Either I have far less feelings than I thought or my mind specifically goes blank when it comes time to blog.  I stare at this blank page for 30 minutes before an idea even begins to float in my mind.

I’m just not an open person.  Of course, I’d like to think I am.  I am trying to be though, especially with Sir.  Especially after Sunday’s mini-meltdown.  It seems like all the parts of me that I consider scary do not scare him.  I still don’t feel like I really deserve him, but I am so thankful I have him.

The distance still gets to me, but I’m doing my best to stay patient.  I have expressed my fears regarding this matter to him a few times and I’m sure I will again at some point.  That was one of the driving forces behind my meltdown.  The anxiety just got to me.  I have never been a patient person.



Stella learns Svenska

I have a problem with bottling up my feelings and they all kind of overflowed on Sunday.  A mini-meltdown, I guess you could call it.  So, now I’m supposed to be writing every day per Sir’s instruction.  I’ll probably just write a blog post here every day because I forgot the password to my online journal.   I can’t guarantee any of it will be interesting.

It isn’t easy for me to write on command.  My mind kind of freezes.

Maybe I’ll just write about myself…

I’m learning to speak Swedish.  I already know a few words anyway, my dad’s side of the family is of Swedish descent.  We used to eat a lot of Scandinavian foods at holidays.  No, not lutefisk.  Homemade lefse and LOTS of it.  In fact, my great grandpa was born in Sweden and was probably a teenager when they came to the US.  My grandparents could speak Swedish and Norwegian.  I wish I had taken advantage before they passed away….  I get jealous of people who still have grandparents because mine have been gone for years…

Anyway.. that’s a sore subject.  It always has been.  Instant tears, basically.

Learning Swedish will give me a distraction from my anxiety.  Or, I hope it will.  I bore easily, so I constantly need something new to challenge my mind.  What better than an entirely new language?

On that same note, maybe that’s why I’m so dissatisfied with my job.  It isn’t challenging me.  In an attempt to fix it, my boss is giving me a different job and hiring someone else to do mine but I don’t foresee that lasting more than a few months before boredom sets in again.

Today has been a mediocre day.  I haven’t felt overly anxious but I also feel a little bit like I’ve just been coasting through.  There isn’t much more on my mind.






Feeling better

Yesterday was rough.  It’s better now but I still feel a little off.  To be honest, I’ve just overwhelmed with life.  Being in the hospital threw me off and stuck me with so many bills I can’t afford.  It’s okay I guess.  Somewhere along the line I have to understand my life is more valuable than money… that infection could have killed me.  I know that.  But why don’t I believe It?

I have Sir and I am thankful.  To be quite honest, I worried very much that my rash words would be enough to drive him away.  I just had so many feelings… so many anxieties and fears and they all came tumbling out in a series of poorly thought out text messages.

I spent the last 30 minutes writing “I am a good slave because Master tells me so” over and over again.  Even now I’m trying to repeat those words in my head, to make them stick.  I want to trust him and part of me absolutely does.  But part of me is still a terrified little girl.

Adventures in the ER

I haven’t written in awhile.  Part of that was because I didn’t have much to write about, and part of it was because I was extremely sick.  I need to write about this experience because I need to get it out of my head… this can never happen again.

At 3 AM this morning, I had my 8th and final IV full of antibiotics.  Strong ones, the kind meant for serious, antibiotic resistant infections.  I am still taking, and will be for awhile, oral antibiotics.  I really don’t know how it happened or where it came from, but a small bump appeared under my right eye on Saturday and by Tuesday morning I was in the emergency room hooked to an IV and waiting on a CT scan.

I had a fever and was lethargic.  On Monday evening, I had a dream in which I died.  The pressure on my eye was so much that my vision was blurred.  A few years ago, I had something similar on my knee but it never got to this level.  The doctor was worried that the pressure from the lump, which had grown to probably 4-5 inches in diameter (keep in mind, this is on my face) was putting pressure on my sinuses and, possibly, my brain.  Luckily the CT scan showed this was not the case.

I was mildly allergic to one of the antibiotics but because of the severity of the infection, the only solution was to slow down the IV drip.  So a 1.5 hour thing turned into 2.5 hours. There is also a good chance that one or more of the IVs infiltrated the vein, so I have to keep a close eye on my arms for skin changes.  These antibiotics will actually eat skin tissues if they escape the veins.

The doctor said that this can happen to anyone (bad bacteria lives on our skin, unfortunately) but it kind of threw my life into rather harsh perspective.  Specifically when it comes to my diet.  I already do the calorie counting thing… but I am a firm believer that food is our best medicine and I was NOT following that belief.  It’s interesting, my stress level has been at 100% throughout this ordeal but I have not once craved anything sugary or carby.  I’m just done with it.. the alcohol, the sugar, the bread.  Maybe it didn’t directly cause my infection, but I know it played a part.

It’s hard being so alone here.  My parents drove 90 miles to sit with me in the ER and I am thankful (they’ve even offered to help me with the bill, because my high-deductible insurance won’t cover most of it).  Unfortunately, I was alone for the remaining IV appointments.  I had a TV and started re-reading the The Shining, but those hours were long. I know Sir would have been there too if he could have.  The distance frustrates me, I have to be honest.  It frustrates me a lot.



Every Sunday I type out a post about how much I hate Sundays. Today is no different.  I don’t hate them because I barely get to talk to Sir (although I do miss him) but because these are my last hours before yet another week of a job that is boring me to tears.

This particular Sunday is made worse because it’s also my last day of being 27. I know that 28 isn’t old, I don’t think it is… I just thought my life would be a lot different by now.

On a different note – Sir sent me a few links yesterday to posts he thought might interest me or be helpful.  Every single one spoke to me in various ways and made me realize a few things. The first being that I need to be better at trusting him.  He has given no indication that he is going to hurt me and, unlike all the others, he has raised no red flags in my mind.  The second, I need to learn to completely give up control to him.

It’s a defense mechanism, trying to keep hold of even the tiniest shred of control. I love Sir and I want him to have it all. It’s a choice I need to make.  My submission at its deepest level is not a choice. I need it, but I still need to make the choice to trust and obey.  The choice to hand over the leash.

Rome wasn’t built in a day and none of this is going to happen overnight, but I’ve renewed my resolve.  There is a lot of physical distance between Sir and I and it would be easy to just pretend to give up that control, pretend to follow the rules and complete my tasks.  I do not and will not do that because I respect (and love!) Sir far too much. Besides, a lot of those rules are propelling me toward my own goals and I would only be selling myself short.  He is in control and I trust him. Pleasing him makes me happy and that’s really all I want.

Won’t you fly high, free bird

At this time last year I was in the process of ending an emotionally abusive relationship.  In fact, just a few days after my birthday I ended it completely after he threatened to kill us both.  Why?  Because I wanted Mexican food for my birthday lunch and he was “so fucking sick of that place”.  Totally a reason to drive someone off a bridge, right?

After I ended it, I felt so free.  Fittingly, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird came on my Pandora station.  That song is MY song now.

The effects of that relationship still linger.  I am still cautious and slow to trust, still anxious, still believe that I don’t deserve to be loved or happy.  I still assume that everyone has a motive to hurt me.  Sir tries hard to convince me otherwise.  It’s not that I don’t believe him, but that my anxiety is constantly trying to convince me otherwise.

My instinct is to run, even though I have nothing to run from.