Sometimes, I'm just stupid

And no, nothing can ever be good for longer than say five minutes. Bleergh.

I've screwed up, and it ended with us spending our night out yesterday, when we were supposed to celebrate our joint achievement and the merry times ahead, crying our eyes out as discreetly as possible over pints in a pub. Yey.

I like beer. It does not benefit from tears.

And now I just want to crawl away into some hole somewhere and bury myself in guilt and shame, but that would be stupid. I hurt Mistress, turns out I've hurt her several times over the last couple of years regarding the same issue, and I had no idea. We were so far from each other in our interpretations of the situation that it's not even funny.

We've got a dog. A five year old miniature pincher named Vilde, which is Swedish for Wild Thing. He's very aptly named, and when the kid was around a year old, we admitted defeat and left him at my in-laws place. He's been there ever since, even though we've made numerous attempts at bringing him home again. We go visit about every fortnight or so for a number of reasons, so it's not as if we've dumped him and forgotten about him, but still. He's not living at home.

And since I have no common sense and no impulse control (and have the papers to prove it, I might ad(h)d) I choose yesterday to bring this sore subject up again, declaring that I didn't think we would ever be able to take him home and that maybe it would be better to give up and start thinking about getting another dog. A nice one, one who doesn't bark incessantly and nips small kids in the face.

Which led to Mistress silently crying, staring out at the window and me feeling totally confused without any idea of what part of what I said was so horrible. I was even feeling kind of righteous - I was only trying to solve a problem that was obviously my responsibility, and I wanted to tell her that I gave up, that I admitted defeat and had failed. Why that would make her break down in tears was beyond me.

Did I mention the different interpretation thing? And how it so not funny? Not even a little bit, actually.

From Mistress point of view, I'm owned and collared. I've pledged allegiance to her countless times, and she's declared her intention to lead me and own me and take responsibility for our life together just as often. That should, one would think, mean that I would trust her to do that, and expect her to do that. That major problems in our life, for example who is and who isn't a part of our family, is up to her to figure out. 

I on the other hand, has the default setting of "Much Fix All the Things!". The dog was her gift to me, I was the one convincing her that we should get him, I was the one calling breeders and arranging visits, I was the one who was at home with him for three months, who made him house broken and taught him to be home alone without barking or biting on stuff. I was the one who went to obedience classes with him. It was my responsibility. I was also the one who first said "this isn't working, we can't keep him, his not happy with us" - because it was my responsibility to make him happy with us, and I was the one failing at it.

All this time, all these years, I've taken my responsibility for the dog, and his place in our family, completely for granted. At the same time, Mistress has taken her responsibility for the situation equally for granted, and my attempts at "solving" or making decisions regarding it as usurping her. Every time I've said "nah, let's not do this, let's do this instead" or "maybe next month we could try again" or whatever, in her mind I've been telling her I don't trust her. That I don't trust her judgement, that I don't believe in her ability to make good decisions and make this right, and that her time is up - I'm done waiting for her and I'm taking it in my own hands.

That's what she's been thinking. And I had no idea. It didn't even occur to me that it would be possible that she didn't think that this was my mess and my job to solve it.

The fact that this is the same damn hole I keep falling in to, the Pit of Responsibility for Things that isn't Mine, doesn't make it feel even a little bit better.

She was right. I've screwed up. I've hurt her, I've hurt us, and it doesn't matter how sorry I am. What's done is done. I can't go back in time and make it right. I'm just sad, and have a hard time dealing with it.

Lazy week end

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

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

Insufferable-ness

When we stopped cuddling on the mattress on the floor in front of a Buffy Season 4-episode this evening, and Mistress was about to get up, she first gave me a set of hard slaps on my butt, that I had conveniently positioned beside her.

"Mmm..." I said, "that diminishes tomorrows insufferable-ness from my side with at least... oh, 0.6 percent.."
She briskly administered a few more, and I admitted that it summed up to at least a whole percent or something. Then she had to walk the dog, and left me to my own devices.

This whole topping from the bottom thing, manipulating the Owner in to punishment and sexy torture by being bratty and challenging? It really doesn't work here. Mistress is no good at bottoming from the top! She just wont play along... *pouts*

Ah well. I'm guessing I'm in for a real sever beating any day now, whether I want it or not and whether I'm insufferably bratty or not, anyway. Just as soon as Mistress has slept a few proper nights without being woken by the little one umptheenth times in a row. And since we're at Mistress' parents place over the weekend, that will most probably happen sooner rather than later.

I love that she can make me heel and behave. And I love that she doesn't have to prove to me that she can.

 

The standard treatment

It's good to be away, and it's good to come home, We went to my inlaws cabin by the sea again, and it was exactly what I needed. A lot of sleep, and a lot of sea and trees and blueberrypicking. When I needed a rest, I could take it, but when I got bored, there were my family, just outside the door, doing something silly and inviting me to join in. We bathed in the sea, we went out in the canoe, we went to a sandy beach, we went to a fair, and we walked the dogs a lot. I think I fell a little back in love with both of them, both the two-year-old and the forty-two-year-old. I have amazing darlings!

And when we left home five days ago the depression was... depressing. Opressing. I was weighed down, and most prominent was the obvious lack of joy. I had no happy. No happy feelings, nothing was fun, nothing was enjoyable. I did a lot of things that I usually like doing, and it did nothing for me.

But I kept on doing them. And today, I actually felt happy for a moment. I think maybe I did yesterday too. The trick is to keep bombarding my stagnant brain with things it has to react to, and keep doing things that usually brings joy, even if I don't feel any, and eventually, it will come back to me. I know it will. My textbooks says so... And I've decided to believe that I will function like most people, and that the standard treatment of depression will work on me too.

Behavioural activation, it's called. That, and Citalopram. I'm doing both.

And everytime I get snappy with Mistress, she says it's the meds. She might very well be right, too.

A nice weekend

We've had a weekend at my in-laws place, which means uninterrupted time together in the evenings, sleeping together all night, and having lazy breakfast in front of the tv. And besides arguing and discussing arguments, we've also had time for some other things.

She spanked me, with the leather tawse I gave her for her birthday. It hurt, a lot, and now I have a pretty bruise on my left cheek. Yesterday she bound me with the black ropes she'd brought, tying me up from the feet and all the way up to my hands. We were on a mattress in the living room, and she had me tied up for an hour, watching tv and cuddling. I love the feeling of not being able to get loose, and still being perfectly safe and comfortable.

Eventually, she took advantage of me not being able to cover anything up (not that I usually do) and started caressing me, and we ended up having sex on the floor in front of a very loud tv, masking the sound. There's definitely both pros and cons with having the in-laws downstairs (the pros being that little S is down there with them).

Tomorrow we're back to job and school and daycare and sleeping in between little S waking us up. I must say I'm not totally thrilled.

Birch

We had a wonderful Easter vacation at my in-laws cabin by the Baltic Sea in the north of Sweden. Cold, sunny days, beatiful full moon, all kinds of birds, a lot of outdoor work, and most importantly - evening, nights and mornings baby free, in our very own little miniature-cabin by the water's edge. It's really small, there's really only room for our narrow sofa bed, and a bureau with an electric kettle on, but it's ours, and we can have some privacy.

At the Easter Sunday* we made good use of this privacy, and my Owner used the birch on me. It was officially taken in as Easter decorations, and I even put some feathers in it, but these were later removed, and I tied it properly, and more for my sake than for hers, took away any twigs that were too pointy and all over the place. Eventually we had a very nice looking, traditional birch.

The carefully constructed instrument of traditional torture


The thing is, I discovered my masochistic nature around five years old, and as a young adult I also discovered internet. Which led to a lot of pornographic web surfing, at that time mostly centered on spanking. Birch featured heavily in these novels (mostly) and pictures (some). Even though that was some ten years ago, I still have very vivid images in my head about how it should be; look like, feel, and so on.

My Mistress discovered she was a sadist by hooking up with me and realising how very satisfactory it was to finally being able to slap me in the face when I mouthed off to her, after something like six years of close friendship. Her pornographic history differs from mine.

So while I was happily busy perfecting the intstrument of torture, I think she mostly smiled at my happiness, and went and did other things.

And then she had me on the bed, bare assed, and started to hit me, and I yelped and couldn't lie still, and it was very very painful. In the end, because she likes it when it's possible for me to relax in to it, she had to use it so gently at my skin that it was hardly even hitting me. When I was warmed up, she could use real strokes wothout me levitating to the ceiling, but afterwards she claimed to be bored by then, and losing interest.

*sigh*

Either she'll choose to use something else for warm up, or she'll simply tie me down and have at it anyway. Or, the saddest part, it was a bust and I'll have to take all my carefully perfected dreams about traditional Swedish corporal punishment and fold them away again in a drawer. It was, however, fun while it lasted.

Afterwards, we removed the string and throw the twigs out through the window, in the bushes. Good thing with living in the wilderness for a while!

(*Swedes have strange tradition (I should know, I am one). Almost every holiday is celebrated properly the day before the actual day... We celebrate Christmas Eve, while Christmas Day is a slacker day without much happening except eating left overs. The same with Easter - the big family get-together was Easter Eve, the day before Easter Sunday. For some reason, we apparantely celebrate that Christ is safely in the ground and will arise shortly...)

Christmas

We've actually had a great Christmas holiday. The last week was spent with my in-laws, who lives about 100 km from us. They have an extra apartment upstairs, so we have a lot of privacy and as an added bonus, the little one sleeps downstairs with grandma. Yey!

We've actually had som sex, and some spanking. I'm still kind of yearning for that really intense session, with lots of pain that I can feel afterwards, but I think that's just because I'm insatiable...

And, to top it off, we're going to a kinky party on Friday. Yey! Mistress will be wearing he tuxedo, and She's so hot in that. I'm really looking forward to it.

Now it's time to put baby to bed. Finally...

Open heart surgery

Mistress father is in the hospital, he had heart surgery yesterday. My mother-in-law is living with us, in our small three room appartment, and brought two dogs with her - their old hunting dog, and our three year-old miniature pincher, who's lived with them since before Christmas. Suddenly our home feels packed with people.

But the pros definitely outweighs the cons - grandma M cooks and cleans, and we've missed our dog a lot. Under happier cirumstances she could stay here indefinitely as far as I'm concerned. But as it is, I hope she can return to her hometown with her husband in a few days, because that would mean he is well enough to be moved.

She didn't come home from the hospital today until well after dinner, past little S's bedtime, and it turned out it was because grandpa J had developed a high fever, and she didn't want to leave him. They've taken tests, and we can only hope it isn't sepsis. I guess they will call from the hospital if it gets really bad, but apart from that, the plan is for her to go back there tomorrow morning, and we'll know more then.

I like my father-in-law. And little S loves him. He's really really important to our whole family, without him all our lifes will change for the worse. This is a scary time.