What I’ve thought about more lately is how I feel better. I feel like there should be question marks after that because things are shit so I feel weird saying I feel better. I do though, feel a lot better. Less panicky, less fearful, and more mad/frustrated/angry. In order to get to this place, I had to change some habits.

I stopped drinking full cafe coffee. I don’t have much self control when it comes to stopping at one cup, and when you’re already anxious, adding more coffee makes it ten times worse. I also decreased my Twitter consumption quite a bit. I love Twitter, but honestly it can stoke those anxious feelings to such a high that I feel fear, sick, and anxiety combined. The last thing I did was start doing more body weight exercises. Indoor activities that have helped me feel more in control and combat how mush I’m eating.

My panic attacks stopped. That feeling like I was going to die, that dense of impending doom, stopped. It’s been a week without an attack. I’ve felt like I can think a little clearer and view things without this fear overwhelming me. I’ve also started writing again and feel this almost jolt of creativity.

I’m supposed to go back to work soon, which has brought up those other feelings of anger and frustration. This situation isn’t going to resolve as soon as everyone is hoping. Well, everyone who is a politician at least. My line of work puts me at heightened risk, and if people don’t continue taking this seriously enough, I could very much be exposed and die. So I’m mad because people continue to be reckless and cavalier.

My therapist says anger is great as long as it serves a purpose and we can do something with it. It’s a lovely protective mechanism because I feel alive. I’d rather be angry instead of sad or anxious. I can move forward if I’m angry, where as sadness and anxiety keep me trapped.

I’m left wondering how next week, next month, a few months from now look. How we’ll all look on the other side of this. I hope having learned something and survived.

The post Contemplating appeared first on Cara Thereon.

I’ve talked about that before, feeling unseen. Honestly, it’s this something many girls, many people, have dealt with? My feelings are real and valid, but I am not the only person to feel that way.

What I have been trying to do is to work through it.

Often times, when I say I feel invisible, I mean I don’t feel seen or valued by those people I want to be attracted to me. What even is the source of that vulnerability? That need to be seen and viewed as desirable, wanted, delightful? It’s funny because I know people are attracted to and notice me. I had a man call me beautiful as I walked by a few days ago. But trauma runs deep, doesn’t it?

Therapy is magical and no one will convince me otherwise. Okay, maybe not magical, but it is incredibly eye opening. Having someone else ask the questions, take what I feel is just ramblings about my day, and dig a little deeper into the things I’m really feeling. In this, I’m discovering the source of some of my feelings of invisibility.

My therapist does an almost family centered management of the emotions that live in us. Addressing each deeper issue and the emotions that protect them. It’s understanding whatever values trauma has allowed us to believe and changing it so it’s more aligned to who we are. Lots of exploring the mental plane and what those emotions can look like physically. Allowing them to speak so we can change them. Man, do I have issues, but I’ve learned to look and recognize how tangible those are instead of ignoring them so they can overwhelm me.

I’ll tell you a bit about how my invisibility looks internally

It’s a small child, dirty, and living in a cage. Not trapped because it feels safe in there. It’s funny how being caged in this case feels safe because it’s protecting me from everyone else. That desire to be noticed wars with the fear of what happens when I am. I’m currently addressing the desire to be noticed and my therapist gave me a task. Approach that caged part of me, reach out to it, and tell it I see it.

Lately, when I’ve had those moments where the feeling of invisibility is most intense, I do this. It comes on when I want to be tended to quite intensely so I sit, quiet my mind, and reach out to that part of me. No, I don’t quite know how to change the things that part of me believes yet, but I’m finding as I say “I see you” I feel less vulnerable. Less distressed about what I’m not receiving. I haven’t really fixed myself, but I’m seeing myself. It has had an interesting effect on me. I do feel less invisible. Yes, I still want people to want to spend time with me, value me, and want me. I just don’t feel quite so depressed if I don’t get that.

I can’t make others want me. In exploring kink, trying to find partners, and trying to have my needs met, it drives that point home hard. While I can’t get others to see me, I can change how I respond to things like rejection or being ignored. Over the last week, it’s gotten better.

It’s all about discovery, yes. Maybe my kink life is in a serious lull, but my emotional self is moving in the right direction. That’s just as important.

The post A Window Inside appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Imma be honest, I don’t particularly feel like blogging or talking or sharing. So why am I instead of just staying silent? Because that’s the path of least resistance, me not saying anything at all. At times, it feels like I do it, disconnect or disassociate from my thoughts and emotions, because I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s easier to think nothing than to deal with the pressure of a ton of intrusive thoughts.

Anyway, that’s not the point of why I sat down to write. The beginning of this month, I was meant to write a bit of a summary of last month’s writing that I did on story.caratheron.com. Just a recap of where my head was and how I felt writing after a long hiatus. It didn’t happen because – shocking – I hit an emotional low and couldn’t even be bothered to write 2 paragraphs before I deleted the whole mess.

Where was my head at the time? Fucked over about the growing darkness, depleted from writing (a normal thing after a month of it), and just down.

It’s funny to me how a bout of severe depression makes any subsequent lows so much easier to fall into. And by funny, I mean I hate it. It’s been an absolute bitch to get anything done.

Lately, talks with my therapist have turned to acknowledging many of the emotions I’m ignoring. She guides me through discovering how they may be trying to help or protect me in someway. How doing that instead of ignoring them has helped deal with some of the depression that plagues me. As we’ve carried on – me battling a low, exploring the source of it, and feeling lighter when I actually take that time – I’ve realized something; I don’t trust.

This isn’t just an “I don’t trust other people”. I don’t, to be frank. If I’ve said nothing else, I’ve been very honest about my struggle with being an emotional vampire. Battling through others’ emotions stifles my own. No big deal, but when I’m in a literal maelstrom of emotions, I can’t then swim back to the surface even when things settle down. So it’s a bit like drowning and as a compensatory thing, I push my own emotions down.

But this is about trust, right? My usual assumption is someone will do something to destroy my tentative trust in them. To be fair, as humans we disappoint each other. It can’t be helped. I’ve been wounded before so it can be a challenge to climb back on the trust wagon once it’s broken down.

The other thing is I don’t trust myself really. That’s big though and something I’m trying to sort out. I feel like the pressure to make decisions mean I tend to make bad ones. I struggle to extend grace to myself because I don’t trust myself to do the right thing. What if I fuck it all up? There’s no fixing it if it’s fucked.

I feel like that’s the spot I’ve been in lately. Depressed and trying to solider on. Scared to make choices because I feel I’ll pick wrong. Unable to communicate what I’m thinking because my feelings are buried under a big blanket. It’s like walking through molasses.

So how was writing last month then? Good in many ways. It felt good being creative and pushing through the fog to do so. It made me feel hopeful that life hadn’t swallowed me whole. It also made me question what my aim with my Patreon was long term. You want people to show appreciation for your work, but what of/in what you do has value? I keep meaning to revamp things, but how much? What do I offer? What can I offer when half the time I’m focused on getting up and doing the minimum required to life?

As for this month, I’m muddling through NaNo with a decent idea. Let’s see how far I get (and what I manage to post).

I’m here, life-ing. Trying to stay rooted in my positives where I can. Planning to spend the winter with my best friend and see if my little LED lamp brings some happy sunshine in. Feeling my way through a lot of things slowly. I’m ever hopeful even in my struggle. Hope is all we got at times.

–

700+ words that felt like a thousand. Writing is hard sometimes.

The post Trust me not appeared first on Cara Thereon.

So a few things I’ve been considering lately.

One I offered up as a discussion question on Twitter the day before. It centered around intent and perception. My thought process was in reference to writing. Does intent matter in light of someone’s perception of your writing? If the intention wasn’t harm, but the person receiving your writing was harmed (or felt offended or the subject brought up some hard feelings), does that perception supersede intent?

I tend to avoid topics that bother others. My erotica may have parts that aren’t necessarily everyone’s kink, but I don’t stray too far from what’s usually acceptable for people. Even when I do, my intent is usually to write stories that appeal not offend. I want people to read and be aroused, but that gets tricky if people are leaving in disgust.

So of course the discussion raised some other thoughts. Mostly in reference to a phrase I see tossed around by those who are social justice warriors (not a derogatory term). The idea that people need to stay in their lane.

You read a book about an issue or topic, dislike an aspect of it, check who the writer is, see they aren’t (black/a woman/disabled/trans) and immediately dismiss them. Or go on a tirade about how utterly unsuitable they were to write the book/piece because they have no lived experience to write on such things. Cis/white/male get hated on for this a bit, but someone writing about something they aren’t? You stay in your damn lane.

Many a book boycott has started this way lately.

This isn’t without merit, staying within the boundaries of writing things you are knowledgeable enough to write about. Some people are hugely problematic in their approach or understanding of particular groups. How many erotic novels written by men have female characters so absurd it’s almost offensive. Or the writing of the grossly stereotypical black person. Those things need discussed and pointed out so that people are fully aware that what they’re putting out isn’t accurate.

But… some of that is silly too.

I don’t need to be a serial killer to write novels about serial killers. I’ve written a story or two from the point of view of a man and I got no dick. If you look closely at many of my stories, I either write my characters neutral enough they could be anyone OR they are white. Last time I checked, I am not white. I’m writing what I am/have been surrounded by and know most of my readers are white.

Many stories are about emotions. You can write others correctly without lived experience to go with it. Research, asking questions, interacting, and being mindful and intentional in the writing of those characters that are different than yourself.

To tell people not to write a different type of person because they aren’t that type of person is grossly restrictive. It denies someone the opportunity to learn and make an attempt to understand someone who is not them or like them. It can be done right, well, and with a delicate hand.

It’s okay to navigate outside your lane and do so successfully. It’s also okay to make a point of directing people to those books that are better examples of the group you’re trying to represent in your writing. Be an advocate within your writing, show your research, and (if or when you make a misstep) admit you messed up.

Brigit Delaney (@BrigitWrites) said something spot on worth repeating.

I will not stifle my creativity because it might make someone uncomfortable. I am bound to offend someone at some point. And I am okay with that.

Some things are taboo, but that doesn’t make them off limits. Some things offend and that’s necessary. As *RG mentioned* in her talk at Eroticon, we should go to those places not stay away from them. We should tackle things without fear, but be willing to take the pushback when it comes in order to explore scary subjects.

I’m a chicken, admittedly, but I do want to be braver writing those subjects I’m not necessarily versed in. I do want to measure my understanding against my intent because I can fuck up badly if that’s misplaced. To know when not to write something as much as when to give it a go. I’m not exactly the pillar of “do the right thing”, but I try.

Hopefully, if I’m asked, I can explain my intent and with that conversation learn where I’ve messed up. It’s about making mistakes, learning, and making more connections, right?

I’ll venture out of my lane just a little.

The post Stay in your lane appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Let me start by saying I love this community. I love, too, the strides we’re taking as women, sex bloggers, etc. We have a great voice and we have the opportunity to change how sex is viewed, how sex toys are made, and how we can have agency within sex matters. We’re awesome, no doubt.

Until we’re not.

Imma go ahead and say “we”, because singling anyone out is an impediment to progress. It also reminds us that this is a community, which then gives us all ownership. We all have a stake and separating us out doesn’t always fix anything.

I’d waffled about writing anything because I didn’t particularly want to make waves. My mentally is what does it accomplish? If the answer is nothing, then why bring it up.

I’m bringing it up because I’m fed up, and a fed up Cara isn’t good for anyone. I’ve done a lot of tongue biting lately. If I bite my tongue anymore, I’m going to bite clear through it.

Lets talk about a couple of things that have cropped up lately. Things that have made me roll my eyes so hard they may fall out of my head.

Outrage:

For over a year, we’ve been subject to absurd levels of tomfoolery. It’s top down shenanigans. It’s government officials doing things for years only now they’re so insanely crass and out of control, I can’t go a couple hours without feeling flabbergasted. I’m daily waking up to some level of ridiculous that causes anxiety. That anxiety builds up to boiling levels and the result is crusading and rising up to protest the wrongs occurring. Let’s get things done.

But… BUT

I’ve noticed this ugly trend. A small thing produces this overwhelming response. We are angry! We are indignant! We are OUTRAGED! Over toilet paper, tea, and signage.

Many things deserve our outrage. Need it because a wrong that goes unacknowledged can’t be changed. My issue is the response doesn’t seem to fit the infraction. More, other people are succumbing to the mob mentality and turning what is a teaching moment into this huge, ugly thing.

I stand with narrowed eyes and a little used hashtag. #CalmTheHellDown

Maybe what you’re saying is important, but honestly I stopped listening. Or maybe the other things you’re talking about are amazing, but if the only time you crop up on my timeline is when you’ve got some poor sap on blast… yea, couldn’t care less about the other things you’re saying.

What does your outrage accomplish? Is it change? Or, and hear me out here, *are you cowing people into agreement*? Isn’t that the very behavior we despise in those who outrage us?

Be better. Do better.

Instead of launching a crusade outright, stop and ask yourself a few questions.

Am I silencing others?

Am I harming or jeopardizing my stance?

Am I just like the people I’m fighting?

Respect is a funny thing. Many don’t deserve it and damn sure aren’t worthy of it, but a tentative extension of respect (and a cordial tone) may be enough to turn the tide.

The only thing going in guns blazing gets you is a bunch of dead people and others who are too leery to listen. People lose trust and then decide they no longer want to work with us. We lose in the end.

*Even if I don’t make this point again, this is the point of the whole post.

I get you don’t agree, but don’t tell me how to think:

Aah man, here’s my point that I’m going to come across as a straight bitch over.

It starts like this: Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me (Thank you, Rage Against The Machine). Or, you can’t tell me what to think.

There’s this habit I’ve noticed. You don’t like what I have to say so you shout me down. Never mind I’m on your side, never mind I just may agree. But that little part I don’t agree on? I’m suddenly trash and bad for the movement.

Rolling my eyes again.

Listen, I rarely bring up race. I think it, but hardly ever make it a talking point in my life. But I ask you, what is the me too movement, feminism, or the Sex blogging community doing to be inclusive to POCs and those who aren’t white/straight/the norm?

The me too movement was started by a black woman, but you’d never know it by how little representation we have. The hot takes, the outrage, the people predominately coming forward? WW. If you have the power, use it correctly.

I don’t want to diminish anyone’s voice, but I know plenty of men who are petrified to even speak up because of how they will be perceived. It’s easy to say, “who asked you, man?” But it’s important to listen.

Don’t call me trash when I disagree. I’ve had my share of terrible abuse, but I don’t claim to understand every thing either. Don’t yell over me when I voice a concern or shake my head. I’m entitled to my opinion. If I’m wrong, don’t shut me out. I’ll listen to you and see if I need to shift my thinking. If this is a community, act like you give a shit. We all have differing opinions and our present inability to listen is why we can’t change things. Stop talking over me.

Best way to turn me off? Yell and scream and shut me out.

The people we deal with may be wrong, but crucifying them has the ugly effect of sending the ugly opinion underground to fester. Until we end up with Trump as president. Could be argued we did nothing to help them reform and that madness bubbled up. They are wrong, make zero mistake, but we the liberal leaning did little to help them feel we understood their disillusion. Some things you can’t fix, but what about those we could? Should we shut them all the way down with screams and pointed remarks? And what’s the end result of that? The answer may be no and nothing. You draw your own conclusions here.

I struggle here so this is the importance of “we”. I want to ignore, but I must at least know so I can speak truth. Ignorance isn’t bliss. Many thought racism had nearly died out like whooping cough (clue: it hadn’t), but just like WC we adapted this attitude that’s since led to a resurgence. You were equipped to fight it and yet…

Female Agency:

There have been many more opinions in recent days surrounding the direction the movements have been going in. Important discussions on consent and sexual agency.

To reiterate: no means no. Full stop. Don’t blame the victim. Full stop.

But I think it’s okay to ask question about a woman’s agency in a situation. To empower women where we can do so.

The thing I like about BDSM is it facilities agency. Subs have power and agency within this community. We discuss what we don’t like and what doesn’t work. It’s paramount to a healthy and safe scene.

It also teaches people about playing safe. Your top/Dom asks how you’re doing, yes, but the bottom also has to speak up when it’s too much. Both parties are attuned to the other so no one gets hurt. You have a safe word for a reason. If anything, those who don’t practice could learn a thing or two about safety from the community . Take that into a sexual relationship. Negotiate those things.

We are not helpless. To say otherwise takes power away from women. The ability to be smart and have personal agency does not change. If you don’t feel you have it, strive to achieve it.

I’ve had to learn it. I know I struggle with the desire to be passive in my sexual practices. That is years of conditioning and some abuse that’s made this tough, but I’m learning. I’m also learning to be clear and in control of myself.

What do I like? What do I want? Let me tell you. If we stray from that, I’m going to make myself stand firm.

If after I regret something, I’m allowed to regret. I should use that to grow. If it was a truly bad experience, I need to examine why and use that to change what I want, who I date, and what sex can be for me.

I think we’re still trying to negotiate the nuances of sex and consent. Important talks that need to be navigated with care. If we’re cutting each other off because we don’t view something the same way, it causes halts in important conversations that give agency, teach responsibility, and facilitate community growth.

Perception is everything and no one can be right all the time, but if you’re not willing to talk, disagree, come to an understanding nothing gets done.

Let’s use this to come to a better understanding of how consent should look in sexual interactions.

In conclusion:

God don’t like ugliness, and some of y’all are ugly to the bone right now.

Or (if God isn’t your cuppa), if your behavior makes those outside the community (and inside of it frankly) look at the community/movement as a whole and say, “maybe they aren’t worth listening to,” you’re doing this wrong. Acting like a pack of unleashed hyenas under the guise of social justice helps no one.

Careful not to shut down marginalized voices in the very movement you want to push forward. Listen a little more when the opportunity presents itself. And for crying out loud, stop being so damn heavy handed about everything. Agree to disagree where there’s room for such things. There’s enough bullshit happening without your crazy outrage clouding the air.

We are better than this. Act better then this.

*A few people have made some really good points lately that are worth noting. This post by Carsie Blanton touches on the parts, like agency, I couldn’t quite explain as well.

That’s it. I had my rant. We can fight over it later #fightme #comeatmebro, but know even if I disagree I’ll at least listen. No guarantee minds will be changed, but civil (emphasis on that word) discourse is important to the process.

Have a kiss and a fine day.

The post Here we go… appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Some of that is probably the men I’ve been attracted to not being into me. Timing could have a lot to do with that or where I’ve been geographically for portions of my life. Could be a color issue, could be my personality, could be a lot of reasons why, but the end result is I’ve been single.

I’ve never had a boyfriend so at times it’s a foreign concept to me.

Had to look up the definition of a boyfriend, because… why not?

A few months ago, Molly said something about me being DomSigns’ girlfriend. Then my best friend, after I mentioned the relationship, called him my boyfriend. I furrowed my brow both times because it’s so strange to me.

For the longest time, I didn’t believe I was girlfriend material. If you’d have asked me last year this time, I was still doubting my attractiveness to the opposite sex forget having a boyfriend.

Honestly, I’ve just felt too strange, unattractive, and difficult to be anyone’s girlfriend. A boyfriend is someone who wants to be with you forever (or at least longer than a few days or dates) and my experience had been anything but that. I’d come to the conclusion that guys want to fuck me, but not date or be with me long term. It’s enough to give a girl a complex!

I’d believed I’d never have a boyfriend and was approaching the age where the idea of being single for the duration of my life was a sure thing.

But DomSigns is my boyfriend. My best friend will jokingly call him my ManFriend, which I’m not so sure about.

This is new and different for me. I have to change my mindset. This is more than a D/s relationship with DomSigns. It’s more than a Daddy/kitten relationship. This is someone I love and want to be with for as long as he’ll have me.

I was thinking about this last night. A Daddy/kitten relationship is awesome, but it’s easy for me to slip into a role as a simple receiver. He directs and I follow. I’m a little girl and he leads me, calls me sexy, makes me need him, and punishes me when I’m bad.

But this is more obviously.

To love someone and care for them is different. To give to them and build them up. To think about ways to help them grow stronger. That’s something else. When I can be on a Skype call with him and we don’t have to talk and it’s comfortable, I’m pretty sure we’re nearing nirvana.

I’m still trying to feel out being someone’s girlfriend, having a boyfriend and I like that. I never expected to have someone who’s mine in any fashion and it makes me happy. I’m still learning my place in my relationship and that’s important to admit.

So subby, kitten, little and girlfriend.

Love is a good thing. It takes a girl who never thought she’d ever being in a long term relationship, to one with a boyfriend. I definitely didn’t think I’d get here and I’m learning to enjoy it.

The post Boy friend/Boyfriend appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Let me start by saying I’m at work (I was at the time I wrote this) and it’s the middle of the night (not so much now) so the title is asking forgiveness for what could be a rambly (possibly interrupted post). Also, I’m low on sleep so forgive the glaring issues with editing.

Not a lot bothers me. Yes, I do get anxious about things, but even I realize those things aren’t as huge a deal as I tend to make them. Rarely do things get me up in arms enough to write about them in a post here. They are limited to my family, Women’s rights things, and some race issues.

This post is going to focus on the last bit.

I say some because not everything bothers me when it comes to race relations. Some things are such fact of life things, that I brush it off. Will I, as an black woman, be followed around the store? Many times I am, sometimes not. Will I be the only black person at this event? Probably. Do I let stop me? Not often.

I tend to be fearless. I’ll take risks with my safety more than I should. Not always, but sometimes. I adopt a “keep your chin up, and look like you’re tough shit” demeanor, and power on.

Really this is just a segue to say that when I’m upset or angry over something, when I’m scared or defensive, this is serious stuff.

Not to get into too much detail about my life, but it hasn’t been bad. I’m a middle class, black girl who grew up in a middle class white neighborhood. I was an oddity when I first moved, but I was young and fairly unaware so even those moments that (in hindsight) were once of ignorance, I could overlook. Oh I was called the black girl by a classmate or asked if I was related to so and so because we were both black (no, I’m not. We look nothing alike ). Overall, I never felt too odd about being black. I never felt scared.

My first run in wasn’t until College. The first time I was called the N word and my white friends either didn’t notice or didn’t care. That changed me a little. It was the first time I’d ever been scared because of my skin color. When I told other kids who were from urban areas, they got it. Maybe it reinforced their beliefs about white areas and white people, but I was happy to know someone understood my moment.

That blip passed and I moved on. Being the only black person in a professional position at my place of employment or in my role in education, was just a fact of life. I was never going to meet anyone where I was. I’ve always liked white guys because it’s who I grew up around. No white guys were interested in me. Then I moved and that changed.

Just prior to this, my brother had an experience that was another blip that caused me fear. My brother has a job that has him working closely with police. He had a moment where someone called the cops when he was out on a call thinking he was a different person. They rolled up and had him in handcuffs without checking who he was. If he wasn’t recognized by another police officer, where would he be? How many black man have been harassed or killed in the last few years by police? Forgive me for being overzealous, but that shook me up.

There’s a certain fear that’s steadily risen over the last few years. It’s hard to explain it if it’s not something you’re familiar with. Oh, I’m sure more people get it now with how tenuous things have been in politics, which has everyone on edge.

The thing that sparked this thought was looking through these photos from 50 years ago. I also recently looked through a link on Lynchings (I won’t supply that link as it’s too fucking distressing).

My mind turned to those people in those photos. Those fighting, getting hurt, and dying for civil rights. I was also thinking of those on the other side. Not necessarily those cops or politicians who actively opposed civil rights, but those people doing nothing.

It’s not difficult to think that the people you care about or are your friends could turn a blind eye to your struggle. There are people who believe themselves to be good people, but when you ask them how they feel about (blacks being killed by police/women having access to birth control services/kneeling on the MotherFing football field in protest/insert some aspect of unrest) and they act like it doesn’t matter.

<<<<<< "they have as much opportunity as anyone else." "Stop talking about my privilege, I grew up in... and I came from nothin." "Gun violence/black on black crime" Those I least expect to say it, are the ones saying it in private or publicly on Facebook. The past shows that people move with the times.Would you have believed I deserved rights if you were present in that time era? It takes an active mind to push past the engrained things we believe or are taught. Your one black friend doesn't give you leeway to say shitty things or not understand that being black can be a disadvantage. Being color blind accomplishes little expect allow you to be blind to the wrongs being committed. There's so much internalized hate that we don't even realize is there. How we treat women, how we react to those different than us, how women perceive themselves from TV, etc. Being a black woman can mean being fetishized. In the past, when a convo about dating starts with, "I've never been with a black woman." I get a little leery. I read such a good post recently that I feel translates so well no matter what side of the pond you’re on. I’ve been passed over, was all through high school because I was the black girl. I also don’t fit what people think a black woman should behave like. I grew up in a predominately white suburb, remember? The people I compared myself to were the standard for white beauty.

I forget sometimes that not everyone likes me. I forget that not everyone is for me. I forget sometimes that things and people can change in an instant. I forget that things aren’t always fair and just.

I guess my whole post boils down to advantage. It’s hard to understand someone when you yourself aren’t the one at the disadvantage. It’s also easy to become desensitized to someone’s struggle when you aren’t struggle. Or your struggle is over and you’ve forgotten where you’ve come from.

Life is supposed to be fair, but it’s not. At the end of the day, the color of my skin still matters as much my gender.

Heaven help me for wishing we were different and understood each other.

The post Forgive Me appeared first on Cara Thereon.

I know that’s something that most of you know already from my relationship with DomSigns and many stories I’ve written. But I don’t think anyone knows the type of person I am and how it plays off my submission.

One of my biggest things is needing approval. I want to please everyone around me to the detriment of myself. It becomes this driving need to make sure everyone is happy and, more than that, happy with me. I’m the submissive who will do whatever you ask because I want you to be pleased with me.

The other side of that is I fear punishment. Fear it in ways I can’t always explain. I don’t like getting in trouble and avoid it at all costs. It’s not like I don’t make missteps as a subby because I’m human, but I loathe messing up.

I’m learning, with a lot of love from DomSigns, that mistakes are a way to improve. That punishment isn’t always a bad thing because I’m learning and becoming better.

I’m a perfectionist, too. Or I trend toward it in many of my behaviors. It has to be right, and if I mess up, I am bad. Talking to me after I’ve made a mistake is not a fun experience.

It can get ugly inside my mind if I’m not careful.

I’ve lived with comparing myself to others also. A friend I grew up with (I’ve lived the large majority of my life in a predominantly white area) was blonde, blue-eyed, and sweet as apple pie. Everyone wanted her, or so it seemed to me. I struggled because I was the tall, black girl who no one had any interest in through high school. I wasn’t ideal and always envied her. I’d compare things between us that weren’t comparable, but couldn’t help it. It killed me to feel like I was coming up short in every way.

Comparing can be murky territory to wade into because of our differences.

Recently, Molly mentioned tasks. We differ in how we look at this topic. She’s spoken at length about it.

I bring this up because it’s easy to compare to someone in a similar situation as you. Two subs, who are totally different, can draw comparisons when it comes to their D/s relationship and be left wondering if they’re doing it wrong. What motivates me, what drives me to submit, isn’t the same for Molly or Pandakitten or Willow or Kayla. Our relationships may all contain submissive bits, but because our personalities differ we don’t submit the same.

Some of us bring fire and fight to our relationships. Some sass and brattiness. Some of us are little girls who like to just make Daddy happy. I’m no fighter. I’ve never been. I slip into the sub that wants to please very easily. If presented with a task, I want to complete it.

My history, my personality, makes me the type of sub I am. It doesn’t make me a better or more obedient sub at times because of what drives me. I’m still learning how to change the emotions and drive. I’m still trying to find that place where love governs more of my behaviors, more of my desire to give of myself.

So a comparison game only serves to keep you from enjoying the kind of submission that works for your relationship.

The post Nothing Compares appeared first on Cara Thereon.

As most people are aware, Molly is Michael’s (DomSigns or Daddy’s) wife and submissive. I admire and look up to their relationship. They’re one of the few kink-centered couples that I am closely acquainted with, that has a solid relationship. Not perfect, but so good that it’s an example of what I long for in marriage. Because of the nature of things, I am the other woman.

First, let me say that I don’t think the term “other woman” truly applies here. That terminology implies that I’m a secret, or that Molly is unaware of my presence, or that I’m something “dirty” to be hidden and seen on the weekend. None of those things are true. Molly is very aware of me and encourages/supports the relationship I have with Daddy. It’s not a secret aside from what I don’t tell those who probably wouldn’t understand. I’m a little bit of a dirty girl, but not a dirty secret. So I’m another piece to their puzzle I suppose.

A third implies I play with both parties. At the moment, I’m interacting with Daddy and Molly is very present (or vice versa). I’ll stop there and say our play is evolving. Look for future posts to understand.

Honestly, before I visited, much of my interaction was between Daddy and I solely. Molly was aware and when we’d call, we’d all chat, but he and I talked predominately. When I showed up, things changed a bit. The first thing I noticed was how easily I fit into their space both physically and emotionally, which surprised me. I had a spot on the sofa, and I slipped into moments of play without a problem, and I felt welcomed and happy. When I left, I was almost as upset to say bye to Molly as I was Daddy. It felt good and right and lovely to be with both of them, in different ways.

It wasn’t until I returned that I had thoughts about what my role was in the dynamic, we talk so much as a group. To be loved by this man is very special considering he gives his love to few people.

I’ve held a deep attraction to men in committed relationships. You see they have the capacity to truly care for someone without getting scared and running away. They know how to support a partner and it’s obvious in how they love their significant other. They’re solid, and that draws me in ways I can’t always explain. Unfortunately, some men are shit at being decent guys and sticking around. They see a woman with emotions who wants to stick with them and they bugger off so fast it’s ridiculous. Oh, they may wake up and cleave to someone at some point, but that someone has never been me.

Is there safety in attaching myself to a married man? I’m not sure I’d call this safe. We could arrive at a moment where he decides he’d rather just be with his wife or she decides she doesn’t want to be bothered with her husband’s love being divided, and I’m left holding pieces of my heart. I don’t have the safety of a ring to give me a stated place in the dynamic. *Michael note: But she does wear my collar and that was not given lightly*

There is comfort here because the two people whose relationship I’m adding to are both open, honest, and giving. I don’t feel out of place or uncomfortable. They’ve given me the space to be honest about my fears, my desires, and my unstated longings.

I feel like I can grow and have grown in the last 6 months. Never have I been with someone who cares about me so much, cares about my future so much, or cares about what happens to me. It makes me feel so many emotions it’s insane.

There’s a lot of things I still want to talk and think about on the topic of Daddy and kitten. I have a story brewing about something that interests me greatly. Thanks for coming along as I explore.

The post And C makes Three appeared first on Cara Thereon.

That’s a saying I learned from my mother. She’d mention it from time to time when the topic of dating came up. She’d been with a young man early in life and it took an older man to teach her a little about love.

There is a bit of an age gap between DomSigns and I. For a bit of reference, I am 33 and he is going to turn 57 shortly. In my mind, that’s not a large age difference as there was a 20+ year age difference between my parents.

It’s interesting how I don’t always consider, nor am I aware of the gap. He’s still a man, one who is very good at arousing me when I’m around him. I spent a lot of my visit naked or nearly so and just the thought of being touched by him made me wet.

I’ve thought about whether I have secret daddy issues. I lost my father when I was very young and haven’t had a true father figure in my life. That’s a lot of formative years without a man to guide you. I don’t think I’ve done too terribly growing into a woman without a father, but it can make a difference when it comes to confidence.

I don’t believe that means I look at him and consider him a substitute for my father. I mean, I call him Daddy because in many ways he brings out that little girl inside me. But… I don’t feel about him the way I felt about my father. If I felt for my dad or did the things with my dad that I’ve done with DomSigns, we’d be discussing something else entirely.

I do like that he’s older. That he’s got silver in his hair and knowledge in his eyes. I like that his hands know what to do, that his body understands, and that he’s mature in ways that a younger man isn’t.

Bottom line is he is unique. Even at a distance he cares for me. He’s an amazing cook, he is so handsome, and he understands me better than any man has ever made an effort to. I don’t think his age matters much in the equation, just like my skin color doesn’t matter.

He’s my Daddy. Not too old, not too young, but just right.

The post Age Play appeared first on Cara Thereon.