The best thing about my busted up back, fibromyalgia, and retinopathy is that it won’t kill me.
It’s also the worst thing.
As in, there is no end point.
My meds got fucked up again (thanks, Express Script) and i was without normal doses of nuerontin for many days, which i primarily spent in a ball, praying and weeping. My bones hurt. Everywhere my body has been fractured hurt. i strongly suspect i had a seizure at some point. And i was very angry.
i also managed to quit smoking mainly for a couple of weeks. A wagon i fell off of yesterday. i try and remind myself that recovery from any kind of addiction includes learning how to handle relapse and get back on the horse. i’m not sure i have the capacity to care right now. i don’t know. i was feeling really good about it, the quitting, and that i just did it by myself. No patches, no support. Just me.
Beyond that, it’s been a hell of a lot of work to keep up A’s in both classes. i’ve managed-barely. i’m closing in on the last two weeks now and am trying to just breathe and do one thing at a time. There are moments where it all seems pointless. The education. The work to get my Masters. The fear of losing disability payments and not being sure how it will play out.
Everything feels a bit fatalistic right now.
i’m not spending enough time on myself, not getting downtime or things to look forward to set in stone.
i had hung on for the last five months thinking that January would bring new experiences, new pleasures, fresh air to breathe, time with S. Life took a massively different turn, for a lot of good reasons that are worth celebrating. They just don’t seem to include me in a set in stone way.
S has known me for sixteen years, though we have had contact for about seven, off and on. That is a lot of time. She has actually spoken to my mother, and Dawn, and my brother, and knows they are real people. She knows my demons, all of them, and loved me anyhow. That was a very powerful thought. Just having someone who knows me as a mother is a huge comfort, because that part of my life is over and there is no one else who knows that part of me. The very best part of me.
Sir Raven and i reached some kind of understanding about this months ago, when i finally said Enough. i made it plain that my needs have never been met, that they aren’t going anywhere, and that i am ready to go outside of our relationship to get what i need. On the surface, nothing really changed. i keep the same rules, still do most everything, still try and be the best version of myself for her. Underneath though, for me to assert myself that way, i had to let go to any attachment to the outcome for her. That means that i had to reach a place where i didn’t care if it hurt her male pride. That is frankly a very dangerous place to push a loyal person to.
The upside is letting go of attachment seems to have given her more of what she wanted all along. Now if she says she doesn’t want me to get something for her, i don’t, and i also don’t give a single fuck when she has a pissy fit about it. i don’t care if she wants to fix herself breakfast and leave the mess for me. i don’t care in a lot of ways. i’m not sure how healthy that is for me. i do see how the end result is something that is better, because i don’t fret over every nuance of her moodiness. i finally get that her moodiness is about her and if she wants to spend her life like that oh well. i draw the line when she becomes a moody surly nasty teen in her attitude, and i have to figure out something there, because i start to hear my mother’s shrill voice in my head spitting out the words, “I’m going to knock your teeth down your throat. You disgust me.” i recognize that, as a woman who has parented teens, i was not prepared to let them take out their moody shit onto me. Go chill somewhere. Talk. But that one word response, eye rolling, disgust for me, thing? No. hell no. And since i did not stand for it as a parent, i don’t intend to when i’m in the parental role with SR.
First of all, i never intended to be her parent. That is how its played out though, because she abdicated responsibility of her jobs. And if i’m doing all of the work in the relationship, i’m going to feel like the mom. As a mother, i expect a certain level of respect and cooperation. i have absolutely no idea how to navigate this with her. All i know is i feel like she doesn’t man-up, won’t take responsibility, won’t follow through, and castrated herself. So its hard to look at her like a man.
The things that she does do, like work, are the bare bones of what i would expect in any relationship i’d be in. Period. It isn’t a Masterly duty to work. It’s being an adult. She would have to do the same work if i was here or not. So that speaks to the fact that its not the job of her as a Master at all, for me.
When we have recently tried to talk to each other, she admits that she shut down a lot. Again, that is on her. A Masters responsibility, to me, is on par with the level of responsibility i had when i taught special education and behavior modification. If the kid didn’t manage the routine correctly, the error was almost always mine. Either i had failed to understand what the underlying problem was, failed to provide a meaningful consequence for that kid, or failed to be consistent. It is exactly the same thing with a slave. Shutting down is a luxury that a Master does not have if they want to earn respect. i’m not putting her failures onto me anymore. Like a child, i want to please. So if i don’t understand what is needed or wanted, its not on me.
You can’t disengage from a child, abuse them, criticize them, ignore them, and then expect obedience and joy. If you get those things even part time, that is a glorious kid. Ditto for a slave. Hell, even a dog can’t function like that. Eventually, they will turn on you and bite you. When that happens, you can’t blame the dog.
Inside, what i feel like is a puppy who has been kicked one too many times. A puppy who will lick any hand that comes near me without being another thing that pains me. That puts me in a really wide open spot. A vulnerable spot. One that i can’t get out of.
I didn’t get here alone. i can’t get out of it alone. i don’t even know what i want besides feeling safe and a sense of balance in life. i’m bone tired, soul tired, running on empty, and feeling sucked dry. The sense of hope i held on to is diminishing by the minute. The only way i can manage is to hit that button inside that lets me not care what is going on, just like i did as a child. i didn’t care what was being done to me, taken from me, what little joy got snatched away at the last moment.