• Against the Walls – Moments with Sir

    Sir and Sub Brother have been home for a few days. It’s been nice to have them back. But it is also lonely because it feels as if my issues are walls that keep us all separated from each other. Tonight, I took my meds early, took several deep breaths, and then asked Sir to play. I expected him to say, “no.” He’s relaxed the “no touching” rule since they’ve come back, but… play is a whole other level of… potential landmines. Instead he asked me to sit and had me explain my feelings and thinking to him. I squirmed and stammered and blushed a lot. It was uncomfortable to…

  • Poorly Forward

    Sir is Sir again for the moment. We’re not sure what we’re doing… none of us. I feel stupid and childish, but I have this deep sense of upset that no one has… answers. Maybe that’s what religion is for, because, deep down, the majority of us are children who need a grown up to look to… to have the answers… to be… in charge. There’s some comfort in that. But Sir is just Sir, and I don’t believe in deities, so I’m stuck with the child in the darkness syndrome, wanting someone to know everything, protect me from everything, have the answers to everything… I am struggling terribly with…

  • Hopeless Coward

    I have a psychiatrist again, he’s a psychiatric NP, but the same basic idea. I first went to see him because my PTSD got triggered badly from the biopsy and the procedures I had and I had to have surgery and I thought I just needed some meds to make it through the surgery and then everything would calm down. I thought he was just going to be able to give me some meds to make it through the surgery and then everything would calm down. Some of the meds helped. The meds he gave me helped. It took a few tries, it always takes a few tries with me,…

  • Facing Fears

    A while back, I had an article published on a friend’s professional blog. It was popular, apparently. He told me a month or so ago that it was the top three for that month. Now it is in the hall of fame, or something like that. So people will continue to see it. Forever. This is good. This should be good. I’m a real writer. Right? But then I feel like this should be a good blog. A real blog. Not bullshit anymore. I should actually write real articles and edit them and be focused and have a topic for each post and well constructed… But I started writing this…

  • Moving Day!

    Since Christmas is coming and I’m already broke, I decided to spend money I don’t have to get better paid hosting (I don’t want to pay for another year of WordPress.com crappiness…) I’m super responsible. I’m not sure why the guys are still with me. It’s been that kind of a month.  Already. Anyway, WordPress tells me that if you are an email subscriber, you should continue to get updates via email as I migrated your subscription to the new site (fingers crossed!).  If you follow me through WordPress.com, apparently updates will still show up in your reader, but not in your email, so you will need to resubscribe at…

  • Hating

    I’ve been having a very difficult time. Medications are making some things easier, but ironically, unlocking doors to other things that my anxiety had been keep securely shut. Last week I had several… conflicts… with people.  None of them were huge.  All of them resolved easily and calmly.  Most of them weren’t even my fault, I just got put in the position of patching things up because… I’m good at knowing what to say to people to smooth things over. I rationally understand that those things weren’t significant conflicts.  I rationally understand that they were minor, and for the people involved, they were probably forgotten practically as soon as they…

  • Alone

    I’m in a lot of trouble.  It seems to be that kind of season… I got punished after work today, and I’m getting punished again tonight, and I’m banned from Facebook indefinitely. And I feel incredibly lonely. I’m very stressed about being punished. And I’m very ashamed.  I’m ashamed of this aspect of my relationship and my dynamic.  I feel it is the hardest for anyone to relate to.  It makes me feel incredibly alone, because… literally no one I know has the same dynamic I have. And at times like these when I am scared, and anxious, and nervous, and sad… I most want to talk to someone… to…

  • The Little Things

    So, first, I just have to say…  HOLY SHIT I almost just wrote this post on my vanilla blog!  SHIT!  I’m losing my grip, I have too many personalities!  And fuck, I hate having two personas and never being able to cross them.  Because of my article on Writing About Writing some people have responded to it on Facebook.  Some of their responses have been incredibly heartfelt and I want to reach out to them, and I CAN’T!  I don’t have a stealth Facebook profile, and before now, I never thought I needed one (what am I going to do, friend my two friends who know both of me and give myself – and…

  • Seen!

    I have a friend I’ve mentioned here before.  He is a writer and runs an uber-popular professional blog about writing.  Because I am a kind of geyser and sit quietly for a long time building up pressure before having explosions of risk-taking, I have followed him and chatted with him in small ways for quite a long time, but recently took a plunge (after reading one of his old posts) and reached out to him with some very personal things (big risk) and was very messy and impulsive and apologized too much all over him, and luckily he was okay with my messiness. He occasionally posts writing by “guest bloggers”…

  • Keeping Writing I Hate

    So… things have been happening in my other life where I don’t talk about… this life (it’s so much fun having multiple lives!) I may have some people poking over and reading this site and, that is a really terrifying thought. When first it struck me that I might get a bump in traffic to this site, I was mortified at the thought of people reading my old stories (the ones up there in the black menu bar…)  I wanted to take them down, and I contemplated it seriously for a while.  I considered just unlinking their pages so they couldn’t be seen until the traffic died down (if any…