Let's talk a little bit more about that job. First off given the nature of the job and the nature of this blog, I'm going to be a little vague about the job so as not to spook the potential employers should they accidentally happen across a description of their job posting here. That's not to say that I'm actively presenting a polished puritan persona either. (My resume lists my volunteer work without shady acronyms.)
What I feel like chatting about though is the slow and steady way the idea of actually moving south and doing this job keeps wheedling its way into my brain. I had a friend/mentor remind me that the choice to take the job is not in fact a lifetime commitment. She took a job up in the Alaskan bush once holding to the philosophy that she could do anything for a single school year. This little bit of wisdom was precisely the growing condition my seed of a wish needed to grow into a full-blown desire.
That desire requires a lot of creative thinking though. This is where the scene from Princess Bride where Inigo rattles off a litany of obstacles to the recently mostly-dead Wesley pops vividly to mind. Rather than storming a castle though I'm looking at returning to an abandoned passion and moving 800 miles away from my family. The Inigo in my head sounds a little like this "I'll say. First, how do we get the job. Then once we get the job, how do we plan the exit strategy for the current job, and how do we afford to live in the new city, and how do we prepare to enjoy life without seeing family every night of the week, and how do we find the right place to live, and how do we decide how much to take with, and how do we avoid/productively deal with the challenges that made us abandon the passion in the first place, and how do we reassure family that everything will be just right and..." Eventually Fessig breaks in reminding us that we haven't even heard back about the cover letter yet.
Sigh...
Showing posts with label worrying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worrying. Show all posts
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Truth in Advertising
Hi folks,
For the last several days my thoracic spine has been really painful--like keeping me up at night, the perscription drugs from last fall are looking really appealing kind of painful. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of something, anything, I've done lately that might be causing it and I'm coming up blank.
Over the course of the last two days I've started seriously regretting having this surgery done at all. It's a horrible feeling to think that I went through all that shit of the last year and came out on the other side being in pain more often than I ever was before.
Max convinced me to call the surgeon's office tonight and hopefully get a quickie appointment for tomorrow. I'm hoping that a little physical therapy and body retraining will be all that's required, but this is a pretty dramatic change from a month ago so I'm kind of nervous about what might be revealed.
More Tylenol, ice-packs, and trying to get to sleep for me now.
For the last several days my thoracic spine has been really painful--like keeping me up at night, the perscription drugs from last fall are looking really appealing kind of painful. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of something, anything, I've done lately that might be causing it and I'm coming up blank.
Over the course of the last two days I've started seriously regretting having this surgery done at all. It's a horrible feeling to think that I went through all that shit of the last year and came out on the other side being in pain more often than I ever was before.
Max convinced me to call the surgeon's office tonight and hopefully get a quickie appointment for tomorrow. I'm hoping that a little physical therapy and body retraining will be all that's required, but this is a pretty dramatic change from a month ago so I'm kind of nervous about what might be revealed.
More Tylenol, ice-packs, and trying to get to sleep for me now.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Anti-Worry
Here's my plan:
Questions:
Will I be able to walk on stripper heals? Will the way my body moves still illicit tips? Will I fit into the costume we already purchased? Will I be able to attend without being unreasonably exhausted? (Will I ever post about anything completely unrelated to the surgery?)
Answers:
I wasn't walking in stripper heals yet. We did get plenty of tips. Had to adjust the straps a little, but I fit just fine. Made it through the event just fine energy wise.
Posted in May 08:
Question:
Do I really need this surgery or am I just seeking attention?
Answer:
3 of 3 surgeons agreed that the surgery was necessary. I may have also been seeking attention, but I'm too damned self-aware to let that kind of behavior get very far beyond reality.
Question:
Will my partners be so afraid of hurting me that they forget how to have passionate sex with me?
Answer:
Briefly, but that's probably for the best initially. Being aware of the potential for this problem made all the difference in the world when it came up. Lots of reality checks and constant recalibration of our abilities have kept the good things going and getting better all the time.
Posted in July 08:
Question:
Do I have enough time to do all the things I want to do before surgery? Am I ready for this change?
Answer:
In this post, I noted that August was invisible. Actually, it was September that disappeared. I skipped several fun things that month because I was just too darn anxious. I was ready though, and if I'd known how quickly some of these fun things would come back to me I would have been a lot less anxious.
Posted in August 08:
Questions:
What if I never get to do this again after surgery? Am I ok with my massage therapist seeing the impending marks? What will our relationship look like during my recovery? How do I get the absolute most out of my body right now without risking surgery-delaying damage? Why won't my mind let go so I can just be here now and process this?
Answers:
I'll do something else that's even more fun. Yes, of course I'm ok with my massage therapist seeing marks--closets are for clothes not skeletons. The relationship question merits a whole post full of gratitude unto itself. Let go into the sensations and be alert for "bad pain." Rhetorical questions like that one are the major culprits in the assault on my concentration.
Posted just before surgery: (answers in italics)
Questions:
Am I good enough? Did I break something?
Answers:
Yes. No.
- Re-read every post tagged with worrying and/or questions.
- List the concerns from each post
- Record what really happened
- Share it with all of you (Though, it's been so long since I've updated there might not be any readers left, but oh well)
Questions:
Will I be able to walk on stripper heals? Will the way my body moves still illicit tips? Will I fit into the costume we already purchased? Will I be able to attend without being unreasonably exhausted? (Will I ever post about anything completely unrelated to the surgery?)
Answers:
I wasn't walking in stripper heals yet. We did get plenty of tips. Had to adjust the straps a little, but I fit just fine. Made it through the event just fine energy wise.
Posted in May 08:
Question:
Do I really need this surgery or am I just seeking attention?
Answer:
3 of 3 surgeons agreed that the surgery was necessary. I may have also been seeking attention, but I'm too damned self-aware to let that kind of behavior get very far beyond reality.
Question:
Will my partners be so afraid of hurting me that they forget how to have passionate sex with me?
Answer:
Briefly, but that's probably for the best initially. Being aware of the potential for this problem made all the difference in the world when it came up. Lots of reality checks and constant recalibration of our abilities have kept the good things going and getting better all the time.
Posted in July 08:
Question:
Do I have enough time to do all the things I want to do before surgery? Am I ready for this change?
Answer:
In this post, I noted that August was invisible. Actually, it was September that disappeared. I skipped several fun things that month because I was just too darn anxious. I was ready though, and if I'd known how quickly some of these fun things would come back to me I would have been a lot less anxious.
Posted in August 08:
Questions:
What if I never get to do this again after surgery? Am I ok with my massage therapist seeing the impending marks? What will our relationship look like during my recovery? How do I get the absolute most out of my body right now without risking surgery-delaying damage? Why won't my mind let go so I can just be here now and process this?
Answers:
I'll do something else that's even more fun. Yes, of course I'm ok with my massage therapist seeing marks--closets are for clothes not skeletons. The relationship question merits a whole post full of gratitude unto itself. Let go into the sensations and be alert for "bad pain." Rhetorical questions like that one are the major culprits in the assault on my concentration.
Posted just before surgery: (answers in italics)
- How long do they expect I'll be in which parts of the hospital? (Surgery, ICU/Recovery, Patient room) I was in surgery for 8.5 hours, recovery for a pretty short time and then moved to the patient room for 8 days.
- Will I see the surgeon before surgery? How soon after will he check in? Yes, I saw him briefly beforehand. A year later, I don't remember exactly when he came back after I moved to the patient room, but he checked in pretty often.
- What are the policies around electronics in patient rooms? (iPod? Laptop? Wireless access?) I could have whatever I wanted. There was wireless, but it was pretty well censored so I couldn't update to fetlife.
- At what point will the first people come see me after surgery? As soon as I was in my room, they could have come in. There was an unfortunate miss communication that meant I was awake for a while and missing my family while being very confused.
- How do updates of my surgery progress get to family members? (Should they all hang out there all day? Should they rotate through, but keep someone there all day? Is there some pager system in case they all wander off?) Dr. Williams' Nurse walked out to the waiting room and gave regular updates to my family throughout the process. Then Dr. Williams came out and gave the closing report when things were done.
- Who do I need to tell about my picky diet stuff? How much space is there for making accommodations? There's not a lot to worry about diet wise when all you feel like eating is chicken broth and graham crackers. When I was ready for more food, they had plenty of options. Swedish Orthopedic Rocks!
- Will there be more digital x-rays or other images I can have access to? No nifty images of the surgery in progress, but plenty of x-rays along the way. Speaking of which I need to post a little time-lapse thing at some point.
- What items should I bring with or specifically leave home? (I have several lists, but I want to cross reference with what the nurse says on this one.) Toiletries, snacks for guests, laptop, Fraggle Rock, music, bathrobe, fuzzy socks, slippers with traction. Things I wish I'd had: moisturizer, contact list in large print, gum/mints.
Questions:
Am I good enough? Did I break something?
Answers:
Yes. No.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Robo-Red
I had an interesting experience at work today.
While walking down the very quiet hallway (I'm one of 3 people in the building on Sundays), I heard a muffled metallic popping sound.
I checked my pockets for loose objects.
I re-traced my steps to see if there was something loose in the floor.
It seemed to happen randomly, but only when I was stepping forward on my left foot. The obvious conclusion was something in my shoe must be making the noise. But I couldn't see anything stuck to the sole of my shoe, and it didn't happen every time I stepped on that foot.
**Hyperactive Worry-Wort Brain ENGAGE!!**
The noise was not entirely inconsistent with something a loose piece of hardware might make. I couldn't feel anything in my back, but there are still significant portions of my back that are numb. Oh, and now that I'm thinking about it I do feel a little more tender in my lower left quadrant...
Clearly I needed to text people about this right away!
Russell, being the clever level-headed boy that he is, suggested I try walking around with my shoes off. I was having a perfectly beautiful freak-out and he interrupts it with logical problem solving. Boys!
I took my shoes off for as long as I could stand it (I am so not one of those freedom-for-feet kind of people) and the sound didn't happen again until I put the shoes back on. While not conclusive evidence, it still seems much more likely that my shoe is responsible for the noise and not my back.
Kaylee called me back later this evening to confirm that I was not in fact turning into "Robo-Red" (hence the post title).
Clearly not.
*cough*
Please comment on my post. You have 20 seconds to comply.
While walking down the very quiet hallway (I'm one of 3 people in the building on Sundays), I heard a muffled metallic popping sound.
I checked my pockets for loose objects.
I re-traced my steps to see if there was something loose in the floor.
It seemed to happen randomly, but only when I was stepping forward on my left foot. The obvious conclusion was something in my shoe must be making the noise. But I couldn't see anything stuck to the sole of my shoe, and it didn't happen every time I stepped on that foot.
**Hyperactive Worry-Wort Brain ENGAGE!!**
The noise was not entirely inconsistent with something a loose piece of hardware might make. I couldn't feel anything in my back, but there are still significant portions of my back that are numb. Oh, and now that I'm thinking about it I do feel a little more tender in my lower left quadrant...
Clearly I needed to text people about this right away!
Russell, being the clever level-headed boy that he is, suggested I try walking around with my shoes off. I was having a perfectly beautiful freak-out and he interrupts it with logical problem solving. Boys!
I took my shoes off for as long as I could stand it (I am so not one of those freedom-for-feet kind of people) and the sound didn't happen again until I put the shoes back on. While not conclusive evidence, it still seems much more likely that my shoe is responsible for the noise and not my back.
Kaylee called me back later this evening to confirm that I was not in fact turning into "Robo-Red" (hence the post title).
Clearly not.
*cough*
Please comment on my post. You have 20 seconds to comply.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Stop Comparing
Comparing has been a source of lots of unproductive self-talk lately. This blog entry serves mostly as a note to myself.
Dear Red,
Stop comparing your stamina, your looks, your emotions, your bank account, your persistence, your resilience, your social status, your athletic ability, your entertainment preferences, your sense of responsibility, your healing capacity, your. . . ANYTHING to that of others around you. 95% of the time it just makes you miserable and the truth is they are having completely different life experiences and challenges. Stop comparing also applies to your previous existence. Not only were you having a different experience of life 3, 5, 10 years ago, you don't even remember things the way they actually were. (Here's a little secret: Nobody's actually keeping score. There will be no ranking posted at the end of the world. You will never find a list with your name on it saying "Red completed life with a rank of 127,638,461 in her class of 500,000,000 people." SO QUIT WORRYING ABOUT IT!)
Give yourself the freedom to be in awe of people around you and even yourself, to praise without needing to reduce anything in comparison. Let's start here: You are more than enough. Strong enough, disciplined enough, rich enough, busy enough, healthy enough, pretty enough, thoughtful enough, loving enough, GOOD enough.
Sincerely,
Me
Dear Me,
That's a hell of a lot easier to type than it is to believe, but thanks for the sentiment.
You Truly,
Red
Dear Red,
Stop comparing your stamina, your looks, your emotions, your bank account, your persistence, your resilience, your social status, your athletic ability, your entertainment preferences, your sense of responsibility, your healing capacity, your. . . ANYTHING to that of others around you. 95% of the time it just makes you miserable and the truth is they are having completely different life experiences and challenges. Stop comparing also applies to your previous existence. Not only were you having a different experience of life 3, 5, 10 years ago, you don't even remember things the way they actually were. (Here's a little secret: Nobody's actually keeping score. There will be no ranking posted at the end of the world. You will never find a list with your name on it saying "Red completed life with a rank of 127,638,461 in her class of 500,000,000 people." SO QUIT WORRYING ABOUT IT!)
Give yourself the freedom to be in awe of people around you and even yourself, to praise without needing to reduce anything in comparison. Let's start here: You are more than enough. Strong enough, disciplined enough, rich enough, busy enough, healthy enough, pretty enough, thoughtful enough, loving enough, GOOD enough.
Sincerely,
Me
Dear Me,
That's a hell of a lot easier to type than it is to believe, but thanks for the sentiment.
You Truly,
Red
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Everything's a priority
Posted to another discussion board earlier today:
I mentioned a little bit ago that my life was full of lists as the surgery approached. Well, as common sense would predict, the lists haven't gotten any smaller really. It seems like the closer I get closer to the day the more stuff pops up demanding immediate attention. This is the kind of vanilla problem that mucks up the works for kinky lifestyles all the time. But this time it's happening to me and I want to whine about it a little.
Max and I have a precedent that I write a detailed reflective narrative after each overnight date. At first they were necessary for clear communication, then they were a tool for course correction, now they function as a verbal photo album. He can search through his archives of emails from me and dig up all kinds of little tid-bits to play with in other scenes. As you might predict, he was really clear about wanting one after our first long weekend together--so much so that he made time for me to make notes while we were still up at the cabin. Even with the set of notes though, it still takes about 4 hours to compose the kind of reflection I've become accustomed to giving about just one day and I had 4 to write about. I love writing these things because they give me a chance to relive the experiences while I'm trying to describe them to him. This was an absolute priority to get done. I got the first two days done in successive evenings at the peril of other deadlines and priorities, but then the rest of life just wouldn't be ignored anymore.
Work deadlines came home with me and overrode all other activities Wednesday night. The next night was dedicated to my last chance to dance at Grind for a while. Friday was swallowed whole with miscellaneous pre-surgery errands (half of which went unaccomplished). Yesterday I finally got some quality time with Russell, but half-way through the evening I got a "where-the-heck is the rest of your homework" email from Max. Max is a smart man, so that was really a rhetorical question. Intellectually he understood what was going on even before I told him, but that didn't change what a priority this project was for him. He's helping me make time to finish it up tonight, but that doesn't change the way my inner perfectionist feels about getting a "where-the-heck is it" email from my dominant. Surely it shouldn't be so hard to:
"Unrealistic" you say? "Ask for help" you say? Well yes, I agree on both accounts in principle, but sometimes I need to let my inner perfectionist throw a GradeA hissy fit before I can really put her back in the corner where she belongs. I'm wondering if part of all this list making is a subconscious attempt to force more time to appear between where I am and Wednesday morning. It's completely counter productive of course. I've talked many perfectionist/overachieving friends out of emotional trees by forcing them to tear up their to-do lists. It's a little more difficult to do that from the inside though.
I mentioned a little bit ago that my life was full of lists as the surgery approached. Well, as common sense would predict, the lists haven't gotten any smaller really. It seems like the closer I get closer to the day the more stuff pops up demanding immediate attention. This is the kind of vanilla problem that mucks up the works for kinky lifestyles all the time. But this time it's happening to me and I want to whine about it a little.
Max and I have a precedent that I write a detailed reflective narrative after each overnight date. At first they were necessary for clear communication, then they were a tool for course correction, now they function as a verbal photo album. He can search through his archives of emails from me and dig up all kinds of little tid-bits to play with in other scenes. As you might predict, he was really clear about wanting one after our first long weekend together--so much so that he made time for me to make notes while we were still up at the cabin. Even with the set of notes though, it still takes about 4 hours to compose the kind of reflection I've become accustomed to giving about just one day and I had 4 to write about. I love writing these things because they give me a chance to relive the experiences while I'm trying to describe them to him. This was an absolute priority to get done. I got the first two days done in successive evenings at the peril of other deadlines and priorities, but then the rest of life just wouldn't be ignored anymore.
Work deadlines came home with me and overrode all other activities Wednesday night. The next night was dedicated to my last chance to dance at Grind for a while. Friday was swallowed whole with miscellaneous pre-surgery errands (half of which went unaccomplished). Yesterday I finally got some quality time with Russell, but half-way through the evening I got a "where-the-heck is the rest of your homework" email from Max. Max is a smart man, so that was really a rhetorical question. Intellectually he understood what was going on even before I told him, but that didn't change what a priority this project was for him. He's helping me make time to finish it up tonight, but that doesn't change the way my inner perfectionist feels about getting a "where-the-heck is it" email from my dominant. Surely it shouldn't be so hard to:
- prepare mentally and physically for surgery
- re-arrange the house for recovery
- prioritize the doing things that I will miss most during recovery (like walking in the woods and dancing at Grind)
- make quality time for Russell
- make quality time for Kaylee
- make more quality time for Max
- make quality time for my bio-family
- purchase all the weird little things I'll need for recovery
- clean the house
- make it to doctors' appointments
- keep my long-distance friends updated about life
- meet my work deadlines
- prepare my office and job to turn over to my (seriously overworked) supervisor for 6 weeks or more
- and write a standard detailed narrative of an awesome weekend
"Unrealistic" you say? "Ask for help" you say? Well yes, I agree on both accounts in principle, but sometimes I need to let my inner perfectionist throw a GradeA hissy fit before I can really put her back in the corner where she belongs. I'm wondering if part of all this list making is a subconscious attempt to force more time to appear between where I am and Wednesday morning. It's completely counter productive of course. I've talked many perfectionist/overachieving friends out of emotional trees by forcing them to tear up their to-do lists. It's a little more difficult to do that from the inside though.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The schedule takes another hit.
First of all, thank you everyone who took the time to comment on the last post.
As things get closer, I'm feeling less inspired to reflect and more information-oriented so here ya go:
I had a lovely weekend away.
I woke up this morning with a UTI (connect the dots there any way you like)
After much fussing and fretting, we've established that the infection will clear up in three days or so and I will be able to have the surgery even though I will have missed donating a second unit of blood.
Now I have those approaching work deadlines to deal with so I'll probably not be back here until Thursday night or Friday. (Maybe I'll have more yummy pictures to share though)
As things get closer, I'm feeling less inspired to reflect and more information-oriented so here ya go:
I had a lovely weekend away.
I woke up this morning with a UTI (connect the dots there any way you like)
After much fussing and fretting, we've established that the infection will clear up in three days or so and I will be able to have the surgery even though I will have missed donating a second unit of blood.
Now I have those approaching work deadlines to deal with so I'll probably not be back here until Thursday night or Friday. (Maybe I'll have more yummy pictures to share though)
Saturday, September 6, 2008
It started
Apparently, the threshold for surgery worries invading my dreams has finally been crossed. The most stressful part of last night's dream was the large number of school-aged children (relatives of some sort) roaming about needing attention and reassurance. Well, that and my inability to figure out how to get into the crocheted afghan/sleeping bag on my gurney or whether to lie face up or face down. I think Russell needs a bigger blanket on his new bed. :)
I'm quickly reaching the point where there's noting left to do but watch the surgery date approach like a freight train. I've been coping these last couple weeks (and this weekend) by busying myself with schedules and to-do lists, but those are both running out of space pretty quickly. My conscious awareness may be finding these kinds of activities helpful, but the sub-conscious mind in charge of body functions is not fooled. It's already calling for preparations. While I haven't significantly changed my eating or activity habits, I'm storing more fat and gaining weight. My body temp, which usually runs at a cool 97.9, has been slowly but steadily increasing over the last week. It was at 99.0 when I went in to donate blood yesterday although I'm not feeling particularly ill. I'm trying to pace myself, have some quiet time, stop fixating. I think I'm going to need more reminders and external support on this goal next week. Fortunately, I have a community of friends and family capable of doing just that.
I'm quickly reaching the point where there's noting left to do but watch the surgery date approach like a freight train. I've been coping these last couple weeks (and this weekend) by busying myself with schedules and to-do lists, but those are both running out of space pretty quickly. My conscious awareness may be finding these kinds of activities helpful, but the sub-conscious mind in charge of body functions is not fooled. It's already calling for preparations. While I haven't significantly changed my eating or activity habits, I'm storing more fat and gaining weight. My body temp, which usually runs at a cool 97.9, has been slowly but steadily increasing over the last week. It was at 99.0 when I went in to donate blood yesterday although I'm not feeling particularly ill. I'm trying to pace myself, have some quiet time, stop fixating. I think I'm going to need more reminders and external support on this goal next week. Fortunately, I have a community of friends and family capable of doing just that.
Monday, August 18, 2008
No Strings Attached
Lately, scenes with Max can be a little extra loaded. It's hard to see big forces of change on the horizon when right now I have something that works so well and that I like so much. The mind gets busy with the worrying: What if I never get to do this again after surgery? Am I ok with my massage therapist seeing the impending marks? What will our relationship look like during my recovery? How do I get the absolute most out of my body right now without risking surgery-delaying damage? Why won't my mind let go so I can just be here now and process this?
The good news? Max is awesome. His steady reassurance and actions that consistently follow his words make for a very safe place to let go of all those strings tugging at my mind. Eventually, I stop having to think at all. Only his words and actions require my response. It's a marvelous place to be.
And as a surgery-prep bonus, I get one hell of a core strength workout.
*wanders off humming Pinocchio songs*
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
2 and a Half Months
Posted to LJ on: Jul. 13th, 2008 at 1:17 PM
2 and a half months feels a lot scarier than 3 months. It's a difference of two weeks, but all I'm saying is YIKES!
I feel dumb and scared and stressed out today for no real apparent reason. Yesterday was really nice, maybe this is just a little whiplash. I sent an email with my major calendar items between now and October earlier today. That's probably what triggered this little panic episode. Except for camp, August is invisible right now. I'm either planning for the next two weeks or for September so today it feels more like 1 and a half months.
Ok now that I've typed it out, I think I can start talking myself back down.
Re-establish ties with reality.
Be here now.
Drink water.
Move my body.
Take my vitamins.
Enjoy my Sunday.
ps. This is the last of the "Re-Posts" From here on out I'll be blogging in real-time.
2 and a half months feels a lot scarier than 3 months. It's a difference of two weeks, but all I'm saying is YIKES!
I feel dumb and scared and stressed out today for no real apparent reason. Yesterday was really nice, maybe this is just a little whiplash. I sent an email with my major calendar items between now and October earlier today. That's probably what triggered this little panic episode. Except for camp, August is invisible right now. I'm either planning for the next two weeks or for September so today it feels more like 1 and a half months.
Ok now that I've typed it out, I think I can start talking myself back down.
Re-establish ties with reality.
Be here now.
Drink water.
Move my body.
Take my vitamins.
Enjoy my Sunday.
ps. This is the last of the "Re-Posts" From here on out I'll be blogging in real-time.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Porn Should Not Make You Cry
Posted to LJ on: May. 25th, 2008 at 10:14 AM
Here's the gist of a post I made on a friend's D/s discussion board:
Earlier this week I stopped in at Wild at Heart and picked up a book that had some promise. He's on Top edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Anyway, I finally got around to reading some of the stories this weekend and let me just say this book should come with a warning label. Most of the stories are well written (if a little tame for my reading tastes). But last night I stumbled upon the story "The Sun Is an Ordinary Star" by Shanna Germain. It starts off giving credence to the fact that it's in a collection of erotic fiction, but then blind sides the reader.
After the narrator finishes his flashback prompted by finding a pair of nipple clamps under the bed, he tells us about his wife's battle with breast cancer and we come to understand that he's about to pick her up from the hospital after her lumpectomy. The rest of the story recounts his big stupid guy mistake. He treats his wife like she's this fragile form that can be barely touched and certainly not capable of withstanding their previous sexual activities. This of course brings much frustration to both parties. In a moment of desperation she says "I need you to stop fucking me like I'm dying, I'm not dying. But every time you touch me soft, every time you ask if I'm okay, another little piece of me falls off." Then the author gives us 1/2 a page of "resolution" in which the narrator finds his gonads again and is determined to top his wife.
The more investment a person has in caring for his or her partner, the riskier our kinky D/s activities feel. I'm one of the luckiest girls I know--I have a primary partner with whom I can share my life, I have a dominant partner who truly understands what my submission is all about, I have a primary girlfriend who gets my top-juices flowing like no other and then goes shopping with me afterwards, and I have a whole community of friends who are there every time I reach out my hand. None of that changes the fact that I'm positively scared out of my whits of finding myself in the position described in the story above. What it does change is my belief about what will happen if I do find myself there. Things will work out. We're all strong smart people and none of us will stop loving one another.
Here's the gist of a post I made on a friend's D/s discussion board:
Earlier this week I stopped in at Wild at Heart and picked up a book that had some promise. He's on Top edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Anyway, I finally got around to reading some of the stories this weekend and let me just say this book should come with a warning label. Most of the stories are well written (if a little tame for my reading tastes). But last night I stumbled upon the story "The Sun Is an Ordinary Star" by Shanna Germain. It starts off giving credence to the fact that it's in a collection of erotic fiction, but then blind sides the reader.
After the narrator finishes his flashback prompted by finding a pair of nipple clamps under the bed, he tells us about his wife's battle with breast cancer and we come to understand that he's about to pick her up from the hospital after her lumpectomy. The rest of the story recounts his big stupid guy mistake. He treats his wife like she's this fragile form that can be barely touched and certainly not capable of withstanding their previous sexual activities. This of course brings much frustration to both parties. In a moment of desperation she says "I need you to stop fucking me like I'm dying, I'm not dying. But every time you touch me soft, every time you ask if I'm okay, another little piece of me falls off." Then the author gives us 1/2 a page of "resolution" in which the narrator finds his gonads again and is determined to top his wife.
The more investment a person has in caring for his or her partner, the riskier our kinky D/s activities feel. I'm one of the luckiest girls I know--I have a primary partner with whom I can share my life, I have a dominant partner who truly understands what my submission is all about, I have a primary girlfriend who gets my top-juices flowing like no other and then goes shopping with me afterwards, and I have a whole community of friends who are there every time I reach out my hand. None of that changes the fact that I'm positively scared out of my whits of finding myself in the position described in the story above. What it does change is my belief about what will happen if I do find myself there. Things will work out. We're all strong smart people and none of us will stop loving one another.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Pre-visit Jitters
Posted to LJ on: May. 13th, 2008 at 11:53 PM
In a little more than 8 hours I'll be sitting in yet another surgeon's waiting room.
Now that things are getting even that tiny bit closer I've started the bargaining process again. It goes something like this:
"I promise to be a good girl and eat fiber and do exercise and meditate and ... and.... and..... Just please give me a copy of my x-rays from 5 years ago that show my spine is actually stable or better than it was then and as long as I can be the model picture of health and vitality I don't have to do this stupid surgery thing."
Then I have the denial round:
"Seriously, I bet those x-rays would say that, and I'm just making a fuss because I want the attention so I should really just come to my senses now and find more productive ways to ask for attention like...i don't know...streaking down Broadway at 8 PM?! I don't really need this surgery and if I say that loud enough I don't even have to go Dr. Ambiguous-gender-name in the morning."
Then I hear something inside and from the other side of all of this saying it's all going to be all right--more than all right really. You are strong and wise and supported from every possible direction. There has never been a better time to do this. It's kind of hard to hear that through all the other head noise, but it's still there.
In a little more than 8 hours I'll be sitting in yet another surgeon's waiting room.
Now that things are getting even that tiny bit closer I've started the bargaining process again. It goes something like this:
"I promise to be a good girl and eat fiber and do exercise and meditate and ... and.... and..... Just please give me a copy of my x-rays from 5 years ago that show my spine is actually stable or better than it was then and as long as I can be the model picture of health and vitality I don't have to do this stupid surgery thing."
Then I have the denial round:
"Seriously, I bet those x-rays would say that, and I'm just making a fuss because I want the attention so I should really just come to my senses now and find more productive ways to ask for attention like...i don't know...streaking down Broadway at 8 PM?! I don't really need this surgery and if I say that loud enough I don't even have to go Dr. Ambiguous-gender-name in the morning."
Then I hear something inside and from the other side of all of this saying it's all going to be all right--more than all right really. You are strong and wise and supported from every possible direction. There has never been a better time to do this. It's kind of hard to hear that through all the other head noise, but it's still there.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
It's the little things
Posted to LJ on: Apr. 21st, 2008 at 12:59 PM
Today while listening to the song Kaylee and I decided not to use for Bang for the Buck next year, I was reminded that Bang for the Buck will happen after spinal fusion. Will I be able to walk on stripper heals? Will the way my body moves still illicit tips? Will I fit into the costume we already purchased? Will I be able to attend without being unreasonably exhausted? (Will I ever post about anything completely unrelated to the surgery?)
Bang isn't until February so I'll have several months of recovery under my belt at that point. Realistically, it will probably be just fine. But right now it's hard to get my brain to drop the worrying, be here now, let the then take care of itself. I'm kind of looking forward to camp this summer. It means I won't have time to think about this stuff during the day, nor will I have energy to worry it too much when I get home.
Today while listening to the song Kaylee and I decided not to use for Bang for the Buck next year, I was reminded that Bang for the Buck will happen after spinal fusion. Will I be able to walk on stripper heals? Will the way my body moves still illicit tips? Will I fit into the costume we already purchased? Will I be able to attend without being unreasonably exhausted? (Will I ever post about anything completely unrelated to the surgery?)
Bang isn't until February so I'll have several months of recovery under my belt at that point. Realistically, it will probably be just fine. But right now it's hard to get my brain to drop the worrying, be here now, let the then take care of itself. I'm kind of looking forward to camp this summer. It means I won't have time to think about this stuff during the day, nor will I have energy to worry it too much when I get home.
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