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BDSM with Eccentricities

November 2nd, 2009

1850167996_ecd31c4947_oThis whole catching up financially thing is going to take longer than I’d hoped and it’s making me nervous.  We have things we need and we can’t buy them yet because M’s paycheck is still spent the second it touches His fingertips due to back bills and such.  Like, Him getting a raise was so totally supposed to magically put us in perfect financial shape and we were supposed to be able to buy whatever we wanted right the fuck now without any sort of catching up period, right? Right??!?

Why, yes! Yes, I am an impatient soandso.

But, seriously? While I am getting a little antsy, I’m really only kidding about thinking our finances would miraculously reverse themselves and the needs are mostly glorified wants.  Like, we have plenty of clothes that aren’t falling apart and at least fit us comfortably.  But they’re completely out of style and/or could use some taking in.  And we could definitely use more of them.  We’ve made do for a year.  We can make do for another month if we have to.  It’s just annoying.

Oops.  What I meant to say was: I’m so grateful M has a job in the current economy and we can pay our bills!

Ya know what? I am.  But I’m so sick of hearing it when I bitch about His job.  The money is not consolation enough for the bullshit He’s dealing with (Still!) or the fact that I still rarely see Him even when He’s home.

It’s like offering me a peanut as a consolation prize when the grand prize was an eight bedroom mansion in Maui complete with an olive green 2009 Mustang convertible and a navy blue Eddie Bauer Explorer (Can you tell I’m a Ford fan?), two jet skis, a pool, a hot tub, a jacuzzi bathtub, a ginormous kitchen and an all expense paid, three month cruise that takes you everywhere in the world while the team from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition deck out the house any way you want regardless of price.  And not even a fresh roasted peanut still in the shell.  A dried up, overcooked peanut that’s already been de-shelled and tastes like ass.

I feel like a yo-yo.

Every once in a while, something will fill me up with confidence.  And it’ll bubble up to the surface, the water tension barely restraining what’s inside.  The bubble will dance precariously amidst its cloud of bubbly friends as long as nothing disturbs the water.  But the second a frog leaps onto a nearby lily pad, the water tension loses its grip and the confidence floats off into the air.  

From there, I have two directions.  Rage or depression.  And since rage so easily gets me into trouble, I’ve been veering more toward depression.  And then I come here and tell you how much I suck and in a couple weeks I get tired of the depression and buck up and tell you how awesome I am.  It’s kinda disgusting, huh?

I was totally gonna try to break the cycle, but I am a functioning freakshow, after all, and cycles is what we do.

There’s this thing I do.  And it’s part of why I think I keep myself miserable and I’m not really sure how to stop it.  I will pick myself apart until I think there’s nothing else to beat myself up for.  Spend a week or so wanting to die.  Lash out at anyone who tries to help me (namely, Master).  And then, suddenly, I can’t remember why I was so devastated, and I’m so happy I could burst.

And then something will go wrong.  I’ll drop a plate or chip a nail or have a bad hair day or forget to wash my favorite shirt the night before Master wants to take me to the office or lose a penny or… I’m not kidding.  Stuff that small and petty will be enough to drag me back into that pit of beating the fuck out of myself.  And I’ll find all new things to hate about myself.  So now, not only can I hate myself for the things I hated myself for before.  I can hate myself for new things! Isn’t that just peachy-keen, jelly bean?

Ugh.  I am a neurotic egghead.  And a bit of a drama queen.  (Dear Master – There.  I told them for you.  You don’t have to record me saying it, now.  Love – Your piggy slut)

Why do I tell you all this stuff?

To be honest, I think it’s so you know that it could always be worse.  You could be me!

Don’t get me wrong.  My life, on the surface, is almost perfect.

I have a decent, affordable apartment in a shit neighborhood that I simultaneously love and hate (the neighborhood and the apartment) and am really going to miss when we move.  (I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep without the sirens.)  I am in a kick ass – if bumpy, but all relationships bounce, and ours never bounces that hard – relationship with an awesome man who has a shit job that pays really well, who takes care of me to the best of His ability, who tries really hard to keep me happy when I deserve it and who loves me way more than a slave has any right to be loved.  I have three birds, rather than just the one that was originally my dream, and even though they’re annoying as all get out sometimes, I couldn’t have asked for a better family.  And I have a job (sort of) writing.

So being me isn’t all that bad if you don’t have to live inside my head.  It could be so much worse.  I mean, I know people whose eccentricities (Last night, for the first time, we watched the SVU where Stabler’s daughter gets arrested for breaking into some couple’s house and is diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  His mom calls her crazy “eccentricities”.  I like that much better.) are far more pronounced and debilitating than my own.  And I’m so incredibly grateful for my life on the surface.  But can I have an eccentricities transplant, please? Just for a little while.  Cause I’m sure I’ll miss them if they’re gone, too.  They’re part of what make me who I am.  But I’d like a break, please.

On a more relationship related note, Master has been much more goal oriented lately.  He’ll cuff my hands together when I’m getting mouthy to remind me of my place, or plug my ass with the Pfun for hours (Yum! Pfun is my new favorite butt toy.  No lie.) when I’ve not been climbing-the-walls horny, or whipping me all day to keep me uncomfortable.

My mood-flopping is not conducive to His goals, so I’ve been more carefully watching for triggers and stepping gingerly around potholes.  I sort of have a one track mind, though, so when I get stuck on something introverted, I have trouble paying attention to things outside myself.  This BDSM with eccentricities stuff is hard work!

I am hopelessly in love with my man and our relationship is on a pretty even keel right now.  He has His own eccentricities and they bug the shit out of me sometimes, just as mine do Him, but I’m happy I have Him.  Now that I’ve let someone in, I can’t imagine being me alone.

This morning, when I started my headlong plunge into self-loathing, He immediately began reassuring me that I am hot and I had turned Him on immensely with naked Pilates this morning.  It felt really good to hear.  It’s not as if He doesn’t show me.  He can’t keep His hands (or His whips, which are really just an extension of His hands, lately) off my body and His cock instantly springs to attention.  But sometimes a girl likes to hear it, you know? It stopped the plunge almost as quickly as it started.

And the voices went, “Ah… We see what you did there, you tricksy man.”  But instead of brushing Him off and going back to hating myself, I think I’ll let this smile linger.  It feels nice on my lips.

At Master’s insistence, I’ve been keeping my nails painted red.  I need an emery board and some household gloves to protect them when I’m doing dishes and such.  In the meantime, I’m just dealing with having to repaint them after they’ve been in water too long.  It annoys Him more than me.  I like painting my nails.

I do, however, hate the color.  I haven’t complained because I know He loves it.  But I hope some day He might give me a chance to earn other colors or something.  I’d love to change it up sometimes, rather than always wearing the same color.

Uh… Did I really just say I wanted to earn other colors? No, no, no… I actually meant He should just give them to me.  Like, because He loves me and wants me to be happy.

I totally just screwed myself, didn’t I?

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  1. November 2nd, 2009 at 17:20 | #1

    Rayne,

    Yep, you totally svrewed yourself; or did you realy bless yourself with even more attention from Him. Only time will tell (and hopefully you will too 😉 ).

    I totally get the whole self loathing thing. And it seems like we do things to intensify that feeling when it starts. For example, my standard reaction to not having enough money to make the bills is…to spend monsy on things I don’t need; which makes me even more upset with myself over the lack of money. It took over a decade to get to a place where I don’t do that very often. I still do it occasionally, though. It’s not helping that my current position, though it pays well enough, is so tenuous.

    Dave

  2. November 3rd, 2009 at 07:36 | #2

    @dweaver999 That’s where we keep stepping in it. M’s company has no qualms with letting someone go because they feel they’re not contributing enough. Usually with evidence to the contrary and even if they don’t have anyone to replace them. So even if He busts His ass, they could potentially let Him go just because. No one’s job is secure there because the CEO, god bless him, is a child.

    I absolutely do things to intensify the feeling. I continually berate myself and blow things out of proportion and… “Self Haters Anonymous”. That’s what we need. Lol.

  3. November 3rd, 2009 at 18:21 | #3

    Rayne,

    I can see it now:

    “Hi, I’m Dave and I hate myself.”

    “Hi Dave. We don’t hate you.”

    hehe

    Dave

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