We had friends over this weekend, two whole families actually. Two couples with their kids came and stayed the night and it was really nice. Even more special since we're all doing BDSM. Not together, that is, there were no play and no overt dominance going on at all.
But there's something about hanging out with people I can be open with that matters a lot to me. It's not that I say or do anything in particular. It's just that I'm more comfortable, more myself. More in love with Mistress, too. Knowing that I don't have to hide makes a big difference, even if the hiding usually isn't all that taxing.
I guess it's like getting out of uncomfortable clothes. It's one thing to stand it when you have to wear them all the time, but when you can take them off for a while it feels really really good.
Showing posts with label Mistress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mistress. Show all posts
Oct 16, 2016
Jul 14, 2016
I remember
I remember when Mistress taught me to behave at parties. The thing is, want to be a social butterfly. I was forever working the room, mingling and making sure I wouldn’t miss anything. No matter who I was talking with I worried there were something more fun going on in another room. That I was missing out.
This drove Mistress crazy. She didn’t want to mingle, and didn’t care if she missed something.Nor did she want to sit alone all night while I talked to absolutely everybody for five minutes each. We bickered about it a bit, as I recall, and eventually she made me/persuaded me/told me to simply stick with her. Even if that meant I missed out.
And I remember this particular party, or bits and pieces from it anyway. This was before we got little S, so before 2009, but I don’t remember anymore about it. It was a theme party, some historical period - might have been the twenties maybe. I think a couple of people celebrated their birthdays together, and the venue were some sort of pub or something similar in Stockholm. There were a lot of people we knew a little bit and a lot of people we didn’t know at all. I remember this nervous feeling I had, that I always used to have at parties and gatherings, this mix of excitement and fear.
And Mistress made me sit with her at table in the middle of the room, close to the door, with our drinks, doing nothing. No mingling, no circulating, no going around saying hey to everybody. Just sit there.
Of course, what happened was that everybody came over and said hi to us instead. Turns out that if you sit at a table with available chairs looking friendly and relaxed a lot of people find that rather appealing and joins you. We had a great time, and if I missed out of something I didn’t notice it. There was this relief in this, in obeying Mistress, in taking this chance, and in noticing that she had been right all along
Jul 12, 2016
A nightly walk long ago
I remember a night during the first spring after we had fallen in love. It must have been the spring of 2004 and I lived in an apartment in central Stockholm, together with my ex, my then-Master. Mistress semi-lived with us then too, she had her own place in another town and worked at yet another place, but we spent a lot of time together.
This particular night we were up and out very late, I don’t remember why. I vaguely recall that there was a reason, we had been to some event or other. And we walked home through the city, Mistress and me. It was late spring or early summer and one of those nights that doesn’t get dark. There was a little bit of cold in the air, the scent of flowers were everywhere, and it was light, a bright twilight, even though the sun was down and it was late at night. There were some people out, but not many.
And Mistress had me in a collar and leash, perhaps for the very first time or at least one of the first times. We walked through the dreaming night city, in the twilight and the scent of flowers, I followed her a few steps behind her and she held my leash in her hand. We might have led the leash inside my sweater and out through the arm, it was very discreet and no one seemed to notice at all. It was magical and exciting and made me feel very safe, and very loved.
I remember also my ex commenting afterwards when I talked about it that he was a bit jealous because if he had had me in a leash in public people would stare angrily and assume I was being abused. Maybe he was right, I don’t know and we never tried it. I know no one stared or commented on me and Mistress and I know that I looked forward to doing it again sometime. But I’m not sure we ever did.
Mar 10, 2016
"What is your favorite sort of interaction with your Mistress?"
Yey! I got a question from ancilla_ksst, thanks! My favourite sort of interaction with Mistress?
Honestly - when she's fucking me. :-) That's my very favourite thing, much the same way that my favourite food is chocolate and my favourite place is on vacation. I like pleasure and sensation and indulgence, and being fucked gives me all of that.
Most days we don't do that, however, because well, life and tired and time and things. So on a typical weekday when we both have been working we don't really get to spend much time with each other until little S is asleep. We usually cuddle up on the sofa, and I rest with my head on her shoulder. She pets my hair, and everything is nice and soft and safe. That's good too.
And then when we go to bed and say good night I lay on her arm and she holds my wrist in her hand and we're close together and drift off to sleep. That's good to.
I think I simply like to cuddle a lot.
Jan 25, 2016
Noose
We cuddled on the sofa yesterday, as usual, and Mistress was holding my collar in her hand. She often does that, but this time she unhooked it and grabbed the end so that it formed a noose around my neck. She kept it tight but not too tight, it didn't restrict anything. It just made me feel very safe and secure and held.
Jan 24, 2016
Being parents
I left with little S after breakfast this morning and we came home again in the afternoon. It's a fact of life in our family that we all actually have a better time if we split up. It's sad and not at all how we thought it would be to be parents, but it is what it is. We do things all three of us every now and then but we need a lot of time apart too.
So in a way it's been a really good day, little S and I had a good outing and now she and Mistress are playing downstairs before bedtime and I'm relaxing upstairs. I think the little one has had a good day, and both me and Mistress has gotten time on our own and a chance to rest and recuperate. What we haven't got is anytime together.
We said a brief good morning before breakfast, but we can't have any normal grown up conversations over the meal or around it. And when we came home we pretty much changed shifts at the car. Mistress stayed outside and played and I went inside and rested. Before bed I'll watch a video with little S in bed and tonight it's my turn to read the bedtime story.
When little S is asleep, it's our time, we can be grown ups for an hour or so, and say anything we need to say. Cuddle and hang out and possibly doing something sexy or kinky. But we go to bed at around ten, and we would even if we didn't have to go to work or school because little S always wake up early and can't abide one minute without a parent.
One way to look at it is of course that we have a spoiled kid, that if we just raised her better she would be able to let other people finish a conversation uniterrupted or stand that her parents hug each other. Another view is that she's perfectly normal and behaves like every six year old and that the idea that parents would be able to exchange a sentence during a day together is asking for too much (that's my mothers' view, by the way).
I honestly don't think there's all that much we can do differently, without resorting to threats or physical violence. We've tried a lot of different tactics and I'm pretty convinced little S does everything she can to please us and do what we want her to do. I also don't think she's exactly like every other kid on the planet. I've seen the other kids, and even more, I've talked to their parents. They can do stuff we can't, without even thinking about it.
I do think we have an intense kid with a high need for social interaction and with a low impulse control for her age. She's all over the place and need a lot of time and attention in order to manage ordinary everyday things. If we don't support her, her anxiety levels goes through the roof. She's also really smart, kind, sweet, a good friend, has a great imagination, she's brave and caring and wonderful in many ways. But... no. She's not like most kids.
And that means that we can't do things many parents, many families, can. Get five minutes, or even one minute, alone together during a day, being the one we miss the most. We need to arrange things, make sure we get that time, because it doesn't just happen.
On the other hand this spring we went on a trip to Iceland and we rode Icelandic horses all three of us. Little S rode on a horse on her own, trotting and galopping and climbing the rocks and wading the rivers just like the adults. She had better control over her horse than most of the adult tourists on the tour. There's things we can't do, but there's a lot of things we can do and do that other families wouldn't. I don't want to change her a bit. I just want her to go to sleep soon so that I can cuddle with her other mother...
So in a way it's been a really good day, little S and I had a good outing and now she and Mistress are playing downstairs before bedtime and I'm relaxing upstairs. I think the little one has had a good day, and both me and Mistress has gotten time on our own and a chance to rest and recuperate. What we haven't got is anytime together.
We said a brief good morning before breakfast, but we can't have any normal grown up conversations over the meal or around it. And when we came home we pretty much changed shifts at the car. Mistress stayed outside and played and I went inside and rested. Before bed I'll watch a video with little S in bed and tonight it's my turn to read the bedtime story.
When little S is asleep, it's our time, we can be grown ups for an hour or so, and say anything we need to say. Cuddle and hang out and possibly doing something sexy or kinky. But we go to bed at around ten, and we would even if we didn't have to go to work or school because little S always wake up early and can't abide one minute without a parent.
One way to look at it is of course that we have a spoiled kid, that if we just raised her better she would be able to let other people finish a conversation uniterrupted or stand that her parents hug each other. Another view is that she's perfectly normal and behaves like every six year old and that the idea that parents would be able to exchange a sentence during a day together is asking for too much (that's my mothers' view, by the way).
I honestly don't think there's all that much we can do differently, without resorting to threats or physical violence. We've tried a lot of different tactics and I'm pretty convinced little S does everything she can to please us and do what we want her to do. I also don't think she's exactly like every other kid on the planet. I've seen the other kids, and even more, I've talked to their parents. They can do stuff we can't, without even thinking about it.
I do think we have an intense kid with a high need for social interaction and with a low impulse control for her age. She's all over the place and need a lot of time and attention in order to manage ordinary everyday things. If we don't support her, her anxiety levels goes through the roof. She's also really smart, kind, sweet, a good friend, has a great imagination, she's brave and caring and wonderful in many ways. But... no. She's not like most kids.
And that means that we can't do things many parents, many families, can. Get five minutes, or even one minute, alone together during a day, being the one we miss the most. We need to arrange things, make sure we get that time, because it doesn't just happen.
On the other hand this spring we went on a trip to Iceland and we rode Icelandic horses all three of us. Little S rode on a horse on her own, trotting and galopping and climbing the rocks and wading the rivers just like the adults. She had better control over her horse than most of the adult tourists on the tour. There's things we can't do, but there's a lot of things we can do and do that other families wouldn't. I don't want to change her a bit. I just want her to go to sleep soon so that I can cuddle with her other mother...
Jan 3, 2016
Trust (and crying and misunderstandings and a water crisis).
Yesterday when I was snot-crying into my pillow my mind was filled with very real thoughts about our relationship being over. I didn't see any way forward at that moment, and even though part of me knew I was being very much overly dramatic another part was very very sincere in the idea of "this is it - I can't go forward from here".
When we were arguing, or rather trying to solve things instead of arguing, I hugged Mistress, rested my head against her chest and asked "Can I trust you?". Meaning "I want to trust you, no matter what, I don't care what just happened, I don't care about our problems - if you say you'll be there, I'll believe you, and everything else will take care of itself. Just tell me I can trust you, and I will."
That's what I meant, and that's what I was expecting an answer to. That was, however, not how she interpreted the question, and she answered, calmly and with sincerity: "No".
So there. For me, that was kind of it. I tore lose, told her she made me panic and that I couldn't believe she just said that. She changed the subject and went to check on some practicality. I told her to go to Hell, ran upstairs, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed and cried.
For me, her answer was practically the same as thrusting a divorce paper under my nose. If she herself says I can't trust her - how can I? And if I can't trust her, if she doesn't even bother about trying to behave in a way that I can trust, if she just disregard that as something unimportant, how can I submit to her? And I know, by now, that any other type relationship will dry up and go stale very fast for me. But the thing is that I have absolutely nowhere to go.
It doesn't matter how mad or sad or frustrated or heartbroken she makes me. I can't imagine a life without her, either emotionally or in a practical sense. All my dreams, all my hopes and plans and ideas, are tied to her. Everything I want to do, I want to do together with her. The idea of doing anything without her felt lika a vast, black gulf opening before me.
But on the other hand there were those words: "Can I trust you?" "No."
Well, she followed me after a few minutes, laid herself literary atop of me, like a rather heavy duvet (heavy for a duvet, that is - she's not that heavy for a human). She hugged me and said she wanted to make things better, and that whatever I had heard or interpreted was wrong and that I could trust that she loved me and wanted me and would always do her best to take her of me. That made it kind of better.
And right around when I had stopped bawling my eyes out our time was up and little S was tired of waiting and came upstairs. Like any jealous and possessive six-year-old she did her very best to not only lay on top of us but also slide herself down between us, so that the mommy-hug became two mommies hugging her, instead of two adults hugging eachother. Ah well.
The crux of the matter is I guess what it was Mistress answered to. I asked a very broad question, concerning our whole relationship, my whole existance almost. She answered a very narrow specific question regarding the immediate situation.
When we came home the water was frozen. This is our first winter in this house, and it has so far been a very mild one. We've been gone for a week, and during this week it has suddenly gotten cold. There's a cable that needs to be plugged in so that the water in the pipes doesn't freeze, and we hadn't done that, and so their was no water in the house.
This was quite easily resolved by plugging in the cable and waiting a while, but before we figured it all out and solved it, Mistress got really tense. It had been bad winter weather on the drive home too, and she really doesn't like that either. In the end she had a fit, she talked to little S in an angry voice, hit herself in the head with her fist, and stormed off. I freaked out and got very angry (also pouty and moody) and it was when we tried to resolve this everything went from bad to worse.
So when I asked can I trust you, Mistress heard: "Can I trust you to never be stressed out over a crisis again? Can I trust you to never lose your temper, have a fit an storm off?". And she answered very truthfully: No. Because even she really tries, and even if she agress that it was unneccesary and wish she had kept her cool, she can't promise me it wont happen again. Honestly, it has happened on a regular basis since I've known her, so it's pretty much the other way around; no matter how hard she tries, she most probably will do it again.
The question, then, is; can I trust her? Can I trust her, even though she throws fits when she gets stresses, even though she hits herself in the head when she gets overwhelmed, even though she answers literarily to a loaded question in the middle of a relational crisis without regards to hwo that answer might be interpreted? Can I trust her, when this is who she is and how she will behave?
Yes, absolutely. Everyday, for the rest of my life. I don't care what idiotic things she says when she's lost her theory of mind due to stress. I trust her.
I belong to her, and I trust.
When we were arguing, or rather trying to solve things instead of arguing, I hugged Mistress, rested my head against her chest and asked "Can I trust you?". Meaning "I want to trust you, no matter what, I don't care what just happened, I don't care about our problems - if you say you'll be there, I'll believe you, and everything else will take care of itself. Just tell me I can trust you, and I will."
That's what I meant, and that's what I was expecting an answer to. That was, however, not how she interpreted the question, and she answered, calmly and with sincerity: "No".
So there. For me, that was kind of it. I tore lose, told her she made me panic and that I couldn't believe she just said that. She changed the subject and went to check on some practicality. I told her to go to Hell, ran upstairs, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed and cried.
For me, her answer was practically the same as thrusting a divorce paper under my nose. If she herself says I can't trust her - how can I? And if I can't trust her, if she doesn't even bother about trying to behave in a way that I can trust, if she just disregard that as something unimportant, how can I submit to her? And I know, by now, that any other type relationship will dry up and go stale very fast for me. But the thing is that I have absolutely nowhere to go.
It doesn't matter how mad or sad or frustrated or heartbroken she makes me. I can't imagine a life without her, either emotionally or in a practical sense. All my dreams, all my hopes and plans and ideas, are tied to her. Everything I want to do, I want to do together with her. The idea of doing anything without her felt lika a vast, black gulf opening before me.
But on the other hand there were those words: "Can I trust you?" "No."
Well, she followed me after a few minutes, laid herself literary atop of me, like a rather heavy duvet (heavy for a duvet, that is - she's not that heavy for a human). She hugged me and said she wanted to make things better, and that whatever I had heard or interpreted was wrong and that I could trust that she loved me and wanted me and would always do her best to take her of me. That made it kind of better.
And right around when I had stopped bawling my eyes out our time was up and little S was tired of waiting and came upstairs. Like any jealous and possessive six-year-old she did her very best to not only lay on top of us but also slide herself down between us, so that the mommy-hug became two mommies hugging her, instead of two adults hugging eachother. Ah well.
The crux of the matter is I guess what it was Mistress answered to. I asked a very broad question, concerning our whole relationship, my whole existance almost. She answered a very narrow specific question regarding the immediate situation.
When we came home the water was frozen. This is our first winter in this house, and it has so far been a very mild one. We've been gone for a week, and during this week it has suddenly gotten cold. There's a cable that needs to be plugged in so that the water in the pipes doesn't freeze, and we hadn't done that, and so their was no water in the house.
This was quite easily resolved by plugging in the cable and waiting a while, but before we figured it all out and solved it, Mistress got really tense. It had been bad winter weather on the drive home too, and she really doesn't like that either. In the end she had a fit, she talked to little S in an angry voice, hit herself in the head with her fist, and stormed off. I freaked out and got very angry (also pouty and moody) and it was when we tried to resolve this everything went from bad to worse.
So when I asked can I trust you, Mistress heard: "Can I trust you to never be stressed out over a crisis again? Can I trust you to never lose your temper, have a fit an storm off?". And she answered very truthfully: No. Because even she really tries, and even if she agress that it was unneccesary and wish she had kept her cool, she can't promise me it wont happen again. Honestly, it has happened on a regular basis since I've known her, so it's pretty much the other way around; no matter how hard she tries, she most probably will do it again.
The question, then, is; can I trust her? Can I trust her, even though she throws fits when she gets stresses, even though she hits herself in the head when she gets overwhelmed, even though she answers literarily to a loaded question in the middle of a relational crisis without regards to hwo that answer might be interpreted? Can I trust her, when this is who she is and how she will behave?
Yes, absolutely. Everyday, for the rest of my life. I don't care what idiotic things she says when she's lost her theory of mind due to stress. I trust her.
I belong to her, and I trust.
Seesaw
And then we got home and within three hours I was in the fetal position in our bed, crying my eyes out and accusing Mistress of breaking up with me. I hate that we do this. It's like some weird seesaw, if we are starting to get closer and more intimate, we somehow always end up with epic fights that rip us apart. I hate that.
This is so freaking normal for us, we've been doing this song and dance since we first fell in love. We have learnt, however, to make up faster than before. It took only a few hours before we had settled down again and were cuddling on the sofa.
I slept badly though, and feel a little off today. Even though we make it better, it still hurts. Words were said that can't be unsaid, and I feel a little tender and wary. I want to be loving and trusting and open and submitting. But that also makes me vulnerable and sensitive, which means both that I notice things and care more about things, and that things that hurt me hurts much more.
This is so freaking normal for us, we've been doing this song and dance since we first fell in love. We have learnt, however, to make up faster than before. It took only a few hours before we had settled down again and were cuddling on the sofa.
I slept badly though, and feel a little off today. Even though we make it better, it still hurts. Words were said that can't be unsaid, and I feel a little tender and wary. I want to be loving and trusting and open and submitting. But that also makes me vulnerable and sensitive, which means both that I notice things and care more about things, and that things that hurt me hurts much more.
Jan 1, 2016
Looking back and feeling loved
It's ten years ago now that me and Mistress moved in together. Or it will be, in a week or so. I remember Christmas 2005, it was horrible. Our poly triad was in it's death throes and I was so utterly miserable, with almost every aspect of my life. It was that Christmas I decided I would spend a week at my mothers' home and not talk to either of them, Mistress or my boyfriend/then-Master.
After a few days I missed her. I didn't miss him. And that was kind of it. It still took me about two weeks after that to actually make up my mind and say something about it. Two absolutely miserable weeks. And then one night me and him were laying in bed, he tried to have sex with me, I pushed him away and he started to cry. And I said I wanted to break up with him, that it was over. I don't remember everything we said, but I remember the despair. And that he said he would kill himself, and I said alright, if you do that I'll kill myself to. Come on, let's do it. He didn't, obviously, and I guess we fell asleep after that.
I left as soon as I could, but there were a lot of agonising moments before we were finally separated. Packing up stuff, moving, seeing each other and not talking. The bleak despair of it all. And Mistress, suffering from our agony and afraid I think that I would leave her too - and yet by my side, all the time, supporting me.
I moved in with her, and I remember that we both agreed that it would be best for me to get my own place somewhere, to land on my feet and be self sufficient before we could build a life togehter. It sounded so wise and thoughtful and right. But I didn't want to be anywhere except exactly where she was, so that didn't happen. In March 2006 she proposed to me and I said yes, and we lived in her apartment until she bought us a bigger one in June that year.
We got married in August 2007, little S was conceived during the fall of 2008, with a lot of frustrating trips to the hospital, and she was born in August 2009. We moved again in the summer of 2010, to a three bedroom apartment in the same city.
I began my studies in psychology that same year me and Mistress moved in together, my first term started in January 2006. I took a slightly involuntary break in 2008 because I wanted to change schools to my home town to get out of commuting and hade to wait for a spot to open up in the right term in my new school. And then I took some more leave because of little S. In the end, I didn't graduate until the spring of 2013.
What we didn't know until the fall of 2012 was that I have ADHD. It's a bit strange now to think back and realise how different we would have looked at things if we knew. But we didn't, and we made the best decisions we could with what we knew. I got sick from exhaustion, from trying to be a good mom to a high need baby and successfull at a demanding education and managing all of the life stresses that everyone has to handle. I'm quite a bit worse at that than most people, however, and by the summer of 2012, I was in a really really bad shape. We were training to become therapists in school by then, and I remember that my first patient was in much better shape than I was (though I never told anyone in school (and of course didn't say anything to my patient)).
I got medication and eventually an ADHD-diagnosis and medication for that too, just in time to save the paper I had to write for my Masters degree. And I got my degree as a psychologist. Then I didn't get a job. It was actually a really good time, the summer and fall of 2013. I didn't do much, I mostly recuperated. Eventually I got a job, but in a different part of the country, and my heroic family moved with me in the summer of 2014 for a year in exile. And in the summer of 2015 I was done, got my license and a job back home again. And here we are now.
It's been quite a ride these last ten years. And all this time, in all the ups and downs and varying circumstances, Mistress has been with me. She has kept me, in all the meanings of the word. She has her job, and even though it's stressfull and bad and she's not appreciated as she should be (because of patriarchy and misogynistic pricks for bosses) at times, it's also fun I think, and the job itself seems to suit her. It's paid our bills all this time, she has supported me through school (I've worked some, and have student loans, but it's a pittance compared to her contribution) and we would never been able to afford going to school with a kid without her income.
And she's loved me. Every day. A few days ago we discussed that I can take critique in a better way now (even if I'm still bad at it). And I realised that one important thing is that now, at 35, I've lived more years in a loving, supporting environment, than I did in the suppressive, hateful one I grew up in. It's much easier admitting mistakes when it's finally sunk in that it wont mean being ridiculed. I'm loved. No matter what happens in the future, I know I'm loved.
(Also, spanked and controlled and fucked. That's good stuff to.)
After a few days I missed her. I didn't miss him. And that was kind of it. It still took me about two weeks after that to actually make up my mind and say something about it. Two absolutely miserable weeks. And then one night me and him were laying in bed, he tried to have sex with me, I pushed him away and he started to cry. And I said I wanted to break up with him, that it was over. I don't remember everything we said, but I remember the despair. And that he said he would kill himself, and I said alright, if you do that I'll kill myself to. Come on, let's do it. He didn't, obviously, and I guess we fell asleep after that.
I left as soon as I could, but there were a lot of agonising moments before we were finally separated. Packing up stuff, moving, seeing each other and not talking. The bleak despair of it all. And Mistress, suffering from our agony and afraid I think that I would leave her too - and yet by my side, all the time, supporting me.
I moved in with her, and I remember that we both agreed that it would be best for me to get my own place somewhere, to land on my feet and be self sufficient before we could build a life togehter. It sounded so wise and thoughtful and right. But I didn't want to be anywhere except exactly where she was, so that didn't happen. In March 2006 she proposed to me and I said yes, and we lived in her apartment until she bought us a bigger one in June that year.
We got married in August 2007, little S was conceived during the fall of 2008, with a lot of frustrating trips to the hospital, and she was born in August 2009. We moved again in the summer of 2010, to a three bedroom apartment in the same city.
I began my studies in psychology that same year me and Mistress moved in together, my first term started in January 2006. I took a slightly involuntary break in 2008 because I wanted to change schools to my home town to get out of commuting and hade to wait for a spot to open up in the right term in my new school. And then I took some more leave because of little S. In the end, I didn't graduate until the spring of 2013.
What we didn't know until the fall of 2012 was that I have ADHD. It's a bit strange now to think back and realise how different we would have looked at things if we knew. But we didn't, and we made the best decisions we could with what we knew. I got sick from exhaustion, from trying to be a good mom to a high need baby and successfull at a demanding education and managing all of the life stresses that everyone has to handle. I'm quite a bit worse at that than most people, however, and by the summer of 2012, I was in a really really bad shape. We were training to become therapists in school by then, and I remember that my first patient was in much better shape than I was (though I never told anyone in school (and of course didn't say anything to my patient)).
I got medication and eventually an ADHD-diagnosis and medication for that too, just in time to save the paper I had to write for my Masters degree. And I got my degree as a psychologist. Then I didn't get a job. It was actually a really good time, the summer and fall of 2013. I didn't do much, I mostly recuperated. Eventually I got a job, but in a different part of the country, and my heroic family moved with me in the summer of 2014 for a year in exile. And in the summer of 2015 I was done, got my license and a job back home again. And here we are now.
It's been quite a ride these last ten years. And all this time, in all the ups and downs and varying circumstances, Mistress has been with me. She has kept me, in all the meanings of the word. She has her job, and even though it's stressfull and bad and she's not appreciated as she should be (because of patriarchy and misogynistic pricks for bosses) at times, it's also fun I think, and the job itself seems to suit her. It's paid our bills all this time, she has supported me through school (I've worked some, and have student loans, but it's a pittance compared to her contribution) and we would never been able to afford going to school with a kid without her income.
And she's loved me. Every day. A few days ago we discussed that I can take critique in a better way now (even if I'm still bad at it). And I realised that one important thing is that now, at 35, I've lived more years in a loving, supporting environment, than I did in the suppressive, hateful one I grew up in. It's much easier admitting mistakes when it's finally sunk in that it wont mean being ridiculed. I'm loved. No matter what happens in the future, I know I'm loved.
(Also, spanked and controlled and fucked. That's good stuff to.)
Dec 25, 2015
Random thoughts on Christmas Day
Our first Christmas in the new house. This is our seventh Christmas as parents, and some of them have been remarkably lousy. Like the year when the kid had a stomach bug that just wouldn't let up and we went to the ER in the middle of the night in fear of her being dehydrated. Or the one when she started the day with picking up a piece of glass and putting it in her mouth. She spent all of Christmas dinner crying, and we had no idea why until later when we discovered she had cut herself. Anyway, big family gathering with lots of expectations has a tendency to end up disappointing.
This was a good one, though. Everybody was more or less nice to each other, and our kid played happily with her two cousins a lot of the day. We even managed to make the preparations and clean up for two meals (with ten people) not be entirely done by the females of the crowd. My brother and uncle didn't volunter, but they did agree when asked directly, and that will have to count as good enough.
That's a bit ridiculous actually. We were seven adults; me and Mistress, my brother and his wife, my mother, and my fathers brother och and his older sister. I have ADHD and a history of burn out and I'm very easily fatigued. My sister in law has Ehler-Danlos syndrome, a chronic illness that gives pain and physical weakness and fatigue. My mother had a stroke two years ago, and my aunt has Parkinson. So of us seven, only three are in fighting shape; my wife, my brother and my uncle. That didn't stop the two guys from spending a good part of the afternoon in beds on their backs, telling each other facts about unrelated things. Male privilege. I kind of hate it.
Anyway, today is spent at home just the three of us. I'm doing the privilege thing and lounging about upstairs while Mistress is playing with little S right now. But I'll join them soon, and my plan is that Mistress will be doing the lounging after dinner.
Of kink there is for the time beeing absolutely none. Because of life, and sickness and stress and missed opportunities and well... life. Mistress doesn't do kink or sex or anything like that when she's stressed, and we've been sick in some flu-like virus the week before Christmas. So yeah.
It's interesting, because I can feel how I slowly start to lose my good manners when we drift apart. I'm not intentionally bad in any way, but I get careless I guess. Or insecure, and therefore a bit obnoxious. It doesn't really make any sense, because we're not in a bad place actually. We just haven't had the opportunity for play or sex for a while. In every other way we're all good. But still. I lose my sense of place in the world, I get all uncomfortable and I don't like it.
The more I can behave myself and be the obedient and loving partner my Mistress wants me to be, the better it will be. The sooner we'll get on the right track again. If I start acting up and panic, we'll have to put a lot of valuable time and energy into fixing things, resources better spent having fun. So I'm trying.
I have a paper sign I've made to myself, several years ago, on the refrigerator. It has the words "acceptance, patience, trust" written on it. I try to remember that and be as well as I can in the moment.
This was a good one, though. Everybody was more or less nice to each other, and our kid played happily with her two cousins a lot of the day. We even managed to make the preparations and clean up for two meals (with ten people) not be entirely done by the females of the crowd. My brother and uncle didn't volunter, but they did agree when asked directly, and that will have to count as good enough.
That's a bit ridiculous actually. We were seven adults; me and Mistress, my brother and his wife, my mother, and my fathers brother och and his older sister. I have ADHD and a history of burn out and I'm very easily fatigued. My sister in law has Ehler-Danlos syndrome, a chronic illness that gives pain and physical weakness and fatigue. My mother had a stroke two years ago, and my aunt has Parkinson. So of us seven, only three are in fighting shape; my wife, my brother and my uncle. That didn't stop the two guys from spending a good part of the afternoon in beds on their backs, telling each other facts about unrelated things. Male privilege. I kind of hate it.
Anyway, today is spent at home just the three of us. I'm doing the privilege thing and lounging about upstairs while Mistress is playing with little S right now. But I'll join them soon, and my plan is that Mistress will be doing the lounging after dinner.
Of kink there is for the time beeing absolutely none. Because of life, and sickness and stress and missed opportunities and well... life. Mistress doesn't do kink or sex or anything like that when she's stressed, and we've been sick in some flu-like virus the week before Christmas. So yeah.
It's interesting, because I can feel how I slowly start to lose my good manners when we drift apart. I'm not intentionally bad in any way, but I get careless I guess. Or insecure, and therefore a bit obnoxious. It doesn't really make any sense, because we're not in a bad place actually. We just haven't had the opportunity for play or sex for a while. In every other way we're all good. But still. I lose my sense of place in the world, I get all uncomfortable and I don't like it.
The more I can behave myself and be the obedient and loving partner my Mistress wants me to be, the better it will be. The sooner we'll get on the right track again. If I start acting up and panic, we'll have to put a lot of valuable time and energy into fixing things, resources better spent having fun. So I'm trying.
I have a paper sign I've made to myself, several years ago, on the refrigerator. It has the words "acceptance, patience, trust" written on it. I try to remember that and be as well as I can in the moment.
Jan 19, 2015
Resolution
In the middle of the fall I wrote about getting another baby. That's still on, but the timeline has shifted. Because that goal I made, about losing 10% body weight? Fail, utterly fail. I know enough about the body and weight loss to not be surprised. It is hard to change, and I didn't have the energy to work enough for it. Because I put that energy into other things, work mostly.
But that's not okay. This fall I've prioritised work and to some extent our kid over Mistress and our relationship and over my own health in a way that isn't okay. For a short time, yes, but not for life.
We've made a deal. Or rather, I've asked her for help. I want to lose weight. And for the first time in my life, I think, I'm not worried about eating disorder or becoming bulimic. I was, for a lot of years, and the ADHD hasn't helped either. But I'm not anymore.I don't get those feelings and thoughts I used to get, and I'm not scared anymore. I don't think I'll want to throw up or get notions about starving myself. It feels safe, finally, and there's a freedom in that.
The last week Mistress has put the food on my plate, and every day I go to work with a bag with my lunch in it, allowed only to eat what's in it. It makes everything ridicolously easy, to be honest. There was this big chocolate and whipped cream cake at work today, a colleague had brought left overs from some week end party. And it wasn't even hard not to eat it. I'm supposed to eat what Mistress sent with me, and therefore it wasn't even a question.
Knowing my usual pattern, this will start to get hard again real soon. And then easy for a while, and then difficult again. Because that is how it works. But right now, I'm just revelling in being Mistress' good girl and in feeling healthy and in tune with my life goals. Good things, all around.
But that's not okay. This fall I've prioritised work and to some extent our kid over Mistress and our relationship and over my own health in a way that isn't okay. For a short time, yes, but not for life.
We've made a deal. Or rather, I've asked her for help. I want to lose weight. And for the first time in my life, I think, I'm not worried about eating disorder or becoming bulimic. I was, for a lot of years, and the ADHD hasn't helped either. But I'm not anymore.I don't get those feelings and thoughts I used to get, and I'm not scared anymore. I don't think I'll want to throw up or get notions about starving myself. It feels safe, finally, and there's a freedom in that.
The last week Mistress has put the food on my plate, and every day I go to work with a bag with my lunch in it, allowed only to eat what's in it. It makes everything ridicolously easy, to be honest. There was this big chocolate and whipped cream cake at work today, a colleague had brought left overs from some week end party. And it wasn't even hard not to eat it. I'm supposed to eat what Mistress sent with me, and therefore it wasn't even a question.
Knowing my usual pattern, this will start to get hard again real soon. And then easy for a while, and then difficult again. Because that is how it works. But right now, I'm just revelling in being Mistress' good girl and in feeling healthy and in tune with my life goals. Good things, all around.
Jan 11, 2015
Her touch
I'm amazed by the feelings I get when she touches me. Not just holding my hand or the cuddle on the sofa in front of the telly, but how it feels when I suddenly realise she wants me. The touch of her hands, the feeling of her mouth to mine, her body close to mine. It's always amazing.
I've been working to much this fall, at least that's how it feels. We've had the everyday life we were asking for, but there hasn't been enough time or energy left for us. We haven't done anything just the two of us, no movie theater or beer at the pub. Nothing, just putting kid to bed, watch Dr Who, go to sleep. That's nok okay. That's not enough.
She just fucked me, hard and lovingly, and now she's making sandwiches to eat in front of the telly. And she told me to go write something, anything, about the kinky side of our life. The silence on here has a direct connection to the all to little focus the power exchange between us, and the love and sex and connection between us, has gotten at the end of 2014. I think there's a good chance that that will change in 2015.
I've been working to much this fall, at least that's how it feels. We've had the everyday life we were asking for, but there hasn't been enough time or energy left for us. We haven't done anything just the two of us, no movie theater or beer at the pub. Nothing, just putting kid to bed, watch Dr Who, go to sleep. That's nok okay. That's not enough.
She just fucked me, hard and lovingly, and now she's making sandwiches to eat in front of the telly. And she told me to go write something, anything, about the kinky side of our life. The silence on here has a direct connection to the all to little focus the power exchange between us, and the love and sex and connection between us, has gotten at the end of 2014. I think there's a good chance that that will change in 2015.
Oct 25, 2014
Life and plans and mice and men...
We've been talking about life goals a bit, about plans for the future and what we want to happen in our lifes. The big stuff, the big picture. I make happy fairy tale plans for the future all the time, with Mistress humouring me and humming along, without making any commitment either way. That's just how we do it, because we have different needs when it comes to planning.
But now Mistress is the one initiating it, and it feels great. When it's just me, it's just dreaming. I can dream all I want, but I can't make anything happen. The wheels doesn't start to turn until she is onboard.
My job contract ends in June 2015. It's very likely I'll be offered another position then, with better pay, at the same place. I could go on doing what I'm doing in the same office with the same colleagues. If I want to.
Mistress has a deal with her employer about working from home for the duration of my job contract, but whether or not she could prolong that is uncertain. It might be okay, it might not, it's hard to say. And I'm not sure she wants to, either, she'll get new assignments at work around that time that might mean she needs to be more on sight anyway.
And in June I'm going to get my license, provided I keep working like I've been for the last six months, and that means the job offers available to me will increase drastically. There's a lot more job offers out there for licensed psychologists than for those just out of school.
In August 2015, little S starts school. That's absolutely crazy, I have a very hard time wrapping my head around that one. But that means wherever we are at that time will be her first year in school, and if we move after that, she's going to have to change schools, and that's a hassle I'd like to spare her. If we can - it might not be possible.
And... the trickiest part. I'm 34. We've been talking about having another baby since little S was born, five years ago. And if we're going to do that, we need to do it sometime soon. It's not to late, not at all, but it's not something that we're comfortable postponing for say another ten years or so either. We could, but the risks increases, and we can't just have sex without protection and hope for the best. If we want a baby, we need to take active steps to make it happen.
Mistress is ten years my senior, and she says she's starting to feel old (mind you, she threatend to whack me in the head with an iron saucepan when I was complaining about feeling old at 18, and she was 28 and had "about to be 30"-angst. So her feeling to old isn't really a new phenomena.)
All this means that the coming year we have to make some big decisions. Where are we going to live, and how are we going to make a living? Are we going to try to have another baby, or are we happy and content with having an only child? We need seclusion and hate having neighbours, but we want good communications and a well stocked grocery store. I dream about dogs and horses, and we both crave nature - woods and water and a view.
How do we reconcile those dreams with our needs to live in a culture rich environment where we feel safe and don't have to deal with prejudice against same-sex couples? Where will little S thrive the most? How do we balance our needs against the need to be close to our respective parents? And jobs - we need jobs that's stimulating and fun and reasonably well paid, and not to far from wherever we choose to live.
Yesterday we were cuddling on the sofa, hashing all this out, pondering this and that and the other, and circled around the question of another baby. I mentioned that when we were discussing it a time table showed up in my head. That we should keep working on being healthy and losing weight, so that I was in the shape I need to be to safely get pregnant at the end of this year, and that we should start arrangements with the relevant hospital in January 2015. If I got pregnant sometime during the spring of 2015, I would be able to finish my job contract, and be eligible for paid parental leave when the baby arrives.
And do you know what Mistress said? She said "I think that sounds reasonable. I feel the same way."
And that means it's on. It's on! It's the best gift I've gotten for a long time. She said yes!
We're going to have another baby!
(We just need to take care of some things first. Like me losing 10% of my current body weight. And oh, actually get pregnant. But apart from that, it's all settled!)
But now Mistress is the one initiating it, and it feels great. When it's just me, it's just dreaming. I can dream all I want, but I can't make anything happen. The wheels doesn't start to turn until she is onboard.
My job contract ends in June 2015. It's very likely I'll be offered another position then, with better pay, at the same place. I could go on doing what I'm doing in the same office with the same colleagues. If I want to.
Mistress has a deal with her employer about working from home for the duration of my job contract, but whether or not she could prolong that is uncertain. It might be okay, it might not, it's hard to say. And I'm not sure she wants to, either, she'll get new assignments at work around that time that might mean she needs to be more on sight anyway.
And in June I'm going to get my license, provided I keep working like I've been for the last six months, and that means the job offers available to me will increase drastically. There's a lot more job offers out there for licensed psychologists than for those just out of school.
In August 2015, little S starts school. That's absolutely crazy, I have a very hard time wrapping my head around that one. But that means wherever we are at that time will be her first year in school, and if we move after that, she's going to have to change schools, and that's a hassle I'd like to spare her. If we can - it might not be possible.
And... the trickiest part. I'm 34. We've been talking about having another baby since little S was born, five years ago. And if we're going to do that, we need to do it sometime soon. It's not to late, not at all, but it's not something that we're comfortable postponing for say another ten years or so either. We could, but the risks increases, and we can't just have sex without protection and hope for the best. If we want a baby, we need to take active steps to make it happen.
Mistress is ten years my senior, and she says she's starting to feel old (mind you, she threatend to whack me in the head with an iron saucepan when I was complaining about feeling old at 18, and she was 28 and had "about to be 30"-angst. So her feeling to old isn't really a new phenomena.)
All this means that the coming year we have to make some big decisions. Where are we going to live, and how are we going to make a living? Are we going to try to have another baby, or are we happy and content with having an only child? We need seclusion and hate having neighbours, but we want good communications and a well stocked grocery store. I dream about dogs and horses, and we both crave nature - woods and water and a view.
How do we reconcile those dreams with our needs to live in a culture rich environment where we feel safe and don't have to deal with prejudice against same-sex couples? Where will little S thrive the most? How do we balance our needs against the need to be close to our respective parents? And jobs - we need jobs that's stimulating and fun and reasonably well paid, and not to far from wherever we choose to live.
Yesterday we were cuddling on the sofa, hashing all this out, pondering this and that and the other, and circled around the question of another baby. I mentioned that when we were discussing it a time table showed up in my head. That we should keep working on being healthy and losing weight, so that I was in the shape I need to be to safely get pregnant at the end of this year, and that we should start arrangements with the relevant hospital in January 2015. If I got pregnant sometime during the spring of 2015, I would be able to finish my job contract, and be eligible for paid parental leave when the baby arrives.
And do you know what Mistress said? She said "I think that sounds reasonable. I feel the same way."
And that means it's on. It's on! It's the best gift I've gotten for a long time. She said yes!
We're going to have another baby!
(We just need to take care of some things first. Like me losing 10% of my current body weight. And oh, actually get pregnant. But apart from that, it's all settled!)
Sep 29, 2014
Everyday life
Did you know that working full time makes it a lot harder to keep up with blogging? I've just noticed...
We're pretty much settled in our new home now, all three of us (four counting the hamster, but I'm not sure he really qualifies as a person. And the fishes totally don't count.) Mistress is working from her office at home or travelling - both to her office at work for hours from here, and all over Europe for meetings, workshops and stuff. She's been gone quite a lot lately, and it's a bit of a hassle. But I'm surprisingly okay with being alone with the kid. I'm exhausted when she's finally back again, and it's very obvious who it is that does the laundry and cleaning in this home (a clue: it's not me), but we get by.
But that working full time thing? So not my thing. I recently re-negotiated to 6 hours/day instead, and it feels a lot better. I earn less, and I wont get my license until June (instead of April) but I won't go bonkers or run straight into a wall again, and that's important too.
The apartment feels like home, and little S seems to like her new pre-school. But... this part of the country isn't our home. We don't have roots here. We don't identify with this place. It might be and adjustment thing, or it might simply be that we're a couple of academic lesbians in a working class town.
We're pretty much settled in our new home now, all three of us (four counting the hamster, but I'm not sure he really qualifies as a person. And the fishes totally don't count.) Mistress is working from her office at home or travelling - both to her office at work for hours from here, and all over Europe for meetings, workshops and stuff. She's been gone quite a lot lately, and it's a bit of a hassle. But I'm surprisingly okay with being alone with the kid. I'm exhausted when she's finally back again, and it's very obvious who it is that does the laundry and cleaning in this home (a clue: it's not me), but we get by.
But that working full time thing? So not my thing. I recently re-negotiated to 6 hours/day instead, and it feels a lot better. I earn less, and I wont get my license until June (instead of April) but I won't go bonkers or run straight into a wall again, and that's important too.
The apartment feels like home, and little S seems to like her new pre-school. But... this part of the country isn't our home. We don't have roots here. We don't identify with this place. It might be and adjustment thing, or it might simply be that we're a couple of academic lesbians in a working class town.
Jun 15, 2014
I'm submissive, but I'm rather good at defending myself
I'm not really comfortable at work right now, which bugs me since it has nothing to do with my actual job or anything I'm hired to do. As far as I can tell, I'm performing perfectly adequately, possibly a bit over expectations, as far as my actual job goes.
Unfortunately, that's not all that it takes to be a good enough employee, and this... this place doesn't really mesh with me. At least not in all aspects.
Last week I had an unfortunate run-in with an arrogant, 70-year old male doctor, who didn't think I provided him with enough service and maintenance when we had a joint assignment with a patient. And I didn't, since I figured he was a colleague and a fellow person whom I supposed I would be cooperating with - not cater to and serve. He didn't appreciate that, and I didn't appreciate him telling me so much.
So. Yeah.
It's the third time someone over the age of sixty kindly but sternly has attempted to tell me how I'm supposed to act and how things are actually done here. I'm getting a bit sick and tired of it.
In the moment, I seem to always find my feet. So far I have an exemplary record of answering calmly and with poise something along the lines of "that's not part of my job description" or "I'm sorry that [this thing I do] makes you uncomfortable, but I'm going to keep doing it for [this and that work-related reason]."
But. That's in the moment. I know I come off as sure of myself, as confident and tough and able to take care of myself. But in the long run, I'm none of those things. I don't want to pick fights with people. I don't want to be critisized or corrected or told I'm doing things wrong, no matter if I agree or not. I don't want to have to defend myself.
Because at the core of me, I'm submissive. I don't want to stand up for myself against arrogant, spoiled old doctors. I want to please and be liked and accomodate. And when I don't, and get called on it, it hurts and rattles me, and now I'm all afraid and unsure of myself and worried and have this angsty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
So why do I do it? Why do I enter a strictly hierarchical system like the public health care system, with ancient traditions of strict ranks and expected obedience, and then refuse to conform? Isn't that kind of stupid, especially if I don't actually like being a rebel, and the consequences of acting like a rebel?
I do it because I really really want to be a psychologist, and because I'm good at it. It's a job I can actually do, and do well, as far as the job goes. The things I've been defending myself against are the demands from the work place that interfers with my ability to do my actual tasks, because the demands interferes with my disability.
I can have ADHD and be an excellent psychologist and therapist. Those roles plays to all my strengths, and barely touches on my weaknesses. That's what I want to do, and something I can do, despite being a scatterbrain with low attention span and a distinct lack in stamina. Under the circumstances offered by this position, I can actually succeed, and perform well above par for the course at this very specialised task.
But. I can only do it if I'm allowed to do precisely that, and not a thousand other things that female employees who's not a doctor routinely are expected to do. I'm not a nurse, or a medical secretary or an orderly, and I'm not any of those things for very good reason - one of them is that I suck at that kind of work. It's not that I think I'm to good to be doing it, it's that I know I'm to bad at it. Very much the same issue I have with being a stay-at-home-mom, incidentally. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that my disability covers exactly the skills that kind of serviceoriented, multitasking job requires.
I can barely administer my own patients, I'm not going to take over those tasks for some doctor too. I can sit in for hours and hours on meaningless meetings where my input isn't asked for - but it takes ridicolous amounts of energy from me, and to preserve some for, you know, my actual job, I've taken up knitting. Straight up scarves, no patterns, and wooden knits that doesn't make any sounds. And still someone felt she had to come and tell me "we don't do that here". Ah well, yes we do. I do - because without it I'm not going to be able to do my job, and I'm not willing to compromise with that. And so on, ad infinutim. It feels like I'm constantly surprising people or disturbing people, just by trying to exist in the workplace and create a space where I can do my job.
So basically - I have a job with tasks I love doing and that I'm good at. I want to please and accomodate and be a good employee, in accordance with my submissive, labradoresque soul. But, unfortunately, other sources at work gets in the way, and my tactics for trying to do my job crashes against unwritten rules and expectations in the workplace. And since I'm very very anxious to do my job, I'm unwilling to compromise with the groups informal rules and the informal leaders display of status.
And of course, I have a life long experience of never fitting in, of never being good enough, of never getting the social codes anyway, and of always feeling slightly like an alien. If I was good at conforming and listening to what other people expect of me, I wouldn't have my family right now, because me and Mistress wouldn't have been together. So, on the whole, it works in my favour, I would say.
I'll just hang in there, be myself, keep on not letting people bully my or push me around, defending my position as psychologist and my right to do the job I'm actually paid to do, and to not be burdened down with a thousand other tasks that's not part of the job description (because I'm to handicapped to deal with that - I don't have the resources), and if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, let the bosses fire me, if that's what they want to do. I'm not backing down, and I'm not quitting. I'm goint to keep going straight ahead in my valued direction, in being as good as I can be at my job, and not take responsibility for the myriad of things that aren't working in the organisation and that I don't have any power over.
But I long for the move. And for vacation. In to weeks time I have three weeks off, and when I return to work, I'll be living with Mistress again. I need her. I need her to tell me what's really important, who it is I'm really supposed to be pleasing, and who I belong to. And it's not the public health service organisation, nor it's elderly employees.
Unfortunately, that's not all that it takes to be a good enough employee, and this... this place doesn't really mesh with me. At least not in all aspects.
Last week I had an unfortunate run-in with an arrogant, 70-year old male doctor, who didn't think I provided him with enough service and maintenance when we had a joint assignment with a patient. And I didn't, since I figured he was a colleague and a fellow person whom I supposed I would be cooperating with - not cater to and serve. He didn't appreciate that, and I didn't appreciate him telling me so much.
So. Yeah.
It's the third time someone over the age of sixty kindly but sternly has attempted to tell me how I'm supposed to act and how things are actually done here. I'm getting a bit sick and tired of it.
In the moment, I seem to always find my feet. So far I have an exemplary record of answering calmly and with poise something along the lines of "that's not part of my job description" or "I'm sorry that [this thing I do] makes you uncomfortable, but I'm going to keep doing it for [this and that work-related reason]."
But. That's in the moment. I know I come off as sure of myself, as confident and tough and able to take care of myself. But in the long run, I'm none of those things. I don't want to pick fights with people. I don't want to be critisized or corrected or told I'm doing things wrong, no matter if I agree or not. I don't want to have to defend myself.
Because at the core of me, I'm submissive. I don't want to stand up for myself against arrogant, spoiled old doctors. I want to please and be liked and accomodate. And when I don't, and get called on it, it hurts and rattles me, and now I'm all afraid and unsure of myself and worried and have this angsty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
So why do I do it? Why do I enter a strictly hierarchical system like the public health care system, with ancient traditions of strict ranks and expected obedience, and then refuse to conform? Isn't that kind of stupid, especially if I don't actually like being a rebel, and the consequences of acting like a rebel?
I do it because I really really want to be a psychologist, and because I'm good at it. It's a job I can actually do, and do well, as far as the job goes. The things I've been defending myself against are the demands from the work place that interfers with my ability to do my actual tasks, because the demands interferes with my disability.
I can have ADHD and be an excellent psychologist and therapist. Those roles plays to all my strengths, and barely touches on my weaknesses. That's what I want to do, and something I can do, despite being a scatterbrain with low attention span and a distinct lack in stamina. Under the circumstances offered by this position, I can actually succeed, and perform well above par for the course at this very specialised task.
But. I can only do it if I'm allowed to do precisely that, and not a thousand other things that female employees who's not a doctor routinely are expected to do. I'm not a nurse, or a medical secretary or an orderly, and I'm not any of those things for very good reason - one of them is that I suck at that kind of work. It's not that I think I'm to good to be doing it, it's that I know I'm to bad at it. Very much the same issue I have with being a stay-at-home-mom, incidentally. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that my disability covers exactly the skills that kind of serviceoriented, multitasking job requires.
I can barely administer my own patients, I'm not going to take over those tasks for some doctor too. I can sit in for hours and hours on meaningless meetings where my input isn't asked for - but it takes ridicolous amounts of energy from me, and to preserve some for, you know, my actual job, I've taken up knitting. Straight up scarves, no patterns, and wooden knits that doesn't make any sounds. And still someone felt she had to come and tell me "we don't do that here". Ah well, yes we do. I do - because without it I'm not going to be able to do my job, and I'm not willing to compromise with that. And so on, ad infinutim. It feels like I'm constantly surprising people or disturbing people, just by trying to exist in the workplace and create a space where I can do my job.
So basically - I have a job with tasks I love doing and that I'm good at. I want to please and accomodate and be a good employee, in accordance with my submissive, labradoresque soul. But, unfortunately, other sources at work gets in the way, and my tactics for trying to do my job crashes against unwritten rules and expectations in the workplace. And since I'm very very anxious to do my job, I'm unwilling to compromise with the groups informal rules and the informal leaders display of status.
And of course, I have a life long experience of never fitting in, of never being good enough, of never getting the social codes anyway, and of always feeling slightly like an alien. If I was good at conforming and listening to what other people expect of me, I wouldn't have my family right now, because me and Mistress wouldn't have been together. So, on the whole, it works in my favour, I would say.
I'll just hang in there, be myself, keep on not letting people bully my or push me around, defending my position as psychologist and my right to do the job I'm actually paid to do, and to not be burdened down with a thousand other tasks that's not part of the job description (because I'm to handicapped to deal with that - I don't have the resources), and if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, let the bosses fire me, if that's what they want to do. I'm not backing down, and I'm not quitting. I'm goint to keep going straight ahead in my valued direction, in being as good as I can be at my job, and not take responsibility for the myriad of things that aren't working in the organisation and that I don't have any power over.
But I long for the move. And for vacation. In to weeks time I have three weeks off, and when I return to work, I'll be living with Mistress again. I need her. I need her to tell me what's really important, who it is I'm really supposed to be pleasing, and who I belong to. And it's not the public health service organisation, nor it's elderly employees.
Jun 1, 2014
Moving, and different strategies
Moving is hard. We got into an argument yesterday over trying to plan things out. Suddenly we couldn't talk to each other, we just got mad and desperate and nothing she said made sense to me, and she looked at me as if I was talking a foreign language. At one point I declared "well, if you're going to be like that, you can plan it all by yourself!" and stalked off to a different room to sulk.
Slave of the year, that's me.
Anyway, ten minutes later she ordered me back, showed me a chair and said I wasn't allowed to leave again until she said I could, and that we would resume our planning, with her using any tone of voice she damned well choose and I just had to stand it. And that, of course, made everything much better.
Later on we talked about it some more. What went wrong, why we seemd to bump heads all the time. And one of the things that came up was that I'm really really afraid that she'll change her mind. Either that she would decide that it's to much hassle to move, and I'll have to quit the job and move back home, which would be a bummer, but I could live with it. Or, worse, that she would say it's to much hassle to move and I should keep commuting to my job for another ten months, since I've been pulling it off so far. And that I couldn't live with. Not with my sanity intact.
And since that's what I'm secretly afraid of, every change of plans or possible delay freaks me out. When Mistress said she'd rather not celebrate Midsummer at our new apartment but rather at her parents cabin, I freaked. Likewise when she worried that we won't be able to afford movers.
Add to that that we have radically different ways of processing difficult situations, it gets really interesting. I get through hard times by ignoring as much as possible, focus on the end goal, and muddle through. Mistress worry and fret and complain and plan everything in detail, and borrows a lot of trouble in my opinion, but she always manages things in the end. For her, things mostly turns out to not be as bad as she thought they would be. For me, there's always disaster in the wings, unforeseen troubles attacking me without notice.
The point isn't whether the strategies are good or bad, they're both and neither, but that they tend to counter act each other. When Mistress worry and fret and complains, she wants me to be her sounding board, to hear her out and listen while she solves the problem, by coming at it again and again from different angles. Reasonable and effective and something I'm good at when the problem in question isn't something that matters to me, like her work or things like that.
But for me, I either do or I do not. If I'm ever at the point that I'm saying or thinking all the negative things Mistress gives voice to when planning something difficult, I'm already out of there. When I start worrying about something, I'm ready to give it up. If I'm going to do something, I do it, and after the decision is made, I can't go back and ponder it again, because if I do, I quit. But Mistress needs me to listen to her pondering about it, and well... it freaks me out.
Especially when I forget that she's a different person than I am, and interpret her behaviour as if it was me doing it. Then her problem solving to me means she's given up and isn't going to go through with it. Which, in my deepest fears, leaves me stranded and alone in a strange town, hours from my family, abandoned and dispensable.
That's not what's going on, of course. First she gave me a solemn promise that as from the 1st of July, we're all going to be living in the same apartment again. And then, she ordered me naked, used candle wax on me, beat me and fucked me. And then all was right in the world again.
But moving is a hassle.
Slave of the year, that's me.
Anyway, ten minutes later she ordered me back, showed me a chair and said I wasn't allowed to leave again until she said I could, and that we would resume our planning, with her using any tone of voice she damned well choose and I just had to stand it. And that, of course, made everything much better.
Later on we talked about it some more. What went wrong, why we seemd to bump heads all the time. And one of the things that came up was that I'm really really afraid that she'll change her mind. Either that she would decide that it's to much hassle to move, and I'll have to quit the job and move back home, which would be a bummer, but I could live with it. Or, worse, that she would say it's to much hassle to move and I should keep commuting to my job for another ten months, since I've been pulling it off so far. And that I couldn't live with. Not with my sanity intact.
And since that's what I'm secretly afraid of, every change of plans or possible delay freaks me out. When Mistress said she'd rather not celebrate Midsummer at our new apartment but rather at her parents cabin, I freaked. Likewise when she worried that we won't be able to afford movers.
Add to that that we have radically different ways of processing difficult situations, it gets really interesting. I get through hard times by ignoring as much as possible, focus on the end goal, and muddle through. Mistress worry and fret and complain and plan everything in detail, and borrows a lot of trouble in my opinion, but she always manages things in the end. For her, things mostly turns out to not be as bad as she thought they would be. For me, there's always disaster in the wings, unforeseen troubles attacking me without notice.
The point isn't whether the strategies are good or bad, they're both and neither, but that they tend to counter act each other. When Mistress worry and fret and complains, she wants me to be her sounding board, to hear her out and listen while she solves the problem, by coming at it again and again from different angles. Reasonable and effective and something I'm good at when the problem in question isn't something that matters to me, like her work or things like that.
But for me, I either do or I do not. If I'm ever at the point that I'm saying or thinking all the negative things Mistress gives voice to when planning something difficult, I'm already out of there. When I start worrying about something, I'm ready to give it up. If I'm going to do something, I do it, and after the decision is made, I can't go back and ponder it again, because if I do, I quit. But Mistress needs me to listen to her pondering about it, and well... it freaks me out.
Especially when I forget that she's a different person than I am, and interpret her behaviour as if it was me doing it. Then her problem solving to me means she's given up and isn't going to go through with it. Which, in my deepest fears, leaves me stranded and alone in a strange town, hours from my family, abandoned and dispensable.
That's not what's going on, of course. First she gave me a solemn promise that as from the 1st of July, we're all going to be living in the same apartment again. And then, she ordered me naked, used candle wax on me, beat me and fucked me. And then all was right in the world again.
But moving is a hassle.
May 25, 2014
The important things
I'm still owned. Actually, being away from Mistress this much, having to make do on my own on a level I haven't experienced for quite a few years, have underscored how much I belong to her, more then anything else. I was afraid we would drift further and further apart, but we haven't.
I miss her knowing exactly what I do all the time every day. She knows in general now, in the same way I know about her days. She's seen my office at work, she's seen the room I sleep in at my friends house, she knows more or less what it is that I do. But it's not things she has ever done, and I sleep in a bed she has never slept in. She doesn't know what I have for lunch or dinner, she doesn't know what clothes I wear (though she knows exactly what clothes I have to choose from, of course), she doesn't know if I slept well or if I had nightmares.
Some of it I manage to tell her, we share as much as we can, but all those details aren't that interesting to talk about the precious moments we have on the phone each day. I'd rather tell her how I feel or what I think, than what I'm wearing or had for lunch, and she's more interested in hearing that too. But this separation, this dividing of our everyday life, it's strange. I'm still hers, but... it's on a really long leash.
I've been working since the 7th of April, so almost two months by now. The first week I left on Monday and came home Friday afternoon, but that's the only week I've been away four nights in a row. There's been a lot of red-letter-days, thankfully, and I've taken out vacation days for the rest. Last week I worked half day on Wednesday and came in an hour late on Thursday, so that I could take the train home and pick up little S from pre-school and sleep a night in my own bed. I can't go four nights without checking in on my baby. It hurts to much. It's like a low level stress, that intensifies as time goes on.
If you have kids, or ever babysat someone elses for that matter - you know that feeling when you're in a supermarket or similar place with a small child, and you look away for a second and then you can't see the kid anymore? You look around, feeling the panic rising, calling out in a low voice, walking around shelves and trying to see as much as possible around you, looking for that special little jacket or pixie cap or whatever it is that you remember the kid wearing? That worry, that rising panic, that focus on finding him or her and making sure everythings alright? You know that feeling?
That's how I feel after a few days when I haven't seen little S. Diluted, maybe like only a tenth of the supermarket-panic, but constant. When I haven't smelled her, touched her, made sure she's alright for a couple of days, I'm not okay anymore. I need my baby. I need to be with her, to be her mommy, to hug her and hold her hand, and talk to her and listen to her talk (incessantly...) to feel safe, to feel okay, to feel that I'm where I'm supposed to be in the world.
I don't need to be with her all day every day, quite the opposite actually. I like going to work, I'm happy that she's big enough to be at pre-school, I'm relieved that the days of constant guarding and catering to a small baby's every need 24/7 is behind us. I like that she falls asleep at seven in the evening and wakes up at 6.30 in the morning. But I need to see her twice a day, at least, or else I can't relax and enjoy my grown up life. And not only through Skype, or being told she's alright - I need to smell her. I'm thinking it's a mammal thing.
I miss Mistress as much, but in a different way. I'm more okay with not smelling her or touching her every day, but I really really miss the amount of time we used to have. Not enough time, never enough, but a lot more than now. We're back where we where a couple of years ago, getting just enough time to say the most important things, but never really spending hours and hours together.
Except for long weekends at her parents cabin, where we'll be going on Thursday, four days from now. I'm so looking forward to it.
At the end of June they're moving to me, we've fixed most of the things that needs fixing. Little S has a place at new pre-school, and we have a lease on an apartment. The current problem is that the apartment building hasn't got broadband, and we need to figure out a way to get good enough internet connection for Mistress to be able to work from home. She deals with a lot of big files and video conferences, and needs high speed connection. Ah well. We're going to fix that too.
My job is great, as far as the actual job goes. Several of the people at my job arn't as great, though. There's around 40 people at the workplace in totat, and out of those two or three annoys me no end. I guess it's called "working with other people". I take a lot of strength from being Mistress', from knowing my place in the world, from knowing I have a family and a home and an identity that has nothing to do with jerks at work, and every time I've been home I return to work feeling like myself again, feeling centered and ready for anything.
And soon soon soon that will be every afternoon. I can't wait.
I miss her knowing exactly what I do all the time every day. She knows in general now, in the same way I know about her days. She's seen my office at work, she's seen the room I sleep in at my friends house, she knows more or less what it is that I do. But it's not things she has ever done, and I sleep in a bed she has never slept in. She doesn't know what I have for lunch or dinner, she doesn't know what clothes I wear (though she knows exactly what clothes I have to choose from, of course), she doesn't know if I slept well or if I had nightmares.
Some of it I manage to tell her, we share as much as we can, but all those details aren't that interesting to talk about the precious moments we have on the phone each day. I'd rather tell her how I feel or what I think, than what I'm wearing or had for lunch, and she's more interested in hearing that too. But this separation, this dividing of our everyday life, it's strange. I'm still hers, but... it's on a really long leash.
I've been working since the 7th of April, so almost two months by now. The first week I left on Monday and came home Friday afternoon, but that's the only week I've been away four nights in a row. There's been a lot of red-letter-days, thankfully, and I've taken out vacation days for the rest. Last week I worked half day on Wednesday and came in an hour late on Thursday, so that I could take the train home and pick up little S from pre-school and sleep a night in my own bed. I can't go four nights without checking in on my baby. It hurts to much. It's like a low level stress, that intensifies as time goes on.
If you have kids, or ever babysat someone elses for that matter - you know that feeling when you're in a supermarket or similar place with a small child, and you look away for a second and then you can't see the kid anymore? You look around, feeling the panic rising, calling out in a low voice, walking around shelves and trying to see as much as possible around you, looking for that special little jacket or pixie cap or whatever it is that you remember the kid wearing? That worry, that rising panic, that focus on finding him or her and making sure everythings alright? You know that feeling?
That's how I feel after a few days when I haven't seen little S. Diluted, maybe like only a tenth of the supermarket-panic, but constant. When I haven't smelled her, touched her, made sure she's alright for a couple of days, I'm not okay anymore. I need my baby. I need to be with her, to be her mommy, to hug her and hold her hand, and talk to her and listen to her talk (incessantly...) to feel safe, to feel okay, to feel that I'm where I'm supposed to be in the world.
I don't need to be with her all day every day, quite the opposite actually. I like going to work, I'm happy that she's big enough to be at pre-school, I'm relieved that the days of constant guarding and catering to a small baby's every need 24/7 is behind us. I like that she falls asleep at seven in the evening and wakes up at 6.30 in the morning. But I need to see her twice a day, at least, or else I can't relax and enjoy my grown up life. And not only through Skype, or being told she's alright - I need to smell her. I'm thinking it's a mammal thing.
I miss Mistress as much, but in a different way. I'm more okay with not smelling her or touching her every day, but I really really miss the amount of time we used to have. Not enough time, never enough, but a lot more than now. We're back where we where a couple of years ago, getting just enough time to say the most important things, but never really spending hours and hours together.
Except for long weekends at her parents cabin, where we'll be going on Thursday, four days from now. I'm so looking forward to it.
At the end of June they're moving to me, we've fixed most of the things that needs fixing. Little S has a place at new pre-school, and we have a lease on an apartment. The current problem is that the apartment building hasn't got broadband, and we need to figure out a way to get good enough internet connection for Mistress to be able to work from home. She deals with a lot of big files and video conferences, and needs high speed connection. Ah well. We're going to fix that too.
My job is great, as far as the actual job goes. Several of the people at my job arn't as great, though. There's around 40 people at the workplace in totat, and out of those two or three annoys me no end. I guess it's called "working with other people". I take a lot of strength from being Mistress', from knowing my place in the world, from knowing I have a family and a home and an identity that has nothing to do with jerks at work, and every time I've been home I return to work feeling like myself again, feeling centered and ready for anything.
And soon soon soon that will be every afternoon. I can't wait.
Apr 29, 2014
Longing
Did you guys know that working full time means less time to write blog posts? Huh! Who'dhavethunk?
I'm very very much in two minds about the whole thing. I like the job. I love being a therapist. I hate being away from Mistress, and I feel all lost and alone and shaky because I don't have my family with me.
I'm still hers. Amazingly, that doesn't waiver. But oh my God it's hard to be separated.
I'm very very much in two minds about the whole thing. I like the job. I love being a therapist. I hate being away from Mistress, and I feel all lost and alone and shaky because I don't have my family with me.
I'm still hers. Amazingly, that doesn't waiver. But oh my God it's hard to be separated.
Apr 12, 2014
Life change
And then, all of a sudden, I got a job offer. And accepted. I started six days ago, and since the workplace is 1,5 hours from home, I've been living in a hostel all week.
We're okay. I'm okay, a lot more okay than I thought I would be actually. But everything about our day to day life has been turned upside down, and we're reeling a bit from the shock of it. And has a ton of things to do, and a lot of major decisions to make.
I thought I'd be blogging a lot about the job and the change, but I think I've been to busy living it to have time or energy to reflect all that much. That will come later, but for now, I'm pretty much in the moment. Good thing, I think.
I wont be Mistress' stay-at-home-slave anymore for a while. The plan is to work full time for a year, provided we can stand it and no one gets sick. After that, we're pretty agreed on me not working full time ever ever again. But that's then. Now is now. And I'm not really sure how I feel about it all.
We're okay. I'm okay, a lot more okay than I thought I would be actually. But everything about our day to day life has been turned upside down, and we're reeling a bit from the shock of it. And has a ton of things to do, and a lot of major decisions to make.
I thought I'd be blogging a lot about the job and the change, but I think I've been to busy living it to have time or energy to reflect all that much. That will come later, but for now, I'm pretty much in the moment. Good thing, I think.
I wont be Mistress' stay-at-home-slave anymore for a while. The plan is to work full time for a year, provided we can stand it and no one gets sick. After that, we're pretty agreed on me not working full time ever ever again. But that's then. Now is now. And I'm not really sure how I feel about it all.
Mar 11, 2014
Questions 4! Babymaking.
Did you have the baby and how did you get pregnant?
Yeah, I had the baby. I really wanted to be pregnant and give birth, and Mistress really really didn't. We both wanted to have kids together, but it took like three seconds for us to figure out who would do the actual baby-building.
We went to the local hospital and I got inseminated with donor sperm. The donor is anonymous, but the kid can find out who he is, and read a letter he wrote when he donated, when she's 18. Since 2006 the rules for treatment of infertility in Swedish healthcare are the same for lesbian couples as for straight couples, so it all went relatively easy. It was about a year from the first phone call to the clinic until I was pregnant.
How are lesbians treated in Sweden?
I don't know if there's an easy answer to that one. On the one hand me and Mistress could get married, and had the right to assisted insemination at the hospital. No one is making fun of our kid at pre school or other places for having two moms (as far as I know) and me and Mistress holds hands on walks without usually thinking twice about it. On the other hand, there's two major political parties in Swedish parliament that are openly homophobic and they have about 20% of the Swedish votes, so it's not like it's universally accepted. It's not as if there's no homophobia or judgement going around, and we're often thankful that we live in a urban part of the country, where we're not alone.
Better than most of the rest of the world, I'd say, but still fucked up. Something like that.
Yeah, I had the baby. I really wanted to be pregnant and give birth, and Mistress really really didn't. We both wanted to have kids together, but it took like three seconds for us to figure out who would do the actual baby-building.
We went to the local hospital and I got inseminated with donor sperm. The donor is anonymous, but the kid can find out who he is, and read a letter he wrote when he donated, when she's 18. Since 2006 the rules for treatment of infertility in Swedish healthcare are the same for lesbian couples as for straight couples, so it all went relatively easy. It was about a year from the first phone call to the clinic until I was pregnant.
How are lesbians treated in Sweden?
I don't know if there's an easy answer to that one. On the one hand me and Mistress could get married, and had the right to assisted insemination at the hospital. No one is making fun of our kid at pre school or other places for having two moms (as far as I know) and me and Mistress holds hands on walks without usually thinking twice about it. On the other hand, there's two major political parties in Swedish parliament that are openly homophobic and they have about 20% of the Swedish votes, so it's not like it's universally accepted. It's not as if there's no homophobia or judgement going around, and we're often thankful that we live in a urban part of the country, where we're not alone.
Better than most of the rest of the world, I'd say, but still fucked up. Something like that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)