I was looking at the world through a new pair of eyes.
Having spent much of the last two years under the watchful gaze of Sir it was strange to see the whole kinky world opening up before me in a new way. He had helped me to see the person that I was in a positive light, a way that I was unable to during my marriage. I had begun to accept that my kinks and fantasies were safe to explore, as long as I didn’t cause any harm or upset to others. I had also had enough time to get up to mischief that I had identified risks, and as a parting gift from Sir he had given me a whole range of safety guidelines so that I was in a better position to get home safely after meeting new people.
With my restrictions lifted I was free to do as I pleased.
When sir had disappeared, due to his accident, I was unsure whether I was being tested or had been dropped like a hot potato. It was a distressing and confusing time. Coupled with the total collapse of my marriage I had no idea whether I was coming or going, and went into a spiral of self-destruction and didn’t pay much heed to my safety or who I was meeting. This time I knew that he wanted me safe and that he would be back in contact at some point. If he didn’t care even a little bit he wouldn’t have left guidelines or asked if I would like him to be in touch again; funny how it took him leaving for me to realise that he thought of me as more than just a plaything.
That realisation gave me confidence that I had been struggling with.
My confidence had been battered over the years that I was married, and over the time since I had moved my P out his behaviour had been causing a dripping tap effect. He had systematically isolated me during our marriage, except for permitted friends and family, and after I moved him out he spread all sorts of lies and nonsense to those people. I was left with no friends, bar the ones I had been making through kink, and my family put distance between us. They would say they were there for me but, it wasn’t until I discovered what stories had been made up about me that I was able to start rebuilding those family bonds. After I had approached the health visiting team and then social services over concerns for my children I had been put on the waiting list for talking therapy, to help me build up my self worth once more.
Just before sir left I had been given a date to meet a lady called Rachel.
The woman who greeted me in the waiting room was kind and accepting, but more than that…. she had an air of dominance about her; I’m not sure if it was her dress, posture or mannerisms but I felt really at ease with her.Whether she was a fellow kinkster or not, during my 18 sessions with her I felt safe to talk to her about all levels of my life, without fear of repercussions. In that little room I cried and laughed, talked and clammed up. She encouraged me to think about my life as a bowl of spaghetti, and her job was to help me straighten out the strands. All she would do is ask me questions, and I would spew the contents of my brain out. It was with her I named the relationship I had with P as abusive. I had always thought of myself as a bright woman, and didn’t understand how I could have been so stupid, so blind!
I started to learn that I was a good mum, and that I could manage life in general.
My time in that room with the incredible Rachel gave me a way of translating the strength I had found with sir in my kink life into a vanilla resilience I had never known as an adult. I learnt about my past, discovered things that made me tick at the time and planned next steps for weekly goals and longer term plans. At times I was scared of the changes I made, but for the most part I was excited to continue growing as a woman and learning to sail my own ship in my own way.