Friday, August 26, 2011

My favorite place

Well we talked and it was a bit long and lead to a bit of a rabbit hole, but we are straight now.

We wentt to Rome yesterday and I was thinking about how much I love the way The Man is so protective. He holds my hand everywhere. He looks to see where I"m at all the time. He tells me when to cross the street and to watch my step.

I was thinking about how some women would hate it. Some women would be like, oh my gosh, I can cross the street all by myself thank you! But not me. I don't see it as Him thinking I'm incapable, I see it as Him needing His piece of mind that I'm safe. I love that He loves me that much. I love that worries over me. I love that I am that important to The Man.

I know that some women would resent being controlled, watched over, constantly told what to do. I know some would hate asking permission for everything and being held accountable. I know some women would feel suffocated. I don't. I love the way He loves me. I love that it doesn't matter what it is, He is going to make sure that we are okay. That I am okay. That nothing happens to me, and nothing happens to us. I rely on it. I rely on His ability to say no because that would endanger what we have, or you, or some other thing.... even when my knee jerk reaction is to not like it, or to disagree with His call on it... He still says no. He still insists that we don't take any steps that might damage us. Part of that, in His mind, is making sure that nothing happens to me because if something happened to me, then obviously something would happen to us. It's part and parcel and I adore it.

Submission is hard sometimes because it means letting go of what you think, or what you want, or what you like, or your sense of independence. I think for me, the sense of being dependant is probably the hardest thing of all to constantly adjust to..... it scares me how lost I would be without Him, without us. Yet, what scares me more is missing out on a piece of us because I was too scared to take His hand, and let Him guide me across the road.  So I let go, again and again, I let go and I trust in Him and then I wonder what I was even trying to hold onto in the first place because being wrapped up in His protective spirit of "us" is my favorite place to be.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Negative Nancy or Rachel Reality?

This time I know I’m right. It was a bull shit thing to say. Not lady like, I realize, but I don’t have any other way of stating it… it was a bullshit thing to say. It was born of tiredness and stress… got that. Doesn’t make me feel any better. So here it is and The Man is asleep and I’m stewing. How come they can sleep? I can’t. I stew. Admittedly I asked it be tabled until tomorrow… when being grouchy wouldn’t come into play, but that doesn’t mean I’m sleeping. Don’t get me wrong.. it’s cool they can sleep, I just sort of marvel over that difference. Anyhow.
We have always been on the same page. Reality is your friend. Rose colored glasses are only worn by those scared of facing reality. Reality means acknowledging all of the things about Italy that suck. For real.
Garbage filling the streets.
Buildings that look a lot like Central DC.
Burning garbage that stinks.
Appliances that don’t work…. Ever.
Pollution that makes you marvel over the area being open to Military.
Water that literally has toxic waste.
A crap school.
The people suck for anything other than chatting.
And let’s not even talk about the driving.
Okay. We joke. We make fun. We acknowledge it’s grossness. It’s how we cope.
I made a joke tonight and was informed that we have a long time here and that we needed to be positive about it. Huh. Okay. It wasn’t said nicely… it was filled with biting annoyance. Wow. Got it. I’m negative. Not reality based, negative.. Bullshit thing to say.
I also frequently mention:
That I love this house, despite cleaning it.
I love our view from the patio.
I love the view I wake up to.
I love chatting with the people.
I love the Country side.
I love the sunset.
I love the breeze.
I love everything we have learned here and I wouldn’t take it back.
That covers a few on both sides. See what I mean? Reality is looking at everything. He’s always agreed. When people said I was horrible for not just looking at the great things, I called it reality. He agreed. Only now, guess what? No no… they were right, I’m negative. I need to be positive to make this work. And He wonders why I’d take that personally.
Okay… so show me so many great things then that it’s all I see. Or tell me it was a bullshit thing to say. I’m not interested in it being twisted into meaning something it didn’t mean.
Want to know what I wonder? Will He wake up tomorrow and say it was bullshit? Or does He expect me to lie and stop saying what I think?

~sidenote, written on an old computer and I can't fix the font! So if it looks funny~Sorry!!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Grouchland is not worth visiting

It was HOT! So so so soooo stinkin hot that part of my brain melted, slid out my ear, and landed on the floor somewhere. I swear it's the only possible explanation.

Mr. Man makes a nice paycheck. He provides us with a nice life, a nice house, a nice... everything. Since He provides, He also chooses where said paycheck is disbursed. Fair enough. We live in Italy, as I've mentioned, and this is important for understanding some of the things we deal with. Our house is right by the Ocean.. lovely view, and a breeze that sweeps through with such strength at times it's down right windy in our home. We don't care if it's 90 out because the house is cool. Unless the unthinkable happens... no breeze. When it's 98 outside, and the breeze decides it doesn't feel like waving, this matters... like a lot!

In Italy there isn't central air. There are these things that hang on the top of the wall in each room that are supposed to be air conditioners. Electricity in Italy is insanely expensive. These "fabulous" air conditioners cost around 300 dollars a month, to run one, in one room, for a month, in the evening only. Yes, that's right 300 on top of your already insane electric bill. The Man doesn't feel the need to disburse this amount to the electric company. Again, the vast majority of days... we don't need it, it would be incredibly silly to use them.

Yesterday though was different. I mean oh my gosh... sooooo different.

98... check

humidity... check

zero breeze... check

Man at work in air conditioned office.... check

Me sweltering....check

Are you seeing how we might run into some issues here?

So I'm beyond irritated and I send The man an emailing explaining (read whining) about how hot it was and how miserable I was. I tell Him that I can't get a flippin thing done, not the floors (which I spend my life cleaning btw because they are white marble, seriously, 6 people, 2 dogs, and a persian, white, marble... shoot me), Not the laundry, not the patios, nothing, because it is soooo hot I can't even walk down the stairs without sweating. I'm cranky, really cranky, and hot, and have a list that I can't get done.

He writes me back and tells me to do the floors and then turn the AC on for an hour or so, or don't do anything, or hang out in the hammock.

Well, I don't want to sit in the hot sun! I don't want to do nothing, and I definitely do not want to turn the AC on for an hour or so after doing the stupid floors. I want to shut all the windows, crank ALL the AC units and get my stuff done! Now I'm in Super Grouch mode, thank you, so I take a cold shower, I hang out, and I stew in my grouchiness. I briefly contemplate not putting His laundry away because after all, HE was the one who said not to do anything. Fortunately, my brain, sort of mushy from the heat was still in gear enough to save my backside. Until He comes home.

We hang out, have a drink, I keep the grouchy kinda in check, but do manage to convey how miserable I've been all day and how frustrated I am over not being able to get anything done. He listens, He nods, He understands it was incredibly hot. It's still hot, but not as hot, but it doesn't matter, I don't feel any better... I've been too hot all day to have anything matter at this point.

I go downstairs and proceed to cook in front of a gas stove, sweltering even more... this is where I'm pretty sure part of my brain slid out of my ear. I come back upstairs and before I know it, I'm over the side of the bed and I get 6 quick, fairly painless slaps with His belt.

I was furious. I was soooo angry that I busted into tears on the spot. Now, in this house it's okay for me to be mad... as long as I say my peace (read: don't stomp off or pull away) and say it respectfully. So I do...

I tell The Man flat out I'm angry!

I go on about how I sat in this sweltering house aaallll day!

I didn't get anything done that I wanted to get done because I was so frickin hot!

I make HIS dinner over a gas stove which only leaves me hotter!

I make HIM a drink, HOOF it alllll the way upstairs for Him!

I'm super sweaty and seriously cranky, and after all that, he spanks me?! Doesn't he even care how cranky I am? How hot I am? How much I still did do? Seriously?!

Hmmm did I really just say that? I think I might have just tipped the line on acceptable, but I was soooo right. I mean, was I right or was I right?

He laughed at me.

He pulled me down onto the bed and chuckled at me.

Then Mr. Man goes on to say, "Baby, I told you to turn on the AC for a couple of hours. I told you to lay out in the hammock and work on your tan like you like to do. I told you that you had the day off from chores. I told you to sit around and do whatever you felt like, read, go on the computer, whatever, just stay cool."

"That is not what you said! You said I could turn it on IF I did the floors."

"Did you read what I wrote, baby? Because that email was very clear that you could turn it on for a couple of hours. And if you weren't clear, all you had to do was ask."

Crap! I'd been too far past cranky to really read it. I'd looked for the one line I wanted to see.... turn them all on. He gave me the day off and a couple of hours of AC and I was so busy hosting my pity party that I didn't even see it! Double crap~ I wasn't right! I'm never right! Every time I think, this time, I am so right, He lays it all out for me, and suddenly, I am so NOT right.

He tips my face and gives me that deadly serious look. "And I did think about you, why do you think those slaps were so light? And furthermore, you do what I tell you to do. Whether that's washing the floors, or taking the day off, you don't get to get caught up in what you want, you think about what I've told you to do. It doesn't matter what it is."


"Unless you want 6 more that I guarantee aren't going to be small slaps with that belt you will knock off your BS, got it?"

"Yes Sir."

"I didn't spend all day at work looking forward to coming home and spending time with you, for you to be behaving like this. So, secure the attitude, now, got it?"

Uh huh!

And I did! And that's one of those things that makes all this so great. At another point in my life I would have carried the grouch all the way into bed with me.  Now I don't, now it isn't allowed. I'm so grateful because I don't want to waste one minute I could have enjoying being with The Man, wasted in Grouchland!

I still got it extra hard at bedtime.... just enough to spill some tears and put the exclamation point on the lecture. Just enough to make sure that today I stayed away from Grouchland~ it's a very dangerous place for a girl to go. Especially a girl whose been given a solid warning about the perils of visiting. The Man seems to think that if a warning is given, and NOT duly noted, then you wind up with double! So, today I am staying at Happy Camper Land~ it helps that the breeze is better.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Birthday Spanking?!

TV flicks off, The Man looks at me and says several things, but I can't hear them because I'm stuck on one particular phrase, "Your 41 cane strokes."

I'm sorry, what??


"Yeah, it's your birthday, 41 strokes of the cane just for you."


"Uh but if it's my birthday shouldn't I get what I want?"

"Yeah, and you did. Now you get your Birthday spanking."

"But but I don't want a Birthday spanking."

"See I think that Birthday spankings were invented as an excuse for people who like spanking other people. I like spanking and it's your Birthday."

"I don't recall this from last year, I don't know about new traditions and all that."

"We weren't together last year, oh wait, yes we were, but we were in the middle of moving and exhausted. It's not a new tradition, I did it the year before."

Why don't I remember this? Selective memory perhaps? Think... think....

"But my stoma~" I was going to say was too full from the amazing dinner he made, but realized He'd just put me in some crazy position or make me stand and bend or something. Bad idea. Still thinking.....oh oh got it!

"You know, since you love spanking me and I love to make you happy, maybe you should divvy it up. You know, not do it all in one night. Savor it a bit. Liiiiike say 10 a night for four nights."

"I already give you 10 every night, so you mean 20 every night for four nights."

Now it's true He sends me to sleep with 10, but they aren't that hard usually.... just enough to make me squirm, wriggle, whimper, and make Him happy. 41, even of those though sounded like a lot! And I wasn't convinced that He wouldn't get a little carried away in His enjoyment and wind up wanting to make me reallly wriggle and squirm! Even 20 every night sounded like dangerous territory!

"Noooo no no that isn't really quite what I was thinking. Somehow that turns 41 into like 80!"

"Actually, I don't think I'm going to cane you."

Sideways glance and wait for it because there is no possible way The Man is just letting this go.

"It's supposed to be a spanking after all, so I think I'll paddle you."


"Omg! You aren't going to make me cry are you?!" I do not like paddles, I do not like them, anywhere anytime anyplace that concerns me!

"Come here."

And before I know it there I am, face down, getting a Birthday spanking over his knee... And I had to count, of course I had to count. What is with the counting?! And of course I had to get one to grow on! Which really isn't fair since I'm supposed to be shrinking, not growing... shouldn't I have actually gotten one less?? Just sayin'.

Here's the thing that floors a lot of people... I don't like getting spanked! Not for fun, not for discipline, not for anything. I do love feeling His power, I love submitting to The Man, I love every little thing about it..... except the actual spanking. :) The physical act is the conduit to all the rest that I need and crave. So you can see why, for me, I was not all keen and like woo a spanking. Especially one that was with His hand, which might as well be made of wood, as well as, a real, thick, wooden paddle. Ack! I should also mention that when you are counting to 41, that it suddenly seems like a really big number!

I have to admit though it wasn't nearly as bad as I momentarily feared. I have to admit that the rotation between hand and paddle did make the paddle a little easier. I have to admit that what followed after the paddling was well worth the Birthday spanking. What I'm really wondering about though is how I'm going to get this little tradition to cease before I turn 50 because that is just way too big a number! I've got nine years to figure this out... it seems like that should be plenty of time, and yet, I'm not certain it is.  

I'm already imagining my fiftieth birthday, me stewing and people saying, "It's okay, really 50 isn't bad at all." And I'll be thinking, Yes it is! Don't you know how long it can take to count to 50???

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Coming out of the closet

Being wide open was not something I came by naturally. I remember a time when I frequently hid in the closet. The door, much to my chagrin, didn't have a lock, but it was the only place I could go without someone noticing. I never managed to stay in it for very long before The Man would notice I'd become MIA.

I haven't thought about those "closet days" in a long time, and now, they are funny, but back then... not so funny. I'd get overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry, or frustrated or some kind of something and I'd run. I couldn't help it. I was so scared of telling Him.

I wasn't scared of Him, (Well, okay I was and am, but in a good way! ;) I was terrified though of being... honest! What if Mr. Patient got mad? What if He didn't understand and made me feel stupid? What if He laughed at me? What if He thought I was being ridiculous and overly emotional? What if I irritated Him? What if... He didn't listen, or validate, or yelled, or... or.... what if I started crying? How many times could I cry without Him getting sick of it?! What if I was being stupid? What if I was being overly emotional, or unfair?! I needed to hide, to sort it out in my own head, to figure out if I could sweep it under the rug and forget about it! I was a Professional Rug Sweeper, let me tell ya.

Up until then my natural state of being was to sweep everything under the rug until the pile got so high in the corner you were tripping over it. Theeen I'd pull it back and let it a little out. This seemed to have been a good route my entire life. Obviously, it really wasn't because I was flunking in the course of Good Relationships, but hey, it was the system I was comfortable with.

So something would happen that would cause me some sense of anxiety and I'd go to the closet. I thought I could hide there just long enough to figure things out, but it never worked out that way. I'm a slow learner sometimes. I kept trying it. He'd always come find me. Sometimes He'd come sit next to me and we'd talk it all out right there, in what had become "my spot." Sometimes He'd ask me to come out and pull me onto the bed for a snuggle and a talk. Every single time though I wound up getting spanked. Every time.

He never did get angry, or irritated, or make me feel stupid, or overly emotional. He never left me feeling like I hadn't been heard. He'd scoop me up, pull me together and make me reveal every little thought that was flitting wildly through my head and my heart. I'd stammer, and I'd cry, and I couldn't look at Him, but somehow.... it all came out. Then He'd spank me for running. For not being open to Him, for hiding from Him.

Other times I'd be stubborn, tell Him it was nothing. I think I tried telling Him that I just happened to be in the closet looking for something. He pulled me out, threw me over the bed and spanked me into a blubbering mess. Then it would all come pouring out.

Finally, it occurred to me, that if either way you sliced it, I was going to wind up telling Him, maybe I should try to do it without having to go through the spanking, blubbering mess part. I told you, sometimes I am a slooooow learner.

So I began coming, ever so timidly to Him. I think I even said something about how normally I'd be in the closet, but was trying a new route. It was a lot easier. He'd just pull me in to a deep snuggle and patiently listen to fifteen minutes of um... well... it's just that... I mean... :) until I finally got it out. Got it all out without being thrown over the bed before or after.... well, okay sometimes I still wound up over the bed, but in a muuuch better way :)

Now, it's funny how easily I go to Him. I still struggle getting it out, but the stammer is cut down to like five minutes! Sometimes I'm mulling over how to start and He sees it spinning in my head and He asks. I give Him that look that I still can't help of slight insecurity, He takes my hand, pulls me onto His lap, and says, "What's going on baby?" And it tumbles out. A process that used to take two hours of spanking, prodding, crying, and reassurance is now like a ten minute process.

It took four years to get here. Four years of building trust and that's what it comes down to. I trust Him enough to tell Him everything. I trust that The Man is going to hear me, calm me, explain to me, help me, validate me... I trust that He is going to give me whatever it is that I need. I trust that when He said He wants to know everything, He truly does want to know. The Man had to set aside any feelings He had of anger, frustration, irritation, being tired, and focus solely on bringing me back into Him. At some point I had to be brave enough to start stepping into Him instead of running from Him. I still run a little, emotionally, for a minute, but then I remember there isn't anything to run from.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Sweet Spot

So today I'm thinking a lot, a HUGE amount on how much the Man has changed my life for the better. I don't know what I'd do without Him, I really don't. I come from a crazy family. I mean they take all the fun out of dysfunctional. You can't even get a good laugh out of it because you are so busy scooping your jaw off the floor. The really crazy part is that they aren't even alcoholics or anything, they are just totally off the charts crazy! Okay, they were mostly raised by alcoholics so that probably has something to do with it, but still it's their very own brand of insane.

Here's the problem... I was raised differently. I have completely different reactions to things. I like to call my reactions... sanity. They however, do not recognize sanity because they well, aren't sane. It's unfamiliar territory to them. To them, I am the insane one who needs "fixing," because since they all see things the same way, and I'm the odd man out... obviously, I am the crazy one. The fact that I have an amazingly happy life where everything I ever dreamed of is a part of it, while they live in various states of misery, doesn't seem to register with them.... of course that's part of the whole "crazy factor." 

Another piece of the "crazy factor" is that when you are the one sane person amongst insanity you begin doubting yourself. It's truly bizarre, but it happens. They have this way of sucking you in. They have this way of making you think, that just maybe, since you are the only one in the herd, it really is you! 

When I met The Man, he asked me three things I wanted to work on for me. I listed being able to get disentangled from my family, as one. I kept trying to do it. I, in fact would do it for awhile, but somehow, they'd always reel me back, send me to the brink of insanity... and then I'd reign myself in. I told Him that I'd really like to stop that particular merry go round. It wasn't healthy. It did nothing, but produce negativity in my life, but I just didn't know how to do it. I admit, at that point, I still could get hung up on "family obligation." I also don't like fighting, or conflict and I couldn't ever seem to sort of go my own way, without a major fight!

So here's The Man. He comes along and He teaches me what love really is all about. He teaches me how to be honest without being hurtful. He teaches me to examine my own hypocrisies. He teaches me to listen without judgment. He teaches me to see the world in a whole new beautiful light. Or maybe, it'd be better to say that He taught me all of the things I thought might be true, were. He taught me how to not only think of boundaries, but to actually put them in place. He taught me to be true to myself and my beliefs. He helped change me into who I always wanted to be. Or better yet, He taught me how to be strong enough to be true to myself.  I was trying to be healthy in a situation that was impossible to be healthy in because I didn't have anyone shoring me up, saying, no honey, it isn't you that sees this all kinds of messed up.. it IS all kinds of messed up. Whew! 

So at long last, I've become disentangled. I can not adequately express what a relief it is. I can not begin to express how grateful I am to have Him, shoring me up, and teaching me how wide open love can be. There's the key though. In order for Him to help me learn all of these things, I had to be wide open to Him. No hiding. No secrets. No hidden fears or guilt. Wide open all of the time. He insisted on it and when it was hard, He forced it. 

I see TTWD as a piece of the whole... The marriage is about being wide open to each other, without secrets, judgments, recriminations, criticism, and so on. I think the relationship is supposed to make you a stronger, better, healthier, happier, you. I don't know why spanking seems to help make people more open to one another, it just does. To me, that's the whole point, being wide open to one another, that's the sweet spot, that's where you find everything; truth, love, yourself, and your very best friend.

Love this!