Sunday, 26 June 2011
Monday, 25 April 2011
playing ....
...the worlds smallest violin
I don't want to write this blog, I've put if off for days - I don't want "Oh you poor thing", "Oh sweetheart/hunni/*insert your own term of endearment*", or anything else barely resembling pity or *hugs*, don't get me wrong, I am hugely indebted to all the support I have and am being given and am little overwhlemed by it all - especially when someone offers to bunk off work and drive for 6 hours just to get me to a hospital appt, but what I don't want/ can't bear is lip service sympathy and so I say very little about my situation in terms of just how it affects daily life .. I may be a lot of things, but sad arsed moping emo I am not, yes this is now my life but I'm far from a poor thing, so please don't go there x
For reasons I don't feel the need to go in to, I'm not going to explain just how this thing started - except to say that on that night, the word no was ignored and from there to here my joints and bones have been slowly falling in to disrepair, a domino effect if you will - and the easiest way to begin explaining it is to drop in a pretty diagram ...
Every red arrow is an area of my pelvic region that is now fucked up beyond all recognition and what the diagram isn't showing is the other body parts affected by my "tilt", my knees are now taking more stress due to the lack of support for my spine, my achillies tendons are ready to snap due to the pressure they're now under .. the plus point is that while my shoulders now hate me, I am developing biceps that would rival popeyes as I now walk full time on crutches and my arms have become my "legs"
So that's the physical bit, old age came early to me
Several people recently have told me off for not admiting half of this, for keeping information to a minimum and for being too stubborn to say when it hurts or if I need help, trouble is, if I were to say when it hurts, that's all I would say and I cannot be that person, neither could I talk about having a teeny amount of surgery a few weeks ago or go in to any great detail about the sudden panic that I could have been growing more than a few extra facial hairs due to the PCOS.
Turns out, I'd been over doing it on the painkillers and pissed off my kidneys but while I was publically posting bucket lists and whatif tomorrow never comes blogs simply because it scared me just how unready I am for anything, there was a big fuss being made in the background questioning if something was growing in my back as I was losing limb sensation, was pretty sick all of the time and apparently was displaying rather alarming symptoms - gotta love the NHS, for everyones bitching about waiting lists and poor conditions, I can honestly say that the medics who have looked after me have been absolutely bloody brilliant - but I couldnt say anything to my friends, the bastard big C affects so many of them and I couldn't bring myself to say anything until I had all the facts.
So "how am I?" - in pain and terrified of what the future holds, pinning all of my hopes on sucessful treatment and rehab and very much looking forward to not losing sensation in my legs again - thats one freaking feeling, of not being too scared to stand up, of not being in fear of falling over and of throwing away the crutches and walking tall again.
I have been bloody miserable of late, so many things I have taken for granted are now out of reach, I'm back under psyc care because I have been suicidal for a while now - another reason I've not talked openly about how I feel .. no-one wants to hear "ready to give up" as a reply - it's not that I want to die, I'm just so tired of pain, of inability and of failure. I sit and read about friends going out, doing things, inviting me to join them and I just can't - hell, bathtime is an event all by itself I simply don't have it in me to go out and do things anymore.
I don't feel safe, I dont feel comfortable or confident and so I just don't. And I know that does me no favours long term, I tried going out today, had a panic attack before I'd even got out of bed just thinking about it but went and promptly spent 20 minutes trying to come up with a reaosn to get home as soon as possible. I am ashamed of that, I was five minutes away from home, sitting in a park on a glorious day but I couldn't breath and ended up bribing the boys with ice cream to get back to my sanctuary - as much as I let myself down with my depressive state, the boys suffer more so
They are so fantastic, they help out on chores I can no longer manage on my own, they bring cups of tea and a bucket on bad days, rub my back and help me up when I need a hand and make me cry in awe of just how incrediblely understanding of this situation they are - but its so unfair on them and my friends and family too who have to put up with me whinging and moaning on how life is - so thats why, when you ask .. how you doing, I'll do that thing whereby I say something about how lovely the weather/day is and reverse the question thus avoiding actually answering it because truth is .. right now, every day is a struggle, physically and emotionally, getting out of bed is an artform, functioning through the day without getting stoned off my tits on morphine is tiring, I hate the patheticness I've become.
I don't want to write this blog, I've put if off for days - I don't want "Oh you poor thing", "Oh sweetheart/hunni/*insert your own term of endearment*", or anything else barely resembling pity or *hugs*, don't get me wrong, I am hugely indebted to all the support I have and am being given and am little overwhlemed by it all - especially when someone offers to bunk off work and drive for 6 hours just to get me to a hospital appt, but what I don't want/ can't bear is lip service sympathy and so I say very little about my situation in terms of just how it affects daily life .. I may be a lot of things, but sad arsed moping emo I am not, yes this is now my life but I'm far from a poor thing, so please don't go there x
For reasons I don't feel the need to go in to, I'm not going to explain just how this thing started - except to say that on that night, the word no was ignored and from there to here my joints and bones have been slowly falling in to disrepair, a domino effect if you will - and the easiest way to begin explaining it is to drop in a pretty diagram ...
Every red arrow is an area of my pelvic region that is now fucked up beyond all recognition and what the diagram isn't showing is the other body parts affected by my "tilt", my knees are now taking more stress due to the lack of support for my spine, my achillies tendons are ready to snap due to the pressure they're now under .. the plus point is that while my shoulders now hate me, I am developing biceps that would rival popeyes as I now walk full time on crutches and my arms have become my "legs"
So that's the physical bit, old age came early to me
Several people recently have told me off for not admiting half of this, for keeping information to a minimum and for being too stubborn to say when it hurts or if I need help, trouble is, if I were to say when it hurts, that's all I would say and I cannot be that person, neither could I talk about having a teeny amount of surgery a few weeks ago or go in to any great detail about the sudden panic that I could have been growing more than a few extra facial hairs due to the PCOS.
Turns out, I'd been over doing it on the painkillers and pissed off my kidneys but while I was publically posting bucket lists and whatif tomorrow never comes blogs simply because it scared me just how unready I am for anything, there was a big fuss being made in the background questioning if something was growing in my back as I was losing limb sensation, was pretty sick all of the time and apparently was displaying rather alarming symptoms - gotta love the NHS, for everyones bitching about waiting lists and poor conditions, I can honestly say that the medics who have looked after me have been absolutely bloody brilliant - but I couldnt say anything to my friends, the bastard big C affects so many of them and I couldn't bring myself to say anything until I had all the facts.
So "how am I?" - in pain and terrified of what the future holds, pinning all of my hopes on sucessful treatment and rehab and very much looking forward to not losing sensation in my legs again - thats one freaking feeling, of not being too scared to stand up, of not being in fear of falling over and of throwing away the crutches and walking tall again.
I have been bloody miserable of late, so many things I have taken for granted are now out of reach, I'm back under psyc care because I have been suicidal for a while now - another reason I've not talked openly about how I feel .. no-one wants to hear "ready to give up" as a reply - it's not that I want to die, I'm just so tired of pain, of inability and of failure. I sit and read about friends going out, doing things, inviting me to join them and I just can't - hell, bathtime is an event all by itself I simply don't have it in me to go out and do things anymore.
I don't feel safe, I dont feel comfortable or confident and so I just don't. And I know that does me no favours long term, I tried going out today, had a panic attack before I'd even got out of bed just thinking about it but went and promptly spent 20 minutes trying to come up with a reaosn to get home as soon as possible. I am ashamed of that, I was five minutes away from home, sitting in a park on a glorious day but I couldn't breath and ended up bribing the boys with ice cream to get back to my sanctuary - as much as I let myself down with my depressive state, the boys suffer more so
They are so fantastic, they help out on chores I can no longer manage on my own, they bring cups of tea and a bucket on bad days, rub my back and help me up when I need a hand and make me cry in awe of just how incrediblely understanding of this situation they are - but its so unfair on them and my friends and family too who have to put up with me whinging and moaning on how life is - so thats why, when you ask .. how you doing, I'll do that thing whereby I say something about how lovely the weather/day is and reverse the question thus avoiding actually answering it because truth is .. right now, every day is a struggle, physically and emotionally, getting out of bed is an artform, functioning through the day without getting stoned off my tits on morphine is tiring, I hate the patheticness I've become.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Dear Liza ..
My bucket list ... things to do before I die, in no particular order
the list may continue to grow
- learn to horse-ride
- attend a proper dirty rock gig
- rally drive
- swim in the Indian ocean
- learn to knit
- abseil down Trevallen
- grow a Hydrangea bush
- go on a Tidy Weekender
- drive a tank
- pillion on a motorbike
- watch The Winter's Tale at the RSC
- holiday on Kos
- spend a weekend in an expensive hotel
- go pike fishing at Bosherton Lake
- travel on the Orient Express
- play bogeys with the boys in St Paul's
- take mum shrimping at Minnis Bay
- go kart down Meyrick St
- drink Guinness in Ireland
- ride a bike down Gold Hill
- take the boys to London
- stand on top of Snowdon
- go down a coal mine
- roller skate through Ricnmond Park
- fuck on the marble table in county hall
- go to the BBB
- buy a kiln
- hear dad say he is happy
- drive a bus
- eat an authentic tikka
- do a filthy/grungy b&w photo shoot in a wedding dress
- go to a music festival
- drink beer in Germany
- live on a canal boat
- have a party/ go out for dinner on my birthday
- build an aviary
- explore Doone country
- finish my coursework
- open a tea shop
the list may continue to grow
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Spring
So, spring is officially here, the clocks have gone forward - time marches on.
I haven't blogged for a while, I've got a few drafts saved but nothing publishable and I have my reasons for that - most of them are music links mixed in with a couple of bucket list thoughts and one was a full on, I'm off my tits on morphine and frankly don't give a flying fuck rant - about people using status updates to say how they are or to read up on how someone is - instead of actually pausing to call and ask or say.
Life has been rather chaotic of late, my social life now consists of more medical people and hospital appointments than my little diary can handle, my body has never been so in demand and my brain has become a little bit frazzled with it all. To unwind - I've been youtubing my ass off but there is also a purpose to it.
While putting my 'house in order' it struck me that scribbled notes and photographs simply aren't enough to keep memories alive and so I'm now on a mission to compile an audiable history. I want my boys to hear the music we used to slow dance to at 3am when they were colicky, remember the songs we used to sing along loudly to in the car and listen to the tunes that marked lifes occasions and with the help of a little bit of software and a microphone, I'm adding my own unique touch to some of those.
Some may consider it a rather morbid thing to be doing, but for now it's giving me a direction - some things can't be put off until the magical 'tomorrow' and so that is where I've been of late, in bed with the laptop - giving the speakers a thorough spring clean.
And to one of my dearest friends, for all of your support and time ... this is for you, thank you xx
I haven't blogged for a while, I've got a few drafts saved but nothing publishable and I have my reasons for that - most of them are music links mixed in with a couple of bucket list thoughts and one was a full on, I'm off my tits on morphine and frankly don't give a flying fuck rant - about people using status updates to say how they are or to read up on how someone is - instead of actually pausing to call and ask or say.
Life has been rather chaotic of late, my social life now consists of more medical people and hospital appointments than my little diary can handle, my body has never been so in demand and my brain has become a little bit frazzled with it all. To unwind - I've been youtubing my ass off but there is also a purpose to it.
While putting my 'house in order' it struck me that scribbled notes and photographs simply aren't enough to keep memories alive and so I'm now on a mission to compile an audiable history. I want my boys to hear the music we used to slow dance to at 3am when they were colicky, remember the songs we used to sing along loudly to in the car and listen to the tunes that marked lifes occasions and with the help of a little bit of software and a microphone, I'm adding my own unique touch to some of those.
Some may consider it a rather morbid thing to be doing, but for now it's giving me a direction - some things can't be put off until the magical 'tomorrow' and so that is where I've been of late, in bed with the laptop - giving the speakers a thorough spring clean.
And to one of my dearest friends, for all of your support and time ... this is for you, thank you xx
Friday, 11 March 2011
Sunshine
It's another gloriously beautiful spring morning, even the daffodils look a more intense shade of yellow today.
For so many years now, the sight of that flower has filled me with a deep sadness, most people have carnations or lillies at funerals - my friends and family however, seem to have a thing for the daffodil.
March through to May have so many anniversaries to acknowledge, my mother and I paused for a while during a conversation the other day, in recognition of daffodil season and then we discussed the sobering fact that we're running out of people to loose. I've yet to decide if it's better to know its coming or be woken up in the middle of the night by the phone ringing, this year - this year there are two 'candidates' already lined up and then yesterday came a panicked phone call and a night of waiting. Thankfully everything was ok but I'm beginning to think that I should hibernate until June.
This year however, I'm also more aware of my own mortality. Everything around me is more intense, more amplified and as I've walked past those daffs each day, watching them grow until a few days ago when they opened up to blow their perfectly formed trumpets, I've been consciously planning, organising and making mental notes of things in my life I need to put in order.
I have, what some call a twisted perception of death. I feel mourning the loss of someone to be a totally selfish moment in time - the body is a mere receptacle, a host for a soul rather than the complete person and yes it's painful when someone dies, but that grief strikes me as bitter resentment for the loss of a physical representation of a person rather than for their spirit and while I don't for one moment believe there is a right or wrong way to let go of a loved one, for me personally - death is never an end.
That said, while planning my own 'exit', I'm incredibly aware that every person manages their grief in a different way and it is not my place to impose my own beliefs on those around me - but it's making for some interesting decision making.
I find funeral protocol absurd - everyone has to wear black and be sad? what is that about? we celebrate birth, why shouldn't we celebrate death? There is a time and place for everything, but at my own funeral I don't want sombre, I don't want black and I don't want silence. I want my ashes packed in to a series of fireworks and to go out with one final fucking good bang.
Ok, so the sudden demise of someone is a massive shock - but surely it shouldn't take death to bring forth an outpouring of emotion, we're all guilty of taking people for granted to a certain level, we're all a bit frightened of dying, put what is the one absolute guaranteed moment in our lives to the back of our mind and hope to just fall asleep in our bed, having danced the previous day away partying on our 99th birthday - but we are all going to die at some point, I don't understand why it takes for someones heart to stop for those that care to say out loud the things they should be saying while that heart still beats.
I am truly blessed in my life, it's taken a while to realise it - but even with the crappy health issues and my odd emo moments, I actually have it all. I like me, I'm perfectly content and happy with who I am (even the big feet), I have, not only the most insanely funny friends and family around me but also, 3 boys who are growing up to be amazing young men with their own strength and integrity that leaves me breathless, I'm loved and love in return, passionately, unreservedly and completely. I don't need for anything and I have no regrets.
So when my time comes, do not stand by a wooden box and weep for the body encased within - I am not there, that is not me. Do not grieve for a life complete or mourn the loss of time to say all of those unspoken things. I'm still here, just no longer in direct line of sight and you don't have to whisper words of goodbye because I'm being all ethereal in your secret drawers and haven't left your life.
For so many years now, the sight of that flower has filled me with a deep sadness, most people have carnations or lillies at funerals - my friends and family however, seem to have a thing for the daffodil.
March through to May have so many anniversaries to acknowledge, my mother and I paused for a while during a conversation the other day, in recognition of daffodil season and then we discussed the sobering fact that we're running out of people to loose. I've yet to decide if it's better to know its coming or be woken up in the middle of the night by the phone ringing, this year - this year there are two 'candidates' already lined up and then yesterday came a panicked phone call and a night of waiting. Thankfully everything was ok but I'm beginning to think that I should hibernate until June.
This year however, I'm also more aware of my own mortality. Everything around me is more intense, more amplified and as I've walked past those daffs each day, watching them grow until a few days ago when they opened up to blow their perfectly formed trumpets, I've been consciously planning, organising and making mental notes of things in my life I need to put in order.
I have, what some call a twisted perception of death. I feel mourning the loss of someone to be a totally selfish moment in time - the body is a mere receptacle, a host for a soul rather than the complete person and yes it's painful when someone dies, but that grief strikes me as bitter resentment for the loss of a physical representation of a person rather than for their spirit and while I don't for one moment believe there is a right or wrong way to let go of a loved one, for me personally - death is never an end.
That said, while planning my own 'exit', I'm incredibly aware that every person manages their grief in a different way and it is not my place to impose my own beliefs on those around me - but it's making for some interesting decision making.
I find funeral protocol absurd - everyone has to wear black and be sad? what is that about? we celebrate birth, why shouldn't we celebrate death? There is a time and place for everything, but at my own funeral I don't want sombre, I don't want black and I don't want silence. I want my ashes packed in to a series of fireworks and to go out with one final fucking good bang.
Ok, so the sudden demise of someone is a massive shock - but surely it shouldn't take death to bring forth an outpouring of emotion, we're all guilty of taking people for granted to a certain level, we're all a bit frightened of dying, put what is the one absolute guaranteed moment in our lives to the back of our mind and hope to just fall asleep in our bed, having danced the previous day away partying on our 99th birthday - but we are all going to die at some point, I don't understand why it takes for someones heart to stop for those that care to say out loud the things they should be saying while that heart still beats.
I am truly blessed in my life, it's taken a while to realise it - but even with the crappy health issues and my odd emo moments, I actually have it all. I like me, I'm perfectly content and happy with who I am (even the big feet), I have, not only the most insanely funny friends and family around me but also, 3 boys who are growing up to be amazing young men with their own strength and integrity that leaves me breathless, I'm loved and love in return, passionately, unreservedly and completely. I don't need for anything and I have no regrets.
So when my time comes, do not stand by a wooden box and weep for the body encased within - I am not there, that is not me. Do not grieve for a life complete or mourn the loss of time to say all of those unspoken things. I'm still here, just no longer in direct line of sight and you don't have to whisper words of goodbye because I'm being all ethereal in your secret drawers and haven't left your life.
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
*inserts some humour*
found these whilst lurking on a site I use
and then I found this, which made me do lots of *gigglesnorts*
Monday, 7 March 2011
The written word
Well, Monday morning has rolled around again - that said, I could say its really Wednesday and with the help of a few words and a script embedded in a page, for a couple of seconds maybe, you'd believe me, why? because the written word is more powerful than any weapon. That's the ugly downside to the internet, a few typed words and lives can change in a heartbeat.
Take, for example, a recent blog post of mine, in which I described myself as a cunt - am I really that cruel? truth is, yes but not in the way I described. Did I really mass mailbomb a group of people? no I didn't - but the power of suggestion using words made even the people who really do know the person typing this stop and think.
In the age of social networking and multi media lifestyles, it's all very well checking and rechecking privacy settings, of taking care to protect yourself from viruses, malware and the odd psycho to feel secure behind your firewall when you log on each day - but have you ever stopped to consider if you're safe from your own mind - there isn't an anti bullshit download for that.
Blogs, status updates, emails, messenger programmes - we all use them, we all sit happily chatting away to people we will never meet but can we really be sure we trust them with our innermost parts? truth is - no, we can't and yet we carry on regardless, which is all fine and dandy if we have nothing to hide but can you really be sure that the person you're talking to is who they say they are?
You can't - and it always makes me roar when someone with something to hide, pretends to be something other than who they really are gets found out - because 9 times out of 10 the 'fake' is the person who shouts the loudest about respect and trust and honesty.
So why am I a cunt? because I deliberately wrote a blog to remind someone of this fact - I put together a post that suggested I had ripped his world in to pieces under the guise my being a scorned woman. Now he knows I could have done it, sweet little me could have very easily pieced together the pieces of information he had given over the course of a year and used it for foul revenge - but I didn't.
I wrote it with a very deliberate intention, to highlight the fact that if you're going to live a "second life" you need to be honest with yourself first, it's all very well pretending to be someone online, we all do it to a certain extent, chatrooms and the like are fantastic places for escapism - but if you choose to go down that route don't become a victim to it. If RL truly comes first, then get off the internet and live in the real world and if you're not happy, change it - yes its hard but you're master of your life and playing a pity me card will only work for so long - the world of the internet is great but don't lose focus of the fact that it's not real, real is what happens when you log off, there are real people around you being hurt and damaged while you lock yourself away and type to strangers.
So why am I a cunt? simply because I am so sick and tired of watching people claim to be something they are not, damage people along the way and show little if no remorse for that - so with the power of suggestion and nothing more than words on a page, I used my blog to show someone that RL is more important and that true happiness cannot be found in pixel form, you have to find it in yourself first before you can ever be content in the company of others, physical or virtual.
I make no apology for that, this is my blog, how people interpret it is entirely up to them, if it struck a nerve, a guilty conscience then so be it - we're only ever responsible for our own actions just don't believe everything you read ;)
Take, for example, a recent blog post of mine, in which I described myself as a cunt - am I really that cruel? truth is, yes but not in the way I described. Did I really mass mailbomb a group of people? no I didn't - but the power of suggestion using words made even the people who really do know the person typing this stop and think.
In the age of social networking and multi media lifestyles, it's all very well checking and rechecking privacy settings, of taking care to protect yourself from viruses, malware and the odd psycho to feel secure behind your firewall when you log on each day - but have you ever stopped to consider if you're safe from your own mind - there isn't an anti bullshit download for that.
Blogs, status updates, emails, messenger programmes - we all use them, we all sit happily chatting away to people we will never meet but can we really be sure we trust them with our innermost parts? truth is - no, we can't and yet we carry on regardless, which is all fine and dandy if we have nothing to hide but can you really be sure that the person you're talking to is who they say they are?
You can't - and it always makes me roar when someone with something to hide, pretends to be something other than who they really are gets found out - because 9 times out of 10 the 'fake' is the person who shouts the loudest about respect and trust and honesty.
So why am I a cunt? because I deliberately wrote a blog to remind someone of this fact - I put together a post that suggested I had ripped his world in to pieces under the guise my being a scorned woman. Now he knows I could have done it, sweet little me could have very easily pieced together the pieces of information he had given over the course of a year and used it for foul revenge - but I didn't.
I wrote it with a very deliberate intention, to highlight the fact that if you're going to live a "second life" you need to be honest with yourself first, it's all very well pretending to be someone online, we all do it to a certain extent, chatrooms and the like are fantastic places for escapism - but if you choose to go down that route don't become a victim to it. If RL truly comes first, then get off the internet and live in the real world and if you're not happy, change it - yes its hard but you're master of your life and playing a pity me card will only work for so long - the world of the internet is great but don't lose focus of the fact that it's not real, real is what happens when you log off, there are real people around you being hurt and damaged while you lock yourself away and type to strangers.
So why am I a cunt? simply because I am so sick and tired of watching people claim to be something they are not, damage people along the way and show little if no remorse for that - so with the power of suggestion and nothing more than words on a page, I used my blog to show someone that RL is more important and that true happiness cannot be found in pixel form, you have to find it in yourself first before you can ever be content in the company of others, physical or virtual.
I make no apology for that, this is my blog, how people interpret it is entirely up to them, if it struck a nerve, a guilty conscience then so be it - we're only ever responsible for our own actions just don't believe everything you read ;)
Sunday, 6 March 2011
cravings
I WANT A CIGARETTE !!
Well actually I don't 'want' one but my brain is telling me I haven't had a chemical hit today and it now neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds one. I won't have one but I may have a few moments of whinging while the urge passes.
Because that's all they are - moments.
Previous quit attempts have involved fake fags, gums, patches and 101 Biro's with chewed ends and I think I know why they didn't work - it's all very well replacing a ciggie with a plastic tube and filling it with a nicotine shot, but its actually that hand to mouth movement that needs to stop too. Okay, so it may work for some people but for me, it just reinforced that craving as my body wasn't getting the full effect of a king sized straight and with all the interesting stuff they put in to tobacco, I'm not entirely convinced its only the nicotine that makes quitting so difficult.
I've been googling and found that some of the over 4000 components that go in to one little smoke are of a questionable nature, who in their right mind thought that mixing generic tobacco with half of the pesticides and poisons found in the list below was a marketing strategy of pure genius proportions
So, I'm quitting, have wanted to for a while now and several failed attempts under my belt, I'm not about to become one of thise people who preach on the topic - but I am going to write this blog entry for a reference point to myself.
With only one member of my immediate family dying of heart disease and the rest going out riddled with cancer, you'd think I either would have never started smoking, or atleast quit on death days instead of sneaking off for a quick smoke after a funeral service, you'd think those images of a tar coated lungs on the back of a packet would have stopped me or even the more recent government campaign of making smoking socially unacceptable in public places and shown children passively smoking during commercial breaks on the tele would have worked - but none did, don't get me wrong, there was always room for pause and thought on the matter but none of the above were reason for me to never light up again.
What has worked? is the realisation that every time I spark up, I am chosing my own destiny but forcing the shoulders of my children to carry that. My 11 year old gave me a graphic description last year on just what smoking is doing to my body and it still wasn't the physical that caused me concern - it was the realisation that by smoking, I am forcing my children to watch me slowly kill myself - it may all be about personal choice, but when that choice affects the lives of the unheard then it's time to stop. By inhaling, effectively I'm making my children fear for our futures and that is why I've quit.
BUT - I won't ever tell anyone else to quit, it's a personal choice and while medics could profess the addictions involved and the government continue to spam us with anti smoking literature, the simple fact is, we all know it's a bad thing but we're allowed to decide for ourselves what we do next.
The only immediate downside to not smoking - is that the sense of smell comes back really quickly... I thought my cat farts were bad before .. nowadays they're of epic, biological warfare proportion.
Well actually I don't 'want' one but my brain is telling me I haven't had a chemical hit today and it now neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds one. I won't have one but I may have a few moments of whinging while the urge passes.
Because that's all they are - moments.
Previous quit attempts have involved fake fags, gums, patches and 101 Biro's with chewed ends and I think I know why they didn't work - it's all very well replacing a ciggie with a plastic tube and filling it with a nicotine shot, but its actually that hand to mouth movement that needs to stop too. Okay, so it may work for some people but for me, it just reinforced that craving as my body wasn't getting the full effect of a king sized straight and with all the interesting stuff they put in to tobacco, I'm not entirely convinced its only the nicotine that makes quitting so difficult.
I've been googling and found that some of the over 4000 components that go in to one little smoke are of a questionable nature, who in their right mind thought that mixing generic tobacco with half of the pesticides and poisons found in the list below was a marketing strategy of pure genius proportions
but what has shocked me more was this little piece I found ..
Ammonia: Household cleaner
Angelica root extract: Known to cause cancer in animals
Arsenic: Used in rat poisons
Benzene: Used in making dyes, synthetic rubber
Butane: Gas; used in lighter fluid
Carbon monoxide: Poisonous gas
Cadmium: Used in batteries
Cyanide: Deadly poison
DDT: A banned insecticide
Ethyl Furoate: Causes liver damage in animals
Lead: Poisonous in high doses
Formaldehyde: Used to preserve dead specimens
Methoprene: Insecticide
Megastigmatrienone: Chemical naturally found in grapefruit juice
Maltitol: Sweetener for diabetics
Naphthalene: Ingredient in mothballs
Methyl isocyanate: Its accidental release killed 2000 people in Bhopal, India in 1984
Polonium: Cancer-causing radioactive element
Along with blended tobacco and water, the 26-item L&M list includes high fructose corn syrup, sugar, natural and artificial licorice flavor, menthol, artificial milk chocolate and natural chocolate flavor, valerian root extract, molasses and vanilla extractsand I'm begining to wonder just what else is hidden, it strikes me as rather clever to have vile ingredients mixed in with 'feel good flavours', total brain fuckery that mean cigarette manufactuors are laughing all the way to the bank.
So, I'm quitting, have wanted to for a while now and several failed attempts under my belt, I'm not about to become one of thise people who preach on the topic - but I am going to write this blog entry for a reference point to myself.
With only one member of my immediate family dying of heart disease and the rest going out riddled with cancer, you'd think I either would have never started smoking, or atleast quit on death days instead of sneaking off for a quick smoke after a funeral service, you'd think those images of a tar coated lungs on the back of a packet would have stopped me or even the more recent government campaign of making smoking socially unacceptable in public places and shown children passively smoking during commercial breaks on the tele would have worked - but none did, don't get me wrong, there was always room for pause and thought on the matter but none of the above were reason for me to never light up again.
What has worked? is the realisation that every time I spark up, I am chosing my own destiny but forcing the shoulders of my children to carry that. My 11 year old gave me a graphic description last year on just what smoking is doing to my body and it still wasn't the physical that caused me concern - it was the realisation that by smoking, I am forcing my children to watch me slowly kill myself - it may all be about personal choice, but when that choice affects the lives of the unheard then it's time to stop. By inhaling, effectively I'm making my children fear for our futures and that is why I've quit.
BUT - I won't ever tell anyone else to quit, it's a personal choice and while medics could profess the addictions involved and the government continue to spam us with anti smoking literature, the simple fact is, we all know it's a bad thing but we're allowed to decide for ourselves what we do next.
The only immediate downside to not smoking - is that the sense of smell comes back really quickly... I thought my cat farts were bad before .. nowadays they're of epic, biological warfare proportion.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
boiled prim bunny
To the people that know me, I'm quiet, shy, sweet Lil Pip, a good friend, a trustable and dependable person who wouldn't seek to hurt any one. The few people who really know me though, know that I have the word bitch engraved in to the cold rod of steel that runs through me and this week, this week the devil within was unleashed.
I don't do confrontation, I don't do screaming rows and plate smashing, I go for a more cold and calculated approach when pissed off which maybe isn't something to be proud of and while very rarely will anyone ever get to see that side of me, but when pushed that far I will silently slip inside someone and rape their colon while they sleep.
You see, I don't do being used very easily. I don't do being lied to either and when someone comes in to my life, manages to achieve both of those without batting an eyelid and then begins to portray themselves as a superhero with morals purer than Snow White, I have this ugly habit of snapping.
What does snapping mean exactly if it isn't screaming like a banshee at the condescending bastard, or hurling 100wpm verbal abuse at the patronising cretin? well for me it involved one of my 'true friends' - google
The thing with forging friendships/ relationships online, if you're too busy trying to get out of that situation what you can, you stop being careful about the personal information you're sharing. It's all too easy to let slip what seem innocent status updates or tit-bits of your real life while you're desperately trying to manipulate a person in to believing in you - okay, so you don't give out your home address or telephone number but every now and then you will drop a comment and it's dear sweet little ebil cunts like me who will store those little time bombs away in the file marked "for future reference".. just in case they're ever needed ... and when that day comes, half an hour with google and those little time bombs become a WMD.
And here's the thing, while you may gasp at the horror of which I type here, consider me to be sly or underhand, think on this one thing - if you're going to treat me like a cunt, don't act surprised when I turn out to be one.
I took great delight in compiling that mass email, the one that has been read by your family, friends and work colleagues, I thoroughly enjoyed explaining in high quality graphic detail just what it is you really use the Internet for, I felt incredibly overwhelmed with emotion when using purdy italicised fonts to link every single web page, profile and conversation written by you and I damned near orgasmed when hitting the SEND button
but the fun doesn't stop there ..
because all it took was a song and a social networking site....
and now I'm damn near catatonic in euphoria knowing that on Monday morning, you will have to walk in to your workplace and not know which of your fellow 9-5ers know the truth about you - you're going to be hiding at your desk feeling eyes on you and not only are you going to be feeling sick but your stomach is going to be turning inside out every time the phone rings, could the next call be from a relative with a tone that will cut through your callous heart or will you go home at the end of the day to find your child has used a big fat red crayon to scribble daddy out of the family portrait ....
you see - it doesn't matter how careful you think you are online, someone else's privacy settings (or lack thereof) will ALWAYS fuck you up, which isn't a problem if you are honest about who you are but the second you log on and think you can keep your real life and virtual life separate - YOU'RE SCREWED
or do you really believe you are invincible, are you so lost to your virtual persona that you actually believe you are a decent man and will be completely unaware that any of these people now know the truths of your deceptions, now have documented evidence of your infidelities and who are now taking steps to remove you from their own realities.
And there's the rub - it's one giant mash up of questions,
has she really done it? who now knows? need a box of dihocalm yet?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I could have destroyed someone's life on Thursday night, I had the means and I had the desire to set fire to the arse of the man who hurt me
One apology, one heartfelt simple apology was all I wanted - a small token of recognition that he has the manners of a warthog and the morals of a sewer rat, an admittance that I purely was a 'snickers subbie' - a gap filler rather than of any real substance or worth, rather than the girl he supposedly loved and the girl whom he would whisper suggestion of real life to,
Okay, okay, I fell for it all - more fool me huh, what began as a pity cyber fuck has lead me to here, being full of vitriol and venom for a man with who hasn't got a clue that half the population of his blog readers only read it for the inaneness of it, for a man who doesn't know he is being laughed at from the moment he taps his fat little fingers on his keyboard, for a man who postures and proclaims to be so caring, considerate, empathic and genuine yet to his wider audience is perceived as a joke and I'll admit that, I could have very easily given Glenn Close a run for her rabbit stew pot
*if* he had of been more honest, *if* he had of been the person he tries to paint himself to be maybe, just maybe it would have all been very different but sadly for men like that,
men who truly believe they have something special to give, men who believe in an imaginary self worth,
men who have to constantly tell everyone they are superman helping little old ladies across the road and fighting for the justice of the downtrodden.
men who have a need they cannot satisfy in the confines of their real life and who destroy the lives of the people they cross while on the mission to find their nirvana.
men who use BDSM as their support tool, claiming to be cute little submissive simply to put the blame on to the evil bitch in heels who told, neigh demanded he kneel before them and wank,
(even if was only over the typed words of Kevin from Margate cleverly disguised as a female pixel goddess).
men who don't actually have the balls to change their situation and live as a pathetic victim "because of the children" and who actually believe they are the wronged party because their not getting their kinky sex needs met by their spouse - but who have never stopped to consider that said spouse actually finds them loathsome, unattractive and pre-pubescent puerile.
and men who actually do deserve to be sodomised by the karma cactus ....
I don't do confrontation, I don't do screaming rows and plate smashing, I go for a more cold and calculated approach when pissed off which maybe isn't something to be proud of and while very rarely will anyone ever get to see that side of me, but when pushed that far I will silently slip inside someone and rape their colon while they sleep.
You see, I don't do being used very easily. I don't do being lied to either and when someone comes in to my life, manages to achieve both of those without batting an eyelid and then begins to portray themselves as a superhero with morals purer than Snow White, I have this ugly habit of snapping.
What does snapping mean exactly if it isn't screaming like a banshee at the condescending bastard, or hurling 100wpm verbal abuse at the patronising cretin? well for me it involved one of my 'true friends' - google
The thing with forging friendships/ relationships online, if you're too busy trying to get out of that situation what you can, you stop being careful about the personal information you're sharing. It's all too easy to let slip what seem innocent status updates or tit-bits of your real life while you're desperately trying to manipulate a person in to believing in you - okay, so you don't give out your home address or telephone number but every now and then you will drop a comment and it's dear sweet little ebil cunts like me who will store those little time bombs away in the file marked "for future reference".. just in case they're ever needed ... and when that day comes, half an hour with google and those little time bombs become a WMD.
And here's the thing, while you may gasp at the horror of which I type here, consider me to be sly or underhand, think on this one thing - if you're going to treat me like a cunt, don't act surprised when I turn out to be one.
I took great delight in compiling that mass email, the one that has been read by your family, friends and work colleagues, I thoroughly enjoyed explaining in high quality graphic detail just what it is you really use the Internet for, I felt incredibly overwhelmed with emotion when using purdy italicised fonts to link every single web page, profile and conversation written by you and I damned near orgasmed when hitting the SEND button
but the fun doesn't stop there ..
because all it took was a song and a social networking site....
and now I'm damn near catatonic in euphoria knowing that on Monday morning, you will have to walk in to your workplace and not know which of your fellow 9-5ers know the truth about you - you're going to be hiding at your desk feeling eyes on you and not only are you going to be feeling sick but your stomach is going to be turning inside out every time the phone rings, could the next call be from a relative with a tone that will cut through your callous heart or will you go home at the end of the day to find your child has used a big fat red crayon to scribble daddy out of the family portrait ....
you see - it doesn't matter how careful you think you are online, someone else's privacy settings (or lack thereof) will ALWAYS fuck you up, which isn't a problem if you are honest about who you are but the second you log on and think you can keep your real life and virtual life separate - YOU'RE SCREWED
or do you really believe you are invincible, are you so lost to your virtual persona that you actually believe you are a decent man and will be completely unaware that any of these people now know the truths of your deceptions, now have documented evidence of your infidelities and who are now taking steps to remove you from their own realities.
And there's the rub - it's one giant mash up of questions,
has she really done it? who now knows? need a box of dihocalm yet?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I could have destroyed someone's life on Thursday night, I had the means and I had the desire to set fire to the arse of the man who hurt me
One apology, one heartfelt simple apology was all I wanted - a small token of recognition that he has the manners of a warthog and the morals of a sewer rat, an admittance that I purely was a 'snickers subbie' - a gap filler rather than of any real substance or worth, rather than the girl he supposedly loved and the girl whom he would whisper suggestion of real life to,
Okay, okay, I fell for it all - more fool me huh, what began as a pity cyber fuck has lead me to here, being full of vitriol and venom for a man with who hasn't got a clue that half the population of his blog readers only read it for the inaneness of it, for a man who doesn't know he is being laughed at from the moment he taps his fat little fingers on his keyboard, for a man who postures and proclaims to be so caring, considerate, empathic and genuine yet to his wider audience is perceived as a joke and I'll admit that, I could have very easily given Glenn Close a run for her rabbit stew pot
*if* he had of been more honest, *if* he had of been the person he tries to paint himself to be maybe, just maybe it would have all been very different but sadly for men like that,
men who truly believe they have something special to give, men who believe in an imaginary self worth,
men who have to constantly tell everyone they are superman helping little old ladies across the road and fighting for the justice of the downtrodden.
men who have a need they cannot satisfy in the confines of their real life and who destroy the lives of the people they cross while on the mission to find their nirvana.
men who use BDSM as their support tool, claiming to be cute little submissive simply to put the blame on to the evil bitch in heels who told, neigh demanded he kneel before them and wank,
(even if was only over the typed words of Kevin from Margate cleverly disguised as a female pixel goddess).
men who don't actually have the balls to change their situation and live as a pathetic victim "because of the children" and who actually believe they are the wronged party because their not getting their kinky sex needs met by their spouse - but who have never stopped to consider that said spouse actually finds them loathsome, unattractive and pre-pubescent puerile.
and men who actually do deserve to be sodomised by the karma cactus ....
The only question remaining now is .. did I use lube?
Saturday, 19 February 2011
proactive behaviour
OK ... a list of goals I want to achieve in the next year in no particular order, although apparently hula hooping will have to go on a future list
I'm tired, tired of pain, tired of pills, tired of living a life in which everything I do needs careful planning, I'm tired of hiding away because it's easier than face the reality that is now me, I'm tired of doing it all on my own.
So something needs to change right?
Just over a week ago, I sat here with a load of crushed up pills and a bottle of vodka - not because I want to die, but because living became too much to cope with - and yes that is really rather selfish of me but not for the reasons people have hurled at me when they were told
I don't buy in to the "what about the people you leave behind" attitude towards suicide, I've been one of those people more times than I can count on 10 fingers, I've also been on the end of the phone when a family member or a friend has called to say "it ends tonight" and while it may upset some people, I'd rather someone went out when they chose to and not force themselves to live a life for someone else - okay, so there is a time to get help, to tell that person to get off their arse and fight for life but when the reason to say stop is stronger than the reason to carry on - then I respect that choice and don't feel it is fair to add the pressure of how their actions may or may not affect me sway their decision. I would truly hate for someone to exist out of guilt and that is why I hold the beliefs I do
So when I spoke of my being selfish, it had nothing to do with how my choices affect other people but instead from the knowledge that compared to so many, I have it easy - and my selfishness comes from my lack of 'want' to try.
I watched a documentary recently, part way through there was a clip about a blind Tibetan woman being carried 10km on the back of a man down the mountain to get a cataract operation and its feats of strength like that that leave me feeling utterly selfish, one medic this week told me that pain is only ever relative to the person feeling it and that it should never be dismissed in terms of a reason for feeling totally broken - but I don't particularly like myself very much for crying about something that over time, can be made bearable or for not having enough of a positive attitude to deal with it effectively.
So that's what needs to change - my outlook, for the most part it is there but every now and then I let go and fall in to self pity mode - but one day ... one day I am going walk a marathon.
- I want to walk without fear - everything else will fall in to place once I master this
- I want to look at a flight of stairs and climb them without handrails
- I want to pick my children up when they fall
- I want to drive again
- I want to not have to deal with everything on my own
- I want to be able to face the outside world and not feel so scared
- I want to paddle in the sea, fly a kite on the sand
- I want to ride a bike
- I want to wake up in the morning and not reach for the pills
- I want to have a snowball fight
- I want to take the boys camping
- I want a social life filled with real people and not live by which medical appt. I'm at next
- I want to get excited by lingerie not support tights
- I want to buy a pair of shoes with a 6" heel
- I want a hug, to feel someone hold me/ to hold someone
- I want sex, animalistic rough fucking that leaves me breathless or even the gentlest of touch
- I want to look at my reflection and see a 34 year old woman and not an old, haggard mess
- I want to go to the hairdresser and get a proper cut
- I want to not feel so pathetic and weak
- I want a long hot bubble bath with a bottle of wine and a good book
I'm tired, tired of pain, tired of pills, tired of living a life in which everything I do needs careful planning, I'm tired of hiding away because it's easier than face the reality that is now me, I'm tired of doing it all on my own.
So something needs to change right?
Just over a week ago, I sat here with a load of crushed up pills and a bottle of vodka - not because I want to die, but because living became too much to cope with - and yes that is really rather selfish of me but not for the reasons people have hurled at me when they were told
I don't buy in to the "what about the people you leave behind" attitude towards suicide, I've been one of those people more times than I can count on 10 fingers, I've also been on the end of the phone when a family member or a friend has called to say "it ends tonight" and while it may upset some people, I'd rather someone went out when they chose to and not force themselves to live a life for someone else - okay, so there is a time to get help, to tell that person to get off their arse and fight for life but when the reason to say stop is stronger than the reason to carry on - then I respect that choice and don't feel it is fair to add the pressure of how their actions may or may not affect me sway their decision. I would truly hate for someone to exist out of guilt and that is why I hold the beliefs I do
So when I spoke of my being selfish, it had nothing to do with how my choices affect other people but instead from the knowledge that compared to so many, I have it easy - and my selfishness comes from my lack of 'want' to try.
I watched a documentary recently, part way through there was a clip about a blind Tibetan woman being carried 10km on the back of a man down the mountain to get a cataract operation and its feats of strength like that that leave me feeling utterly selfish, one medic this week told me that pain is only ever relative to the person feeling it and that it should never be dismissed in terms of a reason for feeling totally broken - but I don't particularly like myself very much for crying about something that over time, can be made bearable or for not having enough of a positive attitude to deal with it effectively.
So that's what needs to change - my outlook, for the most part it is there but every now and then I let go and fall in to self pity mode - but one day ... one day I am going walk a marathon.
Needs
So, I want to walk, I want to not feel miserable - next on my list? sex .. I MISS SEX!
this post may ramble on a bit ..
Its hard to clarify what I do want from a physical relationship or put fucking like a beast as a goal on my list, I'm having a massive identity crisis and am not sure who I am anymore, which in turn has a domino effect on my cunt because in order for me to find pleasure, surely I need to know from where I wish to find it.
Ever since I could wank, it's always been a subbie based fantasy that's got me off the quickest, when I discovered the internets and found not only a name but a whole wealth of information and people to explore this side of me with I, like many people gave myself the title of submissive and pigeon holed myself. That lead to some interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations and taught me a lot about myself, from there I switched and became a bitch in killer heels, again taking a title and living out yet more interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations.
But I've come to a point in my life where neither title 'fits' and I find myself on the edge of a community watching people posture, preen and try to out do each other in some secret competition to be the ultimate 'true bottom/top'. It all smells like bullshit to me and I know, because for a while there, I was right in the middle of it all trying to be 'one of them'.
The internet is a great resource but scratch away the shine and what you really see is a political nightmare, full of roleplay, playground behaviours and childish popularity contests. Maybe this is part of the 'journey' - to realise that actually, while it's all to easy to write YKIOK, believing in that rather than the erotic literature based ideals of what BDSM should be is when you've finally found 'it'.
Trouble in that theory is that meeting other people who will admit to not giving a damn about other peoples beliefs and perceptions is hard work, no-body wants to be an outcast and that is exactly what happens when you dare to speak outside of the cage. To meet anyone, go to events, parties even simple munches - it seems you have to have a name or be verified by a known name in order to be spoken to, turn up at any of these events without having profiles on the relevant social sites and you're left outside of the cliques - which on one hand is no bad thing, who wants to be part of a group of people that need you to have passed security clearance first? but the flip side is in order to be accepted you need to be a part of this group - for a community that is apparently so broad minded and welcomming - there's a lot of red tape to get past first and that is where part of my identity crisis stems from
I don't need to win a popularity contest to feel ok about myself, I don't need to try and outdo another to gain 'celebrity', I don't need to have a CV of how many strokes of the cane I can take to prove myself, I'm actually ok with who I am - what I'm not ok with is knowing I'm stuck, of knowing I need to get out more and that the only way it seems possible to do that is by 'schmoozing' with the right names to be allowed access, something that leaves a very bitter taste.
Most of these sites come with title tags and they'd appreciate it if you took your correct name tag at the door ...
call myself Top and I get bombarded with "please miss, i'm new to the scene and just want to chat' emails that invairiably lead to 'thank you for replying, most dont as i'm a novice and an unknown - whats the baddest thing you've done to a naughty boy' conversation starters that are met with sarcasm, disappointment and a block.
call myself bottom and my inbox will fill with demands to submit to the man with the biggest flogger as a profile picture, threats and abuse when told 'no thanks' and the occasional, ooh you're feisty, I will break you/ ooh you're feisty, I'm really a subbie, please do me memos that leave me laughing till I pee.
call myself a switch and its a combination of the above with the occasional 'you dont belong here' message that tries to delve in to my brain and extract my 'twoo subbie nature'
it's all bullshit - I'm me, 'Pip', I will bake you a cake but I will eat it infront of you too if the mood takes me there. So now its 'kinkster' a title which helps everyone else identify me (ok, stops all the wanky men roaring at me and beating their naked chest) but doesn't actually define who I am.
(pauses for a cuppa)
I guess I'm just disillusioned with it all, the focus isn't on the person but on their kink list. I won't lie, I've judged aswell as been judged, have tried to 'fit in' and dismiss people who don't meet my own ideals - I don't particularly like myself for that but I'm told its just human nature :s a survival/ selection system of sorts.
So, I've lived in a long term D/s relationship, I've been poly, a demo bunny, a one night fling, a part time play thing and a series of short term contractual sessioners - and yet, while I could sit here and write out my CV, it seems experience is only recognised if it was taught by a "valued member"
Due to "RL", I thought I'd explore the online thing, only once and never again, a collar whether a verbal, physical or virtual thing is still something I have full respect for, except in that situation when it came off quicker than a velcro rip strap .. and truth be told I'm still very bitter about the experience.
See, the great thing about SL for me is that inworld, I have a body that can move and I use the grid as pure escapism within the realms of what I would do if I physically could, I met someone, felt a real feeling for, poly'd to him and his partner, loved them both dearly but didnt feel stable enough for it to continue, cried when he left SL, cried when she defriended me (I guess I was only worth the status I bought them), felt those feelings for him even more when he came back under a new name, asked for time to balance myself when he begged for me to wear his collar, eventually took it, thought I was safe and got dropped from a great height
But now have become a person I don't like very much as I feel totally used and bite my tongue on a daily basis so as not to dishonour him, he writes of love and respect and of his own hurt but not once has he even stopped to notice I muted him or question why and it's that that bothers me, not just because of him, but because of this 'community' which claims a moral highground, demands respect and acknowledgement but behind all the nicities and ettiqettes is actually a group of people banding together under an umbrella for solidarity but all out for what they can get from each other without any real thought for the damage they cause
and that is why I don't 'fit in'
because I believe BDSM isn't about whips and chains, of kneeling in dutiful respect or of demanding obedience - it's about the relationship between people, be that two, three or a poly household and it shouldn't need a handbook or a checklist to make sure you're doing it right.
I don't need 'breaking down and remolding in to a proper submissive' and in the same respect, I don't need someone on their knees to make me feel dominant
what I seek is someone who feels it on a chemistry level, it's the energy between myself and someone else that excites me not what the porn industry classes as a 'scene' - I have 'slave' as a kanji tattoo on my body, not as a brand, mark of ownership or symbol but a simple design that represents part of who I am but it is just that - it's a part of who I am , finding someone who see's past that, beyond the benchmark set by a group of people who feel they have to constantly piss up a wall to prove their worth is proving a little difficult
this post may ramble on a bit ..
Its hard to clarify what I do want from a physical relationship or put fucking like a beast as a goal on my list, I'm having a massive identity crisis and am not sure who I am anymore, which in turn has a domino effect on my cunt because in order for me to find pleasure, surely I need to know from where I wish to find it.
Ever since I could wank, it's always been a subbie based fantasy that's got me off the quickest, when I discovered the internets and found not only a name but a whole wealth of information and people to explore this side of me with I, like many people gave myself the title of submissive and pigeon holed myself. That lead to some interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations and taught me a lot about myself, from there I switched and became a bitch in killer heels, again taking a title and living out yet more interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations.
But I've come to a point in my life where neither title 'fits' and I find myself on the edge of a community watching people posture, preen and try to out do each other in some secret competition to be the ultimate 'true bottom/top'. It all smells like bullshit to me and I know, because for a while there, I was right in the middle of it all trying to be 'one of them'.
The internet is a great resource but scratch away the shine and what you really see is a political nightmare, full of roleplay, playground behaviours and childish popularity contests. Maybe this is part of the 'journey' - to realise that actually, while it's all to easy to write YKIOK, believing in that rather than the erotic literature based ideals of what BDSM should be is when you've finally found 'it'.
Trouble in that theory is that meeting other people who will admit to not giving a damn about other peoples beliefs and perceptions is hard work, no-body wants to be an outcast and that is exactly what happens when you dare to speak outside of the cage. To meet anyone, go to events, parties even simple munches - it seems you have to have a name or be verified by a known name in order to be spoken to, turn up at any of these events without having profiles on the relevant social sites and you're left outside of the cliques - which on one hand is no bad thing, who wants to be part of a group of people that need you to have passed security clearance first? but the flip side is in order to be accepted you need to be a part of this group - for a community that is apparently so broad minded and welcomming - there's a lot of red tape to get past first and that is where part of my identity crisis stems from
I don't need to win a popularity contest to feel ok about myself, I don't need to try and outdo another to gain 'celebrity', I don't need to have a CV of how many strokes of the cane I can take to prove myself, I'm actually ok with who I am - what I'm not ok with is knowing I'm stuck, of knowing I need to get out more and that the only way it seems possible to do that is by 'schmoozing' with the right names to be allowed access, something that leaves a very bitter taste.
Most of these sites come with title tags and they'd appreciate it if you took your correct name tag at the door ...
call myself Top and I get bombarded with "please miss, i'm new to the scene and just want to chat' emails that invairiably lead to 'thank you for replying, most dont as i'm a novice and an unknown - whats the baddest thing you've done to a naughty boy' conversation starters that are met with sarcasm, disappointment and a block.
call myself bottom and my inbox will fill with demands to submit to the man with the biggest flogger as a profile picture, threats and abuse when told 'no thanks' and the occasional, ooh you're feisty, I will break you/ ooh you're feisty, I'm really a subbie, please do me memos that leave me laughing till I pee.
call myself a switch and its a combination of the above with the occasional 'you dont belong here' message that tries to delve in to my brain and extract my 'twoo subbie nature'
it's all bullshit - I'm me, 'Pip', I will bake you a cake but I will eat it infront of you too if the mood takes me there. So now its 'kinkster' a title which helps everyone else identify me (ok, stops all the wanky men roaring at me and beating their naked chest) but doesn't actually define who I am.
(pauses for a cuppa)
I guess I'm just disillusioned with it all, the focus isn't on the person but on their kink list. I won't lie, I've judged aswell as been judged, have tried to 'fit in' and dismiss people who don't meet my own ideals - I don't particularly like myself for that but I'm told its just human nature :s a survival/ selection system of sorts.
So, I've lived in a long term D/s relationship, I've been poly, a demo bunny, a one night fling, a part time play thing and a series of short term contractual sessioners - and yet, while I could sit here and write out my CV, it seems experience is only recognised if it was taught by a "valued member"
Due to "RL", I thought I'd explore the online thing, only once and never again, a collar whether a verbal, physical or virtual thing is still something I have full respect for, except in that situation when it came off quicker than a velcro rip strap .. and truth be told I'm still very bitter about the experience.
See, the great thing about SL for me is that inworld, I have a body that can move and I use the grid as pure escapism within the realms of what I would do if I physically could, I met someone, felt a real feeling for, poly'd to him and his partner, loved them both dearly but didnt feel stable enough for it to continue, cried when he left SL, cried when she defriended me (I guess I was only worth the status I bought them), felt those feelings for him even more when he came back under a new name, asked for time to balance myself when he begged for me to wear his collar, eventually took it, thought I was safe and got dropped from a great height
But now have become a person I don't like very much as I feel totally used and bite my tongue on a daily basis so as not to dishonour him, he writes of love and respect and of his own hurt but not once has he even stopped to notice I muted him or question why and it's that that bothers me, not just because of him, but because of this 'community' which claims a moral highground, demands respect and acknowledgement but behind all the nicities and ettiqettes is actually a group of people banding together under an umbrella for solidarity but all out for what they can get from each other without any real thought for the damage they cause
and that is why I don't 'fit in'
because I believe BDSM isn't about whips and chains, of kneeling in dutiful respect or of demanding obedience - it's about the relationship between people, be that two, three or a poly household and it shouldn't need a handbook or a checklist to make sure you're doing it right.
I don't need 'breaking down and remolding in to a proper submissive' and in the same respect, I don't need someone on their knees to make me feel dominant
what I seek is someone who feels it on a chemistry level, it's the energy between myself and someone else that excites me not what the porn industry classes as a 'scene' - I have 'slave' as a kanji tattoo on my body, not as a brand, mark of ownership or symbol but a simple design that represents part of who I am but it is just that - it's a part of who I am , finding someone who see's past that, beyond the benchmark set by a group of people who feel they have to constantly piss up a wall to prove their worth is proving a little difficult
Deux
Second on my list, although maybe it should be number one, is not to feel so miserable.
Miserable doesn't come close to explaining how low I get and I hate that I am so weak, which is why I try and hide how I do feel, it's really quite pathetic of me to cry and whinge about pain when compared to most people, I have it easy.
But I struggle with it, I miss doing so many simple things, I miss hugs, proper fall in to someones arms and hold them as tightly as they hold me moments - I can't do it, I'm not balanced in a cuddle, I can't support the weight of someone else's arms around me and the only way I can describe it is that I feel like a coke can being crushed, so I don't let anyone get that close.
I have to lay down to snuggle my babies and they're accepting of this fact but its unbearable, if they fall over I can't run to pick them up, they have to come to me and it shouldn't be that way, ok, it may be character building for them but its not right, I cant scoop them up and make it all better instantly.
I miss life, of being spontaneous and free to go wherever I want to, every venture outside my front door takes a degree of planning that I'm so tired of doing. Most of my problem is pride, I get that and it's down to me to make the effort, but 9 times out of 10 I just won't do it, because I cannot bear to be seen like this. It's not just pride, it's fear, I don't feel safe, one trip or badly placed foot and I'm back to square one, I don't have the confidence to risk that.
But I'm my biggest problem, I've become this damned disease's victim, in order to make progress I need to be doing more things but fear of pain, of failure, of embarrassment has become my safety net and with each day I'm hiding further away from the face of this thing. It's a lot easier to not try incase it hurts too much. Another reason why I don't say how I feel because truth is, I know how defeatist I have become and so don't feel it is fair to say 'today is a bad day' because I've caused a lot of it..
I truly do have the most incredible friends, who support me even though what I put them through is obscene and I will never be able to say just how much their love means to me, but during the really dark moments, I shy away from them, that's one of the 'beauties' of having friends who live miles away, 95% of our communication is done through wires and online I can pretend to be ok, what they don't see is me breaking when I log off and I while for the most part, I like it that way - inside I'm also screaming because I end up feeling even more alone.
I don't know how to find that balance though - every day is a 'bad day' but I refuse to become that emo friend, the one who brings everyone down, the one people avoid because its all 'woe is me', I'm not that person, trouble is my need to not be that person means I struggle to say how I do feel when I need to and I become so stuck in being unable to speak up I isolate myself even more.
I guess this blog is the beginning of breaking that cycle, I can whinge, bitch and moan to my hearts content here, people can read it to know where I'm at but I then don't have to fill an IM window full of my self pity, I can still be me, happy Pip, talking about anything and everything from lemon drizzle cake to anal fisting but in the knowledghe that now people do know instead of being freaked right out on the days when it all gets a little too much to bare.
Miserable doesn't come close to explaining how low I get and I hate that I am so weak, which is why I try and hide how I do feel, it's really quite pathetic of me to cry and whinge about pain when compared to most people, I have it easy.
But I struggle with it, I miss doing so many simple things, I miss hugs, proper fall in to someones arms and hold them as tightly as they hold me moments - I can't do it, I'm not balanced in a cuddle, I can't support the weight of someone else's arms around me and the only way I can describe it is that I feel like a coke can being crushed, so I don't let anyone get that close.
I have to lay down to snuggle my babies and they're accepting of this fact but its unbearable, if they fall over I can't run to pick them up, they have to come to me and it shouldn't be that way, ok, it may be character building for them but its not right, I cant scoop them up and make it all better instantly.
I miss life, of being spontaneous and free to go wherever I want to, every venture outside my front door takes a degree of planning that I'm so tired of doing. Most of my problem is pride, I get that and it's down to me to make the effort, but 9 times out of 10 I just won't do it, because I cannot bear to be seen like this. It's not just pride, it's fear, I don't feel safe, one trip or badly placed foot and I'm back to square one, I don't have the confidence to risk that.
But I'm my biggest problem, I've become this damned disease's victim, in order to make progress I need to be doing more things but fear of pain, of failure, of embarrassment has become my safety net and with each day I'm hiding further away from the face of this thing. It's a lot easier to not try incase it hurts too much. Another reason why I don't say how I feel because truth is, I know how defeatist I have become and so don't feel it is fair to say 'today is a bad day' because I've caused a lot of it..
I truly do have the most incredible friends, who support me even though what I put them through is obscene and I will never be able to say just how much their love means to me, but during the really dark moments, I shy away from them, that's one of the 'beauties' of having friends who live miles away, 95% of our communication is done through wires and online I can pretend to be ok, what they don't see is me breaking when I log off and I while for the most part, I like it that way - inside I'm also screaming because I end up feeling even more alone.
I don't know how to find that balance though - every day is a 'bad day' but I refuse to become that emo friend, the one who brings everyone down, the one people avoid because its all 'woe is me', I'm not that person, trouble is my need to not be that person means I struggle to say how I do feel when I need to and I become so stuck in being unable to speak up I isolate myself even more.
I guess this blog is the beginning of breaking that cycle, I can whinge, bitch and moan to my hearts content here, people can read it to know where I'm at but I then don't have to fill an IM window full of my self pity, I can still be me, happy Pip, talking about anything and everything from lemon drizzle cake to anal fisting but in the knowledghe that now people do know instead of being freaked right out on the days when it all gets a little too much to bare.
Friday, 18 February 2011
Bullet Proof
I never realised just how much I took for granted or just how difficult simple tasks can become when impaired, I'm 34 and am having to write a list of goals I want to achieve in the next year and it's not like a new years resolution type list or a bucket list, its a list of things I should be able to do, have done and struggle with being no longer able to do.
Top of my list .. walking, one foot in front of the other without wanting to cry, hold my groin in an MJesque pose or waddle like a duck.
It goes much deeper than that though, I'd like to be able to walk without watching each step, without looking where the next movement will land, without planning where and how each foot will go, without feeling unstable, vunerable and weak.
I rarely go out nowadays, I'll do the school run - without that I'd never leave the house at all, but I have that route down to individual kerb stones and flat surfaces, people whinge about the state of our roads in this country, they should try out the pavements some time.
Going further than that though, fills me with dread and I'll do anything I can to avoid it, I live in a small town but all it takes is for someone to walk out in front of me and I'm digging my sticks in to the ground to stay upright. Its unavoidable, people walk out of stores without looking, will stop suddenly to answer a mobile or to peer in to a shop window and I'm left wishing people came with indicators and brake lights as standard.
I don't feel safe, physically or mentally and so I stay at home.
So that's number one - to walk, unaided, without fear.
Top of my list .. walking, one foot in front of the other without wanting to cry, hold my groin in an MJesque pose or waddle like a duck.
It goes much deeper than that though, I'd like to be able to walk without watching each step, without looking where the next movement will land, without planning where and how each foot will go, without feeling unstable, vunerable and weak.
I rarely go out nowadays, I'll do the school run - without that I'd never leave the house at all, but I have that route down to individual kerb stones and flat surfaces, people whinge about the state of our roads in this country, they should try out the pavements some time.
Going further than that though, fills me with dread and I'll do anything I can to avoid it, I live in a small town but all it takes is for someone to walk out in front of me and I'm digging my sticks in to the ground to stay upright. Its unavoidable, people walk out of stores without looking, will stop suddenly to answer a mobile or to peer in to a shop window and I'm left wishing people came with indicators and brake lights as standard.
I don't feel safe, physically or mentally and so I stay at home.
So that's number one - to walk, unaided, without fear.
Going Public
Well here I am .. a blogger called Pip, not actually a new concept but rather a new profile and a fresh clean blog to fill with crap. I may import the old blog at some point, or I may just keep it archived for my own reference.
I've got two reasons for writing this, the first because I'm totally crap at saying how I really feel and then freak people out when I end up on my arse ( a regular occurrence resulting in me hiding from the world until I have removed my head from said arse) - so for you wonderful people who despair of me at times, this is for you, beanbags, Valium and walls to bang your head against are over thar --->
The second reason is a theraputic one, I'm supposed to write a list of goals I want to achieve over the coming year and a blog is a way of keeping tabs on where I get to.
So welcome to the little corner of the net that I have taken up residence in ;)
I've got two reasons for writing this, the first because I'm totally crap at saying how I really feel and then freak people out when I end up on my arse ( a regular occurrence resulting in me hiding from the world until I have removed my head from said arse) - so for you wonderful people who despair of me at times, this is for you, beanbags, Valium and walls to bang your head against are over thar --->
The second reason is a theraputic one, I'm supposed to write a list of goals I want to achieve over the coming year and a blog is a way of keeping tabs on where I get to.
So welcome to the little corner of the net that I have taken up residence in ;)
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