Notes towards “Diary of a Love Slave”

12/23/13

Nothing feels better than letting go, and when I say letting go, I mean completely letting go, letting responsibility bleed from you as effortlessly as losing consciousness when your head hits the pillow. Until I met him, I’d had little opportunity to do that for any length of time.

Going limp requires a high level of security and complete trust in the person holding the reins.  » Read more

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…I don’t understand (dream)

I dreamt last night that I got a phone call notifying me that my ex-husband Seth had died. Apparently it had been defending my older sister, who was being attacked by her ex-girlfriend (those two had a contentious break-up themselves involving a court appearance for a restraining order). In dream space, my sister was in the hospital recovering from her extensive injuries.  » Read more

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Mission Almost Accomplished

Four weeks ’til graduation.

It’s quite odd to be this close to completing what has been the most elaborate and involved order from Skyspook so far, finishing my bachelor’s degree, long delayed by life. By all accounts, I’ve done extremely well. I’m actually earning two bachelor’s degrees (picked up a second major after my first year and ran with it) and will graduate summa cum laude (dirty-sounding Latin for highest honors).  » Read more

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Happy 2nd Birthday, Divorce!

Despite the fact that I spent most of my life vehemently anti-divorce and swore I’d never get one, divorce was the best thing ever when I actually needed one.  It took an impossible situation and turned it into one that was challenging–but not impossible.

You see, I’d stipulated early on in my marriage to Seth that I wouldn’t give up our marriage without a fight —  » Read more

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Clarity

Maybe the secret, after all, is that it’s a great deal more simple than I had believed: His hand on my back, our bodies intertwined in the bed, the familiar smell of his skin, and how his smile effortlessly warms me.

I am heady and high on love for him.

No sin to enjoy that.  » Read more

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Round Two

“Can we go, or are you going to pout all night?” His tone was sharp, and I cringed away from him.

“Am I not allowed to feel bad?” I replied, feeling something shrivel up inside of me.

“If you’re going to pout, you’ll have to stay home,” he restated.

I wasn’t aware that I was pouting.  » Read more

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