Mar 31, 2013

Reflection over function

Today was a much better day than yesterday. We went on an outing, me and Mistress and little S and grandma and grandpa. We were outside almost all day, and I kept in the background and only interacted as much as I felt like, and slept in the car on the way home. I love that - to be able to come along and participate, but not have to strain myself and do more than what is really healthy for me.

A friend asked me the other day if I would always be like this, this tired and careful about noise and such. And I said that I didn't know, but that it was much better than six months ago, and that I think I'm still healing. Weird business, this brain thing. We don't have any pain receptors in the brain - unfortunately that doesn't mean it can't get hurt.

Of course I wish it would get all better. I have been in much better shape than this, I think. But I also think that the demands put upon a working/studying mother without a fortune in our society is something I'll always struggle with. There's always something to do, there's always demands, routines, people. Things that are supposed to be done at regular intervals, at an even pace. It's completely the wrong set of skills for me, and I don't think I'll eve be able to do them well.

So in a way I'll never get better. I'll never get well enough not to need special consideration, never well enough to be able to do everything people assume I'll do, to live up to this role I'm put in by giving birth to a baby and being born in this time and this place. I will, in that regard, always be a disappointment, a special case, a little less than others.

It makes me kind of sad and a bit afraid thinking about it.

But it makes me relieved to know and accept that this is so. The lifelong struggle of denial was much more agonising and frustrating. I don't have to judge myself by others yardstick any more. If I judge myself and what I can do in a more fair way, based on what I now know about my cognitive functions, then I'm both impressive and awesome.

I have a beautiful loving family. My wife loves me and wants me in her life forever. My daughter is pretty and talented and well behaved and funny and kind and seems to have a good life, and she loves us both and I'm pretty sure she knows she's loved, which is the most important thing.

Thanks to Mistress I have my drivers license. I live in a reasonably clean and comfortable home. We have a lovely dog that is well taken care of. And I'm about to finish a very taxing university program, and graduate as a psychologist in June.

And I have a handful of wise, warm, loving friends who knows me for who I really am, and who still likes me. My life is good. I'm good enough. And having all this, having accomplished all this, despite a brain that doesn't really work like other's do - that makes me not only good enough but absolutely awesome.

Mar 30, 2013

Easter breakdown

We're on vacation at my in-laws place. Four days without school nor job, with actual free time together, and not the least, with mother-in-law taking care of the kid from the time she wakes up at six until the time we venture downstairs, around nine thirty.

This morning we used the morning in bed to have glorious sex. It took us a couple of days before we had slept enough and spent enough time together before we got around to it, but it was definitely worth the wait.

And then, this morning, we had planted a surprise for little S. We bought her a bike last week, and hid it in the basement yesterday, with a string going from it and out in the yard. The plan was for her to play outside after breakfast, discovering the string, follow it and get the bike as a surprise. I had planned this for months and was looking forward to it with great excitment.

There turned out to be a snag, though. I pretty big one as far as I was concerned. Mistress and  me had completely different time tables in mind, and had failed to communicate about it. Mostly, I think, because we both thought our own was so completely logical, it didn't dawn on either of us that the other one might have a different view.

Mistress wanted to spare the surprise to last. She appreciated the time spent outside, she was working on a project freeing the garage door from ice (it's still wintery around here) and was happy that little S was playing nicely with her doll and the snow and the gravel. She was oblivious to the fact that I was anxiously waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

At first it was okay. I was enjoying the sun and playing with the dog and everything was okay. But then I started to realise that things didn't go the way I had planned them. Why wasn't Mistress leading the kid towards the string? Why didn't she act?

Time went on, I got more and more fidgety and tried to ask Mistress about it, but it was hard to communicate about something that was a secret and a surprise when the kid was right next to us. Eventually little S got tired and started whining, and then I was a little bit more insistent, asking again about "when?". But I still don't think Mistress got how I was feeling or that we had strayed very far from the scenario I had envisioned.

At long last, Mistress signalled that okay, I might lead her to it, but I didn't want to lead her. I wanted her to find it, and the only way to do that was to make her play in that general area of the yard. But Mistress was busy with her project, and little S was playing by her, and when I tried to stir up some interest around the string-area, nothing happened. I asked Mistress to join me, and she answered me with a flat "no". And that was when I broke down.

I couldn't stand it anymore. My brain melted. I was overcome with despair and the only thing I could think of doing was fleeing, which I promptly did. I just left everything and walked away out on the street, and walked a 100 metres to where the postboxes were.

Eventually I calmed down, went back, Mistress and little S played around the string by then, she found it, and eventually the bicycle and everything happened as I'd planned it to. Except for me biting back sobs and blinking away tears, refusing to look at Mistress and talking to little S in a false cheerful tone of voice.

We managed to clear it up later, mostly by text. I don't think either one of us had known before how hard it is for me to wait for something. Or well, I know of course, but I'm so skilled by now at not putting myself in situations where I have to wait that it's rarely a problem. But this time I was powerless to prevent it, and what happens is total break down of my brain.

This is one of the aspects of ADHD for me. This is one of the things that makes me exhausted, why it is a disability. I can deal up to a point, like a damn filling with water, but past that point the damn brakes and there is a flood of rage and despair. I tried to hint at Mistress that I found it difficult, but I wasn't very clear, and she wasn't all that perceptive.

Now I'm more or less okay, a couple of hours later, but the tears are still about to well up every now and then and I feel exhausted and anxious. I don't know if I should take one of my anxiety-pills or if I should just hope it will pass on it's own. It's very apparent it wasn't a very beneficial exercise for my brain, that's for sure.

I wish I had a more normal brain. I wish I could wait, like most people. I wish normal everyday interaction wouldn't cause a nuclear breakdown in my head. But this is me, and this is how I function, and we'll just have to work around.

And little S loved her bike, and that makes it all a little better.

Mar 24, 2013

Knife play

"Knifes seems to suit you" min friend I. said in chat today. And she also said "write a blog post! I'm out of things to do besides studying." So I guess I'll comply.

Knife play does suit me. Or well us, since I think it suits Mistress very well.

She's taught me very well to be still and relax when she tortures me. In the beginning I used to trash around a lot more. Now, I usually get to that place where I lie perfectly still much more quickly. I know some enjoy watching their victim squirm, and I actually enjoy a good squirming now and then, but Mistress doesn't and that's that. She wants me still and isn't all that interested in my input, and so I'm still and quiet.

So going from tying me up and beating on me to tying me up and cutting in to me isn't all that big a leap. She gets so very concentrated I can feel it. I feel like a canvas she uses to make art, and that's a form of objectification I love. I can let go of myself and just be, exist, nothing demanded of me. It helps that so far she's tied me up very securely so I don't even have to put in the effort to keep myself still.

It hurts, of course, but it's a different kind of hurt than being spanked or whipped, and not necessarily worse. Many implements for beating seems to be constructed to do the least amount of damage with the most amount of pain and impact. A knife is a bit the other way around. There's a lot of damage being done, but it's precise deliberate damage, and it doesn't hurt as much.

The heart is still on my shoulder, all the scabs are gone but there's a faint red line where they were before. A beating with marks that lasts for two weeks? It would have been one hell of a session, and it would have taken hours. The knife is special  because it is both much worse and much less when it comes to pain and impact than any of her other implements.

Also, the mere idea of having her over me with a frikking knife in her hand! There's impact right there, without her doing anything at all.

Mar 18, 2013

She hearts me!

I just realised I wanted to show off the beautiful heart I got a week ago. It still shows, and a bit of the heart is itching when it's healing.

Weekend fun

We actually did get it on that day last weekend. It went something like "oh well, I might as well tie you up a little" and developed into "and then have you whittle a perfect piece of ginger and put it in your ass and smack you around a little, and oh, by the way, carve my initials and a big heart in your back. While I'm at it, kind of thing."

So yeah. Fun was had.

Fun was had this weekend too, mostly yesterday which was Mistress' birthday. Little S was at my mothers for the day, and we went to a friends house for some table top role playing, which was great fun. But before that Mistress decided that since it was her birthday, there would be a birthday spanking. Administrated by her at me. By every implement I have ever given her on her birthday.

After 43+1 (to grow on, obviously) whacks with the big walking stick and 43+1 with the flogger, I somehow got a compulsion to tell her that in fact I also gave her the small rattan on a birthday. Because... I'm stupid? Terminally honest? Brainwashed?

And then she fucked me, and that was pretty much a perfect birthday.

Also, I coloured her hair black. It looks great.

Mar 10, 2013

Lazy week end

We've gone to Mistress' parents over the weekend, and was kind of looking forward to having some time for ourselves, which is an euphemism for time to play and fuck. Well.

We've both gotten our period. Mistress has a cold. And I'm completely exhausted for no apparent reason. That playing and fucking thing? It's been replaced by us apologizing to each other for not being up for it, and vegging out in front of the teve with snacks. Honestly, not a bad week end...

Mar 7, 2013

Three simple rules...

1) Shut up.
2) Listen.
3) Do as she says.

My god, how hard can it be???

Just do it.


One can always tell when I start to feel worse, because then I go quiet. Depression silence me.

Maybe because I know the stupid things going around and around in my head isn't real, isn't worth repeating. I don't want to ruminate on the internet. Or maybe it's the other way around - all my energy is spent on placating the inner demons, and none is left for communicating with the world outside of my brain.

Depression is a sucky, sucky disease.

Anyway, it's March now and that means that the sun has returned and is finally feeling warm again. That part at least is somewhat glorious. Also, it's Thursday, which means soon it's the week-end. I'm holding on to my belief that the week-end will be better than the week.

Now I'll go pour scolding hot coffee at the inner demons and hope that makes them shut up for a while. A shower would probably be wise too.