There is a known psychology which says there is the public self, the private self and the absolute inside self..the secret self which is only known by each of us inside. It is made up of our thoughts, our secrets and our dreams.
My secret self spills out on these pages, certainly my private self does. In these pages my public self is exchanged with my secret self. A crowd of hundreds knowing my secret and private selves but not my public self. The is only two people visiting here who know my public self (secret to everyone else) are Local D (Sir) and Daddy (Marvellous Mentor).
On the street I am not recognisable as the slut I am here. No one can see my knickerless bottom. I never say cunt out loud except perhaps with Sir when he pushes me to the point where I am a seething filthy mess and dirty slut for him. He told me recently that I did say it in those circumstances and I almost didn't believe him, I wasn't aware.
On the street I am a highly educated woman, self assured with responsible employment in a large public organisation. I am a mother of a not fully grown son. A son with model looks I am told. I am proud of his model looks but I am equally, if not more, proud of his intelligence and his compassion for human beings. His innate sense of natural justice, of right and wrong and of equity at such a young age fills my heart with pride and joy. I think I am a mother at my core. Everything I do is about supporting my son to grow..to be there for him. My work is part-time and I have remained at a lower level than I am capable of because He is my job. He is why I am here.
A few years ago I was told I had cancer (over the phone!) after a period of stunned silence, I raised my voice and almost shouted down the phone,
'...but I can't have cancer, I have a 5 yr old son!'
It was inconceivable that I might die and leave him to grow without a mother. Growing as that poor boy who lost his mother at such an early age. Never knowing how much I loved him. Never seeing him become a man. Never being able to protect him. I didn't die and I am watching him grow and keeping him guided and safe.
On the street I am a wife. My relationship is less conventional in the last few years than a lot of monogamous style partnerships. I am not actually married, but he is a life partner so this is what we call ourselves (husband and wife). I am a carer to my husband as he suffers a serious mental illness. This makes our life a struggle. I have accepted his adultery and grudgingly, his inability to care for his family. I struggle to accept his illness living in hope that things will get better, even as they continue to get worse and harder to manage. This is my public and private self and this is the life that I have kept secret in here. I have been accused of adultery as I don't fit the mould of the Judeo-Christian tradition (which apparently every one ought too). I chuckle at these abuses and the sense of the parochialism of these comments as I no longer believe that monogamy is possible in happy perpetuity, or possibly even a virtue in and of itself.
In all this I have discovered two men that are accepting of my public, private and secret selves. I am centered by Sir. I am cared for by Sir and Daddy. I am loved in a way that would not allow me to fall. I feel safe. I have not felt safe in a very long time. The ground beneath my feet has been one of shifting sands, there has been no solid rock, no sacred ground. Not until now.
|photographer unknown: source toptenthailand.com|