Part of my last session with Doc focused on the idea of life goals. For this week’s homework, he wanted me to make lists of my life goals/desires. He encouraged me to be detailed (“Use that writing of yours.”) when describing what I want.
In some ways this task is easy. In others it is quite difficult.
I know I want to finish Sticky. I know I want to publish it, sell butt loads of copies (physical and digital), and develop my main character into an entire series of books.
I know I want to live off of my writing. But, until I reach that goal, I want to make a certain money level in my current job.
I know I want to attend at least one new kink event a year, and make sure to stay close and connected with my current (and growing) kinky family.
But here is the rub. It is so much harder to talk about what I want from a life partner, from my romantic relationships.
I know I want to fall in love. I know I want to find someone to partner with and create a life together. In theory, I want marriage and at least one kid. I want a Daddy who will give me all this.
However, I am a slut. A big slut. A super-duper-huge-gleefully-naked-fuck-me-fist-me-forever slut. I am so very kinky. I love fists and cigars and boots and rope. I. Am. A. Slut.
I want my kinky fetish cake and to eat it too. I want to commit to someone, wholly and fully, and yet still have free leave to go play and fuck whomever I want. And I would freely extend this leave to my life partner.
Now ask yourself: do you know anyone like this? Cause, well, I don’t. Can I really be owned if I have so much freedom? Is it even possible to have it all? The life, the kink, the fucking, and the love? Who could be strong enough to be by my side for all of that? Could I even be strong enough to be a partner to this person?
In a previous session, Doc asked me if I was trying to be someone I’m not. I told him about Green Eyes, and how I sometimes feel when watching others play.
He asked me why I thought I needed to be able to watch someone I care for with another? He insightfully pointed out all the things bothering me stemmed from my comparisons of myself to that other person. He encouraged me to have compassion for “the little girl inside me”, the one who feels less than, not good enough.
If I can’t do this now, when I am not partnered, when it is just friends, how can I hope to do it later? How can I hope to be that super strong poly cheerleader? How can I hope to be that uber-me? I am so far away from who I strive towards. Will I ever be her?
It feels more than a little odd, writing about this in the lobby of Shibaricon. How often does one have broad sweeping conversations with themself when they are suppose to be on vacation?
Even so, after I finish this blog, I’ll pull out my journal, look at the bare bones of my lists, and add or do some tweeking.
I’ll wonder about money, my job, my hopeful writing career. I’ll think about my family and friends. I’ll ponder if I want to stay a renter or someday own a home. One kid or more? Stay on the east coast or move some where else.
And, eventually, I’ll crawl back upstairs, collapse into my bed, my mind still dancing around my life, in list form.
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