Sadly Saturday

I woke up this morning craving eggs Florentine. I squelched the urge and made myself a cup of earl grey. I’d eat eggs Florentine every day of the week if I could. Lucky for me I’m particular about how they’re prepared so there’s only one place in town that makes it the way I like and they only serve on weekends. If I’m flush I go for brunch. These days I’m dream about them, wake up longing for them, and find myself a cheap breakfast at home instead. This morning it was organic high fiber cereal and prunes.

I don’t work again until tuesday and I’m finding the hours stretch in dragging drudgery. My bed is made. I’ve picked most of the clover out of the front lawn. Flower beds are weeded and dead-headed… I could clean the bathroom. The basement. There are dirty dishes in the sink. Laundry is done. I’ve gone through a weeks worth of mail. I need to go through my bills and come up with some sort of budget.

Money… sigh. I cringe from thinking of it. I’ve made a number of life changes that have reduced my income to a third of what it used to be. It’s been tight. Unfortunately my relationship with money has been ambivalent at best (until now). I still have a way to go in proper handling of finances. The next few months are going to be trying. Budgeting and accounting will test everything I’ve learned over the last few years. May I not be found wanting.

I cried myself to sleep last night. A hole opened in my chest and agony poured out. I haven’t felt such raw pain in a long time. It was a brutal physical sensation, my guts clenched, my hands clutched and fisted in bed sheets, my eyes wide open and staring at darkness, one or two stars visible in the night sky outside my window, wracked with sobs so deep I had to hold myself from convulsing. I struggled to stay silent; not wanting to attract the notice of my sister/roommate who was still awake and moving about in the back of the house.  

…I took a break from writing to do the dishes. I checked my phone messages, (I’ve been loath to answer the phone while in this state. I feel barely functional), my mother is coming thru town and would like for me to bring her some things from storage. I’m going to have to call her back and I don’t want to. My relationship with my mother is… strained. I’m not feeling balanced and seeing her, interacting with her, could send me into tailspins.

I feel unprepared for all I’ve taken on by standing on my own. We all need to grow up sometime… right? I’ve been putting in the time and I know I can do this, but I’m wailing inside, “I’m not ready”. I’m not. Apparently the Universe feels differently. Armadillo says we don’t often have the option of control. Goat-head says I’m strong, I can do this, Summer is on my side… Owl (my sister and roommate), says she’s having issues and do I have time to talk on sunday? 

My behavior as of late has been less then desirable. I’ve come a long way but in times of stress I still fall back on old self-destructive behavior patterns. I know the last few months have been as hard on Owl as it’s been on me. She’s spent most of her life idolizing me and it’s difficult to watch me become all to human and fallible. She’s been really patient so far, too patient, and tomorrow we’re going to practice having one of those difficult conversations. 


Freaky Friday

I love mid-spring afternoons. The ground steaming from yesterdays rain. Wind blowing chill hot-wet against my face. I love to garden on days like today. It’s easy to pull weeds. The mulch is dark and smells like warm chocolate. The flowers, caught between extremes, glow neon against green. I know I should wear sunscreen but I don’t. I pretend the light is benevolent and wholesome. 

It’s been a long sort of week/month/year.

My digital camera disappeared itself two weeks ago. I think it was stolen from my purse. Major bummer. It’s got a lot of sentimental value, it was a christmas gift from the Good Doctor. Replacing it won’t cost much but it hurts to lose it. There were pictures on the card, a second round of hospital shots taken while Bunny was awake and alert. Gone, all gone. Sad. 

Loss is a bitter pill and so unavoidable.

No pictures for the time being. Perhaps a month or so before I can afford a replacement. I’ll just have to paint pictures in your head with my words. 

I went to the medical facility to check out likely photo sites. Absolutely cool tunnels in which dead hospital beds lay abandoned, rust flaked plaster and ceiling tile in dusty piles on a few. I could picture Blue Bunny in yoga poses on striped bed springs, lit by damp florescent light. I can’t wait. 



Me, my Self, and i.

Holiday weekend… Dog sitting at Armadillo’s place. She and Goat-head are off vacationing in Southern SomePlace with the Good Doctor. Most of my friends are vacationing… I am holding down the fort and watching the Riddick Trilogy. Not the most tantalizing of positions to be in. I’m feeling a little left out. I know I opted not to go… but I feel left out none the less. Left out on a number of different of levels and doing my best to substitute housework for what ever else I might be missing.   

The dogs are about in the same shape I am… slightly confused but rolling with it. 

The tree frog started barking while I was watching Practical Magic, a sure sign of snow to come… only it’s late May… A heavy rain storm perhaps? Who knows.

What I know? I’m mostly alone. The man who leaves me dumb-struck is not to be found. I hung out with a childhood friend and her sister earlier today. Her sister looks a lot like my ex-roommate and one of my ex-loves, which tripped me out a little at first to be honest. I kept looking at his smile, his hands and mannerisms on her face and body. Nothing like keeping it in the family. 

The irony is of course that the man who leaves me brainless is brother to both of them… as well as the ex-roommate. If it gets more complicated then this on anything other than day time television I’d like to know. To be truthful I think I do it to myself. By picking the ones unavailable for emotional intimacy I save myself from something that stands a chance of working. Avoidance I think. 

I’m bummed, and trying my best not to be. Not good. 

My trainee called to talk about being played with… with someone other then me. Not a problem. I wanted him/her to be in a position where they might like to be played with. Lately I’ve noticed just how much I’d like to play and how difficult it can become when I’ve cut off my access to the local and national BDSM circuit. I’m hoping to play in a manner that’s meaningful sometime soon… shit I’m hoping to do something meaningful sometime soon. Right now I’m living quite deliberately while having a lot of compassion for my faults and shortcomings.

I’m alone. 

I feel alone. And I know I’ve chosen to be where I am. That’s the bitch of it; I’ve chosen to be who I am, where I am. I’m rubbed raw with it. The worst of it is that I wouldn’t trade it in for anything. I know what I picked when I picked it. I’m mostly aware of what I’m doing, additionally I’m mostly aware of my intentions and the outcomes related to my actions. 
I do the best I can for what I’m given. I am the best person I know how to be. Just like everyone else.  

My Inner Naughty Nurse

So one of the things Blue Bunny and I wanted to do while in the hospital and didn’t was a Naughty Nurse with Patient photo shoot in her privet room. We were ready to rock and roll, (I had packed my fetish gear in a duffle bag and had it with me), when the nurse on duty walked in to inform us that (sadly) Blue Bunny was well enough to move to a room complete with roommate. 

Bummer. But Bunny and I have made arrangements to shoot at a medical facility on an off weekend sometime soon. Keep your eyes peeled… should be grand. 

I love how Kink and BDSM lets you play with all the heartache and fears that accompany life. 

I’m listening to a soundtrack given me by a man/boy/girl/woman… growing up soon in a neighborhood near me… goofy… sorry. Remember the stupid-tree I fall out of and hit every branch on my way down? He’s it. I’m loving my current listening adventure. Made him a CD in return… mating rituals… snort… 

Let’s Get Into Liminal

I’ve been putting off writing in hopes my current liminal stage would sort itself out… I’m beginning to get the feeling it may last for some time. Waiting to write may not be practical. Fortunately/Unfortunately the more I practice living in the Grey instead of buying into a Black and White world the more I find myself in a state of being between. It’s uncomfortable. 

Often I find clear writing requires clear thinking and there have been too many life changes as of late for me to produce or experience orderly thoughts or feelings. Everything is unsettled. I won’t hold it against anyone should you choose to check back in a few weeks. Feel free.

I’m taking the summer off school in order to focus on grounding back into my Self. Part of the kink burnout I spoke of earlier is the result of years of being actively in 24/7 BDSM relationships, (although there were breaks between in order consider the growth and changes brought about by each experience), high-impact living is high-impact living. 

I recently ended a 24/7 contracted D/S relationship that lasted a year and four months. Ummm… different topic…  

Hospitals are Liminal. All the patients suspended in a highly scheduled timeless place. Not really living and mostly forgotten by the rest of the world until they’re well enough to go or dead enough to leave. 

Blue Bunny was discharged late on the sixth day. I brought her home. Bear was waiting for her at the door. She stayed for a few days before going and will be back soon.

Three Daze and Counting

Blue Bunny’s mother drove in today with Blue Jay, a friend of Bunnys. They arrived late but just in time for me to show them where the cafeteria is and pass on useful bits of information. Changing of the guard, if you will. Ma Bunnys shoulders were tight with tension, her eyes bruised and bloodshot. She’s quite undone. I don’t blame her. 

There are a lot of people who love Bunny fiercely. Friends who drive three hours to get here, visit for twenty minutes, and then drive three hours to get home. Friends and family who call from all over the world at all hours. Today Bunny had to answer her cell phone while having a conversation on the room phone. The hell of it is she’s concerned about how everyone else doing/dealing with her being ill. Teary eyed she looked at me and said, “I just don’t know how to be in the right head-space… how to be positive about all of this for everyone. It sucks”. 

It does suck. Being stuck in a hospital, being ill, chronically ill, sucks. There’s damn little reason to enjoy illness; trapped in a small room, being poked at, in pain, drugged, wearing stupid little gowns made of rough fabric so ill-fitting that random body parts bare themselves to any Tom, Dick, or Hairy who happens to be on duty. 

Being ill in a hospital strips us of pride. It’s a leveler. It humbles us, reminds us that we’re only human animals after all, at the mercy of our bodily functions. We eat. We shit. We fuck. We’re born. We’re grow old. We die. 

Grace is not a given. Having a quality life is not a given. Sometimes the hand we’re dealt leaves much to be desired. Sometimes the way we treat ourselves and others leaves much to be desired.  

I sleep at home tonight. I can’t tell you how relieved and spoiled I feel knowing I will get a full eight hours of uninterrupted rest. I get to take a bath in a claw-footed tub, sleep in my own bed. I can eat whatever whenever I like. I can stay or leave as I chose. Luxuriating in the freedom of it I think about Bunny and how she can’t. 

Of course it sucks. It’s more than okay to say that it sucks. It’s completely valid to feel like it sucks. It’s even acceptable to cry about it; entertain Self-Pity at your friendly neighborhood pity-party.  

Hospital Daze

Almost twelve hours after entering the ER Blue Bunny was admitted due to bowel obstruction caused by a flare up of Crohn’s Disease. I stayed with her, translating and mediating, until they got her transfered and settled into a privet room on a different floor. The doctors came by to explain the findings of the CT, give prognoses, and detail continued treatment. They made it clear her hospital stay would be more then a day or two. Three drip bags, the first round of steroids, an anti-nauseant, another high dose of painkillers… I went home to check on her dog, left behind along with my phone during our abrupt early morning departure.

When I got home Bear (a beautiful alpha chow/shepherd mix) was waiting for me by the door. He gripped my wrist in his teeth, mouthing it and whining anxiously. I fed him, watered him, walked him, then commiserated with him on the living room floor. Pinning my shoulder with one paw he licked me from neckline to hairline, paying particular attention to my eyes and ears. I let him, stinky breath and all, he needed the comforting more than I needed to be comfortable.

I took a couple of pulls off a bottle of Hennessy, smoked a little, and thought about how close I had come to loosing Blue Bunny… Bear wasn’t the only one in need of comfort. It’s so easy to forget how tenuous life can be.

I showered. Changed into clean cloths. Packed pillows, an overnight bag, reading materials, a sewing project for Bunny when she’s feeling restless, phone chargers, and other necessary bits. I made my way back to the hospital stopping briefly at a video store. 

Late evening had spilt a sparkling pool of city lights across the valley floor. Pretending to be a pack mule I carried bags, bundles, and pillows, through the quiet maze like halls of hotel hospital to Blue Bunnys privet room on the fifth floor. An attendant brought sheets and blankets for the cool fold out chair they had in place of cot. I squared away belongings and made my bed. Bunny and I called it a night but we didn’t get any sleep. Hospitals can be bad if you’re looking for uninterrupted nap time. Between meds administered every hour, malfunctioning IV drip machines, vitals checked every two hours, semi-frantic Bunny potty trips… 

Blue Bunny Sick

Just days after Spidy went swinging off into the sunset Blue Bunny came to town.

I’m sitting in an ER room, bedside, watching my Blue Bunny breathe. The cobalt bed and aqua blankets are echoed by veins barely covered by translucent skin. She’s no longer writhing, rocking back and forth in fetal position, goosefleshed and shivering from pain. She’s curled on her side, breathing even… 

I’m typing while she rests because I don’t know what else to do. My phone is at home, on the kitchen counter, abandoned in the rush to get her here. I did remember to grab the computer. I’ve done ER visits before, often they take much longer then expected. This time no exception. Six hours and we’re no closer to finding out what’s wrong. But all her vitals are good. They’ve already done an ultrasound and there’s a CT in the works…  

Speaking of CT’s a tech walked in, announced, “CT is ready for you”. Then helped her into a wheelchair and whisked her away.

There are times when my gratitude and awe for modern medicine is overwhelming. This has defiantly been one of those times. I love hospitals. I love watching the people. Yes,there’s sickness, pain, and death. There’s also hope, healing, and a sense of purpose. I feel comfortable in hospitals… 

… They’re back. Blue Bunny balled, arms wrapped around knees pulled tight to her breast and neck, in the dirty sapphire wheelchair headed my direction. She’s panting. In agony…