Idle no more. A poem against assault and abuse in the community.

Twas a dark and snowy night,
I had circled the date,
Before I could join my friends
At the littles’ playdate.

Mostly excited,
Slightly apprehensive,
To most of my friends
I must’ve seemed pensive.

Although today I received
Some bothering news,
If I told my husband,
he wouldn’t be amused.

I have this tendency
Of making myself a target,
To a lot of predators,
I’m like an open market.

I was assaulted once,
But didn’t learn my lesson,
Because it seems that my heart
Doesn’t want to hear reason.

I like to keep things private,
As I think we all should,
Unfortunately this time,
I tried all I could.

The slogan “idle no more”
Comes to my mind,
Probably because
We’re of the same kind.

We were told to keep silent,
So that the peace could be kept,
While they walked around parading,
we silently wept.

This site is not different
Than regular society.
You can stop the abuse
Even if you are propriety.

Who are you to tell me to take the stairs? (On ableism)

Ableism: discrimination or prejudice against individuals with disabilities (Merriam-Webster, 1981)

Sorry if this sounds like a rant, but I gotta get this off my chest

For those who know me well, you will know I’m the first defender of people with disabilities. I have urinary incontinence, which is a disability. I am also deaf (with a cochlear implant), which is another disability. I’m used to advocating for myself, and explain to my friends what my needs are. I’ve never had issues with my friends and they’ve been very accommodating.

Strangers… well not so much. Although there are laws protecting people with disabilities, sometimes people just don’t care. People don’t always let people with disabilities use priority seating in the transit system, for example.

Lately I’ve been dealing with something new. I’ve always had bad joints… it’s a family thing. My mom has been declared invalid 4 years ago at the age of 45. She has a rare disease named ankylosing spondylitis, which is a chronic inflammation of the axial skeleton and affects all joints. Think of arthrosis and arthritis put together, times 100. Why am I talking about this? Because it’s highly hereditary and I am most likely to be tested positive too now that she finally got a diagnosis (after 4 years).

Now when my mother first got sick, I was told that it was most likely a genetic condition I could have too. I used to do tons of sports. I did soccer, basket-ball and kin-ball (look this one up it’s worth it!). I was also a ballet dancer. I stopped everything. And I mean EVERYTHING… overnight.

With every sports there are risks of injury, and I had my share. I broke my ankle during a hiking trip, sprained both my ankles doing ballet, hurt my joints real bad multiple times… and I tore both menisci in my knees.

Now that’s an old sports injury that just went untreated. I mean, you can only repair it with surgery and well, I hate hospitals. I managed pretty well until last year when I started going out more. Going up and down stairs is pretty intense on the knees. Sometimes my knees would hurt at the end of the day. And I mean, I was fine with it and didn’t really mind nor complain about it… I just started taking stairs less.

Elevators have always been tricky. I’ve always felt bad for taking the elevator for one floor. I would try to take the stairs to not be an inconvenience to the people who have to go 8 floors up. If there’s an escalator I’d always take it first before calling the elevator.

Today, at school, the escalator was broken (it has been for 3 days). For the last 2 days I’ve taken the stairs, grunting. Yesterday my knees have been hurting more than usual and have had repercussions on today, meaning I woke up with my knees hurting already. So when I got in front of the broken escalator I decided I was not taking those stairs. I located the nearest elevator (luckily it wasn’t far) and waited for it.

There was a line waiting to get into the elevator, and people were chatting. There was a young girl, maybe my age (I still consider myself young!). There was a couple, the guy looked Indian of origin and the girl was Asian. I smiled at them. There was an old man walking with a cane, probably a professor getting to his class.

The elevator doors opened. People walked out of the elevator, we all walked in. As I got in front of the left-side panel, I see lights going up. 8-3-7. We were at the subway level and I needed to get to the ground floor. I felt myself becoming uncomfortable…

I’d usually wait for people going up and when I’d be up there I’d push the button and go back down, but today I was getting late for class and I had missed the two previous ones. I pushed the ground floor button and waited.

When the door opened seconds later, I walked out, but not before hearing a voice behind me. “Next time, maybe you should take the stairs!” said the old man. The door closed before I could say anything. I felt a tear coming. I tried to fight it.

Why was I feeling so bad? I was in pain, needed the elevator and took it. I needed to go to another floor. THIS IS WHY THERE IS AN ELEVATOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!

The man was walking with a cane… I had hoped to find an ally in him, not an enemy!

He should understand, no?

I don’t like to classify disabilities, but sometimes I think, maybe selfishly, that hidden disabilities are the worst. I shouldn’t be questioning whether or not I should have taken the stairs. I shouldn’t be feeling bad for trying to accommodate myself and my needs.

In the end, I’m on a waiting list for knee surgery, but in the meantime, I shouldn’t have to justify my usage of elevators to anyone.

A year later. Growing up and stuff.

Last weekend it marked a year since I’ve met my first ABDL/Little who wasn’t in the mirror. And as I like to do each year usually in my vanilla life, I like to review what happened in the past year but this time, with a kinky twist.

First the shyness, I was gonna go to my first munch at the end of February but choked out on it, being to scared of being judged or worst. I was so scared that during that day, even though I could only think about the munch that I missed, I decided to write to the only other active girl in the Montreal Littles and Ageplayers (at the time, it was a smaller group).

At that point, my nickname was Baby_Lily. That’s how I felt then, I felt like a baby opening up to this new world in front of her eyes. That quickly changed, after meeting “the boys” (the other two of the fantastic four), I changed my nickname to LittleMiss_Lily, as I was already ready to take charge and I felt powerful.

After my first encounter with the other fantastics, we started a skype chat for our group which is still active today. We would tell each other everything and eventually I invited them over to my parents’ house (who were away at the time) for a sleepover party, not realizing that I invited people to my first “playdate”. I still remember how much fun I had that night making a blanket fort, watching movies, falling asleep during movies, waking up covered in plushies…

And then came my first munch. I had a panic attack that morning but the other 3 organizers were right by my side and well… I was their ride so I HAD to go. And I remember how much fun it was even though I was shy in my corner and spent most of the munch colouring with another girl.

But then I drank the kool-aid. I was overly excited about everything and jumped with both feet into the BDSM community with a thirst for knowledge, and play. I tried pretty much everything I learned about, from spankings to fireplay to needle play to breathplay. I’ve tried having one sub, then another one, then I had a protege as well. I was going through play partners like I was going through diapers.

Then I was diagnosed with bipolar type 2 disorder (which ended up being a misdiagnosis… I’m only ADHD!). And I hit a wall. I started to take extremely numbing medication that made me stop pretty much everything BDSM related. I wasn’t really ageplaying either other than diapers but that’s for a medical reason so yeah…

Then school started, and my life became very hectic. I was running around like crazy, and didn’t have much time for a personal life. My fiancé became my priority. Then we got married and as the Starks predicted, winter came.

Life takes you all sorts of directions when you’re married. Especially when you met the guy less than a year prior to said wedding. He is my rock, my lifesaver, my lighthouse when I’m weak, drowning and lost. We went through a lot together and I’m glad I never have to face hardships alone any more.

Then we got a goal, our goal was to move to Toronto in order to join our friends, by that time I was PrincessLilybear, the princess in the far away castle, missing her big sister lots and lots and going to the greater Toronto area every month to keep my sanity and to join on the playdates there too. I made a lot of friends in the area and we decided that it was where we both wanted to live.

At that time, my ageplay and my vanilla life were already blending a lot. I was know in school as the girl with the pretty bows, or cute dresses and toys all around (I did a presentation in grad school with a puppet!). Then my friends at Ubisoft introduced me to Aurora, and to the magical world of Lemuria, where, I was told, a little girl that looked a lot like me went on a legendary quest. (And that’s all I can say about that without breaking non-disclosure agreements) As I was playing through this game, it made me realise how many of my own quests I went through and finished successfully during that year and then took on the nickname I have today, LittleAurora.

As I’m now in my cruise speed when it comes to kink (where nothing floats but ageplay), I’m realizing that I’ve grown a lot in the past year. Went from baby, to toddler, to princess. And then I went back to toddler princess, and now to baby princess (although if you ask me I’ll deny it) but still a little more mature than a year ago, almost day to day.

I’m cleaning out my closet

I’m sorry mama, I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you cry but tonight, I’m cleanin’ out my closet.
- Marshall Mathers (aka Eminem)

So tonight I’ve decided to write this post, because I’ve been going through something difficult for the past few days that led me to a self-discovery that totally changed my world.

For those who’ve known me for a while, you know that I am married to the most awesome Daddy in the world (at least in my world). For some of you with whom I had deeper conversations you also know that I like girls. I have admitted that I was once engaged to a girl and I’ve identified as bisexual on FetLife for a long while.

I went through a breakup recently. Without giving too much details I was dating someone, trying to see where it was leading me as I had a deep connection with and being polyamorous, I was opened to exploring a more romantic relationship with this person.

Now, the reasons of the breakup have nothing to do with this post, but it lead me to question myself, as most life-altering experiences have led me to do.

One of the questions that came to my mind was: Was I really polyamorous? Could I really have more than one relationship? Was it for me?

That answer has been easy to answer because I had other relationships before that were poly, and I have been able to have crushes or fall in love with more than one person at the time. And I believe in polyamory.

Now that led me to the next question: What attracts me in a partner?

That was a question that had to be split into two, because of gender (although I do believe gender to be a continuum and that I have pansexual friends, I identified as bisexual when it comes to my relationships).

What attracts me in a guy?

Well I had the perfect example, having my awesome husband and Daddy, I’ve been looking for others like him but couldn’t and that was troublesome… but I didn’t know why.

What attracted me in a girl?

Now… a lot of things did, and I had tons of examples of girls whom I’ve been attracted to… and I’d say they all had their little thing and I couldn’t make a list of things.

Wait… something’s wrong here!

I was only attracted to one guy but have been attracted to lots of girls! What does that mean?

I had a lengthy discussion with Daddy about it, I needed an outside opinion.

We had talks about the Kinsey scale, my idea of bisexuality, what being straight meant, what being gay meant (in my mind), then we talked about queer as a sexual orientation, and I felt that nothing fit really.

The Kinsey scale goes from 0 to 6: 0 means you’re exclusively heterosexual, and 6 means you’re exclusively homosexual.

Now in my head it meant that 3 was being bisexual because that’s the middle of the scale.

While I was talking with Daddy, we came to the realization that I was… a 5.

It meant that my Daddy was like… a statistical anomaly… and that I was mostly gay.

Holy … (insert 4-letter word here)

Hey that means… that I’m what here???

Looking at the FetLife choices of sexual orientations, the notion of “flexibility” appeared as a choice. The notion of flexibility in orientation (either homo- or hetero-) meant that you’re mostly one but have “exceptions”. Now it could vary from kissing girls at parties, to having sexual partners of the same (or opposite) gender. But was I married with flexibility?

Well heck, why not? I guess I am homoflexible, and found my flexible exception!

So yeah, I guess that’s my “coming out of the closet” post (for the most part!).

Why my Daddy took me to school and picked me up, and why it is sexy!

Sooooooo, you might have read the writing I posted this morning about triggers.Warning: This post might be triggering for you.

Here is one of mine. I am afraid to use public transit. That is because in 2009, I was sexually assaulted, beaten up and left for dead by an armed man that had followed me from the subway to the bus, to the alley I used as a shortcut to get home.

I haven’t taken transit since… That is, until I decided to face that fear as a New Year’s resolution and took the Toronto transit on January 1st. It was a different experience for me although quite similar, as the assault happened in Montreal.

My Daddy and Big Sister took me on the subway there and then I tried taking a streetcar (never been in a streetcar before). I was very very scared and had my eyes closed for the most part of it, but it ended up being fine and I was very proud of myself.

Now, I would prefer to use my car but the parking at my school is ridiculously expensive. My Daddy and I decided we would try taking the Montreal subway to go to school to save money.

Now I was really scared… but, the whole time he was there, holding my hand and took me to school. And when I was done with my class, he came to bring me home, still holding my hand, making sure I was safe.

And he’s planning to do it until I feel more comfortable taking it by myself.

And that, my friends, is what being a Daddy is all about. He makes me want to face my fears, and he is always there to catch me when I fall.

And that is sexy!

Triggers: What they are, and what to do.

I am not the author of this. The original post can be found here.

This is NOT my story. Rather a really good explanation of what triggers are and what to do about them.

I want to talk about triggers. A few days ago, I posted on Facebook about something that was triggering to me. I specified that I had been triggered. I was surprised at the response I got. Many people argued with me, told me I was wrong and that what had upset me was good and necessary, and even gave graphic descriptions of why it was so necessary (which was another exercise in being triggered). After things calmed down somewhat and I reiterated that I was being triggered and upset by their comments, I had one person mention to me that the had never heard of a trigger before: they didn’t know what I was talking about and so they didn’t understand that what they were doing was going to hurt me.

I was surprised. I live in a context where trigger is a common word. But I needed this reminder that it’s not something that everyone knows about, and that intelligent and well informed people may still need some explanations. So with that in mind, here’s a primer on what a trigger is, some basic do’s and don’ts of how to react to someone’s triggers, and a brief description of what it feels like to be triggered.

A trigger is an intense, uncontrollable, emotional reaction to something. It is typically a term reserved for someone with a mental illness because it is more than simply being upset or bothered by something. Triggers generally are related to past traumas that have left your brain impacted in some way. This means that when you see or hear or experience something that is a trigger, your emotions completely take over and you are in extreme, intense distress almost immediately. In its immediacy it is similar to an anxiety or a panic attack, although unlike those it doesn’t require that the individual react in certain ways. One could react to a trigger with a panic attack, but one could also react by sucking it up and dealing with it (which is what people are often expected to do).

A trigger is not the same as throwing a temper tantrum over something small, although it might appear to be so from the outside. It is also not weakness or simply being “oversensitive”. To take a parallel from physical health, let’s imagine you had broken your ankle. A trigger is like those elements of the ankle that never heal, only in your brain. Triggers are indications of where trauma has injured your brain. Being triggered is somewhat like being kicked in a broken ankle. It hurts, it’s scary, and you cannot stop that it hurts and is scary. The fact that you might have a friend who would laugh off getting kicked in the ankle doesn’t mean that you’re wrong for being hurt. It simply means that you have different situations.

Triggers can be all sorts of things depending upon the difficulties that an individual has faced before. For a vet, it could be loud noises, or the sound of helicopters. For someone who was raped, it could be the color of the curtains in the room it happened. For someone with an eating disorder it could be talk of calories and dieting. Triggers come in all shapes and sizes and don’t always make sense from the outside, but they’re simply about what sets off certain scripts and chain reactions in your brain.

So if you’re around someone and they say that they’ve been triggered or that something is triggering, what should you do?

First and foremost, accept that they are triggered by what they say they are triggered by. Respect them to know their own mental health better than you do, and whatever you do don’t tell them that they’re overreacting, that they shouldn’t feel the way they feel, that it’s inappropriate or wrong to feel what they feel, or that they should be able to deal. These statements are all very invalidating of the experience of being triggered: a trigger is not an opinion or an argument. It’s not something you can disagree with or argue with. It’s an experience. That would be like telling someone that you don’t agree with how much it hurt them to step on their broken ankle. It simply doesn’t make sense to say. So accept what they have said, don’t argue with it, and don’t tell them it’s wrong.

As a corollary DO NOT intentionally trigger someone. It’s important to remember that you’re not doing anything edgy, heroic, cool, or badass by ignoring someone’s triggers. You are not telling someone that you won’t put up with bad behavior or temper tantrums, you’re not teaching them about how harsh the real world is, you’re not “just having some fun”. You are being intentionally cruel. You are looking at an open wound and deciding what you can throw in it to make the person scream. This is a sick exercise. Don’t do it.

If someone opens up enough to you to tell you that they’re vulnerable in a certain state, the best thing you can do is ask them how you can help. Validate what they’re feeling, tell them that it must be horrible, and then ask if there’s anything you can do to help them avoid things that really hurt them that way, or help them when they’ve been triggered. Different people need different things when they’re distressed, so asking them what helps them is very important. If at all possible, try to do this when they’re not in the middle of being triggered.

Remember that when someone has been triggered, they are not themselves. If they’re typically someone whose statements are open to discussion, typically someone who’s analytical and wants to discuss things, typically someone who can just deal with whatever life throws at them, know that those things may not be the case when they’re in this extremely vulnerable state. Remember that you might need to give them a bit more space, or treat them a little more gently than you typically would. If they don’t want to talk about whatever has triggered them, let that rest. If they don’t want to solve whatever problem has triggered them, let that rest. If they simply need to vent, let that rest. They’re hurting.

So all of this discussion has been fairly hypothetical, but I’d like to finish by giving you a concrete example of what it feels like when you’ve been triggered. I’m going to use the example that prompted this whole post because it’s the most fresh in my mind and because I’ve spent a lot of time reliving it recently so I feel it will be the most vivid and descriptive. (Note: there is a trigger warning for eating disorders on this)

Earlier this week I went to Starbucks. This was out of the ordinary for me, but I had a Starbucks gift card so I went to Starbucks. I walked in and looked at the menu and there, listed next to each and every drink was a calorie count. I felt my whole body involuntarily tense, my breath catch. I nearly turned and left the store, or bolted for their restroom. All I could think about was that I deeply wanted to stick my fingers down my throat and puke up everything I had eaten for the last week. I wanted to leave this store and go home and hide where I would not be tempted by food, where I could wait until my body shriveled away and passed out, where I could safely avoid food for at least the next week. All these thoughts ran through my head immediately.

I took a deep breath and shoved them away so that I could get in line. I had to go to work and I was exhausted. I needed some caffeine. I stood in line with my mind racing and racing. I had to get a small. I had to get the lowest calorie count thing available on the menu, even if I didn’t like it. NO, fuck the calories, I should get the HIGHEST calorie count just to prove that I can. Or maybe a compromise, maybe if I just get a small of what I actually wanted I’d be ok. No that wouldn’t work, it was a full breakfast worth of calories and I don’t eat breakfast. Breakfast is unacceptable.

I barely remember getting to the register and ordering something in a haze. It bothered me for the rest of the day, and I threw up a post on Facebook about how distressed I was. I got comment after comment about how calorie counts are necessary, about all the hidden calories in our food, about the obesity epidemic, graphic descriptions of the size and calorie counts of Starbucks drinks and how they were going to lead to death from obesity. I have not been able to stop thinking about calories and this incident ever since. I imagine I will never go to Starbucks again.

I’m worried about going to restaurants now, something I’d finally been starting to get over. I keep replaying over and over how much I keep eating and wondering how many calories are in each dish. I had stopped thinking about calories for a long time, and now they’re hiding in the back of my mind again. I’m terrified that my diet is entirely unhealthy, that I’m going to give myself diabetes, that I’m going to become obese and get heart disease. I have been unable to focus at work during an incredibly important time, I have found myself dissociating extremely badly, I have almost cried at work. I’ve been unable to sleep, constantly composing responses in my mind that justify why I was hurt, struggling to let myself eat, struggling against the impulse to self harm or to purge.

It feels as if my mind simply can’t shut off or won’t shut off because the most important thing in the world has presented itself: calories. And now I need to react, protect myself, run, escape in any way possible. That is a trigger.

P.S. For anyone who thinks that triggers don’t exist or are made up 1.Go fuck yourself and 2.There is a great deal of psychological research into the ways the brain is injured by trauma and how that affects the way someone functions for the rest of their life. It’s real. Figure out google and find some articles.

Pony personality

It’s funny because I did the same test a year ago.

It’s a little test on the Internet about which My Little Pony character you are.

My friends pegged me as Pinkie Pie because I was just crazy hyperactive and silly.

I have always been sure that it wasn’t the case but it grew on me.

Then I started taking medication for a mood disorder I got diagnosed with. And then my “real” personality came out I think. The one who is actually the introvert I am.

So just for the fun of it… I redid the test:

You are: Fluttershy

While you tend to be a bit of a “delicate flower”, you have inner strength just waiting to blossom. First of all though, you need to build up your confidence- because you can be far too insecure with yourself. But there are many positive elements to your sensitive side too; for starters, you’re a real sweetheart! Without fail you’ll do your best to look after a friend in need and care for them with all the love you have, and with your softness, gentle nurturing and peace-making ways you can help relax anyone in a crisis. Some would say you’re as sweet as honey!

What do you guys think?

This one time at Ageplay Camp… (Or coming to term with mental illness)

As some of you might have noticed (or not, I wouldn’t blame you really), I’ve been inactive in the kink community lately… No more workshop, no more play (except for a very few exceptions).

The reason for this is that I am trying to come to term with a diagnosis I’ve received lately.

I’ve tried to apply this the same way I deal with kinks… Telling myself that my diagnosis is not their diagnosis but both of our diagnosis are okay.

Unfortunately that is not the case I think…

I used to think I had anxiety issues, that my freakouts were panic attacks and that I was prone to have depressive episodes but that otherwise, I was the life of the party and that I was a pretty awesome person to hang out with.

I would be the spontaneous, impulsive and sometimes compulsive girl that made your life just a little more interesting. And if you couldn’t live with it, your loss and it would be mostly your fault.

Then I went to Ageplay Camp…

It happened in May, and I remember that at the time I was still very much new to the kink world. I started in ageplay and fantasized a lot on the discipline aspect of it, being the receiving end of spankings and the likes. I had recently met le_fou, who was also new to BDSM but well versed in the ageplay scene and even though we were both littles and subs at the time we really clicked in the vanilla sense and we started dating.

We decided to go to this camping trip in the Ottawa region called Ageventures. It was organized by the Ottawa AB/DL/BF group and both le_fou and I were very excited to go. I was pretty nervous to go to my first kink/ageplay related event but at the same time I felt very hyper too.

A little background info is needed here… Even if I was new to this whole thing I approached it as I would any school subject… I’d read everything I can about it. Books, websites, blogs, articles, etc. Anything I could find on BDSM/Ageplay I would read. To the unknowing eye, I could probably pass for someone with experience in BDSM but before that camp I never spanked or got spanked by anyone. I had a little experience with rope as my good friend Andrew_Mtl showed me knots beforehand but that was really it.

When we got to this camp (with too much food, too much luggage and too much energy), le_fou and I split up in different rooms (since we had recently been dating I thought it’d be more appropriate to bunk with another girl for that weekend).

And then I started to drink…

Now really my alcohol history is easy to tell… I don’t drink anymore, because I drank to much in the past. That’s it and that is all. At camp the goal was to drink because everyone else was doing it and really… I needed the liquid courage.

And then I started playing and ‘scene’ing and being overly social.

Even some of my closest friends didn’t know until now what happened then. I cannot tell the story from someone else’s point of view, but only from mine. Here is what happened on the first night:

I scened with another girl, I was spanking here with a paddle that I had bought one week prior. It was a lot of fun and I felt so excited that I wanted to share the fun with everyone… and so I was letting whoever wanted to spank the girl do so (while she was tied up and basically helpless)… MISTAKE #1…

The girl was my bunkmate and I didn’t see her come to bed that night… I should have known something was up but was too caught up in my own world to notice.

The next day, I was still on the high from the previous night and still drinking as well so basically I just roamed around cuddling people and trying to make friends. During that day I started getting friendly with one of the guys and we agreed to play Daddy/babygirl for the event. That was lots of fun and I got the chance to explore one of my fantasies at the time which was a public diaper change. My mistake was to assume that everyone would be okay with it and that letting him ask people if they were okay would let me think that everyone was consenting to have it happen… MISTAKE #2…

Then afterwards, on the second night…

I wanted to do a scene with the girl I played with last night… or at least have her participate as we were getting really friendly and I thought that she was an awesome person. Because she wasn’t the spanking kind (and more of a spankee) I asked her if we could ageplay as some sort of aftercare. She said yes. So I played with this other awesome girl and after the scene, lots of people came to provide aftercare. About an 45 minutes (maybe an hour later) most of the people who were involved in said aftercare left to do other things and I thought that it would be time for me to do the “ageplay aftercare” part with the first girl.

But what happened is that she had also left.

I must say at that point that I had a strong feeling of abandonment because I didn’t really know why she left and didn’t realized that so much time happened between the scene, the first aftercare and that time. To be honest I wasn’t there at all and totally irrational. (Mistake #3)

In my state of psychosis, I dragged down people with me for hours on end and became physically ill. (Mistake #4) The first girl never came back but who would blame her? I was really not in the state of mind to do anything!

In the end (at 6 in the morning), everyone was pissed and just wanted to go to sleep, but some were scared for me as I was still not out of my crisis. After they got me to sleep they went to sleep as well (most of them with massive headaches).

The next day was hard because at this point everyone knew what happened the night before and it was also packing day as we had to leave before 2PM. Some people were taking sides and blame was randomly assigned but in the end people left the camp mostly thinking that’d be the end of it.

Now… as I come to realize fully what happened at that moment in time I realize that if I hadn’t had this psychotic episode none of this would have happened.

I’m not the kind of person to live with regrets, but I think it wouldn’t be right for me to try and seek forgiveness of the people I have wronged and to make amends for my mistakes. I have been diagnosed with a personality disorder for which I now take medication for. It doesn’t excuse for what happened but I hope it will prevent things like this from happening again.

It’s not pretty, but it’s my life. I have an illness that I am working on accepting, and manage. I hope I can be forgiven for my mistakes.

vanillabeans, I am sorry for how I treated you then, and since. I hope someday you can forgive me.

Bombshellkitten, I am sorry that I dragged you down that night, and afterwards. I am also sorry for the things I said in my moments of frustration.

akanboryu, I am sorry I placed you in an awkward position and that I forced you into a situation that was not yours to be in.

FoxCubby, I am sorry for the times I’ve expected and/or forced you to pick sides.

le_fou, I am sorry that you had to be witness to my mistakes, that you were forced to take part into this situation and that you lost friendship opportunities because of my illness.

To conclude… TOMKAT is coming in less than 2 weeks… Another Ageplay Camp… where I will see again these people (some for the first time since) and have to interact with them.

I have one wish… and it is that the past can stay in the past. That we can work towards a better future and that even though I expect you to hold me accountable for my past mistakes, that it will not prevent you from seeing in me the best of intentions.



Who am I?

People tell me I’m a Little, a Mommy, a Brat, a Sub, a Domme, a Slave, a Mistress, a Sadist, a Masochist, a Rigger, a Rope Bunny… a Switch.

I told myself I was a Little, a Mommy, a Brat, a Sub, a Domme, a Slave, a Mistress, a Sadist, a Masochist, a Rigger, a Rope Bunny… a Switch.

I’ve been a teacher, I’ve been a student.

But now I figured out who I am.

I’m a Little… that is true. I am a little most of the time. I’m a true inner child.
I can be a Mommy… but I need the right little… which I already have.
I can be bratty, only if you’re not giving me what I need.
No way in hell I can be a sub… I’ve seen others do it and admire them but it’s not for me.
I am definitely a Domme. I am a Domme most of the time when I’m not little. Some people call me Princess because I act young but they follow my orders to the letter.
My boyfriend acts like a slave. I could never do what he does, that is for sure.
I am a Mistress, to a pet and my boyfriend. That is true.
I’m definitely a Sadist, and a Masochist. I do to others what I want to be done to me. I guess that Jesus guy would be proud!
I love bondage, to be in it or to do it. Rigger or Rope Bunny count me in!

But am I a switch? When my main roles are so polarized. I cannot be a sub nor a slave… but I can be a little. Is that being a switch? I don’t think so.

Oh well. Guess I am a Domme after all. My Mentor and Ima should be proud, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!

Some, most, one, all. One collar to rule them all!

Dear Diary! giggles

It’s been a while since I wrote things here… I mean, other than the controversial stuff and all… It’s been a while since I spilled my guts out, talked about MY story.

I recently labelled myself as a switch. I’ve discovered recently that I enjoy giving pain a lot, and dominating people in general. Even though I much prefer being a submissive to SOME… I can be a dominant to MOST.

In terms of my ageplay though… it’s the opposite! I can be a Mommy to ONE… but a little girl to ALL.

What does that make me? The reason why the relationship status “It’s complicated” has been invented.

When I go to BDSM play parties… I’m treated like a princess (literally). But then when I go to birthday parties… I’m just one of the kids. And I’m fine with that!

I’ve learned to know that the Kink World isn’t as black and white as I thought it’d be… And it has definitely more than 50 shades.

Where does that leave me? I’ve recently been collared by my boyfriend. Yup! Boyfriend with the proper grammar/capitalization. He’s not my dominant, yet not my submissive either. I take more charge in our couple but he is in charge of other things too. It’s like a vanilla with benefits relationship…

But why the collar?

Simply because the symbolic of the collar means a lot to us. It’s a tie that binds people together. We are tied together. We love each other. We are life (vanilla and kinky) partners.

How do you factor poly and collar?

I. HAVE. NO. FUCKING. CLUE. YET… I’m not all-knowing and yes, I can admit that there are certain bridges I’m willing to cross when I see them.

So how do I approach you in terms of protocol?

Like you would approach any decent human being… by presenting yourself, telling who you are and if you really feel protocolish… Then treat me like a Domme… They somewhat get more respect… lol!

I’ve recently been a guest to The Big Little Podcast (episode 82: New to Ageplay).

It was interesting to interact with other newbies… because even if I’ve became somewhat of an expert in Ageplay really quickly (4 months) and that I’m the Montreal reference in Ageplay (giving workshops and all)… I’m still new to all of this!

I still make mistakes and as my brother remind me this morning… I’m allowed and expected to make them… just because I’m new and it’s a fact… newbies make mistakes… that’s how we learn!

All in all… right now life is good, and I’m sure going to enjoy it while it is! :D