Gagged

I'm trying.
Trying to embrace your choice.
Trying to be excited for your choice.
Trying not to sob over your choice.

Inasmuch, I suggested that we play together.
Play with her.
Together.

Maybe, just maybe
I can let go of the soul-crushing anguish
The debilitating apathy engulfing me.
If I can be a part of your experience.

I want to be excited.
I guess I am a bit.
Excited to wear your collar.
Excited to be your submissive.
Excited to be on display.
Excited to show my devotion.

But, I don't trust my voice.
I almost beg you to put the gag on me.
Your ownership is complete already.
But the collar and gag allow me to hide.

I know that sounds strange.
I'm naked, on display and flogged
And yet,
By not being able to speak,
I feel somehow hidden.

I'm not me in this moment.
I'm a body.
I'm the collar.
I'm the gag.

Thank you for silencing my heartache.

No More

I love music.
All kinds of music.
I have an amazing amount of music in my iTunes library.
So much so that I leave my playlist on random so I can hear all of it.
A song came up last week that I hadn't heard in awhile.

I've always liked Annie Lennox and her work.
This song in particular has always had a poignant quality.
It struck me hard last week.

I'm so torn and distraught these past few years.
Desire
Despair
Desire
So many monsters.

I desire you, my Master.
I despair your desire for others, Master.
I desire your love, Master.

The monsters torment me.
When I look at you, I hear the words in my head.
No more "I love you's"
The language is leaving me
No more "I love you's"
The language is leaving me in silence.

Silence.
I choke on the words, "I love you".
My voice is gone.
I have no words.
No more words to tell you.
To tell you how despondent I am over your choice.
Your choice to share yourself intimately.
Sharing yourself in such a way that makes your touch less special.
Makes me less special.

Oh, so many monsters!
The demons haunt me.
I cannot say the words anymore.
Changes are shifting.
Inside and outside.

Circle

Feeling happy.
Feeling your love
Feeling your attention.
Letting myself swoon in your arms.
Warm
Cozy
Bliss

You whisper sweetly in my ear.
Murmurs of affection.

Then
'She' enters
Enters the room with your whisper.
"I'll be back later for you".

I feel like I got punched in the stomach.
The breathe leaves me.
I stop breathing to try and stop the hurt from spreading.
Too late.
It is throughout my body.
Frozen.
Now shallow breathes.
A forced smile for your benefit.
A smile to try and make my soul believe it too.

I manage to keep the tears in check.
Until you leave.
Leave to go fuck 'her'.
There is a roaring in my ears.
Tears burn my eyes.
I fall into the darkness.

Please!
Please, I beg the darkness
Please let me go.
Please let me leave this place of hell.
Hell couldn't be as bad as how this feels.
An all consuming pain.
Pain that sears through my heart.
That rips my soul apart and stomps it to pieces.

I self medicate with alcohol.
To ease the torture.
Ease my hopelessness
I try to sleep but stare at the ceiling
Trying to relax

Hoping you come home.
Whenever.
Hoping you don't come home.
Ever.

You will.
Eventually.
After you have fucked your way to satisfaction.
Fucked 'her' with joy.
After you both had a good time.
While I sobbed with intolerable pain.

I'll be shut down.
And unwelcoming.
You'll caress me.
And whisper how exciting it was.
And how powerful you feel.

I want to share your joy.
I only feel agony.

You'll pay attention to me for a few days.
Attempt to make me feel loved.
My frozen and crushed heart will thaw and mend a bit.

Then one night, you'll whisper in my ear.
"I'll be back later for you"

And we start the cycle again.
The never-ending circle of joy and pain.

Restless

Antsy

Edgy

All code for you wanting to go fuck someone else

I mean, let's be real

When you say that, that is what you mean

Don't try to kid me

I know the code now

Just say it:

     I want to be with her

    She is more exciting than having you

    You are old news

    You come with kid

    And responsibilities 

    And baggage

    Never mind that you desire

    You desire the same kink as me

    You desire my affection

    While I demand yours 

Restless dick

That's what you are

I'm over it

Go fuck yourself 

Realization

It hits me

It hits me like a ton of bricks

I realize that I've loved a phantom

I loved an ideal

I've loved something that wasn't  real

I have loved you

Let you have every bit of me

More of me that I've ever shared with anyone

My bad

I should've realized

The dream

The hope

The thing that all humans long for

Doesn't actually exist

Love

Love is a dream

You might have it for a moment

But that's all

The love that you have it's a fantasy 

It could never last

I realize now

That what we have is now a business deal

And I need to treat it as such

I need to let go of my childhood teenage fantasies

Of an all consuming love

I realize now it never existed

In The Dark

I just want to be here 

Here in the darkness

The darkness of the night

The darkness so I don't have to see anything 

The darkness keeps me hidden

Darkness covers my despair 

The darkness that keeps me hidden from you

The darkness that lets me hide

    From the sunshine of your smile 

The darkness overwhelms the light that shone from within me

   The darkness that glistens for you

It's easier to be in the dark than to have my light extinguished 

  Repeatedly 

    Over and over and over again

By your false love

Foolishness

I feel foolish right now 

Foolish 

I looked in your eyes I thought I saw love

I'm sure I saw your love

But it was fleeting.

It wasn't for me tonight.

Maybe it was for me for a few moments up for me. 

Ultimately I don't know that it's actually love that you're sharing. 

It might be love that you're sharing with me.

It might just be lust that you're sharing with her.

The bottom line is you've been gone for a week

And you came home tonight only to turn and leave again

To be in her arms not mine. 

I guess I need to wake up

And realize 

That I'm really not that important to you.

Coats - Old and New

I'm here. 

Waiting. 

I wait each week for your return. 

Only to find that you get here and want to leave again. 

Leave to meet 'her’. 

And I feel like dirt. 

Did you chose to not take me to the family event knowing that you would want to meet 'her' afterwards?

Did you leave me here to watch our teenager knowing you didn't plan to come home?

Yes, that was your plan. 

You say you care for me. 

And when you say it, I believe you. 

I'm beginning to wonder if I believe you

  Because I really want to

OR

  Because it's true. 

What is it?

Truth. 

The truth is you don't want me. 

Not really. 

Truth. 

I'm here to care for your home. 

Your child. 

Your comfort. 

Truth. 

I don't keep you warm anymore so you need another one. 

Or maybe I'm just the old coat to warm you when no one else will have you. 

I feel like a old coat tossed aside. 

And feeling pretty chilly myself. 

I don't think I can spare any warmth for you. 

Since I get no true warmth in return. 

Filters

I like to take pictures.
Lots of them (well, I used to but that's another story).
I rarely use filters since I like the natural colors of the world around me.

But I have a lot of communication filters that I've recently created for my Master.
Not because he asked for them, just because they are appearing.
The last few months, the communication between us has been breaking.
Not completely but in a few key places.
And it is spreading.
Like a, well, I don't know what but I find I have more filters each week.

Surprise Filter
As we sit at a table at a restaurant chatting with friends, you reach under the table and place your hand on my leg.
I jump imperceptibly; surprised at your small sign of affection.
I hope that you don't notice my surprise.
Simultaneously, my mind wanders to how you must do the same with your other woman.
I smile and realize that I'm not fully enjoying your love.
I shrink inside without being able to help it.

Gazing Filter
We have always had these sweet loving moments where we simply gazed at each other.
Across the room.
Sitting quietly next to each other.
Waking up and snuggling.
You whisper sweetly to me that you love me.
And then something creeps into me.
I wonder if you say the same thing to your other woman.
My heart skips and shrivels just a bit.
The moment loses some of it's potency.
I've lost something that is sublime.
I hope you don't notice.

Skin Filter
There is nothing I love better than to run my fingers along your curves.
To appreciate the small of your back.
To hear you sigh when I lightly touch your collarbone.
To feel you relax when I stroke your cheek.
To press my naked breasts against your chest.
To feel your powerful legs.
And I know it's sounds crazy but I love feeling the hair on your legs graze mine.
But (isn't it always about the but?),
It only takes a few seconds and the moment of joy is gone.
I think about how 'she' can do the same thing.
How she can appreciate your shape.
How she can enjoy your soft skin.
How she can make you sigh and moan.
I am lost.


Sex Filter
Sigh, to feel your desire for me.
The delightful sting of your pinching fingers.
Your strong grip on my wrists make me writhe and squirm.
It excites us both.
Your hard cock pressing against me.
My breathe coming faster as I become more aroused.
You whisper in my ear something about how you would play with me and 'her'.
My breathe stops.
My heart stops.
My passion is tempered.
I want you.
I want you WITHOUT her in the room (real or imagined).
Even if she isn't there and you don't mention her, she is there in my mind.
I fight the tears.
Unless you spank or pinch me, then they flow freely.
I know you sense that the tears are more than the physical pain.
I know you want to free me from the bonds of my breaking heart.
But I know you do not realize the depth of my despair.
You enter me and I only can think of when you fuck her.
She is in the room.
The elephant in the room of my mind.
There is no letting go for me.
There is no pleasure for me.

Flying Filter
Flying.
Something so incredibly special.
Something that I had heard about but had no idea what it felt like; until you.
The first time this happened, we were both in awe.
It feels like a spiritual experience that I share with you.
Something that reaches beyond a normal human connection.
The most special sharing gift I have every had with anyone.
Flying could have never occurred between us with any barriers.

All barriers (aka filters) became unknown with you.
Now, they are returning.
The barriers that I happily banished.
Return as strong as ever.
With reinforcements being added each day.
I want to tear them down so badly but I cannot.
I must protect myself.
And to protect myself from you is to lose the richest treasure I ever had.

Ceiling

I'm awake.
Staring at the ceiling.

I'm not sure what I hope to see there.
Certainly not an answer to my situation.
The situation that keeps me up at night.

Awake and thinking about how I feel.
Thinking about how to move.
   In any direction.

As my Master says, 'the genie is out of the bottle now'.
Which means, he has no intention of returning to the way things used to be.

The life that was blissful for me.
The love that felt safe.
The arms that felt comforting.
The lips that made me swoon.
The bare skin on skin that sent a thrill through my whole body.

So, no going back.
So, this means moving forward.
I don't know how to do it.
Take a step.
I try and get told I'm not safe.

Wait! What?
What do you mean, I'M not safe?
I'm the one stuffing all my feelings.
I'm the one taking a double dose of anti-depression meds.
I'm the one smiling while my heart breaks.

Swirling, whirling thoughts and emotions.
As I stare at the ceiling.

Gratitude

On this day of thanks, I find myself reflecting upon the things I am thankful for in my life.
As we all do (or should).

I am grateful for:

• My health (I'm still alive after having melanoma 3 years ago).
• A successful business.
• The sunshine.
• The flowers.
• My sisters.
• My friends.
• Still having my parents.
• My smart & lovely daughter.
• My brilliant & handsome husband and Master.

And finally,
The love of my husband and Master.

Ah, there it is.

My husband and Master loves me.
But wants the affection and sexual intimacy of other women.
He says he is not complete without this.
The total and complete bliss that once filled my heart and soul is gone.

I am so in love and would never tell him not to do what makes him happy.
He says it is like when he has other powerful experiences (i.e. public speaking, performing, etc.)
Well, to me, it most certainly is NOT the same.
On a mental level, I get it.
I get that he feels more energized by this experience and has more to give our relationship.

However, he may feel happier and fulfilled but I feel nothing but sadness and emptiness.
I am closed to him.
The happiness he wants to share with me is lost on me.
The walls around my heart that I willingly removed for him have returned.
Stronger and more impenetrable than ever before.

So what am I thankful for on this day of thanks?
I guess am grateful for still having defenses to protect my heart.
But really,
Nothing.

Mourning

Black is the traditional attire of a mourning spouse.
Those most affected by the loss of a loved one often observe a period of grieving.
This can be marked by withdrawal from social events and quiet, respectful behavior.

I am in mourning.
I have lost my love.
I have lost the thing that made me thrill each day.
I have lost the connection with my Master that filled me with overwhelming bliss.

I can no longer have sex with my Master.
It is too painful.
Painful to know that he goes out to fuck some other woman.
Try as I might, I cannot open myself to him.
The connection we had when we made love is gone.
It is no longer love-making.
It is just plain ole fucking.
I find no joy in it.

When he finally decided to act upon his desires to find another woman, I withdrew.
Withdrew from all the social activities I formerly found fun.
I couldn't be around people.
All I wanted to do was cry.
And if I could keep myself from crying, I certainly wasn't engaged in the activity.
My friends want to know what is wrong.
Which would just make me want to cry.
How could I tell my friends that my husband and Master was actively seeking other women?
I can't think of a way to say it without sobbing.
It is enough for me to deal with without having to tell my friends.

I am quiet at work.
I am quiet at conferences.
I teach and speak at conferences frequently.
I can rally to teach the things I know but once the session is over, I'm spent.
My once outgoing and warm personality is gone.
I have nothing to give anyone.
I have nothing inside me to share anymore.

I've taken to wearing black (even black nail polish).
I wish I could cover my face so no one could see my red-rimmed eyes.
It's not a fashion statement.
It is a reflection of the darkness within my heart.

I am in mourning.

From Radical Monogamy to Polyamory (and all the stuff in between)

I was recently referred to as a radical monogamist. 
I wasn't familiar with the terms so I asked what was meant.
This person said that I was fully and passionately in love with my Master/husband and he was the most exciting thing for me. 
True.
But that I also was not opposed to having relationships/sex with others because my Master is the one that truly excites me.
Also true.
Anyone other than my Master was just 'condiments' to my sex life.
All this made sense to me as it was true for me.

However, I wanted to know more about this concept and hence, did research.
What I found was NOT the definition presented to me.

Most of what I found about radical monogamy states:
The Christian teaching about marriage is radical, unconditional monogamy.
OR
Radical monogamy being the rejection of even serial monogamy.

In between, is what is called serial monogamy.
The practice of engaging in a succession of monogamous sexual relationships.

Another in between, would be swinging: 
A non-monogamous behavior in which both singles and partners in a committed relationship engage in sexual activities with others as a recreational or social activity.

And finally, we end up with polyamory:
The practice of, or desire for, intimate relationships where individuals may have more than one partner, with the knowledge and consent of all partners. It has been described as "consensual, ethical and responsible non-monogamy". 

One of the interesting things I read is that the polyamory community, by and large, refuses any definition that describes how poly works. In one sense, that is quite liberating and in another, quite frustrating when you are trying to navigate through your own experience. 

The poly community likes to say they are open an welcoming to everyone. EXCEPT swingers. Many blogs and posts I find state things like:
Swingers tend of focus on compartmentalizing sex and feelings; they often believe that it is not possible to have feelings of attachment to more than one person at the same time.
It is sad really, that those that tell others to be tolerant of their choice of lifestyle are so militantly anti-swinger. What makes you so much better than others that practice their own form of consensual non-monogamy? 

I'm not necessarily a monogamist but I find that my Master/husband is the one person that I have opened every bit of me to have and hold. I find that depth of connection the most exciting thing I have ever experienced. 

Do I want other men (or women)? Maybe. I'm less excited about the people and more excited about how I could be with other men and have it please my Master. Do I want to have a relationship with these people? Sure, I want to at least like this person since my largest erogenous zone is between my ears and connecting on some level is the first step towards any relationship, sexual or otherwise. In the end though, having my Master push my boundaries by performing outside my comfort zone is the most exciting thing I could do for him (and me). 

I find that it is not so black and white.

And who are the polys trying to kid? I mean, if you love someone and it is nonsexual, then you are close friends (I have several male and female friends like this). So, if you are calling yourself poly, then you intend to have sex with another person. Your level of like or love can vary greatly. 

Who gave the poly community exclusivity to caring and friendship?

I found this essay good when it stated:
Polyamorists have an idea in their head of what "swinging" is, and it's not actually what most swinging is (although sometimes it is). Many swingers are mutual friends. Or become such. Or are looking for such. Or prefer such. And friendship is love. And wanting friendship is wanting love. And that's poly.

I guess you could say I've been a (sort of) serial monogamist most of my life. Married, divorced, serious, exclusive relationships (one of which included something between swinging and poly) and finally followed by marriage.

However, I'm NOT excited about my Master going off to fuck some other woman without me just to come home and want to tell me about it while smelling like her.
It doesn't excite me. 
It freezes me. 
It shuts any passion I have for him. 
I shut the door of my heart on him.
No longer does he have access to my deepest emotions.
No longer do we have the depth of connection that we did.

So no, I guess I'm not a radical monogamist nor a polyamorist.
I'm something in the middle.
I find the middle of the road is a hard place to walk.

Broken

Sometimes I feel broken.
Broken by my husband's desire to fuck other women.
Broken by my despair and hopelessness.
Broken by the loss of a love that was blissful.

I'm not actually broken.
It's not me that is broken.
It is my relationship with my Master and husband.

The relationship is broken.
The connection between us is broken.

The connection that was so dear to us both.
This connection is damaged.
I try to act like nothing is wrong.
When I do, my actions feel insincere.
I know he feels the loss as well.
A loss that is tempered by his NRE (New Relationship Energy: another stupid thing the polys have invented to make themselves justify the pain of having their partner go off and get busy with some other person).
He doesn't feel the broken I feel.
He only feels the arms, lips, vagina and ass of some other woman.
It dulls his broken.
Like some kind of medicine.
I guess I'm glad he is spared some of the agony.

It is sharp and painful to me as walking on broken glass.
A knife shoved into my chest each time he mentioned his metamour (another one of those made up poly words).
I feel every moment of pain.
Flinch at the smell of some other woman on his lips.
The knowing that he was fucking her just hours before coming home to conquer me.

My reaction?
I shut down.
I can't stand the pain.
I want it to stop.
I want to jump off the glass and find a way to soothe my tortured heart.

Can we repair the broken?
Can the connection be mended?

I don't know.
I know of no glue to fix it.
No amount of talking seems to fix it.
No amount of affection eases the sorrow.
As long as my Master continues on this path, our home and love is broken.

Happy

Many in the poly world, the poly elitists, say that to be a good partner, you must be happy for your partner to have another.
If you are a rational person, a thinking person, a person not stuck in old-fashioned views, you must be happy for your partner to get busy with another person.
They call it compersion.
The made up word by the polys for the so-called joyful feeling that you have when your spouse had a great time banging someone else.

There is no such word.
Go ahead, look it up.
It doesn't exist in the dictionary.
The polys made it up to make themselves feel better about fucking other people while their spouse is at home miserable.

Sure, I want my husband to be happy.
I like it when he is happy.
I'm delighted when he feels his power.
I'm even more delighted when he feels his power over me.

When he comes home after fucking some other woman (not the word I want to use but I'll be polite), I can't say I feel like doing the happy dance for him.
In fact, I don't even want him to touch me.
I'm about as far from happy as I can be.

I guess I'm not rational.
Or a thinking person.
I must be old-fashioned (although no one I know would say I was that in any way, shape or form).

I'm not happy.
Despite trying to be.
I'm miserable.

Happiness doesn't live here anymore.

Frozen

My heart is frozen.

The barren winterscape of my love is cold.

I am cold.

Cold inside.

So cold that it hurts to breathe.

So I stop.

Breathing.

To breathe means hurt.

Pain.

To breathe means to cry.

Frozen tears fall upon my warm face.

Frozen because I must protect my heart.

From being hurt.

Hurt so wholly.

A heart frozen to keep the blood from pouring out.

Pouring out my anguish.

Frozen to contain the torment.

Frozen to the world.

Frozen to my Master.

Frozen to myself.

No warmth or love to share from my frozen heart.

Keep Still

I’m a fan of classic movies. Gone With The Wind, The Thin Man, Bell Book and Candle, Ball of Fire, and, The Women. The Women from 1939 (don’t waste your time on the 2008 version), for those not familiar with the movie, is based on a Broadway play that features, you guessed it, only women. The plot focuses on Mary Haynes and her cheating husband and her busybody friends. There are an amazing number of one-liners delivered by some incredible actresses: Marjorie Main (better known as MaKettle), Paulette Goddard (known best for her role in Kitty), RosalindRussell (better known as Auntie Mame but my favorite is His Girl Friday) among others.

However, my favorite character is the lead: Norma Shearer. She was an amazing woman in so many ways. The role as Mary Haines feels so true to her. Historians called her "the exemplar of sophisticated 1930s womanhood...exploring love and sex with an honesty that would be considered frank by modern standards". Shearer is celebrated as a feminist pioneer, "the first American film actress to make it chic and acceptable to be single and not a virgin on screen". This almost revolutionary spirit appeals to me. I feel like have the ability to be strong, vibrant and then turn all that on its head to be a Devoted Submissive to my Master. 

I’ve seen this movie many many times but I’ve watched it a lot lately. It doesn’t seem to matter that it is from almost 80 years ago, the message is clear to me. If you love your husband (or partner), you need to keep your mouth shut if they cheat. This holds true for me in a mono/poly relationship too. My Master isn't cheating. He is open and transparent and so very loving. I’m sure many would say that I am living a lie. I don’t think it is that black and white.

Mary’s mother tells her early in the movie, ‘Keep still, my baby. Keep still even though you ache to speak.” This one sentence is the key for me.

Keep still.

Keep still even though my heart breaks.

Keep still even while I choke down the sobs.

Keep still and smile.

Keep still and try to find my way.

Keep still and collaborate joyfully with my Master.

Keep still to have peace and joy again.
Keep still and reach for the light.

I know I will reach it.

I just want it soon.

Choice and the Runaway

This utter feeling of despair is ceaseless.
I don't want it anymore.
Sure, you can say it is my choice.
In fact, I say it to myself.

My choice.
Certainly, it is my choice to stay when I am consumed by anguish.
So, do I stay and continue to feel so wholly despondent?
I am empty.
Nothing to give.
Nothing to do except go through the motions of my life.

The life I adored so completely until...
Until I was poly-bombed (while I despise that word, it suits).
Until the rug of my perfect life was whisked away.
Until everything I cherished became unbearable.

My choice.

To stay:
Continue to be hopelessness and empty.
Until my Master tires of the barren and lifeless body that is my own.
And his.
Tires of the emptiness that is inside me.
Until my Master despises and resents me.

To go:
Where to go?
Someplace else.
Someplace far away.
Someplace to hide.
Someplace to be until the darkness takes the pain away.

I don't know if I have the strength left to decide.

Alone

Polyamory doesn't work.
It doesn't work.

Maybe for some but not for me.
It leaves me feeling empty.
Alone.

Alone when my Master goes on a date to fuck another woman/women.
Alone when my Master falls asleep instead of coming home.
Alone when my Master finally comes home.
Alone when my Master touches me.
Alone when my Master kisses me.
Alone when my Master smells like some other woman.
Alone when my Master fucks me.
Alone when my Master holds me close.
Alone when my Master whispers his love to me.

I am alone and dead inside.

Darkness

There is only darkness now.
But not black enough for me.

Where is there a hole deep enough and dark enough for me to hide?
The sun shines brightly today but not enough to brighten my heart.
My soul is full of darkness.
My body is numb.
There is nothing.
Nothing to fill me with happiness.
Joy has left the building of my life.

I only want to crawl in the dark hole and stay there.
Let the blackness surround the blackness inside me.

There is no hand that can reach me to pull me out of the darkness.
Nothing to show me that the flowers can bloom again.

Flowers I buy for myself to show the beauty, only fade and die.
The same way I that I have died inside.
No beauty.
Only misery.
Only despair.
No joy.
No meaning.
Hopelessness.
Mourning for what is lost.
Mourning for the love that filled me full of bliss.
Mourning for adventures had with my love.
Gone forever.

Nothing to look forward to except more darkness.
Waiting for it to engulf me completely.
So I don't see or feel the darkness anymore.

Choose Your Hard

I read so much.
I read about all the different perspectives about poly relationships.

• Mono/poly
• Poly/poly
• Poly/mono
• How to try harder to make it work
• How poly is an orientation similar to the LGBT community.

Oh, that's the one. That's the one that get my fur up.
Really!?! An orientation?
I call BS.
It doesn't feel like it to me.
It feels the same as saying that alcoholism is a disease.
If you have a disease, you take medication.
Alcoholism is a choice.
Just like poly.

I'm sure someone will get pissed at me for saying it but it's how I feel about it.

I can try harder.
I can read more. And more.
I can try to understand how he can love me and still want to be with other women.
I can try to understand how he can love me while I'm sobbing at his choice.
I can be happy that he is happy while I'm miserable.
I can take medication to make me numb and not care that my husband and Master dates and fucks other women.
I can smile and defend his choice to our daughter (teach her to be tolerant).
I can pretend that I don't care that he comes home smelling like some other woman.
I can get up each morning and get through my day (and it feels like sleepwalking).
But I'm dying inside.
A soul-crushing death.

But of course, the polys would say I'm not trying hard enough.
So I guess I'll try harder.

Numb and Joyless

It doesn't please me to tell you that I'm numb right now.

The anti-anxiety meds keep me from breaking down into a puddle of tears but also rob me of my personality. I'll also admit that I'm drinking more than I usually do. Something I'm not proud of. I'm not getting drunk per se, just having more than I usually do (3/4 glasses of wine instead of 2, 3 cocktails instead of 1/2).

The things I usually find joyful with leave me feeling, well, meh.

• I love growing my business and meeting new people to interact with but I know that I'm not coming across with the genuine enthusiasm that I used to have.
• I love to make music with my friends once a week but I've not attended a rehearsal in a month because I just can't face them. I can't face having to be 'happy' when I feel anything but happy. 
• I love to knit and create new patterns and I haven't picked up the needles in weeks. 
• I love cooking and trying new recipes. Ho hum.
• I love smelling the wind and the scent of the season (whatever it might be). I don't even notice it now.

I've lost my bliss and my joy.

I want it back.

The Edge

I live on the edge but not in a good way.

The edge of:

• tears
• nausea
• nothingness
• sobbing uncontrollably
• laying down and not getting up
• running away 

Misery in Mono/Poly Land

4 years ago, my Master started the slow misery of my world by announcing that he was Poly. He had always felt that way but society made him feel it was bad and so he didn't acknowledge it as a possible way to live.

I felt like my world had been turned upside down. The bliss and adoration of my husband and Master was shattered. I've felt angry, betrayed, extreme sadness and all the other things that you might expect.

I want to support my husband and Master in his choice. Since I'm anything but a prude (I fall somewhere between a swinger and an all-out poly person), I decided I should learn as much as I can about this form of lifestyle. I read and read and read. Books and blogs and websites. I go to poly meetups, support groups, couple and personal counseling.

• I'm angry when I read poly elitists state that I'm old-fashioned (I most certainly am not). Or just state that I'm flat out wrong for feeling this way. Well, guess what, fuck you and your holier-than-thou poly shit. That isn't a real way to convince me by shaming and discounting my feelings. 
• I'm shocked when someone tells me that I should get a divorce because we are doomed.
• I'm sad when I try to figure out my boundaries, only to be told that the small step I try to make is not possible.
• I'm hurt when I feel like my Master gets to have fun while I'm stuck at home with our child.
• I'm hopeless when I feel stuck in a situation that makes me unhappy.

Generally, I'm just miserable. I've been taking anti-anxiety meds for 6 months and still sob. Whenever my Master goes on a date, I take more meds and try to smile at my daughter. When he tells me that he loves me, I feel it but I'm still overwhelming sad.

I don't even know why I'm writing anything down. I guess because I feel so isolated and alone. It's not a fun place to be.

This is not who I am. 

I am not a miserable person.

But I guess I am.