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.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Jan 19, 2015
Mar 9, 2014
Getting through the days
March is question-month, and I want in on it. That is, I'd love to get questions since I usually have no idea who reads this and I'd love to getting hints of things to blog about. So if anyone want to know anything about me, just post a question in the comments, and I'll answer it.
More than question-month, March for us have been sickness month. When we got home from Paris, little S got chickenpox and I got the flu. Yesterday was the first day in two weeks I could take a bike ride without wanting to puke or cough up my lungs. Little S is still covered in scabs from the 'pox but at least she was virus-free and her old happy self again.
Except that she spent all day complaining about tummy ache, and half an hour before bedtime she throw up. She kept throwing up every halv hour the rest of the evening, and Mistress who slept in her room said that she was sick the last time at 2.30. Yey.
And I just shut down a bit for the time being. I don't want to play this game, but there's nowhere else to go. We'll just live through it and believe that we will get healthy again, despite the evidence to the contrary.
I was at a job interview last Thursday, and I will be going to another one next Thursday (unless I'm puking my guts out at the time). There's some kind of low level anxiety humming in the background all the time, and it contributes to me freaking out. What if no one wants me? What if they do want me? What if both jobs want me? And then again, what if they don't? What if no one will want to hire me ever? What if there's something wrong with me? And so on and so forth.
If I do get a job offer, I'll start fretting over whether or not I can do the job, and about the fact that it means we'll have to move and all the hassle that entails. But that's next on my fret list. For now, I'm stuck on "no one will ever want to employ me". Oh, and "we'll never have sex again, 'cause we'll be sick forever". Happy fun time all around.
More than question-month, March for us have been sickness month. When we got home from Paris, little S got chickenpox and I got the flu. Yesterday was the first day in two weeks I could take a bike ride without wanting to puke or cough up my lungs. Little S is still covered in scabs from the 'pox but at least she was virus-free and her old happy self again.
Except that she spent all day complaining about tummy ache, and half an hour before bedtime she throw up. She kept throwing up every halv hour the rest of the evening, and Mistress who slept in her room said that she was sick the last time at 2.30. Yey.
And I just shut down a bit for the time being. I don't want to play this game, but there's nowhere else to go. We'll just live through it and believe that we will get healthy again, despite the evidence to the contrary.
I was at a job interview last Thursday, and I will be going to another one next Thursday (unless I'm puking my guts out at the time). There's some kind of low level anxiety humming in the background all the time, and it contributes to me freaking out. What if no one wants me? What if they do want me? What if both jobs want me? And then again, what if they don't? What if no one will want to hire me ever? What if there's something wrong with me? And so on and so forth.
If I do get a job offer, I'll start fretting over whether or not I can do the job, and about the fact that it means we'll have to move and all the hassle that entails. But that's next on my fret list. For now, I'm stuck on "no one will ever want to employ me". Oh, and "we'll never have sex again, 'cause we'll be sick forever". Happy fun time all around.
Feb 25, 2014
General misery
Yesterday we had this huge breakdown and fight, with both of us feeling betrayed and pissed off and misunderstood and panicky. I hate when that happens.
At one point, just before I went to bed, I was on the toilet, trying to pee, but instead rocking back and forth in despair, crying soundlessly and hardly able to breath from heartache. It was the most miserable I have been in years, my brain was in some sort of panicky, primal state where everything is gone except misery.
Right now Mistress is in Tallinn, Estonia. Little S is in bed covered in chickenpox. I have the flu. The state of our little family is rather pitiful at the moment.
But we skyped just now, and talked for almost an hour about what went wrong yesterday. Apparently, Mistress assumes I will tell her without prompting if my cold develops into the flu with high fever, even if she's to busy to actually ask how I'm feeling. The fact that I assumes that if she wanted to know how I was she would ask doesn't exactly help, though. There might have been a slight misunderstanding regarding this, yesterday.
Right now, I'm going to obey orders and go to bed. I miss her.
I miss her.
I miss her.
I miss her.
At one point, just before I went to bed, I was on the toilet, trying to pee, but instead rocking back and forth in despair, crying soundlessly and hardly able to breath from heartache. It was the most miserable I have been in years, my brain was in some sort of panicky, primal state where everything is gone except misery.
Right now Mistress is in Tallinn, Estonia. Little S is in bed covered in chickenpox. I have the flu. The state of our little family is rather pitiful at the moment.
But we skyped just now, and talked for almost an hour about what went wrong yesterday. Apparently, Mistress assumes I will tell her without prompting if my cold develops into the flu with high fever, even if she's to busy to actually ask how I'm feeling. The fact that I assumes that if she wanted to know how I was she would ask doesn't exactly help, though. There might have been a slight misunderstanding regarding this, yesterday.
Right now, I'm going to obey orders and go to bed. I miss her.
I miss her.
I miss her.
I miss her.
Jan 30, 2014
Spanking new and shiny
She's home now, and the moment I saw her it was like a weight lifted from my shoulders, and as if someone clubbed me in the head at the same time. Intense relief and killing fatigue. She's home. I'm not alone anymore.
I tend to liken myself to dogs occasionally, and when she's away that's even more apt than usual. Because I really act like a dog whose owner went out and the dog walks from window to window, restlessly checking everything, not settling down, not eating, just walking and waiting and checking everything out incessantly. Until the owner comes home and the dog collapses in an exhausted pile of fur on the carpet and sleeps for twelve hours straight.
To lessen my anxiety I actually made something for her while she was away. That speaks volumes of my increased health, that I don't have to use all my energy just to manage the bare necessities, I can do a little more than that. So I got inspired and turned one of our kitchen implements, a wooden spatula, into a spanking thingy.
I drilled six holes in it, sandpapered it and then applied black shiny varnish. I screwed up and used too much varnish the first time around so I had to sandpaper it all off and re-apply it, which was a bit of a hassle since it took ten hours to dry and needed two layers. But I got it done in time, and it felt really good to do something. To create something with my hands, and to work with wood, which is my favourite material.
She tried it out a little on me yesterday, and declared that I was so going to regret making it. I think she's right, in the best way possible.
They haven't called me back about the job, and I'm thinking that means they picked someone else. Part of me feel horrible about that, but I think I'll manage. It's a bit unsettling having no idea what my immediate future will look like, but it's okay. I'm in a good spot - I would love to be able to move forward with our plans and our lifes, but it's okay to just be here too.
Even though I almost started to cry this morning when little S and I played house and she made me the mommy of two dolls, stating they where her little twin sisters. I want babies! I want her to have siblings for real. Or sibling, since I don't imagine I'm going to be pregnant more than one more time in life. But I want that time, I want another baby. (Twins would be good, though. I'd love twins. Too bad Nature doesn't take requests.)
And the job is connected to the having babies-thing, because it would make a lot of sense economically and career-wise for me to work for a while so that I can become a licensed psychologist before I take time off to be a mom again. I'll probably be in an even worse spot looking for work if there's three or four years between getting the exam and my first job. I've heard employers frown upon that kind of gap in one's resumé. Also, I'm a bit afraid that if I don't get that done now, maybe I never will, and then I will never be a psychologist, not really, and would have worked my butt (and my sanity) off for seven years for nothing. That would sting a bit.
I want to do this. I want to get a job and work as a psychologist. If I don't get a position anytime soon, though, we might have to move for me to be able to do that, and meh. That's not something I'm looking forward to.
I tend to liken myself to dogs occasionally, and when she's away that's even more apt than usual. Because I really act like a dog whose owner went out and the dog walks from window to window, restlessly checking everything, not settling down, not eating, just walking and waiting and checking everything out incessantly. Until the owner comes home and the dog collapses in an exhausted pile of fur on the carpet and sleeps for twelve hours straight.
To lessen my anxiety I actually made something for her while she was away. That speaks volumes of my increased health, that I don't have to use all my energy just to manage the bare necessities, I can do a little more than that. So I got inspired and turned one of our kitchen implements, a wooden spatula, into a spanking thingy.
I drilled six holes in it, sandpapered it and then applied black shiny varnish. I screwed up and used too much varnish the first time around so I had to sandpaper it all off and re-apply it, which was a bit of a hassle since it took ten hours to dry and needed two layers. But I got it done in time, and it felt really good to do something. To create something with my hands, and to work with wood, which is my favourite material.
She tried it out a little on me yesterday, and declared that I was so going to regret making it. I think she's right, in the best way possible.
They haven't called me back about the job, and I'm thinking that means they picked someone else. Part of me feel horrible about that, but I think I'll manage. It's a bit unsettling having no idea what my immediate future will look like, but it's okay. I'm in a good spot - I would love to be able to move forward with our plans and our lifes, but it's okay to just be here too.
Even though I almost started to cry this morning when little S and I played house and she made me the mommy of two dolls, stating they where her little twin sisters. I want babies! I want her to have siblings for real. Or sibling, since I don't imagine I'm going to be pregnant more than one more time in life. But I want that time, I want another baby. (Twins would be good, though. I'd love twins. Too bad Nature doesn't take requests.)
And the job is connected to the having babies-thing, because it would make a lot of sense economically and career-wise for me to work for a while so that I can become a licensed psychologist before I take time off to be a mom again. I'll probably be in an even worse spot looking for work if there's three or four years between getting the exam and my first job. I've heard employers frown upon that kind of gap in one's resumé. Also, I'm a bit afraid that if I don't get that done now, maybe I never will, and then I will never be a psychologist, not really, and would have worked my butt (and my sanity) off for seven years for nothing. That would sting a bit.
I want to do this. I want to get a job and work as a psychologist. If I don't get a position anytime soon, though, we might have to move for me to be able to do that, and meh. That's not something I'm looking forward to.
Jan 27, 2014
Life in general
I kind of fell off the interwebz during the Holidays. And a bit longer. I need silence to order my thoughts, and there's been a lot going on. Mostly just that Mistress was on vacation from work and little S was home, so I didn't need my computer to keep me company.
Today Mistress flew to Copenhagen for work, she'll be back Wednesday. I'm lost and confused as usual when she's away, but not as angsty as I used to be. I'm healthier now, I have more energy and recuperate a lot faster than before when I do get exhausted, so I'm not as scared to be alone. It still sucks, though.
In general my life is awesome. I might get a job offer this week, I was interviewed for a position last week. If I get it, my awesome life will change tremendously. If I don't get it, it will go on as before with the important difference that I'll be more aware of how awesome it really is and how much I'll appreciate it. Whether I get this job or not, being home like I am now and having this much time to myself is a short interlude in my life, a rare treat, and I'll savour it while it lasts.
Today Mistress flew to Copenhagen for work, she'll be back Wednesday. I'm lost and confused as usual when she's away, but not as angsty as I used to be. I'm healthier now, I have more energy and recuperate a lot faster than before when I do get exhausted, so I'm not as scared to be alone. It still sucks, though.
In general my life is awesome. I might get a job offer this week, I was interviewed for a position last week. If I get it, my awesome life will change tremendously. If I don't get it, it will go on as before with the important difference that I'll be more aware of how awesome it really is and how much I'll appreciate it. Whether I get this job or not, being home like I am now and having this much time to myself is a short interlude in my life, a rare treat, and I'll savour it while it lasts.
Dec 19, 2013
Winter and viruses
Okay, so November and December has played out like this for me; first a nasty cold that lasted about a week. Immediately after that, another nasty cold that lasted for about a week. At the end of that Mistress was travelling for a few days, and I made the extremely stupid decision to eat an ice-cream that turned out to be covered in hazelnuts. I'm allergic to hazelnuts. In the end I ate horrible allergy medicin for ten days, which had all kinds of icky side-effects, including mind-numbing fatigue.
Eventually I could stop eating those horrid pills, we hade a nice, slow mini-vacation at my in-laws place and I was starting to feel like human again. Two days after we got home little S got a stomach bug and was a puking, pityful mess for two days, and right after that her cough got worse and she too got a cold. And well, I followed suit, got the stomach bug and now the cold.
I hate viruses! I hate winter! I hate being sick. I haven't been to the gym for over a month.
And if I ever thought I don't contribute to the household or ease Mistress' burden? Well, I'm wrong. When I'm under the weather, it shows.
I want to go to the gym! I want to have sex! I want to feel healthy and not worry about spreading viruses to people I meet.
Also, my mom had a stroke this week. Not a big one, she lost part of her vocabulary and felt dizzy and confused but not more than that, and she's already recovering. But it scared the hell out of us, and I'm probably a bit in denial still. I'm not really ready to think through the ramifications of this, and neither is she I think.
Anyway, sucky month in a lot of ways. I'm longing for spring.
Eventually I could stop eating those horrid pills, we hade a nice, slow mini-vacation at my in-laws place and I was starting to feel like human again. Two days after we got home little S got a stomach bug and was a puking, pityful mess for two days, and right after that her cough got worse and she too got a cold. And well, I followed suit, got the stomach bug and now the cold.
I hate viruses! I hate winter! I hate being sick. I haven't been to the gym for over a month.
And if I ever thought I don't contribute to the household or ease Mistress' burden? Well, I'm wrong. When I'm under the weather, it shows.
I want to go to the gym! I want to have sex! I want to feel healthy and not worry about spreading viruses to people I meet.
Also, my mom had a stroke this week. Not a big one, she lost part of her vocabulary and felt dizzy and confused but not more than that, and she's already recovering. But it scared the hell out of us, and I'm probably a bit in denial still. I'm not really ready to think through the ramifications of this, and neither is she I think.
Anyway, sucky month in a lot of ways. I'm longing for spring.
Dec 7, 2013
Having my collar sawed off from my neck - a unique slave experience
And now, ironically, I'm not collared anymore.
Well, I'm "collared" in the sense of being just as owned as before, there's been no relationship drama. There has, however, been rather a lot of health drama, with me having allergic reactions and then most probably having reactions to the allergy medication, and well, I don't know, possibly also to the new mattress we got a couple of days ago.
The end result has been me having fatigue, dizzyness, nausea and also looking like a watermelon in the face, bright red and swollen. The most annoying part for me, apart from the fatigue that has really wrecked our schedule, has been incessant hot flashes, were I've been simultanously been dripping with sweat and feeling like a pressure cooker while my feet are icicles, no matter what I do with them. Thoroughly unpleasant, the whole thing, and more than a little scary.
Yesterday when I'd been laying in bed more or less since 10 AM, trying to get up every now and then only to go back to miserable featal position, Mistress had enough and started a de-allergenprocess. I got out and stood in the snow storm for a while, and we hauled the new mattress out to storage so it could get rid of it's new-matterss-stink on it's own for a while. But the first thing she did was getting out the key to the collar and starting to unlock it.
She was very clear that it wasn't any kind of punishment, but since I had been swelling around the neck and getting red in the face on and off for more than a week by then, she wanted to be sure I wasn't somehow reacting to the collar. I haven't had it off for more than a few minutes since she put it on this spring, so if it was doing something to me, we wouldn't really know until she took it off and kept it off me for a while.
Well, it was a good plan, but the tiny tiny little screw in the locking mechanism wouldn't budge. Okay, so she went and got the extra key. And then she oiled the lock, and tried again. But no. It was stuck, and when she worked on it it only got worse. In the end, she gave up.
And went and got the saw.
So yeah. Yesterday I spent an uncomfortable twenty minutes with Mistress holding a hacksaw to my neck, and with a very firm grip on the collar sawing it off of me. Slowly and with great effort, I might say too, because it was a thick one and didn't much want to be sawed in two. It was bizarre, a little scary, a bit painful and a lot sad at the same time. I don't have my collar anymore. It's in the trash, and my neck is all bare.
Ah well. I'm still hers. We'll get another collar. Right now, my main focus is getting back on my feet and to stop looking like an overly ripe watermelon. 'Cause that look is so 90's.
Well, I'm "collared" in the sense of being just as owned as before, there's been no relationship drama. There has, however, been rather a lot of health drama, with me having allergic reactions and then most probably having reactions to the allergy medication, and well, I don't know, possibly also to the new mattress we got a couple of days ago.
The end result has been me having fatigue, dizzyness, nausea and also looking like a watermelon in the face, bright red and swollen. The most annoying part for me, apart from the fatigue that has really wrecked our schedule, has been incessant hot flashes, were I've been simultanously been dripping with sweat and feeling like a pressure cooker while my feet are icicles, no matter what I do with them. Thoroughly unpleasant, the whole thing, and more than a little scary.
Yesterday when I'd been laying in bed more or less since 10 AM, trying to get up every now and then only to go back to miserable featal position, Mistress had enough and started a de-allergenprocess. I got out and stood in the snow storm for a while, and we hauled the new mattress out to storage so it could get rid of it's new-matterss-stink on it's own for a while. But the first thing she did was getting out the key to the collar and starting to unlock it.
She was very clear that it wasn't any kind of punishment, but since I had been swelling around the neck and getting red in the face on and off for more than a week by then, she wanted to be sure I wasn't somehow reacting to the collar. I haven't had it off for more than a few minutes since she put it on this spring, so if it was doing something to me, we wouldn't really know until she took it off and kept it off me for a while.
Well, it was a good plan, but the tiny tiny little screw in the locking mechanism wouldn't budge. Okay, so she went and got the extra key. And then she oiled the lock, and tried again. But no. It was stuck, and when she worked on it it only got worse. In the end, she gave up.
And went and got the saw.
So yeah. Yesterday I spent an uncomfortable twenty minutes with Mistress holding a hacksaw to my neck, and with a very firm grip on the collar sawing it off of me. Slowly and with great effort, I might say too, because it was a thick one and didn't much want to be sawed in two. It was bizarre, a little scary, a bit painful and a lot sad at the same time. I don't have my collar anymore. It's in the trash, and my neck is all bare.
Ah well. I'm still hers. We'll get another collar. Right now, my main focus is getting back on my feet and to stop looking like an overly ripe watermelon. 'Cause that look is so 90's.
Nov 25, 2013
Resolve
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.
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 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.
Oct 30, 2013
Darker days approaching
Autumn is in high swing, and more or less over night (more, since it has to do with the clocks being set back one hour for winter) my yearly winter depression started looming.
Last year and even more so the year before that, I had it bad, but that's no wonder since I was exhausted. Stress accounted for a lot of it, but the fact is that I've been down during the winter for most of my life, and so has my mother. It's probably hereditary in one way or another, either by learning history and conditioning or more biologically, a vulnerability to lack of sunlight. Either way, here it comes, depression train approaching station.
I made a poster yesterday, when I was contemplating what I could do to lessen this. What approach was needed, what can I do? And I came up with three words that encompasses the things I need to get through the coming four month with sanity, relationship and self respect intact:
Acceptance.
Patience.
Trust.
I need to accept that this is how it is right now, that even though I can do some things to make it better I can't make the problem go away, nor does wishing it so or being angry at it make anything better. It is as it is. My brain works this way, and I'm not to blame for that, no more than I should blame myself for my brown hair or being 5"5. The more I fight against reality, the deeper I sink in the quicksand. This is how it is.
And I need to let it take time. It's going to be like this for awhile. That too is as it is.
And I need to trust in the sun coming out eventually. It's all going to be okay in the end. Even though it might take awhile, and even though it might not be precisely as I wish it would be in the meantime.
Right now, I'm going to drink coffee with Mistress who's working from home. And I think I'll enjoy it, and there's a good chance I'll actually feel what the coffee tastes like. I'm not going onboard the depression train just yet.
Last year and even more so the year before that, I had it bad, but that's no wonder since I was exhausted. Stress accounted for a lot of it, but the fact is that I've been down during the winter for most of my life, and so has my mother. It's probably hereditary in one way or another, either by learning history and conditioning or more biologically, a vulnerability to lack of sunlight. Either way, here it comes, depression train approaching station.
I made a poster yesterday, when I was contemplating what I could do to lessen this. What approach was needed, what can I do? And I came up with three words that encompasses the things I need to get through the coming four month with sanity, relationship and self respect intact:
Acceptance.
Patience.
Trust.
I need to accept that this is how it is right now, that even though I can do some things to make it better I can't make the problem go away, nor does wishing it so or being angry at it make anything better. It is as it is. My brain works this way, and I'm not to blame for that, no more than I should blame myself for my brown hair or being 5"5. The more I fight against reality, the deeper I sink in the quicksand. This is how it is.
And I need to let it take time. It's going to be like this for awhile. That too is as it is.
And I need to trust in the sun coming out eventually. It's all going to be okay in the end. Even though it might take awhile, and even though it might not be precisely as I wish it would be in the meantime.
Right now, I'm going to drink coffee with Mistress who's working from home. And I think I'll enjoy it, and there's a good chance I'll actually feel what the coffee tastes like. I'm not going onboard the depression train just yet.
Oct 15, 2013
The tough and the weak
I miss her. Insanely. I cried today when I finally got to see her on the webcam. I can't remember if I've ever acutally cried from missing her before. And in a way it made it easier. It's not as hard and difficult when I don't have to be strong and brave and tough it out.
This time I don't have to. I don't have to be as strong, because the work isn't as hard. I don't have to go to school or be at home all day alone with the kid, and I'm not even half as tired as I used to be just a little while ago. For the first time in a long while it's not unusual for me to get through a normal day and not be crushed by fatigue and despair some time after dinner.
And I don't have to be as brave, because finally (finally!) both me and the people around me have a realistic view of what I can and can't do (okay, everyone except for my mom, but I'll leave her out of this...). No one is expecting me to not be a wreck when Mistress finally gets home. It's part of the equation. I don't have to feel guilty, and I don't have to hide it. It's okay, it can be what it is.
I'm not normal. I wish I was, or at least that the things that makes my life difficult could be toned down a little, but I'm not. What's new and exciting and uplifting is that I no longer have to act as if I'm normal, and I'm no longer expected to react as if I was. How I'm in fact wired, what really happens with me and my brain, is taken into account now. There's no longer this glaring mismatch between the map (how everybody else works) and reality (how I react in real life).
Which means I can skip the brave face and stay vulnerable. Stay present. Stay in touch with my emotions. And that is so much less work than dealing with the side-effects of the brave-face-approach. The brave face means walls and detachments, means self-sufficiency and loneliness, means independence and distance.
I hate the brave face. I love the privilege of weakness and dependence and softness and crying after Mistress because I miss her so so much, and I need her so so much. I love the freedom that comes with the luxury of openness and vulnerability and honesty and humility. I'm allowed to miss her. I'm allowed the weakness that comes with that feeling now, when I don't have to perform to the utmost of my ability at all times any longer.
I still have to tough it out, though, because today is Tuesday and she'll be home Friday afternoon. Two days down, three more to go.
This time I don't have to. I don't have to be as strong, because the work isn't as hard. I don't have to go to school or be at home all day alone with the kid, and I'm not even half as tired as I used to be just a little while ago. For the first time in a long while it's not unusual for me to get through a normal day and not be crushed by fatigue and despair some time after dinner.
And I don't have to be as brave, because finally (finally!) both me and the people around me have a realistic view of what I can and can't do (okay, everyone except for my mom, but I'll leave her out of this...). No one is expecting me to not be a wreck when Mistress finally gets home. It's part of the equation. I don't have to feel guilty, and I don't have to hide it. It's okay, it can be what it is.
I'm not normal. I wish I was, or at least that the things that makes my life difficult could be toned down a little, but I'm not. What's new and exciting and uplifting is that I no longer have to act as if I'm normal, and I'm no longer expected to react as if I was. How I'm in fact wired, what really happens with me and my brain, is taken into account now. There's no longer this glaring mismatch between the map (how everybody else works) and reality (how I react in real life).
Which means I can skip the brave face and stay vulnerable. Stay present. Stay in touch with my emotions. And that is so much less work than dealing with the side-effects of the brave-face-approach. The brave face means walls and detachments, means self-sufficiency and loneliness, means independence and distance.
I hate the brave face. I love the privilege of weakness and dependence and softness and crying after Mistress because I miss her so so much, and I need her so so much. I love the freedom that comes with the luxury of openness and vulnerability and honesty and humility. I'm allowed to miss her. I'm allowed the weakness that comes with that feeling now, when I don't have to perform to the utmost of my ability at all times any longer.
I still have to tough it out, though, because today is Tuesday and she'll be home Friday afternoon. Two days down, three more to go.
Oct 10, 2013
Broken down
I took the car today, to have lunch with a friend. I really didn't need to, I could have taken my bike, but it was raining and I was feeling tired and grumpy. Or the bus, but truth be told, I fell asleep and when I woke up I would just make it in time with the car.
I had a lovely lunch with an old friend I haven't seen in ages, and when it was time for her to return to work I offered to drive her. When we got there, I turned the engine off while we finished our conversation, we hugged and said good bye and I turned the ignition key, and got nothing.
The car wouldn't start. And that turned a so far good but a little low day in to a rather horrid one.
In the end, I got home again around six-thirty, and the worst part of the whole day was the look in Mistress' eyes. She looked so sad, and defeated, and tired and angry and well, just generally frazzled. Most of it has nothing to do with me, or with the car, but knowing that decisions I've made today, like taking the car at all for instance, made her day worse makes me hate myself a little.
I don't know if she's angry with me for any of it. I texted her as soon as it happened, and she was informed of every decision I made and I did as she told me to when she had any input, but in the end I still feel guilty. Like I should have done better. I know she hates it when unexpected things happen, and especially when she's not in control of them. I think she would much have preferred being the one waiting by the broken down car over having to leave work early and pick up the kid and fix dinner and play nice and be in a good mood with a cranky four-year-old.
And now her mother called. Today we know whether her dad has skeletal cancer or not. Today is not an easy day.
---------
Mistress is still on the phone with her mom, but she just gave me a thumbs up. The relief is immense.
I had a lovely lunch with an old friend I haven't seen in ages, and when it was time for her to return to work I offered to drive her. When we got there, I turned the engine off while we finished our conversation, we hugged and said good bye and I turned the ignition key, and got nothing.
The car wouldn't start. And that turned a so far good but a little low day in to a rather horrid one.
In the end, I got home again around six-thirty, and the worst part of the whole day was the look in Mistress' eyes. She looked so sad, and defeated, and tired and angry and well, just generally frazzled. Most of it has nothing to do with me, or with the car, but knowing that decisions I've made today, like taking the car at all for instance, made her day worse makes me hate myself a little.
I don't know if she's angry with me for any of it. I texted her as soon as it happened, and she was informed of every decision I made and I did as she told me to when she had any input, but in the end I still feel guilty. Like I should have done better. I know she hates it when unexpected things happen, and especially when she's not in control of them. I think she would much have preferred being the one waiting by the broken down car over having to leave work early and pick up the kid and fix dinner and play nice and be in a good mood with a cranky four-year-old.
And now her mother called. Today we know whether her dad has skeletal cancer or not. Today is not an easy day.
---------
Mistress is still on the phone with her mom, but she just gave me a thumbs up. The relief is immense.
Oct 5, 2013
A day in the life of a stay-at-home slave
I'm having trouble accepting just how good things are right now. That's a first world problem if I ever heard of one... But really, it scares me a bit, because how it is right now is something I could live with forever. And that's a bit troublesome, because right now I don't do much.
I'm a stay-at-home slave for the moment. I mean, I'm not even a stay-at-home mom, because that would require my kid to be, you know, at home. But she's not, she's almost full time at pre-school. I usually get home around nine thirty after dropping her off in the morning, and then I go pick her up after four in the afternoon. And really I'm not a housewife either, because doesn't a housewife do like all the housework?
I once read a study where a lot of couples in Sweden had filled in surveys about the amount of housework they did, each person in the household answering separately. And of course, in heterosexual relationships with kids the woman did an insane amount more of the housework, many more hours per week more than the man, unrelated to their professional workload. Except for if the woman worked full time and the man was unemployed, those couples were statistically most equal, since then the men did roughly half...
So yeah. In that scenario, I'm the guy. Mistress works full time, and she still does all the laundry, most of the grocery shopping, all the planning, always cleans up after dinner and do most of the vacuuming. I vacuum occasionally, clean the bathroom, cook dinner, sometimes empty the dishwasher, shop some groceries and do strange errands like picking up parcels at the post office or getting shoes mended and other odd things, and usually leaves off and picks up the kid, but at best one can say I do half. Which is an enormous improvement compared to last year, when I did literary nothing, since I devoted all my energy to getting through school.
But the thing is, I love this. Finally, for the fist time in my life or at least since I was five, the demands placed on me are equal to or lower than my resources. I'm not exhausted. I'm enough. What I'm capable of doing without getting sick is for the first time enough for the tasks that I need to fulfil. I've always felt like Bilbo in the Lord of the Rings when he explains the effect the Ring has on him as thinning him out, like to little butter on a to big piece of toast. I've always felt stretched, always felt that what I am and what I do and what I manage isn't enough. Naturally, since it hasn't been enough, since I have lived my whole life with an undiagnosed neurological handicap.
I love being Mistress' stay-at-home slave. I love it so much. For the first time, we have a routine that actually works. And it shows on Mistress too. She's been able to go to the gym. She had lunch with a friend the other day (they realised that they hadn't seen each other alone for two years, and they live 20 minutes apart...). Even though I regularly have depressive thoughts about not doing enough for us as a family, Mistress seems to appreciate the things I actually manage to do a lot. And that means the world to me.
I like my days. I get home in the morning, I drink coffee and rest for a while, and then I usually do something - go to the gym, or to a pony I've started to take for walks in the woods. She's young and she's much to small for me to ride, but the owner appreciates that she gets attention and exercise, and I appreciate the equestrian company. Then I have lunch, either at home or a lunch date with one of my friends, and around two I go rest. I always rest in the afternoon, and it's a really good thing for me. I usually start with a mindfulness-exercise laying on the bed, and after that I just roll over and sleep for an hour.
And then it's time to get myself ready, take a shower if I haven't done that, prepare dinner and straighten things up a little bit, and then go get little S. Mistress comes home around five, she plays with the kid and I finish dinner or the other way around, we eat at five-thirty, Mistress cleans the kitchen while little S and I watch telly and then usually they play until bedtime and I go rest again (I rest a lot). But the other day I actually went to the store and got milk and bread and stuff, that was a bit of a milestone too.
And then we have our going-to-bed routine that takes from six-thirty to seven-thirty, and after that it's time for me and Mistress to hang out, talk about our day and cuddle on the sofa.
I love this routine. I have no idea how I'm ever going to be able to stuff another full time job in to this family again. Last year we both worked more than full time. No wonder we're exhausted. That was crazy. Now, when I'm left to my own devices most of the day, I can rest, exercise and meet friends as much as I need to during the day, and have just enough energy over for my family the rest of the time. I get why I got sick, and I definitely get why I haven't been to the gym, eaten healthy or had much of a social life the last couple of year. I had, obviously, school instead.
I like this. I'm going to take a nap now.
Oh, and this was my 200th post. Yey!
I'm a stay-at-home slave for the moment. I mean, I'm not even a stay-at-home mom, because that would require my kid to be, you know, at home. But she's not, she's almost full time at pre-school. I usually get home around nine thirty after dropping her off in the morning, and then I go pick her up after four in the afternoon. And really I'm not a housewife either, because doesn't a housewife do like all the housework?
I once read a study where a lot of couples in Sweden had filled in surveys about the amount of housework they did, each person in the household answering separately. And of course, in heterosexual relationships with kids the woman did an insane amount more of the housework, many more hours per week more than the man, unrelated to their professional workload. Except for if the woman worked full time and the man was unemployed, those couples were statistically most equal, since then the men did roughly half...
So yeah. In that scenario, I'm the guy. Mistress works full time, and she still does all the laundry, most of the grocery shopping, all the planning, always cleans up after dinner and do most of the vacuuming. I vacuum occasionally, clean the bathroom, cook dinner, sometimes empty the dishwasher, shop some groceries and do strange errands like picking up parcels at the post office or getting shoes mended and other odd things, and usually leaves off and picks up the kid, but at best one can say I do half. Which is an enormous improvement compared to last year, when I did literary nothing, since I devoted all my energy to getting through school.
But the thing is, I love this. Finally, for the fist time in my life or at least since I was five, the demands placed on me are equal to or lower than my resources. I'm not exhausted. I'm enough. What I'm capable of doing without getting sick is for the first time enough for the tasks that I need to fulfil. I've always felt like Bilbo in the Lord of the Rings when he explains the effect the Ring has on him as thinning him out, like to little butter on a to big piece of toast. I've always felt stretched, always felt that what I am and what I do and what I manage isn't enough. Naturally, since it hasn't been enough, since I have lived my whole life with an undiagnosed neurological handicap.
I love being Mistress' stay-at-home slave. I love it so much. For the first time, we have a routine that actually works. And it shows on Mistress too. She's been able to go to the gym. She had lunch with a friend the other day (they realised that they hadn't seen each other alone for two years, and they live 20 minutes apart...). Even though I regularly have depressive thoughts about not doing enough for us as a family, Mistress seems to appreciate the things I actually manage to do a lot. And that means the world to me.
I like my days. I get home in the morning, I drink coffee and rest for a while, and then I usually do something - go to the gym, or to a pony I've started to take for walks in the woods. She's young and she's much to small for me to ride, but the owner appreciates that she gets attention and exercise, and I appreciate the equestrian company. Then I have lunch, either at home or a lunch date with one of my friends, and around two I go rest. I always rest in the afternoon, and it's a really good thing for me. I usually start with a mindfulness-exercise laying on the bed, and after that I just roll over and sleep for an hour.
And then it's time to get myself ready, take a shower if I haven't done that, prepare dinner and straighten things up a little bit, and then go get little S. Mistress comes home around five, she plays with the kid and I finish dinner or the other way around, we eat at five-thirty, Mistress cleans the kitchen while little S and I watch telly and then usually they play until bedtime and I go rest again (I rest a lot). But the other day I actually went to the store and got milk and bread and stuff, that was a bit of a milestone too.
And then we have our going-to-bed routine that takes from six-thirty to seven-thirty, and after that it's time for me and Mistress to hang out, talk about our day and cuddle on the sofa.
I love this routine. I have no idea how I'm ever going to be able to stuff another full time job in to this family again. Last year we both worked more than full time. No wonder we're exhausted. That was crazy. Now, when I'm left to my own devices most of the day, I can rest, exercise and meet friends as much as I need to during the day, and have just enough energy over for my family the rest of the time. I get why I got sick, and I definitely get why I haven't been to the gym, eaten healthy or had much of a social life the last couple of year. I had, obviously, school instead.
I like this. I'm going to take a nap now.
Oh, and this was my 200th post. Yey!
Sep 13, 2013
General weirdness
We actually do have sex and stuff. Kinky sex to. And we're good, relationship-wise. Everythings good(ish). "As well as can be expected under the circumstances" have been my standard reply for the last five years, and it's still true. The circumstances at this particular time being my fucked up brain and it's inability to get better at the rate I want it to.
I've applied for a job I really want, and they haven't gotten back to me, and I lay awake some nights before going to sleep and worry about never getting an employment. But that's nothing new.
All is well, the kid thrive and Mistress isn't hating her job at the moment. She's even getting home earlier today and picks up little S on her way home, yey!
I've been feeling weird all week, and finally realised it's because I upped my dosage of methylfenidat (ADHD-meds) and that caused some weird sensations. Like all the hair standing up all over my body. Some sort of itchy feeling under the skin, all over. And an inability to relax but at the same time extreme exhaustion. Also, I've been doing some funny thing with my teeth, pressing the lower jaw forward so that the lower front teeth are constantly pushing at the upper front teeth. As if I've been going around all week trying to create an under bite by shear force. It wasn't unpleasant, necessarily, not all the time, but it was extremely unsettling and annoying. I lowered the dose yesterday, and now I'm back to being normally exhausted and dim-witted.
Why can't I get to functional normally without feeling high or hyper? Meh. I was enjoying waking up in the morning with a fully awake and functioning brain. Now it's soon 10 AM, and I still feel like a zombie. A sleepy, dazed zombie. Bleergh. I want it all. I want to wake up and being awake, I want to have the energy to go to the gym, make lunch, fill the dishwasher and still be able to form coherent sentences over dinner. But I don't want to go around gnashing my teeth and feeling high all the time.
And I must admit all these weird feelings and health issues makes the O/p-part of things fall into the background a bit. Mistress is my rock, my best friend, my sanity in all this. She owns me, sure, but I know that. It's not something I spend a lot of time thinking about right now. It's just there, thankfully, making me feel connected and present and as a real person even when I have a lot of reasons to feel like I'm a figment of imagination, drifting alone in the darkness of space. I'm real and I'm here, 'cause I'm hers.
And tonight we're having tacos in front of the telly with the kid spilling salsa over the sofa and me and Mistress cuddling a little behind her back. Just because stuff feels weird inside my brain it doesn't mean that's what the world actually looks like.
I've applied for a job I really want, and they haven't gotten back to me, and I lay awake some nights before going to sleep and worry about never getting an employment. But that's nothing new.
All is well, the kid thrive and Mistress isn't hating her job at the moment. She's even getting home earlier today and picks up little S on her way home, yey!
I've been feeling weird all week, and finally realised it's because I upped my dosage of methylfenidat (ADHD-meds) and that caused some weird sensations. Like all the hair standing up all over my body. Some sort of itchy feeling under the skin, all over. And an inability to relax but at the same time extreme exhaustion. Also, I've been doing some funny thing with my teeth, pressing the lower jaw forward so that the lower front teeth are constantly pushing at the upper front teeth. As if I've been going around all week trying to create an under bite by shear force. It wasn't unpleasant, necessarily, not all the time, but it was extremely unsettling and annoying. I lowered the dose yesterday, and now I'm back to being normally exhausted and dim-witted.
Why can't I get to functional normally without feeling high or hyper? Meh. I was enjoying waking up in the morning with a fully awake and functioning brain. Now it's soon 10 AM, and I still feel like a zombie. A sleepy, dazed zombie. Bleergh. I want it all. I want to wake up and being awake, I want to have the energy to go to the gym, make lunch, fill the dishwasher and still be able to form coherent sentences over dinner. But I don't want to go around gnashing my teeth and feeling high all the time.
And I must admit all these weird feelings and health issues makes the O/p-part of things fall into the background a bit. Mistress is my rock, my best friend, my sanity in all this. She owns me, sure, but I know that. It's not something I spend a lot of time thinking about right now. It's just there, thankfully, making me feel connected and present and as a real person even when I have a lot of reasons to feel like I'm a figment of imagination, drifting alone in the darkness of space. I'm real and I'm here, 'cause I'm hers.
And tonight we're having tacos in front of the telly with the kid spilling salsa over the sofa and me and Mistress cuddling a little behind her back. Just because stuff feels weird inside my brain it doesn't mean that's what the world actually looks like.
Aug 8, 2013
Big small things
Sometimes there is so much to say that nothing comes out. We're great, though. We had an amazing Pride Stockholm and our four week vacation ended yesterday. Mistress is back at work, the kid is back in pre-school, and I'm... I'm not in school, because I'm all done and graduated. This is a bit of a time for orientation and reflection. I'm not really sure where I'm going to go from here, or what's going to happen on a practical level in our lives, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be great.
Today I did the weekly grocery shopping. For the first time in a year, at least. I was actually a bit nervous, but I could do it, without falling to pieces afterwards. I even put away the groceries when I got home. Amazing what I can accomplish when I'm not sick and not studying full time.
It's a bit disorienting, this new daily life I have all of a sudden. I'm not exhausted all the time any more. It leaves me a little bewildered.
Today I did the weekly grocery shopping. For the first time in a year, at least. I was actually a bit nervous, but I could do it, without falling to pieces afterwards. I even put away the groceries when I got home. Amazing what I can accomplish when I'm not sick and not studying full time.
It's a bit disorienting, this new daily life I have all of a sudden. I'm not exhausted all the time any more. It leaves me a little bewildered.
Jul 10, 2013
Brazilian, beer and ponies - or something like that.
Yesterday I had a busy day in a couple of different ways, and voila! today I woke up with despair and a slight fever. Yeah. That's the brain I know and love.
I haven't been resting as much as maybe I should have today though, it's a bit of a bind this being restless and hyper and at the same time getting exhausted really quickly. At times Mistress has physically bound me just to allow me some rest from the constant effort of reining myself in. Today she was away all morning and working all afternoon, so I had to do the reining myself, and I have to admit it went so-so.
In the afternoon Mistress unusually went to pick up little S from pre-school and then grocery-shopping (she's a superhero - the idea of doing weekly shopping at the supermarket with a three year old makes my head hurt just thinking about it, but she does that regularly). I did rest, in a way - but I had to mind the laundry and prep some things for dinner, and though the tasks themselves were small and simple they prevented me from relaxing properly. Another fun brain-thingy - if there's a to-do-list around, it revolves constantly around in my head and keeps me on my toes in an active, hyper state. Since I only have like two gears, top one and neutral, having something to do every thirty minutes effectively makes me go all hyper.
Anyway, I spent the time waxing. Like, the Brazilian kind. I've never done that to this extent before, and I did it purely because it was fun and I liked the result. Mistress has approved of my hair-removing activities before, it's been a gradual thing the last couple of years, but her main concern has been me removing to much. She doesn't mind hair, but she really doesn't like the hairless, childlike look, and that has held me back a little.
I'm still not hairless, since Mistress doesn't like that. But I'm more or less hairless on all the places where I don't want to have hair, and it feels great. I think it's pretty.
Mistress said she had to work tonight, and asked me what I wanted to do. "Well", I said, "I want to show you my well-coiffed crotch and then get a sound thrashing." Alas, that's not what's going on. She doesn't much care whether or not there's hairs on my inner thighs, and there's no whips in sight. She's at her computer, and I'm in the bed beside her, drinking non-alcoholic beer and goofing around. I think my evening will be spent watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic on youtube.
Oh the joys of being a kinky O/p-couple. My inner twenty-year old are glaring at me and pointing fingers. The worst part of it is that I'm quite happy and content right now. Where will it end?
---
Uhm... Might have to revise the above. When she'd finish working, she did want to see the result. In fact, she wanted to inspect all of me. And whip me for the hairs that were left. And whip me a lot more. And fuck me. And yeah... I have to quit with the whining now. I'm all good. All whipped and fucked and taken care of. This, I must say, is even better.
I haven't been resting as much as maybe I should have today though, it's a bit of a bind this being restless and hyper and at the same time getting exhausted really quickly. At times Mistress has physically bound me just to allow me some rest from the constant effort of reining myself in. Today she was away all morning and working all afternoon, so I had to do the reining myself, and I have to admit it went so-so.
In the afternoon Mistress unusually went to pick up little S from pre-school and then grocery-shopping (she's a superhero - the idea of doing weekly shopping at the supermarket with a three year old makes my head hurt just thinking about it, but she does that regularly). I did rest, in a way - but I had to mind the laundry and prep some things for dinner, and though the tasks themselves were small and simple they prevented me from relaxing properly. Another fun brain-thingy - if there's a to-do-list around, it revolves constantly around in my head and keeps me on my toes in an active, hyper state. Since I only have like two gears, top one and neutral, having something to do every thirty minutes effectively makes me go all hyper.
Anyway, I spent the time waxing. Like, the Brazilian kind. I've never done that to this extent before, and I did it purely because it was fun and I liked the result. Mistress has approved of my hair-removing activities before, it's been a gradual thing the last couple of years, but her main concern has been me removing to much. She doesn't mind hair, but she really doesn't like the hairless, childlike look, and that has held me back a little.
I'm still not hairless, since Mistress doesn't like that. But I'm more or less hairless on all the places where I don't want to have hair, and it feels great. I think it's pretty.
Mistress said she had to work tonight, and asked me what I wanted to do. "Well", I said, "I want to show you my well-coiffed crotch and then get a sound thrashing." Alas, that's not what's going on. She doesn't much care whether or not there's hairs on my inner thighs, and there's no whips in sight. She's at her computer, and I'm in the bed beside her, drinking non-alcoholic beer and goofing around. I think my evening will be spent watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic on youtube.
Oh the joys of being a kinky O/p-couple. My inner twenty-year old are glaring at me and pointing fingers. The worst part of it is that I'm quite happy and content right now. Where will it end?
---
Uhm... Might have to revise the above. When she'd finish working, she did want to see the result. In fact, she wanted to inspect all of me. And whip me for the hairs that were left. And whip me a lot more. And fuck me. And yeah... I have to quit with the whining now. I'm all good. All whipped and fucked and taken care of. This, I must say, is even better.
Jul 9, 2013
Unfortunate side-effects
We were at my inlaws cabin by the sea again for four days this weekend. "Oh, we thought in advance, we'll finally resurrect our extinct sex-life!" Until I woke up on Thursday morning sniffling like an allergic bloodhound, and sneezing over anyone I came in to contact with.
Mistress claims she doesn't find virus infections sexy. Imagine that.
For once I didn't either, actually. My body seems to be a bit strange that way at other times - whenever I get a cold or a hangover, I get desperately horny. Unfortunately my prospective partner in any horny-related activities doesn't share my feelings, and have a more sensible idea that I should drink lots of water and rest. I want her to boink my skull off, she wants me to shut up and rest 'til I'm healtny again. Spoil sport.
Any way, we had a good long week end but without much excitement. Except for Sunday night when I finally managed to convince Mistress that we should sneak away in the car to the nearest gas station and get us some chips and beer. After two days at the same place, I was having cabin fever (literary, very funny), and was dying for some diversion (since I wasn't going to get to go to the movies nor get whipped and fucked, I at least wanted a beer to our Harry Potter-movie on the laptop...).
Do you know what happens when someone, say for example me, take anti-depressants, metylphenidate (that's ADHD-medication, like ritalin for example) and combines it with even a very small amount of alcohol? Bad things. Very bad things.
I mean, it does say so on the package. It says "don't combine with alcohol". But... somethings I just have to try by myself. What happened was that I was starting to feel queasy, went to bed and woke up a couple of hours later and had to run outside to... yeah. Hurl. Gross gross gross.
Also, no running water at our small (tiny, really, just a cupboard) cabin down by the pier, and no water closet or shower at the whole place.
And the whole of next day I had a hangover, with head ache and nausea, without even getting the benefit of a) having been drunk or b) drunk anything good or noteworthy. So, yeah. I guess I'm going to be a rather involuntary teetotaler in the future. And I don't want to!
The anti-depressants are a temporary thing, I hope, though my mother eats something similar permanently and has done that for the last ten years or so, so I might be in for the same fate (rather medication than recurring depressions, any day). The metylphenidate however helps with my ADHD-symptoms, and I have no reason to believe they will ever lessen or that I at some point wont benefit from the medication.
The next experiment will be to see what happens with me if I skip the ADHD-meds for two days, and drink on the night in between. I like the meds, they make me get through my days much easier and with much less effort, but it would be nice to know that I have a choice, that I could have alcohol at special occasions. Both me and Mistress are a bit of whisky-aficionados, and I would grieve if our beautiful bottles of Caol Ila and Laphroaig and Glenfiddich would be out of my reach for the rest of my life. And I got a bottle of real champagne at my graduation party, and I would like to be able to drink it one day, perhaps at our six-year anniversary in August. It's not about the amount in any way, but to not be able to have even one glass without puking feels a little sad.
Ah well. If my problems aren't bigger than this, I guess life is pretty okay right now.
Mistress claims she doesn't find virus infections sexy. Imagine that.
For once I didn't either, actually. My body seems to be a bit strange that way at other times - whenever I get a cold or a hangover, I get desperately horny. Unfortunately my prospective partner in any horny-related activities doesn't share my feelings, and have a more sensible idea that I should drink lots of water and rest. I want her to boink my skull off, she wants me to shut up and rest 'til I'm healtny again. Spoil sport.
Any way, we had a good long week end but without much excitement. Except for Sunday night when I finally managed to convince Mistress that we should sneak away in the car to the nearest gas station and get us some chips and beer. After two days at the same place, I was having cabin fever (literary, very funny), and was dying for some diversion (since I wasn't going to get to go to the movies nor get whipped and fucked, I at least wanted a beer to our Harry Potter-movie on the laptop...).
Do you know what happens when someone, say for example me, take anti-depressants, metylphenidate (that's ADHD-medication, like ritalin for example) and combines it with even a very small amount of alcohol? Bad things. Very bad things.
I mean, it does say so on the package. It says "don't combine with alcohol". But... somethings I just have to try by myself. What happened was that I was starting to feel queasy, went to bed and woke up a couple of hours later and had to run outside to... yeah. Hurl. Gross gross gross.
Also, no running water at our small (tiny, really, just a cupboard) cabin down by the pier, and no water closet or shower at the whole place.
And the whole of next day I had a hangover, with head ache and nausea, without even getting the benefit of a) having been drunk or b) drunk anything good or noteworthy. So, yeah. I guess I'm going to be a rather involuntary teetotaler in the future. And I don't want to!
The anti-depressants are a temporary thing, I hope, though my mother eats something similar permanently and has done that for the last ten years or so, so I might be in for the same fate (rather medication than recurring depressions, any day). The metylphenidate however helps with my ADHD-symptoms, and I have no reason to believe they will ever lessen or that I at some point wont benefit from the medication.
The next experiment will be to see what happens with me if I skip the ADHD-meds for two days, and drink on the night in between. I like the meds, they make me get through my days much easier and with much less effort, but it would be nice to know that I have a choice, that I could have alcohol at special occasions. Both me and Mistress are a bit of whisky-aficionados, and I would grieve if our beautiful bottles of Caol Ila and Laphroaig and Glenfiddich would be out of my reach for the rest of my life. And I got a bottle of real champagne at my graduation party, and I would like to be able to drink it one day, perhaps at our six-year anniversary in August. It's not about the amount in any way, but to not be able to have even one glass without puking feels a little sad.
Ah well. If my problems aren't bigger than this, I guess life is pretty okay right now.
Jun 19, 2013
All deep thought postponed until further notice
I was going to write something insightful and astounding today. Possibly something about the pony play-experience, or my angst over not being in school or employed or even home with the kid and what does that make me? (Oh My God! I'm useless! What am I good for? I'm a lazy good-for-nothing! and so on and so forth.) Or maybe about... something else important.
However, I got a migraine yesterday afternoon, and now my brain is mush. I still have a headache and I'm nauseas and I don't want to do anything but sit perfectly still. Or possibly sleep, except I'm not sleepy. So no profound thoughts today.
We're leaving for my in-laws cabin by the sea tomorrow, celebrating Midsummer and having a mini-vacation. I'm supposed to be packing. All I've done so far is putting little S's life jacket on the comfy chair, together with her bathing suit and four squirt guns. I'm not sure that really constitutes packing. At all, actually. Oh well.
However, I got a migraine yesterday afternoon, and now my brain is mush. I still have a headache and I'm nauseas and I don't want to do anything but sit perfectly still. Or possibly sleep, except I'm not sleepy. So no profound thoughts today.
We're leaving for my in-laws cabin by the sea tomorrow, celebrating Midsummer and having a mini-vacation. I'm supposed to be packing. All I've done so far is putting little S's life jacket on the comfy chair, together with her bathing suit and four squirt guns. I'm not sure that really constitutes packing. At all, actually. Oh well.
May 3, 2013
Getting what I need
I have a sleeping dog beside me. That always make sitting on the couch with the laptop even nicer than usual. I'm hungry and need coffee, however, so in a short while I'm going to disturb the peace.
I should be heading out by now, to see my thesis-colleague. But some things are much easier now than say a year ago. I got migraine or something similar yesterday, and gritted my teeth through the afternoon. When I finally got home, feeling sick and shaking with cold and with a headache that felt like something was trying to get out of my skull by sheer force, I could finally take some pills and go lay down. The pills helped quite nicely, but I felt weird all evening.
And when we were, eventually, curled up on the sofa together after little S had fallen asleep, I asked Mistress if I could meet a friend in the afternoon, after seeing with my colleague. And she looked at me with utter astonishment and said that I hadn't mention having made any dates, and that she had taken for granted that I would be at home resting after the migraine.
And do you know what I did? I said "yes, Mistress, you're right. I didn't think about that. I probably shouldn't go anywhere or do anything hard tomorrow. I'll text M. and tell her our meeting is cancelled." And then I did.
No angst. No anger. No drama. No "but I really really have to! We'll never make it otherwise! I'm sure I'm fine tomorrow and then I'll feel bad for ditching school when I feel okay!". None of that.
But now Mistress texted me with the word: "Coffee!" which means I should stop this and go take a cup and a sandwich.
-----------
Well, that was about the whole story. I'm lounging about at home after having dropped litte S off later than usual at the pre-school. I have a small task to do for school, and nothing else. And I even get to go see my friend I. and have a latte with her down town, since luckily Mistress agreed with me that taking a bike ride in the sun down to the river and chatting with a friend probably does more good than harm when it comes to stress and stress symptoms.
There's no point in itself in sitting at home - the important thing for me is to no be exposed to situations that demands more concentration or executive functioning of me than I have the capacity to give.No noise, no crowd, no waiting, no decisions. Everything has to be calm and ordered and not demand anything in particular of me.
It feels so damn good to be allowed, and to allow myself, to listen to my body and my brain and take care of myself and not overdo it. To not force ahead at full speed no matter what and assume that it's perfectly normal to feel like shit all the time. It's not normal, it's not expected of me, and I don't have to do it. I can just sit her, on my couch, with my dog, and let my attention wander as it wants. It's exactly what I need right now.
Oh, and coffee of course!
I should be heading out by now, to see my thesis-colleague. But some things are much easier now than say a year ago. I got migraine or something similar yesterday, and gritted my teeth through the afternoon. When I finally got home, feeling sick and shaking with cold and with a headache that felt like something was trying to get out of my skull by sheer force, I could finally take some pills and go lay down. The pills helped quite nicely, but I felt weird all evening.
And when we were, eventually, curled up on the sofa together after little S had fallen asleep, I asked Mistress if I could meet a friend in the afternoon, after seeing with my colleague. And she looked at me with utter astonishment and said that I hadn't mention having made any dates, and that she had taken for granted that I would be at home resting after the migraine.
And do you know what I did? I said "yes, Mistress, you're right. I didn't think about that. I probably shouldn't go anywhere or do anything hard tomorrow. I'll text M. and tell her our meeting is cancelled." And then I did.
No angst. No anger. No drama. No "but I really really have to! We'll never make it otherwise! I'm sure I'm fine tomorrow and then I'll feel bad for ditching school when I feel okay!". None of that.
But now Mistress texted me with the word: "Coffee!" which means I should stop this and go take a cup and a sandwich.
-----------
Well, that was about the whole story. I'm lounging about at home after having dropped litte S off later than usual at the pre-school. I have a small task to do for school, and nothing else. And I even get to go see my friend I. and have a latte with her down town, since luckily Mistress agreed with me that taking a bike ride in the sun down to the river and chatting with a friend probably does more good than harm when it comes to stress and stress symptoms.
There's no point in itself in sitting at home - the important thing for me is to no be exposed to situations that demands more concentration or executive functioning of me than I have the capacity to give.No noise, no crowd, no waiting, no decisions. Everything has to be calm and ordered and not demand anything in particular of me.
It feels so damn good to be allowed, and to allow myself, to listen to my body and my brain and take care of myself and not overdo it. To not force ahead at full speed no matter what and assume that it's perfectly normal to feel like shit all the time. It's not normal, it's not expected of me, and I don't have to do it. I can just sit her, on my couch, with my dog, and let my attention wander as it wants. It's exactly what I need right now.
Oh, and coffee of course!
May 1, 2013
Back and forth
A few days ago Mistress finally took advantage of me, after a weeks hiatus. It started out with a notion from her that she wanted to cut me again, but when she unpacked the playthings I had put in the bag her plans developed a little. We were at her parents place, and I had packed an assortment of things, this and that which fit in the bag.
In the end, she tied me securely to the bed, blindfolded and gagged me, inserted a butt plug, and used both the tawse and the whip on me before creating a small piece of art on my shoulder blade with her knife. Or maybe she whipped me afterwards, I don't recall it exactly. I was mostly floating away.
Or rather, in the end I was floating. In the beginning I was scared, and stiff and a little apprehensive. We've had busy weeks for a while, not very much time for each other, and in order to not nag at her, I've stifled my own needs. And withdrawn. With withdrawal comes walls, and tearing them down, opening up again, hurts. It's scary and it hurts.
She commented on that afterwards too, that she felt something big was needed this time. It was. It was very much needed.
It's not until today, more or less, that I've fully realised how withdrawn I have become. I don't like it.
In the end, she tied me securely to the bed, blindfolded and gagged me, inserted a butt plug, and used both the tawse and the whip on me before creating a small piece of art on my shoulder blade with her knife. Or maybe she whipped me afterwards, I don't recall it exactly. I was mostly floating away.
Or rather, in the end I was floating. In the beginning I was scared, and stiff and a little apprehensive. We've had busy weeks for a while, not very much time for each other, and in order to not nag at her, I've stifled my own needs. And withdrawn. With withdrawal comes walls, and tearing them down, opening up again, hurts. It's scary and it hurts.
She commented on that afterwards too, that she felt something big was needed this time. It was. It was very much needed.
It's not until today, more or less, that I've fully realised how withdrawn I have become. I don't like it.
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