Posts tagged ‘fear’

Finally!

A damn medical test that doesn’t find something wrong with me!!!  Yesterday’s colonoscopy found no polyps, no spots, no nothing beyond diverticula which we already know I had. YAY!!!

The procedure itself is nothing. The versed works like a charm. I remembered absolutely nothing although I am assured that I was awake. Upon regaining my senses I was aware of no tell tale signs for feelings that someone had been up my butt with a camera. LOL . Seriously, they cleaned me up so well that there wasn’t ever the slightest trace of KY (which I am sure they must have used at some point and no soreness or discomfort. Then again whatever they slipped up me would be a fraction of Maitre’s girth so there is no reason for me to be surprised. 

The “prep” for it was singularly unpleasant though. The absolute worst part being the sludge you have to drink. It tastes like sea water, you body doesn’t want to drink sea water. If any reading this has to deal with this? Here is my hot tip…. instant lemonade. It finally got 2 liters of the crap down me. And to think I was suppose to drink 3 of the 4 in the jug. There was no way on god’s green earth that was happening!!

Anyway, it’s so very nice to have undergone that and know I’m good, that the diverticulitis was just that and not some secondary effect of something evil growing in me.

On ward and up ward!!!

Remiss

I have been remiss in keeping up with any sort of posts. Though, I do wonder if it really matters in the grand scheme of things.  

I’ve been cleared for treatments.

We were waiting for my genetics recurrence score to come back. This score would have indicated whether or not I would want to consider. The resulting score came back low as expected. Not as low as I would like mind you. My chance or recurrence is 10% in 10 years. That is still a fair bit more than I would like. Look around you next time you are in a group of people. Isolate 10… 1 in 10 would have a recurrence.  

So… I need to go fill my Tamoxifen prescription and I start radiation not next week but the week after.  I’m struggling with the Tamoxifen which will throw me into a chemically induced menopause. I’m resenting the hell out of having my youth stripped from me.  I resenting having my skins elasticity stolen. I don’t want to get thick around the middle. I don’t want to become matronly. I’m hating this. 

But I need to remember it’s a small price to pay for staying alive.  Right? … yeah..well, it still sucks.

The Colour Green

Jealousy is a terrible thing.  It can eat at one and rip an otherwise sound relationships apart. It is wholly irrational.

 

It is generally based on ones own insecurities and poor self image (physical or emotional). Where it isn’t based on ones insecurities, but rather is based on the actions of ones partner instead, it is just as irrational because any partner that would genuinely act in such a way as to encourage jealousy is not worth being jealous over!

 

I was jealous today. I was jealous without reason and without cause. Implied in that jealousy was doubt in my Maitre. How could I have doubted a man who has done nothing but bend over backwards to make me feel loved and secure, has listened to my every insecurity and has welcomed my grief for another with a kind and gentle heart. He has worked hard to earn my respect and trust… yet I persist in keeping back bits and pieces of that trust.

 

A friend, whom I am so very thankful to have made through this blog, also pointed out the obvious to me. There are many, many submissives out in the world who are searching for a competent Dominant. I am lucky enough to not have simply found one who is competent but one who engages both his heart and his mind. Not only am I lucky enough to have found him but We are lucky enough to have something special that really works. I am not the only submissive out there, just as he is not the only Dominant. We both searched and turned away others because they were not the right fit.

 

We all have our fears. We all have our demons. But I feel like I have worked long and hard to conquer this one yet it persists.

 

Upon further thought, I’m not so sure I was jealous as I was insecure, convinced that I’m not good enough… it echo’s in my head.

Objecting in Scene

I found myself thinking about safe words today, thinking about boundaries and safe words.

I found myself wondering about the zone between safe-wording and play acting. Is there such a thing as objecting “in scene”? LOL. By objecting in scene I don’t mean “no” but not really meaning it. Instead I mean saying “no, please don’t” and meaning it but saying to my sadist, my Maitre…not my lover, friend and Daddy. Saying it and meaning it but still be willing to leave it at the discretion of Him. I know I could stop him on a dime, that is never in question. But I love the edges and I’m drawn to that place that you come to where you feel it in your soul. I want to cry and beg…nay plead, meaning every word of it but still have him decide if I can go just a bit further. I want to reach that edge of genuine loss of control and feel along its razor sharp finish. I want my tears to be real. I want my fear to be real. I want to beg and for it to be real.

Is this consensual non-consent or is it something different?

Just an update

I haven’t posted in a few days. I’ve naturally been a bit “preoccupied”. There are a few of you who I correspond with off line and a few who read on a semi regular basis so I thought I would put this out here.

I’ve met with the surgeon, he is very posisitive. The tumor is a slow growing variety and we caught it early. There is every reason to believe that in the long run I will be fine. It just might be a rough couple of months to get there.  

I go under the knife on Monday. I honestly have no idea of what to expect. I’ve never had surgery before and much of it depends on what they find. Hopefully there will be not ugly surprises and I’ll be home Monday evening. But since I have made some friends out here in cyberland I’ve asked Maitre to come out and post an update. I am by nature a worrier so I try to allay the worries of others.

I have to say the anxiety comes and goes… it is gone during the day and weighs heavy on me as the night wears on. Much of it is the suspense of waiting to see exactly what they will find. But then again there is the anxiety of worrying about what might turn up. Am I repeating myself?

I thought of a really clever post earlier but it went out my other ear I’m afraid. Hopefully, I can come up with something pithy or insightful to leave you with before the cut me open.

Have I mentioned this just fucking sucks?!

The Anima and The Animus

Anima and animus – Carl Jung

As Maitre once put it to me early on in our relationship… “I don’t think you believe that someone can actually treat you well and beat the crap out of you.”

He was right of course and that is what I really crave. I crave the pain but wrapped up in love, respect, and nurturing. I want the pain. I want to explore both physical and emotional pain…but I want to always know in my core of cores that I am safe, that I am wrapped up in love and that I will always come back to reality of being wanted.

And this is why I don’t just “bottom” because it isn’t about the pain on its own. It’s about the lovely juxtaposition of falling head long into the deepest darkest parts of ourselves only to come rushing back up to the surface and the pure joy and light of a warm and caring relationship.

I want to loose control and cower at the possibilities. I want to flinch (and do) when he raises his hand. I want to embrace fear. I want to embrace pain. I want to embrace worthlessness and humiliation. But will only do so, can only do so, if I know that on the other end are his warm strong loving arms.

I suspect we will never go to the deepest darkest places though I trust him to take me there and bring me back safely.  We won’t go these places unless something changes in our lives. I can’t even imagine going these places if I can’t reach out to him when I start to drop hard.  Hell, I drop hard enough as it sometime and struggle with our lives and schedules in those moments. I can’t begin to imagine being reduced to the level I long to and have to cope on my own later. In fact, I would say I don’t want to go these places unless we can spend a weekend at it. If we could have 48 hours locked away on our own, maybe a cabin in the woods, where he could reduce me completely and then build me back up… well, such are the things that fantasies are made of.

Letting In

Well, I’m letting another in to this sacred space. A “love interest” if you will.  As you read this my new friend, I hope you keep in mind that it is more like being given a chance to read another’s journal than anything else.  I don’t want to hold back because of who I share this with and I know you understand that but it will be hard not to censor myself. I worry that I am sharing too much too soon. I always seem to give so freely of myself and then often (not always) regret it later. I hope this won’t be the case.

I’m putting all this down in way of a preface because my conversations with him have prompted me to stop and think, to examine my fears and my longings.

Buddhist thought tells us that “want” is the source of all pain. I “want” to connect. This longing to connect makes me scared. Scared of being taken advantage of, scared of letting myself be “snowed”. Scared of giving of myself only to be trampled. This fear causes me pain. I don’t want to be scared, I don’t want to forever be doubting people. I want to trust, with my very soul I want to trust. This of course speaks to my longing to yield completely to another. It is a paradox, isn’t it? You long for the very thing you are terrified of and the only reason you are so terrified of it is because it means so much, your want is so deep, the need to deep. It’s almost like asking which came first the chicken or the egg. Which came first the need to trust and so the manifestation of that trust in yielding? Or did the desire to yield come first and has only been made keener and more poignant by growing up never being able to trust, seemingly always abandoned.