“A man who survived jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge said, ‘I can still see my hands coming off the railing…I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable — except for having just jumped.’”
-Paul Austin, Something for the Pain
I got divorced yesterday. » Read more
One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
Lately I’ve been troubled by the disconnect between the person Ex-Husband thought I was and who Skyspook thinks I am. It doesn’t make sense. » Read more
I was in a relationship for many years where whenever I asked for any assistance, albeit with finances, chores, or emotional support, I was told that I was abusive and a burden and responsible for causing his depression by “being such a bitch.”
I was told that even bringing up the topic of sex or attempting seduction more than once or twice a week was sexual coercion and attempted rape and that I was guilty of repeated habitual sexual assault by baring my breasts unprompted or touching him without invitation to do so – » Read more
Me: Sometimes I feel like I’m way out on a branch, and I feel the wind blow, and at any moment the branch could break, and I’d fall.
Skyspook: Or fly.
“What brought you to Ohio?”
The honest answers always sound crazy. Desperation, loneliness, a sense of impending doom, » Read more
Even though I’ve recently set up this public blog presence of my charmed life and kinky times, I’ve been posting introspection and navel-gazing on predominantly kinky topics on Fetlife for some time. Fetlife (fetish + life, get it?), or Fet/FL as a lot of users call it, is social network for kinky people – essentially Facebook for kinksters, » Read more
I am still lost. A traveler here. But I’ve recognized I have no home where I came from, no place to go back to. This sets my course.
I lost everything I had. I lost very little.
This is not the first time I’ve suffered a great loss, turned my back on people I’ve loved in the name of self-preservation. » Read more
The day after it happens, I go to school with a headache and slivers of memory. There are pieces missing, things I can’t find an explanation for. When I see the smirking faces, I feel blood burning in my brain, my body reacting without any input from my mind. I bolt to the bathroom and throw up. » Read more
9 years old
Though I am running a fever, I go to a dear friend’s sleepover at her insistence. The conversation turns to my developing body. I am the only girl in the fourth grade wearing a bra. The other girls pressure me, mock me, calling me names, chiding me for my boob fat, » Read more
1998: On my own at UMass Amherst for the summer, I make friends with a hippie gentleman in his late 50’s (a jazz violinist) who informs that he has an open marriage. I am 17 at the time, and he tells me that I’m quite a musician, adorable, and wise beyond my years and would have a relationship with me if only I were a year older. » Read more
I’m the hyper, nauseatingly precocious kid in all the snaps, wearing an evening gown at the breakfast table, correcting my mother’s grammar in a Grover t-shirt. A good Catholic girl who still idolizes her father because he works 70 hours a week and never says anything to her.
Those are the years before I understand loneliness as more than an abstraction, » Read more