(As I mention at the end of this post, tomorrow's entry will have lots of sex with the man with the biggest cock I've ever seen. Seriously. But first ...)
Tired.
That’s the word to describe me right now. It’s been a long week full of high ups and a few rather low downs.
Where do I start? Right now, I’m waiting for my mood-altering drugs to kick in. Valproic acid is what I’m on. It’s for treating symptoms of bi-polar disorder, and it’s been great and getting me out of my depression. The problem is … it’s sometimes easy to forget that I’m reliant on a drug to keep me sane. I’m supposed to take it several times during the day and before I go to bed at night, and I didn’t take it today (I forgot) and … I’m feeling extremely depressed right now. I feel like an ugly bitch who should be removed from the gene pool. I actually seriously considered doing that several times last year during my year of darkness, during which I sank to the most horrible depths of depression. It may sound amazing, but nobody realized that I was bi-polar until this year, and even then it wasn't until recently that my psychiatrist figured out the right strength of the right drug to prescribe me. The only reason I’m alive today is because of my children. And even when I thought of them during my time of depression, I sometimes thought they would be better off without me. I once finally had enough, and I was about to drive to the mountains and throw myself off a cliff. I even knew the exact place I’d go. Beautiful and picturesque with a half-mile drop-off straight down. But I wanted to say goodbye to my kids. And when I went to their home, they weren’t there. Turns out they were at a doctor’s appointment with my ex, and then they went to my ex’s parents for dinner, and when I tried to call my ex didn’t pick up the phone. And by the time they got home I had changed my mind.
People tell me I’m beautiful, but I know they’re lying. If you look at me from the right angle, I’m pretty, I guess. But I have an incredibly thick neck and heavy jowls, and my face is flat and my nose is wide. And my body is squat and big-boned. I look like a cavewoman. *sighs and shrugs* Or maybe I’m being bigoted and prejudiced without knowing it. By some accounts, I would fit in wonderfully among Mongoloid people, and if I lived among the Inuit (Eskimos), I might be considered a true gem. I really don’t know anything about my ancestors beyond my grandparents, particularly on my Mother’s side, and she had quite a few features that looked rather non-Caucasian. So who knows? I hate the way our culture tells us what’s beautiful and what’s not, and in America if you don’t look like a North Western European young beauty queen, then you aren’t worth shit as a woman. But I’ve been fed that crap since I was a baby and I’ve been hypnotized into believing it, and it affects how I feel about myself. *sighs again*
Hmm. My pills must be taking effect, because I just looked in the mirror, and I don’t think I look mind-bogglingly ugly. I actually look a little appealing, in a Russian-weight-lifter-woman kind of way.
Having your brain’s chemicals shift on you in the middle of your life really sucks, I’ll say. Before I go any further, however, I want to make one thing clear – my desiring to be a slave doesn’t have to do with that. Or, if it does, it means my brain’s chemicals have been slowly shifting for a long time. As (I think) I mentioned in an earlier blog, I first realized I have a slave heart and wanted to be a slave full time about three and a half years ago, soon after discovering Gor online in SecondLife and finding out that people practice that lifestyle for real. My chemical shift (which happened spring of last year), however, possibly crystallized that feeling and got me to where I truly need an Owner to survive in the world. Somebody to take responsibility for me while allowing me to spend my life serving their needs and obeying their commands. Am I running away from the world? No, running away was what I did when I was on SecondLife 18-hours-a-day last year. Now I’m just embracing something different that fits the new me. The woman who used to be able to have a career, and now wants nothing more than to just do what she’s told. Okay, I was never good at holding down a career, I’ll tell you that. Everything I am today was in me from my childhood in so many ways. But now it’s firmly at the surface, shaping my life completely. I’m simple in a lot of ways. Even childlike. I long to be a little girl at my parent’s home again. Okay, maybe I am wanting to run away from my old life and responsibilities. But maybe that’s because I simply can’t mentally handle my old life and responsibilities anymore. Is that necessarily bad? I don’t think so, especially if I somehow find happiness out of it and make the world, through my service, a better place – even if just for a few people.
Okay, time to hit the week’s events. I didn’t write at all for several days because nothing much slave related was happening. I had an interview at a software company last Wednesday, and I thought it was the best interview I’ve had since I got laid off a year and a half ago. I thought they loved me there. The next day they wrote me back and told me they didn’t like me and didn’t say why. *sighs* Wednesday night I went to a networking event with a direct-marketing association to try and drum up business for my copywriting services. A lot of people there were extremely nice and one person even told me he wanted me to ghost write a book about fitness for his company. Nothing’s come of any of it yet. They guy who said he wanted to hire me wrote me today and said a customer of his agreed to do the job, for what I expect will be a ton of credit in company merchandise. *rolls her eyes*
Thursday afternoon Mistress and I made a final trip to the old house for some last-minute stuff. I’m incredibly puzzled because she’s nonchalantly leaving some important expensive items, such as her former step-son’s gun cabinet, which I’m assuming is full of rifles (I’ve never seen inside it). I went back on my own Friday late afternoon (with Mistress’s permission. Well, she told me she didn’t care if I went) to get some of her things, but after looking around I came back and told Mistress I decided not to get anything she had left behind because it wasn’t my place as a slave to try to impose on her anything she doesn’t want to have in her life anymore … and she said I was totally right, and we haven’t spoken of the topic since.
Friday morning I spent with my kids and had a fantastic time. Pancakes from scratch, playing in the backyard, playing on dinosaurs at the mall, building sandcastles in a giant sandbox, playing chess against my son (and losing rather quickly! *grins*), and overall having a great day.
And that leads to … Saturday, which was the arrival of one of Mistress’s dearest friends and deepest loves, a man I’ll call Master J. And since that was the beginning of one of the most sex-intensive and slave-dedicated days I’ve ever had, I’ll stop here and write that separately tomorrow in a posting all about what’s happened during his time here.
Until then, toodles!
And, always, la kajira!!!
*bounces happily*
p.s. Okay, the mood-controlling drugs are in full effect, it seems. I just looked in the mirror and, although I know I’m not gorgeous, I’m actually starting to think I look sort of cute for a middle-aged woman. And maybe even … sort of… sexy. *chuckles merrily*
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