Spring in the City

i woke up early this morning, greeted by Sir Raven, who asked what i was doing up.  i thought she was gently teasing me at first, because i was up writing the last post at 2 am and it was 3am or later when i finally went to sleep.

The french press i set up the night before was made and still hot at 8am.  i took meds, drank coffee, and poured over blogs until she called for breakfast.  i served her kilbasa sausage, peppers and onions, scrambled eggs, whole wheat bread with butter, and orange juice.  Then i went back to enjoying blogs until i had enough medicine working to enjoy a nice, hot bath.  The whole room was lightly scented with my orchid body wash, which makes nice frothy bubbles.  i returned to the livingroom nude, putting lotion all over my shaved legs and cunt.  i put on a fresh nightie to apply make-up and make more coffee and Sir Raven suggested we take a walk together.  i asked for the botanical gardens, which was sheer perfection.  i had never seen cherry blossoms until i was with her in New York, though i knew they were an ancient symbol of slavery.  Words cannot convey how perfect the shade of pink is or how happy i was to be hand in hand, enjoying the perfect weather and knowing that she had enjoyed her long weekend.  Even though i have moments of intense pain and need, my core is fulfilled knowing i have done well to please her, seen to her needs for rest and took care of every need.  i wait on her hand and foot daily, but it is something special when we get long weekends, time without the world intruding.

Sir Raven is a sneaky camera man and got some pictures of me and let me take several of us together.  🙂

 

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A thousand cuts

A death of a thousand small cuts kills, too.  That is what i was thinking of tonight, when i got rejected again.

i mentioned before that i had been reading books about communicating with autism and women with autism over the winter.  i’ve been meaning to come back to that and write about it for awhile, but can’t ever seem to get it placed in my head right to get it on paper.

Still, i need to try.

When i got the chance to be in another house over the winter, every single thing that was done had a specific way it had to be taken care of.  i was trying to help out, but since i didn’t know how to do anything, she would explain each detail.  She would start by saying, “This is weird, but…”

Except i didn’t think it was weird.  Sir Raven had her own specific way every single thing which needed to be done, she just hid it better than this other man, because her words imply that she isn’t highly interested in how things are done.  This is entirely untrue.

Slowly, it occurred to me what i was seeing was how a slave had been conditioned to allow the Master to exist in the perfect autistic bubble, one they both needed.  All of the signs were there-the hypersensitivity to smell, the order, the fine detail of how many ice cubes go in a glass, the formal language style, the formal manners, the need to spend countless hours on his Special Interest without any interruption, the texting as a preferred method of communication.  It all came together to form one conclusion, one i’m certain of.

But that’s not all.

As i read the Aspien Women book, more understanding emerged.  One of the important points was that women who are on the autism scale often find other autistic partners.  Some are so disturbed by their sensory issues that they develop personalities as a coping mechanism.  Women seem to have better adaptive skills, better communication skills, and Special Interests that are easier to adapt to wider areas than males.  While a male Special Interest might be Quantum Physics, a female Special Interest could be Self-Improvement.

Simply, the woman with autism can blend in better, though some males fit the female profile as well.

i kept thinking about how hard it is for Sir Raven to express emotion and how hard it is for me to not be passive, to not obsessively apologize.  One way autism can manifest itself is through these traits, ones that Sir Raven has been hyper critical of in me, especially the apologizing to strangers because i don’t know the difference between if they walked into me or me into them.  In any event, the more she criticized me for basically being me, the more withdrawn i became because any conversation became hostile and hurt me.

One of the books offered a lot of practical suggestions.  Oddly, several of them i have tried many times, like asking her to quantify how much something matters to her on a scale of one to ten.  Or pointing out that constant criticism damages relationships and ways to combat that (gratitude journals, jars that are for positive remarks).  They also suggested using very clear and precise language, which seems sensible.  Rather than say, “Could you help me around here?” it is better to ask for what you actually want.

But i don’t want her help around the house.  i want affection that doesn’t come with disdain, hurtful words, or only from the child part of her or the child part of me.

i want the same things i’m continually assured of, that we will get to, that time will be made for, or that she is working on it.

So, i try more clear, more precise language.  i make sure she isn’t exhausted, hungry, distracted, or stressed first.  Just getting those things taken care of is daunting.  But finally, the stars align.  And i ask.  Clearly. Precisely.

She offers to turn on netflix in bed instead.  i’m hurt, more hurt for the clearly asking, more hurt for the years of empty promises.  She goes back to watching TV.  She says something, and i think she is just talking to the television.  When i realize she has asked me something about what is on, which happens to be about celebrating sexuality, i notice my tone comes out flat and have to force myself to lighten it.  Behind my eyes, pin pricks of hot and angry tears want out.  But we have a talk about nothing instead.  Just out normal, hanging out stuff.

Maybe hanging out is her Special Interest.

i was her Special Interest once.  And that is all i was.  A fleeting obsession.

i know she has drifted so far away that putting her arm around me in bed is a big deal, proof she is trying to reconnect.  The problem is i’ve been sliced a thousand times before.

Yesterday, when i picked up groceries and was coming home an old Spanish man stopped me in the street to tell me that i’m a good wife.  This kind of thing happens often, out of the blue, for no reason.  Then, a few blocks later, a person whose build and energy that reminds me of Dawn so much that i had a visceral reaction.  i had to talk myself down, noticing every increased gush of blood roaring through my head.  i was calm, made it home, got everything put up, and asked to bring my floor pillow over to Sir Raven.

i considered not saying anything.  i often do not when something triggers me.  But then i thought if i want connection, i have to start with me.  The lack of passion, of sex, of s/m, of reaction to my hurt-it all depersonalizes me.  What Dawn taught me was that it’s painfully easy to be cruel when your victim is depersonalized.  If i had been smart enough to use sex, she would have been far less cruel.  i ended up her kidnap victim, overpowered, unable to think or feel, or do anything but clean and watch tv chained up.  She was so obsessed with having me, keeping me, that she shattered me totally.

This newest realization, this understanding that i’m being depersonalized again, see saws back and forth between me fighting for love and sinking into nothing but what i’ve been programmed to be.  When Dawn loved me i had a measure of safety and the lesson was so well learned that i equate love with safety now.  Because i’ve seen what people can do without it once they have had total control.

The only actual control that i have is to tightly control myself, tightly manage my emotions, because there is no outlet to vent, to examine ideas, save here.  Of course my sex drive is insane due to deprivation, due to being a non person, due to my brain not being medicated, and because it is a way that forces connection.  Forces me to be seen. Forces emotion to be expressed.

Through it all though i’m happy overall.  i’ve been programmed to be happy in quiet domesticity.  One person suggests i brain wash myself, which goes to prove her lack of true understanding of how brainwashing and stockholm syndrome work.  The same person suggests i’m uber controlling and i look around my life and laugh.  It is both true and profoundly false.  i’m just trying to seal up the tiny cuts, siphon out the rage, smile and be happy in the life i am given.  i don’t know anything else, never have.

Adoration

i was thinking about adoration while i painted this.  i took the photo of Mary in Savannah because the stained glass was so beautiful.  The whole trip was beautiful and i’ve been wanting to use the photo in a piece for awhile.  The key goes to nowhere.  i happen to love keys and have kept a key to every place i’ve ever lived.  Sir Raven has a lovely collection of skeleton keys, and i might have used one of them, had i thought of it.  i suppose this key needed to be on canvas, or near Mary, or both. 🙂

When i tell Sir Raven i adore her, i do mean it.  The mother in me adores the little boy in her, but i never realized until we were in therapy together that we very often relate that way.  i go out of my way to love and delight the child inside of her, showering her with special treats.  Sometimes, at night, she has nightmares and i rub her back in slow circles and whisper, “You are safe sweet boy.  i am here sweet girl.”

When i tell Sir Raven i adore her, i also mean that i feel adoration for the Priest in her.  i’m deeply in love with the Shango in her.IMG_1282 i can see the best she has inside of her, and my adoration comes close to worship when she personifies her best, when her will comes through in action.  My Master is a dreamer, an Aquarius, a deep thinker, and she puts a lot of herself into these pursuits.  It’s been a long time since we reached a holy place together, one where she unabashedly delights in the Priest inside of her and the Priestess inside of me.  The other night, i stole a photo while she slept.  The candle light on her face made me remember and it longed to be captured, just as beautiful as any stained glass, in any cathedral.  i long for her to be my holy.

 

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Surprises

Thursday evening, Sir Raven surprised me by telling me she had Friday off work.  Thankfully, i had already largely prepared for her weekend off.  We had planned to go out to Old Navy to return a skirt that didn’t fit me and get burgers together but Karida called and offered to come over and dye my hair.  Bless her.  A lovely second surprise.

While Karida made the hour long train ride to the Bronx, i fixed bacon, waffles, scrambled eggs, and french press.  Sir Raven enjoyed her breakfast and i was finishing up the last few dishes when Karida arrived.  My hair had not been treated since late November and was looking really bad.  Grey hair makes me feel like i look dirty.

After she left, i went out for a few extras and made Sir Raven’s lunch.  Well, actually, Sir Raven made the chicken salad because i’m not good at finely chopping the apples or deboning the left over roasted chicken.  She likes her chicken salad with cranraisins, apples, and ground pepper.  We had crackers, fresh fruit, and she had plenty of wine.  i was hoping i’d ply her with enough alcohol that she’d be amenable to some amorous attention but we enjoyed hanging out and watching movies together instead.

Sir Raven and i both had an up and down night.  She let me sleep in because of my rough pain night and i wasn’t finished with my morning chores until nearly 2.  She was thoughtful (or wise) and let me have my first cup of hot french press before she wanted breakfast.  i offered her turkey bacon, which she declined, and i used my mommy jedi trick to convince her that a spinach and mozzarella cheese omelet would be delicious with real bacon.  i had some orange juice, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, swept and mopped the house, and made her bed before i was sent out for more wine and green tea.  Sir Raven mentioned going out to Old Navy and for burgers, but pointed out that she was having a nice day staying in and watching youtube and movies (at the same time).  So, i was ready with plan B, which was making turkey meatloaf for dinner.

The weather outside is sheer perfection and it was a joy to be running errands.  i wonder if she might be interested in a walk later, which i doubt, but will suggest anyhow.   Time to go chop up all of the veggies that i put in the meatloaf.  i am planning on working on a painting later.  Hopefully, i can stop having OCD thoughts about chocolate cupcakes and sex long enough to pain.  Heh.  If i finish the paining, i may photograph it.  Here is the Mandala coloring i finished yesterday 😀

 

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Building

Sir Raven has been putting in a lot of effort in the last two weeks in showing me her feelings.  And i’ve noticed.  She is building up my wardrobe in a way that hasn’t happened since i first moved here and she had me donate 99 percent of my clothes.  She is actively ignoring my usual concerns about saving the money for other things and telling me directly to order what i need.  Yesterday, i was really touched when she sent me a link to a new dress place, because she said she passes the store daily and thinks of me.

i always put myself last.  It’s nice that she is showing me that she isn’t.

Neither of us were expecting me to have to withdraw from school, which caused a financial hit.  She seriously just sent out the money for the little Florida trip that i had been expecting to pay for.  i really half expected her to tell me she’d pay what i had already promised but to stay here in New York to avoid other trip related expenses (eating out, cabs, whatever).  But she didn’t.  That says a lot to me, particularly that she isn’t make me feel like shit about the whole thing.

i’ve been working super hard, pushing myself this week.  i had to do a bunch of calls for school, and for some reason i’ve always struggled with making business type calls.  i got all of the heavy weekly chores done (washing walls, hauling laundry, a few grocery trips, etc).  The whole house is dusted, fresh sheets on the bed, some of the extra stuff is put up, and i have gathered a few items together for the trip.  It’s been busy.

Compliments of the primaries, and schools letting out half day for testing, the buses were a hot mess and i had to lug all of the heavy blankets and towels and her spiritual clothes up and down the stairs twice-because the buses were so damn full the doors couldn’t close.  Ugh.  But i got it all done.

Maybe as a result of two days back-to-back of heavier work, maybe for no damn reason at all, my back went out and i was in a shit ton of pain last night.  i couldn’t take more pain meds, and finally asked Sir Raven to help me.  She calmly asked what she could do.  i told her i just needed her right next to me, that i could cope if i could just feel her close.  She stayed next to me all night long, which was just huge in terms of filling me with trust.   It allowed me to get some much needed sleep.

i woke up early in pain, 6:30 this morning, to be exact.  i took some meds and rocked myself on my playpen til it started working and played the game Sir Raven installed on the new toy for me.  Bah.  i can’t remember what the thing is called.  Like an ipad but not made by apple.  Anyhow, it gave me a chance to get my chores done early.  By the time Sir Raven’s alarm went off at eight, i had the kitchen cleaned, bathroom cleaned, was cleaned up, hair fixed, and french press ready.  i brought it to her hot, along with her ice water, and put it wordlessly next to her head.   She groaned in reply, sleepily thanking me on her way to wash up.

i got all of the paperwork in today, along with a doctor’s note, that i just need to fax off tomorrow.  i was actually assertive and told them exactly what the note needed to say.  The doctor annoys me sometimes, because i had just given her the “i’m lucky i’m not more damaged from being born one pound, seven and a half ounces” speech but that i do have special needs on occasion, and have a harder time rebounding from being sick and the fibromyalgia.  i always feel compelled to say that i am lucky (because it’s true) and give thanks daily for what i can see and do (also true).  Then she said i just have to have a positive attitude.  For a split second, i fantasized about punching her, and then telling her that isn’t a big deal-she should just have a positive attitude.  It’s just so able-ist to tell someone who already has a damn good attitude and just finishing saying that how to feel about their own disabilities.  i mean, Jesus.  Don’t they have a sensitivity class for doctors?

i was supposed to meet up with friends at the Botanical Gardens so i went straight from the walk-in to the grocery.  i started a roast, mopped the house, and the gardens got cancelled.  So i spent the afternoon in bed, watching a series on Netflix called, “The Ascent of Woman” and reading my textbook so i don’t forget anything.  i have to keep studying so i am ready in a few weeks.  i spent time meditating, enjoying the perfect weather, and opening the bedroom window wide for the perfect cool breeze.  i’ve noticed that i’m feeling much happier the last couple of weeks, now that i’m not always sick or trying to figure out meds or in constant pain.  i wonder if the nuerontin wasn’t deadening my feelings because it was an enormous amount daily, now greatly reduced.  i’ve already told Sir Raven that i want this awesome dick for Christmas, which mimicks what i’m doing on her end.  Here is it: http://www.orgasmatronics.com/products/ambrosia-vibe-2

She said yes!!  Woot!  Can’t wait.  Can’t wait!!

Sir Raven turned on a Key and Peel sketch last night, a pirate one, that was running through my head all day.  “We don’t say bitch and we don’t say ho, cause that is direspectful, yo!”  Heh.  When Sir Raven came home, and she laughed about my doctor story, I asked if she knew why i didn’t punch the doctor.  “Because that would be disrespectful, yo?”  “Yep.” And we laughed.  We are so silly.  Thank God we laugh every daily, usually several times.

Somehow, my new dresses came in already.  The one is just okay, but the price was excellent.  The white one will be awesome for summer.  It’s so soft and cute.  Maybe it will be hot enough to wear it in Florida.  i hope Mickey Mouse remembers me!  i’m gonna be on the hunt for a new pink Pooh.  i can’t wait to swim.

But i’ve also settled back into our routine, and realize what a comfort it is to me.  i need the routine, the protocols, the consistency.  It makes me feel secure in our little bubble.  i’m aware of a low level anxiety of being away from Sir Raven for days next week, something she put there, consciously or not-i don’t know.  It’s strange, because i have tried to not be here, but my heart never leaves her.  Sir Raven has attached my sense of safety and belonging to her, my ability to be well to being here.

i hope this isn’t super choppy.  i was writing before Sir Raven got home, so i stopped to meditate and light candles and fix my hair.  Then i stopped again to serve wine and find out about her day.  Then she decided she didn’t want the roast and spanish rice i fixed.  She wanted bacon and eggs instead.  Somewhere in there i had a serious pain spike and took more medicine.  Cleaned the kitchen, checked more things off Wunderlist.  Heh.  Oh well.  i’m glad you guys are my friends and stick by me.  Thank you.

 

W is for…

Worthless? Whipped?

No. Withdraw.

I got my midterm scores back and under the advice of both professors, i spoke with Sir Raven, and she told me to withdraw.  Between four infections in six weeks and the meds change, i just couldn’t keep up.  Had i been undergrad, my professors likely would have just taken my late work with a light penalty.  Now they take it as some kind of fucked up indicator of how i’d do with clients.  To which i’d like to point out, i wouldn’t be trying to do trauma therapy sick as a dog or high on vicodin.  That is what sick days are for.  😛

i have to get medical documents in order and faxed off to avoid any issues with financial aid, which fortunately got held up and never disbursed to the school or to me.

i feel kind of shitty about it, like i somehow should have been able to pull A’s and do everything else i do without missing a beat.  Fibro makes my immune system less able to bounce back.  The med changes have affected my focus in ways i’m still trying to figure out.  Mentally, i know that i tried hard, fought hard.

Emotionally?  Long sigh.  i don’t know.

Hopefully, one of the things Sir Raven will focus on while i am on vacation with Karida is exactly how she will handle school moving forward.  It’s an area where she went from incredibly tight control (A’s) to no control (F’s).  It’s clearly an area where i need help, and i’ve been thinking a lot about why.  i think i get OCD on trying to write a perfect paper, or really understand the research, or read all of the text due….and have a hard time just getting something on paper.  When Sir Raven looked at grades, asked about grades, punished me for  turning things in late-i figured turning in something less than perfect was better than the strap.  My less than perfect results generally made A’s.

Of course, there is nothing Sir Raven can do when one of the major issues going on is that i’m legitimately sick.  If there was nothing she could have done, or i could have done better, then i have to just forgive myself and be ready for Summer courses that start in a few weeks.

The post yesterday was kind of fun, in that i chose pictures at random and posted them.  If i had pulled up a X rated flirt, i’d have taken it down.  The thoughts behind all of the pictures are the same, so it didn’t much matter which ones i pulled.   i should, i suppose, point out that some of the pics were taken before my hiatus to get my head together which is why i have a collar on in some and not in others.  When i wore it, i wore it 24/7.  It belongs to Sir Raven-it always will-and if she doesn’t think i’m worthy of it, then i’m not.  i don’t really feel much about it-hollow, maybe.  At first, when i realized that she was not going to return it i felt a bit offended because i know without a doubt that i’ve been the best slave i know how to be for her.  i know i’ve honored my commitments.  Then i decided that me knowing this, in every part of me, is enough.

Every four to six weeks, i have checked in with Sir Raven to ask her if she always felt loved, always felt adored, always felt respected, and always felt in control of our home environment (knowing what to expect at home).  She always said Yes, without reservation.

Those were the best indicators i could think of for how to understand her level of happiness with me, with us.  Several weeks ago, She told me that what she really cared about, besides those things, was if i admired her.  There is a difference between admiring her as a woman and admiring her as a Master, for me.  i’d need to be able to answer my questions to her with a Yes.  i always know that she loves me, but i don’t always feel loved.  i don’t feel adored.  i do feel that she respects me, respects the hard work i do for her, respects me as a slave.  i feel that she is in control, in a sense, in that we have established protocols and i follow them but i’m not sure that she would notice or do anything about it if i suddenly stopped following.  That scares me.  A lot.  Letting things fall through the cracks erodes any foundation over time.  i don’t feel that i know what to expect in terms of what she would enforce if suddenly all of the weight of our relationship moved from my shoulders and onto her own.  She has never felt the weight of all of her expectations because by and large, she simply told me what she liked that i was doing and i kept doing it.  Or she told me she wanted me to do something different and i did that.  i look for ways to please her daily, thank her for something daily, and express gratitude often.  In these ways, her job has been pretty easy.

 

When i come right out and ask for what i need, it doesn’t happen more often than not.  One of the things i knew i wanted in a mate was someone who needed s/m and sex more than i do, because i’m acutely aware that while i need these things-need force-i don’t always want it.  i can get very complacent, going about my daily and weekly routines and finding satisfaction and joy.  By the time i’m aware i’ve reached the need stage, the weight of everything becomes overwhelming, and anything that requires intense focus-like school or remembering new protocols-suffers.  i’ve tried meditation, reiki, yoga, more walking, more writing and all of these things help a great deal.  At the end of the day, though, i need her.  i can’t stop needing her.  It’s a part of the programming.  😀  Sir Raven may not always be happy with the ways the need comes out, but i imagine she is pleased that i still need her.

i need her touch, joy, pleasure, laughter, reminders, attention, discipline.  i need her.

i tried to extinguish it, the need, but it never really leaves-just changes form, ebbs and flows, like seasons, each too brief.

 

 

Enough

 Critical eyes-is she pretty enough? Quiet enough? Can you see if she is sick? Does this girl hide the pain well enough? Will the invitation be rejected?  Each photo scrutinized. Reimagined. I look at them like it’s another girl and wonder if I would love her and desire her. Then I send them, a flirt in the middle of her work day. Invitation.