I’m not always so melancholy.

Yesterday was just such a good day that today felt….

Normally the holidays are for family. This is the first year I’ve been without them on a holiday. My aunt always does bbq’s and this year she said “well I work now, it’s just another day”. I thought really, I’ve worked everyday since I’m 14, sorry after your 16 year vacation the 3 days a week you work is to taxing to deal with an extra 2 people in your house.

But I have to stop with the sadness.

Bright side- it was a beautiful day. I did something on my own that ive never done before. It was nice not to accommodate anyone else’s schedule. 

I look forward to next year more now. I know I can pick up and head to the beach anytime the weathers good. 

I also know ever though family sucks, I’m lucky to have many people to care for and that care about me in return. 

I’d love to write of happiness and joy, but this just isn’t the week for that. Instead, I’m grateful. 

I’m even grateful for the smelly dogs cuddled up to me.😝

Empty

today was an empty day.

I got up, walked the dogs. Headed to the beach. Layed there for an hour, headed home. Took a bath.

I think Sir thought a day like this would be good, but it just kind of reinforced the empty in me.

Tomorrows back to work. Back to stress.

I watched breakfast at Tiffani’s. I always cry at the end. 

I don’t know how to balance my need for people and my need to be alone. 

Last night I’d put it in my head to contact a friend about being a foster parent. Today I know it’s a shit idea. 

There’s too many things going on for that and too many ways it can lead to heartache. 

So now I sit here, after a crappy healthy dinner, still feeling empty.

My Grace

Nuns…. When life gets bad they find me.

It’s a weird thing.

When I was 19 my mother started dating a man 15 years her senior. A few months later I moved back in with them. 2 months later, they were both in accidents, that made them unable to work. I picked up the slack ,2 jobs and school.

He never, until the very end made me feel like anything less than his daughter. 

He is a long story…

But the point, he had a cousin, in her eighties, never married and worked in a church as a maid and cook for the priests. She lived in her parents home of gothic antiques. I loved her. She’d come over and we would cook and dance and sing and laugh. When she pasted I was left the most favorite of her treasures. As she called it… The beautiful creepy stuff.

So one day making pizzas I told her… The nuns follow me. She said “what?”

I told her before anything big happens I see them everywhere I go. Before 9-11, they took the ferry with me and sat next to me for 2 weeks. Right before my grandparents died they were there. When I was pregnant they were always with me. All types of nuns… But always …. There. G said it was god walking with you and they are sent to keep you safe. 

So as of Wednesday the nuns are back. I see them everyday. I know it’s Her way of saying I’m here, we are protecting you. 

Something will happen and its soon. I’m just waiting to see and waiting for the time when they go away again. 

The nun doll and 3 other objects in my house were hers. I will never get rid of them. She was one of the most precious people ever.

I remember 

I spent the day with my goddaughter. She made me remember.

I was there when she came into the world, so often C will say, “she must be yours, not mine”.

She starts high school next week, she has all good nerves and really excited. I did her hair and makeup, helped her complete her last reading assignment.

She reminded me of what I wanted. 

I don’t know the how or the when but I think I’m going off this path. I’ve always wanted that unconditional love a mother has for a child and tomorrow I’ll make the first of the calls to see if I can have that.

She’s not perfect, no where near it. She has ashburgers, ocd but she’s also gifted. I’m the only person that understands how she thinks. There’s a part of me that still believes in a different time …. They’d have … Seen my issues, so similar to hers.

High school will be hard, she’s promised to call and text, a promise from me , C will never know of our conversations. She will have it hard because she is so pretty and different and above all kind. Not any description you add to a “normal” teenager. 

It was a good day.

I’m so tired, a good tired.

Dolls

in this move a box of hidden things was discovered.

I used to collect dolls. Most of them fairies, all collectable and beautiful. Through all of the many moves with my mother they were the only things that were never left behind.

Fast forward to my late 20’s and I had a room full of dolls. My exhusband hates them, they creeped him out. We got engaged and at 29, I gave all of these dolls to my goddaughter, well except 3.

I had one that was from the 30’s handmade and not at all like the others. She was a nun in full habit. The next was one that was a russian queen and the third a tiny little farie. Unbeknownst to him I packed then with care into 3 different wine holders and stored them with other odds and ends. We moved into a house, then I moved, this tote staying in the back of my closet. 

Going through stuff one day, I found the nun, she went into a book case. Then at Christmas I found the queen, she joined the nun. When I came here, I found the last one stored with my favorite books and pictures of my grandparents. She went into a glass case.

Since the first separation my mother buys me a witch doll every year. Her way of being rebellious. They are not beautiful like the ones I had collected, but I guess it’s her way after hearing for years “no more dolls” of still holding onto that tradition.

A couple of weeks ago I wrapped up that little doll and sent her to a new home. She is just a small token of strength. A symbol, that something so pretty and delicate can survive. It felt good to give that small peice of me away. The other two will forever stay in the book case. 

Oh the nuns…. lol, that’s a story for another time, but they are back. I’ve been seeing them everywhere I go. Thank you Gracie, I know your watching.

Bad news and pools…

my mother picked me up… Over to get a much needed pedicure then a stop at my aunts.

There’s little to just about no food here so she gave me lunch and we sat down. My mother proceeded to break down her test results.

I will say this…. If the worst happens I will sue the fuck out of her doctor for sitting on this. Masses in her uterus and lungs. No other reason for her rapid weight loss. 

So now I’m faced with not really loosing a parent, but much more my child.

Sir is worried because I’m too calm. I’ve been drinking just enough to stay numb but not pass the point of angry.

I went to C’s, jumped in the pool. Had dinner. I swear I’d starve to death without her and my aunt.

Layed out in the sun.

I still haven’t cried. She has so many more tests to go through. I’m just feeling nothing. This is the one case where the ice queen comes in handy. I know rationally I’ve shut down. I need too.

She made me promise I’d get my procedure done before she does anything. I’m at the point I just don’t care. 

Little R called cursing, she’s on her way over, something to do with her boyfriend, sluts, the city and she’s bringing booze. 

She not prepared for the me that will answer the door. 

I’m gone……. Numb, breathing, just a shell. 

Until the anger sets in.

Aren’t we all searching for the same thing?

yesterday started with an email from a very emotional headspace, saved to draft as I do know when I’m not myself. Sent later because all of the words in it are true and authentic.

It was followed by an analytical conversation and a more analytical email. It’s a discussion that will be had at another time in the very near future.

The truth if it is…. Aren’t we all searching for love? Yes the kinky crap is great, a wet cunt and a hard cock are a glourious thing, but without the four letter word being attached, isn’t it all just fucking? I mean, if it is, so be it.

The question of new me and old me….. Old me would have never had the courage to pose those questions because I know the answers. I would have just stayed the course and accepted things the way they are.

New me needs more, not in that needy subbie “look at me” way, but I need the intangible things. I need that much more than the whip or the crop. 

Old me was content in being a slave, it was easy to say “he said do this….don’t think, trust, obey”. New me not so much, I’m more than that. I think it comes with the self confidence you helped me build. You don’t like titles, I’ve always known that and in the beginning I needed one, but now? 

So at just over the year mark, I’ve learned more about me than I had in the previous 30+years and that’s a great thing. Honestly even old me vs new me is ….. Wrong.

 I’ve always been me. 

I was just hiding. 

Early

i went to sleep early.

Too early. My job, mother and too many other things stressing me out. My stomach already acting up for the past 3 days and I just needed sleep. Like clock work at 4 something in the morning I had the dream again, waking in a puddle of not my cunt juices but tears.

It seems my body has decided tears are my new wet. My sex drive being null, but my subconsciene is having a feild day as I sleep.

Over a week ago I had a dream that I did remember, I was hit by a car. It was extremely lucid. I was crossing my street it was dead quite and sunny and I looked up as the car was inches away. 

I paid it no mind, I didn’t wake up panicked or crying. I figured it was just my horrible drop and my brains way of rationalizing my feelings for her. It was very much like getting hit by a car.

Now the dreams are worse. They are not lucid. I can’t remember what happens, I only know that I wake with such a sense of loss, like my heart is being ripped out.

It’s akin to the loss of nana, a great pain and really overwhelming. Today since Sir was gone and I was alone, I just got up. There’s no reason to stay in bed and give into whatever is going on in my mind. There’s no Sir to hold or at least feel next to me. She is gone with little hope of returning.

I feel the insomnia starting again. 

I used to fear closing my eyes, it was for a much different reason than now. I used to dream of horrid physical pain, now it’s purely emotional.

Funny note- when I got up the dogs looked at me like are you nuts? Neither wanting to be awake, nevermind eat breakfast. Poor dogs must have thought, crap, here we go again!

Sir is home and I hope getting some better sleep than I am. 

I had hoped to speak with her before she left, but I don’t think she wants to. If I’ve learned nothing in life, I’ve learned that you can’t make people do something that they don’t want to.

My hope is that her time away is joyful. That she has adventures and romances. All things the horrible girl side of me will be jealous of, but my rational side will be happy about. She needs to ….. Enjoy herself and get away from everyone’s expectations of her. I know this, since I wish I could do the same. I long to sometimes just be. Too have no pressure other than to breathe.

Then there was my mother. In her typical fashion calling and saying she must see me. Full of drama and secrets. Truth, she played it right, because if I knew the topic of conversation she had in mind I would have told her to relax and get over it.

She feels since I’ve moved I’ve withdrawn. Truth is I did that ages ago. We only have small talk and discussions of her problems, never mine.

She is not equipt to handle mine.

I sometimes wonder if I’m equipt to handle them either.