Another year has come and gone … We still brush against each other along the pages of our home blog. It use to be a regular declaration concerning the depths of which Time hates me. I’ve submitted to time, now. I allow it to Master what remains of our elicit relationship. If Times budget can afford it, then I receive it. If not, there is not.
In the past year Time has issued some brutal lashes to my soul. In December my mentor, Gearjammer, passed away suddenly and peacefully. Prior to, during and as a part of the aftermath of my affair Gear held me, guided me, mentored and protected me. He was my friend, confidante, and guiding light. Gear was the voice of wisdom which acted as an echo through my journey. I spoke with him daily, often several times each day, for years. The initial wound of absence has now turned into a scab upon my life. I pick at it daily, hoping for an eternal scar. Some days it is a slow painful oozing, others it bleeds profusely. On more than one occasion it bubbled up in a fevered infection I feared would snuff out the very will I required to continue.
My best friend in the lifestyle and out, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She is facing a radical mastectomy. Another friend, near and dear, has had her yellow brick road turn into the gnarly mass of discovery which has left her feeling abandoned, hopeless and distraught. I’ve suffered illness year to an extreme which has left me mentally and physically weak.
I’ve waded through challenges, questions and turmoil in the lifestyle without a guiding hand, voice of reassurance or the echo of reason. It has had me questioning my submission, attending slave academy, only to discover a greater depth to the requirements of me, challenged by my position in the local community which accost me with severe drop after each event. I’ve put myself out there, marketing for a master, in a humbling way which conflicts with my character.
I’m tender. My emotions, my spirit, my thoughts, my actions and my soul are all hypersensitive. Sadly, or mayhap not, I know. Yes, I know. One touch, one conversation, one smile from The One, Mr Wonderful, would soothe and heal all the tender spots.
It is time to embark upon the next leg of my collegiate pursuits, one element which Mr. Wonderful and Gear both shared with me. I’ve procrastinated applying, procrastinated enrolling as well as procrastinated in accepting the accolades I’ve earned this far. On graduation day I cried, nearly refusing to walk across the stage to receive my diploma because it was not my accomplishment, it was our accomplishment – I miss them. Without them the tender spot felt like a mortal wound on that day.
Tonight, yes I’m surrounded by wounded flesh, spirit and mental turmoil but I have found solace. I can rub the tender spots knowing that the men who cared for me enough to choose me let a mark upon my life that will forever impact the woman I am and the potential I possess.