Mistress is going away again, for two nights this week. I'm okay with it, even though I don't like it of course. I have a very clear and unambiguous order for the three days she's gone: Be in better shape when she returns!
I've had a depression setback in November - it's dark, I have an never-ending cold and noone is calling back to my job applications. Unfortunately, the strategies I unconsciously applied to solve these issues only made them worse. I tried to ruminate and worry, which never works and just make me feel yucky, and then I had a lot of guilt and bad conscience that drove me to do a lot of presumably good stuff like cleaning and things; only when it's done out of guilt it never ends well. In the end, my brain started going the old depression route again, and Mistress picked up on it because I started to snap and snarl at her a lot.
I do that - when I get depressed and stressed out and angsty, the mere effort of holding a conversation or eating breakfast feels like to much, and I start lashing out. Not all that much, I usually bites my tongue, but Mistress notices and it makes her grumpy in return, which all to often ends in arguing and bickering and general misery.
So. No more rumination or guilt trips. No compensating and trying to be a "good girl" just because I feel like a shitty one. Back to meditating regularly (wich I haven't been doing), walking and going to the gym, lunching with friends and generally doing all the things that I know makes me feel better, instead of things I'm driven to just to avoid feeling bad. Because that's not the same thing.
But I'll miss her. Like crazy.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 16, 2013
A cold, a sandwich and being good enough
I never feel less like a slave then when I'm sick. I get all grumpy and touchy and angsty. Being sick triggers bad memories and brings out a lot of tjhe dysfunctionals sides of me. I've been down with a bad cold this whole week, and Mistress' has been a saint about it. I still can't shake the grumpiness though.
And I feel like a failure because I don't do anything useful at home. And she doesn't find me sexy (for some reason snot and a fever is not a turn on it seems) nor does she want to hurt me or play with me. She just manouveurs around me, where I'm slumped in a corner of the couch surrounded by used tissue papers.
Or well, I have been doing some things this week too, ironically a lot more than I ever did the whole of last year. I've vacuumed some of the floors, I've left and picked up the kid at pre-school, and I've managed to get dinner on the table for her and the kid (okay, once that was arranged by me calling ahead to the local pizza-place and she picking the pizzas up on her way home from the bus stop, but still - I orchestrated the process).
And I've made ice-cream two days in a row, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count since I only made it for myself because well, I don't really think anyone should eat something I make right now unless they intentionally want the cold virus from hell, and I also ate it all both days. But then again, it meant I ate something, points for that.
This morning Mistress had made her usual heroic morning routine and served me tea and sandwich in the living room. This isn't even a special "oh my poor baby is sick" kind of thing, it's our standard morning routine (I'll blog about our mornings one of these days...). Anyway. The sandwich today was for some reason white bread with cold meatballs and mayo.
As the first thing in the morning. When I have a sore throat and no sense of smell nor appetite. And don't even like meatballs in the first place, if they're not homemade, and never cold and never ever on a sandwich.
We haven't had time to discuss it, and I'm honestly afraid to ask, but I guess she had some kind of idea behind it. If she was inclined that way I would have guessed it to be some sort of sadistic, hard-ass test of my obedience. But she doesn't have a habit of doing those kinds of things, and my being grumpy sick and sniffling doesn't really bring forth the creative sadist in her. I think she just had meatballs left over, wanted them eaten, and had one herself and made one for me.
Anyway, I had no idea what to do. I mean, there's no really recommended way to say to your Owner "Hey, I don't like this sandwich, make me another one!". The obvious would of course be to discreetly go and make another one myself. But there's a reason I get served breakfast on the couch, and that reason is four years old and grumpy and clingy in the morning.
Everything goes much easier if I serve as kid-anchor and make sure she gets something inside her, and in the meantime Mistress gets to eat breakfast in peace in the kitchen and usually works at the same time. The whole point of feeding us in the living room is so that she can have some uninterrupted peace and quite with her breakfast and her computer. Me going out there making noise and either having the kid in tow or having her yelling loudly to me from across the apartment would kind of negate that.
I could have just eaten it of course. But no, really, I couldn't. I'm sure Mistress could have made me eat it, no doubts about that, but of my own volition, just because it was laying there beside my cup of tea? No. No way.
In the end Mistress popped her head in to check on us presumably when she had finished her breakfast, looked at me, looked at the sandwich, looked at me again in a way that made my inside kind of cringe, and said "I'll just go make you another one, should I?" And she did, and I happily ate the cheese sandwich she brought and felt more than usually sheepish.
And no, I don't think I'm much of a slave when I'm sick, nor much of a housewife or for that matter not all that great as a wife either, on any scale. But the good thing is that that doesn't matter. Because no matter what, I'm still her property, and that I'm amazingly awesome as. Even when my nose is running and I'm a picky eater.
And I feel like a failure because I don't do anything useful at home. And she doesn't find me sexy (for some reason snot and a fever is not a turn on it seems) nor does she want to hurt me or play with me. She just manouveurs around me, where I'm slumped in a corner of the couch surrounded by used tissue papers.
Or well, I have been doing some things this week too, ironically a lot more than I ever did the whole of last year. I've vacuumed some of the floors, I've left and picked up the kid at pre-school, and I've managed to get dinner on the table for her and the kid (okay, once that was arranged by me calling ahead to the local pizza-place and she picking the pizzas up on her way home from the bus stop, but still - I orchestrated the process).
And I've made ice-cream two days in a row, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count since I only made it for myself because well, I don't really think anyone should eat something I make right now unless they intentionally want the cold virus from hell, and I also ate it all both days. But then again, it meant I ate something, points for that.
This morning Mistress had made her usual heroic morning routine and served me tea and sandwich in the living room. This isn't even a special "oh my poor baby is sick" kind of thing, it's our standard morning routine (I'll blog about our mornings one of these days...). Anyway. The sandwich today was for some reason white bread with cold meatballs and mayo.
As the first thing in the morning. When I have a sore throat and no sense of smell nor appetite. And don't even like meatballs in the first place, if they're not homemade, and never cold and never ever on a sandwich.
We haven't had time to discuss it, and I'm honestly afraid to ask, but I guess she had some kind of idea behind it. If she was inclined that way I would have guessed it to be some sort of sadistic, hard-ass test of my obedience. But she doesn't have a habit of doing those kinds of things, and my being grumpy sick and sniffling doesn't really bring forth the creative sadist in her. I think she just had meatballs left over, wanted them eaten, and had one herself and made one for me.
Anyway, I had no idea what to do. I mean, there's no really recommended way to say to your Owner "Hey, I don't like this sandwich, make me another one!". The obvious would of course be to discreetly go and make another one myself. But there's a reason I get served breakfast on the couch, and that reason is four years old and grumpy and clingy in the morning.
Everything goes much easier if I serve as kid-anchor and make sure she gets something inside her, and in the meantime Mistress gets to eat breakfast in peace in the kitchen and usually works at the same time. The whole point of feeding us in the living room is so that she can have some uninterrupted peace and quite with her breakfast and her computer. Me going out there making noise and either having the kid in tow or having her yelling loudly to me from across the apartment would kind of negate that.
I could have just eaten it of course. But no, really, I couldn't. I'm sure Mistress could have made me eat it, no doubts about that, but of my own volition, just because it was laying there beside my cup of tea? No. No way.
In the end Mistress popped her head in to check on us presumably when she had finished her breakfast, looked at me, looked at the sandwich, looked at me again in a way that made my inside kind of cringe, and said "I'll just go make you another one, should I?" And she did, and I happily ate the cheese sandwich she brought and felt more than usually sheepish.
And no, I don't think I'm much of a slave when I'm sick, nor much of a housewife or for that matter not all that great as a wife either, on any scale. But the good thing is that that doesn't matter. Because no matter what, I'm still her property, and that I'm amazingly awesome as. Even when my nose is running and I'm a picky eater.
Nov 11, 2013
Rectifying old mistakes
Three days ago, Friday last week, I took an exam that I once failed at. I took it once when I actually studied the course, screwed it up due to lack of studying combined with an excess of strenous weekend activities the days before, and then never got around to fixing it. Of course I had plenty of opportunities, but life just kind of kept going and I never managed to get to it.
Yesterday I took it. I'm quite confident that I'm going to pass, I see no reason why I shouldn't. The big thing, however, is that I actually, at long last, invested the time and the energy to get it done. Or maybe I shouldn't say that I did. I should say that Mistress did.
It's all due to her helping me, focusing me, prioritising all the things in our lives and motivating me. She said I should do this, and now I have.
This is actually the only exam I have ever failed at while studying at the University, and it figures that I never took it again, since I tend to go by "if at first you don't succeed, hide all evidence of ever having tried it" (Hillary Clinton, if I remember correctly). It was my first course ever at the University as a matter of fact, and it was in the year 2000. That's thirteen years ago. Thirteen years has this thing been unresolved, not finished. Now it is (or will be very soon). And even though I did the studying and was the one who held the pen to the paper, she's the one who made it happen.
She's just so amazingly good for me.
(What course it was? English 101. Go figure.)
Yesterday I took it. I'm quite confident that I'm going to pass, I see no reason why I shouldn't. The big thing, however, is that I actually, at long last, invested the time and the energy to get it done. Or maybe I shouldn't say that I did. I should say that Mistress did.
It's all due to her helping me, focusing me, prioritising all the things in our lives and motivating me. She said I should do this, and now I have.
This is actually the only exam I have ever failed at while studying at the University, and it figures that I never took it again, since I tend to go by "if at first you don't succeed, hide all evidence of ever having tried it" (Hillary Clinton, if I remember correctly). It was my first course ever at the University as a matter of fact, and it was in the year 2000. That's thirteen years ago. Thirteen years has this thing been unresolved, not finished. Now it is (or will be very soon). And even though I did the studying and was the one who held the pen to the paper, she's the one who made it happen.
She's just so amazingly good for me.
(What course it was? English 101. Go figure.)
Nov 1, 2013
A little play goes a long way
We had some time together this morning, alone at home. Mistress chained me to the bed, and proceeded to methodically and calmly cut my back, alternating with dropping hot candle wax on it. It was slow, painful, mindful and beautiful. And it looked pretty, too.
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