Our Domestic Discipline Lifestyle

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The Key is Communication

Domestic Discipline is a chain of command lifestyle. Together we have organized our life to a rhythm or ideal that suits us. This lifestyle suits our needs and packages our lives neatly. Communication and discipline work hand in hand to unify us.


Communication is not my strong suit. I am not a talker. I prefer a white screen or pen and paper to communicate with rather than an interacting human conversation. There is a reason that this form of communication is most comfortable for me. As a child when I opened my mouth and exerted my ideas I was often wrote off as crazy, foolish or being wrong in my ideas because of my youth. Therefore instead of being chastised or criticized for my audible voice I found the secrecy of pen to paper much safer than the ridiculing ears of my elders.


I still find talking to a screen or piece of paper much easier than talking to my mate. I love my head of household. He does not chastise me or criticize my ideas. As a matter of fact he is exactly the opposite of my previous elders. He loves to hear my ideas and my voice, he appreciates my observation and ideas about life, spirituality, politics or folks we meet. Yet I do not find comfort in speaking audibly often.


So how do I communicate with him and how does this lifestyle work if I am not a talker. It did not work for a while. I chose to remain quiet and the feelings began to boil within. I became stuck and although I followed the rules and did as I was told my lack of communication brought out a demon within me.


I had to find my audible words. I had to stop stuttering and rethinking every word and blurt out my feelings and or ideas. I had to trust that I without rereading and editing every syllable of thought was capable of a true conversation. Domestic Discipline helped bring this work to a steady completion. My DH is the Head of Household but my communication with him must be audible it is a rule. I can not write my thoughts and ideas into a blog or a statue on Facebook and expect him to have time to read or wait for him to find my idea. I have to audibly tell him. That is my responsibility in this relationship I must talk.


His head of household position means he must have knowledge of my ideas at all times. Audible conversation is the only way I can timely assert my ideas and let him know my thoughts. We have found a way through Domestic Discipline to make my audible words a key to our marriage and lifestyle.


Guilty of Topping from the Bottom



I received a harsh spanking the other night. I was shocked. I erroneously thought this was foreplay, a warm-up spanking to kinky sex. I was wrong. My assumption was quickly corrected as DH continued to spank me with out the playful banter and rubbing that occurs during a spanking that is meant to stimulate.


I am a pretty good girl, I do not break our simple rules and I stay on the straight and narrow. I have had difficulty communicating and we have been working on that so spanking has been more frequent as of late. Since my non-communication to us so close to a breaking point and bringing about unwanted change in our dynamic.


DH came to a change in his dominance. He let me know how I top from the bottom and it will no longer be allowed. He has taken full charge now. Through my tears and listening to him with full attention on I have become completely aware of the error of my ways. This girl no longer just tolerates when DH touches and exerts his dominance throughout the day. This girl now stops writing or what ever I am doing. I smile and say Thank You making sure he knows I am gracious for the time he takes through out the day to ensure our dynamic and lifestyle. 




I have read two blogs this morning both about relationships. The first one was about growth in a relationship and communication. The second was about being in love and letting that love go. Both were in context of a D’s relationship. These blogs of course made for powerful thought and ideas.


I am having one of those days. The days where you just don’t feel very submissive, in all honesty I did not wake up feeling that way. It was triggered by DH and his cranky mood. He woke up uncomfortable and had to leave our truck early altering our routine. I admit it was nice to make coffee and have the control of the truck and the dogs to myself.


I told him he was channeling a grumpy old man very well this morning. He did not like my observation. He has though changed his demeanor some what and is in a better mood now. He also informed me that the dogs are getting a special treat later. This code means I will be put through the submissive paces tonight or later this afternoon.


I really expected to feel unexcited or disinterested about this proclamation. I expected to feel and think, “I am not wanting to be submissive”, but guess what I am excited and interested. My own mood changed immediately with his proclamation. I have switched back to being submissive to him immediately.


This is growth in our relationship. He switched off the grouchy old man and turned on the loving dominant. I turned off the rebellious bitch and became the loving submissive. It took just a moment. Are we suddenly listening to each other better? Did the past month of my rebellion lead to better communication between us? Did the journey, that almost tore us apart, actually make us stronger?


I believe that it did. Somewhere in the journey of not communicating at all to communicating exactly how we felt growth happened. I hated that month it was emotionally painful and terrifying. I am glad it is over, but I am so thankful for the lesson we both received from it.  


My Girl

“It is time to feed.” I called out to her. She comes to me not questioning. I sit at the foot of our bed. My breasts heavy with anticipation of her mouth, my nipples dance and begin to glisten with desire. I watch her disrobe but I stop her and tell her to leave on her garter, nylons and heels. Her ass looks heavenly framed by the lace and nylons her calves tight in her heels. She is a vision of sex and beauty.


She curls her form beside me, those fabulous long legs resting so gracefully upon the bed she faces me and lays across me. Her hair is long and beautiful. It lays across my knees as her mouth finds one of my nipples. I groan with pleasure as I feel and watch my magnificent creature feed at my breast. She closes her eyes and takes in all that is me, the warm flowing milk filling her. Her teeth bite and knead me softly as an orgasm builds within me. I stroke her long beautiful hair.


She opens her eyes to my gaze and I nod my approval to feed at the other breast that is waiting her warm mouth. She again repeats her actions and teases me with those glorious teeth. I admire the lipstick rings and teeth marks on my freshly drained breast. She knows her place and how to please me.


She looks once again into my eyes and I nod my approval for her to finish. My breasts now drained of the fluid that presses within them. Two lipstick rings on each with matching teeth marks I am satiated of my need to nurture my pet. She waits patiently standing now those long legs perfectly formed and framed within her stockings.


My hunger now must be taken care of her beautiful tight ass so inviting, so warm. “Turn around” I tell her and I admire the marks of my crop across her buttocks. Should I use the crop again so soon? I let my hand caress the marks and she shivers. “Turn around.’ I say again and she complies facing me.


“Kneel” I command. I lay back and hook my heels to the bed run. Opening my legs wide to my nakedness she knows what I want.


Gently she separates my lips with her fingers. Delicately probing with her fingers my inner self she finds my clit and expertly begins to work it with her tongue. To tease her I yawn loudly as though bored. She reacts by adding a finger to my inner walls and begins to toy with my clit harder and with added energy. Her skill at knowing my needs makes her my perfect pet.


Without cue from me she begins to nibble my clit between her aggressive tongue circling my pure womanhood. I feel her loose herself in her desire. She is now in her lesbian zone drinking our mingling juices, dipping her tongue and mouth to my ass and back to my clit. Running her tongue inside with her fingers, suddenly I explode in a beautiful orgasm. I flood her face and she works to keep up with the flowing glory of my orgasm. Her eyes smile with pleasure at the end of the experience she knows she has done well.


I pull her up to me she lays directly upon me as we kiss. Our bodies together massaging each other as we kiss with a passion of fire, we lay there her on top of me her weight and beauty flirting with giving me yet another orgasm. She takes the initiative now, knowing as my loving pet she is allowed such pleasure. She sits astraddle me. One beautiful legs on either side of my hips, I look up at my beautiful girl, her face still glistening from my wetness. I begin to massage her ass and I feel the welts of the crop. My mark upon her body and her soul, she smiles down at me. She is proud to belong to me and I feel her own wetness against my skin. She resembles a puppy waiting for permission for a special treat.


“Sit upon my face.” I instruct. As she moves her body up mine I stop her wetness over my breasts. I gaze at the shaved slit before dazzling in the wonder of her body. I caress her ass again and run my fingers inside looking up to the pleasure filled face of my girl. I cup my own breast and move a nipple into her folds where my fingers had been the sensation so warm and wet. I feel myself building another orgasm as I cup my other breast and move the nipple inside her. Watching with pride as her ecstasy builds, I let her continue her journey to straddle my face.


My nipples begin to harden as they cool in the air and her juices dry upon them. My fingers begin to pull her apart exposing her to me. I watch her expressions change as she moans with pleasure and with pain as my finger nails dig into her. My girl, my little pain slut digs her finger into and around the bars of our headboard.


She responds with a gentle rocking as my tongue finds her. I circle her ass with my fingers and probe her. She moans in pleasure as my teeth bite into her dainty lips and her rocking movement pulls them taught against my teeth. Increasing her pain sensation, she loves this. Her wetness is flooding my face and I quickly insert my tongue deep within her as she cries out in an earth shattering orgasm.


“Thank you, Mistress” She says softly.


Gently kissing me now cleaning herself from my face.

My Teachers Possession

The shackles on my wrists pulled my arms up and away from my back. A chain secure to them attached to the ceiling. My neck is secured by a posture collar and this too is chained to the ceiling. I am exhausted. I am beyond pain though, standing here as I have.

I agreed to this test. Silence, darkness no concept of time I have agreed to this test in a moment of lust. I had willingly accepted the shackles and the collar, although I knew not exactly what the test would consist of it never occurred that the test would be an eternity of stress. The temperature of my existence has change from comfortable to cold, from extreme pain of standing on my tiptoes to relieve my stressed neck and wrists. I have experienced defeat and victory to survive what I assume is a nighttime tested in extreme bounds.

I had cried, laughed and screamed during this time. My emotional torrent is exhausted now. I have nothing left. When my teacher returns will I be able to speak? I wonder will there be questions or duties or will I be allowed to rest? Is the release from these bounds the end of my test or will there be more? I entertain the questions knowing that I will not know the answers until my teacher returns. I have agreed to this test.

I did not hear footsteps or see a change in the darkness. All I felt was the change in atmosphere the change of complete solitude to the pressure of my teachers presence. I feel the chains begin to release slowly. My arms are released to rest the handcuffs on my corseted back. The chain attached to the collar though stays. I must remain on my toes, but I am able to shift my weight slightly. I say nothing. Listening instead waiting for words or sounds I am given none. The teacher’s presence leaves me and my atmosphere is yet again solitude.

I am alone in still darkness. No trace of time affects me now for time has no matter. The test continues and I stand alone. No pain just relief to shift my weight a little.

The teacher’s presence fills my space again. A looming creature in possession of my life now, I care not when the test will end. I only want to please my teacher. I have uttered not a sound, I have only shifted my weight a little and my reward is the release of the chain attached to my collar. I do not quaver my position instead I slowly bring my bare heels to the floor and I stand straight my wrists resting on my buttocks.

The teacher strokes my face but is silent. The hands caress the collar and then follow my shoulders, softly the hands find my corset and then gently caress the tight muscles of my ass. The hands move down my thighs and calves. Then the hands are removed from my body. I have no emotion to this sensation and my mind has enjoyed the caress, but I do not react. I stand still waiting for words, but there are none.

I do hear finally the gentle snap of a leash to my collar yet again. Curiosity stirs but yet again I want to know what is to happen, but I really do not care at the moment I am the property of my teacher. I hear a switch but I am still in darkness and a gentle hum of an electric motor begins to purr. I feel a straw against my lips and I gladly accept the gift of water. I drink just a few sips and the straw is removed from my mouth. I let it go willingly. The soft tug of the leash and I follow just a few steps forward and I am halted. My teachers hands instruct the back of my knees to kneel and a cushion of vinyl planks greats my knees and shins. I am led by my collar to lay upon another cushioned plank my body. My ankles and thighs are locked into place another belt secures my body to the plank across my corset. Then my collar is secured to the bench I am again immobile. My body exposed at the back This position has me opened for a purpose, but I dare not allow my mind to wonder.

I feel my clit being pulled from its protective folds of my vulva. My teacher is skilled in removing my clit from its protection. The teeth of the clamp I was not expecting, but I do not react to the sensation of my clit being stretch away from me and secured to the bench as well. The purr of the motor still accentuates this still place, but I do not wonder what is next, I am a possession, I have no will. I am the property of my teacher and my complete trust is that my teachers will is my destiny.

The intrusion of tip into my vagina is not human, I can determine that in that it does not give to my tightness. It slowly pushes it way inside me and then the next tip again not human pushes into my anus. I am double penetrated and the non human tips begin to spin inside me slowly burrowing deeper and deeper into me. I am being screwed literally but I do not have pain. Just pressure of the spinning tips inside my body.

The tip in my ass feels invasive I wonder if it will tear me apart will I survive this? This thought does enter my mind will my teacher inadvertently or purposefully end my life? Do I care? No I am my teacher’s possession and if my life is to end here I am happy for this test.

The tips quit the rotational screwing, apparently reaching the destination with in me. A moment passes and I hear another switch. The tugging of the tips exiting me and then the pushing of them entering me again each time a little further out and back in. My G spot is being tormented by the sensation of double penetration. I feel the build of a climax but I have self control and I know not to release the building orgasm. My teacher will tell me when and then the teacher leaves and I am alone again in room this time being steadily aroused by a machine.

The tips continue the task I build to orgasm over and over again but I do not grant my body the release. The pain in my clit a constant thought but it subsides and builds as do the orgasms. I am in complete control of my reactions, I refuse to allow reaction unless granted permission. The previous time in modified suspension giving me the strength to control myself did I dose during this time? I feel rested as my thoughts become clear. I feel euphoria of success though I release no pleasure. My power and strength are mine to give to my teacher. I am passing the test.

Some where in the experience of strength I missed the entrance of my teacher into my atmosphere. I am alerted to my teachers presence when the cane begins a familiar rhythm across my back. The machine continues it journey with the additional cadence of the cane. I do not react. I am silent, but the pain increases in my clit, I am my teachers possession and I will not fail this test. I am glorious in being the possession. I am fulfilled in this quest. I am complete. The machine is stopped and my clit is released. I feel metal and hear the cutting of my corset as it is pulled from my body. My breasts released from their bounds but my body still held motionless upon the bench. I am still exposed.

I feel my teacher behind me caressing my butt. I feel the eyes admiring my openness the machine has provided. I feel his fingers trace the marks of the cane and then the sensation of a human mouth exploring my most private places. This touch is hard to resist, the building orgasm within me almost to much to resist and as I hear the words, the command to release my orgasm, I almost miss the opportunity. Unbelieving the words I have longed to hear, my body responds into ecstasy and then complete exhaustion and peace.

“You passed, my dear.” The teacher says.

This is the phrase I have waited for. I know what my reward will be and I lay upon the bench waiting for the end of my journey. I am my teachers possession, my body is for my teachers enjoyment and I peacefully wait to finish my processing.

Submission and Assertiveness’ for Career How do you Balance?


I am having a big struggle with this. I have seen a lot of other submissive bloggers have this same problem. Therefore I already know I am not alone in this. My situation is a bit unique in I never wanted a career. I still don’t want a career. Survival though necessitates that I make money, so I have a career. The problem is assertiveness gets in the way of my submission.

I am a natural submissive. Submissive is my comfort zone. I am not a go getter, follow me or go to hell type of person. I am a follower. I have reached a point in my writing though that I have to be assertive. I have to put myself out there talk let folks know I am alive intelligent and someone they want to read. This means high activity on all social media. Working on my writing blog daily and talking to folks. Watching statistics being friendly, warm and out there.

How does that interfere with my submissive self? Well easy really. I am comfortable sitting back and being quiet. I am comfortable letting DH deal with people and him and I working together. In order to promote myself and my novel I have to reach out. I have to be active. I have to think and interact. I have to build a foundation of readers. After a day of being on the computer and being a people person, I am exhausted.

What I want is to be used. I want my DH to just use me hard and take control. I want him to take all the stress of reaching so far outside myself away. The only way I can communicate that need is to tell him. Since I am so far inside the internet I loose track of him and where he is with his day. The playful banter is lost between us and I don’t know what his mood is. So I don’t say anything for that reason. There is the other reason that saying I need you to man handle me is topping from the bottom and I don’t like doing that.

How do you handle this? What do you do to get past the demands of life to your submissive person? Do you switch it off easy or is it a struggle?

Can I Have a Spanking Please?

I never thought those words would ever come from my mouth, “Can I have a spanking please?” Have I lost my ever loving mind? I constantly ask myself with laughter in my heart and a growing need to be dominated.

I know I have not been posting like a good girl or blogger should. I beg your pardon for the spider webs and lack of prose this site has attained The good news is since my last post of fighting myself and feeling a terrible need to be punished. We worked through it. We have moved through it past it and have delighted in the other side of the journey.

I think after these past weeks, in which we did experience some stressor and a spanking or two was delivered for my bitchiness and sassy disrespect. I am no longer looking for reasons to give him to spank me. He comes up with plenty on his own.

I have also found my sense of humor again. I missed that part of me for awhile. I am back to teasing him and torturing him as we travel down the road. We both missed that in each other, so we are adjusting.

I think we both took for granite the big adjustment moving our lifestyle from a casual BDSM relationship to a full time Domestic Discipline Marriage would be. We took some good suggestions of keeping it simple and our rules are quite simple. So simple that I really do not cross the line very often, although this week I had a hard time and I did get punished but more about that in a moment.

What we took for granite was spankings would be easy. Easy for him to do and easy for me to submit to, we were wrong. When you switch gears from BDSM to Domestic Discipline the sadist/masochist relationship changes. I have always been a submissive, and he has always been dominant, but when you apply those to a marriage full time. The dynamic changes, you are no longer spanking for play you are spanking to enforce. That takes time to change.

We got through it though and we believe we are on the other side My topping from the bottom has come to a halt which I never realized in the BDSM I was doing. With Domestic Discipline the topping from the bottom became crystal clear. If I truly submitted to my husband I had to let him decide what was best. I had to sit back and be patient and let go. I finally got there. We found the boundary to playful teasing each other and this new dynamic. Life is better after a small struggle.

Now for my latest actual punishment and the story behind it; I am a writer. An unpublished author or artist, I have been working to change that situation for a long time now and never had the courage to send a finished novel into a publisher. Well with the encouragement of my husband and a few friends I finally quit fussing and sent it in. This took a lot of courage on my part.

Mustering that courage up and putting my confidence in full swing took some doing on my part. The experience rattled me to say the least I was edgy. I became a snappy, bitchy shrew. I think that description is a bit mild for my behavior. With my internal battle raging I was not much of a lover either. My sex drive to an all time low, you put that together with my attitude and snippiness and you have the recipe for an attitude adjustment.

I was definitely not being submissive or me I was so lost in the whole process. When my husband had finally had enough, which was well after I had completely submitted my book he gave me the talk.

We talked calmly about the situation, my mood, what all of it had done to me and us. Me in my not so wisest moments, when I truly do not think I deserve to be punished. I say, “I am just thrown off center having to go back into the corporate world in such a small scale.”

Thrown off center is my phrase for “Help Me” and help me he did. He did not go lightly either. We discussed my disrespectfulness. How my snippiness made him feel and my need to be submissive. He put it all in line with a good hard spanking that he took his time doing. It hurt.

I am better now. I am back to center. I have started a new writing project and I am picking up on my web writing responsibilities as well. So back to center I am. I will be posting on a regular basis soon. Probably this week you will notice a regular post or two.

Change in me by way of a friends death.

It is hot. Not the sexual energy type of hot. I am talking about the weather type hot. I received bad news yesterday. A friend of mine went to sleep Friday and never woke up Saturday morning. She was 45, my age, just gone in a blink. As you know I am a passionate person. My emotions run wild and my mind sometimes has trouble dealing with reality. This event in my life though has brought a semblance of sobriety.

I cried and I threw a bit of a fit when I heard. My emotions began to move up and down and all around. Then something snapped inside me. I thought about my friends life and I thought about her death. Jen, my friend, had just finished college and was beginning a job as a registered nurse. She was beginning a fresh start.

She was beautiful, healthy, loving, happy and smart. She was alone when she died. She was single with no children and she died alone in the night. Now that makes me wonder if she had not been alone would she be alive. I don’t mean to imply that she died of loneliness I am just saying if she had been sleeping with someone could her death have been averted. Could there have been a successful rescue of my fiend.

Don has saved me a couple of times from the grim reaper. He jokes how many times he has saved me. Both times have not been acts by my own hand. Both times have be medical emergencies that could happen to anyone and had nothing to do with my mental illness.

I am also thinking about the good my friend had to offer the world. How her life had meaning and should not have ended. There was still work for her to do as I see it. She could make anyone smile and laugh.

I spend a lot of time miserable. The stories I write are about women overcoming something. Always a hurdle or a cross to bare that is what I know. That is what my life has been. Therefore that is what I write about. My mind plays tricks on me while Jens mind was taking her to help others. She was happy I am miserable. She had an understanding with the world and I see ghosts and spirits menacing me.

I am confused with this loss. I don’t understand it. I want to be better and I am trying to be happier. Ignoring the fiends that haunt my mind, I will continue to write. The difference this death has caused me though is I am setting a goal to post positive happier things and live a happier life.

The Reasons for The Post Ugliness

I feel I should explain my earlier post. I am an eclectic soul. My talents vary and I fight for control sometimes of all the things that make me who I am. There have been times that the end of this journey to self control would be death. My moods roll about like a crap shoot at times. The story, “The Ugliness” is an illustration of how I feel about my mind.

Triggers are the spirit that controls my being. My triggers can lead to any one of the parts of me that exist within. Sometimes those triggers can be manifested in a dream, by a word or phrase, or by a random feeling. My DH and I live with me flopping around and he never knows whom he will wake to on any given morning.

That is why routine is so important in my life. Routine keeps me moving forward. I know exactly what to do next and the feelings or that ugly spirit that controls me looses control because I have duties. I have responsibilities and things to get done on a basic routine that begins my day.

Now not everyday can be exactly as the one before. Although that would be best for me I am certain DH and most sane people would get rather tired of the monotony of such things. Today we began with our routine and as our morning wound down and the difference of today began I was triggered. It was not DH’s fault. He was voicing an opinion to someone else that had nothing to do with me. Absolutely nothing, but his voice and sound made me feel he was unhappy and I internalized that to mean there was no way I could make anyone happy.

That in itself sounds crazy. The situation triggered my depression and eventually I was fighting the suicidal thoughts once again. When one believes everything is their fault it is a perfect solution to remove you from the world to make the world right again. I know this is not a sane person’s way of looking at life, but I never claimed to be sane.

The previous post gives you a glimpse of my life and how my brain works. IT also gives you an idea of how careful my DH is to protect me. Why there are so many steps and rituals to cover before he decides what is best in ttwd. He never makes a snap decision. He always takes time to evaluate my place and mental state before he speaks or takes action regarding my actions.

Domestic discipline gives him a benchmark and gives us a form to follow so to speak to handle these delicate situations that develop in my mind. He knows I am intelligent, he knows that if I was not fighting disease I could do or resume my previous role as a bookkeeper and business manager. But until there is a miracle cure of my curse we are working within these bounds very carefully.

Today he woke to the person I described in Ugliness. I was confused, frustrated and not rational. I was haunted and a simple action by him triggered all of it. We work daily to stop the haunting and win this battle over my mental illness.

The Ugliness

I am in a space. It is white no windows, no doors, no definition of a room just a space. A circle of wooden straight back chairs with forms occupying them. A single chair sits in the center this is my chair. I am sitting hands folded, patiently waiting. I can see the forms in the chairs are beings and these beings are all forms of me. Each is a little different but they are all me. The child, the teenager, the young adult, the mother, the caregiver, the matriarch, the daughter, the sister, the wife, the submissive, the entrepreneur, the nymphomaniac, the chronic depressive, the suicidal, the will to live, the quitter and the fighter. All of the many versions of me sit around the single me that is my body. Spirits, ghosts, of my past, my present and my future.

This place has no definition. This place has no agenda I am aware of this place is home to the many versions of me. A spirit though appears she is over us all. Floating about with crooked nose, warts and knots on her skin. We, the many forms of me, can see through her transparent form as she circles us. She is an elder or a leader. She controls my destiny.

Her transparent long hair flows behind her and her ugliness exudes from around her and I feel fear. She is my controller, my puppet master, she determines who will be alive and who will stay behind. Each day I begin my day in this room all the versions of me waiting for a chance to control my thoughts and my body. Sometimes I only have one version operating me and sometimes there are 2 or 3 fighting within me on the same day. We do not always fight sometimes she choose versions that compliment each other, those days are good. The days she chooses to put the conflicting versions together tears me apart and makes me sick. My mind cannot take the turmoil.

She still is swirling the air above and her choice has not been made. This ugly creature is evil. She hates me I can feel it. Her control over me is a game for her. She loves to watch me fight to survive when she puts Suicidal me with Chronic Depressive me and she takes me to the brink of death.

Today she chooses to mix my world and blind me to her choices. Geometric shapes begin to fill the room. They come closer and float out of reach moving away as quickly as the approach. The center me begins to feel very small and then very large as the shapes dance about me. Colors and Dots join in and begin to dance around me. I feel nothing in my heart but my stomach feels sick. Vertigo begins to rise within me and my hands feel num, big, clumsy. I am unable to touch or feel the objects around me. I can not place my fingers around the dancing items. My body grows large then small over and over increasing the sensation of vertigo.

I finally stop.

She has chosen the spirit of ugliness has decided my day. I begin my journey into today not knowing what parts of me will prevail. Then the trigger is pulled. The events unfold and I am greeted by chronic depression and suicide. My two worst enemies, the two parts of me can destroy my will. They can pull me under and I find I promote those that love me to hate my very existence.
The fatigue in my soul makes this day too surreal to move through. I want to give up I do not want to fight this again. I just want to close my eyes and let my life end.

I am full of frustration. I am angry my emotions run the rampant river of rage and self loathing. My self control is lost. This new place is strange as I see my children’s father across the room his new girlfriend next to him. There is a kitchen table between us and I stand next to my husband. The table is filled with can goods and bills. Everyday expenses of life, my anger builds inside me at the former lover before me.

I pick up the cans and I begin to throw them at him. I am strong. My anger rages within me and I am on a mission to end his life with the cans.

He screams in pain as I hit him. His girlfriend stands and watches unable to comprehend the scene.

He becomes coherent in his screaming, “Control that crazy person.” He says to my husband.

My husband reaches to control me and I fight him. Although my frame is small I have strength in my anger the adrenalin pushes me on. I pull away from my husband and continue to plummet my ex with the cans. Watching him begin to cower my heart finally feels vengeance. I feel relief that I have beaten him. I feel power and justified.

My husband again tries to control me. With the power of justification though I become weak, I begin to cry. The sadness envelopes me and I leave. I leave them all there in that room with my destruction. No one follows, no one tries to stop me and I continue my journey to end the control of the ugliness that enables my life.