Hurricanes & Millipedes

I moved to the southeast portion of the US a few weeks ago, and Mother Nature is throwing me a welcome party in the form of Hurricane Florence.  Thanks, I guess?  I’m not on the coast, but looks like I might still be in the line of fire. Anyway, I have got all my hurricane supplies ready and Wolf will be staying with me.

I’m a midwestern girl.  We don’t get hurricanes.  Just tornadoes.

UGH.  A few days ago I had the biggest millipede I’ve ever seen start crawling across my kitchen floor.  I have never seen anything so disgusting. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a millipede before (just centipedes, equally repulsive). I had to scoop it up onto the lid of my kitchen trashcan and toss it outside.  Now the paranoia is real.

There are also two toads living in my outdoor storage closet, lying in wait for the swarm of crickets/spiders to descend from their spots on the ceiling.  Needless to say, I will never ever open that door again.

Moving on…

I have told myself that I will start writing again.. now that I am mostly settled.  Although, it’ll probably be on my other blog –  That’s my preferred pen name.  Speaking of which, if you have FetLife you can find me with the username StormyFoxx and on Twitter as Stormy_Foxx.


The secrets we keep…

Today was strange.  This morning I received notification that someone at my work place took her own life last Friday.  I didn’t know her – she wasn’t on my team.  But, I did walk past her desk every day.  And, I probably walked past her as I was leaving on Friday, excited about my weekend, oblivious to her misery.  But, aren’t we all?

I know how it is to feel that hopeless.  Not so long ago, I was sitting on my bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka, cough syrup, and painkillers… while my cat cried outside the door and my dad and sister blew up my phone.  I felt like a burden to everyone.  Some like to say those who commit suicide are selfish, but I know better.

In my head, I truly believed the world would be better without me.  My parents wouldn’t have to support the daughter that couldn’t get her life together, my sister wouldn’t have to listen to me cry on the phone every time my alcoholic, ex-boyfriend drug me into his cave of misery… my friends, my coworkers, my employer, my classmates, and professors?  They no longer had to watch me slowly tear myself apart.

I was sick.  I needed help, not judgement.

I answered the phone and listened to my dad cry and blame himself.  Then I realized that I couldn’t leave – because as much as I thought their lives would be better, the hole I left would never heal.  I won’t lie – I still feel it some days.  There are afternoons when I sit at my desk in my tiny cubicle and imagine the blood spilling onto the keyboard… or morning’s when I wonder if swerving in front of a semi would be quick and painless.

Those thoughts are fleeting now and are easier to overcome (with the help of past therapy and current medications).  But, I still struggle to open up to the people I love.  I want desperately to spill my inner-most thoughts, but the devil on my shoulder tells me to stop being so needy, stop being an attention whore… to just.. stop.

What kills me the most is the idea of other people feeling the way I did.  We suffer in silence because the stigma is still so prominent.  There was nothing I could do, I know that.  I know that.




I haven’t really mentioned it, but I reached out to Jason a few weeks ago.  I’ve mentioned him a few times here, the only person who has truly broken my heart.  

I did it because I had hoped it would help me release some of the pain I still hold onto, and give me a chance to say things I never got the chance to say, but now I’m not sure.  Maybe I made a mistake… maybe I need to step back.  Maybe he isn’t meant to be a part of my life at all, no matter how small.  I just… don’t know.  

Here we go again..

I did something a little out of the ordinary last night.  I reached out to Jason and though I didn’t expect it, he responded.  I can’t go into much detail now but I want closure and I am going to get it.

I’m just not sure how much I can tell him without overstepping boundaries.  I am certain he is in a relationship at the moment and I absolutely don’t want to mess with that.


I was going to take a break.  Let myself think and heal and cry… but I don’t want to.  I’m angry and I’m frustrated.. and I’m hurt.  And I don’t care if I’m in the wrong for writing any of this, I don’t fucking care anymore.  I’m exhausted and I’m done.

It’s just so simple… he wanted a slave and I’m just a submissive.  Just a submissive… and I tried so fucking hard.

I hate that he didn’t listen when I told him that I wasn’t a slave… I hate that, yet again, I so blindly trusted.  I feel like I was just a project…

You don’t get to tell someone you love them.. but then make it conditional.  That’s not how it works.  I let him into my head, into my life, into this blog…

And I have to take my share of the blame – I cut this off.  It was my idea and for more than a few reasons.

I know this is for the best but there are pieces of me that want to take it all back… that are angry at myself for not trying harder.  The same vicious cycle I got into with Jason is threatening to rear it’s ugly head. But for what?  To be miserable?  I resent myself because I feel like I failed… and I resent him because he let me go when he said he wouldn’t.  You know what I resent the most?  He wasn’t a Dom when I needed him to be one.

But I’m just going to sit here and repeat to myself that its for the best.  It’s for the best… it is.

I’m not really sure what’s going to happen with this blog.  I’ve given up basically.  I still plan to write erotica, but there is no more submissive journey… because there is nothing in the world that is worth feeling like this.