road closed

So I surveyed the wreckage of my accident last week and realized it was just that…

One accident…

A wrong turn…

Other driver was at fault.  The asshole didn’t yield to the “right of way” of his trusting submissive.

If I look back upon the countless hours spent “in transit” on this route towards discovery, my track record is actually pretty strong.

One accident.  One.

And I can hear the doubters out there….”it only takes one accident.  It could have been fatal.”

True, it could have been.  (And note readers, there is much I didn’t share on the blog about the “wreck”.  It was brutal, horrible and scary)

But the key in anything, whether it be a real traffic accident, or the wreckage from a foiled BDSM relationship, is to come out of it wiser.

To come out of the experience having learned something.

I learned that I was out of balance..

And as most you know who follow the blog, I live two completely separate lives.  I have not talked much about my day-to-day life on here, but I think it’s time I let you in.  I need to illustrate why I found myself so out of balance.

My “Vanilla life” is compartmentalized into more boxes than you could load into a PODS unit.  It is all about the “have-t0-do” lists (not “to-do”, but rather “have -to-do”) that make up my existence.  I am a divorced single mother of three kids, so I am the mother, the father, the breadwinner, the nurturer, the teacher, the mentor, the listener, the car-pooler, the maid, the cook, the doctor/nurse, the diaper-changer and the chief reader of all bedtime stories.  In addition to this role, I am the doting daughter of aging parents with health issues, making me: the caregiver, the organizer of doctor’s visits, the scheduler of private duty nursing, the pharmacist, the doctor/nurse, the referee (truly, people are not meant to cohabitate together for this long), the listener, the advisor and the god-forsaken eternal optimist.  In addition to these roles, I work about 50 hours a week in a high-stress, demanding job.  I have lived this way for longer than I care to admit here in black in white, as it would be too painful to see in it writing.

So looking at that, one could see why I would be so drawn to the escape this journey to submissiveness offers me.  Look at my life, I am in charge of EVERY-FUCKING-THING.

With Bond, now known as Ike Tuner, it was easy to get lost in the moment.

Looking back, there were warning signs.

“Road Closed Ahead” Signs.

“Wrong Way” Signs

“Dead End” Signs. 

I chose to ignore them (guess some of that eternal optimist crap seeped in from the Vanilla side).

I was steady in my route, not realizing that I needed to detour from the path in front of me.

I felt as though I was in control.  I was behind the wheel and I could drive myself to the destination I sought, despite the signs in front of me.

And I had an accident.  A horrible accident.

One that shook me to my core.

It made me not want to get behind the wheel ever again.  Not even on a drive to Mayberry.

But I was equally at fault for the accident.  And although I charge him with the damages, I should have avoided his road altogether.

So get out the atlas.  Program the GPS.

I plan to drive again towards my destination…much to the chagrin of a few of my friends.

They think this accident may have “cured” me or made me see the “evil” in my ways.

They were so hopeful that this would have ended the journey for me.


I don’t need to be cured…or fixed

Nor do I need to repent (well honestly, I probably do, but that’s for another post)

And I certainly do not need to be judged by them, or anyone for that matter.

Believe me, I am hard enough on myself.

I am now wiser.  And more apt to see the signs on the road before me.

And it may take me a while to venture off of the mainstream highway, but I know I will.

I am still on a journey.

I think Jim Morrison has it right, “Keep your eyes on the road.  Your hands upon the wheel”

Well said, Jim.  Well said.






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