#kukris

Photographer H. D. Girdwood takes this photo, 24/(98), of 1/4th Gurkhas at kit inspection showing their famous kukris knives in Le Sart, France 

Ignis throwing the dagger may not be quite as impressive as the dagger kick (see that kick I posted here), but it’s just as sexy.

Nyx’s kukri’s are finished and available in our Etsy shop (link is in our about)

I’ve restarted a lot of things in life. Blogging. Jobs. Budgeting. Craft projects. A few friendships. Fitness regimens. There’s nothing wrong with recognizing something is wrong and choosing to start again. Lessons learned, refine, and try something new. 

But change does not always imply something is wrong. Sometimes, change just happens. Slowly. People change. Usually slowly, sometimes quickly. If we don’t acknowledge that, embrace it, and ride that wave wherever it goes, we’ll just be miserable. And I don’t choose to be miserable. 

Twelve years ago I met my husband and fell in love. Ten years of that was just a regular old heternormative-ish relationship you’d see anywhere. We had adventures, we did big ambitious projects, we knew each other better than anyone. 

Two years ago, we began transforming our relationship into a power exchange dynamic, and he became my Sir and I his boy. He was new to kink and BDSM, I was not, but we explored what it meant. It was something I always wanted. It was something he wanted to explore. There are so many different dynamics in that journey, so many ups and downs and lessons learned and psychoanalysis that would take me a couple of bottles of wine to explain it all. But it’s actually not that important right now. 

This year, we realized we are different people than we were twelve years ago. We weren’t entirely happy with ourselves, either. And while we tried to grow, twelve years creates a lot of bad habits—and a lot of baggage. We were getting in our own way. Our relationship was stagnating. We were two half people, each in our own way, each stuck in different ways. 

We agreed to take a break at the beginning of July. It was painful. But it was amicable. It was scary. But it was necessary. Necesscary. But if we didn’t take this risk, how much worse would things be? If we didn’t embrace the fact that we were stuck and needed something different, if we didn’t allow ourselves to be scared and invest in ourselves in a great big unknown sea of gods know what might happen, then we’d just end up hating ourselves and each other and if we were going to end we never wanted to end like that. 

So, a lot has changed. For the first time in our lives, we’re effectively on our own. 

But change is not starting over. Starting over would imply failure. It hints that somebody did something wrong.  It makes you think that I’ve lost everything. But I haven’t. Not even close. When you start a new chapter in a book, it’s not a completely new story. It’s the same story, building on what came before. That’s what this is, that’s where I am. 

This is an opportunity to explore and become exactly who and what I want to be. There are no responsibilities or opinions or preferences or budgets or anything outside of myself and my dogs. 

There is so much to say, so much that I’ve been thinking about over the last three months, a wealth of revelations, and thousand trains of thought intersecting and looping and crashing and aligning. New people in my life, a ton of work at my day job and nonprofit, a redecorated house, new ideas and places to explore. 

This site is my journal for the foreseeable future. I want to share the things I’m learning, the things I’m wondering about, the pain and fears and happiness and other stuff.