doubleknot’s ruminations

I need to get rid of the “couple” identity.  I hadn’t realized how strongly present it has remained, in spite of the drift between us over the course of our marriage.  You can bicker and fight, but you’re still a married couple.  Until you end it.  Now that he is out, I find myself with a sort of identity crisis going on here.

I don’t know who I am.  I am not his wife.  (Well, I am… until the divorce is final)  I am no longer part of couple-ness.  I am still a mother and a nurse, and a slave…  I dunno.  I am struggling with how to act.

I admit I am feeling a bit depressed today.  Maybe it’s because of the rain.  Maybe it’s because it’s the first day off I’ve had in a week, and time to sit and think is not always a good thing for me.  I seem to do better with crises when I have to keep busy and functional.  Free time seems to be the enemy.  Master noticed this trait in me long ago.

And I’ve been trying to keep busy today.  First thing this morning, I took the kids out to breakfast.  Master said I should do something with the kids to sort of connect with them; see how they are doing.  Only I did it wrong.  I went and invited hubby, because I keep feeling sorry for him.  I feel guilty and figure he is at his place missing us.  He said as much.  So I invited him.  But it was the wrong thing to do.

We (me and the kids) had a few minutes alone before their dad got to the restaurant, so I asked how they were doing.  They seemed a bit puzzled by the question and didn’t have too much to say.  As soon as hub joined us, there was all this tension.  I’m thinkin’ it wasn’t such a good idea.

He and I basically bickered the whole time.  Nothing heavy.  He was talking about a frustrating situation he was experiencing related to the move and I was giving him my unsolicited advice.  It was just like old times.  The irritation was rising in his voice and I realized my mistake in inviting him.  It seems we cannot enjoy each others’ company, and that trying to present an illusion of doing so, “for the kids’ sake” was wrong.

I am thinking it’s best in the future if the two of us do not do things together with the kids.  He can take them and do things minus me.  I don’t know why I did that.  It was weird and uncomfortable.

Now I’m in a funk.  I started cleaning some.  I miss Master terribly.  I seem to be needing him more and more.  And I don’t know where that leaves me.  I am wanting to jump from one “couple-hood” thing to another.  Only Master isn’t in a position to be my other half.  I guess I am frustrated.

I was invited to go over to a friend’s house for a cook-out later and I might take him up on the offer.  I don’t know what else to do with myself.  It’s not like I can go out for some shopping therapy.  I did get some forbidden treats at the store yesterday.  I already ate two cupcakes today, plus a big breakfast.  If I keep that up, I’m going to gain back all the weight I lost.  And that ain’t gonna happen.  No way.  No how.

My blog stats are going down.  I guess that means my subject matter is less popular lately.  That’s okay.  It’s not even that popular to me either.  Lol.

Maybe I’ll take a nap.  Or read a book.  Or both.

Technorati Tags: divorce, ick, weirdness, separation, confusion

Well, he’s out.  Son helped him with the move.  I worked.  But the next day I stopped by with my daughter for a bit.  Brought him some dishes and things, took her to an activity then returned to his place with lunch.  Still no food in the house on the second day.  I guess that’s a man for ya.  Maybe he just didn’t feel hungry.

I know my stomach has been kind of upset this past week.  I’m glad I worked a lot.  The kids seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered.  And it was weird; we met in the grocery store today.  All of us.  Son was working, the rest of us shopping.  Every now and then hub would ask me for guidance on buying things like dishwasher soap or floor cleaner.

I don’t know how I feel.  I mean, I feel mixed.  Yes, it’s a relief he’s out.  But there is such an overwash of guilt oozing down over me that goes along with that relief.  I wish I wasn’t plagued by the guilt.  Hub is just now realizing how unhappy I was in the marriage.  He says he feels like he was evicted.  *guilt*.  Oh well.  If he didn’t want to move out, or if he’d refused, then I would’ve moved out instead.  And then we’d have to sell the house because he couldn’t afford to live in it.  So either way, he’s out of his house.

And I guess I could see how that might make me a bitch.  *guilt*  Because I forced the man out of his home.  I also made their daddy go away.  *guilt*  Even though the home will be much calmer without him in it.  I still can’t get over that one easily.  Now we have to get in the car (or walk the mile and a half) to go see daddy.

We are meeting for breakfast in the morning.  All four of us.  I invited him over for a cookout tomorrow, but he thinks it’d be too weird, so he said no thanks.  *guilt*  and *sigh*

I hate for anyone to be mad at me.  And while I know I’ve given him plenty of reason to be, he doesn’t seem to be mad at me just yet.  I suppose it’s coming.  The holidays will be hard; especially for him.  Ugh.

Master says not to dwell on how he is feeling and to heed him on this.  I’m trying, but it’s hard because of what I just mentioned:  I hate for anyone to be mad at me.

I don’t know what I expected.  I guess I expected hub to agree with me and go willingly, which, basically he did.  But he is pretty unhappy about it.  Which, I am not dwelling on.

*nibbles a finger and tries to move onto something else…*

So… Master met me for breakfast the other day to do a “property maintenance check” or something or other.  I said he could just do that online with the webcam.  He said that no, he needs to see my face and be able to look into my eyes.  So after looking at my face and into my eyes at breakfast, he decided that I am doing okay, lol.  And, I am.  A shaky okay I guess.  I am putting one foot in front of the other and taking one day at a time.  Which is all I can really handle just now.

Oh, and I am picking up any extra shifts I can get my hands on, because the budget scares the hell outta me now that my household income has been cut nearly in half.  But that’s another blog post altogether, lol.  I have yet to see this new budget Master has promised, but as I told him the other day, there won’t be much to budget; most if not all of my income will be spent on bills.  *sigh*

I gotta say though, I love having the place to myself.  Not having to share decisions with another adult is keen-o.  And it’s funny, I’ve taken a new interest in …. everything around here.  I want to redecorate a lil bit.  I care more about the appearance of the yard now that he’s gone… I want to clean the house more.  What’s up with that???  It’s weird.  I think I was kinda depressed before and now I feel… maybe lighter.  Definitely better.  This was a good move.

As bad as I feel for him, I cannot deny that overall, for me, it’s better.  And I am hoping that the kids sense this and it gets better for them as well.  Though, I can see very little sign that it is affecting them adversely so far, outside of a little bit of moodiness in my daughter.  (well, moreso than normal, that is)

Things are just different.  But I think things are better, and will continue to get better as I get stronger.  And hopefully as hub settles down into his new life.  (and hopefully avoids sinking into a depression.  that would kill me.  I still care about him quite a bit.)

So, that’s my update for the week.  My shoulder, and knees, and other bits of me are vaguely sore.  Not too sure what’s up with that.  I think it’s best for me to keep busy right now.  I suspect if I had too much time off, I might want to ruminate a little too much about all of these changes.  And Master doesn’t want me doing that I’ll bet.  Lol.

Happy 4th of July!  Go shoot of a bottle rocket or something.  Just stay out of the ER!

Technorati Tags: divorce, thriving, Master’s good care

I have to tell you about this one bit I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post.

Talking superficially about what’s new with him, and how was work for me, etc, was fairly easy.  I vented a lot about my hub’s upcoming big move out.  This choked me up a bit, because as I said, the tears are very near the surface lately all the time.  But even that didn’t bring on the water works.  It was when he started putting me in my place.  Reminding me that even through all of this, I am still his slave.

I think it was Tristan’s comment that sorta reminded me.  He said, “do as you’re told, allow him to own you. You know you want it, (*re-reads all your blog posts – yep, you want it*) and now that things are getting so emotional, let yourself relax into his world.”  It is when I do that that I really lose it.  The flood of tears comes.  It came yesterday in that bar and I was so embarrassed.

And to make matters worse, Master took a cocktail napkin and dabbed my tears right there in public.  It took me to a new level of submission.  I couldn’t fight it.  My hands just lay there, limply in my lap.  And while it was somewhat humiliating to have my tears dried by the hand of my Master, at the same time it was sort of comforting.  I cried more.  And I soooo didn’t want to be doing that there!

*Sigh*

Well, it is what it is I guess.  And perhaps I was doing just what Tristan suggested, relaxing into his ownership.

It is a very good thing.

Wow, it’s really weird how past relationship experience bleeds into present ones.  Not so good when the present one involves a Master.  Because they don’t like being told,

“No, I’m not doing that.”

“I am not taking your money.”

“I am not depending on you.”

“Yes, I’m scared, but no, I cannot lean on you for support.  That would make me appear needy.”

“I am selling my house and doing x, y, and z, because that’s what I need to do.”

Meanwhile….  Master is saying…

“Yes you can lean on me.”

“Yes, you will do what I say.”

“You will take my help, even if it is monetary.”

“I take care of what I own, and I take care of you first.”

Wow.  Just,  Wow.

We met for drinks.  I was tense.  No.  I was wound up more tightly than Master has ever seen me.

The tears kept threatening, lying just under the surface.

Master kept …. saying things that made me want to cry.  When he took my hand and gently teased my palm with his fingers I said,

“Don’t go doing that.”

He said I was crossing the line by saying that.  He kept tickling my palm, held in both of his hands.  Then sure enough,

I cried.

Right in front of the pretty, young bartender.

The bartender Master made me tell TWICE that I’m an owned slave; because apparently, (Master was right) she hadn’t heard me the first time.  And I’d told him several times, “I’m not telling her.  I can’t.”

“You’ll do whatever I tell you.”

Well.

I am getting divorced.

Hub moves out in less than two days.

I am Master’s owned property, and he loves me.

Thank god.

I think I will be okay, if I don’t go crazy.

Technorati Tags: divorce, Master’s good care, ownership, resistance

What a weekend!

Technorati Tags: divorce, control

(Traveling in Master’s dual-climate control vehicle on a 95-degree day…)

dk:  (shivering with goosebumps all over…) “Master, your cold air is drifting over to my side…”

M:   “You don’t have a side”

I just got back.  I was reading through the comments from my last post, eyes getting all tearful.

Kaya said to go ahead and grieve.  That’s it, pretty much.  I am grieving.  We had a good run, him and me.  It wasn’t all bad.  I know there’s no future there, and it’s sad.  You work all your life to enjoy your retirement, when the kids are finally gone…  Well…

He has seven years to retirement.  But I couldn’t imagine spending that much time with him.  Things are just not the same.  We cannot seem to enjoy each other anymore.  I’m sad about that, but that’s the way it is.

I’m doing it again.  This stress, these emotions have me wanting to close myself off from everyone, Master included.  Well, only when he wants to smack and pinch my nipples, lol.  I had a lot of little trouble submitting to that yesterday.

Master pushed me back onto the bed and pinned my arms, admonishing me to “Keep them down”, when I moved them to cover my chest, knowing what was surely to follow.  We struggled like this for a few moments because I was having none of it.  Finally, in an uncharacteristic outburst I cried, “I don’t want you touching me!”

As you can imagine, this did not go over very well, and I soon found my head, face, back, shoulders, and every part of me being slapped.  Master pinned both of my wrists to the bed over my head and began slapping my face in earnest.  Then, he held me down by my throat.  I choked and gasped, but didn’t cry.  Inwardly I was still feeling stubborn; resistant.  I was pissed.  I was not in the mood to be objectified at that moment, and thought, “How insensitive!  Doesn’t he know what I’m going through just now?”

He didn’t continue in this vein for very long, rubbing a sore shoulder briefly before ordering me, “Up.”

I stood up and Master lifted my top, removed my left tit, promptly clamped it, tucked it back inside my bra, picked up his keys and said, “Let’s go.”

I cried, incredulous, “Not like this?!!”

He didn’t respond, and in fact looked stern, like, I’d better not give him any more lip.  I picked up my purse and put a huge frown on my face.  The clamp was pinching, but so far was tolerable.  I just didn’t know for how long though.

We drove in rush hour construction traffic, sat through a few very long traffic lights, and while it seemed to take forever, arrived at a restaurant only a mile or so from our hotel.

He parked, and as he was getting out of the car I quipped, “How about I just stay in here?”   He motioned for me to come, so of course I dutifully followed, by now feeling the clamp much more acutely.  Inwardly, I hoped he wasn’t going to have me switch nipples, and rather worried about that.  I worried too, if this was just the beginning of my punishment, or if maybe he was taking another frustration out on me.  (His executive assistant had failed to book him a room for the night.  We were lucky to get the last room at another hotel a few doors down from where he usually stays.)

I worried some, but at the same time, I wanted whatever he had to dish out.  I was his slave, and this is what happens when I fuck up.  Bring it on.

We sat at the bar and he ordered us drinks, so I knew I wasn’t in huge trouble; a drink is a pretty nice treat for a wayward slave.  Maybe he had some sensitivity after all.  I took a big gulp of my wine.  I wanted to get drunk, lol.  Not so sure that was gonna happen.

He looked at me, still serious.  “Take the clamp off.”  I peeked around to see who was in eyeshot.  Not too many.  I dipped my chest below the level of the bar and fished around with some difficulty, trying to locate the clamp.  It was sort of on sideways.  Finally catching hold of it, I released it, my face to the bar, cursing under my breath as the blood flow painfully returned.  I handed the clamp to Master who set it on the bar for all to see.  (or, at least the bartenders)

“You can stop pouting now too.”  I considered his words.  Was I pouting?  I was dealing with the pain and knowledge I’d done wrong.  Is this considered pouting?  I know I wasn’t happy.  Maybe that’s what he interpreted as pouting.  I took another gulp of wine and tried to relax my face.

We both needed to unwind it seemed, and half-way through our drinks our conversation loosened up.  I shared with him how I had been feeling.  My fears about the relationship; about relationships in general.  Master listened, but never agreed with me.

I told him I didn’t feel the least bit like a slave most of the time, and in fact felt I could Domme him.  That is, until he called my bluff.  “Go ahead, give it your best shot.”

Game, I grinned, pointed to the floor and told him to kneel; albeit not very convincingly.  He just laughed at me and said, “Is that all you’ve got?”  I said, “Well, maybe not you”, meaning, I could be very Domme, just not to him.  I giggled and sipped more wine.  He went on to explain the far-reaches of his mastery over me and I could see a gleam in his eye.  I always get nervous when I see that face.

I knew what he was saying was true.  He is the only one who can make me bend my knee.  For that reason, and that reason alone, he is my Master.  No one else has ever been able to do that consistently.

He went on talking, but my mind was wandering, until I heard him say, “… right here.”  He was pointing to the floor far below where I was comfortably perched on my bar stool.  Instantly, though I hadn’t been completely tuned in, I knew what he’d said.  Again, I quickly scanned the room while begging, “Not here??”

Persistently he pointed where I had pointed him to earlier.  With only the slightest hesitation I slipped from my perch and onto my knees on the floor of the bar at the foot of his bar stool.  His hand went to my hair, and I rested my cheek on his thigh, my eyes closing.  I was content and not the least bit self conscious.

“You know this is where you most want to be.  This is who you are.  Doesn’t this feel right?”  I thought about it.  He persisted, “I asked you a question.  Doesn’t this feel right?”  “Yes.”  I replied quietly.  “What?”  “Yes.”

I remained kneeling long enough to catch more than a few odd glances for sure, until finally, Master allowed me back up on my bar stool.  I cannot believe he can do that.  Thank goodness we were far from home, I thought.

These public displays of subjection always serve to drive home where my place is, and that it’s the best place for me.  For some reason I feel good for having done that.  For having knelt down, showing my submission in a very public way.  I feel proud.  It’s a good kind of proud.  Master cherishes me for it.  And it further binds me to him.  This is a very intimate thing.

I must never forget that Master will do this no matter where we are.  It doesn’t bother him in the least.  It cured my cockiness.  My un-slaveness.  And it settled me.  It was just what I needed.

When we got back to the hotel room, there was much cuddling and comforting of the slave.  There was also much worshiping of the cock.  Very restorative.  Very good for both of us.  Master told me he loved me.  I relish those utterances, because he reserves them for special moments.

As I go through this very trying time, and as I am emotionally in turmoil and upheaval, Master continues to show me who exactly he is to me.  He shows me who I am to him, and my realization is so very healing.

I don’t know why I get myself so turned around.  Why I think slavery is bad for me or that I’m a bad slave.  I only know that Master has never been of that opinion, and he continues to prove me wrong, sometimes in the most poignant ways.  I should expect this from him by now, but he always surprises me.  Maybe I’m just a slow learner.

Technorati Tags: humility, objectification, punishment, mastery, nipple clamps, obedience, resistance

Master took me to work with him for a few days this week.  Can I just say, it’s frikkin’ HOT where Master works?!!!  Mid-nineties here.  Ugh!  I don’t know which is worse, the heat, or the deep-freeze a/c Master HAS to have running in his room (and car) 24/7.  People must think I’m a nut to be wearing my sweater when I get out of his car, but without it, I know I would be a huge block of iced-slave.  Hmph.

The unsettledness continues.  (Is that even a word???)  I find my tears ready to flow, just below the surface, nearly all the time now.  Ugh again.  I hate that.  I don’t know what’s the matter with me.  The closer moving day gets, the more mixed-up, confused feelings I’m having.  None of them very good.

I told Master yesterday that I feel like a total failure.  And in some ways, that’s true.  What else can you call it when such a long marriage hits the skids and fizzles out?  It’s because the general reaction from everyone who knows us is one of disappointment.  And I hate disappointing people.  Everyone thought our marriage was rock-solid.  *Sigh*  For awhile there, I did too.

It just makes me worry a bit about the longevity of ANY relationship.  And more specifically, my relationship with Master.  I’m genuinely afraid of being in another relationship that could very well crash and burn somewhere down the road.  Cuz it sucks pretty bad when it happens.

I know Master doesn’t understand this.  Or, maybe he does, but he doesn’t subscribe to the same belief system as I do regarding these things.  I just think the whole institution of marriage is fucked up.  Granted, this is me on the verge of a divorce talking; but still.  I don’t ever want to get married again.  I don’t think I can sustain another long-term relationship like that.  I don’t think it’s good for me.  Maybe not for anyone.  Unless they happen to have the good fortune of growing and changing together.  I dunno.

Too many people are affected as well by our break-up.  Family, friends, of course the kids.  All of that sucks as well.  I can’t help feeling responsible.  Even though I’m not the only one responsible.  I’m willing to accept my share of the blame for the break-up.  I’m having an affair for chrissakes.  Even if hub doesn’t know it.  Maybe if I had worked harder?

But, well, no.  I was as committed a wife as you’d ever find.  I was a committed wife and mother for all those years.  My goals were all wrapped up in trying to make and keep him happy, and raise happy, healthy kids.  I succeeded in the latter at least.  Keeping him happy?  Not so much.

Although he says now that I made him happy.  I’m telling you, you’d never know it.  He is the mopiest sad-sack, negative whiner I’ve ever met.  And his happy moments were always short-lived.  A tasty dinner made him happy.  But life in general? Not so much.

I think that he felt weighed down by the responsibilities of being married with kids, a mortgage, etc.  I think that made him desperately unhappy.  And no amount of counseling will fix that.  I think moving out and getting divorced is going to wind up being one of the best things that’s happened to him in a long time.  He talks about being lonely being divorced, but hell, he’s lonely now!  He never does anything much outside of working.  He cut way back on the bar scene, out of guilt, no doubt.  Because I rode his ass endlessly about that; about the money spent; about priorities; about growing up and maturing; about finding a better class of friends.

Now he won’t have me riding his ass about anything.  Freedom.  He will like it.

But, disappointing everyone?   Yeah.  He won’t even tell his parents.  He’s afraid to.  I didn’t want to tell my dad; but when I finally did last week?  He wasn’t all that surprised.  *Sigh*

But yeah, I’m never getting married again.  Nope.  No way.

Master?  Well…  I suppose sure, he could make me.  But he’d have to get a divorce first.  And after going through mine with me, I’m not sure he’ll ever want to.  What an exhausting process this all is and has been.

Master will take care of me.  At least, that’s what he says.  Not that I’m doubting him.  It’s just, …

I dunno.  He liked me before.  But now that I’m in the middle of all this shit, I don’t think he’s going to keep on liking me very much.  I don’t like me very much.  I’ve grown sullen, and well, kind of negative.  This isn’t me.  Not normally.  I wish I could stop crying all the frikkin’ time.

Mostly I just don’t want to talk about it.  I hope eventually it all simmers itself out of me.  Like a nice reduction in cooking.  And hopefully, only the good bits are left.

Technorati Tags: divorce, time with Master, relationships

Master came to my house today.  I love it when he comes here.  He’s only been here a handful of times, but it’s special each and every time.  

Technorati Tags: Master’s good care, divorce, blogging