Dec 022012
 

I realized my approach to the blog had changed a little when I first suspected J was reading. A month later, I realized things would change again when everything was out in the open.

But I thought it would take me some time to discover how it might affect me and how it would affect what I write here. To my surprise, it hasn’t taken any time at all. This changes things.

Twice today, I sat down to write… but I couldn’t finish.

The first time, I wanted to finish my thoughts about a problem J and I had a few weeks ago. It was something we already talked about and moved past, but I still had some thinking to do and was finally ready to articulate those thoughts. But when I sat down and started writing, it felt as if I was voicing my disappointment to him all over again. In some way, the thought of posting made me feel as if I was being unfair and oddly passive-aggressive.

The second time I sat down to write, I wanted to say something about a more recent situation where I asked him for help. I wanted to write about how he came through for me and how much it meant. Of course, I already told him how much it meant to me, but repeating it here with as much emo-effusive warmth, gratitude, and love as I’m brimming with feels downright pathetic. It’s not like I’m love-starved or anything, but perhaps little things do mean more to me than they should?

This is the third time I’ve sat down to write, and it seems all I’m comfortable writing about is how I’m having trouble writing.

 

  17 Responses to “this changes things”

  1. I get this – I like that H reads my blog – but he is not my submissive. And even though I like it, I really like it around 96% of the time. The rest? Well, sometimes I don’t want him to see. I usually handle those feelings through comments on other people’s blogs or in private chats/e-mails.

    Again, though, I am not his dominant. That would be a different ball game.

    • So actually, I came back to say that you should not let this change things – it’s your blog. And what you feel about it is probably not what he feels. I write all kinds of stuff – to be honest, I think men kind of expect that we think all this anyway. And they don’t always seem to take it as much to heart as we do. Not sure though, don’t know J. Don’t know you. But you should still blog. IMO.

    • @Kitty: “I am not his dominant. That would be a different ball game.”

      Maybe, maybe not. Of course, I can’t step outside of my own perspective to really know, but I think it has far more to do with my overcrowded brain and my propensity to let things out of that brain than being dominant. :) I do know what you mean though — I’ve found that I’m more likely to reveal personal kinds of details in email or in comments on others’ blogs than I am here. Interesting point… I didn’t realize that until you said it.

  2. *makes a face* Yeah, that.

    I really really hope you figure it out because I love your blog (and it’s all about ME!), but I know it’s not easy.

    Of course this post already explains the dilemma to him, so maybe some more talking and reassurance from him will get you over the trepidation.

    Ferns

    • @Ferns: That face you made? Yes. I know it well. It’s the “well fuck me… I didn’t realize this would be a thing for real” face.

      “Of course this post already explains the dilemma to him, so maybe some more talking and reassurance from him will get you over the trepidation.”

      Interesting stuff! You posted somewhere (too lazy to find it) about not wanting to converse with your submissive through your blog (something like that). My feelings are the same. I don’t want to explain dilemmas (like this one) to him before I have the chance to figure them out myself, and sometimes, I don’t want to explain it to him at all. I certainly don’t want to do it via blog.

      Also, interestingly enough (maybe not), part of my concern is over perceptions from what readership I have. Honestly, I FUCKING HATE blogs where I know the writer’s partner reads and the writer seems to passive-aggressively post complaints directed *at* their partner instead of *about* their partner. I don’t want to be that writer. I really really really don’t. It comes off as immature, and while I may be immature, I’m self-aware enough to want to hide it. :)

  3. I thought it might be difficult for you to keep writing the same way. Something has fundamentally changed about your blog: The person whose relationship with you inspires so much of your most personal writing is now reading it, where he wasn’t before.

    I’m not sure what you can do about it. It wouldn’t be fair to ask J to promise not to be offended by something you write, because you can’t control that initial reaction to something. I don’t think it would be fair to ask him to not read your blog, either, just like it would be unrealistic to expect you to pretend he doesn’t read it. The best thing I can think of is to ask J to remember that your writing is about processing your emotions and why you feel a certain way, rather than to air grievances.

    But it isn’t my relationship or my blog. I’m sure you’ll work it out.

    • Thanks, Neo. :) I’m sure you’re right, it’s just going to take a little bit of time to figure out how to deal with the changes and time to get comfortable with them.

      But I’m so impatient! Sometimes I hate time. :)

  4. “But when I sat down and started writing, it felt as if I was voicing my disappointment to him all over again. In some way, the thought of posting made me feel as if I was being unfair and oddly passive-aggressive.”

    That’s a valid concern. Iris DID feel like he was being “punished” when I’d talk about our problems on the blog. That’s a big reason why I try not to discuss those things now, or if I do, I try to make it as neutral as possible.

    “Of course, I already told him how much it meant to me, but repeating it here with as much emo-effusive warmth, gratitude, and love as I’m brimming with feels downright pathetic. It’s not like I’m love-starved or anything, but perhaps little things do mean more to me than they should?”

    But you haven’t told that to your readers. You’re writing for them, not him, right? Shouldn’t they get to see the bright and happy in addition to the sad and emo? Wouldn’t it mean something to him if you told THE ENTIRE WORLD how awesome he is?

    And uh… feeling pathetic for having happy feelings… that’s not really normal. Happy is what you’re *suppose* to be. Why would that be in any way negative?

    • @Femi: “But you haven’t told that to your readers. You’re writing for them, not him, right?”

      In part, yes. When I started, my intent was to write for myself. Of course, that was really naïve, and I’m willing to admit that not only do I enjoy having a readership, but also, that some decisions I make about what to write and how to write are made with readers in mind. But still, I’d like to think that my motivation comes more from pleasing myself than pleasing readers.

      “Shouldn’t they get to see the bright and happy in addition to the sad and emo?”

      Sure, but I think I already do present both the happy/content and the sad/discontent. Personally, I don’t like representing extremes of either emotion when there’s no good reason for them. Most often, the extremes aren’t justified, lasting, or representative of reality. They’re more reaction than they are rational.

      “Wouldn’t it mean something to him if you told THE ENTIRE WORLD how awesome he is?”

      But being effusive over something little (something I should expect) seems like overpraise. He’s not a child, and so the idea of emoting buckets during a warm and fuzzy moment almost feels condescending.

      And if it does mean something to him (or somehow magnifies what it means) when I tell the entire world how awesome he is, isn’t the exact same thing going to happen when I tell the world about something I’m pissed off about or unhappy about? Like you said about Iris, I don’t want J to feel over-punished or double-punished because of what’s here. I guess in the same way, I don’t want to go blowing up his ego with over-praise, either.

      “feeling pathetic for having happy feelings… that’s not really normal.”

      Perhaps. But, extreme happiness over something little, something I should simply expect, that is kinda pathetic. In the same way, extreme sadness when something fairly insignificant happens is pretty pathetic too.

      It’s not that I think feeling extremes is necessarily or always pathetic, but sometimes communicating them can be. It reminds me of Facebook posts by teenagers “OMG, Sam brought me a bottle of water when he came to watch my volleyball practice! He is SOOOO sweet!” Or, “Sam totally forgot that today was the sixth anniversary of my pet hamster’s death. I don’t know if I can be in a relationship with someone so insensitive! RIP, Hammy.”

  5. It’s hard on the boyfriend at times, but I do it anyway. As you said, chances are the problem has already been resolved when we write about it, which is good. But when we write about it, they relive it. And not only do they relive it, but it can hit them even harder because we describe feelings and emotions we may have not voiced when it was actually happening. Something as simple as where we were standing, or what was going on around us at the time can also cause greater impact. It’s not always anal and orgasms, and he’s learned to take it in stride. He knows it’s therapeutic for me, and that it’s part of the package.

    • @Nikki: Thank you for the comment. Everything you said is right on. Writing/reading it is reliving it, and I have to figure out how to negotiate the fact that what helps me process and what makes me feel better might ultimately make him feel worse. I’m not sure how to handle that going forward, but I assume we’ll figure it out.

      Oh that I wish it was all anal and orgasms! Life would be easier that way. :)

  6. My girlfriend and the boys read the blog, but I told all of them upfront that chances were good that they’d end up there. Still, I’m just embarking on a new D/s relationship, and writing about my frustrations seems as if I’ll be pointing out AGAIN that I’m not satisfied. Sir already knows this. We’ve talked about it, and now I’m gonna sit down and discuss it all again but in a public format. However, I use writing and the blog as a processing mechanism. Sometimes I don’t realize stuff until I’m staring at my brain barf all over the computer screen. I give my partners a heads-up if it’s a sensitive matter, and I own my stuff so that it doesn’t come off as “they did this and made me feel…” kind of crap. Ultimately, the blog is about my sexual life and the amazing people I connect with. I can’t give that up. It’s too important to me. D, I love your honest writing and humor, and I say keep it up. Even with your frustrations and disappointments, your feelings for J and your care of him come shining through. xo

    • @Heather: “embarking on a new D/s relationship, and writing about my frustrations seems as if I’ll be pointing out AGAIN that I’m not satisfied.”

      I know exactly what you mean. Of course we’re never satisfied — even in near-perfect, steady relationships, there’s always adjustments to be made and work to be done. Of course, that’s easier said that it is to be comfortable with. :)

      “I own my stuff so that it doesn’t come off as “they did this and made me feel…” kind of crap.”

      Yes, but! We can certainly own our stuff, but they don’t have or don’t want the opportunity to do the sort of mental purging (brain barf) that we seem compelled to want to engage in. For that reason, it’s still one-sided and feels shitty sometimes.

      Thanks for the compliments (I LOVE compliments! They’re my favorite things ever, right up there with avocados and vodka) and for the encouragement. :)

  7. When I started writing my blog, my wife (T) and my then-girlfriend (L) both knew about it. So I never had the experience of their not knowing. But in the year I’ve been writing it, it’s become increasingly complicated as some people I knew learned of the blog, and as I met others as a result of the blog. The universe of people affected by my words grew, as did the extent to which that universe overlaps with my real, bona fide, in person life.

    People can say things like “well, you write it for you – don’t stop,” or “keep doing what you’re doing.” But the truth is, for me at least, that none of that even begins to get at the complexity of knowing that your words about someone will be read by them. Or that your words about something entirely unrelated to someone will be read by them. There’s no “fix” for this – it’s just a fact, a feature of leading a slightly more integrated life. It’s not better or worse; it’s just different. At least for me.

    Anyway – I love your blog, and more than anything, I trust that you and J both will find ways to make this all work for you. If it means I still get to read you, in any form, I’m good. And if not, I’m still good. Make it work for you, whatever you do, and keep us posted as much as it feels good to.

    Good luck!

    • @ N: “When I started writing my blog, my wife (T) and my then-girlfriend (L) both knew about it. So I never had the experience of their not knowing.”

      Can you point to something or some reason that you decided to start writing?

      I don’t think I would have started writing here if I thought J was permanent, nor do I think I would have continued this long if he had known before. (And he knows now, so that’s foreboding, isn’t it?)

      “the truth is, for me at least, that none of that even begins to get at the complexity of knowing that your words about someone will be read by them. Or that your words about something entirely unrelated to someone will be read by them.”

      “Complex” is the right word for it. :) Being read by total strangers is wonderfully exciting, but being read by the person I’m with makes me a little queasy sometimes.

      Thanks for the kind words, N. They’re appreciated. :)

  8. I had a similar problem when I started blogging. My partner (Dom) knew I started the blog — and in fact encouraged me.

    But there’s something off about reading and being able to re-read someone’s words. And He would comment and correct me about somethings. I found myself censoring myself too much — and lost the joy of blogging (which existed for me at the time as a way to work things out in my head)

    Eventually — He decided to stop reading it.

    the experience colored my thoughts around the topic — my M (love of my life) — doesn’t read it – never has — and feels it’s something I need for me — I email him things I am proud of — or want to share — but part of our trust is that he COULD read and has the power to read – but does not.

    interesting thoughts on this.

    sfp

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