<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:36:14.636-06:00</updated><category term='anger'/><title type='text'>Breaking Glass or Breaking Down</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-9034129331390174572</id><published>2009-07-15T23:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T23:33:03.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gaming Funny</title><content type='html'>&lt;div &gt; I encourage anyone to check out the link to where this comic came from--tons more as good or better there, funny for anyone who likes video games of any kind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;!-- BEGIN_CLIP_CONTENT ID:42783637-1EF1-4F59-B096-FCBD1D8F4F49:0 CLIPMARKS.COM --&gt;&lt;div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="clipmarks' clip-to-blog"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_icon/a17e6393-c900-4c17-aae7-9dc91a4d3cf0/42783637-1EF1-4F59-B096-FCBD1D8F4F49/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;clipped from &lt;a title="http://www.crispygamer.com/comics/experiencepoints/experiencepoints-2009-06-25.aspx" href="http://www.crispygamer.com/comics/experiencepoints/experiencepoints-2009-06-25.aspx" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;www.crispygamer.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.crispygamer.com/comics/experiencepoints/experiencepoints-2009-06-25.aspx"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content7.clipmarks.com/blog_cache/www.crispygamer.com/img/D32E66A1-BB41-4DCF-8638-141A67B61868" alt="Experience Points" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-9034129331390174572?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/9034129331390174572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=9034129331390174572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9034129331390174572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9034129331390174572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2009/07/gaming-funny.html' title='Gaming Funny'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-2836996037025913034</id><published>2009-03-20T22:55:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T00:25:42.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The sunlight through the clouds</title><content type='html'>I haven't updated here for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long while, now that I think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, S and I moved to Seattle, which I'm enjoying rather thoroughly for the most part! Pics soon, but if you believe that, you haven't read my previous promises of pics...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new job, which I mostly like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been harder than usual lately. And BETTER than usual lately. S has been going through some real hard stuff, and I think, has had to do a lot of rethinking about who she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's for her to write about, not me. See, what I want to write about is how much closer it's brought us, and how much stronger I feel I am for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how incredibly lame of me is that, to see these positives in what has been an extraordinarily painful and difficult experience for my wife? I don't know. I only know that through this darkness she has been through, I see enormous light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's because we've walked through it together. And at moments, we've carried each other. Amazingly enough, at least to me, she's let me carry her. This beautiful, strong woman, who has trouble trusting anyone, has allowed me to shield her from the world, and carry her through some of the darkest moments in her life. No one has ever trusted me to do that before. No one I've ever known has actually &lt;em&gt;acted&lt;/em&gt; like I'm as "strong" as they love to say I am. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; have never trusted myself. And I do now. I am more comfortable and confident in who I am, that the woman I want to be lines up more and more each day with the woman I &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been bleak moments for the both of us and for the two of us as a couple. Moments I feared that we couldn't survive. That somehow, the worlds we both came from, the challenges we've both faced would ultimately win, and tear from me the best thing in my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did survive. We have survived. We are surviving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What amazes me, is us doing more than surviving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cuddle. We whisper dreams in the darkness of our bed. We play video games together, and we chase each other (the six steps) through our apartment and knock each other on the bed, giggling and hugging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, now I've rambled, and I'm not sure I've said anything of value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I have been through a dark, dark place. Both of us, together, and in terrible moments, separately. But we got through it because we hung on to one another. We got through it because we both dared to believe that the sun must always follow the night (even in Seattle) and that Spring must always follow even the coldest winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's March now, and the seasons are (slowly) thawing away the chill. Each morning the sun comes out a little earlier. Each day, it stays out a little longer, and the night is held at bay for a few more minutes. It's Seattle, so many days are grey still. But my Beloved and I? We've found we can snuggle cozily together in the grey, and rejoice in the sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're surviving. And I believe we are (dare I say it?) happy, even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, Sara, if you're reading this? I &lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;bear&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt; you. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-2836996037025913034?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/2836996037025913034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=2836996037025913034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/2836996037025913034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/2836996037025913034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-havent-updated-here-for-awhile.html' title='The sunlight through the clouds'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-6526819106933156007</id><published>2008-07-28T11:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T11:51:28.724-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Out and About News</title><content type='html'>I ran across this article today in Out and About News. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://outandaboutnewspaper.com/article.php?id=2803"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Several People Shot at Gay Affirming Church in Tennessee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 have died, 7 are injured, 5 of those critically, as of the most recent updates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the shooter did this because of the Church's "liberal" social stance.  The church has recently put a sign up indicating its openness to the GLBT community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom doesn't understand why I want to be a bit of an activist.  I think she wishes I would just be who I am and not "make a thing" of it.  And that's valid.  I know that part of my desire to be an activist IS simply part of my own identity acceptance--a phase, if you will.  But part of it is this--I don't think we, as GLBT people will be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;able&lt;/span&gt; to live quiet lives of acceptance until a big enough stand is made that we can actually integrate into society.  And right now, that's not the case. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; for people to see me not just as a woman, as Nic, but to see me as a lesbian as well.  I don't want them to be able to ignore that fact, because it makes it that much harder for the next lesbian who comes along.  I think the more that people realize that the people around them are GLBT people, and that GLBT people are just normal people who are around them all the time, the more we will be able to peacefully integrate with the society around us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just my .02.  Not even sure it was clear.  But the way things are now isn't okay with me.  And this news article is just one more symptom of a problem that, in my opinion, can't be ignored.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-6526819106933156007?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/6526819106933156007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=6526819106933156007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/6526819106933156007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/6526819106933156007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/07/out-and-about-news.html' title='Out and About News'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-9013429982954851110</id><published>2008-07-13T16:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T16:43:49.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hee</title><content type='html'>&lt;div &gt; I emailed this to S and told her we should put it on our fridge.  Cause it makes me smile. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;!-- BEGIN_CLIP_CONTENT ID:A7F139CA-5F74-401C-8948-405CAB4400BD:0 CLIPMARKS.COM --&gt;&lt;div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="clipmarks' clip-to-blog"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_icon/071fa625-e5a9-4232-af53-0bad41df6919/A7F139CA-5F74-401C-8948-405CAB4400BD/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;clipped from &lt;a title="http://www.spankingblog.com/2008/07/09/thats-not-quite-cricket/" href="http://www.spankingblog.com/2008/07/09/thats-not-quite-cricket/" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;www.spankingblog.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.spankingblog.com/2008/07/09/thats-not-quite-cricket/"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content9.clipmarks.com/blog_cache/www.spankingblog.com/img/3F405792-3918-4EF2-B2A8-E1968B0E3024" alt="Natalie Dee" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px 6px 6px 4px;"&gt;&lt;table style="font-size: 11px;border-spacing: 0px;padding: 0px;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;width:107px" width="107"&gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/share/A7F139CA-5F74-401C-8948-405CAB4400BD/blog/" title="blog or email this clip"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content6.clipmarks.com/images/c2b-foot.png" border="0" alt="blog it" width="107" height="17" style="border-width:0px;padding:0px;margin:0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-9013429982954851110?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/9013429982954851110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=9013429982954851110' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9013429982954851110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9013429982954851110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/07/hee.html' title='Hee'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-2591137638176263906</id><published>2008-06-29T22:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T22:36:36.828-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Politics</title><content type='html'>&lt;div &gt; I honestly have NO idea who I'll be voting for in November.  It's possible (though I cringe to admit it here), that I'll vote for McCain.  I mean, I have been a conservative most of my life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;However, I found t his video clip incredibly amusing.  I may be conservative, but I recognize that some conservative concepts...are outright ridiculous.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Obama...McCain...Obama...McCain...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He loves me...He loves me not....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have no idea.  Not looking forward to Nov., honestly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;!-- BEGIN_CLIP_CONTENT ID:8796D959-288B-49D9-B7BC-53ECC4B2F210:0 CLIPMARKS.COM --&gt;&lt;div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="clipmarks' clip-to-blog"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_icon/097bbf97-9055-45a7-b32c-a711f198229f/8796D959-288B-49D9-B7BC-53ECC4B2F210/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;clipped from &lt;a title="http://www.imvotingrepublican.com/" href="http://www.imvotingrepublican.com/" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;www.imvotingrepublican.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.imvotingrepublican.com/"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FiQJ9Xp0xxU&amp;hl=en" height="329" width="400" wmode="opaque" quality="high" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-2591137638176263906?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/2591137638176263906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=2591137638176263906' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/2591137638176263906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/2591137638176263906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/06/politics.html' title='Politics'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-9209502954859793802</id><published>2008-06-28T00:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T00:37:50.146-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Getting There</title><content type='html'>So, I've been working on...finding good ways to handle my anger, or really any of my negative emotions. I just tend to get...overwhelmed by them, which results in me crying, and having a hard time breathing, and sometimes throwing things or hurting myself.  Obviously, this is something I've talked with my therapist about quite a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could spend all day talking about why I think it's a problem, and I think it really does have to do with the fact that I simply didn't feel like I was allowed to express any negative emotions when I was younger.  That just wasn't okay.  But I know lots of people were raised in situations like that, and they don't seem to have the difficulty that I do with their emotions.  Bully for them. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, me, Sara, my therapist, have been working on me learning to communicate how I'm feeling, actually articulating what I'm feeling, and what I feel like I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight, I felt like we had a major success. I was upset about something--something little really, but I'm premenstrual, and got really worked up.  And I was starting to cry while I was trying to talk to Sara about it, and she was being all calm (which was helpful), but then I was mad at myself for crying over such a dumb thing, and I told her I needed to go lay down.  She said okay, but followed me in, and now I'm all out crying.  So she held me, and we talked about what I was upset about, and pretty much worked it out.  But I still had all those negative feelings, just...sulkiness, really, leftover anger, stuff like that.  I told Sara I just wanted to sulk and that I just felt upset still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she told me she was going to leave me alone in the bedroom for 15 minutes, with instructions that I wasn't to hurt/damage anything, including myself, but that otherwise, I could do as I liked in the room, journaling, punching the bed, reading, whatever.  And, most importantly (to me at least) she reassured me that she'd be back for me in 15 minutes, that she looked forward to me rejoining her in the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It worked.  I journaled, I (attempted) pullups on our pullup bar.  I stretched.  And by the time she came back I was thoroughly relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would that work every single time?  I don't know.  I know some elements of what made it work, though:&lt;br /&gt;1. She listened to my feelings, and I did my best to articulate them.&lt;br /&gt;2. She said it was okay to feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;3. She didn't assume that b/c I felt upset, it meant she had to change something she was doing to fix it--she simply allowed me to be upset.&lt;br /&gt;4. I was able to communicate what I felt like I wanted/needed (to just have time to be upset), and she let me be upset, let me be alone to sulk/whatever.&lt;br /&gt;5. She reassured me that she wanted me around still.&lt;br /&gt;6. I spent the alone time productively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm feeling pretty good about that at the moment, and like I'm actually improving in this area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I'm feeling so...GOOD, about it.  My feelings were okay.  They were (at the risk of sounding all psychobabbly) validated.  I didn't have to stop being upset, b/c it was inconvenient.  I'm amazed at what that feels like.  And even more amazed to realize that many (or at least some, surely) actually grow up with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-9209502954859793802?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/9209502954859793802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=9209502954859793802' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9209502954859793802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9209502954859793802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-ive-been-working-on.html' title='Getting There'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-5085050974019364859</id><published>2008-06-07T13:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T13:48:08.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing better</title><content type='html'>So, S and I looked at my list of rules today, and discovered that I've only broken one rule this whole week!!  So I've got a punishment coming for that, but I'm feeling all proud that I've only broken one.  It's definitely a huge improvement for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I had to renew my car registration this week, and I was getting close to being late, and S told me that if I didn't get it done on Tuesday, when she got home I'd be going straight over the back of the sofa and getting spanked with the belt.  And wonder of wonders, it was the FIRST thing I did on Tuesday.  Usually, I'd be tempted to push something like that, to see what would happen, to get a really strict punishment.  But I KNEW it would be miserable.  And so, I did what I was supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't seem like a huge thing, really, but I can see that I'm not going around trying to earn spankings anymore.  And I like that.  A lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-5085050974019364859?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/5085050974019364859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=5085050974019364859' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/5085050974019364859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/5085050974019364859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/06/doing-better.html' title='Doing better'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-9106631241098206164</id><published>2008-06-01T13:37:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T13:56:50.587-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up, playing, submission</title><content type='html'>So, on the &lt;a href="http://www.thisthingwedo.com/forum"&gt;TTWD&lt;/a&gt; forum, someone had mentioned being interested in the bamboo sticks S and I got, and since we used them just the other day, I thought they'd make good grist for a blog post. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been spanked with them a couple of times.  They are a great spanking implement imo, stingy, but very controllable, and a sting that I can handle, which is always good.  They haven't been used for any serious punishments really, but they've been used for bratting and for play spankings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, S and I had a very enjoyable "play" session.  She used the bamboo sticks all over my body.  Combined with the flogger, it was just an absolute...bliss of sensations.  Nothing hurt much, but everything stung deliciously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were other things that went on in that session that are too personal to blog about, but...it was a wonderful bonding, and trust building experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In line with that, I feel comfortable sharing on here, that I got a real collar a couple of weeks ago.  S and I do not tend to be...PARTICULARLY D/s.  But...I am most definitely hers, and she is mine.  I definitely submit to her, particularly when it comes to...well, taking care of what's "hers"--neither of us is into degrading, or playing with inferiority, and I feel like in many ways, this submission can go both ways.  The dynamic is difficult for me to explain, but I guess those of you who know us will understand that while I submit to her, we aren't Master/Slave, or even truly Dominant/Submissive.  I DO love my collar though.  It is a cherished reminder, that I'm hers, which to me, equates to being safe, loved, cherished, and taken care of.  Here's a picture of it:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SELvcnxLyxI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OQTaFp6Qkek/s1600-h/collar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 255px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SELvcnxLyxI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OQTaFp6Qkek/s320/collar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206987394184366866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though, clearly, the woman in the pic isn't me--that would be the model from &lt;a href="http://www.sub-shop.com"&gt;Sub-Shop&lt;/a&gt;, where we got the collar from.  It's locking, and Sara has the 1 key to undo it on her keychain.  It's pretty...heavy duty chain, too.  Love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was really unsettled, I'd been dealing with issues relating to abuse, and was just...uncertain, feeling like I was too hard on S, that I was a burden.  She asked what I needed, to quiet that voice, and I told her a spanking.  A moment later, I was over her lap, and she was telling me gently how much she loved me, how she would always take care of me, that she never got tired of that.  And she spanked me, and I swear, it stung at first, and then...I was just...lost in the rhythm of it, being soothed.  It was wonderful, and exactly what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, good stuff, not a lot of testing, but still a fair amt of rule breaking around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-9106631241098206164?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/9106631241098206164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=9106631241098206164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9106631241098206164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9106631241098206164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/06/catching-up-playing-submission.html' title='Catching up, playing, submission'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SELvcnxLyxI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OQTaFp6Qkek/s72-c/collar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-6541040559388108356</id><published>2008-05-25T14:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T14:16:22.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Travelling</title><content type='html'>So, we&amp;#39;re in Florida, visiting a friend of ours. Same friend, in fact, &lt;br&gt;to whom we &amp;quot;came out&amp;quot; about DD a couple months ago.&lt;p&gt;Most notably was me travelling on the plane with a rather sore backside &lt;br&gt;yesterday.  This is because Friday night, we went out with a bunch of &lt;br&gt;Sara&amp;#39;s friends, and I did some serious drinking. Keeping in mind, that &lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;m a lightweight--Sara and I aren&amp;#39;t big drinkers--I had a couple (weak) &lt;br&gt;mixed drinks, and 3 shots of tequila (the most I&amp;#39;ve ever had to drink, &lt;br&gt;and usually at that point I start puking).  Well, bottom line, I was &lt;br&gt;smashed.  And then Sara told me not to have another shot. But then her &lt;br&gt;good friend Pete (also drunk) insisted on buying me another (this could &lt;br&gt;have been payback for us getting his wife a couple shots). And, I mean, &lt;br&gt;I couldn&amp;#39;t say no. So, I was in trouble for taking a 4th shot, when S &lt;br&gt;told me not to.&lt;p&gt;We left, and went to Sonic, and while we were parked there, I decided to &lt;br&gt;see what would happen if I unset the parking break (I, of course, was &lt;br&gt;not in the drivers seat--Sara was).  This caused us to roll back several &lt;br&gt;feet, until Sara figured out what was going on, and reset it.&lt;p&gt;I want to take a moment to reassure my readers that this is NOT normally &lt;br&gt;the form that my bratting takes. It was above and beyong my normal &lt;br&gt;bratting, even when drunk.&lt;p&gt;So, Saturday morning, before we got on a plane, I found myself in that &lt;br&gt;all to familiar position over S&amp;#39; lap.  Hearing the words, &amp;quot;this is going &lt;br&gt;to hurt&amp;quot; before she started smacking away with her hand, then the Belt.  &lt;br&gt;It was a long spanking.  With 15-20 swats to a cheek in each set. I&amp;#39;m &lt;br&gt;pretty sure she intended for me to be sore for the next day or two. And &lt;br&gt;I am.&lt;p&gt;So, lots of spanking/bratting specifics, without a lot of discussion of &lt;br&gt;how I was feeling. I was not a particularly emotional spanking. I messed &lt;br&gt;up. And I knew it. And Sara took me to task for it.&lt;p&gt;My ass hurts, but I love that woman.&lt;br&gt;--&lt;br&gt;Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick&amp;#174;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-6541040559388108356?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/6541040559388108356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=6541040559388108356' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/6541040559388108356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/6541040559388108356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/travelling.html' title='Travelling'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-3790054177826037159</id><published>2008-05-23T15:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T15:22:55.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div &gt; This video about made my day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;!-- BEGIN_CLIP_CONTENT ID:4DA5F32E-3DD6-4BFA-981E-506D9279BA76:0 CLIPMARKS.COM --&gt;&lt;div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="clipmarks' clip-to-blog"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_icon/9770f7b7-9230-4e4a-a5b0-fefca97eaaac/4DA5F32E-3DD6-4BFA-981E-506D9279BA76/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;clipped from &lt;a title="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2889527841583480458" href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2889527841583480458" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;video.google.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2889527841583480458"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=2889527841583480458" height="329" width="400" wmode="opaque" quality="high" align="middle" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="" salign="TL" scale="noScale" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!-- END_CLIP_CONTENT --&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-3790054177826037159?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/3790054177826037159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=3790054177826037159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/3790054177826037159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/3790054177826037159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/nice.html' title='Nice'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-1470798342277216608</id><published>2008-05-22T09:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T19:09:07.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog I Found--Or rather, it found ME</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to let you all know about a new blog I just found, from a blogger who commented on my blog.  constance has 2 blogs actually, &lt;a href="http://www.mydabbleinthemiddleend.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Dabble in the Middle End&lt;/a&gt;, which is her blog, which she shares with her partner (and disciplinarian, at least at times), and &lt;a href="http://www.dabblingindiscipline.blogspot.com/"&gt;Dabbling in Discipline&lt;/a&gt;, which is her punishment book.  Both look quite interesting, and constance was kind enough to give me a shout out on her blog.  Since I liked what I saw over there, thought I'd do the same!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to blog later about the spankings I got last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-1470798342277216608?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/1470798342277216608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=1470798342277216608' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/1470798342277216608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/1470798342277216608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-just-wanted-to-let-you-all-know-about.html' title='New Blog I Found--Or rather, it found ME'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-8527887037506253985</id><published>2008-05-20T12:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T13:07:53.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Struggles</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Warning:  This entry contains some somewhat personal info regarding previous abuse--nothing graphic, but just a heads up, since I know some ppl who read my blog have struggled with these issues themselves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I got spanked the other day.  For not doing my internship work 2 days in a row after I said I would do it.  I got a BRIEF hand warmup, followed by the belt.  UGH.  It hurt a lot worse than it usually does.  I dunno what that's about!  But it was a good spanking (if there is such a thing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S has been a lot stricter lately, which I think I mentioned.  We're also exploring more of the D/s dynamic that exists between us.  Which is interesting, given that I've also been struggling with...I don't know, processing the abuse I went through that ended a little over a year ago.  I mean, I guess it makes sense that I'm still processing it, but it frustrates me, because there are times when I feel completely okay, or I don't think about it at all, and then, for a few days, like this week, I'm having nightmares again, and all I see when I close my eyes is this woman (we'll call her L) standing over me, getting ready to hurt me.  And I feel stupid for not just...being able to be over that, even though I know, at the same time, that I wouldn't expect anyone else to be over it.  And yet, I don't FEEL like I'm being hard on myself when I expect myself to be over it.  It just feels like I'm being dumb. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's related to the fact that...it's fairly recently that I came to actually believe that it WAS abuse.  And so...sometimes I feel like I'm stupid even for being upset about it, so it feels REALLY stupid that I'm upset about it over a year later.  The bottom line is that it included rape and physical assault.  There's no way that's not abuse.  Why do I have to keep convincing myself of that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I swing between that and being so furious that someone I trusted could do that to me, that I just want to scream at the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's not really the point I was trying to make.  I've been really struggling this week, swinging between scared, and angry, and nightmares, and just...MEMORIES, that I want to rip out of my system.  And then, yesterday, S just...well, she got really dominant with me, said there was no room for anyone else, and that she'd remind me of that as much as she needed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't mean there's no room for me to have friends or something (very much NOT the way our house is run), she meant...there's only us.  When we're making love, when we're together...I can focus only on her, and that...if I'm not, she'll GET my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The combination of this, and her complete tenderness, holding me, loving me, has...really helped me get through this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not THROUGH it yet, and, yeah, I'm still frustrated by that.  I'm not sleeping well.  But I'm not feeling like I'm drowning and alone anymore.  And that makes quite a bit of difference.  Even if my ass is paying a bit of the price for it. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;Now playing: &lt;a href="http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/the+cast+of+buffy+the+vampire+slayer/track/i%27ve+got+a+theory+++bunnies+++if+we%27re+together" title="'The Cast Of Buffy The Vampire Slayer - I've Got A Theory / Bunnies / If We're Together' - open on FoxyTunes Planet"&gt;The Cast Of Buffy The Vampire Slayer - I've Got A Theory / Bunnies / If We're Together&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic; font-size: 10px;"&gt;via &lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" href="http://www.foxytunes.com/signatunes/" title="FoxyTunes - Web of music at your fingertips"&gt;FoxyTunes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-8527887037506253985?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/8527887037506253985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=8527887037506253985' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/8527887037506253985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/8527887037506253985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/struggles.html' title='Struggles'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-7644566869408786154</id><published>2008-05-16T14:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T14:25:25.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops</title><content type='html'>&lt;div &gt; I mean, I'm all about the rough play, but, uh, I'm suddenly quite glad that my partner and I aren't into piercing or knife play.  Cause, yikes.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Though, it gives me pause to consider the importance of safe, sane and consensual.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We take certain risks.  Not nearly as much as some, but there ARE risks in what we do.  I think it's important (for me, at least) to remember that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And, again, be grateful that S doesn't use a knife.  Ever.  *shudders* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;!-- BEGIN_CLIP_CONTENT ID:D49EFF29-C975-4E2D-8027-00647F0B9004:0 CLIPMARKS.COM --&gt;&lt;div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="clipmarks' clip-to-blog"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_icon/a3ffc16d-d827-4414-a4e9-e74738404765/D49EFF29-C975-4E2D-8027-00647F0B9004/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;clipped from &lt;a title="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/roughsex_dc" href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/roughsex_dc" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;news.yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/roughsex_dc"&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        OTTAWA (Reuters) - A Canadian man who asked his lover to&lt;br /&gt;carve a heart-shaped symbol on his chest during a rough sex&lt;br /&gt;game almost died when she accidentally pressed too hard and&lt;br /&gt;punctured his heart, a newspaper said on Thursday.                        &lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;/P&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px 6px 6px 4px;"&gt;&lt;table style="font-size: 11px;border-spacing: 0px;padding: 0px;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;width:107px" width="107"&gt;&lt;a href="http://clipmarks.com/share/D49EFF29-C975-4E2D-8027-00647F0B9004/blog/" title="blog or email this clip"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content7.clipmarks.com/images/c2b-foot.png" border="0" alt="blog it" width="107" height="17" style="border-width:0px;padding:0px;margin:0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!-- END_CLIP_CONTENT --&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-7644566869408786154?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/7644566869408786154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=7644566869408786154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/7644566869408786154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/7644566869408786154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/oops.html' title='Oops'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-3613159125150689626</id><published>2008-05-16T11:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T12:05:21.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spanked, again</title><content type='html'>So, I got a spanking last night, for not having done the work for my internship that I was supposed to do yesterday.  S has gotten pretty strict lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not complaining about that.  I mean, maybe I should, because, my butt's a little sore today.  But, really, I think I've finally gotten to that point where I'm not breaking rules just to see what she'll do.  Mostly, I know what she'll do--spank my butt, and if I break the rule again, spank my butt a lot harder/longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've even cried a couple times most recently when she spanked me, and I pretty much NEVER cry.  And I can't even explain what goes on in my head that makes me cry, I just know it happens most often when she isn't speaking to me like she's angry, but just...really lovingly, and like she just wants to help me be better.  It touches something inside of me, that I can't describe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'll be able to stay in that place, where I don't have to push just to push.  I sorta doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's the first time I've ever gotten here.  And I like it.  I feel safe.  I feel like...I can actually start working on what I need to work on, instead of just...focusing on the discipline, and whether or not she's going to give it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bamboo stick thing stings.  I don't like it.  And her HAND hurts my butt...a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I feel pretty good today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-3613159125150689626?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/3613159125150689626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=3613159125150689626' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/3613159125150689626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/3613159125150689626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/spanked-again.html' title='Spanked, again'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-8132213330288764234</id><published>2008-05-15T11:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T12:01:09.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Journaling</title><content type='html'>Well, I got my first spanking for not journaling yesterday.  And it sucked.  Apparently, S takes that journaling thing seriously.  It was a spanking with her hand, and this small bamboo stick we picked up a couple weeks ago, which stings like the dickens, and apparently leaves little lines on my butt that S thinks are swell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We want a cane, too, though I'm of the opinion that that should be more of a "play" toy than...a serious punishment implement.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See?  I told you guys I don't have anything interesting to say.  I got spanked.  It hurt. ;)  Now I'm just being snotty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without being too specific, the spanking occurred with me very much bent over.  Which made it hurt WAY more.  And something about that position really contributes to me...I dunno, feeling like I'm.."presenting" myself for punishment.  Which is good, but hard.  Because it helps me keep my head in the right place, and feel like I'm participating.  Which is (again) hard, but also makes me feel like we're a team. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm rambling.  But I guess if there's any place that's okay, it's here. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-8132213330288764234?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/8132213330288764234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=8132213330288764234' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/8132213330288764234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/8132213330288764234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/05/journaling.html' title='Journaling'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Kw3P9qAL0jA/SC3ddGhza_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/X4dir0xjKA8/S220/getupthenerve.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-9195617650536378332</id><published>2008-03-18T18:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T12:16:15.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Public</title><content type='html'>Well, okay, not public, exactly, but it sorta felt that way to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I shared WIITWD with a close friend of ours, K, who will be living with us in a couple of months.  K is pretty much like family to us, and as I mentioned on TTWD forum, I already have issues with feeling like I'm hiding this part of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, the post of another person on TTWD is kinda my reason for blogging today. She was talking about how she has spent so long feeling like this is just...wrong. And I identify with that so strongly. I have a personality type that tends to view things in black and white, anyway, particularly things that can have a morality label attached to them.  Things are either Good or Bad. Right or Wrong.  And for years, I've believed that this desire (need, even) that I have for loving adult discipline in my life is WRONG. Sinful, even. A temptation I must not give in to, yet I found myself being drawn to it, again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really think that any more. In the last year of my life, my values, my faith have been irrevocably shaken.  A year ago I would have called Hillary Clinton the anti-christ, and now I'm considering voting for her. Nothing that I knew to be true then seems to have endured, and my years of theological training feel, at moments, like so much wasted time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think this need I have is wrong anymore. I don't think it's sinful, or that I'll go to hell for practicing it. Frankly, it makes me a better person.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm more likely to struggle with these days is thinking that it's unhealthy, unfair to S. Afterall, she "signed on" to a mature adult relationship.  And what I've discovered the last few months is that I can throw a tantrum to put a 4 year old to shame, I can pout better than my nephew, and if someone doesn't whip my tail for it, it's very likely I will NOT take my meds like I'm supposed to or do my homework. I seldom feel like it's wrong, anymore, but frequently feel like it's something I shouldn't need, that a mature, healthy adult wouldn't need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And telling someone else about it, well that stirs all those feelings. I found myself wondering what she was thinking, if she was thinking I WASN'T a mature, healthy adult, that I shouldn't be in a relationship at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was writing this because I'd come to some conclusion on it, but I'm not. I'm just pondering, using our recent disclosure as an impetus to explore what my feelings are on this, and how they've changed. So...yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-9195617650536378332?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/9195617650536378332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=9195617650536378332' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9195617650536378332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/9195617650536378332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/03/going-public.html' title='Going Public'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-1925530064810671418</id><published>2008-02-11T17:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T17:22:01.351-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Corner</title><content type='html'>I know, the corner seems like a lame punishment.  But let me assure you it's not.  And I'm not talking about hours in the corner, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to spend 30 minutes in the corner.  I'm mostly just lucky that S let me sit down (though, in fairness, I'd had a pretty good spanking before that, so maybe it wasn't entirely mercy on her part...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The corner is an exercise in...obedience and patience for me.  There's always a time, within the first minute or two, that I have to fight the urge to scream, and throw things, and insist that I am NOT going to stay in the corner, that I CAN'T.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then that passes, and the thinking begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S uses the corner mainly to deal with me when I've been being a brat.  And I hate that.  Because the brat (as S calls her) wants attention (and lots of it) preferably a nice little handspanking, and lots of cuddles, and firm talking.  The corner is the opposite of that (though a chagrined less-bratty girl always gets cuddled after corner time).  It's silent non-attention for a period of time, and that's hard for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it effective (shhh, don't tell!).  Because in the corner, after a few minutes, a sort of calm settles over me.  The things I was being bratty or pouty about seem to fade a bit, back into their normal perspective.  I realize that S, in fact, is not going to give up on me, nor is she going to get bored with keeping me firmly in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because that is what the brat is really scared of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, the corner.  Hate it, but...well, I guess I can see SOME good in it...maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-1925530064810671418?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/1925530064810671418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=1925530064810671418' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/1925530064810671418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/1925530064810671418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2008/02/corner.html' title='The Corner'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-7772583900775999438</id><published>2007-12-11T17:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T17:43:13.455-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bratting</title><content type='html'>I'm wanting to ponder...why exactly I brat.  And I DO brat, and sometimes, I feel like I should be given a little slack for it, and sometimes, I really don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two things I see coming into play when I brat.  One of them, is my own fears and insecurities.  Does S really have me in line?  Is she really committed to whatever it takes to keep me well-behaved?  This is unfair to her, I know, but in fairness to ME, it's borne of my own insecurities.  I'm worried that she doesn't actually care enough to do it.  That she doesn't care if my behavior slides, or if I'm mouthy to her about it.  That she doesn't care enough to maintain the boundaries we've set together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand (and THIS is the part it's really hard for me to talk about), it's also a means of simply getting what I need.  I don't find it at all easy to ask for a spanking, even if I know I need one, b/c I'm anxious, b/c I had a bad day, whatever.  I get out of sorts.  And then, whether intentional or not (and I've certainly done it both ways) I end up acting like a brat.  But, particularly when it's intentional, it's sorta my (inappropriate) way of asking for what I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S has responded a couple ways, and I suppose it's good that I don't always know exactly how she'll respond.  Sometimes, she'll simply indicate that she is displeased with me, and leave me alone to stew for a bit.  This is the hardest one me, but also tends to work me up a bit more emotionally.  Sometimes, she'll take me over her lap, where I'm quite quickly feeling foolish for my brattiness, and wishing I'd simply asked for a spanking, instead of misbehaving and annoying her.  And at least once, she's just put me in the corner for 15 minutes.  I find this most appropriate when I've been being a brat intentionally, instead of just asking for what I want/need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fortunate, I think.  I have a Top who isn't particularly intimidated by my brattiness, and who is also quite willing to give me whatever she thinks I need, regardless of how shy I am about asking for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish, sometimes, that I could silence the brat in me.  She's no fun.  And really, she is always borne of SOME insecurity, always there because I doubt SOMETHING about S' committment, love, concern, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, it looks like she's not going anywhere any time soon. *sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-7772583900775999438?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/7772583900775999438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=7772583900775999438' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/7772583900775999438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/7772583900775999438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2007/12/bratting.html' title='Bratting'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917901351434282946.post-834081312720152160</id><published>2007-12-04T14:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T15:11:17.962-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Way that I am</title><content type='html'>I know, it's the question of the year.  Maybe it's the approaching of the holidays, and a new year that makes me think of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the new changes in my life recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine months ago, I was an (excruciatingly) conservative Christian girl.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knew&lt;/span&gt; homosexuality was wrong.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knew&lt;/span&gt; what I wanted to do with my life.  I wanted to graduate from seminary, and finish my Master's of Social Work, and find myself a nice job in a nice little Baptist Children's home, before one day opening my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, life is different now.  Because, over the course of the last 9 months, I've come to understand and accept about myself the fact that I am a woman who loves women.  Who is, in fact, in love with one woman.  Who is, in fact, living with her girlfriend, and involved in a domestic discipline relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's...a lot of different things to deal with.  There is, on the one hand, the desire, the need,  to somehow integrate my faith and my sexuality.  This is no small task.  I have spent years believing that God frowned (rather severely, I might add) on men who sleep with men, and women who sleep with women.  Not only that, but just because I've come to an understanding that my sexuality IS okay with God, doesn't mean I know how to work it out.  Does that mean I can have sex before marriage now--and if not, what KIND of marriage qualifies me to sleep with the woman I love?  A civil union?  Does a minister have to be involved??  How, exactly, is sex DEFINED, in this context?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, dear God, how am I going to tell my grandmother?  How do I allow myself to take the time to "come out" as I'm comfortable, and convince myself that my current inability to be COMPLETELY out doesn't mean I'm a coward??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough right there to...keep me awake at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I are in a domestic discipline relationship, as well.  Though, I hate that term.  To be clear, I have rules.  And when I break them, S keeps me accountable--most frequently through spanking, but corner time, writing lines, a mouthful of soap, and restrictions aren't out of the question either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad for this.  In fact, I got a pretty hard spanking last night, that I asked for, b/c I could NOT let go of the idea that I was a coward, b/c there are still some people (like my grandma) that I just can't be honest with.  S doesn't like me being that hard on myself.  Frankly, neither do I, but I needed to be...reminded, that it wasn't okay.  That I needed to give myself time to work through this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that to indicate that this DD lifestyle provides its own challenges.  It scares me, because I've believed my need for this was wrong for so long.  It frustrates me, because I so infrequently manage to follow all (or even most) of my fairly short list of rules.  It hurts, because that woman knows how to swing a belt (and a paddle, and her hand, ftl).  It makes me think, worry about if there's something wrong with me for wanting this.  It embarrasses me, when I have to ask for what I need, when I have to communicate about it openly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it eases me, when I (finally) get this need met.  And I do need it.  So, while it comes with its own challenges, it is satisfying in me something that I need now.  Especially since the rest of my life is so...tumultuous at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's a fairly good introduction to what this blog will be about.  I'm gonna grapple with these issues.  I'm gonna talk about how they are playing out in my life.  I'm gonna try to figure out what The Way that I am means, and what exactly it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917901351434282946-834081312720152160?l=breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/feeds/834081312720152160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8917901351434282946&amp;postID=834081312720152160' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/834081312720152160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917901351434282946/posts/default/834081312720152160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakingglassorbreakingdown.blogspot.com/2007/12/way-that-i-am.html' title='The Way that I am'/><author><name>Nic</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
