The Defining Experience of My Adult Life (Real Life Feelings, No Smut.)

 December is such a hard, hard month for me, and mostly I keep it to myself.  I suffer more because if it, but I haven't had too many people in my life with whom I truly felt comfortable being honest about how I feel.  Things that I say that from my point of view are little cries for help seldom translate that way in other ears.  I have always longed for someone who would notice that I was hurting and needed a shoulder to cry on without me having to ask (which feels like weakness) but I have never felt comfortable getting close enough to anyone for them to develop that kind of awareness of me.

So I write.  For the impersonal, faceless strangers of the internet, who checked out this blog for the smut and maybe stuck around when it turned into something more personal.  I write because expressing how I feel really does help, and I post because, recklessly, I get as much out of no one responding as I do from anyone responding, just in a different way.  A lot of the way that I feel right now is due to me being very, very tired after a long work week.  A lot of the way that I feel right now is due to me being very, very tired of isolation but not being totally certain of how to change that.  The second wouldn't bother me so much if not for the first.  And I foolishly read something from when I first started learning about hypnosis that has reminded me of how positive and optimistic I was at that time, before I learned just how easy it was going to be for me to get hurt "playing" with trance.

So.  December.  The month in which my Grandfathers died.  The month in which I fell in love with my husband.  The month in which I first knew in my bones that I was going to be alone forever.  The month when I lost a baby, not realizing that I would never get a chance to have one again.  I have been fired from jobs, given last chances, and humiliated personally, all in December.  I have had the best moments of my life, found new communities, and fully experienced erotic hypnosis for the first time in December.  The up-and-down of it all makes it worse, somehow.  But every year I march on through, because January is always so much better.  But this year is a little different.

January 1st, 2015 will be the 10 year anniversary of my husband's death from a nasty and rare form of brain cancer.  As we were lousy at being married we had been separated for several years by then, but we were still best friends.  December 23rd, 2014 will be the 10th anniversary of the last day I saw him alive, when my Mom and I made the 300 mile trek to where he was being cared for to give him Christmas presents and check in with him.  I didn't know how close he was to death at that time.  I wish I could say that if I had known I would have found a way to stay there and be with him, but the truth is I was terrified every time I saw or spoke with him that that time would be the one in which I finally broke and ran away.  I lived in a different city and had work and a thousand good reasons for why I couldn't drop everything and take care of him, but the strongest of all was that I was too scared to do it.  I have never gotten over feeling guilty about it.  I have never stopped hating myself for being that weak.  Most of the year I remember that I did the best that I could and that I shouldn't judge myself in this way, but in December, especially this December, I can't hold those feelings back.  And it will all be over in two weeks and I can go back to being someone who doesn't really talk about her past.  I can go back to being someone who, when she does talk about it, does so in an almost flippant way so that no one will know just how much I still feel it.

People have often asked me what it is I like most about being hypnotized.  What I like most is this:  when I am deeply entranced my sense and understanding of the past and the future is eradicated, and I am just existing now.  I can't be hurt by what has come before in the now.  I have no fear of what may come later in the now.  I just am.  And I am trusting someone else to have the power to control the now, which leaves me free to completely let go of everything and just exist.  That is why me trancing myself, while entertaining and useful, is ultimately just me passing time until a hypnotist comes along.  I don't want to be in charge of it.  I want to give myself to it.  And it's why, when someone abuses my trust, I am so very very upset.

I went back and read the logs from some of my earliest text-trance experiences.  Back when I was shiny and new and optimistic and had no reason to think that finding someone I could trust would be difficult.  I had had a few negative experiences, but not heart-breaking emotional ones.  The person who would become the heart-breaker was just getting to know me and those are the logs that I read.  I don't remember half of what I am reading ever happening, I don't know if it's because of how long it's been or if I never remembered them.  And what I discovered is that everything he did to me in the end were things that he had already done to a previous subject.  He basically told me the story of how he got in too deep and cut her loose, and I never saw that it was a warning to me of what might happen.  I never thought it would happen to me, and when it did it took me over a year to really recover from it.  Over a year to trust new people enough to give them a chance at messing with my mind.  I am slow to recover from emotional things.

So a double whammy today of reminiscence and nostalgia.  Wanting to talk about it but having no one to talk to has at least resulted in a blog post, so that's something.  For next time, I promise I will write some actual smut to make it up to you all.

Ambushes: Part Two

I am meant to be sleeping, but instead I am writing.  It's a fair trade.

I received a comment on my previous post about being ambushed that made me think happy thoughts and so I thought I would expound upon that topic before bed tonight.

The aforementioned post, which can be found here, (go read it if you want), was written after a particularly frustrating day of everyone I interacted with refusing to accept it when I said no to something.  I was cranky fucking mad, which fact I think was clear to all readers.  There is one mostly non-angry paragraph, however, and that is the one wherein I point out that people who are allowed to ambush me may do so.  Pretty much whenever the whim strikes them.

So, I will expound (starting with the comment that I left in answer to the commenter mentioned above.)

"There is nothing I can think of at the moment hotter than having someone whom I trust take me under, forcefully and commandingly, in such a way that I don't even notice the transition. Like a light switch (because you can flip those things on and off as much as you like.)"  Here is an example:

So I'm chatting with someone who has me figured out really well.  Trust has been built, consent has been given, all it really takes is a little push to take me down, and most of the time when I fall, it's like I'm a weighted fishing lure, spinning through the sea as the lead drags me ever downward.  And this is fun.  This is enjoyable.  This is a great starting place for knocking on the door to my mind and having interesting conversations with whatever happens to be home.  It is one of my favorite sensations, but it is not, technically speaking, what I would describe as "hot."  

Hot is when you're having a conversation about nothing in particular and out of the blue he says "Down. Now." And I go from breathing air to the bottom of the ocean before the sound of his voice has had time to fade.  My mind flip-flops, my body is crushed under the pressure of all that water, and I'm so turned on that I will do practically anything to have my body fucked the way my mind has been.

Hot is when you are listing out all the places you would go if you won the lottery and in between saying "I could go to Prague" and "I could go to any museum I wanted" he says "You could go to sleep." 

Hot is having your control over your body taken completely away, while your mind is busy trying to count.
  
Hot is being brought back up, but still having no control over my hands while they pinch my nipples and rub my clit until I helplessly cum.

Hot is talking with him afterwards and realizing that the hand that I haven't bothered to move yet is  feeling my heart beat from the inside.


So, yes, sometimes being ambushed is a very very good thing.