I’m back home after 7 weeks away, trying to muddle through sleeping unaided, to transition from sleeping alone to sleeping with another human and a dog again, and I’m doing a shit job. After a ten hour drive I crashed early and slept until 10 p.m., and I’ve been awake and in some discomfort from sleeplessness, anxiety and a pulled something in my upper thigh from lifting suitcases (I assume) off-and-on since then (it’s 3:30 a.m. now.) And A has to be up at 4:30 to get ready for work because he’s on 11 hour days for the holiday season so I’m trying not to disturb him…thank god he’s a heavy sleeper.
I feel like some kind of explanation of who and where I am now is in order. There’s been a lot of years, a lot of life, between the “then” of this space before and the “now.” Writing here now – reclaiming this space – feels weird. Uncomfortable in a way, but also comfortably familiar; a dichotomy.
I left here to go to my own, non-Wordpress-hosted blog years ago. Two blogs and an unethical domain host later, another blog started and stopped and a semi-withdrawal from the blogging and social media world after some relationship upheaval and some poor decisions on my part later, and here I am, back where I started. It’s been a long and windy road, to quote someone else.
And here I am, back to writing about my life, my loves, sex and kink and everything in-between. I lost the love of my life, the first subject of this blog. I remain the partner of one who was left behind with me, A, my stalwart, lionhearted lover and companion. Eventually I gained a new partner in kink, though I do not know if I will mention him here, except in passing, as his presence in these and other pages has always been a precursor to my disappearance from blogging again. I have another kink partner, M, my long-distance snowbird, who you will no doubt read about as he does not object to being a character in these pages. And there is always the potential for others, because, in my heart of hearts, I know I seek to find what I had before. Can it be had? I don’t know. But I won’t stop living while I am looking.
It’s been more than 10 years since the previous entries here were written. I am a different woman than I was then. My circumstances so very different. My life was so much bigger and richer and fuller then. I had an entire world to live in, and the expansive love of my two men to bask in. Kink was what we did and who we were; love was also what we did and who we were. The world was ours to mold into exactly the shape we wanted it.
And then W died, and my world crashed down, constricted, became so small I think I lost it for awhile, my world. I think Ad worried he lost me too, as well as W. But I struggled up out of that. And then the next kink relationship I chose narrowed that world down in some ways, squashed the light I had inside me even as it lifted me up out of the dark. I have struggled to find that light again, to find me again. I am surfacing now, finding myself, and part of that self is in the pages of whatever blog I choose to write. As I said, however, this blog won’t be about that relationship, about him, even though he continues to be a large part of my life. I hope to fill this space with musings of my own on the nature of love and sex and kink, not necessarily with, “I did this and that.” But, who knows, that’s the kind of writing I know and prefer, so that may have a place here.
