​Do you believe you control your future by your choices or do you believe in fate?

This is one of those strange questions my friends and I used to ponder in the middle of the night after drinking way too much. It went hand-in-hand with this one; “If you could go back in time and change any ONE moment in your life what would it be and why?”

While I don’t believe that EVERY choice is controlled by fate & there’s nothing you can do about it; I do believe that the big things, the life changing things, are destined to happen.

Lessons we need to learn, people we need to know. That love you never forgot.

I couldn’t have lived the life I have without believing that there is some cosmic force out there (call it god/goddess/mother earth/bob) with some sort of master plan for me. Cause I’ve got no freaking clue what I’m doing.

I make choices, and change small things; circumstances/timing/location. But if it’s meant to be, I’m sure not going to stop it by stamping my foot & throwing a fit.

Having this belief has given me comfort that everything would work out how it’s supposed to  (eventually) even when little/middle me wants her “happily ever after” RIGHT DAMN NOW!!! Please and Thank you.

As for changing a moment in my life?

No way in Hell! To change any moment/event/decision would change everything that followed. Every experience, every tear, every slammed door & broken heart made me the woman I am today. 

Dear Daddy

I am NOT trying to be manipulative/bitchy/bratty/snotty/snarky. I’m TRYING to tell you honestly and in the simplest words I can find how I feel and what I want and need from you.


I’m sure that you’ll notice I’m writing this instead of talking. That’s because you’ve expressed dislike with my habit for long pauses when I try to find the words I need to say things differently than I used to.


I’ve taken to heart everything you said to me over the last few months. I listen and I’m trying very hard to change myself into the perfect babygirl for you.


I’m sorry that I’m not doing a good enough job

I’m sorry that my broken messed up brain can’t remember what you say so I ask the same questions over and over again

I’m sorry that I bring up things that you said not to
I’m sorry that I’m so frustrating
I’m sorry that my need for reassurance is annoying

I’m sorry that I can’t express myself very well
I’m sorry that I’m so needy and annoying

I’m sorry that my anxiety and my demons are too much

You’re not the only one who gets frustrated and angry and upset with my need for reassurance My need for attention

My need for too much of your time
Even my mom gets sick of me

I’m sorry that I give you long, complicated answers what you want are short, simple ones
I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry
I’m sorry that I’m always apologizing

I’m sorry that when I’ve tried to tell you how I feel it comes out sounding like I’m giving you an ultimatum or that I’m jealous, or like the horrible old me that you would like to forget.

​I must be an emotional masochist. I continually put myself in situations (especially in relationships) that are usually always guaranteed to trigger my issues.


All my life, I’ve been that “weird girl” the “family freak”. Not quite the one in the corner eating her hair, but sometimes not very far off. Before the Internet, my friends lived between two covers. They lived lives that were both fantastic and mundane, had adventures and travelled and were ALWAYS happy to see me. Nowadays, they live online, and we will probably never meet.

In the real world, I was (and still am) a freak. The socially awkward nerd with her nose stuck in a book. I can tell you how and why the Roman Empire fell. Understand and discuss the impact of global events on local politics. But I can’t bring myself to talk to my neighbors.

Compliments embarrass me. I’m a klutz. I don’t believe anyone really gives a damn. So when you ask me what’s wrong, I say “nothing”.


I’ve tried talking to you about all this few times. But you cut me off every time, frustrated with me because I brought up something you don’t want to talk about.

So this time, I wrote it down, hopefully, you will read the whole thing

I AM NOT JEALOUS

I AM NOT BEING GREEDY

I AM NOT TRYING TO BACK YOU INTO A CORNER OR GIVE YOU AN ULTIMATUM OR ACT LIKE THE PERSON YOU HATED


I love you

Perhaps far too much for my own good sometimes. I have loved you from the moment I met you, maybe even before that

I fell in love with the little boy that you want to forget

I fell in love with the techy geek

I fell in love with the man who spent far too long trying to save me from myself and nearly destroyed himself  in the process


YOU are my safe space
Your VOICE silences my demons
Your TOUCH quiets the storm in my head
Your WORDS can either build me up or destroy me
Your ATTENTION  (or lack thereof) will either slay the dragon or make him stronger

You’ve told me over and over again that all you want is the sweet, innocent girl you met almost 20 years ago

She’s right here

But what I need for you to realize is that if you want me to KEEP the babygirl you love so much, I need a few things from you.

  • Please don’t wait hours (or days) to answer texts/calls/messages. Especially after we’ve argued. When I don’t hear from you, I begin to doubt not ONLY the things you’ve said but myself

  • Honesty-please don’t lie to me (or tell me what you think I want to hear). Not even little white lies. Because when I find out, it’s the lie itself that will hurt. Not the ugly truth it was trying to hide

  • Consistency-Just like a routine helps me feel grounded and level, knowing what to expect from my Daddy will help me feel safe. 2+2 needs to = 4. EVERY TIME. It can’t mean something different based on where you are.

  • Communication-When you tell me something and I asked for details (what/where/when)I’m not trying to be difficult or to trap you. I’m asking you to help me keep my anxiety in check by giving me facts to focus on. When you leave me in the dark, with no information, I start to doubt EVERYTHING  you’ve told me

Regardless of what else is going on, we’ve always been able to talk about anything and everything. I understand that there are some things that you don’t want to talk about. Tell me that instead of just shutting me out

  • Punishment– that pain isn’t your thing, but when I break the rules, do something wrong, or don’t do something I’m supposed to, I need you to enforce whatever punishment we’ve agreed on

  • Please don’t take advantage of my memory problems. My father does that quite often. I don’t forget things on purpose. When I ask you something over and over, or I don’t remember something you’ve told me, I’m not trying to be difficult or manipulative. I genuinely do not remember. Or it may be that I’m looking for reassurance that I remember it correctly.

  • Please don’t abuse the trust I have in you. When I was young, my dad was the sun, the moon and the stars to me.  I trusted him ABSOLUTELY.  When he broke that trust, it shattered me. It’s been a VERY long time since I have allowed myself to be vulnerable. About 19 years to be exact.

Being GIVEN my submission is a privilege. A privilege that NO ONE else has ever had. I’ve had it taken, but never given it willingly.

Looking back, I’m realizing that all those times I was pushing the limits, out-of-control, I was kinda trying to manipulate you into being who you’ve become. The man who calls me on my shit, who pushes me, loves me, protects me and punishes me.


I loved the sweet boy you were then. I love the strong man you’ve become even more.

I Almost Lost it All

The post I started on Friday was a VERY different one than what you’re getting right now. That one was all about my wonderfully enlightened, cosmopolitan attitudes about being in a non-monogamous relationship. 

How woefully naive I was. Here; see for yourself.

“Someone made a comment to me the other day about my relationship with Him. “Aren’t you jealous?” they asked, referring to the open nature of our relationship.

“NO. Why would I be?” was my answer. But the question got me thinking. About Love, monogamy, societal pressure and what it is that I really want.

Looking back, our relationship didn’t start out monogamous. That first year, when we were apart, we both slept with other people. Neither of us minded, neither looked at it as cheating. Because we had talked about it BEFORE anything happened.”

There was more to it, but that’s the part that matters. Like I said, woefully naive. And that naiveté nearly blew my relationship to hell in a handbasket.

I really don’t have a problem with an open relationship. To me sex is just a physical activity between two consenting adults. I have no problem if He wanted to have sex with other women. I was totally secure on my pedestal.  Sure that no one could EVER take my place.

And no one really can. But they can make me share. This weekend I met the woman who holds that other piece of His heart. I didn’t know much about her before we came face to face. Name, rank & serial number as it were. And she knew the same about me. What I didn’t realize was the full extent of His feelings for her.

Honestly, I liked her right away. If I had met her somewhere we would get along great. But seeing them together hit me in a way I never could have predicted and didn’t understand when it happened.

When I saw them together, saw Him look at her, touch her, treat her the same way He does me, all my insecurities came rushing in. All my anxieties started screaming in my head

She’s prettier/skinnier/younger.
She’s never hurt Him the way you have.
She can do those things that I can’t
She’s better in bed.
She’s not broken

I was afraid. Afraid that someday He’s going to decide that I’m too much trouble. That my broken body and brain, my anxieties and insecurities would become too much to handle and someday He would walk away for good. Not very logical or very adult of me.

And it wasn’t ADULT me that reacted, it was LITTLE me. In that moment I was the proverbial kid who didn’t want to share their favorite toy. And I threw a temper tantrum. And every demon I have gleefully joined in the chaos.

In letting my emotional demons drive the car, I threw out my hard won serenity, that calm center that being submissive gives me. I yanked back the wheel of control and ran Him over with the car for good measure.

By doing so, I nearly lost everything.  

Maybe it had to happen to get to where we ended up.  Which was me & her sitting down and talking. Figuring out that we both love Him for the same reasons. He is that unshakable foundation, the calm in the eye of a hurricane, absolute unconditional love. He is strength, protection and shelter. He is comfort and safety. He is EVERYTHING a daddy is supposed to be.

‘WE’ walked away with a place to begin. And I walked away with a little more insight into what I need out of this whole relationship.

Two Roads Diverged

When I agreed to completely submit to Him, I think Daddy was more than a little shocked. You see, the face I showed the world was that of a take-no-prisoners, my way or the highway, “New York BITCH” (I’m from a tiny dot on the map in the Midwest, but you get what I’m saying). The path from there to here is a little complicated but I promise, the journey is worth it.

The woman (girl really) that He fell in love with so many years ago was sweet, funny, (a little) snarky & sarcastic, and a strange mix of innocence and experience. 

The woman he came back to a year later was chaos incarnate. Loud, angry, up/down, never staying in one place (or one mood) for more than 5 minutes. I was, in a word, broken.

He spent years trying to save me from myself. And I spent years counting on Him to always be there to do it. No matter how hard (or how many times) I pushed Him away.

Until one day, I pushed too far. When I turned around He was gone.

Suddenly I found myself someplace I had never been before. Having to fend for myself was a completely new experience, and for a while I flailed around like I was drowning. And like the drowning man does, I latched on to the first person who came along.

Unfortunately for both of us, she was drowning too. 

But being needed gave me a purpose. A reason to pull myself out of the water. To get stronger. 

Over the years, He popped in (and out) of my life. Each time He did, all those old feelings came back to life. That spark reignited and nearly burned my relationship to the ground. For the sake of keeping the peace, I pushed Him back out of my life as quickly as I had let Him in.

Eventually I became someone even I didn’t recognize. And didn’t like very much. I was tired of ALWAYS having to be in charge. Of making ALL the decisions (even the little ones). I was constantly stressed out. And the stress was taking its toll. I was sick, and none of my doctors could figure out what was wrong.

The same relationship that had once saved my life was now slowly killing me. So I ended it. But still couldn’t quite let go all the way.

Middle age arrived. And with it, that old longing for someone to take care of ME. To make ME their priority. To take the weight of the world off MY shoulders (or at least to share it’s weight).

One night, out of the blue, she told me that He sent a message. Nothing special, or even very exciting. Just a “hey how are you?” It might have been sent to her, but it was meant for me. As soon as I read it,  I got that feeling, you know the one, it starts as butterflies in your stomach & spreads to…hey, I might be His dirty girl, but I’m a good girl at heart. 

Our conversations picked up right where they had left off. Moving quickly from a tame “hey how you been” to more intimate topics. 

Those conversations caused HUGE problems at home. Because while I considered us to be over and done, she still held a sliver of hope that things could go back to the way they were once upon a time.

As He and I grew closers, she and I grew further apart. Once again I had some hard decisions to make.

But this time things were different. This time I didn’t have to make them alone. He was there every step of the way. Not physically, at least not very often, but mentally, emotionally. He listen without judgement as I struggled to make the choice that was best for ME. And to stay the course once I had. He took the weight off my shoulders every time He opened His arms.

When the day came that she walked out that door for the last time, He moved Heaven and He’ll (and a few places in between) be there when I needed Him. To suspend my reality, give me a soft landing. No pressure,  no expectations. Just His arms around me, and His shoulder to cry on.

The time we had together was never long enough or often enough for either of us. But yet the relationship kept growing. Deeper and more intimate every day. Distance forced us to find other ways to be affectionate. 

I have always had really bad self-esteem. After spending much of my life as a “fat girl” (at one point hitting almost 400lbs) I had spent much of the last few years wearing single-digit sizes. Even getting down as low as 130-something. But I did it in really unhealthy ways. I’ve always tried my best to escape reality. If it was mood or mind-altering, it was for me. He hated that part of me.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. One of the things He asked me to do was send Him sexy pictures. The sight of myself naked (or half naked) embarrassed me. I HATED my body! But I sent the pictures. And every time I did, He told me how beautiful and sexy I was. How much I turned Him on.  Slowly I started to believe him (though I still blush & cover my face every time). Distance made us talk about our wants and needs.

I believed Him when He said He loved me, that he wanted to take care of me. I have ALWAYS  trusted Him. I had started doing some research on my own about D/s relationships and DD/lg in particular.  Thank goddess for the Internet, because I could do it from the relative anonymity of my own bedroom.

One blog led me to another, and another. In each one I saw pieces of myself that I had shoved so far down that I barely recognized them. 

When He finally asked the question, ‘could you give yourself to me and be completely submissive to me in all aspects?’. I had to stop myself from just saying “YES!!!” 

He wasn’t talking about just in the bedroom. Or when I felt like it. What He was asking is if I could do this 24/7 for the rest of our lives. Before I said yes, I needed more information about what this was going to look like. I needed Him to answer a few questions. 

Q: Just how much of my snarky, sarcastic sense of humor would I have to suppress? Was I going to end up biting off my tounge to stop my smart mouth?

A: None. He likes bratty, snarky me. But when bratty turns to bitchy then I’ve crossed the line.

Q: What about the decisions that need to get made when He’s not here to help? Especially the medical ones that could have an impact on our relationship? 

A: All He wants is for me to talk them over with him. To include Him in the decision-making process.

Being submissive isn’t about losing myself. It’s about finding myself. About knowing that no matter what the ‘Anxiety Monster ‘ in my head says to me, or how sick I get, He’s there, with open arms, making sure I don’t fall apart.

Behind the Mask

I am ALWAYS afraid. Afraid of making the wrong choices, of being alone/being left, of the future, of myself.

That strong willed/bitchy/angry/in-charge/always right woman that the world sees? You know, the one who has NO PROBLEM making decisions and then forcing them on everyone else? Yeah, HER. She’s an act. A mask. A character I play. The REAL me? She’s that vulnerable girl you met one summer many years ago.

She’s paralyzed by too many choices, by the fear that she’ll make the wrong one. She flinched when people yell at her. It embarrasses her, so she yells back, trying to cover the fear so you can’t use it against her.


She’s the one who both craves attention and shuns the spotlight be used you just MIGHT see behind the mask she’s worn for so long that even SHE doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

She’s a mess of contradiction and chaos. With her head in the clouds and her feet on a crumbling foundation of lies.

She always puts herself last. Not because she doesn’t think she’s important enough, but because she’s been told so many times to “stop being selfish”.

She’s afraid to ask for help. Not because she thinks you’ll say “No”, but because she doesn’t want to take your attention away from something she’s sure is much more important.