Thanksgiving… no thanks.

As I sit wakeing this morning from a bad dream and wallowing in insecurity I wonder if I will even bother to do anything for the holidays. Hell… the whole reason I cook for Thanksgiving is for the pleasure of the one I am with. This year… the stove will be cold. Cooking a big meal is another form of art for me. Juggling times and temperatures,  spice and ingredient, each comeing together to form a beautiful balance of flavor.
 sigh and this year… there is no joy in it. I doubt I will cook so much as a biscuit. It just feels wrong if there is no joy in the kitchen.  So I will go to work.. like any other day. Come home… have a salad then to bed. And try to forget the day is any different from any other.
 I will put up the Christmas tree some time the week after because cookie likes it. But I doubt I will even take time off for Christmas.  Why bother? So I can sit at home wishing I had someone to spend it with? Pass.
 Dont get me wrong.. I love the holidays. The joy and celebration are something I charish. And their in lays the problem.  It’s all about sharing time and being close. Shared experience of being happy doing things together.. which I love. And that is missing this year. Doing holiday things without the one you care about just makes you feel more lonely than ever. So yah.. I wont be watching xmas movies or bakeing savory treats this year. It would just make me sad. Just thinking about it hurts. I’m shure one day I will recapture that joy. But this year will be hard.

Best wishes-SirHanz

Heart of glass

I have always said I have a heart of glass..

Beautiful to hold, the rays of dawn scatter shining rainbows of light from your hands.

But cast it away… and it shatters.

I pick up the peaces, slowly putting it back together again. It’s never the same though. You never quite find all the pieces. A chip here.. a crack that doesn’t quite fit there..

It is still beautiful, maybe even more than when it was perfect. But it isn’t whole.

Each time it is cast away and broken.. the peaces fit back together a little less.. there are more cracks. It is no less shiny and the cracks make more rainbows than ever… but hold it carefully while we look for more broken pieces. There are edges that may cut your hand. Who would want such a damaged thing.. who would press it to their chest to keep it safe.. regardless of how sharp the edges are..

Not many I fear.. for there are less broken.. softer hearts..

Used… one heart of glass… free from original owner. Fragile, do not drop.

The House of Hanz

Part of the reason I am writing this blog is cathartic exercise. It’s not healthy to feel like you have to hide a part of yourself. So one blog at a time I am putting it all out there.

Today I am talking about my last sub and my home. This is not an easy topic for me to talk about let alone write down for all the world to see. But I think I should. Primary because I really don’t want to.

I will start with this… when I give my heart to someone… I am fiercely loyal…

I met my sub, I will call her S about 11 years ago. We had a lot in common and even though she didnt know anything at all about bdsm at the time was a submissive in the truest sense of the word. She had a 9yo daughter and at first I was hesitant because of my past experiences but vary quickly came to care for her deeply. S had a pretty rough life up until the point she met me, her story is not mine to tell but suffice to say that she had been abused. Both as a child and later with a physically and mentally abusive husband. There were a lot of mental scars left over from that experience and I was careful to try to learn her triggers and avoid them.

It was several months after we met that she moved in with me with her daughter and the dog that had been her constant companion through years of abuse. Things were going well at first and S was learning to be an amazing submissive despite her heath problems (she has a bad case of fibromyalgia). Then her daughter started having problems in school. We were not in the best part of town to put it mildly and the teachers at the school just wanted to meditate the heck out of the poor girl instead of hoping with her behavior problems. So lacking alternatives we pulled her out of school and S started homeschooling her. We had her in therapy and seeing a psychiatrist, she was finally diagnosed with O.D.D. oppositional defiance disorder. Her behavior got steadily worse as she got older. She used the manipulation of others like a weapon to torment S trying to force S into giving her whatever she wanted at the time. I didnt work but the stress of being in constant damage control mode and haveing a daughter that not only showed S no affection but made her feel like a failure all the time was extremely taxing on S personality and to our relationship. Somehow we made the best of it and made it work.

Years passed and eventually we got a 3 bedroom 2 bath mobile home In a much better part of town. We got the daughter back into public school and even though she was held back twice she was in a better school with better teachers that mostly understood why she acted the way she does. Her behavior did not improve. She became more manipulative and abusive toward S the older she got. It was all I could do to prop up S however I could and try to minimize the damage.

Things steadily got worse between me and S as she mentally retreated from haveing any kind of emotional connection with anyone except for her dog. This was vary hard on me but I understood and did what I could to support her and show that she was cared for. It seemed to help for a while and it felt like things were getting better.

Then three and a half years ago her daughter turned 18, and days after in a fit or rage dropped out of school, said some vary hurtful things to S and left home… S was devastated. And again.. I was left to pick up the pieces of my my beloved sub and try to help her however I could….. 4 weeks later her dog that had been with her through everything as a source of comfort passed away from pancreatitis…. and I think it broke her. She retreated from the world, and from me. I have done everything I can to be supportive, but no matter how much I do or give she is not who she once was. We are friendly with each other but I have not received so much as a hug from her in 3 years. This year she moved into the extra room in the house. (My best friend and adopted brother lives in the other room). S is unable to work due to health problems so I still support her because I care about her enough to not want to see her in a bad situation. But we are no longer together in any sense of the word. I am feeling rather sad as I write this.. after everything we went through it just feels so wrong. But it is reality and I will not look away because it makes me feel better.

Two years ago I rescued a dog to try and help S form some kind of connection again. It didnt work but I at least found a friend. He became vary attached to me and is as I write this sleeping on my feet in my big empty bed. Even if he didnt help S that much he definitely helped me.

I will end this story here and leave you with an introduction to cookie monster. (Cookie when he is good, just monster when he is being an asshat)

Best wishes -SirHanz

The Phoenix Heart

Born of a glowing enber..

Writhing and twisting in the flame of life…

In love.. incandescent…

Then burned to ash as love dies…

Leavening but an ember..

Again it rises..

Illuminating the world in beauty..

And again… death… and ash…

A tiny flicker again finds hope..

Raising its head once more…

It sings its song of warmth and love..

Bereft of an answering song…

In sadness… again grows cold..

And again is not but ash and ember..

The spark burns my flesh as the flame did not…

And so with a heavy heart..

I put out the light..

A Difficult father’s day.

Sigh… where to begin..

Fathers day is difficult for me. In my current relationship (if you can even call it that anymore) I did the best that anyone possibly could have to help raise a stepdaughter. She never really saw me as a father and was manipulative and abusive toward her mother. And before anyone asks, yes… she was in therapy and seeing a psychiatrist. She was diagnosed with O.D.D. oppositional defiance disorder. She would steal, lie and play victim for attention. She would manipulate people who didnt know her that well into giving her things she wanted by telling them made up stories about how bad her home life was. We had child protective services call on us half a dozen times, and even though we had been cleared as good parents many times they still had to investigate each new claim by law. This was another way for her to put more stress and pressure on her mother. Imagine haveing to explain all this to EVERYONE your daughter comes into contact with. Teachers, bus drivers, counselors, nurses, police officers… the list is endless.

And before all that… years before… there is another story to be told.

Gather round the campfire ladies and gentlemen.. today I will tell a story.

This is a rare kind of story. Not rare in the content, but rare in that only 4 other people know it. And now I tell the world.

Before I start know that I do not tell this tale to beg sympathy or condolence. This is catharsis, just a story I feel it is time I let go of and tell.

And so we begin….

Long ago.. when I was still a young man I met a girl. I had not been a dom for more than a year at the time i met her. She was the same age as me.. beautiful… and a sub. Well foaks.. you may think you know where this is going… but you are only half right.

We started seeing each other… playing.. and like young men are oft to do… i fell in love.

We were together night and day. And eventually got an appartment together. She was moody.. and bratty.. and i loved her fiercely.

We lived this way for a year, jobs came and went.. I worked hard to try to be the best of me… for her.

And then the fateful day came.. she was late.. and the test was positive. At first I was in shock.. we were so young.. not stable.. oh.. but a child.. with the woman I loved. I was filled with joy.

My child… mine… I vowed our child would want for nothing..

I worked hard.. 2 jobs.. extra shifts… then came home and cooked whatever she was craving that day.. I walked many a night at 3am to the corner store for ice cream, or a particular kind of snack.

Her belly grew.. and so did my heart.

I was working the day she went into labor.. my boss was a… well.. let’s just call him strict… and would not let me leave work. So I quit… took 2 buses and a cab across town to the hospital.. my chest felt about to burst… I was going to be a father!

I thought about skipping forward a bit.. skipping over some of the pain.. but no.. we continue.

I was asked to wait in the waiting room. I thought it was a bit odd.. but of that was what she wanted I would gladly do that for her.. hours pass.. then the word comes.. I have a son! I was overwhelmed. I wanted to see him.. to see her.. but was told they were resting and that I should go home and come back in the morning. In hindsight, I should have known something was not right.. but I was filled with joy and did as I was asked.

In the morning.. the call came… she cried as she told me… the child was not mine.

She told me everything.. how she had cheated.. again.. and again.. how she would go next door to have sex with our neighbor while I walked to the store at 3am.

How she didn’t even know who the real father was… oh how she cried.

And my heart died.

And I forgave her.

And she left me.

It took me years.. to recover from this. My good friend who I call my brother says he never saw me smile for 5 years. Ever so slowly I gathered together the peaces of my shattered heart and mind.. and with time and will.. put myself back together.

But there are scars. Some small peaces I may never get back.

And now you know.. now the story is done.

Do I feel better for the telling? I dont know… but I felt it was time.. time to let it go.