Friday, October 3, 2008

"To let go what must be let go"

I feel like I should be writing something here.

I've been writing reams and reams for the Sorcerer today, pieces that might have gone here except then I couldn't help adding on personal bits and then I gave them to him because really, they were for him all along.

I'm tired and floaty and my butt only hurts a little and Marko is beside me on the couch giving himself a very thorough tongue bath and I wish the man who owns and canes me were here.

OK, truth be told, I just wish that SOMEONE were here. We could push Marko over. There'd be room for a third.

In some ways, I'm quite happy being home alone with the cats. I'm exhausted, and tomorrow will be disgustingly busy until so late that it will be early, and I will be surrounded by more people than I will at times want to deal with. But I will have a position of responsibility and will not be able to hide myself away. So being alone tonight is exactly what I wanted.

And yet...

There are theoretically a number of options, all of which are in fact not options at all. They are all unavailable or inappropriate, busy or far away. There's my old lover, whom I now classify as a friend with whom I sometimes have sex (he agrees to this designation for the pair of us), who will be back out this way in November. We can celebrate the election outcome with our own fireworks after hours and hours of gentle, thorough, considerate, attentive love-making. The man is brilliant in a vanilla sort of way. But good natural vanilla is in fact quite delicious, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again.

There's my director, my collector, my tormentor, whom I would love to be with but who, I suspect, is not the sort of companion I need on a night like this. On the other hand, should he text me that he was sitting in his car in front of my house, I would immediately realize that he was EXACTLY what I needed on a night like this. On any night. On any day. He has that effect on me. I have suspicions that he hypnotized me the moment he turned up that first time and that's why, since then, my will has not been my own. But I don't care. I'm glad that he wanted to take possession and did.

Could be worse. He doesn't leave me barking like a chicken. (Yes, I know that makes no sense whatsoever, but that's what popped into my head so I let it out. Shows how really really tired I am. I shouldn't be allowed to write when I'm this tired. Because now I'm going to make a fool of myself.)

You know what I'm going to say now, don't you? You know whom I really need...

Is this going to happen every damn night I'm home alone with the cats?

I want to be quiet.
I want to be comfortable.
I want to snuggle up to you on the couch.
You'll be doing cryptic crosswords.
I'll be doing... it doesn't matter.
Maybe nothing.
I'll be swimming in the joy of being next to you,
in the joy of having you in my life.
I'll be admiring the haircut I gave you.
I'll be taking your picture
trying to capture in pixels what is you
as if knowing all along that this idea of
we, of us, was a mirage.

I miss you.
I need to let it go.
I keep thinking I have.
But I haven't.
I can't.

The evil egotist told me that I needed to have notebooks. So I bought them, and took one with me to High Holy Day services. Considering that every year I've been scrawling inspirational passages on any scrap of paper I could get my hands on, it was a remarkably sensible idea.

This year, a passage jumped out at me with accusatory relevance.

T'shuva/Repentance: to look within ourselves, to change what can be changed, to repair what can be repaired, to let go what must be let go.

"To let go what must be let go."

There are two things that I must let go.
  1. my hatred for ex-hubby #2
  2. my love for the philosopher
Well, maybe I don't have to stop loving him so much as let that love ease into something else. And mostly I need to let go of Hope. Let me focus my need for Hope on Barack Obama. And how convenient - Obama can take care of Change as well. I do need to get to work on this change business.

But I have to stop hoping that we will ever go back to being a we. I have to let it go.

I stun myself sometimes. I am thoroughly, properly obsessed with and devoted to the man who now guides me and teaches me and canes me and chokes me, who encourages both my writing and my submission. Yet I can switch in an instant from thoughts of the man who owns and hurts me to thoughts of the man who owned and loved me.

I touched myself last night. I was aroused from touching the canes and the chain, from hiding them away for company and then taking them back out again. I lay there on my bed, thinking of the fiend who has turned my life upside down, and I remembered the things he had done to me, I rolled the memories around in the mouth of my mind, tasting the sweetness and the burning heat, remembering the pain and delighting in the total lack of fear. My body was torn with desire and devotion and memories of serving him, and the twinges of lingering pain as I writhed on the bed brought back memories of his cruelty and aroused me even more. And his words and his deeds and his all-encompassing presence devoured me and I came and I came and I cried and I sobbed...

and as I sobbed, I cried out my love for the philosopher.

As I am crying now.

And if that isn't confusing, I don't know what is.

I'm tired.
I'm exhausted.
I have a long day tomorrow.
I feel like an idiot.
I long for two men and I want different things from each one.
And the fiend will read this and heap scorn on me
and he'll be right.
I need to let go.
It never could have worked
and I'm only hurting myself.
And the philosopher will read this and be sad
and he'll be right.
I need to let go.
It never could have worked
and he can't give me what
I can only hope
he wishes he could.

Time to go to bed.
Time to touch myself.
Time to burn with desire for the man I serve.
Time to cry for the man I can't have.
Time to cry
and eventually
time to let go.

And I will try NOT to think about this other passage I copied from our prayer book:

At this moment is the universe born.
At this moment, all things are possible.


Anonymous said...

Kitten you are far from an idot...

I sure you have heard it said "there is a fine line between love and hate" just as "there is a fine line between pleasure and pain" also "there is a fine line between lovers and friends"...
It's no wonder you're in state of turmoil ... Kitten there are so many lines one worries that the Kitten will go cross eyed...said with "gentle humor"
*tender hugs*

Anonymous said...

*laughing* it's late..make that "I'm sure"

mamacrow said...

FANTASTIC post. Write when you're tired more often ;-)

'Could be worse. He doesn't leave me barking like a chicken.'

LOVED that. that has GOT to be my new catch phrase!

oh, and the fiend heaping scorn on you? He'd better not (even if it is 'for your own good').

Because if he does he'll have ME to answer to.

(er, I'm 5"4... but have practiced Mui Thai, and my sons are well on their way to being black belts. And I wear glasses and are quite good at Padington Bear hard stares over the top of them ala Uncle Bulgaria. So with a good head wind I could be intimidating.

Actually, I do tend to get carried away when it's something I feel pasionate about... I worked (on the clerical side) for the national health service for some years, and became inadvertantly famous for thumping on the table at a meeting and roundly telling off a consultant...)

Anonymous said...

beautiful piece, OG. your writing really is getting better and better all the time. you're focusing more, and that is making the beauty of your feelings and the way you know how to express them so much more apparent.

you've painted a powerful portrait of what you're going through. i can feel that pain. and i know that life will lead you to the right answers. it's okay if grief is part of that.

Elspeth said...

Oh. Just {{hugs}} for I am exhausted and wordless, just now.

{{hugs}} and {{hugs}}

oatmeal girl said...

my dear anonymous from Florida, kitten is already somewhat cross-eyed. and yet the fiend still says i am beautiful. however, he would cane you for sure for your uncorrected typos... :-)

love and hate are two sides of the same emotion. but i only hate ex-hubby #2, and i only love the philosopher. and the problem, mamacrow, with writing when i'm exhausted is that my little (way-too-little) internal censor falls asleep and i reveal myself in all my vulnerability. and while it may make for some lovely writing, it doesn't help any of us in our lives. well, not totally true, i think it inspires the fiend, he feeds off vulnerability, and seems to emit extra flashes of evil after posts that speak of my unrelieved attachment to the man who let me go.

but oh, mamacrow, i do adore your offer of protection, and your whole comment made me laugh. but there is no protection against my demon muse - not just because he is big man and could simply squash you, but because the power of his mind, of his mere presence, would render you powerless. i know this sound weird and impossible, but believe me, there is something about him... i jean really. this stuff i write about him and what he does to my mind even more than to my body, if i read it on some other sub's blog i would say oh come on... get a grip girl, have some self-respect, stop sounding like some fourth-rate fantasy fantasy cum romance cum erotic novel! but he has taken possession of my mind, he toys with my vulnerability, and has sucked out of me of every ounce of sense of self-protection. in short, he is molding me into his creation, and soon there will be nothing left but what he chooses to leave there. except for one thing. he cannot rid me of my love for the philosopher. somethings even the most powerful sorcerer cannot touch.

meg, thank you so much for the compliment. life does its thing, and over that i have only so much control. but i do take credit for my writing (sharing some with my evil tutor) and am so very glad you are pleased with it.

elspeth - i am a big one for hugs. and exhausted hugs are sometimes the best, as we give ourselves into them more. many many thanks. this is an extraordinarily challenging time - exciting and scary and difficult and arousing - and having support from you, from all of you, people who know what i am dealing with, the pain and the love and the fear - is a really big help.

i think we need to have a tea party...

oatmeal girl said...

ps - a question, in hopes that you all receive messages containing responses to your comments.

why did THIS post get so many comments? and why did the post about my last lesson (New Welts) receive no comments at all? are posts speaking of my desperate, stubborn love more likely to get a response? the question about no comments (minus the aside about the philosopher) actually comes from my torturing tutor, but it is one i have wondered about as well. you are welcome to e-mail me privately if you wish - you should be able to do that through my profile page.


Anonymous said...


Sorry about the type O's I try very hard not to make them and I am better than I was..At one time I wouldn't have tried to write I have rare form of dyslexia where I can read anything and everything at every level, however when I try to write the letters and sounds get confused and jumbled in my brain and come out incorrectly... I'm proud to say I finish college with the help of a recorder and have my degree in and maintain over all A dispite the fact many of my Professors didn't allow me to use a recorder... As for a caning my Dom would not allow it..*smiles*
My Beloved Master has been the one to incourage me to comment without help of any kind without him I would have never gotten this far..

I shall try to reframe from commenting more then a sentence..

oatmeal girl said...

oh please forgive me, anon-FL - i was just teasing you because i have such a horrible time with typos myself and was indeed once punished by the fiend for sending him too many messages that had not been appropriately edited for such errors. as a child i used to confuse certain letters, writing them backwards (i.e. "b" and "d"). now, as i get older, i am bedeviled with typos, where my fingers swap the letters in a word. consistently! "the" always always always comes out "teh" and i just cannot train myself out of it.

so please please don't restrict your comments. i would miss them!

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