The Little Things

Something clicked for me this morning, and maybe it started a while ago, but life is starting to make sense. For the first time in my life I think I fully recognize the little things that make up the big picture. The small action steps -- or even action steps of the mind -- make a big difference. That small no to a negative thought, the breath of calm after nerves begin to fray, that one paragraph a day to make a novel, the one phone call (or fifty) to build your business, all of it to meet the big goal.

My big goal is me. As I've said before, "I have to be the type of woman to attract..." In the post I was talking about attract a certain type of man, but I believe the same for the rest of my life -- friends, work, finances, service, etc. Like attracts like, you get what you give, plain and simple. But for the first time I recognize and accept who I am now, even as I strive for better. I accept because the actions I take now will aid in who I want to become, how I ultimately want to act (as second nature), and what I want in return.

I am blessed, and I am grateful. 

The Rising

As I take a deep breath... it feels good to mostly be back. I'm getting better at walking with a cane, but because my posture is shot to hell I still use crutches -- but I bear weight on my leg as much as possible.

Writing about Sunday and how I felt helped so immensely. Coupled with the fact that I've got my first physical therapy appointment later today... life is good. I'm still not feeling 100%, but I'm making strides. Everyday is a step forward -- literally.

In other news, this accurately sums up what I feel. On the bright side, I'm going to the grand opening of a running store this weekend. Motivation, ahoy!

Falling

I've hit a new personal low lately and the longevity of my mood is starting to piss me off. Considering the "new personal low" isn't that low I really should consider myself lucky, and I'm slowly coming around to how I can assess, recover, let go, and move forward -- for my sake.

What happened was this: on Sunday, my father sat me down and told me in his opinion I was taking advantage of him and his girlfriend and that I "needed to want it [recovery] more." When I asked the question of what he thought I should be doing more of, and there was no answer... I flipped out. The conversation triggered, especially from my father, the feeling of not being good enough. And I can admit that yes, I was enjoying the showering of attention and assertive care my father was providing, but let me be clear I said thank you at every opportunity, even are random moments -- just for allowing me to stay there and the care he was providing. Clearly, I didn't say it loud enough. Secondly, perhaps I was slipping into slight (and I do mean slight) complacency but that morning I had recognized it and was trying my best to correct it. Also, that complacency did not effect my recovery.

I had been doing PT on my own (attempted leg lifts-- only successful that Sunday morning --heel slides, and foot flexes to increase blood flow). Just that morning I had started using one crutch, although I did almost fall over and ask for my second crutch, no biggie. And the day before (Saturday) I had gotten my own breakfast. I had even tested myself Saturday afternoon without crutches or cane and took 6 very wobbly steps. You know what my father said to that news? Oh, you're going to push yourself too hard. So, yes, Sunday's talk hurt and was emotionally exhausting. To make matters worse when I got upset and tried to talk to him... all I got was a wall of "I'm done" and calling me my mother's and step-mother's names. To say it was petty and hurtful doesn't even touch upon it.

Eventually it was resolved by me getting a ride home. Too add confusion to an already fucked up situation my dad wanted me to stay another night. Because telling me he wanted me to be more independent wasn't his goal... he wanted to see me being independent  I'm still scratching my head over that one. So, I went home. Have been home since then. It's hard, and now I'm doing damage control.

It was MY decision to push myself.

It was MY decision to not listen to my gut and do something stupid.

To prove what? That I'm better than he is? being better than him in my eyes is no contest as long as I stay true to myself, and I failed myself big time. And now I am reaping the consequences. Because of my stupid actions on Monday my knee, once normal looking, swelled up to look like when took off the bandages and the swelling won't go down. The doctor said it was OK, completely normal and even said the stitches could come out.

What bothers me the most about this is I'm still carrying it around. I'm second guessing myself and that is NOT OK. My intuitive compass has become skewed and I want it back.

Recovery Recap #2

I am so blessed and so grateful to be where I am right now. My healing is doing well, progressing a little slower that I would like but my knee looks better and better. Still being at my dad's has been so helpful, although I'm hoping in the next few days I'll be able to go home. Days 2 and 3 of recovery were a little rough and I experienced the exaggerated pain of my body healing. It's still painful, but I can at least be grateful it is healing pain. Pain that I am familiar with -- on a much larger scale. 

The weirdest thing has been learning to trust my knee again. I still can't be on it for very long, and depending on where the pain scale is sometimes I can't even touch foot to floor. When I can put weight on it I have to coax my brain into it. And training my body to do it with moderately good posture too is one of the strangest feelings in the world. Today I can start learning to walk. Today is the day I should start creating a schedule, acclimating back into life, not spending all day watching Army Wives (of which I am terribly addicted to now). 

Life does not pause when events like this happen and I have an interesting road ahead of me. There comes a time to step up, and this is that time. I intend to use it to my advantage and will try my best to stay positive and productive. Hallelujah! 

Recovery Day ReCap #1

Whooo I am in the thick of it now! As the nerve block wore off in the late morning I found that pain began to form. No biggie at that point; I began to ice, took another pain killer, and went to take a nap. When I had woken up I noticed my bandages were super loose. As a result, they hung DIRECTLY ON MY KNEE. Let me tell you, that is painful. The pressure and friction it creates directly on the sutures... this morning I could barely get back into bed the soreness was so bad. And that was after I broke down and tightened the bandages last night so it wasn't so heavy on my knee. I do have to admit it was better than yesterday, though.

In short, healing is happening, and the pain is nothing to cry home about --just exaggerated, routine soreness -- but until tomorrow when I can take OFF these dang bandages, I'm going to move as little as possible. Because that's basically what sets the whole thing off. And it's fracking annoying.

The Morning After

Good morning internet neighbors! Well, I'm back from an uber successful surgery and I am just amazed. The only delay in my recovery is because I was in so much pain after coming out of surgery they gave me a nerve block. BUT! Just this morning I was able to put about 30% of my weight on my leg with the aid of crutches -- and go to the bathroom by myself (I cannot tell you how happy I am about that).

The day kind of started out with a little drama with my parents and escalated after the surgery. The original plan was that my mom was going to pick me up and I would spend the night with her, and then she would drive me back down to my dad's and go to work. I knew my mom has been under some pressure and how valuable she is to her work, so yesterday morning I called my Dad asking if I could go home with him, since my mom seemed a little stressed. Before I could get a chance to call my mom I get a call from her asking what the heck that was all about.

Obviously the situation could have been handled better and what made it worse is I kept flipping my decision to try and please my mom once I saw how angry she was. Unbeknownst to me, she had called work asking for Tuesday AND Wednesday off so she could care for me. I love her, but I weighed my options and I knew all I would be thinking about at my mom's would be to clean her house (she lives alone in the desert with her two dogs AND works 6 days a week -- cleaning is low on her priority). My dad's house is clean, in an area with a better climate and he's a far better cook. Also, the rooms are more spacious and thus, better for crutch navigation. And most importantly, I wanted to test myself. My dad has been telling me nothing but "how bad his knee pain and recovery" was. I wanted a chance to stick up for myself and tell him that NOT how my recovery was going to be. I wanted to tell my dad the truth, rather than cringe and hide like I've been doing.

I just didn't know how to communicate that to my mother.

I know I hurt her feelings pretty badly and she became more angry than I have seen her in over 10 years. I got yelled at twice last night and cried both times. The worst part was the things she said. Yes, some were true, but I didn't voice which ones were not true to me. We're still talking, and I wouldn't exactly say there's tension, but I'm confused on how to proceed.

I know I made the right decision and it is a gorgeous day outside so I think I'll take my book, tea, water and lounge outside in the sun. Hooray for mobility!

The Good Day

Lord, my surgery day is upon me and I know you have already cast the perfect outcome: A successful and harmonious event and swift healing time. I ask you bless me with the drive and the wisdom to come back strong, more able and willing to care for my body, mind and soul. I accept all that is for my highest good and with each breath I know you are fully expanding in my life presented more perfectly than I can imagine. Thank you, God, for this beautiful life you have gifted me with!

Amen!

Today is the day! It's finally arrived! I'm so excited and all prepped (I think) for the recovery time. I'm quite confident that everything will be successful because today is TWO birthdays that I know and it is the 25th anniversary of Sir J and his wife (Happy Anniversary you two kinky love birds)!  Below is a playlist I have compiled to celebrate the day. To keep the joyous mood going. Plus, I'm hoping it'll hold you guys over for a few days while I recover, but you never know -- I could be well and lucid and be posting something tomorrow!


1)

BIllie Holiday - Getting Some Fun Out Of Life .mp3 Found at bee mp3 search engine

2) note: this song is by Pink Martini

Soundtrack - Let's Never Stop Falling In Love .mp3 Found at bee mp3 search engine

3)

Two Door Cinema Club - Something Good Can Work .mp3 Found at bee mp3 search engine

4)


5)

Want v. Need

Lately certain urges have been creeping up, certain longings for companionship and domination. But that's not necessarily what is good for me at this time.

I want a man, a Dom, a partner to match my own desires.

I need to focus on my healing, my life before I can seek another intimate perspective.

It’s been too long. The tactics I had regarding sex before discovering how amazing it can be no longer work (i.e. ignoring it). I LOVE being submissive; I LOVE the building of trust; I LOVE giving my mind willingly to someone for them to extract the best play; I LOVE seeing the delight, the sadism of my Dom. I love it all and I want it again.

There is a little snag – beyond my knee – I can’t, I refuse, my relations to be “casual.” It’s just not me. I’m pretty old fashioned in the courtship department: man approaches woman, man opens doors for woman, man orders meal for woman (eventually), and pays for dinner. When the ice is broken, a bond is formed… then things can be relaxed but I have always been on board with the HOH lifestyle (even before I knew what it was) and I think the man I want should reflect that in his dating style.

It still boils down to I have to be the type of woman to attract that type of man. If I want to attract a put-together man who is Dominant and takes charge, I have to be willing to build certain characteristics and practices within myself to be able to attract that dynamic partner I’ve always wanted. To be respected and cared for, I have to respect and care for myself first. 

At the very least, I’m ready to date again. So Lord, please send me delicious men to date, please. I at least would like to laugh with and would like to be sought out by a man I desire. Thank you. 

Manageable Pain

Whew... two days until the surgery. So nervous. So excited. So hopeful. 

The closer I get to the surgery the more I hear talk about "manageable pain" or people "living with the pain." My knee jerk reaction was why the hell would I want to do that?! And then I had to take a step back and realize what my proclivities are.

It does not matter if it is the blissful, hot burn of muscles after a good run, the heart-pounding baptism of cold, sharp air hitting my lungs, the flush of presenting myself to my Dom, the warm sting as his belt makes its mark on my bare bottom, the sharp stab I feel as I step, or the uncomfortable strain of ligaments stretched just so, past normal -- they are all the same at their base. They are sensations.

And it's just a matter of how my brain decides to translate them.

I'm still torn between thinking there is good pain and there is bad pain, but recently I've been gifted with the experience that they can be one in the same. To me, manageable pain means a pain that drives me, a pain that is good for me, that can be useful or reminds me of a secret intimate moment. Manageable pain is good pain. It is something I can work with. And this knee injury has really pushed my boundaries as far as what pain means to me. It is now something I can work with.

So maybe, just maybe, all pain is good pain.

Or maybe that's the Oxycodone talking (but here's to hoping its not).

Meeting the Poppy

I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I know the adventure isn't over yet. Each day has been a blessing, a challenge and right now all I can do is smile.

I AM ALIVE.

THANK YOU, GOD. 

I have been prescribed Oxycodone to hold me over until the surgery, because a straight opiate is basically the only thing left to give me after my allergies. What amazed me is that for a 5 day timeframe the doctor allowed me to take home 40 of those little pills. Something regulated and known to be addictive. I was fearful, knowing my father's history (note: father's history. At my age and experience I really should learn to distinguish his troubles from my own) -- but I digress. It would appear, I have (yet again) nothing to fear. While the oxycodone does it's job, my body felt numb, and I had some of the worst stomach pains I've had in a while.

While that experience was unpleasant, just like everything else there are things that can be done about it. I've been mandated an even stricter diet (more fiber, no dairy) and something to coat the lining of my stomach. I have chosen to take half of a pill and see how it is, I have chosen to have a healthier diet not just because of the medication (although that is a nice perk), I have chosen to have a positive attitude.

I've chosen to take care of myself the best that I can, and that makes me happy.

A Prayer (3)

Dear Lord, I ask for your help today and tomorrow to give me the strength and patience for a productive and wonderful day. I want to thank you for this healthy body you have given me, and the healthy mind to turn my thoughts to joy and happiness, even in times of stress or unease. Heavenly Father, I give thanks for the smooth path that you have laid before me. Lift me of any discomfort and fear I may experience for I know in my heart that you are all, the Universal Source and all things are blessed by your touch. My life is overflowing with goodness and I know I am filled with the Infinite Love that is you. I allow the Light of God to cascade into my life, expanding and presenting more perfectly that my imagination can conceive. I release this word into the Infinite and give thanks, knowing all my needs are met and exceeded.  

Amen. 

Just Because

I've been in hiding for the last couple of days for a variety of reasons, mostly prepping for surgery and feeling sorry for myself. Life without painkillers has been interesting, and thankfully I'm doing OK, but it's exhausting. Anyhoo, if you're a fan of George Takei you'll have seen this already but it was too fun to pass up. Especially because now more than ever I would love for a partner to tie me up, kiss me, and call me dirty things. It would be a great stress reliever. Almost as good as a good run. Blarhghtrefph [melts into puddle of goo]

Turned On

A lovely twist has occurred in my life. That growing wetness from my knee pain has blossomed into near 24/7 horniness. I still do not like walking as it hurts like hell, but oh.... When I am at rest and my knee is throbbing, my cunt has begun to do the same.

For the first time since I was with a man I was horny and wet at work. For near my entire shift. My life has begun to mend itself and as my surgery and recovery time draws closer, all appears to be falling perfectly in place. And the sexual side... has been luxurious.

Momentarily my mind is bathing in the soft after glow of a peak so delicious, so thrilling, all my body wants to do is please. It would be the moment I would slink down my man's body and lick, suck, tease as best I could until he was hard again (if he were not already). Until we could ignite the tempo, celebrate the pain and roughness, revel in the sounds we produce and collapse all over again.

Ah, yes. That is the life.

An Adventure in Exercise

A happy post -- yay!

Yesterday I had a day off of work and it was sunny (a weird break from all this rain we've been having) and after a suggestion from Sir J I decided I should try to swim. I reassessed why it hurt the first time, figured it could all be adjusted, grabbed my DryCase, towel, goggles, wetsuit (the pool isn't heated) and swim suit, and gingerly eased my way in. 

tools of the trade

The compression of the wetsuit helped stabilize my knee as well as acting as a floating device. My range of motion was compromised, but I doggy paddled my hynie off for 20 minutes! It was beautiful, relaxing, exhausting, and wonderful. I would have loved to have swim for longer, but my knee began to throb. Getting out of the pool was the most difficult and I did notice that my shoulders hurt from the unuse, but it was the sweet lactic acid feeling that is so familiar to me.

It occurred me that my athletic dreams have been heightened, made more sacred by my knee injury and I am so blessed to have this new drive. To cherish my body, to know how I can push it, and golly... that makes me happy.

Also, it would appear that my brain really has apparently crossed the wire and thinks any knee pain is now arousing, except only to my vagina. So, that's new. But hey, like the song of this video (consequently a promo for the last race I ran before the injury) -- "anything can happen."


Last Thoughts: I've got running on the brain. Also, sex.

Transition Time

Well... where do I begin?

Do I write about how last night I ran out of pain medication and what ensued? (I blacked out, but I do remember transcending the pain before unconsciousness. Apparently I texted J #3, of which I only vaguely remember. Oh and called, according to my phone. Hm.)

Do I write about how the doctor wants me to take 1/4 dose of what I have been taking for, I theorize, fear of addiction? (They were the ones saying I could take 2 each time and I'm nowhere near the point of addiction, but I can see where he is coming from. Still sucks. Yarg!)

Do I write about how since "transcending the pain," despite my knee still hurting something fierce, I have been SOPPING WET all day? (I feel like the first time I got spanked and found out how wet I was... this is all so confusing.)

Do I write about how my surgery is FINALLY scheduled for May 21? (Well, that was easy)

Or do I write about how scared I have gotten? How every night I feel as if I should be doing more with my life, that I can be doing more with my life, but don't know where to start?

Deep fears have been triggered, but I'm ready to stop this cycle of daily regeneration. I'm ready to go to bed loving life rather than exhausted and feeling shitty about myself just because of external circumstances. I want to keep the joy, the happiness I feel when I wake up, sustained throughout the day.

I'm tired of being all blargh all the time. I hate being blargh. I'm not blargh. (She says in a whiney voice as she thinks of chocolate ice cream for comfort)

But seriously, I know it's all going to be OK, I just have to rethink how I do/think things. Change is always good.

Chalet Girl

I cannot express what painful hell I am in at the moment. And I'm at work (and still being as nice and helpful as ever, don't ask how I'm doing it -- I have no idea). And I have already taken my painkillers. Part of me thinks I'm ready for childbirth after this. Or, well, anything at this point. I'm a resilient mother fucker and am overcoming great things.

Sorry to be so crass, it's how I'm coping. However! To distract myself, I am going to talk about the little gifts that have been presented to me despite my situation. Because this is what I need to do to stay sane. Also, count my blessings.

So yesterday afternoon I watched a B movie called Chalet Girl, a washed up story of the poor maid-girl (with equally tragic backstory) lusting after the the rich son of the house. Except with a twist! She learns to snowboard! And (gasp) is instantly great at it! OK, you can tell I couldn't really care about the plot, but what the movie did do for me was strengthen my love for snowboarding again.

"shredding" some fresh pow-pow!

I was first introduced to snowboarding by J #2 back in 2010. I really liked it, but was not very good at it. As a gift, he bought me boots and a snowboard. As the relationship fell apart I wasn't into it anymore as I thought it was mostly his thing and just wanted to get out of the dysfunctional household. So I left all my boarding stuff behind. Turns out I liked snowboarding a lot more than I thought because I kept longing to get my stuff back and figured he had given it away or sold it. Turns out, I was wrong.

Hallelujah!

My pretty pretty board

I am very happy to announce that after a very cordial e-mail communication I was notified all my snow stuff is still in the guest bedroom closet and I can pick up all of it anytime. I won't be able to board before this season in over, but yahoo! Next year I want to make at least three trips.

Come to think of it... I wonder how the soreness and bruising from the physical exertion of snowboarding would feel in combination with a delightful play session.... ?

Disclaimer: These photos were taken in 2010 and my hair is not blond, I bleached the the ends.

The Dawn of a New Day

I'm beginning to develop a hypothesis that my knee pain and my stress levels are intrinsically combined at the moment. One of the owners at the boutique I work at (I work two jobs) is out of town so my hours have been raised. Being on it more all week as well as being silly and walking up and down the stairs to my condo.... well, let's just say putting pressure on my leg makes me want to scream.

So it really shouldn't have come as a surprise that yesterday my mind went a little nuts. I'm ashamed to say how dark my thoughts went. I debated, weighed in whether I want to write what I thought, and yes. Solely for the purpose of recognizing I thought these things, felt these things, but by morning I came back. No chip on my soul, no weight baring me down. I am indeed refreshed and renewed. Back to my best self.

I acted on one of those thoughts, kind of. I don't know how, but I remembered his number and called it, in the hopes that I could have him reget me, tell me how little he cares about me again (he didn't answer, the lovely man. Thank you!). I was in so much pain emotionally, so hollow and empty (and yes, my knee pain was growing as the afternoon/ night went on)... I even had thoughts of giving myself up to him, just to use, no pleasure for me. None. The thinking there was, well, I already felt violated and used, might as well just let him have me. I almost drove over there, but the fact remains I didn't. I didn't act on those dark and scary thoughts, I rode them out until I was tired and fell asleep.

Every time I think I've hit a new low, touched a psychologically darker part of myself I always forget how easily I can let go and feel better the next day. That my recovery time from such, we'll call them hiccups (it sounds so much more dainty), gets shorter each time and I feel stronger, more ready to confront the day, my life. More willing and able to handle things appropriately, in a healthy manner.

This is my story, and I choose to rewrite my life for the better.

Sexy Time?

Shame? Disconnection? Resignation?

Today was the first day that I've pleasured myself since really truly letting him go. Due to varying things I just never got to that point. I've fantasized, let my thoughts flow to whatever decadent corner they please and have been excited, but I just never felt the urge.

Until today.

Whether it was my body's natural way to cope with the pain or triggered by faerie's post and looking at my own pool... well my hand gravitated to my drawer of toys and my mind began to travel.

It was simple, at first, being led by my hand to a hidden room, a wondrous room filled with soft tables, cuffs, and varying implements that would make my skin sting, burn, and tingle. I was naked, yet my master was fully clothed. He wasn't anyone in particular, just mine. My man. My partner in our secret delights. His hands ran all over my body, guiding me to the plush table, bending me over, tweaking my nipples as he traveled to my buttocks.

It slowly built like this, a tease with slaps from his hands, bites from his teeth, a spreader bar between my legs and my arms bound above me. As my thoughts grew, so did my climax and soon I was almost there, breathing hard and actually moaning out loud. That's when something shifted. I was in a different room, a different hand -- Josiah's hand, Josiah's voice egging me on. Swiftly I was turned over and saw his face, with that devious grin he got when he would play with me. And felt him enter me.

And then I came. Hard. A split second later I realized what had happened and began to cry. I felt violated, like I had been raped by my own imagination. As I made myself breathe, took deep breaths to calm myself, my stomach began to churn violently. The warning signs were there and I knew where I needed to go. My gag reflex took over and I threw up. Absently I brushed my teeth, stepped into the shower and went about washing myself as well as I could -- anything I could do to feel clean again. Fresh, renewed, unsullied.

Even hours afterwards I am still trying to make peace with myself. I truly hadn't thought romantically about him since I sent him a thank you letter and gave him back our sex tape. He was just a guy I had dated. Hell, even in my errant dream I had about him the other night he was just a guy I had bumped into, a passing face I had forgotten until hugged me and said "hi." Actually, to be more accurate, when he bumped into me I recognized I was dreaming and made a weird face asking him, "what are you doing here? And more to the point, when do I dream about grocery shopping (or something equally as mundane, details are fuzzy)? My dreams are way more adventurous."

I recognize that he is my first Dom, the first man to ignite and satisfy me sexually, and as such there are things that bound me to him more so than previous break-ups and therefore a different grieving process. Especially when it comes to sex. But what happened just felt wrong. So the question is, how do I have a healthy sexual appetite, without my subconscious bringing back my only frame of amazing sex reference? 

Moving Past the Old Ways

So I'm in this weird place right now. Maybe it's because I told my tenants I was coming by to take pictures of the place and it's a PIG STYE. I get that they're in transition of moving, but dang. Maybe that was just the tipping point.

What's really got me really on edge is that as when I hit this bump my old, frankly dysfunctional coping mechanisms came back out. Zoning out on Netflix for hours on end, eating fried chicken (I'm a vegetarian, for the most part), skipping meals, then binge eating. The real kicker is that even though they've come back out, they don't have the same effect they used to. I know people slip up, fall off the wagon, fall back on what they know, but now I know that doesn't work for me anymore.

And I've been feeling a little adrift.

Basically I have to learn healthy coping mechanisms, and I'm not exactly sure where to start.

Well, maybe I know one. And I'm grateful there are eyes to read it.

Thanks all.

Tearin' Down the Wall

Part of me wanted to add "bitches" to that title. But I'm far too white to pull that off.


Anyhoo, I've been approved for surgery!!!

My worker's comp nurse called me just an hour before to tell me the good news and despite today's pain this was pretty much the reaction in my head:

CELEBRAAAAAAAAATE!

This is more how I will be celebrating:

you know, for practice. 

I've been feeling much more myself lately -- actually reading running magazines, going about my life almost as normally as without my knee being fercockteed (that's a technical term, right there) and this news just confirms it. The gal who schedules the surgery is out for the day, but on Monday I can start hounding her to put me down for a surgery appointment! Yaaaaaay!