blindfolded so I cannot see who is doing what to me, who is fucking me, who is fucking my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Just to become cunt all over and float in that space of being used, over and over again.
It may be too much for me, but I'm willing to give it a try. I am willing myself to do this, once again, to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can have sex again, that I can be with someone besides SJ. It may be rash, but I need to take this next step.
I also have a date Sunday night, to watch sports, eat wings and drink beer in Pluckers. The last time I was in Pluckers was with SJ and he triggered a massive orgasm as we sat at the bar. I don't know if that will happen Sunday, but it will be cool to hang with a friend, a very sexy friend, (who I just discovered is uncut and HUNG!) and get to know one another better.
So I have much to look forward to, much to be hopeful for, and much to be thankful for. I think most importantly, crossing these milestones puts distance between what was and what will be. Each step forward is not just a step away but also a step in the right direction.
Warm thoughts ~ KM Kern
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
I have too much energy. I can't sleep. I may go to Walgreen's here in a bit and grab a NeuroSleep. Those things rock.
I have too much energy and part of it comes from spending the evening with the Austin TNG group at their south munch. It's about 4 blocks from my house at a pretty cool bar. I hung out with friends, caught up with them, consulted on a couple of trivia questions.
One really hot girl, who I adore - both her and her male partner are just sexy as hell and smart and delightful to be around - asked if I would tie her up at the next TNG party. Sure, why not. I tried not to salivate openly. So then it became tying her up so he could beat on her and then it became tying her so we could beat on her. Oh, yeah, just kept getting better and better.
Met a few new people, folks I haven't met during my time 'away' and had some good conversations with them. That's always nice, getting to know someone new and looking for those areas of commonality.
Then, the Super Sexy girl came by with a scarf and I tied her up, attaching her wrists to her neck in a 10 second tie. It was fun, it was hot, it was sexy. I love impromptu scenes and ones which take place in bars and other public spaces are especially hornifying!
Then I had a more serious conversation with someone who has been a dear friend to SJ and I for a number of years. He's one of the most optimistic and least judgmental people I know. I enjoy his company so much and this was a great opportunity for us to connect on some new levels.
Finished the night discussing a fund raising idea I had a few months ago. I look forward to how this all pans out and how it develops. Should be one of the most kick-ass, original ideas for a fundraiser ever! I wouldn't be surprised if this makes this one guy famous. It has such awesome potential.
Came home, responded to a few things on FL, and had a really fascinating conversation with this lit professor that went on for almost an hour. He asked intelligent questions and we ended up having a really fabulous discussion.
Followed that with some great emails with friends, sharing what's been going on and how I'm doing and finding out how they are. Good stuff, important stuff, mundane and tawdry stuff. All good stuff.
So you can see, can't you, why I can't sleep yet. Too much good stuff all came to me in the last 4 hours or so. Yep, I think I'll run to Walgreens and get some NeuroSleep. Got a big day tomorrow - my first Zumba class! Yay!
bounce bounce bounce ~ KM Kern
I have too much energy and part of it comes from spending the evening with the Austin TNG group at their south munch. It's about 4 blocks from my house at a pretty cool bar. I hung out with friends, caught up with them, consulted on a couple of trivia questions.
One really hot girl, who I adore - both her and her male partner are just sexy as hell and smart and delightful to be around - asked if I would tie her up at the next TNG party. Sure, why not. I tried not to salivate openly. So then it became tying her up so he could beat on her and then it became tying her so we could beat on her. Oh, yeah, just kept getting better and better.
Met a few new people, folks I haven't met during my time 'away' and had some good conversations with them. That's always nice, getting to know someone new and looking for those areas of commonality.
Then, the Super Sexy girl came by with a scarf and I tied her up, attaching her wrists to her neck in a 10 second tie. It was fun, it was hot, it was sexy. I love impromptu scenes and ones which take place in bars and other public spaces are especially hornifying!
Then I had a more serious conversation with someone who has been a dear friend to SJ and I for a number of years. He's one of the most optimistic and least judgmental people I know. I enjoy his company so much and this was a great opportunity for us to connect on some new levels.
Finished the night discussing a fund raising idea I had a few months ago. I look forward to how this all pans out and how it develops. Should be one of the most kick-ass, original ideas for a fundraiser ever! I wouldn't be surprised if this makes this one guy famous. It has such awesome potential.
Came home, responded to a few things on FL, and had a really fascinating conversation with this lit professor that went on for almost an hour. He asked intelligent questions and we ended up having a really fabulous discussion.
Followed that with some great emails with friends, sharing what's been going on and how I'm doing and finding out how they are. Good stuff, important stuff, mundane and tawdry stuff. All good stuff.
So you can see, can't you, why I can't sleep yet. Too much good stuff all came to me in the last 4 hours or so. Yep, I think I'll run to Walgreens and get some NeuroSleep. Got a big day tomorrow - my first Zumba class! Yay!
bounce bounce bounce ~ KM Kern
I had a hard time falling asleep last night. The rain and the lightning were worth the lost sleep. The thunder, its constant, baleful moaning, was an aural feast, a tympannic delight, rolling across the contours of the city.
Without the crises of a fight, there is no residual anger to spawn a desire to 'win' the break-up.
Living well may be the best revenge, but there is no reason to seek revenge.
Living well for the sake of myself, simply because doing what is best and right and good for me is the best thing I can do in this time, that is a purpose to which I can ascribe.
As I move forward, and I do believe I am, slowly, surely, gaining confidence and momentum as I do, I begin to realize the best qualities in me and to recognize that those have always been my own strengths, independent of who I served.
When you find someone, as I did with SJ, who draws those qualities from you, brings them to the light, and creates an environment, a bed of fertile soil, which nurtures those qualities into the bloom of success and light, it can become tempting and too easy to then attribute those qualities to him, to fall into a trap of self-doubt where those qualities are only possible through him.
I see and understand the beautiful garden we created together and I also see that the qualities, the seeds if you will, are mine. Perhaps some are cuttings and some are seedlings for many of them are well-germinated. The power and ability and knowledge to plant them anew, to till my own soil and manifest success and light reside within me. Just as they reside in him. Just as the seeds stay with him too. Together we shared and created and what remains in each of us is inherently good. Our time together gave us each new strengths and abilities and knowledge.
That includes the strengths necessary to move forward independently. Independence. It is a difficult concept to embrace, this new shoot in my garden. For weeks, I tried to pluck it out like a weed. It continues to grow. Now I begin to see the beauty and grace of it, to treasure what this newly discovered light will bring to my life. I have not reached the point of rejoicing in it, I've accepted its presence, and I can acknowledge that with it, good will come.
well wishes ~ KM Kern
I find things to fill my time. I remember when I first met SJ, how incredibly busy he seemed to be, Toast Masters, NLP, with music, playing in bands and seeing shows, and then all of the varied community projects he seemed to have.
At the time, I didn't understand it. I believed that anyone who had filled their time with so much stuff must not enjoy or want to be alone, must be doing this simply to have some thing to do. But now, I'm starting to get it.
When we first met, he was in the process of an extensive personal growth cycle, much of which had catalyzed as his last two poly relationships were nearing their close.
It has been difficult to assimilate the notion of moving on, and by looking for new things to explore, I "try on" different activities and interests to find what fits me best. So I'm exploring and learning and soaking up experiences, much as our drought stricken soil soaks up tonight's rain.
This Wednesday holds a two-fold promise of opportunity. I'm attending my first Zumba class, this just happens to be taught by my former personal trainer. Afterwards, we are having dinner together. He recently found me on OKCupid when I wrote a profile, one centered on me and what I want, what I desire. Reconnecting with him is part of the good. (I think I should make a Master list - no pun intended - of the good, all the positive changes which have sprung from this brief and bitter winter's break) The connection is good for many reasons, not the least of which is that CAJ is someone who shares my love of sports. I'm happy to know I can spend time with someone I already know as friend and if something else grows from it, well I welcome that new good as well.
I also recently RSVP'd in the affirmative to attend an NLP class taught by Terrill Fisher. He is a great presenter, an improv junkie, and a truly special friend. The class is on Brain Magic and I didn't have to read the description to know I wanted to be a part of this. Terrill always brings something new to my view, to my map, to my life and I am sure this class will be no different.
Another event I am contemplating at this time, is a Gang-Bang party taking place this weekend. SJ had invited me to TWK for a class and party being taught by a good friend of his, who will also be presenting at ORF this year, and part of me wants to attend. The other parts of me are scratching at the walls of my guts and tapping out an SOS, letting me know that it's too soon to return. Next month, it will be fine, this month - no.
So I think about this gang-bang party. We attended one once and neither of us participated. We watched, we shared our take, our two maps becoming one territory as we allowed our thoughts to seamlessly overlay one another through our words, and throughout the night, he kept his fingers wrapped around my forearm, above the wrist, clutching me and claiming me with this silent act. I had never experienced anything like this from him. This protective and possessive display. When I queried a friend of his on the behavior, he said he had never seen SJ act the way he did with me with anyone he had ever dated. That gave me a warm, gushy feeling then and it still does.
Part of me recognizes that this is an opportunity to experience sexual gratification without any emotional entanglements, without worry of so many things, and just be in my body and let it be used until I can't think. Fucked to stupidity, like fairer than she, FTS. The parts of me that are terrified at the thought of having to go through some awkward first-time experience with fumbling fingers and insecurity relish the idea that I can just enjoy the sexual experiences and leave all the baggage behind.
Perhaps that is exactly the break I need, to break this pattern, with no concern of who initiates what and whether I'll be in trouble for doing something wrong and just knowing that I am free to enjoy this without worrying about the other person(s) pleasure.
It has been far too long since I was fucked to stupidity and so sore I couldn't walk the day after sex. Perhaps this will break that pattern too. I need to remember to seek the good and this may well be my next first, slightly terrifying step on the journey.
On my map, either choice is scary. I'm scared to do this, to be a fuck toy for a group of men I don't know, and I'm scared to put off the inevitable time when I will fuck someone other than SJ. The primary reason I want to go forward, experience this now and in this way, is to destroy that fear, that fear of being with someone else. It is better to vanquish this now than let it fester and sicken me. In this case, the path to healing lies in group sex. Wouldn't it be great if doctors could prescribe that instead of antibiotics! "Take two cocks and call me in the morning." Or three or four or eight or ten...
This isn't just about the physical aspects of sex though, this is also about building my self-esteem. recognizing that the lens through which SJ saw me, and therefore how I saw myself, is not how others see me.
And now, I can see that I am beautiful. And now, I can see that I am sexy. And now, I can see that I am desirable. And now, I can see that I'm lovely and vivacious and bubbly and adorable and resplendent with sexual energy. I am a light and people are attracted to me, to my light, not because I'm with some person in particular, but because I am what draws them.
I'm ready to let my light shine.
Beaming ~ KM Kern
At the time, I didn't understand it. I believed that anyone who had filled their time with so much stuff must not enjoy or want to be alone, must be doing this simply to have some thing to do. But now, I'm starting to get it.
When we first met, he was in the process of an extensive personal growth cycle, much of which had catalyzed as his last two poly relationships were nearing their close.
It has been difficult to assimilate the notion of moving on, and by looking for new things to explore, I "try on" different activities and interests to find what fits me best. So I'm exploring and learning and soaking up experiences, much as our drought stricken soil soaks up tonight's rain.
This Wednesday holds a two-fold promise of opportunity. I'm attending my first Zumba class, this just happens to be taught by my former personal trainer. Afterwards, we are having dinner together. He recently found me on OKCupid when I wrote a profile, one centered on me and what I want, what I desire. Reconnecting with him is part of the good. (I think I should make a Master list - no pun intended - of the good, all the positive changes which have sprung from this brief and bitter winter's break) The connection is good for many reasons, not the least of which is that CAJ is someone who shares my love of sports. I'm happy to know I can spend time with someone I already know as friend and if something else grows from it, well I welcome that new good as well.
I also recently RSVP'd in the affirmative to attend an NLP class taught by Terrill Fisher. He is a great presenter, an improv junkie, and a truly special friend. The class is on Brain Magic and I didn't have to read the description to know I wanted to be a part of this. Terrill always brings something new to my view, to my map, to my life and I am sure this class will be no different.
Another event I am contemplating at this time, is a Gang-Bang party taking place this weekend. SJ had invited me to TWK for a class and party being taught by a good friend of his, who will also be presenting at ORF this year, and part of me wants to attend. The other parts of me are scratching at the walls of my guts and tapping out an SOS, letting me know that it's too soon to return. Next month, it will be fine, this month - no.
So I think about this gang-bang party. We attended one once and neither of us participated. We watched, we shared our take, our two maps becoming one territory as we allowed our thoughts to seamlessly overlay one another through our words, and throughout the night, he kept his fingers wrapped around my forearm, above the wrist, clutching me and claiming me with this silent act. I had never experienced anything like this from him. This protective and possessive display. When I queried a friend of his on the behavior, he said he had never seen SJ act the way he did with me with anyone he had ever dated. That gave me a warm, gushy feeling then and it still does.
Part of me recognizes that this is an opportunity to experience sexual gratification without any emotional entanglements, without worry of so many things, and just be in my body and let it be used until I can't think. Fucked to stupidity, like fairer than she, FTS. The parts of me that are terrified at the thought of having to go through some awkward first-time experience with fumbling fingers and insecurity relish the idea that I can just enjoy the sexual experiences and leave all the baggage behind.
Perhaps that is exactly the break I need, to break this pattern, with no concern of who initiates what and whether I'll be in trouble for doing something wrong and just knowing that I am free to enjoy this without worrying about the other person(s) pleasure.
It has been far too long since I was fucked to stupidity and so sore I couldn't walk the day after sex. Perhaps this will break that pattern too. I need to remember to seek the good and this may well be my next first, slightly terrifying step on the journey.
On my map, either choice is scary. I'm scared to do this, to be a fuck toy for a group of men I don't know, and I'm scared to put off the inevitable time when I will fuck someone other than SJ. The primary reason I want to go forward, experience this now and in this way, is to destroy that fear, that fear of being with someone else. It is better to vanquish this now than let it fester and sicken me. In this case, the path to healing lies in group sex. Wouldn't it be great if doctors could prescribe that instead of antibiotics! "Take two cocks and call me in the morning." Or three or four or eight or ten...
This isn't just about the physical aspects of sex though, this is also about building my self-esteem. recognizing that the lens through which SJ saw me, and therefore how I saw myself, is not how others see me.
And now, I can see that I am beautiful. And now, I can see that I am sexy. And now, I can see that I am desirable. And now, I can see that I'm lovely and vivacious and bubbly and adorable and resplendent with sexual energy. I am a light and people are attracted to me, to my light, not because I'm with some person in particular, but because I am what draws them.
I'm ready to let my light shine.
Beaming ~ KM Kern
Saturday, March 17, 2012
My roses arrived. I am thrilled. There are buds and fresh red shoots on each of them. Today will be spent in making the final preparations to the bed and then planting them. I look forward to the day, and it will be here sooner rather than later, when I can open the windows in my dining room and see vines shooting up towards the sky, when I can smell the sweet, heady fragrance, when I can listen to the wind teach the leaves to whisper.
One of the things I have always appreciated about these roses, the antique varieties, the climbers and floribundas, was that they really aren't suitable for cutting. They weren't meant to be cut and placed in a vase. The blooms are at their best when on the vine.
To me, seeing a rose bush covered in blossoms in varying states, from nascence to decay, is a metaphor for life. From the newest buds with the deepest color to the older ones with the deepest fragrance. Like vigor and knowledge in my own life.
There is beauty in this juxtaposition. Life and death circling one another as the tendrils of the vine intermingle and intertwine.
~ KM Kern
One of the things I have always appreciated about these roses, the antique varieties, the climbers and floribundas, was that they really aren't suitable for cutting. They weren't meant to be cut and placed in a vase. The blooms are at their best when on the vine.
To me, seeing a rose bush covered in blossoms in varying states, from nascence to decay, is a metaphor for life. From the newest buds with the deepest color to the older ones with the deepest fragrance. Like vigor and knowledge in my own life.
There is beauty in this juxtaposition. Life and death circling one another as the tendrils of the vine intermingle and intertwine.
~ KM Kern
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
So he called tonight, out of the blue, said he just wanted to catch up. We talked about ORF, and upcoming events, and SXSW and his plans for the weekend. It was good to hear his voice, but it was also difficult.
I managed to maintain some boundaries and not jump into my pattern of volunteering to go help clean TWK or anything like that. So that was good.
It was difficult though. Difficult to hear his voice and not sink back into that magical place of bliss, not check out hypnotically and just let that voice wash over me once again, that voice, that incredible voice.
A week, hell maybe the day before we broke up, maybe that morning, I'm not sure anymore, we had this kind of cute conversation about whether I would trade his voice or his body for someone else. Most of the options I chose his voice. When we got to Elvis, it was more of a toss up. That's about as close to the perfection of SJ's voice as they come.
I did make one error when we spoke. As a way to carry the conversation forward, I asked him about his weekend, what he did. He told me he went to Galveston. I know it wasn't to visit the coast as he is fairly anti-water. He said it was to "break his pattern". Which I can understand, after all, Sunday was a holy day for us, the day we spent together, immersed in one another. As much as possible, we tried to hold that without allowing the outside world to enter. Oftentimes, it did, and sometimes, that was okay. Like ROPE Sundays and other events. We knew what we had to do and took the time in our rituals to connect.
I say it was an error because I know he went there to be with someone else. It's none of my business what he did or with whom and intellectually I know that. Emotionally it is a bitter pill to swallow. Emotionally it hurts to know that so soon after our end he has a new beginning.
And yet, it is okay too. I will have new beginnings eventually and some may come naturally and some may feel forced and some may be old friends with new aspects added. I don't know what they might be, but my unconscious mind will sort that out when the time is right.
It's just not right for me yet.
LA posted this tonight, "The only thing sweeter than surrendering to hypnotic control is when the "holy shit" awesome melts into passive unthinking bliss."
That is something I may never know again. At this point, I can't imagine ever being hypnotized again. And it's my favorite kink, one of my favorite things in the whole world and right now it seems like an absolute impossibility. As if I may never be able to let go and let someone into my mind to mold and create new things in my unconscious the way he did. It's things like this, these realizations, that make me weep for wont of him, as I weep now.
These last two days have been full of weeping. Tonight was my first taste of any anger and there was no need for it.
I know I will be happy when he finds someone better suited to him than I was, when he finds the missing piece of himself and embraces it without fear or reservation, when he opens up to another and becomes complete, things he could not do with me. I truly do want happiness for him.
Now, I also want happiness and fulfillment and joy and contentment and commitment and harmony for myself. Not just immersing myself in another in an attempt to become what they want, but being my own person, self-realized and self-actualized, with a purpose and passion of my own choosing.
Perhaps that means I won't ever be hypnotized again, perhaps at this point I simply can't be. That would be my unconscious mind setting its own boundaries. It certainly is not something I will attempt to seek.
Tonight's change was creating a profile for OKCupid, a bit reactionary maybe, but it was good to talk about me and what I want. That's not something I've ever been particularly comfortable doing. I like telling stories and I love being the center of attention as an entertainer, but even that feels like it isn't about me, but about the enjoyment of the audience.
I survived the call and I'm sure there will be many more things that feel like survival before they feel ok and before they feel like thriving. One step at a time.
"Galveston, oh Galveston" ~ KM Kern
I managed to maintain some boundaries and not jump into my pattern of volunteering to go help clean TWK or anything like that. So that was good.
It was difficult though. Difficult to hear his voice and not sink back into that magical place of bliss, not check out hypnotically and just let that voice wash over me once again, that voice, that incredible voice.
A week, hell maybe the day before we broke up, maybe that morning, I'm not sure anymore, we had this kind of cute conversation about whether I would trade his voice or his body for someone else. Most of the options I chose his voice. When we got to Elvis, it was more of a toss up. That's about as close to the perfection of SJ's voice as they come.
I did make one error when we spoke. As a way to carry the conversation forward, I asked him about his weekend, what he did. He told me he went to Galveston. I know it wasn't to visit the coast as he is fairly anti-water. He said it was to "break his pattern". Which I can understand, after all, Sunday was a holy day for us, the day we spent together, immersed in one another. As much as possible, we tried to hold that without allowing the outside world to enter. Oftentimes, it did, and sometimes, that was okay. Like ROPE Sundays and other events. We knew what we had to do and took the time in our rituals to connect.
I say it was an error because I know he went there to be with someone else. It's none of my business what he did or with whom and intellectually I know that. Emotionally it is a bitter pill to swallow. Emotionally it hurts to know that so soon after our end he has a new beginning.
And yet, it is okay too. I will have new beginnings eventually and some may come naturally and some may feel forced and some may be old friends with new aspects added. I don't know what they might be, but my unconscious mind will sort that out when the time is right.
It's just not right for me yet.
LA posted this tonight, "The only thing sweeter than surrendering to hypnotic control is when the "holy shit" awesome melts into passive unthinking bliss."
That is something I may never know again. At this point, I can't imagine ever being hypnotized again. And it's my favorite kink, one of my favorite things in the whole world and right now it seems like an absolute impossibility. As if I may never be able to let go and let someone into my mind to mold and create new things in my unconscious the way he did. It's things like this, these realizations, that make me weep for wont of him, as I weep now.
These last two days have been full of weeping. Tonight was my first taste of any anger and there was no need for it.
I know I will be happy when he finds someone better suited to him than I was, when he finds the missing piece of himself and embraces it without fear or reservation, when he opens up to another and becomes complete, things he could not do with me. I truly do want happiness for him.
Now, I also want happiness and fulfillment and joy and contentment and commitment and harmony for myself. Not just immersing myself in another in an attempt to become what they want, but being my own person, self-realized and self-actualized, with a purpose and passion of my own choosing.
Perhaps that means I won't ever be hypnotized again, perhaps at this point I simply can't be. That would be my unconscious mind setting its own boundaries. It certainly is not something I will attempt to seek.
Tonight's change was creating a profile for OKCupid, a bit reactionary maybe, but it was good to talk about me and what I want. That's not something I've ever been particularly comfortable doing. I like telling stories and I love being the center of attention as an entertainer, but even that feels like it isn't about me, but about the enjoyment of the audience.
I survived the call and I'm sure there will be many more things that feel like survival before they feel ok and before they feel like thriving. One step at a time.
"Galveston, oh Galveston" ~ KM Kern
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
It's been a great and trying week.
Monday was work, work and more work. Then I went by TWK to retrieve some items SJ donated to my son. Then home for a late dinner and watching TV before going to bed.
Tuesday was awesome - it was my 46th birthday! I started the day by dying my hair (again) and then got a mani and pedi at Pro Nails in my neighborhood. Then dashed off to meet a dear friend for luncheon. I arrived a few minutes early and took that few minutes to shop, just to wander the aisles, of Burlington. Not one of my usual haunts though I always seem to find some little thing I can use.
I actually bought my first piece of commercially produced wall art in 20 years. My house is filled with original works of art - paintings, sculpture, pottery, mirrors, photographs - and they all elicit some particular emotion from me, from my heart and soul. Each has its special story.
This piece has no story. There is almost nothing to it. Bright red peonies on a mustard yellow background. I wasn't looking for a piece to "replace" the painting I had done with such a surge of energy the morning after I met him. Just like the painting, the discovery of this piece just happened. It was there and for now, it is here. I don't know if it will remain long, or if it matters. What matters is that I'm happy with it hanging on the wall, complimenting the three African sculptures which grace the wall. I am happy with it.
This shopping excursion took maybe 10 minutes and then I walked through the parking lot, tucked my purchase away in the car and met my friend for lunch. We had Indian food. It's long been one of my favorites, one of my favorite restaurants, a place I used to frequent, and it has been far too long since I ate there. This was very special. I ate well. I enjoyed each bite and savored the conversation.
At one point, I referenced an old movie, one based on an Eugene O'Neill play, called Strange Interlude. The movie was made in the mid thirties and my delightful companion knew it, she knew the movie and the play. I am simply delighted to spend time with her because the conversation is always so engaging and her interests are so vast and varied that conversing on almost any topic is possible. She is a wonder and a joy.
After a lengthy luncheon and a wonderful conversation, we parted ways and I returned home to get ready for Karaoke. I love karaoke, love to sing and delight in the sharing of touchstone moments in the songs we recall fondly. I love that sense of shared cultural intelligence, like threads woven into our communal fabric.
We went to the High Ball on South Lamar. It's a bowling alley, a restaurant, a night club and has private karaoke rooms upstairs. I chose the psychedelic room. Very 60's, very upbeat and felt it was the perfect setting for this little party. Friends arrived, with the lovely LA acting as host, and before too long, I was singing. I sang most of the night, rarely relinquishing the mike for more than a brief interlude while someone else led the festivities.
I had come prepared, prepared with a list of songs I wanted to sing. This was both a tribute concert and a comeback in one set list.
I started off with "Lonely Teardrops" and "Tracks of my Tears" and moved to "I know I'll never love this way again", which brought the only bout of crying, wracked by sobs, unable to sing moment of the night. Strange, I had heard it in my mind for the ten days prior, though it has never held any particular meaning for me. Here I was, imbuing this song with the weight of my loss. This crushing loss which even now brings tears over the brim and spilling down my cheeks. (I've taken to carrying handkerchiefs with me for the tears, not bandannas, handkerchiefs)
With hugs from dear friends, I marshaled on. LA sang some Styx which delighted the crowd. She had also given thought to what she would sing and brought with her the strength she wanted to impart on me. It was magical.
I ran through a dozen more songs as more friends arrived. For the last time, I sang "I will follow him", the song I sang for him whenever we were at karaoke, and often times at his home it would be my companion as I joyfully served. I immediately followed that with "You don't own me..." but since it wasn't on karaoke, I sang it a capella. During the course of the evening, I chose to sing a few songs we couldn't find this way.
On my list was "Love Me" by Elvis. It wasn't available so I sang "She's not you" instead, then launched into "Love me" on my own. "Treat me like a fool, treat me mean and cruel, but love me. I'm begging on my knees, darling won't you please, please love me." And I wished with all my heart that he would walk through the door, take me in his arms and take me back into his heart. But some birthday wishes aren't meant to come true.
It was time for "Me & Bobby McGee" and I knew I had to sing it soon simply because I might lose my voice if I waited to exhale this powerhouse from my spirit. I sing this all the time. It is my traveling song, driving the streets of Austin, Janis rides shotgun and we sing. We sing at the top of our lungs and pour out our hearts onto the bitter pavement. It is a spiritual cleansing to sing this song, to embrace it with every molecule and live it in that moment. "I would trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday."
Friends were snacking, laughing, singing along, jumping whenever the flash from LA's camera emblazoned the room with light. They sang and as the afternoon turned to evening, we went into survivor mode. We sang female empowerment songs from "I am woman, hear me roar" to "You're so vain" to "Survivor" and finished the night as it should be, all of us on our feet, dancing and singing with no thought for a microphone, just raucously devouring "I will survive" before the lights went out.
It was a magical night. It was the tincture I needed to take. I let out a host of emotions which had been leaking out through a pinhole in a bottle, but on this night the bottle shattered and I let it all hang out. We all did. We hugged, we cried, we sang. We celebrated both what was and whatever is to come.
True friends will support you and commiserate without the need to disparage in any way that which has come before. These true friends did just that. They held me, the life preservers of my loss and my sorrow as well as my hopes and dreams, and allowed me to swim in this sea of emotion, buoyed by their strength, their presence, their friendship. For this and so much more, I am truly grateful. And I'm 46!
Monday was work, work and more work. Then I went by TWK to retrieve some items SJ donated to my son. Then home for a late dinner and watching TV before going to bed.
Tuesday was awesome - it was my 46th birthday! I started the day by dying my hair (again) and then got a mani and pedi at Pro Nails in my neighborhood. Then dashed off to meet a dear friend for luncheon. I arrived a few minutes early and took that few minutes to shop, just to wander the aisles, of Burlington. Not one of my usual haunts though I always seem to find some little thing I can use.
I actually bought my first piece of commercially produced wall art in 20 years. My house is filled with original works of art - paintings, sculpture, pottery, mirrors, photographs - and they all elicit some particular emotion from me, from my heart and soul. Each has its special story.
This piece has no story. There is almost nothing to it. Bright red peonies on a mustard yellow background. I wasn't looking for a piece to "replace" the painting I had done with such a surge of energy the morning after I met him. Just like the painting, the discovery of this piece just happened. It was there and for now, it is here. I don't know if it will remain long, or if it matters. What matters is that I'm happy with it hanging on the wall, complimenting the three African sculptures which grace the wall. I am happy with it.
This shopping excursion took maybe 10 minutes and then I walked through the parking lot, tucked my purchase away in the car and met my friend for lunch. We had Indian food. It's long been one of my favorites, one of my favorite restaurants, a place I used to frequent, and it has been far too long since I ate there. This was very special. I ate well. I enjoyed each bite and savored the conversation.
At one point, I referenced an old movie, one based on an Eugene O'Neill play, called Strange Interlude. The movie was made in the mid thirties and my delightful companion knew it, she knew the movie and the play. I am simply delighted to spend time with her because the conversation is always so engaging and her interests are so vast and varied that conversing on almost any topic is possible. She is a wonder and a joy.
After a lengthy luncheon and a wonderful conversation, we parted ways and I returned home to get ready for Karaoke. I love karaoke, love to sing and delight in the sharing of touchstone moments in the songs we recall fondly. I love that sense of shared cultural intelligence, like threads woven into our communal fabric.
We went to the High Ball on South Lamar. It's a bowling alley, a restaurant, a night club and has private karaoke rooms upstairs. I chose the psychedelic room. Very 60's, very upbeat and felt it was the perfect setting for this little party. Friends arrived, with the lovely LA acting as host, and before too long, I was singing. I sang most of the night, rarely relinquishing the mike for more than a brief interlude while someone else led the festivities.
I had come prepared, prepared with a list of songs I wanted to sing. This was both a tribute concert and a comeback in one set list.
I started off with "Lonely Teardrops" and "Tracks of my Tears" and moved to "I know I'll never love this way again", which brought the only bout of crying, wracked by sobs, unable to sing moment of the night. Strange, I had heard it in my mind for the ten days prior, though it has never held any particular meaning for me. Here I was, imbuing this song with the weight of my loss. This crushing loss which even now brings tears over the brim and spilling down my cheeks. (I've taken to carrying handkerchiefs with me for the tears, not bandannas, handkerchiefs)
With hugs from dear friends, I marshaled on. LA sang some Styx which delighted the crowd. She had also given thought to what she would sing and brought with her the strength she wanted to impart on me. It was magical.
I ran through a dozen more songs as more friends arrived. For the last time, I sang "I will follow him", the song I sang for him whenever we were at karaoke, and often times at his home it would be my companion as I joyfully served. I immediately followed that with "You don't own me..." but since it wasn't on karaoke, I sang it a capella. During the course of the evening, I chose to sing a few songs we couldn't find this way.
On my list was "Love Me" by Elvis. It wasn't available so I sang "She's not you" instead, then launched into "Love me" on my own. "Treat me like a fool, treat me mean and cruel, but love me. I'm begging on my knees, darling won't you please, please love me." And I wished with all my heart that he would walk through the door, take me in his arms and take me back into his heart. But some birthday wishes aren't meant to come true.
It was time for "Me & Bobby McGee" and I knew I had to sing it soon simply because I might lose my voice if I waited to exhale this powerhouse from my spirit. I sing this all the time. It is my traveling song, driving the streets of Austin, Janis rides shotgun and we sing. We sing at the top of our lungs and pour out our hearts onto the bitter pavement. It is a spiritual cleansing to sing this song, to embrace it with every molecule and live it in that moment. "I would trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday."
Friends were snacking, laughing, singing along, jumping whenever the flash from LA's camera emblazoned the room with light. They sang and as the afternoon turned to evening, we went into survivor mode. We sang female empowerment songs from "I am woman, hear me roar" to "You're so vain" to "Survivor" and finished the night as it should be, all of us on our feet, dancing and singing with no thought for a microphone, just raucously devouring "I will survive" before the lights went out.
It was a magical night. It was the tincture I needed to take. I let out a host of emotions which had been leaking out through a pinhole in a bottle, but on this night the bottle shattered and I let it all hang out. We all did. We hugged, we cried, we sang. We celebrated both what was and whatever is to come.
True friends will support you and commiserate without the need to disparage in any way that which has come before. These true friends did just that. They held me, the life preservers of my loss and my sorrow as well as my hopes and dreams, and allowed me to swim in this sea of emotion, buoyed by their strength, their presence, their friendship. For this and so much more, I am truly grateful. And I'm 46!
Motivation comes from many sources. Last night, I received an unexpected and most welcome motivation in the form of a new nickname. I am the "Nuclear Bomb of Awesome."
My best girlfriend, LA, anointed me thus, and I love it.
This past week has seen a range of emotions. I've experienced incredible highs and the depths of melancholy and depression. Regret reared its ugly head and pain was present more often than I care to admit. Loneliness and longing ebbed in like a fog creeping into my conscious. But there was happiness and joy and there was movement forward and there was and is a sense of direction. (Does anyone else hear "The Race is On"?)
There has also been a sense of ownership. Of me owning me. This is new, almost forbidden, an uncharted territory waiting to be explored. It is scary and thrilling and daunting. Yet it is also empowering, beautiful, inspiring. It is all of these at the same time. I hold all of these in my hands and know that it is possible to experience all of these emotions, and a host of others, within me, within my grasp, and look towards my future with less hesitation and more integration.
I am becoming me.
For so long all, each and every part, of my becoming was for him. It was both from and for him. And now, that motivation is gone, it know longer exists. I've been through a spate of erroneous assumptions, things like, "if I just accomplish X which he wanted - then he will want me back", but the reality is that we had our time and whatever is left undone for HIM, will remain undone for him, for that time that reality is ended.
What I am finding interesting though, is the knowledge that some of what is unaccomplished are things I actually want for myself. So then I can turn off the whispered recriminations and wholesale disposal and remember that what I want matters. What I want matters. What I believe matters. What I desire matters. What I need matters.
This is my journey and I choose the path based on my own beliefs, based on my own needs, and based on this, these things, I can chart my own course and seek out that which enlightens me.
My best girlfriend, LA, anointed me thus, and I love it.
This past week has seen a range of emotions. I've experienced incredible highs and the depths of melancholy and depression. Regret reared its ugly head and pain was present more often than I care to admit. Loneliness and longing ebbed in like a fog creeping into my conscious. But there was happiness and joy and there was movement forward and there was and is a sense of direction. (Does anyone else hear "The Race is On"?)
There has also been a sense of ownership. Of me owning me. This is new, almost forbidden, an uncharted territory waiting to be explored. It is scary and thrilling and daunting. Yet it is also empowering, beautiful, inspiring. It is all of these at the same time. I hold all of these in my hands and know that it is possible to experience all of these emotions, and a host of others, within me, within my grasp, and look towards my future with less hesitation and more integration.
I am becoming me.
For so long all, each and every part, of my becoming was for him. It was both from and for him. And now, that motivation is gone, it know longer exists. I've been through a spate of erroneous assumptions, things like, "if I just accomplish X which he wanted - then he will want me back", but the reality is that we had our time and whatever is left undone for HIM, will remain undone for him, for that time that reality is ended.
What I am finding interesting though, is the knowledge that some of what is unaccomplished are things I actually want for myself. So then I can turn off the whispered recriminations and wholesale disposal and remember that what I want matters. What I want matters. What I believe matters. What I desire matters. What I need matters.
This is my journey and I choose the path based on my own beliefs, based on my own needs, and based on this, these things, I can chart my own course and seek out that which enlightens me.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Today has been a mixed bag. I was able to get a few things done, but have also spent too much time on the couch. I think this vacillation is just one aspect of accepting the changes which are occurring. I have enough energy for some things and then it wanes and I am left bereft again.
It is so easy sometimes to quiet my mind and get things done and at other times, my mind races like a film being rewound and I see so clearly where I should have chosen the blue pill instead of the red pill. Would that I could be reinserted and wipe this painful two weeks away.
But that isn't reality and the unfortunate reality is that we are no longer together. WE are no longer. It is just SJ and it is just me. Just him. Just me.
We no longer will share that infinite connection,a connection which bound us so strongly that I knew when he was sleeping, I knew when he was awake. I was Santa Claus in pigtails. Yes, I knew when he had been bad or good, or at least when he held that perception of himself, his day, his thoughts, his words, his deeds. Across the 20 miles which separate us, across the span of time, I could feel him and his moods and be insanely happy for him or overwhelmed with concern.
And then there came a time when I was less attuned, when I was less intentional in my service, when the cares and concerns from my own life took precedence over the needs, wants and desires of the one I served. And that time lasted for far too long a period.
While SJ says this was not the cause or primal cause or only cause of our demise, I am having trouble letting go of that part of the past, that part that fills me with the most gut-wrenching regret.
But I try, each day, to let it go. I try with each breath to renew my soul and restore some of that faith in myself. I know I will need it, strength, faith, belief, in order to persevere. In between times of energy, I rest and try to divert my immediate thoughts into the pages of a good book or film. Sometimes it works as it did last night with LA. Today my success in that arena has been spotty.
I will try to rest. I will rest, continuing to look for other avenues to fortify my will and strengthen my resolve. Good friends and good conversation helps too.
breathing in and out ~ KM Kern
It is so easy sometimes to quiet my mind and get things done and at other times, my mind races like a film being rewound and I see so clearly where I should have chosen the blue pill instead of the red pill. Would that I could be reinserted and wipe this painful two weeks away.
But that isn't reality and the unfortunate reality is that we are no longer together. WE are no longer. It is just SJ and it is just me. Just him. Just me.
We no longer will share that infinite connection,a connection which bound us so strongly that I knew when he was sleeping, I knew when he was awake. I was Santa Claus in pigtails. Yes, I knew when he had been bad or good, or at least when he held that perception of himself, his day, his thoughts, his words, his deeds. Across the 20 miles which separate us, across the span of time, I could feel him and his moods and be insanely happy for him or overwhelmed with concern.
And then there came a time when I was less attuned, when I was less intentional in my service, when the cares and concerns from my own life took precedence over the needs, wants and desires of the one I served. And that time lasted for far too long a period.
While SJ says this was not the cause or primal cause or only cause of our demise, I am having trouble letting go of that part of the past, that part that fills me with the most gut-wrenching regret.
But I try, each day, to let it go. I try with each breath to renew my soul and restore some of that faith in myself. I know I will need it, strength, faith, belief, in order to persevere. In between times of energy, I rest and try to divert my immediate thoughts into the pages of a good book or film. Sometimes it works as it did last night with LA. Today my success in that arena has been spotty.
I will try to rest. I will rest, continuing to look for other avenues to fortify my will and strengthen my resolve. Good friends and good conversation helps too.
breathing in and out ~ KM Kern
Finding the good. One 'good' which immediately jumps out at me about this ending is that I will have more time to spend with my girlfriend, LA. She is intelligent and outspoken and beautiful. I love her mind, I love her curiosity, her wit and her breasts. She has the most beautiful breasts.
Tonight, she invited me to her home to share a movie with me. Some of you might have seen it as it was nominated for an Academy Award this year. It is the latest offering from Woody Allen, a delightful film called "Midnight in Paris".
It was meant to be, this movie and me, as so much of it is the unfulfilled dreams of my childhood. I too, want to go to Paris to live, to write, to paint, to create - to be surrounded by beauty on a scale unimaginable and that says a lot from one with such an astounding imagination.
A Parisian night in the rain, listening to Cole Porter, discussing art for arts sake and falling in love. Just the thought of it sends my imagination flying.
daydreaming at night ~ KM Kern
Tonight, she invited me to her home to share a movie with me. Some of you might have seen it as it was nominated for an Academy Award this year. It is the latest offering from Woody Allen, a delightful film called "Midnight in Paris".
It was meant to be, this movie and me, as so much of it is the unfulfilled dreams of my childhood. I too, want to go to Paris to live, to write, to paint, to create - to be surrounded by beauty on a scale unimaginable and that says a lot from one with such an astounding imagination.
A Parisian night in the rain, listening to Cole Porter, discussing art for arts sake and falling in love. Just the thought of it sends my imagination flying.
daydreaming at night ~ KM Kern
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Tonight's change was very uplifting. Difficult but uplifting. I took every piece of clothing SJ ever gave me as well as the pieces I had purchased to wear for him and put them away. They are all stored neatly in a box which will both preserve them and remove them from my day to day options.
No more girly dresses, no more cute t-shirts, no more footie pajamas, no more gothic lolita. I doubt I will ever be 6 again.
Being 6, allowing the little girl inside of me to 'come out and play', was very enlightening for me, very entertaining for him, but for now she must be put away, along with her dresses, her coloring books, and her little bows and ribbons.
I also took down and tucked away two very important paintings in my home. The first was the one I painted immediately, compulsively, upon waking after the first night I met SJ. That was a magical night. One I will never forget. The painting itself is a chaotic dream of swirling miasma. I love it, have loved it, and have enjoyed looking upon it and remembering that night. I wanted nothing more than to sit with him all evening but didn't want to take up his time. After all, he was the host and this was his birthday party. Every 15 minutes or so, I would walk through the party looking for him, chancing upon him, and sit and converse for a few moments. This was after that magical introduction underneath the light in the living room. This was after that first serendipitous scene under the bar in the rope room. This was bathing in the aftermath of what was a momentous first meeting.
The second painting was the first gift SJ ever gave me. It was a spontaneous gift. We were walking through Antique Marketplace, which, in its original incarnation, I was once upon a time the manager. We looked at boots and furniture and dinner ware and all sorts of things. As SJ pulled off a pair of boots, he gazed across the way and asked "Would you like that?" I glanced at a wall of hangings, portraits, paintings and photographs and knew immediately which one had caught his eye.
Black framed on a red background, a 40's style pin-up, demonic siren sits. Below her the words are emblazoned, "Good Girl".
I turned back to him, nodding my head over and over again, "Yes, Sir, please." I looked up at him through my 6 year old eyes, awed at the idea that he might buy me this painting, this gift. For the 2 1/2 years since I've received it, it has hung over my bed and has been a part of my nightly ritual to gaze upon her and appreciate her. For I do appreciate all that he has given me, truly, and now it is time for her and so many other things to be tucked away, to be preserved, so that in the future, I may retrieve them and gaze upon them once again.
I have retained the use of many things he has given me; various kitchen implements, a flat-screen TV, and a pair of earrings. The kitchen items, pots, bowls, a mixer and so on, I will enjoy and use them as they were intended to be used. The TV, well, quite frankly my son would kill me in my sleep if I put it away. I do enjoy it too. It's quite lovely.
The earrings, well, they are special to me and I've decided that I'd like to continue wearing them for a long while. To keep them with me, these will be my immediate touchstone to SJ. They are light green and lovely and he purchased them for me at the Hope Farmer's Market They are a reminder of so many different pieces of our life, so simple and yet imbued with so much meaning.
For all I am and will ever be, I thank you for your contributions to my consciousness.
Love ~ KM Kern
No more girly dresses, no more cute t-shirts, no more footie pajamas, no more gothic lolita. I doubt I will ever be 6 again.
Being 6, allowing the little girl inside of me to 'come out and play', was very enlightening for me, very entertaining for him, but for now she must be put away, along with her dresses, her coloring books, and her little bows and ribbons.
I also took down and tucked away two very important paintings in my home. The first was the one I painted immediately, compulsively, upon waking after the first night I met SJ. That was a magical night. One I will never forget. The painting itself is a chaotic dream of swirling miasma. I love it, have loved it, and have enjoyed looking upon it and remembering that night. I wanted nothing more than to sit with him all evening but didn't want to take up his time. After all, he was the host and this was his birthday party. Every 15 minutes or so, I would walk through the party looking for him, chancing upon him, and sit and converse for a few moments. This was after that magical introduction underneath the light in the living room. This was after that first serendipitous scene under the bar in the rope room. This was bathing in the aftermath of what was a momentous first meeting.
The second painting was the first gift SJ ever gave me. It was a spontaneous gift. We were walking through Antique Marketplace, which, in its original incarnation, I was once upon a time the manager. We looked at boots and furniture and dinner ware and all sorts of things. As SJ pulled off a pair of boots, he gazed across the way and asked "Would you like that?" I glanced at a wall of hangings, portraits, paintings and photographs and knew immediately which one had caught his eye.
Black framed on a red background, a 40's style pin-up, demonic siren sits. Below her the words are emblazoned, "Good Girl".
I turned back to him, nodding my head over and over again, "Yes, Sir, please." I looked up at him through my 6 year old eyes, awed at the idea that he might buy me this painting, this gift. For the 2 1/2 years since I've received it, it has hung over my bed and has been a part of my nightly ritual to gaze upon her and appreciate her. For I do appreciate all that he has given me, truly, and now it is time for her and so many other things to be tucked away, to be preserved, so that in the future, I may retrieve them and gaze upon them once again.
I have retained the use of many things he has given me; various kitchen implements, a flat-screen TV, and a pair of earrings. The kitchen items, pots, bowls, a mixer and so on, I will enjoy and use them as they were intended to be used. The TV, well, quite frankly my son would kill me in my sleep if I put it away. I do enjoy it too. It's quite lovely.
The earrings, well, they are special to me and I've decided that I'd like to continue wearing them for a long while. To keep them with me, these will be my immediate touchstone to SJ. They are light green and lovely and he purchased them for me at the Hope Farmer's Market They are a reminder of so many different pieces of our life, so simple and yet imbued with so much meaning.
For all I am and will ever be, I thank you for your contributions to my consciousness.
Love ~ KM Kern
One of the biggest and most far reaching changes I am experiencing is the realization that I must make my own choices. This is big because I don't have any idea what I actually like or prefer at this time. Everything I am has been created, shaped and formed to become what he wants me to be, what he wanted me to be.
I can remember before SJ, that I was fairly neutral on chocolate - milk, dark, white - they each had their place and time and I don't remember having a stated or distinct preference for one over the other. Then, our first Christmas together, someone gave me a bar of dark chocolate and SJ said "That's good. She loves dark chocolate." I can remember an immediate internal shift and thought "I love dark chocolate!"
Call it brainwashing or training or anything else. It doesn't matter. All that mattered for me for the past 4 1/2 years is that if he said it, then it was. His words spoke directly to my unconscious mind and created a world in which my every thought, conscious or unconscious, was for the purpose of aligning my will with his. And so it was.
I have no idea if I like a bitter salad dressing, less oil and more vinegar. I have no idea if I like tomatoes, alone they still taste like raspberries to me.
I know I enjoyed music before SJ, I know I listened to a lot of the same music before we met as we did when we were together, and yet, am I listening with the same ear? Is it my taste or his taste?
For years, I have stated that if a girl can do anything but kneel she should. If you can walk away, you should. This is not easy. It isn't easy to be a slave and it isn't easy to discover who you are when your time as a slave has ended.
The pervasiveness of his influence may never fully be known or come to a conscious awareness. This leg of the journey will be incredibly lengthy, difficult and fraught with uncertainty. When I talked to him of this, he told me it sounded like an exciting adventure.
For one who has been so fearless in so many aspects of life to be afraid in the face of the decision to shave or not to shave, is very disheartening. The paradigm has shifted and I can no longer use the formatted "What would Master prefer? What would Master choose? What would Master do?" as my guiding principle.
Now, the guiding principle must be "What is best for me? What do I like? How will this benefit me?"
I know that by making these decisions with intention is key. It would not be beneficial to simply react and choose the opposite of what SJ would choose. I move forward by making choices with a bigger picture in mind and that bigger picture is about serving myself first. That's something I've never done before. I can't remember ever putting myself first. I can't remember ever saying "my needs are what is most important". I'm just not wired that way, wasn't raised that way and making that shift will be one of the most difficult and challenging things I've ever done.
Yet it is necessary for me to move forward, to put this relationship in my past and discover all the wonderful things about myself which have long been dormant. The time is now and my future is for me.
Resolutely speaking ~ KM Kern
I can remember before SJ, that I was fairly neutral on chocolate - milk, dark, white - they each had their place and time and I don't remember having a stated or distinct preference for one over the other. Then, our first Christmas together, someone gave me a bar of dark chocolate and SJ said "That's good. She loves dark chocolate." I can remember an immediate internal shift and thought "I love dark chocolate!"
Call it brainwashing or training or anything else. It doesn't matter. All that mattered for me for the past 4 1/2 years is that if he said it, then it was. His words spoke directly to my unconscious mind and created a world in which my every thought, conscious or unconscious, was for the purpose of aligning my will with his. And so it was.
I have no idea if I like a bitter salad dressing, less oil and more vinegar. I have no idea if I like tomatoes, alone they still taste like raspberries to me.
I know I enjoyed music before SJ, I know I listened to a lot of the same music before we met as we did when we were together, and yet, am I listening with the same ear? Is it my taste or his taste?
For years, I have stated that if a girl can do anything but kneel she should. If you can walk away, you should. This is not easy. It isn't easy to be a slave and it isn't easy to discover who you are when your time as a slave has ended.
The pervasiveness of his influence may never fully be known or come to a conscious awareness. This leg of the journey will be incredibly lengthy, difficult and fraught with uncertainty. When I talked to him of this, he told me it sounded like an exciting adventure.
For one who has been so fearless in so many aspects of life to be afraid in the face of the decision to shave or not to shave, is very disheartening. The paradigm has shifted and I can no longer use the formatted "What would Master prefer? What would Master choose? What would Master do?" as my guiding principle.
Now, the guiding principle must be "What is best for me? What do I like? How will this benefit me?"
I know that by making these decisions with intention is key. It would not be beneficial to simply react and choose the opposite of what SJ would choose. I move forward by making choices with a bigger picture in mind and that bigger picture is about serving myself first. That's something I've never done before. I can't remember ever putting myself first. I can't remember ever saying "my needs are what is most important". I'm just not wired that way, wasn't raised that way and making that shift will be one of the most difficult and challenging things I've ever done.
Yet it is necessary for me to move forward, to put this relationship in my past and discover all the wonderful things about myself which have long been dormant. The time is now and my future is for me.
Resolutely speaking ~ KM Kern
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
It's been an exciting day. I went to work after blogging this morning and felt that same incredible spiritual connection to this home. I so desperately want to live there, to own it, to preserve it and nurture it back to health.
From the moment I first walked into this house, about 6 months ago now, I knew there was a reason (other than just work, money, etc) for my being there. It felt right. It felt serene. It felt like it was mine. Already mine. I believe that even more now.
After the darkened last days, as if the sun would never shine again and all hope of continuing seemed lost, I returned to this home and immediately upon walking through the gate, I was at peace. A peace flowed through me as I gazed upon the back yard. The Chinese magnolia which line the far fence line were all in bloom, dropping fragrant white petals like snow on the ground. Their aroma drew me as much as their beauty. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
I experienced a sense of that peace, that serenity which washed over me like baptismal waters throughout the day and even now I can recall it, bring it back to me. Serenity, happiness, joy, these are amazing gifts and I am the humble recipient.
grace ~ KM Kern
From the moment I first walked into this house, about 6 months ago now, I knew there was a reason (other than just work, money, etc) for my being there. It felt right. It felt serene. It felt like it was mine. Already mine. I believe that even more now.
After the darkened last days, as if the sun would never shine again and all hope of continuing seemed lost, I returned to this home and immediately upon walking through the gate, I was at peace. A peace flowed through me as I gazed upon the back yard. The Chinese magnolia which line the far fence line were all in bloom, dropping fragrant white petals like snow on the ground. Their aroma drew me as much as their beauty. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
I experienced a sense of that peace, that serenity which washed over me like baptismal waters throughout the day and even now I can recall it, bring it back to me. Serenity, happiness, joy, these are amazing gifts and I am the humble recipient.
grace ~ KM Kern
It's been a few days since I felt able to post. Lots of changes have occurred during that time. SJ and I made it official, posting a letter to our friends and community about our decision to end our 4 1/2 year relationship.
We shared one last wonderful weekend together, experiencing the protocols and rituals one last time. One last pedicure, one last tea service, one last rope meeting, one last scene.
I thought it serendipitous that we ended up playing under the bar in the center of the rope room. Usually, we play beneath the hoist, but since there was such a large crowd, we played under the suspension bar. It is serendipitous because our very first scene, the first night we met, was also under that bar. It was special. It will always be special.
One of my changes, Friday's change, was to decide to be celibate for this 46 days, and for however long after was necessary for me to feel ready, whole and complete again. I've seen far too many people jump into a new bed to somehow assuage the pain of leaving the former. I want to be different. I want to care for myself in healthy ways, loving myself even if that means the only loving I get comes from myself. And my Hitachi.
Saturday's change was very positive and will serve me well to continue communicating in this way. I asked for what I needed. I was clear and concise and SJ agreed with me. It led us to this magical and intentional weekend. We might have floundered, looked for innocuous excuses to justify our parting, or simply drown in my tears had we not.
The biggest change on Sunday was that his collar was removed for the last time. In a very touching gesture, SJ presented me with collar and suggested that I keep it and that he would keep the lock. It is now tucked in a box, one once filled with the most delightful milk chocolates given me by a lovely Irish lass. The box has the cuffs he presented me, his collar, a lock of my tresses, the two beautiful notes he wrote to me and a photo of him at the age of 18, the age we first encountered one another at 21st street Co-op. As time passes, I know I will add certain mementos, certain touchstones to this little box so that when I want to experience these memories fully, I can open the box and relive special, endearing moments of our life together.
Monday's change was extremely significant for me personally and signals a huge first step toward individuation. I changed my FetLife and CollarMe profiles to reflect my new status. On FetLife, I took the time to discuss how I was feeling, how I felt about our weekend and saved my former profile for posterity so that when the need arises I can revisit it. I also changed my status to "Sadomasochist". What a departure! For the years between my relationship with my ex-husband/former Master, my time with Austin Sybian and throughout my time with SJ, collared or not, I have known I was a slave.
At this time, I cannot imagine ever wearing another collar, ever serving another man as I have SJ. I no longer consider myself a slave. For years, I swore that the next collar I wore would be my last. Then I wore his and know that it simply is not the right place for me anymore.
On Tuesday, I took a big leap. It is huge for me. I spoke to a Dom who I trust and respect and asked him if we consider playing with me when the time is right. I know I will need to experience that, to cross that barrier before SJ and I travel to Kansas City in April. This is a hurdle I must cross and I cannot think of anyone I trust or love more to share this with me. He agreed. It might be a couple of weeks before I am ready, though the idea of getting my ass beat all to hell sounds pretty great right now.
It has been so long since I played with, well bottomed to anyone but SJ or Boss. I had one notably amazing, spontaneous scene with Lee Harrington last July. It was magical. Because it was spontaneous, hot, in the moment, I did not have to work through the process of deciding to play; it just happened, organically.
This next time, this new time, it will be intentional. The intention will be one of reclamation. I will be reclaiming my own power of who I share my body and my experiences with. I know this man well and am sure that this is the right decision for me.
Today's change is a change of focus. I am actively planning what I will do this weekend. My first weekend without a collar, my first weekend to plan completely on my own. It is amazingly difficult to go from making so few decisions to making them all. All. Three little letters with such huge implications. I am responsible for all of my own decisions. That is a reality check of epic proportions.
I move forward today, looking back less and less and learning to enjoy the scenery ahead of me.
Positively speaking ~ KM Kern
We shared one last wonderful weekend together, experiencing the protocols and rituals one last time. One last pedicure, one last tea service, one last rope meeting, one last scene.
I thought it serendipitous that we ended up playing under the bar in the center of the rope room. Usually, we play beneath the hoist, but since there was such a large crowd, we played under the suspension bar. It is serendipitous because our very first scene, the first night we met, was also under that bar. It was special. It will always be special.
One of my changes, Friday's change, was to decide to be celibate for this 46 days, and for however long after was necessary for me to feel ready, whole and complete again. I've seen far too many people jump into a new bed to somehow assuage the pain of leaving the former. I want to be different. I want to care for myself in healthy ways, loving myself even if that means the only loving I get comes from myself. And my Hitachi.
Saturday's change was very positive and will serve me well to continue communicating in this way. I asked for what I needed. I was clear and concise and SJ agreed with me. It led us to this magical and intentional weekend. We might have floundered, looked for innocuous excuses to justify our parting, or simply drown in my tears had we not.
The biggest change on Sunday was that his collar was removed for the last time. In a very touching gesture, SJ presented me with collar and suggested that I keep it and that he would keep the lock. It is now tucked in a box, one once filled with the most delightful milk chocolates given me by a lovely Irish lass. The box has the cuffs he presented me, his collar, a lock of my tresses, the two beautiful notes he wrote to me and a photo of him at the age of 18, the age we first encountered one another at 21st street Co-op. As time passes, I know I will add certain mementos, certain touchstones to this little box so that when I want to experience these memories fully, I can open the box and relive special, endearing moments of our life together.
Monday's change was extremely significant for me personally and signals a huge first step toward individuation. I changed my FetLife and CollarMe profiles to reflect my new status. On FetLife, I took the time to discuss how I was feeling, how I felt about our weekend and saved my former profile for posterity so that when the need arises I can revisit it. I also changed my status to "Sadomasochist". What a departure! For the years between my relationship with my ex-husband/former Master, my time with Austin Sybian and throughout my time with SJ, collared or not, I have known I was a slave.
At this time, I cannot imagine ever wearing another collar, ever serving another man as I have SJ. I no longer consider myself a slave. For years, I swore that the next collar I wore would be my last. Then I wore his and know that it simply is not the right place for me anymore.
On Tuesday, I took a big leap. It is huge for me. I spoke to a Dom who I trust and respect and asked him if we consider playing with me when the time is right. I know I will need to experience that, to cross that barrier before SJ and I travel to Kansas City in April. This is a hurdle I must cross and I cannot think of anyone I trust or love more to share this with me. He agreed. It might be a couple of weeks before I am ready, though the idea of getting my ass beat all to hell sounds pretty great right now.
It has been so long since I played with, well bottomed to anyone but SJ or Boss. I had one notably amazing, spontaneous scene with Lee Harrington last July. It was magical. Because it was spontaneous, hot, in the moment, I did not have to work through the process of deciding to play; it just happened, organically.
This next time, this new time, it will be intentional. The intention will be one of reclamation. I will be reclaiming my own power of who I share my body and my experiences with. I know this man well and am sure that this is the right decision for me.
Today's change is a change of focus. I am actively planning what I will do this weekend. My first weekend without a collar, my first weekend to plan completely on my own. It is amazingly difficult to go from making so few decisions to making them all. All. Three little letters with such huge implications. I am responsible for all of my own decisions. That is a reality check of epic proportions.
I move forward today, looking back less and less and learning to enjoy the scenery ahead of me.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Circumstance has created a situation in which I am no longer with the one I love. I treasure the memories of the love we shared and will always hold him in the highest regards...no matter what you might read on later dates!
I see this as a record of my journey, this new journey into uncharted territory, a territory where I am the loci of my energy and attention, where I am the author of my own fairy tale (thank you Kelly Swanson) and where I am the Captain and Navigator of my own vessel.
For the next 46 days, I intend to share this journey of change, wonder and exploration as I discover who I am and what it is I want out of life and then bring that into being, completely and fully, in rich and vivid detail. I will be turning 46 on March 6, so in the midst of this 46 days, I, myself will be 46. The number of days happens to coincide to the Lenten season, which has held great importance to me for the majority of my life. 46 days commences today and ends on Easter Sunday and so like Jesus, the Phoenix and Stockard Channing, I too, shall rise anew.
I will make changes in five areas of life over these next few weeks and will share them here. The areas are: Emotional, Spiritual, Physical, Professional, and Home. The first four may be fairly obvious, the last refers to the physical site in which I reside. Lots of changes have occurred which grant me an opportunity to make some more changes and improvements to my domicile. All these changes, the failed attempts and the rousing successes, I will share here. Photos will be added as I have them in hand, or more likely, on the Blackberry.
This being the first day, I made the first, initial change: I cut off my hair. What once was long, lying over the shoulder blades, is now short, like K D Lang short, like Rhiana short. My 13 year old son said when he saw it "Your hair looks great! You're really starting to look like a dyke!" I had to explain why it was improper to use the term dyke, then I thanked him. He commented many times throughout the evening of how much he liked it.
I was not so pleased. It has been years, six in fact, since I saw a hairdresser on a regular basis. So I asked for and received recommendations from two women whose hair I admire greatly. SMH Didn't work out the way I had hoped.
I thought I gave a thorough but brief description of what I wanted, I thought I pointed to the appropriate pictures in the book, I thought she understood me and my desires. She scalped me. Scalped!
I asked for a short to mid length cut, rolling onto the collar, but not hanging on the shoulders, with layers framing the face, soft, feminine curls and instead I look like Johnny Depp circa 21 Jump Street. Minus the cheek bones...
Alas, I did not have time to color it tonight. That will wait for the morrow. Another day, another change.
As time passes, I will discuss more changes, some of the past and moving toward my future. My future, now that sounds good to me.
With pluperfect love ~ KM Kern
I see this as a record of my journey, this new journey into uncharted territory, a territory where I am the loci of my energy and attention, where I am the author of my own fairy tale (thank you Kelly Swanson) and where I am the Captain and Navigator of my own vessel.
For the next 46 days, I intend to share this journey of change, wonder and exploration as I discover who I am and what it is I want out of life and then bring that into being, completely and fully, in rich and vivid detail. I will be turning 46 on March 6, so in the midst of this 46 days, I, myself will be 46. The number of days happens to coincide to the Lenten season, which has held great importance to me for the majority of my life. 46 days commences today and ends on Easter Sunday and so like Jesus, the Phoenix and Stockard Channing, I too, shall rise anew.
I will make changes in five areas of life over these next few weeks and will share them here. The areas are: Emotional, Spiritual, Physical, Professional, and Home. The first four may be fairly obvious, the last refers to the physical site in which I reside. Lots of changes have occurred which grant me an opportunity to make some more changes and improvements to my domicile. All these changes, the failed attempts and the rousing successes, I will share here. Photos will be added as I have them in hand, or more likely, on the Blackberry.
This being the first day, I made the first, initial change: I cut off my hair. What once was long, lying over the shoulder blades, is now short, like K D Lang short, like Rhiana short. My 13 year old son said when he saw it "Your hair looks great! You're really starting to look like a dyke!" I had to explain why it was improper to use the term dyke, then I thanked him. He commented many times throughout the evening of how much he liked it.
I was not so pleased. It has been years, six in fact, since I saw a hairdresser on a regular basis. So I asked for and received recommendations from two women whose hair I admire greatly. SMH Didn't work out the way I had hoped.
I thought I gave a thorough but brief description of what I wanted, I thought I pointed to the appropriate pictures in the book, I thought she understood me and my desires. She scalped me. Scalped!
I asked for a short to mid length cut, rolling onto the collar, but not hanging on the shoulders, with layers framing the face, soft, feminine curls and instead I look like Johnny Depp circa 21 Jump Street. Minus the cheek bones...
Alas, I did not have time to color it tonight. That will wait for the morrow. Another day, another change.
As time passes, I will discuss more changes, some of the past and moving toward my future. My future, now that sounds good to me.
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