Back online

So after about ten months, I'm back online cam modeling.

I decided that the holiday season would be a great time to get back into it as I will have some time off from my day job, and of course, people need stress relief, myself included.

So I started the night before Thanksgiving. Wasn't the best night I've ever had, but not the worst either. Then last night, after the gluttony that is Thanksgiving, I logged on for the second time.

Had I more time, it could have ended up one of the best nights I've ever had. Multiple exclusives. Met nice new members. Even saw some old friends and members who were impressed by the changes in me.

Also got told by a self professed "Alpha male" that I stink of sub. When I expressed I'm not that submissive and he replied I'd "need to be broken," I told him with a smile that if he tried that I'd break his jaw. I'm no one's pet to be broken. That felt great.

Was really excited when I saw a favorite regular of mine from back in the day but I had a child emergency and had to log off to spend an hour cleaning up after the Wildflower Child had an accident. She got a middle of the night bubble bath and we sang songs and ended up snuggled up together with fresh sheets and jammies and it was lovely.

I have to work my day job tomorrow, but I'm really tempted to go online again tonight. I forgot how addictive performing can be.

So I'm not crazy...

There's this crazy thing that I only recently realized...

I'm not crazy.

I have some anxiety issues and occasionally my PTSD is triggered, but that's more and more rare the longer I am away from my marriage.

I'm actually okay. I have a wonderful wildflower child daughter. I'm dating a super sexy very smart and funny woman. I've been meeting men from the dating website and making great connections I hope last. And I actually really like my silly part time supervisory position at work.

And yes, I'm a survivor of too many things to count, but the point is I'm a survivor!

I like me.

And I'm not crazy.

No matter what my ex husband claimed. He's an idiot.

Child Support, Visitation, Dating, Desire

I really thought, naively, that life would be easier after the divorce.

In some ways it is, I don't live with him after all. But in others it is awful. I applied for and was granted child support. Which he can't pay. I've gotten multiple delinquent tax notifications thanks to my ex. I have to navigate visitation with him and trying to have a life without inconveniencing my parents.

And damnit I want adult time.

I've been dating a wonderful woman for seven months now and our time alone together is ridiculously limited.

And I was dating a nice, but conflicted, man for six months. I'm actually on an online dating site communicating with men looking for connections that make sense. Because I'm comfortably polyamorous, even though I don't have the time I wish I did.

Sometimes I wonder if my thirst for attention and connection is a result of long term isolation or inherent wiring. I honestly don't know. I do know that I get uncomfortable with the idea of being everything for one person or expecting one person to be everything to me. It doesn't seem fair.

And yes, I want sex.

I'm a healthy, young-ish, vital woman and I want to enjoy that part of my life. Alas being in my situation makes that very difficult. But a girl can dream.

The Ides of September

Today was a banner day in Kir's life. Today I had to sit across from my ex-husband in a very small room for the child support conference.

Because the divorce took place in Pennsylvania I don't know how it works in other states, but they actually warned me with official documents that filling for child support can put my life at risk if my ex is violently abusive, but I still have to be in the same room with him.

What. The. Fuck. People?

Luckily my ex is violent in subversive and subtle ways that never leave a bruise.

And I have an attorney.

It still sucked. Like epically. And my left eye is twitching so violently I'm afraid of developing stress induced Bell's Palsy.

And then I broke up with my boyfriend of six months.

Which was remarkably drama free because he completely understood that I couldn't handle his personal situation anymore. But still hurts.

So I spent an hour and ten minutes total on the elliptical machine. Haven't eaten enough. And really want to cry but it won't come.

Maybe some day someone will put me first.

Until then, I will try to take care of myself and the wildflower child and build a future.

An Alien, A Genie And A Witch

I wrote this poem a few weeks ago. And today, Robin Williams is dead and my heart is breaking. There is so much more to say. But not tonight.

My first true love was Robin Williams Watching Mork cavort and scamper
I was enthralled by his energy and glee
Not even the Fonz could sway my attention
And I believed our shared surname implied destiny

But I was fascinated by Barbara Eden's hidden navel
The strategically placed tassel drawing my young gaze
To that smooth midriff
And Elizabeth Montgomery and her twitching nose
Could have magicked me off to paradise

I have vague memories of the long brown hair of a girl
Who made my heart flutter, in kindergarten
And kissing a blue eyed boy
Under the wobbly merry go round in the school yard
In first grade

I didn't have the language to define
Or categorize my attractions in elementary school
I knew girls married boys so I would marry Robin Williams
And live happily ever after
While dreaming of Jeannie and Samantha

As I grew into high school, and my body
I found boys to be easier, though not easy, to approach
Girls were inaccessible goddesses guaranteed to crush me
So I surrounded myself with boys
And stole furtive glances at the girls

I kissed a girl for the first time in college
Her wild curls tickled my face as we grasped and grappled
My heart bursting with excitement and fear
Could I really please her?
Could she possibly find me beautiful?

A summer fling, a few one night stands
I was too self conscious and particular
To truly be with a woman
Not that I was better with men
Leaving random hookups and failed relationships in my wake

I married young, to a man, so I could be an adult
Thinking if I worked hard enough
I could make myself fit into that role
And be the perfect wife
And partner and friend

I will never be perfect
Even though I tried hard for 16 years
Stifling basic components of myself
In an attempt to appear
At the least, somewhat "normal"

When the marriage dissolved
I could finally be myself
With the confidence of knowing
I tried
And can now be honest
And not afraid

My girlfriend is smart and funny, sexy and beautiful
She says I'm sexy and smart and funny
Isn't threatened by my interest in men
And absolutely loves my daughter
Being with her is easy

I still think Robin Williams should have married me
Am impressed Barbara Eden could wear Jeannie's costume just a few years ago
And love Elizabeth Montgomery even more as an LGBT and Women's Rights activist

An alien, a genie and a witch
Showed me who I would be


As of July 14, 2014, I am divorced. A single mother. Living with my parents. Working a part-time telemarketing job. Thirty-nine years old and staring over.

I wanted there to be a huge feeling of relief, like angels singing or unicorns shitting rainbows, and for a few moments it was there. Then the exhaustion and realization that it won't be over while our daughter is a minor hit me. I have to apply for child support, which he more than likely won't pay. He owes taxes I need to get in and won't acknowledge that he needs to pay me in a reasonable amount of time. He calls twice a day, every day, disrupting our lives, just to make her say that he called because he loves her.

I just want to weep with frustration. I wanted to throw a party and revel in being done with him.

But I'm not.


I am very blessed in this stage of my life. I know this with all my being. My daughter is healthy and happy. My family took me in with open arms. I have friends coming out of the woodwork to encourage and support me.

And I'm lonely.

At 11:30 PM and 5:00 AM I'm reminded that there is not one person in this world who puts me first. I know I'm loved. And grateful for it. But I can't reach out in the darkness to find a person, or people, who will be reaching out to me.

My marriage taught me not to depend on a partner. But nothing can take away the yearning to be the reason someone reaches out. The people I care about and who care about me don't have the ability or desire to put me first. And most of the time I can understand that. But these dark hours grind away at me.

I've been fighting so hard lately to keep the fear at bay. And there are so many words of support. But no arms. No lips to kiss away the tears of shame and rage. Too many busy lives and primary obligations.

So I'll stare at the stars again tonight and listen to the breeze and traffic. And wonder if anyone is thinking about me tonight.

Coming to an end, and a beginning

I haven't spoken much these last few months as my divorce progresses. I've been afraid of jinxing the progress. Of angering my ex. Of everything.

The fear is still with me.

My ex only once admitted that he had been abusive to me. And then of course never acknowledged that again. The events of the past several days and the creation of #YesAllWomen has allowed me to open up about all my history of abuse, not only in my marriage but before and even after. And I'm trying really hard to shake off the fear and know that I will be free soon.

I am not alone.

I am not alone going through my divorce and raising my daughter.

I am not alone having survived childhood sexual molestation.

I am not alone having been roofied and raped in college.

I am not alone in that my husband abused me emotionally, psychologically and sexually for years.

I am not alone in receiving numerous unsolicited pictures of penises from men I met online in any forum; from chat rooms focusing on horror movies to dating sites.

I am not alone in that many men think they have the right to demand access to my body based purely on my womanhood.

And I am not alone in that I will not accept that assumption.

I will make it through this divorce. And I will go on with my life and be happy. Even if I'm not exactly sure how yet.

One Week

A lifetime ago one of my favorite songs was "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies. And that song popped into my head this afternoon as I realized it has been exactly one week since I told my husband I need a divorce. One week and just a little while since I found out he had been hiding his employment termination for a week. One week since I pulled myself together and got ready to go to work, knowing I was leaving our daughter with him and wondering what would happen when I got home. Which of course was nothing, but I was still stressed. In just a few hours it will be one week since I packed two suitcases, dressed my daughter in her warm fleece coat, got into the car and drove to my parents', never to call the house we've lived in since September 2005 "home" again.

A lot can happen in a week.

I've retained an attorney with my parents' help and have some paperwork to formalize that arrangement. I've changed my daughter's and my addresses with the postal service. I've done a lot of laundry. I've cried a lot. I did bring my daughter back to the house to visit for a few hours on Saturday and cuddled my cats. Which broke my heart. But I did find a home for four of them to go to when I have to move them. Still looking for options for the other five. I've gotten information for my husband on multiple apartments and some job opportunities and let him borrow the car to do some quick shopping on Saturday. I posted a long and hopefully gentle Facebook status on my personal page about the separation and divorce and specifically requested support and job and residential opportunities for my husband. And I called out of work for a week in order to get my head together and take care of my daughter as my parents went out of town for a long weekend.

And now, on the one week anniversary of the separation, I'm snowed in to my parents' house, still in my pajamas, exhausted to my bones and having eaten too much but feeling empty.

I want to sleep for a week.


After years of trying and being as supportive as I am capable of being, it is over.

Time for us both to move forward, work on being better individuals and co-parents but not partners.

Trying to get it together

So if you are a member or a follower or whatever, you know I haven't been on cam in, oh, forever. I couldn't get online because I was getting up at 5:00am to drive Hubby to work for about six weeks, and there were the nights he wouldn't go to bed at a reasonable time and I don't go online when he is awake out of respect to him, and there has been exhaustion and headaches. And then when I finally did try to get online, every time the camera connected a fuse blew shutting off all the power in my performance area.

It is like I'm cursed.

Unfortunately we are now down to 1/4 tank of heating oil again thanks to the super cold winter, and my husband still has $1400 of fines to pay in the next few months. So... I need to get back online. I'm just not sure how to do this with the fuse problem and the fact that it like 50F in my basement and I can't afford to turn the oil heat on to heat it.


I've also been really lax with my hoop practice and need to get back into that ASAP. But I ran out of Vitamin B2 which is part of my headache protocol and now I feel like shit.

So this is me whining and trying to get my ass in gear to make some money, get some exercise and hopefully feel better about myself and my situation. If you aren't into witnessing a pity party, feel free to keep on moving. ;-)

Going Bald For Charity

On March 15th, 2014, I will be shaving my head bald to raise funds for St. Baldrick's, a volunteer run charity that raises funds for childhood cancer research.

If you are interested in supporting my fund raising efforts, my participation page can be found here.

Not only is this a great charity and cause, but it allows me to start the year off with a complete change and a goal to give back to this world.

Any support at all will be greatly appreciated.

Starting 2014 off with a bang!

So I won the hoop. And Deanne Love of is now following me on Instagram. As are other professional hoopers.

I started the day off with the first tattoo on the first day of the new year by the same artist who did my chest oh so many years ago.

Then this evening I received the edited copy and release form for a story I submitted to an anthology about breastfeeding older children. Seriously a great start to the new year.

The suspense is killing me

I have entered a contest to win a hoop from a woman and company I really admire and seeing her like my entries is just killing me.

I really want that hoop.