Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Already a Long Week

Well, this Mental Health Awareness Month is one for the journal pages. It appears that my identity crisis on Saturday was just the beginning of a miserable week. It’s only Tuesday and I’ve already had two mental breakdowns. Uncontrollable crying and the urge to close out everything BDSM-related in my life in an instant.

This job promotion could be wonderful. It could also be a lot of stress. I guess even more so if I don’t get it and the complete lack of confidence from my superiors would be difficult to bare. And while it’s been a nice distraction from my regular life and money stress, it’s not making any of the other disappear.

I’m just tired of saying ‘when things calm down’. I keep waiting for things to resolve themselves and to begin to make sense, but they don’t. Money is still tight, my neck still feels naked, and I’m still lost. I keep telling myself that things will sort themselves out soon, but I’m beginning to question that.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.”
Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones’s Diary

I think for me this happened last summer. I decided to go back to work full time and actually began to enjoy my job. It’s stressful, but normally I can handle that. But while that was going okay, everything else exploded. Things started falling apart with the house, costing more money, which started that stress. My husband’s job got messy. And, above all for me, our D/s dynamic completely disappeared. Ever since taking my collar off earlier this year I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of things.

I think one of the biggest attractions to submission for me is the idea of having a direction. Of know what is expected of me and what I need to be doing. I don’t remember feeling this directionless before I found kink, but now that I’m without it, it’s glaring. Maybe that’s too much pressure to put on another person; maybe that’s why it didn’t work out last time. I just don’t want to be responsible for everyone’s happiness while ignoring my own all the time. Submission was chance to be cared for for awhile.

Lost in a Daydream

I had a daydream while I was in the shower. I was scrubbing off the day’s workout and when I rinsed off the soap my tattoo sleeve began to come off. At first I thought it was just dirt from cleaning at the house. However, I soon realized it was actually the ink running. I checked my other tattoos, but it was only my sleeve that was coming off. And not just a little bit, but most of the lace was already gone. Panicking, I tried to shield my arm from the water stream. I jumped from the shower and dried my arm to stem the loss. However, when I removed the towel there was little remaining of a piece that took over ten hours of tattooing and cost a lot of money.

Daydream may have been a bit of a misnomer. More like a nightmare that I was awake for. I zone out in the shower and jolted moments later with this stuck in my head. I clutched my arm for the rest of my shower and rushed rinsing my hair. I still can’t shake the feeling I had.

When I was still in therapy, I talked about dreams a lot. My therapist always wanted to break down my dreams as a part of how I was process stress. Some of them while I was pregnant were quite interesting. It was occasionally hokey, but most of it was quite helpful. And, even though this was a daydream, I used the same techniques to try and process it.

I feel like I am losing myself. Like my identity is being stripped just like the ink on my arm. Now I am worried that I am even more lost than I thought. My head has me to tied in knots that I don’t feel like myself. So much so, that my brain is removing my most personal tattoo like it were magic marker. Maybe it’s time to head back to therapy. Or just a few touch-ups on my sleeve to ensure it’s really on there. I know which would be more painful.

Christmas Dry Spell

Christmas for me is about stress. Ever since I reached the age where I began purchasing gifts for friends and family. I always want to find that perfect present. I really look for personal gifts. Finding something that I know a person would enjoy is always a goal. Often there will be something that is a joke or memory attached, or something they  really need.

One year I found a rare Care Bear on Ebay that my Aunt collects. Another year I did and Etsy Christmas were all my gifts were handmade and I made my own cards and wrapping paper. That was obviously before we had kids and I still had time and money to burn.

For the last few years Christmas has been a mad scramble. I am usually optimistic when I start the shopping list and budget in early November. But by the first week in December I am a mess. I am almost always over budge (four years and counting) and can never find time to get caught up with everything that needs done.

The wrapping piles up until the last hours before Christmas. This year everything is down in the basement as that’s the only place we can regulate the kids’ access. And every night I plan to go down and get a little bit done, but some other immediate need comes up and it continues to be pushed off.

Then there are the last minute, “oh shit” people that I forget to buy for. This year it was the boys’ teachers. Last year it was the husband’s boss. So some last minute shopping trip(s) is inevitable. Again sucking up time and ruining my carefully planned budget even more.

I know, my whining has nothing to do with kink. But it has a lot to do with sex. As in, we don’t have any. I haven’t done a factual study, but I’d wager that December is easily my sexless month. Jack’s recent visit aside, obviously (that is not, though hopefully will be standard). I am just too stressed out. I hardly sleep. Getting to bed late and up early doesn’t give us many sexy opportunities.

There is also the influx of extended family time. This year they are coming to our house. Which, while it does mean we get to sleep in our own bed, does mean that quietness is paramount. When we travel I always feel a little weird having sex in someone else’s house. A hotel is fine, but I never know how squeaky someone’s guest bed is, or, how thin the walls are.

So we usually spend the weekend drinking, getting horny, and then going to bed frustrated. Or we’ll stay up chatting with family or fighting with the kids to stay in bed until we pass out. Either way, I guess I should only speak for me, but I’m a grumpy mess by the time everyone leaves. Making sure that everyone else is having a good time and getting everything they need is exhausting. And as I only get Monday off this year since Christmas falls on a Sunday, I’ll be heading back to work on Tuesday. My poor co-workers.

**To spite this post I grabbed the Doxy and had a marvelous orgasm last night. To spite me right back, as soon as I put the Doxy away I remembered I don’t have a dinner planned for tonight.**

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Spoil Me Thin

Okay, that title is crap. Well, I think it’s crap. I’ve never really been spoiled too much before. But I’m pretty sure I cannot blame that on me being overweight. If I can, please let me know immediately.

As my twitter boyfriend and I near the holidays we are trying to push our weight-loss into overdrive. We have issued a challenge to one another. The goal is to lose at least 8 lbs. by Christmas (1 lb. per week). We are going to try and support one another to exercise more and stay on top of our diets. Between vacations, emotionally tense situations, and life in general, we have both let things slide. Me much more than him, if I’m honest.

So after a week of logging food (again), and even attempting to exercise, I have gained a pound. Yeah, because my body can’t say ‘fuck you’ enough. I didn’t even eat that much candy this weekend. Though after I stepped off the scale I certainly wanted to. Instead I went outside and raked leaves for a little over an hour. Feeling good about myself I then ruined all my hard work by having Taco Bell for lunch. Yes, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment.

I’m just so up and down mood-wise lately. And it honestly surprises me how much that will mess with my sleep and weight patterns. And stress is going to be around for awhile, so if I’m going to meet this challenge I will have to find a way to push through. The twitter boyfriend has made the offer quite nice.

We talked about gifts and different things to reward ourselves with if we make it. We decided that in order to get the rewards, we both have to meet the goal. This way it’s about supporting each other, rather than it becoming a competition. He has talked about giving me a spa day. I have always wanted a full wax, so it certainly sounds like good motivation. Buying for him is more difficult though. He doesn’t like the idea of me spending money on him, and we aren’t sure how his wife will feel about it. As neither of us want to mess with their current progress, we are still working out his reward.

I’m hopeful though that this will restart my weight loss. I went down twenty pounds over the summer and then completely stalled out at the end of August. I haven’t put a lot back on (except for that fucking one pound!). However, I’m still shy of my goal weight by quite a lot and I’m worried that this plateau may be permanent.

While I thought that more sex may help, it has not had the desired affect. That or I just haven’t hit the threshold for sex to be considered a workout. I was planning on participating in All Anal November this year, so it’s possible that Sir and I can make it work. Not that I intend to make this some sort of diet or weight loss blog, but I will keep you posted. A wax is on the line, and being the exhibitionist that I am I need to win it so I can post pictures. It will be a happy holiday for everyone.

Hurt

It’s been a long time since I have been hurt. You don’t hurt me often and I don’t necessarily think you do it on purpose. But when it happens, I can’t breathe.

I want you to be happy. But I can’t always make the kids behave. I won’t always be in the best mood when you get home. I try. I really do.

Fuck it.

I hate how horrible I feel when you hurt me. Like it’s somehow my fault. You didn’t think, you just yelled. Only the look on my face let you know the damage you caused. But it was too late.

I cleaned the kitchen. I folded the laundry. I tried to stay busy and accomplish something to make you happy. To not see that anger again. All I wanted was to curl into a ball and cry. That’s how I feel when I disappoint you. I wanted every bit of fried food and ice cream I could stomach. Then I could at least be mad at myself for a good reason, ruining my diet.

~

I wrote that yesterday afternoon. When I was still hurting and upset.

I thought I wanted you to feel guilty, but that doesn’t accomplish anything. You apologized, you felt bad. I’m not sure I need any more than that. Torturing you by continuing to be hurt about it isn’t going to fix it.

I just want you to feel better. This stress that has you on edge of anxious all the time is wearing you down. Not to mention what it is doing to us; though that is a pretty selfish motive for change. We have enough to be stressed about. Our relationship, our time together should be a refuge from all that. Whether that can include D/s right now, I don’t know.

I guess I just wish that you didn’t have to hurt me to realize that something is wrong.

I wish sex was as rough as my life

Yesterday was rough. I have meeting with my doctor every once and awhile to talk about my meds and how I’ve been feeling. Our meeting went well, we just started talking about all the things coming up in the next month or so. About how the renovation was more expensive than we planned and how the kids being sick has kept me from working on the business when I get home. How Sir is stressed with his own job and other family crap that refuses to give him closure. It was nice to talk to her, and she even said she was impressed that it seemed I was handling things well.

And I was…until I got in the car. The whole way home the panic attack was crawling under my skin. When I got home Sir noticed that something was wrong, but he had to get ready for work. He asked if I was okay and the damn broke. I felt terrible doing that to him and then him having to leave for work; he didn’t need that. Everything just felt like a wave trying to carry me off with it. I’m a good swimmer (literally and figuratively), but this riptide is wicked. Someday I’ll write about the time I actually nearly drowned in a riptide (sorry, it seemed on topic).

The positive bits and pieces and each day aren’t overshadowing or even balancing out the negative lately. Those brief moments of bliss when I wake up in the morning, or when Sir gives me release don’t add up to staring at a pile of bills and a house that needs cleaned and in many cases still unpacked. I know this will pass.

The new job is going well. There is a lot to learn, but everyone is nice and positive about my progress. The long weekend will be good too. Definitely going to save my calories so I can have a drink or two.

Everyone in my life is just under a lot of stress. The twitter boyfriend has a mountain I can’t even begin to explain. I hate bugging him with anything less than fantastic news to brighten his day. Sir’s work stress continues. My parents are condo shopping, which is turning out to not be as fun as my mother expected. It’s just hard to find refuge in people when everyone else is looking for it too.

Yesterday was just the price of doing business I guess.

Circling back around again

It’s been awhile since my depression has hit me up side the head, so I shouldn’t really be surprised by the last 24 hours. Yesterday morning I woke up in a weird mood and never really recovered. The kids weren’t any more stressful than normal, my dad even came over to help me install a ceiling fan in the office and watched the kids for me while I mowed the lawn and ran to the store. But my head was already in a bad place, so there was just no getting passed it.

I’ve started a new diet with support from a friend. It’s been going well. I mean, I guess it’s going well. We don’t have a scale in the house, so I don’t know if I’ve lost any weight. I feel pretty good though, and I’ve been doing well with not overeating and eating breakfast every day. Exercise is still fleeting, but that’s mostly because the boys are still home with me. Their summer program starts next week. Right now I’m just worried I’m going to be putting too much pressure on myself to get everything done in the seven hours they are out of the house. Exercise, work, and not forgetting to eat lunch will be a challenge. I’m almost positive that won’t end well.

But I guess I’ve just been feeling really needy lately. People ask me questions on Twitter, Fetlife, or Kik and don’t really care about my answer. Or I try to engage, only to receive one word answers. It’s difficult when your only adult socialization is over social media. Aside from humor and scary Trump quotes I don’t get a lot of interaction during the day. I don’t know why that’s anyone else’s problem or fault though. Other people have lives, jobs, and responsibilities too.

Guess this is just my randomly scheduled bout of hopelessness. I’m starting to apply for jobs now that we are settled. Right now I still have my database position and my business, but once Sir and I are both on our own payrolls we are going to need insurance. So if I could get a part or full-time job to get everyone covered, then I could still have my business on the side and he could set up his law firm with a lot less stress. Stress, however, is sort of a watch word when it comes to looking for employment, at least for me. I don’t know how willing I should be to apply for a job that I know I wouldn’t really enjoy or make very much money, or if I should only apply for jobs that I really want. Of course, the problem with that being that if/when (at this point only when) I don’t get the job, I get really bummed out. And nothing makes you feel worse about yourself than not even getting a call for a job that you know you could do and do well.

I’ve also been talking to a few people in the local kink community about starting a relationship. Mostly Doms that would understand that I am Sir’s, but would be loaned out for play a few times a month. And talking is all well and good. But I don’t know if this is even something I want. I don’t know that I want another Dom. Having sex with someone (or multiple people) other than Sir is one thing, but they would either be friends or complete strangers. They wouldn’t necessarily be ‘doming’ me. Either Sir would be there, telling me what to do, or I would get rules before I left. I just don’t think I could handle two Doms. The idea sounds good in my head. He could possibly provide the control and fill sexual gaps when Sir is stressed or busy. It would be a chance to try new kinks like wax play. A chance to process and release my submissive cravings so I can be happier and more relaxed around Sir and the kids.

Or it could be a massive clusterfuck. And considering my track record hasn’t been that great lately, I’m not sure I want to chance it. Screwing up something like that could mess with Sir and my marriage. Some things just aren’t on the table to be trifled with. Sir is supportive, but I can tell he’s struggling with the general idea, the closer I get to specifics the worse I can see it wear on him. Hurting him isn’t worth anything. He’s been so supportive of my possible threesome trip this fall, I don’t want to push too much as it pertains to his trust.

Today is about trusting that my meds are doing what they need to and worrying about getting through the day. I can worry about big things like play partners and career crap over the weekend. We may be kid free for the first time in this house as my mother-in-law is looking for some good grandma time. Maybe Sir can watch the kids so I can go for a run. I always think best when I exercise.

Sexless Transition

So Sir and I were having a conversation last night about stress and money stuff. I hate money stuff, but Sir trusts me to take care of it. Anyway, the conversation goes like this:

Sir: It’s just stressful.

Rye: Yeah.

Sir: And this is what has turned me into a sexless monk.

Rye: Yeah.

Quite a riveting exchange, wasn’t it? Because what was I supposed to say? Yeah, it’s fine that we only have sex once a week. Of course it’s okay that I spend more time building Legos with our 4yo than I do naked. I am trying to be supportive. Trying to understand that the last few months have been crazy for both of us that we are trying to deal with things in our own way. So nodding along as become the obvious option.

But I won’t lie and say that it’s not hard. I flip from being wildly horny to blindingly frustrated at the kids all day. That balance has been hard to maintain lately. I don’t know how it changed, but my sex drive has actually made intimacy more difficult. At least it seems like that to me. I am always turned on, so he feels intimidated. Again, that is just my viewpoint. And that creates stress for both of us.

So how do I help the sexless monk? I think he is only saying that because he knows we aren’t having as much sex as I would like. Or maybe he’s just not attracted to me specifically. My worry-wart mind has run through several possibilities. But most of them lead back to stress. We both wanted to get into this house and I think we expected everything to settle down. This whole adult thing has been hard to swallow. And our kids have had a great time reminding us how green we really are.

So, maybe we have to be sexless monks for awhile. And when the stress settles we can get back to enjoying each other and maybe even a few new people.

Absence makes

Absence makes you way behind on your school work, or miss an important meeting, or makes you forget your co-worker’s name. Absence, in my experience, does not make the heart grow fonder. My years in a long-distance relationship were not fond; with the only good memories being when we did sort out a quick visit. I tend to feel unwanted and unloved without a physical presence. So maybe my reaction to ‘absence’ isn’t the same as most. But I have found that this type of reaction is the same for all aspects of a relationship for me, especially sex.

My sex drive over the last few years has skyrocketed. Partially because of children, partially because I’ve finally gotten my medication sorted out, but mostly because of BDSM and finding my submissive sexuality. Hearing ‘Sir’ on TV gets me completely gooey, even if it’s just the news or some cooking show (okay, full disclosure, I watch cooking shows for fun). And constantly having this sexual charge hasn’t really been a problem. I like being able to be turned on by almost anything; and Sir likes that he can use me at his whim without needing to warm me up or use lube (because sometimes my purse isn’t big enough to always have it on hand). I’ve even gotten used to being horny in front of my parents, it’s not pleasant, but I’m not bothered by it anymore. In fact, I am more bothered when I’m not horny.

Which is now creating a new problem. Sir is struggling. It’s not his fault. There has been one stress after another. In fact, as I type this a man is in our living room cutting a whole in our ceiling because the master shower has leaked and destroyed the subfloor. It’s always something. And his job isn’t exactly a walk in the park. The first thing to go when he gets stressed is his sex drive. He is tired when he gets home, the idea of a scene or even vanilla sex seems like too much work. A good cuddle is nice, but it isn’t the same. And it is hard to ask for orgasms or attention as I know he has other things on his mind. So we just go to sleep.

So the absence of one leads to another. Because we aren’t having much sex or control of any kind I find my sex drive cooling. I’ve gotten comfortable being horny all the time, and how that it is fading I am unsure what to do. Part of me wants that 24-hour desire back, and part of me feels better being closer to his drive level. If he is going to want sex less, then maybe I should too. If I was horny less, then he wouldn’t feel pressured to always preform. And I do need to accept the reality that control isn’t a priority for him right now. I’m just worried that absence will just lead to more absence. If I stop enjoying being horny and frustrated all the time, will I just stop being horny? Will it just become commonplace like it was before my sex drive spiked? I don’t want to lose this new sexual me, but I also don’t enjoy being depressed because I’m so sexually frustrated. If control and dominance is not going to be part of my everyday life, then how do I balance that? The absence of control and how to keep going is my new task. Like finding a way to catch up on all that missed work or remembering that coworker’s name as soon as they walk away.

Come up for air

I wish that title was in reference to sex, but alas…no.

Work stress has had Sir in knots lately. We had planned this year pretty carefully to try and spread out the madness a bit. But last week, on Sir’s birthday no less, his boss dropped a bomb that threw everything out of sync. It just couldn’t come at a worse time. So much so that we were considering starting Sir’s firm a few months early. But of course, that leads to insurance issues. Yesterday was a good turning point. He and his boss hashed out everything and he’s decided to stay. It was a big relief considering we just moved and have a lot to settle before we deal with insurance and new business expenses.

All of this has had a devastating effect on our sex life. Saturday evening, our first night in the new house, we had fun sex. Lots of lovely pounding and spanking helped us both sleep. But since then I have been cursing his boss and trying not to scream at the kids. I don’t blame him, I really don’t. I can’t imagine weighing all this in my head the last few days. I completely understand the lack of horny as he figured out what to do. And even now that things have been sorted, getting a dominant head space may not come all that easy.

So now we are moving on to just focusing on moving. Well, moving in. I found my coffee cup and the doxy; so all the important things are unpacked 🙂

With all the important items found we can try to get back to sexy this weekend. At least we don’t have anywhere to go. Just boxes to unpack. Which suits me just fine.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings