"old" history

Several readers mentioned anti-depressants in the comments about my "stupid games" post. I suppose I have some old history to offer, if only to put those minds at rest.

In April 2007, I was officially diagnosed with postpartum depression. I've suffered mild bipolar for most of my life, but with the responsibility of a child, I finally got my act together and sought help. There was a nightmare mental health run-in with the hospital (yes, another online name is Katt), and that *just* got cleared up this month (I hope!), but the cliffnotes is that I started on zoloft and got some counseling and things were much improved.

The last time I was in the office, the MD didn't want to renew the prescription. I had another two months left, so I didn't worry too much about it, but I figured I'd just stop...that was pretty much what he was having me do, anyway, right? *hangs head* I know...I know. Beloved's already chastised me and I am back on the pills. I'm also scheduling an appointment to talk to the doctor...let him know that I just kinda crash and burn without the little blue pills.

Damn, but it hurts to admit that! Beloved patiently (but firmly) told me that it's not my FAULT...there is a chemical imbalance in my head and the little blues are "vitamins for my soul". *soft smile* He's wonderful. It still sucks, but at least he helps me see the light in darkness.

We still haven't broached the topic of my collar, though...

"I don't wanna play stupid games!"

CONSIDER THIS YOUR WARNING....ALL ABOUT MENSTRATION AND RESULTING "PROBLEMS" AND BRATTY BEHAVIOR


I was sixteen when I went on birth control pills. I loved them. I did all kinds of "bad" things with them...I'd "move" my period so that I didn't have to worry about it the week that we were in Yellowstone or so I didn't need to carry anything with me to Australia. I adored the total lack of surprise, zero cramps, and limited hormone rages. Life got even better with Deprovera...NO PERIODS! wOOt! I gave it up for Seasonale...a quarterly cycle...because of the weight-gain Depo is associated with. bummer, but I still had a pretty good thing going.

Beloved and I decided to try to get pregnant, so I dropped off the pills, had ONE cycle, and caught. Whhheeee...about 17 months of no moons! Sure I was dealing with OTHER feminine issues related to childbearing, but no menstruation.

*sigh* About a year ago, my body went back to it's normal, natural womanly cycle. It's been awful. First time in my LIFE I've had cramps that creep into my back and down my legs. First time in my life I've worried about how heavy my flow is. First time in more than 15 years that I have been unable to control my cycle. and I HATE it.

I'd go on pills except that 1) my MD won't prescribe them while I'm nursing, 2) I am probably going to have another child in the next four years and want to do anything and everything to avoid the hyperemesis again. That means no hormones, no pills, no patches, no IUDs, no anything that affects my body chemistry.

Guess who fell slave to hormones yesterday?

uh-huh. Yours truly.

Beloved was amazing, wonderful, awesome...he got up with Boy and let me sleep in. He agreed to run errands with me. He smiled at me and appealed to logic when I was weepy. He complimented me on the upswings. (Mind, all of this is before noon!) We got home, and Boy had fallen asleep in the car. The beginning of the end since it meant no nap that afternoon. We got our purchases inside, and I started trying to address the endless list of things that needed doing...pick up the house, clean, sort Boy's toys and price what we were getting rid of, get the meat roasting for Beloved's gathering on Sunday, laundry, bills, on and on and on.

Beloved was helping me package crib bedding into a tight plastic zippered bag, and we finally managed to get it closed. Beloved drummed on it, and the zipper split. He tried to unzip it to fix the split, and the zipper piece came off one of the tracks. I threw my hands up and walked, grumbling. I sat down at my computer to start listing things, and Beloved said he needed a binder clip to fix it, which meant he was asking me to run upstairs to get one to fix my bag...

and I lost it.

I stomped upstairs, got the clip, stormed downstairs, and slammed it on the table before muttering over my shoulder that I was *trying* to get things done...Beloved muttered something about my needing to chill out...

Please understand that we don't fight. We disagree sometimes, but fights are really rare. Can you see where this is going? yeah....

Beloved got the zipper fixed and wanted to show me...and I exploded. I knew...KNEW...I was going to far, but I couldn't stop. Just at that moment, Boy slowly, deliberately turned his glass of water sideways to create an arc of water on the rug. I yelled.

Beloved seized my collar and dragged me upstairs, yanked out one of my cuffs and chained me to the bed.

"I will be back for you in an hour."

I screamed bloody murder. It was like I was a four year old child and I tantrumed like a champion. I threw the pills across the room, shoved the blankets off the bed, slammed my hard covered book on the floor. Beloved turned on some music downstairs and set to work, entertaining Boy as well as doing everything he could to help around the house.

I could hear the progress, and anger and shame welled inside. How does he manage to get stuff done with the Boy awake? Why am I so undisciplined? Am I such a worthless pet that he would rather forget me upstairs than ask me to work? Why, why, why am I no good at anything????

But instead of relenting, submitting, my anger spiraled and stewed for the TWO hours I lay in bed. Not good. I managed to snag the corner of my blanket and pulled it up over my head. When Beloved came in, I didn't move. He reached under the blanket and uncuffed me, the chain slipping to the floor. There was no way I was asleep...

He sat down on the bed, a hand gently resting on my hip. "Come on, love...it's time to let it go. Get up, get dressed. We need to leave for supper."

"I'm not going...just take Boy and go."

He got angry. At last. He flipped the blanket off of me, and I couldn't help but smirk. It was so stupid, so childish. (why, why am I doing this???) He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up. "You are going to get up now, put on a skirt, and get ready to go."

"No, I'm NOT! I'm NOT going! I'm just a worthless pet to chain to the bed. LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't want to play stupid games anymore!"

Beloved spun around, went to the closet, selected a skirt. He then put it on the bed in front of me, picked up some clothes for himself. "I am not going to tell you again...I am going to change Boy, change myself, and when I come back you WILL be ready to go or I WILL beat you."

"You wouldn't DARE...not in front of Boy!" It came out snidely.

"Don't test me on that!"

I didn't have the guts to test him on that...but I put the skirt on sloppily, didn't brush my hair, didn't find my glasses. I stomped downstairs, obviously not ready to go...If he was going to make me go, I was going to make it as miserable for him as possible (damn it, girl, all you are doing is embarrassing yourself! stop it!). I put on my coat, climbed into the back seat, reeking of sulk.

"Stop it," Beloved growled. "Talk to me."

"Right, as if were in a mindset to even LISTEN..."

"Get out of the car."

I threw the door open, thinking I'd gotten away with it. Beloved grabbed my collar and unlocked it, pulling from my neck. "I don't care what you do. Here's your freedom. Boy and I are going to dinner."

"FINE. You weren't going to LISTEN to me anyway!" I stormed back to the house, slammed the door, went straight up to the bedroom, dropping my skirt on the floor, stripped the restraints from under the bed, threw all the toys in the toybox, zipped it up. By the time he got home, there would be NOTHING left of our M/s relationship. NEVER EVER AGAIN. I HATED HIM.

I heard the door beep...Beloved brought Boy in and set him up with a video. He came upstairs, and I could hear the deep sigh before he came in the room, sat down, and looked up at me. Calmly.

"Talk to me..."

and I broke. I cried and cried and berated myself and hated myself and felt so low. The apologies tumbled from my lips. All I'd wanted since the night before was to be cuddled and loved despite my period... I hate being so out of control. Please, please....I'm sorry....

He pet my hair, shaking his head, striving to keep his calm, embracing the Master inside. If he had been angry, I might have had something to beat against, but my Beloved Master yielded, and I collapsed.
I found myself at his feet, in tears.

Boy found his way upstairs, and I tried to cover my tears, as if the child wouldn't know any better. Why are grownups so silly? I hugged him, hugged Master leg, and gathered myself. I washed my face, brushed my hair, pulled on my jeans. I was shaking inside, exhausted, but I tried to make myself presentable. In a few minutes, we were back to the car, ready to go...

We made it through supper...we took his mother out for her birthday...got home, put Boy to bed, and then sat on the couch in the dark. I was personally grateful for EarthHour...I didn't want to face him. The only thing he asked me about was the smirk. Why had I smiled? What was going on in my head?

I cried again, apologizing. I knew all of it was...childish, stupid...but I couldn't stop myself. But there was no spanking, no punishment for my acting out. Maybe there should have been, but that would have fed the martyr. Beloved simply cuddled me, loved me...made me feel guilty and immature and unworthy of Him. At the end of EarthHour, we watch "Behind the Green Door" (my first time) and Beloved teased me lightly about being embarrassed...that was at least three-quarters the purpose of the movie...

He was obviously excited, and when we went upstairs, we made love. Long, slow, sensual...

Now, 24 hours from the beginning of my tantrum, I'm not sure what to do. Beloved has dropped it, forgotten, forgiven. I know...deep down, I know...that all I have to do is ask for the collar again, and Beloved Master will welcome me back. The weight I carry is purely self-created. I'm scared of my collar. I'm not worthy of my collar. How can I ever ask for anything again?

Join me for EarthHour

You know you want to...all the cool kids are doing it!

*grin*

Seriously, EarthHour is a statement about climate change. All you have to do is turn off your lights for one Earth Hour, from 8:00 - 9:00 pm. If you want to do more, sign up and pledge your support. Join millions of people, businesses, governments and civic organizations in nearly 200 cities around the globe for this important global community event.

So my moon started...

My woman's time...my period. *sigh* I can't explain why this basic bodily function is so uncomfortable to me, it just IS. Not in the crampy, hormonal unconfortable...I mean in the mental, "oh, god, just let me hide this week" uncomfortable. I would be perfectly happy if I were allowed to pitch a crimson tent once a month. Minus the shunning, of course.

Beloved remarked on the fact last night because I laid a towel on the bed, as I usually do, in case he wanted me...TMI, surely, but it's the only time "safe" enough to go without the dreaded condom. This morning, I tried to make an excuse, but he stopped me.

"It doesn't bother me, kitten. Hell, I've gone down on you while you had your moon. It's just a natural part of you. It would be kind of like you being upset about my having testicles. That you are so embarrassed by it...it's just...sad."

The truth is I have to fight with myself every moon when Beloved wants me. I'm so embarrassed I try to make sure the lights are off. I scurry to get warm washclothes to clean up immediately so he doesn't have to deal...better yet if we can have sex in the shower with the lights off! Beloved confronts me with oral, I think in part to prove that it doesn't bother him...nevermind him...it's ME who is bothered.

I don't know where the hang-up came from...my sister has a similar issue...but I know it didn't come from my mom...she was always very upfront about bodily functions and medical/clinical stuff. I love the keeper I use and brag about not adding to the strain on the earth every month. *shrug* I don't KNOW. If I wasn't so sure that the Depo and Seasonale contributed to the hyperemesis problems I had while pregnant, I'd jump on whatever birth control promised to make it go away. I'm just shy shy shy about it.

heh. Like you'll believe that after my writing this. Or combining this post with the one on body images. You're thinking, Uh-huh...shy. Riiiigghhht. *sigh*

"Don't forget your pie!"

The rare appearance of rhubarb happened at the grocery store, and combined with the Easter "buy 1-get 1" on strawberries, it was obvious I had to make a pie. It's one of Beloved's favorites. So, last night, I made up the concoction, filled the crust, latticed the top, and baked. Very little overflow, which was promising... I let it sit overnight to make sure it wasn't too runny though. When I came up to bed, Beloved murmmured that the baked crust made him want chicken pot pie. I guess I'll be making one of those soon, too...

Anyway, I cut out two pieces this morning and packed them in a tupper for him to enjoy at work. As he was getting packed up to leave, I called out, "Don't forget your pie!" He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? Are you OFFERING me pie?"

I think I turned pink and stammered that Boy was in the room. Beloved shrugged.

"Then you will just have to go to another room, won't you?"

"Yes, Master..."

I went to the kitchen and dropped my drawers, leaned against the counter, and wished I'd gotten a shower this morning...but we'd all over-slept... Perhaps it is hard to believe, but this is really something I have to submit to. I am learning to appreciate receiving oral sex, but I really first enjoyed it when pregnant. It's just another hang-up I have, I guess.

Beloved knelt before me and flicked the tip of his tongue over and around my clit for a minute or so. His fingers brushed my labia, testing but not insistent. I clutched the counter, pressing my hips forward, fighting between moaning and worrying that Boy would come to investigate...

Then Beloved withdrew, grinning at me. I turned crimson and shyly pulled up my jammies just as Boy rounded the corner looking for us.

"Mmmmm....sometimes I'm impressed with how tight you can be, my love. But, you do have one tasty pie, my pet!"

I hope he likes the strawberry-rhubarb, too...

Routines

I had a rare chance to actually drop in on the morning routines of my sister-in-law and another couple when I drove Beloved to the airport at an unreasonable 4:30 am hour. When Beloved came home, I mentioned that I generally like our morning routine.

"Oh? And what is our routine?"

huh. Well, the alarm goes off at 7 am, or Boy starts singing to himself and wakes us over the monitor. Beloved spoils me rotten and often lets me grab an extra twenty minutes of rest in the morning while he plays with Boy. He then brings Boy in to nurse, gathers his clothes and heads for the shower. By the time Beloved is done, so is Boy...and we all head downstairs. Beloved will check in with work or put together cereal or I'll make oatmeal or start water for tea. Boy usually manages to turn on the television for Backyadigans, and we eat a quick breakfast before Beloved shoots off for work...

Or some variation of that.

I like it. There is some family time mixed in there, and most of the things that need doing get accomplished (although you might have noticed I don't usually get a morning shower or a chance to get dressed before Beloved leaves. I *could* if I gave up my 20 minutes....Choices, choices...)

Our evening routine is kinda similar. Beloved gets home about 6 pm and because our backdoor has a security system and goes "Beep, beep beep" upon opening, Boy usually comes charging around the corner, hands spread, asking "hizit?" (His way of saying "Who is it? or Where is it?") I've (hopefully) gotten dinner prepped, and Beloved distracts Boy, takes him outside or just plays, while I finish getting the meal served. We eat dinner, then Beloved and Boy play while I clean up... About 7:30 or so, I'll ask Boy about a bath... "Bah-t!" and he'll look up at Beloved, pucker his lips for a kiss, wave nigh-night and run to the stairs. We change and bath...Beloved often comes up with a bottle and gets Boy out of the bath and into jammies. I jump into my jammies and sit in the rocker as Beloved takes Boy over to the CD player to push play, says nigh-night to the lights, and then settles Boy in my arms to nurse. Kissing us both, he disappears...I nurse for 20-30 minutes and then settle Boy in the crib with the bottle, slipping downstairs.

Depending on the day, usually, I'll start tea water and kneel or sit at Beloved's feet. Beloved might ask me for something in particular, but if nothing is asked of me, I pop on to the laptop, catch up on chat, email, blog, etc.... About 10 or 11 pm, we head to bed.

Or some version of that.

*sigh* Writing it out, we sound like parental old farts, don't we? Oh well....

But beyond those routines, there really isn't anything "routine" about our relationship. In the last couple of months, I have read a lot of other submissive/slave blogs, journals, contracts... I wonder if I'm spoiled, privileged, or at a disadvantage because we don't have a M/s routine or a set contract.

Do we need something more beyond that basic agreement? Do we need a routine to be considered a M/s couple?

We have both looked at actual written contracts, and I think we have both found them to be lacking when applied to our lifestyle. We've TRIED. For a couple of weeks, Beloved was scheduling my day. It was a ruddy awful experiment. Beloved quickly became disillusioned with the monotony of household work; I grew frustrated because Boy wasn't always accomodating to Mommy's locking him out of the bathroom so I could clean it without him shaking cleanser everywhere or trying to get into the chemicals... EVERYONE was stressed out and anxious. So, we abandoned the trial.

The fact is our lives aren't on a clockwork schedule. Beloved doesn't always know WHEN he will be home...even if I ask at 4 pm if he'll be home by 6. His job doesn't work that way. Anyone who has been a parent can tell you that while routines are very helpful, it's the child who really dictates the day-to-day plans.

Beloved expresses his preferences...and I do my best to accommodate those preferences.

He likes me to wear floaty skirts, for example, but doesn't pick out my clothes. The couple of times I've ASKED Master about what I should wear, he tells me to give him outfit choices. He has been very amused and pleased the couple of times I've met him at the door on my knees, but has never said I must do so. He inquires about the daily plans for Boy and me, occasionally asking I attend to some task or chore, but he doesn't give me a "stamp of approval" for which playdates I choose to make or what mundane household chores I set myself to.

All of this makes me think about the the story on life's priorities . Presently, the rocks are family, work, friends. The pebbles are our groups (drum circle, OLI, poly group, game nights, DIY home improvements, etc.) The sand is the M/s. It's not the LEAST important or the small stuff...it's important. It slips between and around everything in our lives, filling the gaps, completing and polishing other aspects in our lives.

I just don't know how that can be written into a routine, do you?


*sigh* and please, for the love of Pete, don't take this as a criticism if you DO have a life that fits into a routine. Some days, I wish that would work for us! It just doesn't, so we have found what works for US.

WANNA GOOOOO...!

You know the adage, "Be careful what you wish for"? That is something I'm just slow to learn, I guess. On Saturday, I wrote and shared a new spanking story with Beloved (see comment).

Was I actually asking for something? um, yeah, probably. After reading it, Beloved gave me a choice...bring down the toybag, in which case he'd make me cry, or bring down his book, in which case we would curl up on the couch, snuggle, and have a quiet afternoon. In neither case was I going to get the things *I* wanted to accomplish done...cleaning, grocery shop, general household monotony. I agonized over the choice, I really did...but when I came back down the stairs, it was with the toybag. Surprise, surprise....

I knelt, facing away, as Beloved set up the scene. That was torment. And when he blindfolded me, cuffed me, and led me to the table, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask "Why...what have I done to deserve this?" I asked for it. I wanted it. It wasn't a punishment...it was a reward! *deep breath* Someday, maybe I'll get it. *rolls eyes* "Be careful what you wish for."

Beloved chained me bent over the pool table and spanked me hard, fast, good. If I were to guess, it was maybe a 20 minute scene, but stretched over the table, blindfolded, and having my ass thrashed, it seemed to last forever. He took me right to the edge, where my safeword was dancing in my head and I was begging, screaming him to stop, snot-faced and teary-eyed. My tears brought words of praise. My pleading that I could not take any more, Beloved softly reassured me that I could....would. That he was proud of me. That I was going a good job. At the end, I was actually terrified of the warm oil from the body candle...that is how raw I felt...but of course, I was restrained and had no real say in the matter...and after the initial HOT, it was soothing and wonderful and I loved it...

The next morning, I sported two small welts and a light bruise, but nothing worse than that. And two days later, I really feel nothing at all. In fact, when I checked my e-mail, I found something that forced me to write, because you'd think I'd learned to "be careful what you wish for."

But no. I wanna go to the Spank Festival in Wisconsin in June. The simple fact that I have friends among those presenting is just too cool. The idea of going camping? Oh yeah! A weekend of BDSM play? *mumbles something unintelligible*

"Be careful what you wish for."