The Fog

It’s often hard to explain mental health issues to people who have never been afflicted or interacted with someone afflicted by them. They just don’t have the capacity for understanding, or at least haven’t with the explanations I’d tried to give before now. Lately, since my new diagnosis and this life-changing drug, I’ve found the best way for me to describe my personal journey. 

All my life I’ve been walking in a fog of anxiety and depression. A dense, damp fog that surrounded and clung to me like a thick blanket drenched in cold water. Even though I knew there was more to life than anxiety and depression, I couldn’t see beyond that fog. 

Over the last six years, as meds that worked were introduced, I took a few steps out of the fog, revealing shadows of the life outside. They were dark and blurry, indistinguishable at times but visible none the less. After the worst of the side effects brought on by the introduction of a beast called Lamotrigine, every week when we upped my dose, I took another step out of the fog. 

I still struggled each time we increased it. The thoughts running through my mind did not always sound like me, I had insomnia and nightmares when I did sleep. Still, I took a step out of that fog every time.

A weight lifted off me, giving me the ability to control my emotions and my thoughts that up until then had free reign inside that stifling fog. 

It was liberating.

My bipolar diagnosis was like finding the key puzzle piece that brought the picture of my life together in a way that finally made sense. The medication was a lifeline, a refuge, a trail of bread crumbs leading me to safety.

I can regret the choices made in my darkest hours, I can’t for the life of me regret the moments that led me to this place. The realizations, the freedom and control that have come from it, have been worth it. 

I believe people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I thought he’d be a life time…maybe he was simply here for a reason…to help me find that missing piece. 

I should walk away, but I’ve still sent ridiculously long emails begging for another chance. I betrayed him in an unforgiveable way and should let him go so that he can find someone who deserves the investment and care that he gives…but I can’t seem to. 

Has anyone else out there betrayed someone they loved and then struggled so hard to watch them walk away?

How did you move on?

How did you let go of the line that bound you together? 

Fate or Coincidence

I found him first, and then he found me

Two worlds collided, the reason unseen

He’d call it coincidence, and I’d call fate

Whatever reason we met for our date

He led with his mind and I, with my heart

Yet there was chemistry right from the start

He’d meet every argument with research and fact

I relied on instinct, prone to overreact

He knew what he wanted, and I was unsure

He’s filled with confidence, where I’m insecure

His life, like his home, is uncluttered and clean

For me it’s been complicated, a sight best left unseen

For him, everything sits in its chosen place

Yet my cluttered life I still struggle to face

He gave me everything, and I threw it away

A few bad decisions I regret to this day

He’ll never forgive me, I’m not sure he should

I’d still beg on my knees if I thought that he would

It’s hard to imagine how things could be

If I’d never betrayed him, or if he’d never met me

There’s no going back, as much as I’ve tried

My life feels so empty, I’ve no tears left to cry

Still life goes on, at least so they say

One step, then another, I’ll soon find my way

Doms can be dicks….

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”
Anaïs Nin

It’s time to do a little venting. I’ve been on Fetlife for a while now, and I’ve had the benefit of meeting some really amazing people, I’ve also met my fair share of dicks…..Today was a day for dicks, and yes people, some of you Doms can be dicks.

Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m the only sub-like person out there who doesn’t want to hear or read the word cunt in your first five messages…..maybe I’m crazy for needing to be actually turned on before that word become acceptable….is that really too much to ask?

Am I a dirty slut? You better believe it, but am I a dirty little slut for just anyone? No, that would make me an idiot, and my mama didn’t raise no fool.

I like so many subs out there, I started off on my journey not knowing my worth. However, after just three short months I’ve learned two very important things, that as a sub I am much more desirable that I once believed I was and that I have the right, and the opportunity to be discriminating.

I am offering you a gift. My submission is worth more than you know or can imagine. I am worth every minute that you put into getting to know me, and I am worth any effort that is expelled in gaining my submission. Don’t treat me like I’m not human, unless I ask that of you. Don’t call me a slut until I’m willing to be one with you, and don’t for a second believe that I have to do what you tell me unless I want to.

So, in closing, please don’t demand that I ‘describe my cunt in detail’ before we have actually had a conversation, there is so much more to me than that. Please don’t get pissed off at me for not giving you my first name and my phone number with in our first three messages…..and please keep in mind that if you actually want to see what is underneath my night gown, I expect that you actually try to gain the attention of the mind that is wearing it.


The Local Scene

The past few months have been a real eye opener for me. Since parting ways with my Dom/vanilla bf, I have found myself in a very interesting position. I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to keep the BDSM side of my life, and that I eventually want a real life relationship that will encourage both my vanilla and my sub side. The difficulty then becomes how does one go about finding it…..

I’m sure a bunch of you will have read some of my experiences with other Dom’s. I’ve had my fair share of the ‘online’ Dom, the ‘I’m single-but’ Dom, and the every popular ‘I’m totally dominant, I had a girlfriend who liked me to spank her’ Dom. These guys aren’t for me, and if you’re out there looking for something real, these guys aren’t for you. I was so afraid to step out into the ‘community’. I was petrified that I would be found out, that someone in my every day life would see me and ‘out’ me so to speak. I’ve avoided munches and group events for years thinking that it would disgust the people around me and ruin my career…… And then I just fucking did it.

Three months ago I took a chance and found some local events on Fetlife, the Facebook of the kinky side. I went out to an event called Rascals, and since that day, that moment I stepped through those doors and saw people like me, enjoying what I do with no shame and no guilt, I have been glad that I did.

I went afraid that I would be found out, and realized very quickly that everyone takes their privacy very seriously. You aren’t even allowed to be seen with your phone, they aren’t allowed on the premise. I went afraid that in not knowing anyone I would be shunned and ignored, in fact I was passed from one person to the next and introduced to nearly everyone within moments of arriving.

I’ve made a few faux pas since moving out into this world, some because I didn’t know better, others because I was afraid of being alone, and what that would mean to me and others. In the end though, it’s been a great experience. I’ve met some amazing people and for the first time in a long time I’m becoming more comfortable in my own skin. I’ve even got a chance to write for FetVancouver. Life is starting to come along.

So to all of you too afraid to step out from behind your screens, suck it up buttercup. There is a big ol’ kinky world waiting for you, and yes we are all just as fucked up and scared as you.

The Goddess and her Warrior


There are a few things in my life that will make me hang my head in shame. A few moments where I made the choice to turn away from what I know is right and good and do something I said I never would.

While with my last boyfriend, I made many of those choices. In hind sight it was a clear indication that I should have left, but I was depressed, lonely, and lacking the self respect that would dictate that I deserved a whole lot better.

At this time in my life I was frequenting a site designed to put prospective Dom’s in touch with subs. I was struggling with the interactions here, yes they were very entertaining and very exciting, but they were much more hardcore then I was prepared for at that time in my life.

I was lying, pretending to be single when I was not, and I met someone, a man who said that he was more of a Dominant personality, than a Dom. Everything about him lit me on fire. His picture, his philosophy, the way he talked to me. Everything was crafted and designed to make me feel like ‘a Goddess’, and he my warrior.

It started as emails back and forth, very soft, generic getting to know you things. Who we were, and how we saw the world. He was a father, with two girls he loved more than anything. He asked me to meet him and for a while I made my excuses.

When the urge to meet him was more than I could bear, I told my boyfriend that after he got home from work I would be going out with a girlfriend. True to form he didn’t really care, having plans to play video games with one of his friends.

All that day my heart pounded in my chest. He continued to text me, with each text charming me more than the time before. Every word making me feel like the seductress I had forgotten I could be.

Just before I was supposed to leave my conscience overwhelmed me and I sent him a text saying he shouldn’t meet me. I told him how horrible I felt for lying to him, but he deserved better. In response he called me, pulling from me the situation and for a moment going silent on the other side of the phone.

After a while he told me that he’d been in that situation before, and he understood how I felt, but this connection was too special to ignore. I can still hear his voice in my ear telling me that he HAD to meet me, that he couldn’t live his life not knowing if this connection transcended the written word.

In my weakness I went.

As agreed, we met in the parking lot of a coffee shop, I pulled up beside his truck after nearly turning around more times than I could count. Guilt was flooding through me, but when my eyes met his, softer eyes than I had imagined, I was too consumed with excitement to care.

We talked for what seemed like hours, and it was probably not too far off. He sat in the passenger seat of my car and stared at me in a way that sent shivers to the most sensitive parts of my body.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he told me reaching out to trace the line of my jaw. It’s funny how one person can tell you your beautiful, and it can come out flat, devoid of the passion that gives the words meaning. While another can whisper the words and they strike a cord in you. He hit that cord, repeatedly, and every time without fail I would melt beneath his gaze.

We walked inside for coffee and when we came out he leaned back against his truck. “Come here,” he told me, opening his arms for me to step inside them. When his arms folded around me I was rewarded with a hug that has matched no other my life.

Instead of enveloping me in his arms, he used his outstretched arms, clasped together behind my back, to pin me in place while his squeeze went a long way to illustrate the strength with which he would exert his will over me. It took my breath away and made me feel small, weak beneath his hand, fragile knowing that he could break me, but he wanted me whole.

His hands moved across my body without that gentleness so common in new lovers. Instead he explored my body confidently, possessively, as a man who knows that he has all the power over you, will. It was electric, my first experience feeling that rush that comes with possession.

A dozen times he asked me to follow him home, and a dozen times I said no. In the end I did not go home with him that night, eventually I did, but not that first night.

Instead I went home, and slept in my bed that night dreaming of this Samurai Warrior who promised to love me and make love to me, in ways I had only imagined.

In hind sight I don’t think I would have strayed outside my relationship with anyone else. The pull of this man was so much more than merely sex. He wanted me, all of me in almost all of the ways I was craving.

He wanted to take care of me, to live with me, wake up beside me and love me. He reaffirmed I could be desirable, that I was loveable and that I was worth so much more than I was getting.

I was lost.

Thousand Dollar Daddy : Part 3

If I close my eyes, I can still remember his voice, the way his words were almost loving at first. He sounded affectionate, telling me how I was his, and he would satisfy my needs unlike anyone I had met or would meet again. He wanted me to call him by that name I loved, and I did, loving each and every second of it. He talked about how he would use me, and at first it fed every desire I had.

As our ‘relationship’ progressed, he became frustrated with me. He didn’t like that he couldn’t call me when it pleased him, that I still cared what my boyfriend would think. He demanded that I find a way to house sit more often. Then he told me my body was his, that my boyfriend wasn’t allowed to touch me and if he did, I was to tell my ‘Daddy’ right away.

He wanted me to write him an email every day, that he would get before 11am. Telling him exactly what I had done that night, what I had thought, what I had eaten, what I was thinking. He wanted me to exercise a certain amount each day and give him a record of what I was eating. He demanded videos of me doing….well things I didn’t want to see myself doing.

It didn’t sit right with me, it made me think I didn’t have it in me to be a good sub…..that if I were good I would do all that he asked and say screw the consequences. Only that fiery, stubborn woman my mother raised to not take any shit from anyone raised up her head and said um….NO.

My rebellion started small, I would write really generic ‘journals’ to him, or not exercise and say I had. I would wait ten minutes then twenty to text him back. It’s not surprising that with my change came another change with him.

I quickly moved from his sub to his slut. He was no longer ‘Daddy’, I started to call him Sir with a certain amount of disdain I’m sure he heard. It was no longer him that would fill my belly with his seed. No I was his breeding slut and anyone and everyone he wanted would use me, fill me and leave me in a heap at his feet. He was going to show up at my door one day and I would be kneeling at his side to service anyone he chose.

He’d go into detail about the men he would let use my body. Tell me every little detail about what they would do to me what they would say to me and how they would look at me. He’d expertly wind me up and then make sure by the end of the conversation I knew that he was the alpha and he could treat me any way he wanted. Every time, every time I would get off the phone or close my email feeling dirty, like a piece of garbage.

My excitement faded, our conversations and texts still could send me over the edge but the after glow was less of a glow and more of a growing resentment and disgust.

Towards the end I could tell that he knew this wasn’t working for me. Every conversation was getting just that little bit more aggressive, and every text a little more derogatory, but it took getting my phone bill, for the reality to set in. When I read the balance due I think I had a mini heart attack….over $1000 to have some guy half way across the world talk to me like I was some stupid, worthless piece of trash that was there for a quick fuck and nothing more.

I didn’t feel special, I didn’t feel like it was me he wanted, I felt like any ‘slut’ would do.

To his credit he offered to wire me money to cover part of the cost of the bill, but by that time I was so upset, so disappointed in myself I was too proud to accept his hand out. During our last conversation I heard a baby crying in the back ground…..hurt and angry I confronted him on it. Turns out his wife just had a baby…..and he never worked in North America.

Two words to describe him:

Douche Bag

One word to describe me:


The whole charade was all of 3 months, maybe…..and even with the bad experience I was hooked…..seriously hooked….there was this rush that came from ‘belonging’ to someone. A surge of adrenaline that raced through me a lightening speed when I heard the words, “You’re mine”. I knew I wanted that.

Yes I was still tied down by my boyfriend, but what I wanted was becoming clear……I wanted a man. A man who would be able to take control over more than just his own life, but guide mine as well. I didn’t want to be a piece of meat, I wanted to belong to one man and feel that possessiveness and have it mean something.

And so my search began.


Thousand Dollar Daddy : Part 2

It’s funny how the internet turns even the most shy and introverted people into flirtatious, seemingly outgoing social butterflies. It’s even more interesting how people evolve online. At first this dominant male tested the waters, he gently pulled from me one secret after another, sharing my excitement with obvious delight and telling me he felt the same.

I enjoyed the thought of submission, he was a dominant male who wanted someone he could share that with. I wanted to relinquish control, he wanted to show me how to harness that desire. I was excited by the prospect of impregnation, he wanted nothing more than to fill my belly and mark me as his forever.

After a while I told him my darkest secret, how I have fantasized about calling someone “daddy”, not acting like a child, maybe the young innocent but not a child. I didn’t think that this would turn him on, but he latched onto it unlike I ever expected. All of a sudden I was “his”. He told me I was not to talk to anyone else, that I wouldn’t need to any more. He demanded my phone number, reassuring me when I questioned him that he was in California, and it wouldn’t affect my phone bill, and fool that I was I gave it to him.

It took me all of two messages before the phone number raised the first red flag. One common denominator in the men I’ve met online, is that each and every one of them has underestimated me. When his phone number showed up with an area code I didn’t recognize, it didn’t take me long to look it up. Even if a phone number is unlisted, you can find out where someone is just by looking up their area code, and as I expected…not on this continent, in fact half a world away in Australia.

I wish that I could say I ditched him….I wish I could tell you I realized he was lying to me, but I can’t. In fact when I confronted him and he took the defensive route, I listened to his weak excuses, about how that was his home country and he was here on business. His company pays for it…yadayadayada.

By that time he was like a drug, a secret, dirty, delightful drug that was releasing unknown and previously unfelt endorphins in my body. The fact that he didn’t live near me made if feel safer. So when he continued to message me…..I replied. Having him in my life made it easier to ignore the fact I went to bed alone, it made it less stressful that my partner had absolutely no interest in me, and it made it possible for me to ignore his drug habit…….

Then he started calling me, at first it was ten or twenty minutes during the day, but when I started house sitting, he would call at night, and it was all too easy to forget.