Service

The role of service is only secondary to cheerful obedience in this house.  Yesterday, I got the house properly dusted and mopped.  Someone wrote asking me to post my cleaning schedule, and this is pretty much it.

Daily Morning Chores:

Make french press, put away clean dishes, sort recycling to take down, make the bed, shower and make-up, clean bathroom, wash ashtrays, sweet and mop house.  Wipe down countertops and stove.

Afternoon Chores:

Errands, laundry, shopping, homework, dinner prep.

Evening Chores:

Cook and serve dinner, clean up the kitchen, bring Sir Raven iced water and meds, set up the french press, make her lunch if it’s requested.

In Addition:

Monday:

Dust livingroom, do laundry, wipe outside of the cabinets, go over menu for the week, clean out and wash frig.

Tuesday:

Focus on reading my chapters for school, groceries, beer run.

Wednesday:

Dust livingroom, scrub bathroom floor, Farmer’s Market.

Thursday:

Short papers due in both classes.  Start long paper due Sunday for each class.  Study for tests.

Friday:

Change sheets, dust bedroom, groceries.

Saturday:

Finish up any items that got moved around from last-minute changes or Dr. Appointments.

Sunday:

Serve breakfast in bed, clean kitchen and bathroom.  Everything is due for school, take tests, if any.

Monthly:

Wipe down walls, wipe down baseboards, pull out all furniture to wash underneath, make monthly list for BJ’s, wash comforters and blankets.

*********

I’m sure I’m forgetting some things, but i’m wiped out.  We made a huge BJ’s trip, for her Summer Reading program, her Spiritual Birthday, and our household needs.  Then, we ran over to Target, for the fastest shopping trip ever.  We needed silverware and glasses.  Sir Raven parked while I ran the boxes of treats in for the program for her kids.  Then, we worked to get a car load into the house.  i got everything put up while Sir Raven returned the car she rented for us to get all of this done.  It was pretty funny because the car was really Lux inside but made all of these sounds like it was going to just start flying at any moment.  Heh.

She let me get another sippy because i drop my cup every. Single. Day.

Ahem.

That’s what happened to the glasses.  Me.

Fortunately, her friends are gracious about the whole thing and i’ve been unable to make it to TJ Max to buy more.  I’m spending hours upon hours on my classes, because evidently Grad Students are allowed to be tortured.  Heh.  I’m so damn lucky though to be able to earn this degree, so that is what i’m focusing on.  And you saw the rest of my list.  At least four days a week, i sit up and work on school work or do other things i don’t have time for otherwise.  Research.  Blog. Decompressing with word puzzles.  Meditate.

This is also our personal household Crunch Season where we have to attend Spiritual Events where i have to spend hours talking.  Egods.  i’ve gotten tons better at it, because of Sir Raven, so it’s far easier.  It’s exhausting for me, but at the same time, i really love it.  Her Elders are so valuable and her Spirituality gave me a family.  i’m literally in love with the Shango in her and with us.  And so i’m delighted to learn more each year, grow to feel more comfortable and stop being so surprised when people say lovely things about me.  i always feel so much love.  Sir Raven’s Gods have become my Gods, and her people, my people.

So it is genuinely my honor to be allowed to help out, to know what to do, and to be able to act with grace.  Perhaps more than anywhere else, i see how we have grown as a Master and slave this year.  We have grown together, grown stronger, still in love.  i’m very lucky, both as a woman and a slave, and i always work so my service reflects that knowledge.

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Dunce girl

I’ve had a few great days.  i always feel happier when i’ve been extra productive and have any chance to help out, even a little bit.  The last week has been higher overall every day on the pain scale.  At least, though i can look around and feel good about it.

i’m going to have pain either way, so i’d rather be doing projects.

i think i want to paint the kitchen.

Anyhow, by last night, i really was feeling wiped out.  Sir Raven went out after work, so i had extra quiet time to work, which i basically spent reading directions and the discussions and responding to that.  i’ve lost my place several times.  i accept that i have to work twice or three times as hard as everyone else.  It’s really all i have known.

When Sir Raven got home, i fed her and asked about her day, and offered her a pedicure.  i already had the stuff out, but she felt it was too late.  She went to shower and bed to relax, and i went in and just sat with her, touching her for awhile.  She didn’t push me away, which was nice.

She asked how my homework was going and i told her what i was working on, very briefly, and pointed out that five chapters was a lot for me to read and retain.  i told her that i needed to either go to bed early with her and get up early, or pull an all night session.  Which should i do?

She told me to split it and get some done tonight, some in the morning.

i must have been more tired than i thought.

i re did last weeks paper, totally unaware i had already done it.  i felt like i needed a giant dunce cap.  i decided to take a break, consider my level of pain and if i need to take meds.  i ended up so distracted i was looking at desks on Ikea.  For absolutely no reason at all that makes sense.

So. Um. i figured that meant i needed to go to bed and noticed i had just spent an hour messing around, doing nothing online.

There are times i know my Master is compassionate because i do something dumb like that and think, “If i owned a girl who did that, she’d not be able to sit down comfortably for a week.”

We are leaving here at 2pm, to take care of some obligations.  i’m thinking of taking my laptop so i can work when i’m not cleaning.  We’ll see what she thinks.  i’m trying to ask about everything and not pre-think anything.

Stuff slaves say…

Speaking to a friend, i say, “Oh, my God.  If i wrote and posted something that crazy to fet Sir Raven would break my fingers.

And, knowing my goodliest Master quite well, replied immediately, “Yeah.  She really would.”

*******

Me: on the phone with another friend….”i think it would be realistic for me to be there around ten am.  That will give me enough time to get my chores, you know the morning bullshit…..”

and then realizing that my Master was sitting in the room with me my voice sheepishly trailed off….”ah, um, you know I just mean the morning list,”

and i felt another pang because i quit making lists.

*****

In another conversation:

“What do you mean you stopped making lists?”

me: “I don’t know.  I just stopped.”

Her: “Have you lost your mind?  Are you testing the waters?”

me: “No.  (long pause) i don’t think so.”

*****

Me, speaking to Sir Raven, about someone’s crazy eyes:

“That fucker is scary.  And do you know how scary a person really has to be to scare me?”

And then i thought of who i was talking to, her magnificent and ferocious beast inside, the animal i tease knowing full well in the end she will win.  Frankly, i want her to-i’m depending on that part of her because it brings out my best.  Easily. Simply. i got the idea through nature and nurture.

Fear goes straight to my cunt.  i remember understanding early about a bodies response, and my sense of shame got conflated with my sexuality.  i didn’t understand this for years (thanks, useless asshole therapists).  When i was twelve and hitting puberty, and the sexual abuse came up, i didn’t know that shame is located in the genitals.  It makes sense, an easy puzzle piece to slide together.  i read the DSM when i was 12, and it didn’t make me feel more comfortable and understanding i was sexually a masochist.  i spent a few years worrying that rapes and abuse got mixed up with sexuality and caused my sense of what is erotic.  And then i decided that i couldn’t care less anymore about how a switch got turned on inside of me.

The truth is that had i not come to Sir Raven with some lessons already intact like breathing, she would have had to teach me herself.  We wouldn’t have enjoyed that little process.  It tends to get bruisy and welting and trying to crawl into the wall with me.  Just the sound of a belt or strap frightens me.

In the end, it does all serve her, even if we both hate the means.  The means of getting here is behind me, and behind us.  And that is why she doesn’t want me looking back.  She was absolutely right, of course.  Seeing the boys, my boys, with all of the light gone from their eyes ripped my soul open.

And if i had obeyed, in the spirit of what she wanted, i’d not be looking for pictures.  But i was.  And then i had to take time and zoom into their eyes and behold it.

i closed my eyes and prayed for them, asked her family for help, and have to turn away to focus on my Master.  That’s what i should have been doing all along.  i focused on service, on being consistent, and how clean the house is, if she enjoys her meals.  i focused on hiding this gaping wound.  This is good, it is as it should be.  i’ve grown a lot because of Sir Raven, but it’s time to find a way to honor them in a way that does not take my heart away.

It’s not mine to give.

Considering some ideas

i’ve been thinking about some plans to help myself.  i remembered that i tracked everything through a free program called fitday before.  That was how i was surprised to discover that i was eating 800 calories a day, on average.  i had hit a weight loss plateau, despite lots of heavy yard work and cleaning.

Anyhow, the program helped, but i don’t know if it helped because of what happened when i went under 800 calories a day that caused me to shape up.  i think both.

i can’t keep resenting how i’m wired, because that isn’t super helpful.

i need to focus on what i can control, which is minimal.

i’m thinking about trying fitday again, but only if Sir Raven thinks it’s a good idea.  i need to ask about it because a less rigid approach is not working for me.

She doesn’t want me obsessing and right now that is all i’m doing.  I’m either obsessing about the food itself or about my weight.  It’s not doing my back any favors, either.  This is heavy on my mind since falling and the days i could hardly put any weight on my right leg.  My studies can’t afford for me to be that distracted by pain.  Sir Raven got me some new medicine, though, and so there is a lot of hope that i can get better.

i got a nice, hot shower and put up make-up and a fresh dress.  It’s a start.

i’m technically not supposed to go out of the house without a bra on but i literally can’t get a bra on.  i have no idea who in the world Sir Raven thinks is looking at my breasts.  Seriously.  No one is looking at me.  That’s a part of how i let myself get here again.  i feel invisible.  That is comforting.  Calming.

Otherwise, i’m deliberating focusing on gratitude.  i need to get back to the daily meditations.  i’m paying attention to all of the wonderful things in my life.  i’m focused.

Being here for her pleasure and her use is exactly that.  For her.

i need to stay out of my own way and take comfort that this–denial–is her will.

Glass half full

i’m an optimist who tries to be a realist.

i know that.

i also know that a life without gratitude isn’t worth living, because there is always so much to be grateful for.  i have an abundance of blessings from something as arbitrary as life.

Yesterday, Sir Raven was such an angel.  She carried the laundry to and from the laundry mat for me.  It was so hot and i was so nauseated that i asked for a sprite and she went next door to get one for me.  She understands all too well about difficult and painful periods, so with that and the heat she let me go to bed early to watch documentaries and chill out.  She tucked me in, even and cleaned up my snack.

Why in the hell do i want to focus on anything else?

i don’t.

She is here, with me, loving and in love, working hard and willing to work hard.

i’m a lucky slave, really.  i don’t ever forget that.

i needed to write, bless, and release what i wrote before.

i needed to remember that life is a matter of perspective and the rest of things can still work out.

i think it’s not helpful to feel guilty for normal needs, and so i’m trying to work on that.  Guilt and self-hatred are not good allies.  Plus, they make me fat.  😛

i have this resource here, friends who care, and a Master that i can’t wait to see every day.  i need to be more aware of being mindful because i’ve obviously lost sight of that somewhat or i wouldn’t be stuffing down too big feelings.  i also need to be sure to rest because the lack of sleep is really kicking my butt.  And that is Sir Raven’s job.  i must be doing things right enough because she is happy with me.  That is what really matters most of all.

Tears don’t dry on their own

i keep thinking about the complicated dichotomy of TTWD.  It’s a strange comfort knowing i’m not the only one who finds both fulfillment and pain in the same union.  It’s a comfort i’d readily do without.

i can’t find the post that got me thinking over at sofia’s blog.  Sorry sofia.  In it, she writes about her amazing Man, who she clearly loves for lots of reasons.  The thing that brought them together though, the BDSM, the need so profound…..isn’t being satisfied.  It seems that he has Reasons.  And he shares them with her, though i din’t know if any of them make sense to her.

Every time there is a need to shift in my relationship, to accept, to bend, to understand, to acquiesce….it’s always me who capitulates.  It’s my job to orbit around her.  Of course it is.  Most of the time, i just accept it and move the way she needs me to move.

There is so much good.  

We are playful together, like the other morning when Sir Raven was ironing her shirt for work.  She prefers to touch it up herself and i prefer to ingest french press the moment i open my eyes.  Hopefully, i peeked around the kitchen doorway in the direction of the coffee i can smell.  Wordlessly, Sir Raven turns around and sprays me with the water bottle she uses to iron.  i protest i’m not a kitty but we giggled.

She is steadfast.  i never have to worry about getting to the doctor, having money for food, having her come home to me.  She provides me with a sense of security.  i know who i am because i am Her’s.

We truly enjoy each other, in the easy way i’ve never seen modeled.  We take pride in each other.  Sir Raven noted once that we complete each other.

i feel a sense of wonder at us, sometimes, because who has all of this good?

i feel a sense of shame at myself, sometimes, because who has all of this good and still wants an elusive more?

All of the shame in the world can’t change how i’m wired, or the culture i grew up in.  We are a hyper-sexed culture, one that promotes sexuality everywhere and simultaneously shames women who want it.  We watch movies where couples argue and then sex is shown-like a cinematic nod that everything is okay again.  We use sex like is a barometer of the overall health of our marriages.  A lack of sex denotes a kind of personal failure in a marriage.  A lack of sex suggests a lack of attractiveness somehow.

Then there is another layer: s/m.

It’s not just about the physical.  It’s the emotional gratification of something inside so deep, so intense, that we’d move heaven and earth to have it.  Those moments of utter perfection.  Those moments of effortless peace.  It’s a sense of alignment, that there is a complete agreement between my body and what i feel inside.

A few weeks ago, talking to a trans person who has modified their body to match how they feel, he tells me that everything feels “off” when your body doesn’t match up with who you are inside.

Thinking about this for awhile, i think that i know how this feels.  My sexuality, my gender expression, my sense of self is dulled.  Not because my genitals don’t match.  Thankfully, they do.  But because my sense of agency and desire is destroyed, my body and soul detached.

For me, four years in, it’s become too painful to have hope spring up and get dashed.  It doesn’t stop me from thinking what i’m always thinking: that if i could find the right words, the right way to express needing her touch/her body/ her dick/ her pain…everything would mesh and work.

i realize something painful in the last few days.

i don’t care anymore.

i’ve paid a price for that, a huge weight gain, punishing myself for feeling and wanting until i can’t do either anymore.

My self confidence is replaced by moments of intense loathing that sends tears spilling down my face.  Maybe it’s easier to blame myself even if Sir Raven tells me that it isn’t a problem for her.

i tell her that i need her to tell me sometimes that i’m beautiful.  i know it’s silly, i do.  But i don’t even know what she finds attractive about me physically, in part because she isn’t inclined to often say anything.  She says its because i rebut her, but that is even more reason i need it to sink in.

i realize how numb i am inside, everything replaced by repugnance at myself.

i do what i’ve always done-turn the anger inward onto me.  With food.

But i’ve achieved it, Master.

i no longer care if we have sex, if you beat me for fun.  i can understand why no one would want to touch me like this.  And as i write this the tears flow, the private ones i never let you see.  It isn’t pleasant, the silent tears.

Last night i realized how much i just needed touch, needed to be held.  And i ask.  Because we are supposed to communicate and that is supposed to fix everything.  But it doesn’t.  Instead she holds my hand and i stare dumbly at the space in the bed between us.  She uses me body heat to warm her frozen legs and feet and removes them once she is warm.  She won’t hold me, not even for awhile.  In her sleep, she withdraws even her hand holding mine and i feel a flash of rage.  Self hatred.  Shame.  i turn away in the bed, face the wall, and unconsciously stim for a long time before i realize what i’m doing and silently cry.  i remember the documentary on failure to thrive children, watching them rock themselves laying down, just like me.

i need to not care about this too.  i tell myself i’m being stupid.  It’s not a big deal, touch.

There is so much good, and that is what i focus on.  i’m the problem here, wanting more.  i am desperate to loose the weight but keep falling into binge eating to keep myself numb.  i have no delusions that weight loss will change anything other than my feelings of self-hatred, but right now that would help a lot.  i know i’ll find my way to acceptance about the situation, but i need to get some control over myself.  Somehow.

Fibromyalgia Hell

i couldn’t sleep again last night, until around 3am.  i was back up at seven.  My tummy is so messed up i have only had one cup of coffee so my brain won’t turn on.  Heh.  i misunderstood a whole assignment so evidently i need to make more french press.

i’m super thankful for the cold a/c because the heat is rolling off the sidewalks outside.  The whole block is uncharacteristically quiet.  Generally this is a sign of a problem and i get my butt home as soon as possible.  i went out for a few things we needed but that was it.

i’m so tired.

i got an amazing nap in yesterday while Sir Raven went on Second Life.  She couldn’t talk, though, because she said i was moaning in pain loud enough it would have been heard.  That was the best sleep i’ve had all month.

i did work last night. i wrote a paper and then cried.  Wrote another and cried again.  The pain was just so bad.  i made tacos for dinner and couldn’t bend far enough to get the fresh cilantro out of the bin in the frig.  i dropped all kinds of stuff all day that Sir Raven picked up.

She said she wants me to not be apologetic about this stuff, not in the sense that she thinks the undertone suggests insecurity that she will leave me.

i don’t think that.  Not even in my worst hours.  Not really.

She knew i was sick before she had real feelings for me.  She made her choice and would pick me again.  In my heart, i know that.  i just need to stay focused on that because there are times i just feel misery and exhaustion, no end in sight.

There are so many i just want her near me, just crave her touch, just want to curl up with her.  i can’t.  One reason is she has more sympathy pain with me when we touch.  Another is that she just isn’t cuddly or touchy at all a lot of the times.  So i really savor it when she gets touch hungry.

There are times i wish she could communicate with me more, because that would help.  In her estimation, if she isn’t complaining then everything is good.  That works for me-until i’m feeling really sick, bad about myself, having to push through every minute and every task.  i need to feel like i’m more than a servant and a patient.

i keep dreaming about my brother, and i’m holding him and telling him that i love him.  i don’t know what that is about or why that is happening.  He is the one person i love unconditionally.  He’s also the person who taught me that love should have conditions attached.  Some things love should not be asked to bear.

i need to get up and clean awhile.  i’m breaking my own rule and putting on pjs, maybe making some herbal tea. i’m just in a horrible flare, feel flu-ish, everything aches, and burns.  i need to focus on what i can do, on pleasing Sir Raven.  Nothing feels better than that.