Sleepy

Insomnia strikes again.  i follow this stupid and predictable pattern-can’t take naps because i can’t fall asleep, binging happens and/or not eating happens, nighttime insomnia.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

Ugh.

Sir Raven texted me yesterday to take it easy because she knew i was up all night.  She said i could skip the farmers market, but i wanted her to have her treats, so i went anyhow.  She also said she had a rough night sleeping because i wasn’t in the bed.  So, last night, i went to bed with her and quietly laid awake for hours and hours on end.

i’m exhausted and want to sleep, really, it just isn’t happening or i fall into nightmares that are anything but restful.

i know my Master is having a stressful time at work but that it will work itself out soon.  i know that she responds to stress by going up into her head, so i have been focusing on being very quiet and making sure she has time to write and recharge every day.  i do everything i can to support her, be her warm spot to come home to.  She came home yesterday looking like the walking wounded, and i instantly felt like a huge jerk to need anything from her.  i got her fed, relaxed, and made sure at least she got a good night sleep last night.

So, anyhow, i’m doing what i can for her and focusing on that and trying to let go of what i need again.  It will get better for me as i release what i need and ignore it and quit giving into the angry eating.  i’m working on it, making sure i take walks, making sure the house is clean and calm.  i don’t have much to say, really, just a bit sad and stressed but i’ll get through it.  The important thing is my Master and focusing on her.

Will

i believe, as a slave, it is my job wherever possible to align my will with my Masters.  Unfortunately, there are things i thought were shared values going into this but the reality is my intimacy needs are unmet.

i don’t know how to align my will to hers when her words say one thing and her behaviors say another.

Which will do i align to?

The one where she says she will make intimacy, s/m, touch, a priority-

or the one where those things end up last on the list?

i think that i do okay, for long stretches, and then something inside of me breaks.  Mainly, its when i’ve absorbed a lot of stress/pain alone and need her support.  i might ask to be held, or for s/m, and get denied outright.

i feel an unreasonable level of hurt, of anger, but-hell-i have no idea what a reasonable level would be in reply to being rejected by the person i love most in the world.

i feel ugly, both physically and spiritually.  i wonder what is so wrong, so disgusting, so bad about me that i’m not worth being held.  i wonder if i am actually bad for her because i can’t one hundred percent get past these things.  Stop needing them, needing her.

It’s all the worse because she wants my child like energy around her, and what she does is exactly the same thing as telling a five year old you don’t want to hug them, cuddle them, or tuck them in at night.  That kid is going to figure out some way that it is their fault, and try to fix who they are.

i was human first.

As an adult, yes,  i feel entitled to sex and s/m.  i know me and i know what i need to best be able to function and feel connected and loved.

As a child, i’m crushed, but i keep reaching in and giving my best, brushing it off, trying harder.

i feel myself shutting down again.

i swing wildly between the self-hatred of binging and the starvation that feels so right.

i feel sick with shame.  The insomnia is back.  i feel like a bad slave, or at least a bad slave for her.  i want to hide, to scream, to shake her, to disappear.

We have these playful moments, these sweet moments, tenderness between us.  There is love and the love of being her safe spot, her warm home.

There is the damage of her lies, her empty promises.  There is the weight of my need, my shame, my regret for not being able to change who i am more than i have already.

The child part of me is dying again and i’m trying to find any way to keep that alive-for her.  Every time i ask to be held when i’m sick, scared, in pain-and get rejected-i die a little bit inside.

The thing is, i’m not sure if i care if that part of me just died off.  Sir Raven does.  It would just be easier for me to not feel anything and just work, work, work.  That is not her will.  i tried that once, for months, when i still a warm and dedicated servant and slave, but nothing more.  She was miserable.

So, even self-protective gestures won’t work because it doesn’t align to her will and compromises my own values of not taking things away that matter to my Master.

What if i’m just not good for her?

Photo blog

We had a really lovely weekend.  Sir Raven and i were invited out to a cookout in a really large park.  The morning didn’t start out very well but the day got better as it went on.  When we arrived, i was totally disappointed that my favorite ice cream truck was out there but we didn’t bring cash, so i couldn’t get a soft serve ice cream with cherry shell and sprinkles.  i was obsessed by it all day.  lol.

Sir Raven brought a folding chair and let me use her towel to sit in the grass, and i was really thankful that i was able to get up all day and serve.  i wasn’t sure i’d make it for so many hours because my tailbone makes my legs go to sleep, but it worked out fine.  i had a blind problem when i got there and accidentally stabbed someone with a steel serving fork and wanted to cry because i was really upset about it.  She was moving her hand to help me at the same time i was reaching forward and we connected because i had no idea her hand was that close at all.  The Master who knows i love and rarely get soda brought my favorite kind, which helped the nausea i live with and kept me awake.  Sir Raven was sweet when i was so flustered and let me calm down before letting me know i accidentally brought her back a hot dog when she had asked for a hamburger.  Sir Raven teased me that everyone else is sighted and knows when i’m taking pictures but she had no idea i was snapping away pictures of us when she moved down by me for a few minutes.

The whole rest of the day was really peaceful, the weather was absolutely perfect, and Sir Raven treated us to a cab ride home.  Sunday was a rest day, which we both needed.  Today has been chores, laundry, pharmacy, errands, a whirlwind of go-go-go day.  It was a good day, though, because i got everything done and a productive day is a great day.

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Where Beauty Resides

A comment asking me, “what does beauty have to do with what is going on?” really caused me to think deeply.

i’ve come to a place where i understand that beauty is intricately tied, with a thousand knots, to the abuse in my life.

My mother would say, “If you weren’t so pretty today, I’d knock you out,” and I’d thank her sincerely, go to my room, pull out a photograph of her taken in front of a driving school before she got pregnant with me and i ruined her life.  Her hair was very long and a deep, rich brown.  She had straightened it.  There was something innocent in her sweet brown eyes.  i would strip search myself in the mirror, looking for what i had done differently that day to make myself pretty enough to not be hit.  i would look for any evidence, any sign, that maybe i’d become the great beauty my mother was.

Other times, my mother would say, “Just looking at you repulses me.”  “Just the sight of you makes me sick.”

One day I zoned out on the bus ride home and got off at the next stop and had to walk an extra block home.  Florida weather is bizarre and unpredictable, and the sunny day went ominously black and rain started to fall in fat drops.  I could see my mothers car wasn’t in the driveway, but she drove up behind me.  Always excited to see her, I was smiling, rushing-but her glare of rage and disgust stopped me in my tracks.  She said, “I was late coming home and saw this poor, homely child.  I felt bad for the little girl, with her hair all a mess and her slip showing, she didn’t even have the sense to get out of the rain.  And then imagine my surprise, my disgust, when I realized the little girl was you.”  Her voice had dramatically rose up at the end, as if i had betrayed her somehow.  She threw a towel at me inside the house, and her rage couldn’t be contained.  She hit me, over and over, and i kept telling her how sorry i was for being ugly, stupid, slow.

i was 10 years old.

Another time, on vacation, i was beaten and locked outside on the balcony for the crime of eating her reeses candy.  i was only let in after hours because my brother finally admitted it was him who ate the candy.  i still apologized, because i was fully into my eating disorders by then, though no one noticed that i hadn’t eaten in days.

Other times, my mother would tell me how shameful it was to have a fat daughter.  She let me wear her favorite shirt once, and i had the nerve to start my period in it, and she beat me for it.  Because i’m disgusting.  And i ruin her things.

There was also the men to contend with that she forced into our lives, most of whom raped me.  In response to one being accused of molesting me-which he was doing-he offered this compelling argument to my mother: “Why would you want chopped liver when you can have steak?”

That remark was said hundreds of times over the years-from the age of 12 until 25, when she accused me of fucking her husband, and i dryly remarked, “Why would you want chopped liver when you could have steak?”  She had laughed and said i was right.  And then i said, “In case you haven’t noticed, i’ve got USDA stamped Grade A on my ass,” and just like magic-she laughed-and said, “Good for you, girlie.  That’s my girl.  You certainly do.”  And the fight was over.

There were also times she told me i was beautiful, that it wasn’t my fault i don’t look like her, that she would be my lover if we weren’t mother and daughter.  She would hold me and stroke me and tell me over and over.

The abuse was connected to how i look, very often.  My brother also pointedly told me how ashamed he was of my weight, and spit on me like my mother did, but also bit me until my arms were covered in bruises and bleeding.  When we got older, toward the end before i left everyone, he told me that he found girls to fuck that looked like me.  He enjoyed telling me this.  He also said he felt bad about telling me i was ugly for so many years, and that it was never true.  He’d crawl into bed with me and hold me, and tell me i was beautiful.

i did not have the option to not be held by them, any more than i had to option to not be hit or spit on.

When i am rejected by Sir Raven, i feel like the ugly little girl with her slip showing.  When she doesn’t have interest in being affectionate, holding me, s/m, sex-i think it is because i am not beautiful enough.  A more beautiful woman could melt her heart.  i’ve seen what great beauty does to men.  They are charmed by it.  They lust after it.  Beauty is a kind of power, a magic potion, a love spell.

i know what it feels like because i’ve known lovers and would-be lovers who could not deny me, who looked upon me with such lust that it could have blocked out the sun.

Beauty is a kind of safety.  So is love.  And they are connected, for me.  i believe when you love a person, they become beautiful.  Sir Raven is one of the most beautiful people in the world, to me.  Everything about her physicality is beautiful, and i’m always telling her so.

She has tried to change her language, and think to comment on my attractiveness more often.  It is a hard area, for both of us.  She has her own emotional landmines around beauty.  i don’t know that anyone-ever-has caused her to feel like she must touch them, or fuck them, or worship them because they are so damn beautiful.  That is how i feel about her, though, and i never waste a chance to tell her how beautiful she is.

i cannot change that the little girl inside needs this kind of approval.  i cannot change that she can’t provide it.  And i don’t know what to do with that.  This relationship has caused damage to me in some ways that i don’t know how to heal.

Sir Raven was talking to someone recently and remarked that someone we know-another Master-had called her to ask if she knew what i was saying about her.  This is the second time i’ve heard this remark, though the first time i asked when this happened, and it was years ago.

i don’t have the capacity to feel badly about it.  i just…don’t.  Everything i write here is true, and there is a lot that i don’t write because it would make her look bad, and that is never my intent.  This is the place i’ve been given to talk out how i feel.  So i can’t feel bad about doing that.  i won’t.  If the truth hurts, then all one can do is change the truth.

 

 

Whirlwind, inside and out

It’s been a really busy Friday.  i spent yesterday dusting, getting organized, and shredding Masters basket that holds paperwork and stuff that can’t go right out to the garbage.  Then, i gave into my exhaustion, put on pjs and ate popcorn in bed and watched netflix until she came home.  It was her late night, and she got home even later than normal, wolfing down dinner at 9:30.

i was a bit down yesterday from the doctor’s appointment.  i had an interesting adventure getting there, with a very late bus and then the 6 train did not stop at 68th street at all.  i had to get out at 59th and Lexington, go to the window, and ask for help.  i was able to handle it calmly, the attendant was really nice, giving me directions three times and refunding my trip.  She was angry that they didn’t stop at the required stop, and understood that this particular stop was a large maze with multiple ways to get lost.  i have to say, that when you get lost in the subway and figure it out, you feel like a world-class genius.  After that, i still had to figure out how to correctly exit to Hunter College, because i was now coming at it from a totally different angle.  So, i thought a tiny celebration was in order, when i handled all that calmly and was still half an hour early for my appointment.

i went to Bel-Ami and saw cupcakes, my favorite kind, but instead i got a coffee cake to bring home to Sir Raven and an iced green tea for me.  i sat on my second favorite bench by Central Park, pouted a little over wanting ALL THE CUPCAKES and took more meds.

The doctors appointment itself went well.  i had a form i had to have filled out, which Sir Raven had graciously faxed in for me, so they had time and i didn’t have to feel like a pain in the ass at the appointment.  Fortunately, i remembered to bring the originals with me after i rushed through my morning chores.  Sir Raven called to remind me, but was pleased it was already in my purse.  The form is to certify that i’m still permanently and totally disabled, unable to perform any kind of work.  Intellectually, i know it is true, and i’m thankful for the 800 a month it provides.  Emotionally, it feels like being kicked in the stomach.

We scheduled shots again for next month.  i was also told about a surgery that could implant a nerve blocker in my back and that this is an option further down the road, when the shots stop working for less than a month.  i am glad there are still options.

i left the house at noon and got home around 4:30, headed back out to get wine and snacks for Sir Raven.  She had picked up shrimp to make her famous tempura, but realized when she got home at 12:30 that we didn’t have tempura or enough oil and texted me to get that on the way home, which i did.  She fixed dinner and i cleaned everything up.  i almost hate to get tempura shrimp and veggies when we eat out now, because hers is so damn good.

Last night i was feeling a bit emotional, partly from pain and partly from a movie called Telulah on Netflix.  A totally fucked up, rich, addicted woman gave her one year old baby to a complete stranger to watch.  The stranger took the baby and took care of her and the baby naturally bonded where she had zero bond with her bio mom.  At the end, she was arrested for kidnapping, but the cops by this point knew the mother was a total fuck-up, who had zero regard for her child.  It made me think of my boys, how the police had photos of the hoarding house my brother lived in, with loaded guns in every room and drugs stashed in the closet.  At the time, the boys were living with me, and their parents bothered to see them maybe once a month for a day or two.  Even that proved too much and the boys came home to me with severe diaper rashes from not being changed, not being fed, and witnessing abuse.

The police arrested my brother, not for child abuse (which should have happened to BOTH “parents”) but for 26 felonies.  i begged him to give me half custody, so they could stay with me.  My mother bailed his sorry ass out, paid ten grand to an attorney, who stalled things for a year.  My brother refused to give me any rights whatsoever, and the boys continued to live with me, except for the rare occasion that the “mother” would show up high and take them for the day or so.  We lived all of five miles apart, but they didn’t care, didn’t call, didn’t supply anything.  The police showed up with the mother the day after Easter and took them from me.  i saw them twice after that, at supervised visitation for my brother who didn’t use it more than once.  The mother met me two other times, assuring me she never meant to take them away form me.  My youngest-Jacob-called me Mama, even though we desperately tried to get him to say Auntie.  He refused.  His speech was extremely delayed, his walking was extremely delayed, but he was very gifted in other areas like spacial awareness.  Both boys came running to me, crying and yelling for me, at visitations.  When they saw their parents, they had no reaction at all.  i felt bad about that, but the worst part was knowing that from the boys perspective, it must have seemed like their mommy-me-left them.

i tried everything.  Everything.  No one would listen to me.  Not Child protective services, the police, the judge.

Years have gone by and they are likely past saving.  i know that the first 3-5 years is the difference between my boys becoming sociopaths or not.  i don’t know if i managed to break that cycle.  i don’t know what else they have seen.

If i had not lost my sight by that point, i would have literally taken my boys and ran with them.  It would have never crossed my mind that it would be considered kidnapping.  How can you kidnap your own flesh and blood?  The children of your heart, who cry  for you?

With all of this whirling through my head, i tried to sleep, but couldn’t.  i wanted Sir Raven to hold me, but i know she won’t.  She just-won’t.  i must have gotten up and binged at some point, in anger.  Today, i went crazy cleaning ALL THE THINGS.  The house is dusted, fresh sheets on the bed, snacks for Sir Ravens weekend are here, errands run, house mopped fresh, energy clean.

i had a mini panic attack when i couldn’t find my little mothers day diamond pendent that i don’t wear because i don’t have a gold necklace.  i know we are trying to not spent a bunch of money right now because we are headed to MSC at the end of the month, but i feel like i need to have it on me.  i received it for my Brandon’s fifth year of life, honoring my motherhood, and i wore it when both of my boys were born.  All three of my boys have grown up with me wearing it, and it would mean a lot to me to wear it again.

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Picture Blog

From Karida Birthday:

We ate at her favorite place for lunch and had the best honey chicken *ever.*  Then, we went shopping at a place that only sells barrettes and ribbons and headbands and i got CAT EARS that are shiny.  We giggled and had fun and she liked her gifts.  Yay.  Then, we went to Dylan’s Candy Bar for an ice cream with cotton candy and candy on it.  We got some little treats, and i couldn’t resist getting some treats for Sir Raven, too.  She needed a new water bottle, and this one had super heros.  Our stuffies were born on Karida’s birthday so they joined in on the fun.

Then, over the weekend, we had sushi and sake with Sir Josh and Rosanne.  Or, as Ro and i call it: Master’s Gone Wild.  That was a plate for two, and it had lights and everything!  We were there a whopping five hours.  Then we got frozen yogurt and i got to make my own.  :D

Today has been long, and i’m mentally tired and so sore that my bones have hurt all day.  But i realized i haven’t posted in a while and needed to.  i am hoping for cupcakes in my near future.  Because i can’t stop thinking about the cupcake stores on Lexington.  One has a cupcake ATM people!  How awesome is that idea?

Tomorrow, i have the pain management doctor but i’ll try and do a real post soon.  Sir Raven and i have just been busy working on some writing together and i’m focused on that.

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Lovely day

i woke up late, since it took me for-ev-er to fall asleep last night.  Everything felt sick and sore when i finally made it out of bed and stumbled toward the french press, which was cold.  i was happy to have anything to drink to get the meds going, at that point.  i sat on my playpen and rocked myself for an hour or so, my body not wanting to do anything but go back to bed and sleep.

Slavery called, however, and it’s farmer’s market day.  Outside, the weather was brutally humid.  i had to get all of the morning chores done and showered.  i had pulled my hair up into a pony tail to keep it off my face and neck, but it was so humid it took hours and hours to dry.  i wish i could say the same about my shirt, which was wet with sweat coming back home with Sir Raven’s little pie, tomatoes, fresh corn on the cob, and cinnamon rolls for her to take to work.  She has had a ton of meetings this week, and i know that takes a lot out of her, so i thought an extra treat was in order.🙂

When i got everything put up, it was time to head right back out to the laundry mat, where i managed to find the last washing machine which wasn’t a double-loader.  Hours of my life are spent doing laundry since i have to haul it down to the corner, take a bus two miles, do the wash and folding, and make it back home and up the stairs with it all.  The day was made far better by a phone call from Karida, setting up plans for her birthday celebration Friday.  And i got to have a lovely long texting chat with another friend.  It amazing what history we have, since i’ve known her since my early twenties, and its hilarious how often we jinx each other. It’s oddly comforting for someone to know my past, someone who has actually talked with my mother, talked with my kidnapper, seen my ups and downs and that i’ve seen hers.  And yet, we have never laid eyes on each other, despite years of so many hugs over the phone.  So, we are working out a way to change that, because a real life hug is needed.  :D

Karida and i have birthday plans for her, and it involves lots of girl-time fun, like going to Dylan’s Candy Store for ice cream and a new store full of hair stuff and accessories.  It should be fun.  Plus, i’m excited to give her birthday gifts to her.  i’ve had them for awhile, but there are a few extras i want to add in, and i need to wrap it all.  This will be the first year we are not going to Tiffanys but we are going to have one of her favorite meals for lunch before we load up on candy and ribbons.  :)

Sir Raven is still out.  She went to a Spiritual Birthday for a Priest who always comes to her Spiritual Birthday.  i think this is important, and am always glad they make that time for each other.  Since i know she is being fed and is enjoying the company, i went out and got a much needed pedicure.  Because–damn–i was looking horrible.  i still need to get my nails done (it is actually a rule) but i ran out of time.  They got new massaging chairs since i was there last and it was delicious.

i stopped on the way home for a subway sandwich, which i can’t even recall the last time i did that.  i also got the best ice cream on the planet: Mr. Softee (might be the only good time for that name to be said).  i like mine dipped in cherry and sprinkles.  Pure heaven for 2.50.  Bliss all the way.

i’m trying to take care of myself in small ways that feel big.  i very often put myself last on the list, so its important that i practice doing what i can to feel good.

It was so nice to come home, look around at how nice the house looks, everything clean and in place, and just put my pjs on and eat and relax.  Sir Raven’s Spiritual Birthday and the time leading up to it are a stressful time for her, and by default for me.  i’ve learned that i need to lean in, trust us, and make sure we both have adequate rest after it is done.  i’m getting my rest bits in here and there.  i work so hard at making everything effortless for her, everything done well, and i need to recharge myself too.  What i really need, of course, is my Master to feel good and be able to put energy back into us.  We both could use some major playtime, and i’ve asked, but i’m politely waiting for her to have the energy for us.  :D