Daily Post 086: Hanging In There If Just Barely

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Wrote this at 2am this morning, but didn’t have access to the Interwebz so I couldn’t post. It’s a bit emo. The emotions needed somewhere to go.
Today isn’t looking any better and it’s only 8am.


 

Today has sucked. And even though on a logical, detached level I know I can go and name off several things that were positive about today, and this week, and this past weekend, right now the overwhelmed introvert part of me who wishes desperately that I were home and able to sleep instead of doing laundry at 2 in the morning wants to sit and rant and scream and cry and rage that everything has sucked for days now.

 

The small moments I eke out where I read a blog here or there, reply with a comment, get one in return has really been the only thing keeping me sane and grounded.

 

How sad that I can’t even remember where the craziness started.

 

I remember witting about the potential, hypothetical, most likely not going to happen marriage idea…

 

/ briefly goes back over last daily post

 

Oh… I did write on Monday. Ok.

 

That means I get to start with the epicness of Tuesday. I biked to the bank hoping to get a money order for rent. I got there at 4:05… Guess when they close. Yep. 4pm.

 

/ flips tables

 

I went ahead and withdrew cash. I didn’t want to pay for rent that way. I wanted a paper trail, which is why I go with a money order instead, but whatever. I trust Trevor, and it’s the last time that I have to pay to him anyway. Not a big deal, and getting the cash meant the trip wasn’t wasted.

 

I biked to the gas station afterwards and got Gatorade then headed to school for the Shading and Lighting lab. So Tuesday ended up being roughly 10 miles instead of my normal 7.

 

Checking my work email is where things got not cool. Due to the Hall of Fame event this month there were two weeks where I was scheduled to work seven days in a row, including the Saturday of my race.

 

If it came between choosing work or my race, work wouldn’t win.

 

So, being the diligent employee that I am, I had emailed Clavan letting him know what was up, and requesting specific days off to make it easier on everyone. No guess work, I would rather not be here these days, by the way I’m taking the late labs for David so he doesn’t have to worry about daycare pick up.

 

Well, in the reply email that I saw on Tuesday it was suggested that I take different days off so I could be in the Shading and Lighting labs instead since their class is so much bigger than the Character Rigging class. I get that. I honestly do. Clavan is trying to make it easier on Tony who is already swamped. Having to fill in for a lab time would suck for him.

 

One of the days Clavan wanted me to work was the 6th. My race day. Soon to turn into my, “fuck work and all that it stands for, “ day. At least that was what I was thinking in my head.

 

Clavan called me at the end of the day and I mentioned how the only day I cared about was the 6th, and why I cared about it. He apologized and said he had forgotten about it. So I’m not working on Saturday. At least not this week. We’ll see how the other weeks play out.

 

The whole shading and lighting class is a cluster fuck this month. Because of the event the schedule is all sorts of jacked up. There’s a solid week where the students don’t have classes because they’re expected to go to panels and different presentations and award events and blah, blah, blah… it’s all noise to me.

 

Because of this we’re in a room that’s too small for the class. We seriously have to high jack chairs from other lecture halls because we’re short by 10, so it’s not even like it’s a small number. It’s pretty significant. And when Tony emailed the scheduling department about it their response was due to Hall of Fame there was nowhere else to put our class. So basically we have to “deal with it” is what I got out of the email conversation.

 

Yep. That happened.

 

I biked home Tuesday evening. It was a better ride than the one Monday. I don’t know if the wheel is behaving or if I’m getting used to the added resistance of the tire hitting the break pad, but there wasn’t wind when I biked home, which made it easier. There weren’t a bunch of dipshit drivers trying to run me over either, so that was a plus.

 

Zane and I ended up getting into a spat. I was over loaded when I got home. Bobby and his girl friend ended up coming over, which meant I really didn’t have a place to hide except the room. Zane followed me though, continuing to ask me questions and prod at me after I had already said I was overwhelmed, so I snapped at him. He got super pissed about that. I personally think it was disproportionate to what I said, which I can’t remember, but I remember the feeling of being trapped, of trying to get away by going to the room, and having the stressors follow me to what was supposed to be a safe space.

 

I remember him being angry. I remember feeling like a failure because I had communicated clearly. At least I thought I had. And I still ended up doing something wrong. Zane stayed in the living room doing his own thing, I think he might have played a few games with everyone who was over. I don’t know. I stayed in the room and slept until Zane woke me up by coming to bed. I got up since I was awake, had a snack of a handful of grapes, then ended up falling asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to go back to the room.

 

Wednesday. I cooked the rice and veggies that were going to be needed for dinner. I put the clothes away, and I forced myself to take time to cross-stitch. It was another windy day on the ride into work. If you ever want to know what 17mph wind feels like it’s sort of like this…

 

you_shall_not_pass1.jpg

 

I used a lower gear on the bike and didn’t give myself shit for it mentally. I kept my pace consistent and it was a good burn. I can feel my body getting back to where it was a few weeks ago, working out all of the kinks, sweating out all of the ickiness of being inside for so long. It felt good, yet annoying at the same time because I want to be a speed demon, even if the Universe has other plans about that.

 

David was sick so I had to handle lab alone. I didn’t mind. Honest. But it was the CRI1 lab. The good lab that asks lots of questions, and by the time the first four hours were up I wanted to crawl under a rock for the rest of forever. No more questions please. Silence. Blessed silence. I got 40 minutes of it where I shamelessly sat in an empty lab room eating my tuna and playing Dragonvale because it doesn’t take brain power to click on the little treasure icons that pop up on my phone.

 

The second lab wasn’t as rough as the first since there’s only six students in it. But it didn’t change the fact that I was completely exhausted by the time I was done biking home. I didn’t get a chance to work on my homework assignment like I had wanted, and by the time I got free time I didn’t have it in me to even cross-stitch much less anything else with higher brain power.

 

Zane had already cooked dinner when I got home. The kitchen was a mess, but I didn’t put energy into feeling anything about it. I showered, ate, and cleaned. I had more water, which I’ve been super good about. No dehydration headaches here.

 

Wednesday I stayed up later than Zane, but ended up going to the bedroom to sleep. We haven’t been able to spend much time together because I get home so late this month. I see him for a few hours and then he goes to sleep while I’m still amped up from the bike ride. Wednesday night wasn’t different. When I was tired instead of staying on the couch I went to the room.

 

That’s where I encountered Sleep Zane. I never know when I’ll run into him. Sometimes Zane is super sweet and cuddly, and other times he’s a complete dick when he’s asleep. Wednesday was Sleep Zane.

 

He was sort of diagonal on the bed when I came into the room, so I tried moving his feet out of the way so I could at least crawl into my little fetal position that I normally sleep in.

 

Zane: Jesus fucking Christ.

 

Sorry for coming to bed like you asked me too?

 

It wasn’t a warm fuzzy feeling. It made me want to leave. It made me hurt internally because I felt like I was doing something wrong, again. After all of the stress with work and the previous night and no real outlet for it because I haven’t been able to write, I haven’t done anything sexual since Friday, and I have no BDSM outlet, or art outlet aside from the hour of cross-stitch. Internally, spiritually, mentally I feel like I have all of this negativity building up inside me, and then I get cursed at.

 

Not cool, bro. Not cool.

 

So that sucked.

 

Around one in the morning I guess Zane was having a good dream because he started getting handsy with me. Woke me up actually and I thought things were going to go somewhere. But I guess he ended up waking up too because he said sorry, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

 

That’s when I got up and went to the couch. I slept like crap the rest of the night.

 

Zane doesn’t remember cursing at me. Not surprised. We both know Sleep Zane is an ass. He did remember touching me, though, and there was the promise of doing things later, but that didn’t happen. Later never happens in our dynamic, and right now that might be a bit of a bitter, jaded dig at him, but right now I also don’t care. I’m allowed to rant freely here and so I’m going to, that way when we have the conversation I know we’re going to have I can be rational about it rather than angry and hurt and rejected feeling.

 

So that leads into today. Originally I was going to get a ride to work from Zane. There was a 100% chance of rain that I didn’t want to deal with. After looking further into the weather forecast I noticed it wasn’t going to rain until later in the afternoon, so as long as I wasn’t a total slacker I could at least bike to work fine. After sleeping so poorly I opted not to do a 15 hour work day and to get more sleep instead once Zane left.

 

When I woke up I made breakfast and sat on the couch for a while, holding my coffee cup in my hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingertips. It was super windy outside again. Overcast and gloomy looking, like the inside of my head. I felt alone. On the outside it was in a good way. No one was in the apartment. I didn’t have to worry about pretending to be ok, or upsetting anyone.

 

Internally it was a bad alone. A disconnected alone. And there really wasn’t a way to fix that. Eventually I finished my coffee, showered, and biked against the wind all the way to work, once again staying on a lower gear and making it through the wall of Nope that kept pushing against me.

 

When I got to work I got caught up on all of my emails, both professional and personal. I took the time to reply to several people with mini-novels essentially. I completed all of the grading since Clavan wanted that done before tomorrow’s lab. That was a task, one that ate up most of my day, one that added to the never ending tunnel of “have to do”s and “must get done”s of what ended up being my day today.

 

I am glad that I added eat and drink to my to-do list otherwise it wouldn’t have happened.

 

The Shading and Lighting lab was intense. Mostly because it’s so many people in such a small room. When you’re already an overwhelmed introvert being in an environment like that is never going to go well. To top it off it was raining outside, so I was looking at that for the trip home.

 

Zane offered to pick me up, which I eventually accepted. I stitched an additional thread on my cross-stitch, but mostly I interacted with Frank who, of all days, wanted to be extroverted. We talked about bikes, and maybe doing another card night eventually, which thinking about more social obligations wasn’t helping me any.

 

I was so grateful when lab ended. As I was leaving Frank called out:

“Say bye to Jen. She’s off to run a Warrior Dash.”

 

Everyone in the lab wished me good luck, or said bye. One guy said, “I miss you already.”

 

Too cute.

 

It did make me smile and helped me hold it together as I walked back to the up stairs offices. I wanted to print out the event waiver that I have to sign along with directions for Saturday. Zane wasn’t at the school yet so I had a few minutes of silence in the down stairs break room. I saw Ari on the way out, though, so the small bubble of recovery I had been building was quickly burst, ripped to shreds, shattered. Whatever overly dramatic, mildly traumatic words you want to use to describe it.

 

I still had the post-work to-do list to work through. Dishes and cleaning and laundry before I could think about sleeping, much less relaxing.

 

Zane and I had another spat. At least I think it’s a spat. While we were in the room, before I went to do laundry, around 10ish, he mentioned that if I ever wanted to I could take advantage of him while he’s sleeping.

 

I was quiet for a long moment before I said that it was really hard to feel confident doing something like that. He asked why and I replied with because more often than not he pushes me away. When he asked how so I explained that it seems like every time I reach out he’s not interested or it’s a bad time. It’s like I’ve been conditioned for the answer to be no. I’ve learned not to be sexual towards him. That it hurts less to deal with the discomfort of being unfulfilled than to try to find satisfaction with him.

 

He didn’t like that. He said that I should go do laundry and that he was going to go to sleep. I felt like I was kicked out of the room. I took the dirty clothes basket and my backpack out of the room, set them by the kitchen table and curled up on the couch for a while.

 

I was tired of everything sucking. I was tired of being tired, of taking care of other people when it feels like they’re not returning the favor, and not just Zane. The kitchen was a disaster from Trevor and Danielle cooking their own food. John is in the middle of packing up his stuff to move out so a bunch of cups were shoved onto my shelf.

 

I didn’t want to go back out in the rain to do someone else’s clothes even though I needed to do my own so I have stuff to wear for my race. I wanted to stay home in the dark, alone. I wanted to be able to sleep well and uninterrupted. I wanted to not hurt.

 

At 12 I set my alarm for 3:30. I figured I would try to sleep for a bit, wake up early enough to get the laundry done before Zane went to work, then try to nap again at work, off the clock, since he has to drop me off early in the morning since I left the bike at school.

 

That didn’t work out, though. Zane got up around 1. I think he went to check the laundry card to see if we could do the wash at the apartment. I heard him leave. When he came back he slammed the door, literally stomped to the room, to another slammed door.

 

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I got up. Went to the room to get my towel which I had forgotten, packed everything that I needed up, and went to the car. I stopped by the bank to withdrawal a 20 since it’s my turn to add to the laundry fund. I went back to school because I had forgotten to bring my lunch containers home with me when Zane picked me up earlier. And here I am, waiting for the clothes to dry, hoping I can out write my dying laptop battery.

 

Zane sent me a messaging saying that he loves me and that I should return home safe to him. Right now I don’t want to go back. I don’t want the stress of trying to fix whatever is currently broken between us.

 

I want to sleep. I want things to be ok. I want to have alone time. But tomorrow he wants to go out for date night, so after my 12 hour day at work, we’re going to go out to I don’t know where. I wake up at 7am on Saturday for my race. Sunday John is having the Super Bowl party, so staying at the apartment will suck. Zane wants to go to Sea World, which would be great except the previous day I’m running a mud obstacle 5k. Sitting on my ass would be way cooler than walking around for an additional how ever many miles, outside, surrounded by tons of people. And then beings the week again. And that doesn’t include any sort of grocery planning, shopping, or food prep.

 

That doesn’t include any time to work on my homework, which I actually want to work on. And that’s part of my discord right now. I wanted to work on my stuff today, and I never got the chance to, so I feel cheated and like even though I got a fuck ton accomplished that it wasn’t the “right” stuff. It wasn’t the stuff that would have made me happy.

 

I’m going to be super tired tomorrow and it’s going to be an intense exhausting lab before a night out. I’m not going to get any me time in the next foreseeable ever and my introvert is not ok with that and she’s making sure everyone knows she’s not ok.

 

Reading the blogs of others, hearing of their struggles, their plans, their funny moments, it’s helped. It’s helped so incredibly much to have a genuine laugh or a moment of true connection.

 

I still feel overwhelmed. The thought of having to fold the laundry seems so heavy right now, too much. It seriously makes me want to cry because I know once I’m done there’s another task that will take its place. Another thing that apparently only I can do.

 

I don’t feel loved. And that sucks, and that’s why everything seems so much harder right now that I feel it should be. I know I’ll make it through this. I understand why I feel this way, and I understand that it is a moment in time, just like all of the other bad moments, or good moments. They’re simply moments that add together to make the picture of my life. But right now it would be really nice to feel like all of the things I do, all of the tasks I tackle and bend space and time to complete earned me something in return. And right now it doesn’t. Right now it feels pointless, and that saddens me.

 

Maybe I’ll be able to sleep when I get home. Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up.

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Musing Moment 0042: TWPS – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – A White Knight’s Epiphany

There’s not a whole lot in chapter one to be honest. It’s mostly the story about how the category “Warrior Princess Submissive” came about. It’s a good story, but not a lot in the terms of ‘how does this affect me?’

It’s more an insight into the author than anything, which is cool it its own right, just not something that I really want to write about.

Towards the end he begins listing a few characteristics about this particular type of submissive, which I do what to write about, but before I do I’m going to rant for a second… or several…

<rant>

I am NOT a princess. There’s a part of me who throws a fit every time I have to type that word out when writing the title of the book. Seriously. I’m not Princess Peach being carried away to another castle.

I understand that Warrior Princess is meant to invoke an image of Zena. But the word princess for me conjures up a delicate young girl, blossoming into womanhood, sheltered and tucked away, skin flawless and nails pristine from never having known hard labor.

I’m not that. I have never been that. Nor do I want to be that. Or associated with that.

The warrior in me shrugs it off, thinking of it as “Well that’s annoying, but eh, whatever.”

The dragon in me feels as if her mother has just been called a hamster and told that her father smelt of elder berries. This part of me, this raging dragon, feels as if she has been insulted on the most basic and primal of levels and that the only retribution is incinerating the offender to a crisp because RAWR SCREW YOU I’M NOT WEAK!

</rant>

It would be really nice to have a halfway point inside myself where my two halves could meet. Instead it’s complete apathy and blind irrational rage… All or nothing…

Moving forward, Michael Makai, the author, touches on some key attributes which sets the Warrior Submissive (I’m dropping the princess to avoid invoking the wrath of the dragon) apart from other submissive sub types.

Michael mentions how the Warrior Submissive is seeking an ally more than she is seeking a dominant figure in her life. He notes that she has already given herself tasks and goals. She has already chosen to fight for specific causes which matter deeply to her, and in most cases she is already actively fighting those fights. She can achieve her goals with or with out a dominants help. She doesn’t NEED him. She wants a worthy partner who will fight beside her, or stay out of her way so she can slay the dragon herself.

I empathized strongly with all of the initial points listed in this first chapter. It was an odd feeling to read those paragraphs and have someone list out pretty much everything I have wanted from a partner, everything I have never been able to communicate properly.

How was he able to list everything so clearly, so easily, while I stumble and trip through it and still somehow get it wrong?

Needless to say, I was intrigued. I felt like the more I read, the more I would feel like Michael was in my head, or following me around observing me in my natural habitat. I was curious, yet also hesitant.

I took a deep breath and clicked the arrow key to flip the page to the second chapter. I was committed to seeing where this rabbit hole would lead me.

Musing Moments 0041: TWPS – Intro

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So I’ve mentioned a few times that I recently read a book titled The Warrior Princess Submissive. This book was recommended to me by Zane’s love, Nic.

I know for most of society this may seem odd. A relationship ‘should’ be monogamous. A ‘typical’ relationship is between two people dedicating their lives to one another for the rest of eternity, til’ death do they part.

My current relationship is very much not the norm. Zane loves someone else. So… why is he with me? Because we both care for each other, too. Because all three of us, Zane, Nic, and myself believe you can love more than one person, and that there is nothing wrong with showing and expressing that love. We believe love can be non-sexual. We believe a lot of things. And really, what it ultimately comes down to, is that it works for us. End of story.

Our relationship doesn’t have to work or make sense to society. As long as we are safe, sane, and consenting adults, there’s nothing wrong.

The norms for relationships are being redefined even as I type this, what with gay marriage being approved and what not, which I think is totally awesome by the way.

LetsJustCallItMarriage

I’m glad that things seem to be moving forward and that most of society is becoming more open minded about things. Seriously, I saw more posts from my ‘straight’ friends about the marriage approval than from any of my LGBTQIA-can-we-please-save-letters-and-just-abbreviate-it-with-‘human’? friends. I really am ecstatic for this step forward, especially since it affects my family directly with my younger brother being all fabulous and everything.

That being said, I feel like we still have a very long way to go in the ‘acceptance’ department in general as a society as a whole. My relationship dynamic is just one example of that. But there are other areas where I feel we, as a whole, would benefit from being more open minded.

This next ‘series’, not that I really do series or anything, but the next handful of posts are going to be related… so by definition that make them a series… so I guess I do write series… I wonder how many more times I can write the word series… go go left brain logic, series…

Ok, I promise I’m done with that. Back on track… My next musings are going to be based on a topic that is widely misunderstood and more often than not looked down on.

BSDM.

Specifically I will be writing about how I identify myself within the culture.

I’m writing this intro as a fair warning for those who currently read my blog. None of my comments and inner musings are meant to offend anyone. These posts are simply going to be my own introspective conclusions on the different chapters of the Warrior Princess Submissive and how I feel they apply to myself.

During this introspective journey I most likely will be touching on subjects involving sexuality. While I do not mind sharing this information about myself (if I did I wouldn’t be posting to this blog) I understand for some people it might be TMI.

You’ve been warned. And I’ll leave it at that.

I’m not going to edit my thoughts for these posts. I’m going to write what I feel, I’m going to follow those tangents until I feel they have run their course, and I’ll see where I end up. If the content seems un-tasteful, please feel free to stop reading. There is no obligation, and I promise, no feelings will be hurt.

Because most of these topics are going to be personal I want to take another second to encourage comments, questions, and feedback. I do not mind answering questions, explaining my thoughts further, or in general participating in a discussion.

All I ask is that you are respectful in the way you broach a question.

onemorething

Last thing I promise.

I want to take one more second to thank everyone who has followed my blog, or shown support in some way, no matter how big or small. You are all amazing and I am exceedingly grateful for the time you take out of your days to share in this experience known as life.

Prompt Page 0049: All About Me

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Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

I’ve explained the tag and title of my blog before but after going back and reading it, I never really explained where ‘Warrior’ came from.

It’s complicated and yet simple at the same time. For me there’s a story, an evolution of how I came to think of myself as ‘Warrior Freya’, and that story is part of who I am.

I began exploring Odinism a few years ago, which is how I came to follow Freya; the Nordic goddess of sexuality, fertility, war, and death. Needless to say my choice in deities is a little uncommon, so when it comes up in conversation it tends to lead to a lot of questions.

People are curious. How did I become involved in Odinism, or better yet, what is it exactly? How do I worship? Do I dance naked around fires sacrificing chickens? Ok, maybe nothing that crass, but you get the idea.

I began seeing my most recent ex, RB, about a year ago actually. Around June or July. He, like everyone else, found my choice in faith fascinating and unique. My pet name ended up being ‘His Freya’, and for a while I used that as the title for a previous blog, and for several profile names.

When we broke up it felt wrong to use that phrase to identify myself. I deleted the blog because it felt wrong to continue using it. I deleted a handful of other profiles as well. The ones I didn’t want to delete I had to figure out a new name for.

I didn’t know what to use. I enjoyed being called Freya. It made me feel closer to my goddess. It felt right, and I didn’t feel that section of the title should have to change. I was connected to Freya before the relationship. I shouldn’t have to give up that aspect of myself because the relationship was over.

But I as no longer ‘his’. And really that was where the problem stemmed from.

Our relationship was a D/s dynamic. He was my Sir. And without getting into a 16 page explination of BDSM that dynamic would be a bit hard to explain.

What stuck with me, rung in my ears, since the break up was wondering if I really was a submissive at all. I felt I was, but as the relationship deteriorated I found myself less and less willing to take that role. I didn’t feel it was right. And as much as I hate to type this truth, I didn’t feel he deserved my submission, was worthy of it.

I explained in the beginning of the dynamic that I felt like a warrior more than a submissive. That I wanted choose to kneel before someone because I approved of their character, their choices. I find their character strong, stronger than my own. I wanted to feel as if they could help me grow, in a way be a mentor or a commander to me. I wanted to find them a worthy person to follow. I wanted to believe in the causes they choose to fight for. I wanted those causes to be just and righteous and moral, and because they were ‘good’ I would fight for them as well. I would support them and give them my sword in battle.

I would give them my self, my life, my loyalty.

I am NOT a submissive to everyone. In fact I am submissive to very, very few people. I can stand on my own. I can take care of myself and my responsibilities. In fact it’s harder for me to function around other people because more often than not I feel like they get in the way. I don’t want to be micro managed. If I am given a task I want to be left alone so I can do it. And normally that task will be completed faster than expected, better than expected, and other things will have gotten done along the way.

I’m not a weak-willed person. That isn’t what being submissive is about. I’m not broken, or in need of guidance.

I don’t NEED a dominant. And that is something that a lot of dominants do not understand. I am not a typical submissive. I myself did not understand it until a book I read recently, The Warrior Princess Submissive.

Aptly named…

Anyway, back to the story.

Because I didn’t understand my aversion to being submissive I began to question this aspect of my personality. Was I just trying to pretend or fake it? Was it something that I thought was ‘cool’ so I was trying to fit a mold that wasn’t me? I was accused of being willful, of not submitting, and that hurt for me. I wanted to submit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it when I felt like the choices being made were irresponsible and immature. I couldn’t stand behind that type of commander.

After soul searching I decided I would no longer identify as a submissive. I wasn’t submissive. I was a warrior. A warrior who at the moment was fighting for herself. I was fighting for my causes, my beliefs.

And so I became Warrior Freya.

There is more to the tale of my BDSM identity. How I learned I really am a submissive, and that there is nothing wrong with my mentality or the type of dynamic I am looking for. But that is a post for another day.