When you turn down enough invitations and people find other friends to hang out with, it's your own dang fault if you find yourself feeling replaceable.
*cries* I just wanna say that I hate being pregnant, okay? And I'm never, ever going to go through this again!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
a year...and what have I learned?
Wednesday will mark exactly one year since I started this blog. Re-reading that first entry, I don't feel like I am any closer to learning complaisance. Not really. I still struggle with how to balance responsibility with service. I haven't found a comfortable name or a title that really fits. I've looked at many other BDSM, D/s and M/s relationships and found nothing that really reflects what Beloved and I have. I've found more questions, more heartache, more agony, more confusion...
*sigh*
Part of my agony has been about my collar. We are looking at a C-section, which will mean all jewelry has to come off...and the only way to take my collar off is to cut it. Maybe this is silly, but it's been keeping me wake.
Last night, cuddled on Beloved's chest, I asked him if it was okay if I were "just his devoted wife, lover, and friend and if it mattered that I haven't called you 'Master' in a long while"? He just ran his fingers through my hair and said that I'll always be his devoted wife, lover, and friend. I asked if it matttered then if the sting about my neck was cut, because it wasn't a collar...just a string. That the KEY was the important piece...
"My love, the key isn't important, either. It's just a symbol. You will always be key to my happiness."
Maybe that's the lesson reflected here. That the last year hasn't been about how brutal a beating I can take, or how humbled I can be, how kinky I can be, or how far into subspace someone can fling me... I'm not some label. I'm not an object or a slave or a servant. I'm not the sum of the chores I manage to accomplish or the comforts I offer.
The last year has not taught me complaisance at all. But maybe, just maybe, I am a little closer to accepting that I am loved and cherished simply for being me.
*sigh*
Part of my agony has been about my collar. We are looking at a C-section, which will mean all jewelry has to come off...and the only way to take my collar off is to cut it. Maybe this is silly, but it's been keeping me wake.
Last night, cuddled on Beloved's chest, I asked him if it was okay if I were "just his devoted wife, lover, and friend and if it mattered that I haven't called you 'Master' in a long while"? He just ran his fingers through my hair and said that I'll always be his devoted wife, lover, and friend. I asked if it matttered then if the sting about my neck was cut, because it wasn't a collar...just a string. That the KEY was the important piece...
"My love, the key isn't important, either. It's just a symbol. You will always be key to my happiness."
Maybe that's the lesson reflected here. That the last year hasn't been about how brutal a beating I can take, or how humbled I can be, how kinky I can be, or how far into subspace someone can fling me... I'm not some label. I'm not an object or a slave or a servant. I'm not the sum of the chores I manage to accomplish or the comforts I offer.
The last year has not taught me complaisance at all. But maybe, just maybe, I am a little closer to accepting that I am loved and cherished simply for being me.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Dear God, surround me as I speak,
the bridges that I walk across are weak
Frustrations fill the void that I can't solely bear
Dear God, don't let me fall apart,
you've held me close to you
I have turned away and searched for answers I can't understand
They say that I can move the mountains
And send them crashing to the sea
They say that I can walk on water
If I would follow and believe
with faith like a child
~ Jars of Clay, "Faith Like A Child"
Beloved is facing a promotion at work. Not a small promotion, either. We're talking VP here. This is serious WOW material. I am proud of him, but I'm not surprised by this possibility; he has proven himself over and over to the upper management that he has faith in the business model, is proactive in dealing with ideas and problems, and capable of representing the company at the national level.
Tonight, he is working up a proposal for how he would like to approach the division as well as what resources he needs/wants to accomplish specific goals.
After getting Boy set up with (another) Diego video, I made tea and sat at the end of the table. Yes, I was moping, but I was a little surprised when Beloved asked if I was resentful.
*shakes head* No, I'm not resentful. I'm care-worn and I'm tired. Besides the pregnancy stuff, Boy has been SICK for the last couple of days. I was forced to cancel my acupuncture appointment this week because of Boy being so sick. I haven't had a full night of sleep in a couple of weeks. I feel guilty because there have been offers of help, but they come in the form of "How can I help?"
I want to cry. I don't want to dictate or direct, I just want someone else to DO what needs doing. I feel like a ball of whining brattiness that is waiting for the excuse to explode, and I really really don't want fall down that path.
Instead, I'm hunkering down inside myself for protection, focusing on what I CAN control. I've gotten 13 loads of laundry washed in the last two days and Beloved helped me fold it last night. I scrubbed the kitchen and the floors today, and was rewarded with an impromptu WOW, the place looks great! when Beloved walked in. I got Boy's room picked up and I've sorted out another couple of book shelves.
This might be enough, if I didn't feel like there was an endless stream of people I need to answer to. There are some very specific people I have not gotten back to. I'll admit that at this point I'm partly hiding out of embarrassment because it's been too long, and I hope you can forgive my negligence.
This is a quiet weekend (believe it or not!) and NOTHING is scheduled. I'm hoping Boy will be 100% and won't be clinging to me or Beloved every waking moment. I'm hoping that a little bit of solitude and faith will restore me and I'll be back to being ME soon.
the bridges that I walk across are weak
Frustrations fill the void that I can't solely bear
Dear God, don't let me fall apart,
you've held me close to you
I have turned away and searched for answers I can't understand
They say that I can move the mountains
And send them crashing to the sea
They say that I can walk on water
If I would follow and believe
with faith like a child
~ Jars of Clay, "Faith Like A Child"
Beloved is facing a promotion at work. Not a small promotion, either. We're talking VP here. This is serious WOW material. I am proud of him, but I'm not surprised by this possibility; he has proven himself over and over to the upper management that he has faith in the business model, is proactive in dealing with ideas and problems, and capable of representing the company at the national level.
Tonight, he is working up a proposal for how he would like to approach the division as well as what resources he needs/wants to accomplish specific goals.
After getting Boy set up with (another) Diego video, I made tea and sat at the end of the table. Yes, I was moping, but I was a little surprised when Beloved asked if I was resentful.
*shakes head* No, I'm not resentful. I'm care-worn and I'm tired. Besides the pregnancy stuff, Boy has been SICK for the last couple of days. I was forced to cancel my acupuncture appointment this week because of Boy being so sick. I haven't had a full night of sleep in a couple of weeks. I feel guilty because there have been offers of help, but they come in the form of "How can I help?"
I want to cry. I don't want to dictate or direct, I just want someone else to DO what needs doing. I feel like a ball of whining brattiness that is waiting for the excuse to explode, and I really really don't want fall down that path.
Instead, I'm hunkering down inside myself for protection, focusing on what I CAN control. I've gotten 13 loads of laundry washed in the last two days and Beloved helped me fold it last night. I scrubbed the kitchen and the floors today, and was rewarded with an impromptu WOW, the place looks great! when Beloved walked in. I got Boy's room picked up and I've sorted out another couple of book shelves.
This might be enough, if I didn't feel like there was an endless stream of people I need to answer to. There are some very specific people I have not gotten back to. I'll admit that at this point I'm partly hiding out of embarrassment because it's been too long, and I hope you can forgive my negligence.
This is a quiet weekend (believe it or not!) and NOTHING is scheduled. I'm hoping Boy will be 100% and won't be clinging to me or Beloved every waking moment. I'm hoping that a little bit of solitude and faith will restore me and I'll be back to being ME soon.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Really dang cold!
It hit 31 degrees below zero in my home town on Thursday.
That's NEG-A-TIVE 31.
That's 63 degrees below freezing, 103 degrees below what some people consider a comfortable indoor temperature. This was a kind of cold that dug through five layers of clothes and settled in the bones for hours after you got home. It was the kind of cold we like to assure ourselves happens in much colder places, like Anchorage, where Thursday's high was 50.
The scary thing is that does not include the wind! According to the National Weather Service, the wind chill here got down to negative 51 degrees, recorded at 7 a.m. Friday.
And yet, Boy and I were out and about in the weather. I had a doctor's appointment I had rescheduled for Thursday because of snow on Wednesday. We ventured out again on Friday (which wasn't much better) to have lunch with Beloved and run some errands.
I know...insane. But that's part of the reason I have something to write about. *wink*
Life has been pretty...boring might be a good word. I'm slowly getting the hyperemesis under control thanks to a new ob/gynie doctor and weekly acupuncture and Zofran. I might even be "showing" a little bit! But there hasn't been much to talk about because I'm still utterly exhausted all the time.
*wry smile* Do you want to know how challenging I find pregnancy? I have 177 days to go. And yes, I'm counting!!!
That's NEG-A-TIVE 31.
That's 63 degrees below freezing, 103 degrees below what some people consider a comfortable indoor temperature. This was a kind of cold that dug through five layers of clothes and settled in the bones for hours after you got home. It was the kind of cold we like to assure ourselves happens in much colder places, like Anchorage, where Thursday's high was 50.
The scary thing is that does not include the wind! According to the National Weather Service, the wind chill here got down to negative 51 degrees, recorded at 7 a.m. Friday.
And yet, Boy and I were out and about in the weather. I had a doctor's appointment I had rescheduled for Thursday because of snow on Wednesday. We ventured out again on Friday (which wasn't much better) to have lunch with Beloved and run some errands.
I know...insane. But that's part of the reason I have something to write about. *wink*
Life has been pretty...boring might be a good word. I'm slowly getting the hyperemesis under control thanks to a new ob/gynie doctor and weekly acupuncture and Zofran. I might even be "showing" a little bit! But there hasn't been much to talk about because I'm still utterly exhausted all the time.
*wry smile* Do you want to know how challenging I find pregnancy? I have 177 days to go. And yes, I'm counting!!!
Friday, January 16, 2009
10 words
Mary Schmich wrote an opinion article in the Chicago Tribune about a challenge given by a British TV network: give a pithy 10-word summary of the eight-year tenure of the outgoing American president.
Most people have been in the "good riddance" camp. I thought about this while reading Bush's farewell speech. I feel sorry for him. Confused, misguided, determined, and stubborn, I don't think Bush deliberately tried to ruin this country. No, I don't approve of the job he did and I certainly don't agree with his decisions, but I do admire the man for having the courage to be President of the United States. Like being a stay-at-home mom, it's harder than it looks.
So how would I summarize President Bush's 8-year term in 10 words?
Trials and triumphs tested him; he stood to the end.
Most people have been in the "good riddance" camp. I thought about this while reading Bush's farewell speech. I feel sorry for him. Confused, misguided, determined, and stubborn, I don't think Bush deliberately tried to ruin this country. No, I don't approve of the job he did and I certainly don't agree with his decisions, but I do admire the man for having the courage to be President of the United States. Like being a stay-at-home mom, it's harder than it looks.
So how would I summarize President Bush's 8-year term in 10 words?
Trials and triumphs tested him; he stood to the end.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Who am I, really?
In the last four months, I've had four different men other than Beloved straight out and ask if I'd be interested in playing with them. I've also had three different women hint that they'd love to go exploring with me. The offers have varied, from pure service to hardcore bdsm, from poly-inclined to a pure scene.
I pursued one of the middling offers and while it was wonderful and fun and intense, my stupid hyperemesis got in the way...
I had a conversation today that brought up the question of my submission. (No, dearling, I didn't take it as an attack...but it does refresh the agony of the question.)
"I wonder about it sometimes. Specially your submission. I'm not sure you get real satisfaction from it. You're good at it, skilled. But I'm not sure you crackle in subspace like some people do."
pixie_mschf: "I found subspace once or twice..."
"Yes, but I don't think it's your place. I always feel like you were playing for me....which is different from submission."
So, where does that leave me? Am I not submissive? Can one be "skilled" in submission without being submissive? Am I merely a kink-friendly poly girl? What about the service aspect? Does the zoning out when I'm truly focused on SERVICE count as subspace? Does subspace really exist, or do all the subs who fall in and out of "subspace" just fake it they way I've been known fake a convincing orgasm?
I hate labels. Does it matter if I'm "bisexual" "queer" "heteroflexible" "pansexual" "fluctuating/evolving"? What about being a "submissive" "slave" "pet" "bottom"?
I've changed my "role" to "Not Applicable". You wanna know why? Because it doesn't fricken matter.
I am ME...I am Pixie Mischief. I am in a wonderful and evolving relationship with the rest of the world, and for better or for worse, no label is going to change that.
I pursued one of the middling offers and while it was wonderful and fun and intense, my stupid hyperemesis got in the way...
I had a conversation today that brought up the question of my submission. (No, dearling, I didn't take it as an attack...but it does refresh the agony of the question.)
"I wonder about it sometimes. Specially your submission. I'm not sure you get real satisfaction from it. You're good at it, skilled. But I'm not sure you crackle in subspace like some people do."
pixie_mschf: "I found subspace once or twice..."
"Yes, but I don't think it's your place. I always feel like you were playing for me....which is different from submission."
So, where does that leave me? Am I not submissive? Can one be "skilled" in submission without being submissive? Am I merely a kink-friendly poly girl? What about the service aspect? Does the zoning out when I'm truly focused on SERVICE count as subspace? Does subspace really exist, or do all the subs who fall in and out of "subspace" just fake it they way I've been known fake a convincing orgasm?
I hate labels. Does it matter if I'm "bisexual" "queer" "heteroflexible" "pansexual" "fluctuating/evolving"? What about being a "submissive" "slave" "pet" "bottom"?
I've changed my "role" to "Not Applicable". You wanna know why? Because it doesn't fricken matter.
I am ME...I am Pixie Mischief. I am in a wonderful and evolving relationship with the rest of the world, and for better or for worse, no label is going to change that.
Friday, December 26, 2008
wishing for some magic.
I'm reaching that point where I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired for no "apparent" reason. Yes, I know I'm pregnant, but there is NOTHING redeeming about the situation. No flutters from the baby (who is about the size of a grape right now). No growing belly. No inner glow.
Instead I have dark circles under my eyes, use makeup to cover my pallor, wear 4-5 layers of clothes against a constant chill, and am on my knees before a toilet a few times every day. Today, Beloved did 90% of our "goals list" for the day, and I just feel like a louse.
Much to my chagrin, everyone is so accepting and understanding. Hell, they even make excuses for me to use! Beloved gently told me that if he had to carry Boy around all day, he couldn't get stuff done...why do I try to pretend that I'm any different?
It makes me want to weep...mostly because I am so grateful and needy, and I hate being in this position! I'm the service submissive! I should be the one serving! I want to pretend there's nothing holding me back...that I'm not pregnant...because right now, this really really f-ing SUCKS.
Instead I have dark circles under my eyes, use makeup to cover my pallor, wear 4-5 layers of clothes against a constant chill, and am on my knees before a toilet a few times every day. Today, Beloved did 90% of our "goals list" for the day, and I just feel like a louse.
Much to my chagrin, everyone is so accepting and understanding. Hell, they even make excuses for me to use! Beloved gently told me that if he had to carry Boy around all day, he couldn't get stuff done...why do I try to pretend that I'm any different?
It makes me want to weep...mostly because I am so grateful and needy, and I hate being in this position! I'm the service submissive! I should be the one serving! I want to pretend there's nothing holding me back...that I'm not pregnant...because right now, this really really f-ing SUCKS.
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