So, what's the bunch of other shit that made this last year really suck, you ask? Also, you may be wondering why this generally 'anti-sharing my life with random people' person is willing to share them with you, most likely a total stranger? I'll address the 2nd pondering 1st.
I'm a fairly private person, though if you ask me something about myself, you'll get a full, sometimes uncomfortable answer. When people ask, "How are you doing?", 99.9% of them don't want the real answer. They want to hear, "Fine, thanks. And you?" It's similar when it comes to BDSM. People want to hear about all the kinky crazy things ya do and not much else. I get so sick of that. 24/7 Lifestyle BDSM is not all whips, chains, cuffs, "yes, Mistress", "no, Mistress", and "on your knees bitch." People are people no matter what their lifestyle or title. I'm a living, breathing, thinking, feeling, loving PERSON and I will make you see that. My hope is that not just BDSM people will read this and gain a greater understanding of the many people behind the titles and labels. Also, I really need to rant about some of this shit and I've worn some ears off doing so off-line. And I do feel a lil bit guilty, since I started this blog and and then disappeared and the people following or just occasionally reading this (thank you mucho) deserve to hear why I disappeared. Finally, I've been jotting down notes for the past year to post and never got around to it. I don't like doing that.
Now (drum roll) to the shit that really sucked (at least some of it). Last February, my best friend broke up with her cheating boyfriend and a few weeks later attempted suicide. There's a lot behind that break-up and suicide attempt but it's her story and I won't violate her privacy in that way. Let's just say, when I say cheating, I mean cheating, ok ... like super duper cheating. She has 3 children(5, 8 and 16), is a single mother and at the time had 1 snake, 7 cats (4 rescued from a dumpster, that she eventually was able to adopt out) 2 large dogs and a guinea pig. We stepped in to help her get through the break-up and pretty much took over her home for her so she could just grieve. We were there 3-4 days per week. At the end of February, she snapped, while we were driving to her house and arrived as she was storming from her home stating that she was going to kill herself, the kids would be better off without her, etc. Brian stayed in the house with the kids and I chased her down in my car trying to reason with her. I didn't work. I eventually called the police and they stopped her before she could get to her chosen suicide location. This is the 2nd time I've been the one to stop a close friend from killing themselves by calling the cops. It feels like a horrible betrayal, especially when they scream at me things like "I wasn't really gonna do it! I didn't mean it! I was just taking a walk!" etc. Bullshit. And is terrifying. What if the cops don't get here fast enough? What if I'm doing this wrong? What if I say the wrong thing? I can't describe all the feelings and fears that rocket through your head in a situation like that. I hope you have never had to and never have to deal with that.
We spent the next few months being and doing everything we could for her, too much in fact, but oh well. Then that summer, she snapped again. She accused me of conspiring against her, of using her and lying about all her actions. Her last spoken words to me, in front of a group of friends, were "you lying fucking cunt!" as she stormed out of the building. She then texted me calling me, "a backstabbing liar." All this because I said that I agreed with others that thought when she, about a month earlier, had gone to her ex's house at about 1 am, sat under his bedroom window listening to him with his new girlfriend, then ransacked the woman's car to find out who she was, then threw large rocks at her ex's car and finally rammed his truck with her car so hard the truck crashed into a tree and destroyed her car's front end, was a bad thing. Well, slap me silly and call me Suzy, but those seem like "bad things." She also straight up denied doing it, though she'd already told everyone there about it. She also denied ever attempting suicide. Yeah, homegirl went crazy.
Well after that, I was a lying, using monster that actually hadn't been helping her at all: we hadn't gotten her kids up 3 out of 5 days most weeks for school; we hadn't made virtually every meal she and her kids ate during those months; we hadn't taken care of all her animals. I was just using her for pot. There ain't enough pot in the world to make me put up with all the shit we did! And she made sure that all our mutual friends knew it thanks to emails, which she also sent to me. O, yay! I didn't respond to a single text or email. I had nothing to say to her. I was shocked beyond belief. I couldn't believe how much she'd rewritten the history of the past few months. Our mutual friends didn't believe her of course, but it sure as hell caused a lot of friction.
I've not exchanged a single word with her since. Most painful because that means I can't see her children who I love with all my heart. Her youngest, I've known since he was just months old. Her 8 year old daughter literally wants to be me when she grows up and has said so in no uncertain terms. Her 16 year old demanded my presence at school plays, thought I was "kewl" and talked about her artwork with me. I miss them so damn much. But there's no friend break-up court where I can ask for visitation. To them, except the eldest who really 'saw' what happened and actually told her mother "mom, you need help", we just disappeared. No goodbye's, hugs or anything. Horrible.
*sigh* I could write more but I'm getting tired. I'm still healing from surgery and get tired easily. Hopefully, more posts will come by this Sunday.
Friday, March 18, 2011
History of a Hysterectomy, Part I
Yes, it has been a hell of a long time since I've written anything here ... Perhaps the title of the post explains why. That's right folks, among other hellish things that occurred in the last year that kept me from writing (I'll go into those in other posts), on February 14th of this year I said good-bye to my cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries.
Painful and heavy periods were not foreign to me but starting around February 2010, they became unbearable. I had truly lovely pelvic exam and was put on a pill to stop me from bleeding to death and hormone therapy which would allow only 4 periods per year. As usual, the pelvic exam results were normal and my cervix and uterus were a lovely happy fertile pink. The hormone therapy worked until October/November: In that time, the pain reached monstrous levels and I had two ten day periods in 5 weeks. I was put on a different round of hormones, suffered through a vaginal sonogram, was put on prescription painkillers - a scary prospect for me as I'd been addicted to prescription painkillers for several years and had kicked it cold turkey - and sent to see a OB/GYN specialist. By this time I was literally in constant pain. I'm not exaggerating here people, I do mean constant excruciating pain.
The sonogram results, as explained to me by the specialist, showed only one friggin' fibroid and it wasn't in a place that should cause pain. In short, he had no idea why I was hurting and bleeding so much. I couldn't believe it. I explained to him what it felt like, how something must be wrong, that this couldn't be normal. He suggested that I increase my folic acid intake. I wanted to rip his balls off. Luckily for him, my wonderful subby was there holding my hand as I cried and raged. Next step ... another specialist who was so very busy that I couldn't see him until January 25, 2011. This was late November.
I spent the next two and a half months sitting on my couch drugged out of my mind, still in terrible pain as the painkillers only took the edge off, sleep deprived since I only got about 2 hours sleep each day, (when I was able to sleep), terrified I was going to become an addict again and counting the days until January 25th. I was as weak as a kitten and moving the slightest bit increased the pain. Brian had to do everything for me and rarely left me alone. Luckily, he's a carpenter/handyman and didn't have a boss to report to, but he did cut down on work drastically. In mid-December, during an ER trip because of the pain, I made him my Health Care Proxy (HCP) because we realized I was too drugged, sleep deprived and weak to make sense of anything the doctors said to me or make decisions. There were several such trips to the ER when I just couldn't take the pain anymore, even with the pills and had to be given multiple injections of morphine. Or, I'd bleed for days and days, usually at least 10, and was becoming anemic. It was a living hell...
It goes without saying that the lifestyle BDSM aspect of our lives went on an extreme hiatus. I was Brian's Domme in name only; often, I could barely speak much less command or punish. He took charge of our home and took care of me, not as his Domme, but as the woman he loves. I could not be more grateful to him for the love and support he showered upon me. I trusted him with my life in making him my HCP and have no regrets. He stayed involved in BDSM online and noted in many forums, chats and posts that subs/slaves often asked what one would do if one's Domme/Dom became ill. He was disgusted that people even asked that and I explained to him that for some subs/slaves the notion of seeing the Domme/Dom in a weakened state was a problem. These types of people need to see their Domme/Dom as all-powerful, all the time. Yet, here he was, essentially in charge of me and he thought no less of me as his Domme. Lifestyle BDSM is a commitment, a loving relationship built on levels of trust that I sometimes wonder if those in vanilla relationships understand. And before a person is Domme/Dom, Mistress/Master, sub/slave or whatever, that person is just that ... a person, a human being with strengths, weaknesses, fears, hopes and dreams. Seems more people need to remember that.
This is just part of what I've gone through in this last year ... More posts to come: History of a Hysterectomy Parts II and III and A Bunch of Other Shit That Made This Last Year Really Suck.
Painful and heavy periods were not foreign to me but starting around February 2010, they became unbearable. I had truly lovely pelvic exam and was put on a pill to stop me from bleeding to death and hormone therapy which would allow only 4 periods per year. As usual, the pelvic exam results were normal and my cervix and uterus were a lovely happy fertile pink. The hormone therapy worked until October/November: In that time, the pain reached monstrous levels and I had two ten day periods in 5 weeks. I was put on a different round of hormones, suffered through a vaginal sonogram, was put on prescription painkillers - a scary prospect for me as I'd been addicted to prescription painkillers for several years and had kicked it cold turkey - and sent to see a OB/GYN specialist. By this time I was literally in constant pain. I'm not exaggerating here people, I do mean constant excruciating pain.
The sonogram results, as explained to me by the specialist, showed only one friggin' fibroid and it wasn't in a place that should cause pain. In short, he had no idea why I was hurting and bleeding so much. I couldn't believe it. I explained to him what it felt like, how something must be wrong, that this couldn't be normal. He suggested that I increase my folic acid intake. I wanted to rip his balls off. Luckily for him, my wonderful subby was there holding my hand as I cried and raged. Next step ... another specialist who was so very busy that I couldn't see him until January 25, 2011. This was late November.
I spent the next two and a half months sitting on my couch drugged out of my mind, still in terrible pain as the painkillers only took the edge off, sleep deprived since I only got about 2 hours sleep each day, (when I was able to sleep), terrified I was going to become an addict again and counting the days until January 25th. I was as weak as a kitten and moving the slightest bit increased the pain. Brian had to do everything for me and rarely left me alone. Luckily, he's a carpenter/handyman and didn't have a boss to report to, but he did cut down on work drastically. In mid-December, during an ER trip because of the pain, I made him my Health Care Proxy (HCP) because we realized I was too drugged, sleep deprived and weak to make sense of anything the doctors said to me or make decisions. There were several such trips to the ER when I just couldn't take the pain anymore, even with the pills and had to be given multiple injections of morphine. Or, I'd bleed for days and days, usually at least 10, and was becoming anemic. It was a living hell...
It goes without saying that the lifestyle BDSM aspect of our lives went on an extreme hiatus. I was Brian's Domme in name only; often, I could barely speak much less command or punish. He took charge of our home and took care of me, not as his Domme, but as the woman he loves. I could not be more grateful to him for the love and support he showered upon me. I trusted him with my life in making him my HCP and have no regrets. He stayed involved in BDSM online and noted in many forums, chats and posts that subs/slaves often asked what one would do if one's Domme/Dom became ill. He was disgusted that people even asked that and I explained to him that for some subs/slaves the notion of seeing the Domme/Dom in a weakened state was a problem. These types of people need to see their Domme/Dom as all-powerful, all the time. Yet, here he was, essentially in charge of me and he thought no less of me as his Domme. Lifestyle BDSM is a commitment, a loving relationship built on levels of trust that I sometimes wonder if those in vanilla relationships understand. And before a person is Domme/Dom, Mistress/Master, sub/slave or whatever, that person is just that ... a person, a human being with strengths, weaknesses, fears, hopes and dreams. Seems more people need to remember that.
This is just part of what I've gone through in this last year ... More posts to come: History of a Hysterectomy Parts II and III and A Bunch of Other Shit That Made This Last Year Really Suck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)