Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired – Maybe TMI
<Disclaimer: The beginning of this post might just be TMI. You can skip it if you want. I swear I won’t be offended.)
Two weeks before my period, I start to get tired. Real tired. Drank-3-pots-of-coffee-in-two-hours-and-still-having-trouble-staying-awake tired.
A week and a half before, I stop being able to get comfortable in any position. Sleep becomes a little difficult and is somewhat broken. And I start to get bitchy.
At the one week mark, I start getting sick. Mostly stomach issues. I start to become a bit of an introvert and I fight pretty much everything even if it’s actually something I want. Sometimes I want to be drawn out of it. Sometimes I just want to be left alone. My owner’s never much concerned Himself with what I want in these situations because He knows me well enough to know what I need and responds accordingly.
Two to three days before my period I become some insane version of myself that I haven’t seen since the day M saved my life. It gets worse as the days go by and I sleep less and less. And then my period starts, and all is (mostly) right with the world. I still have a little trouble being touched, and I get pissed off at Master’s incessant need to play with my (almost painfully oversensitive) nipples, but I’m in a better mood. The anxiety and depression are gone. And Master and I start speaking the same language again.
Lately, everything’s been starting early. Except the bleeding. That’s coming late.
I don’t sleep well when I’m on my period because Master and I are both kinda grossed out by the idea that I might leak on the sheets, so I’m constantly waking up to check on it.
It’s not an STD. We’re monogamous. It could be stress. It could be PMDD. It could be anything, really. I need to figure out who I should go see first and make an appointment.
The recovery is taking longer, too, giving me about a week and a half of feeling semi-decent (cause I’m still trying to catch up on sleep) and mostly mentally sound, and then it’s right back into it again.
With almost any other shitty situation, I can just roll with the punches. I try really hard not to let things I have no control over get me down. I bitch and moan and try to find a compromise when possible, but ultimately I’ll plod along like a donkey with a carrot and do what I’m told if that’s the right way to handle the situation.
But this shit is pissing. me. the fuck. off. It’s fucking everything up.
Our relationship’s still intact, but our dynamic is all fucked up, and it’s not because He’s become more lax. It’s because I’m pretty much blowing Him off. I hear Him but I don’t really react. Like, at all. Unless He says something I don’t agree with. As if I have that right when I’m behaving the way I am.
I love my owner. One of the best things in the world is to curl up in His arms and let the day slip off my back into nothingness and reconnect with Him. I live for the moments He pets me idly on whatever part of my body He chooses like He does the cats (I promise He doesn’t touch their sex parts! Ew!) and the mornings we wake up and just lay in each other’s arms.
I enjoyed the days that I was uber submissive (when compared to the days I’m uber cuntish) and behaved more like we both want me to behave. When I knelt because I felt the urge to show my submission, and obeyed almost every order happily and without hesitation. When the terror of being what I truly enjoy and realizing this isn’t just me acting out and I truly suck at it didn’t overwhelm the need to show Master how I truly feel about Him, His ownership, our relationship.
I long for the day we can climb out from beneath all this shit that is the repercussions of our lives before each other and get a place where He can beat me in a way He hasn’t been able to in years. I miss that. More than I can say.
I don’t like it when I piss Him off. It makes me feel shitty. I like even less that it happens so frequently that it doesn’t really even hurt Him anymore so much as it just makes Him angry. Not that I want to hurt Him, I just wish I hadn’t brought us to this point.
I want to fix it, I just feel like I don’t know how. I mean the simple answer is to just fucking stop it already. Stop fighting Him, and me, and our dynamic, and what we are to each other and just… be. Why is that so much harder to do than it is to write? It’s ridiculous! The few fleeting moments I’ve been able to do that have been bliss! So what gives?
He’s steadily pulling me back to Him. Back to myself. Back to us.
Kneeling before bed has been reinstated. There have been a few days I did it without thinking. It felt really good. Natural. I swelled up with pride and almost wished it wouldn’t end. And then He’d call me to bed, and I’d drift off to sleep with a smile on my face.
There have been a few days I’ve tried to slip in bed without doing it, and a few that I just plain forgot. I think there was only once, so far, that He let me out of it. That makes me feel cared for. Secure.
I’ve been pushing Him away from my tits because my nipples are insanely oversensitive when I’m on my period (and just slightly so when I’m not) and He’s letting me get away with it less and less. It drives me insane, and I whine, but that He’s still just as obsessed (and maybe a little bit more so) with my body as He was the day He met me makes me feel sexy.
He wants to own me. He enjoys my company and subservience. He’s not really concerned with how much I act out. I’m not going anywhere, and that’s that. And neither is He. So I either stop being a cunt, or live a fairly miserable existence until I do. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But I really want to fix this. I won’t say go back to the way things were. I don’t believe you can go back. Barring some new breakthrough in time travel, you can’t change what happened.
And besides, I don’t want to go back. We’re not even the same people we were back then. We’re so very different. Better, I think, as being us goes.
I want to go forward. Start a new journey. Stop letting the bullshit I can’t control control me. And start living the life I really want to live. With Master by my side and the key to my collar in His pocket.
I think part of that is figuring out this thing with my period and finding some way to alleviate, if not cure, it. Preferably naturally if at all possible. I hate psych meds. :/
P.S. I realize we’ve (or at least I’ve) been here before. They don’t call life a circle for nothin’.