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*

Control Freak Much?

Despite the fact that my life is going really well lately, my brain chemicals have been giving me troubles. This led to a strange thought process last night.
I started thinking about what would/should happen if I become one of the tiny statistics and don't make it out of surgery. Now I'm not tagging this post with "worrying" because I'm actually not worried about that happening at all. If I tag this post it will be with "control freak" instead. Here's a little picture of my brain:

First off, while listening to the Rent soundtrack, I actually sent an email to my mother asking her to request that one of her singing (former)monks return to town to sing at my service with the other two singing monks. (Yes, really, I sent that email to my mother. One of the things I love about my family--bio and chosen both--is that we're not afraid to talk about the awkward stuff.) I'm thinking this has two benefits: I love their voices together and find them soothing and compelling at the same time, and these are some of my mother's closest support network so getting them all together again would help her.

That led me to what kinds of things my chosen family might need to get through it. I decided there wasn't much for me to do around that since what they'll really need is each other. I have no doubt that they will find a way to come together even those who are scattered across the country.

Then my mind wandered to the ever-present difficulty with those of us in the kink community. Obviously there will need to be two gatherings, I just couldn't decide if the straight one should happen in my old home town or here in Seattle. Eventually I decided Seattle was a better option so that my Dad wouldn't have to travel as far and people from work could make it too. Precisely where to do the straight one in Seattle isn't all that important to me--maybe Discovery park to get some woods time . The kinky gathering could happen at the Wetspot or maybe out at Paradise. Honestly, I would just want my family to do what worked best and easiest for them. I would also want it to be CRYSTAL CLEAR to everyone that people of any persuasion are welcome to either gathering so long as they understood and respected the nature of the thing (eg. no reminiscing about that wild scene I did with so-and-so at the straight one and no wigging out about the weirdos/perverts at the kinky one).

The whole line of thought ended with me seeing one of my family members commenting on my control freak nature that compelled me to leave these kinds of thought in writing somewhere.

Oddly, one of the reasons I'm not afraid of dieing during surgery is that I have a really fantastic life and family right now. I'm very happy with what I've done and the people I've touched and the things I learned. I have plenty to live for.

Less Than Two Months

Last Friday marked exactly two months until surgery. I spent a large portion of the work day thinking about what I would be doing two months from then and what I needed to do to prepare for the inevitable. I can't say that was the best use of my time and mental energy, but I will say I managed to do it without careening into a death spiral. Lately I seem to be dealing with it through a combination of dark humor, retail therapy, and reality checks. In a week or two I'm going to need to contact my surgeon's office and get the ball rolling on extended leave requests and blood donation scheduling. Right now I'm more about acquiring bedding that makes me grin and want to squirm around on the bed happily.

Also, as a side note, I'm considering introducing my massage therapist to the wonders of gags next week. What I interpreted last week as a typical reaction to kink information was actually just the way he talks all the time. The whole session was spent with him rattling on about how busy and stressful his weekend had been. Oddly, I had a much harder time releasing some of those tight spots in my back. Oh well, I have a whole week to come up with polite ways to say "STFU!"