Seeking Self: Improvement

This blog, as might be shown by it's title, is supposed to be a way of me learning more about myself, since I have a lot of trouble with not knowing a great deal of myself. This is not just about my kinky side, but also my general self as well. As part of this, Daddy has given me a task to perform: Each week, I'm to complete a prompt of his, to talk about a certain part of myself, and to learn a bit more about myself. This is prompt number one:

How do you wish to better yourself, in the long term?

There are many things about myself that I wish to improve.

I want to become a person who isn't afraid of failure - someone who is willing to try things, even if I'm not entirely sure I'll succeed. The fear of failure paralyses me so much, I want to live a life where I will take risks and not care.

I want to have more emotions. I don't think I want control, per se - I think I already spend too much time controlling my emotions, and I think that control stops me from being able to experience those emotions. I want to be able to experience emotions in more than just a bodily context - I don't want to have to deduce what I'm feeling.

I want to be more present in the world. This one might be connected to the previous, but it's still important. I spent huge amounts of effort trying not to engage with the world, trying to protect myself from the bad things of the world. But I think those efforts are stopping me from enjoying the good things too. I don't get enthusiastic about things, I don't jump into fandoms anymore. I don't have any real obsessions anymore, nothing to engage me that doesn't involve work or my Daddy. I know why I put myself in the position I'm in (because I went through a few years of real suck, and so those behaviours that I always did got ramped up to try and get me back to functional), but I think that those behaviours are now holding me back. I want to be an exceptional person, in some way, but I know that being exceptional require focus, drive, passion. People who don't care about things don't become great people, because you have to push yourself to great heights.

I want to be sure of myself. With the addictions that I've dealt with (and still deal with), I don't think I really trust what I think anymore. I'm constantly vigilant, always questioning whether the things I want are actually what I want, or the addiction talking. I spent so long thinking my addictions were kinda normal, now I don't know what's normal and what's a step back to who I used to be. So far as I know, most people have at least a bedrock of beliefs about who they are, and what they want with their relationships and desires. Me? I have desires that I know are unhealthy and that I'm not allowed to accept. And I don't really have a lot of ideas on replacements for those unhealthy ideas. Daddy keeps telling me that the first step to new relationships is knowing what you're looking for, but I can't look for anything because I don't know that my intentions are ever right. When I keep interrogating my desires, they fall apart, but nothing comes up to replace them. Even the places in my life where I've clearly made good choices, I'm constantly doubting whether I'm really happy with those choices (see: lacking presence). About the only thing I'm certain about is Daddy, and even then, sometimes I feel doubts about my relationship. They don't last - I know I'm happy here. But they keep coming.

I think that's plenty of places for improvement for the moment.

Wonderful Packages...

So, last weekend I finally got a couple of things that I was really, really looking forward to.

A few months ago, I had arranged with a friend of mine in the States that I would send a couple of things her way, and then she would send them off to me. It was an excellent arrangement - except for the fact she sent it to the wrong address. This in itself wouldn't have been such a bad thing - after all, she was sending it to an Apartment, and if there's one thing I know, it's that Australia Post will never leave a parcel at an Apartment, if they can just leave the note in the mail to pick it up at the Parcel pickup.

Alas, Because I'm on the other side of the city, I managed to miss the cut-off time, and it got sent back to my friend. Fortunately, it arrived just as she was coming home for the holidays, and so sent it back to me post haste, and it then arrived just last weekend!

Man, these babies have been through a story enough! I shall be treasuring these for quite some time.

Alright, I've been leading you on long enough. What did I buy? Well...

First purchase was a beautiful Blue Acrylic Paddle from Cane-IAC. I haven't had much of a chance to try it out properly, but it promises to have quite a bite to it! I've been wanting a paddle for such a long time, seeing as I do love being spanked, but Daddy's hand always tires so quickly. Now, Daddy can spank me for much longer, and that'll make me happy (for a bit. Then, I suspect, quite unhappy...).


The second purchase was a nice blue acrylic cane, with three strands. Now, I'm not a fan of canes being used on myself, but with my large collection of blue things, it seemed a shame not to have a nice blue cane to go with everything else. The best part about this toy? The beautiful clacking sound it makes when you hit it on your palm. I think there's a lot of options in how you can use that, and should I ever find a subby play-partner I fully intend to try this one out!

I think it's worth pointing out - I'm so very much a materialist. I do love my toys!

Moments of my Life: The Shoe Ritual

I'm still working on my write-up of last weekend's incredible weekend of awesome, but it's taking a lot more effort (and time), than I have spare. So, to tide people over (and make sure I'm not falling too far behind on schedule!), I offer a little window into my Life with Daddy

There are some ritual which straddle mundane and kinky.

To anyone watching, it's barely anything. A boy helping his boyfriend put on their shoes and socks before we go out. But those people are not really watching.

Because what I'm doing brings me into the Space, reminds me of who I am and who I serve, and every step of the ritual is carefully felt, run through deliberately, although not always with great care. First, taking a pair of socks. Black, always, usually Daddy's own thick, wool socks, the sort he prefers. Alas, sometimes the washing has not always been done, and Daddy's socks are nowhere to be found, so a sacrifice of my own, inferior socks must be given. But Black, always.

I pull them out from each other, ensure that they're the right side out, and then start placing them on my Daddy's feet. bunch them up so the toe of the sock touches the toe of the foot, then pull them upwards across the foot. At the ankle, the important checks are made, to ensure that the sock is correctly aligned - all too often, the heel of the sock is somewhere completely out of left field, and Daddy's comfort must take priority over speed, or punctuality. Once Daddy and I are satisfied that it's on correctly, Pull them up so that they are up over the leg, and not languishing around the ankle.

I am still new to this game, and from time to time my enthusiasm causes me to accidentally hurt my Daddy while I put his socks on, as I am often as rough with him as I am on myself. But I learn, if slowly, and I will soon be trained enough to know how to apply the correct force to the correct situation, to be gentle when I must.

The process is repeated with the other sock, and then we reach the shoes. Daddy has very particular ideas about his shoes - A pair of old dress shoes with no laces, but a buckle on the front. To be honest, they suit Daddy so well, and they're practically a part of his identity now. The shoe's buckle is undone, I pull the shoe apart, while Daddy lifts his foot up. I put the shoe on as best I can, and then Daddy finishes the job, stepping into them, ensuring that the heel isn't folded over and all is comfortable.

I then grab the buckle and strap, and ensure the shoe is tight enough for my Daddy. The shoe is old, and this is not as easy as it may first seem, for the holes in the strap have frayed with use, with bits of fluff everywhere, and the buckle does not fall neatly into place. It's a struggle, but one I win this time, as the buckle finally slides into it's correct place. Repeated again with the other shoe, and my Daddy's dressing is finally complete. The final checks are done, and we are ready to go out.

It's a ritual I do gladly, and with enthusiasm. My Daddy is often so uncomfortable with me serving him, and this is a ritual that he enjoys and is comfortable with, so I seize on the opportunity when it arises. It is a time when my Daddy is fully in my attention, where I can devote my entire mind to serving him. Perhaps I should treat it as a meditation? A simple task where I can reflect on my Service to my Daddy.

Speaking of which, time to wake my Daddy. We go out today, and he'll need to get his shoes on!