Yes, It's back, and it's worse than it has been in years.

I actually sat and watched TV last night with sunglasses on, just to try and dull down the light. I sat like that until 5am. I took everything that I could legally take (explanation to follow) and nothing was even easing it. In fact, i took so much that I began to have an allergic reaction to it. I began itching uncontrollabley. Don't say it, I already KNOW... everything was in the danger zone. But that is nothing new lately.

I went through two weeks of withdrawal from the xanax. I tried to temper the worst of the effects with some "ancient valium". I looked xanax and valium and roughly calculated the equivilant dose, so that I could attempt to wean myself off, rather than doing this HIGHLY DANGEROUS cold turkey that my GP's office felt was perfectly fine.

In the last few months, they had been gradually bumping up the xanax doses, to control the anxiety and panic attacks. I know that Shelly was propably doing what she thought was best (pushing me into a 2mg XR tab) but that seems to be when all the problems started. Why? I don't know... I just know that when we went to XR I seemed to get less complete relief than on the PRN dose. I went back in and asked to go back to the 2mg PRN, and instead, she called in a 2mg ONE time per day. Well, that didn't cut it either. My body couldn't take the shock and went into withdrawal within two days. I put myself back on the 2mg 2x per day... and you know what that meant... I ran out of meds mid-month. When I called to try and talk to her about how I'd felt and how I corrected it (it was outside of office hours) she made a flip comment about "how if I couldn't take the meds as prescribed, then she felt she could no longer treat me for the anxiety issues (stemming from my Pheochromocytoma0.

The only comment I could get from her office, was that if I found myself out of control, or a danger to myself, to go to Wishard's Er or Wishard's Psyche unit. As sick and miserable as I was, I just couldn't do that. I knew from my previous stay several years ago, that xanax detox could take weeks/months. I just couldn't drop from sight for that long, no matter what the repercussions were... so I made do with the ancient valium and gradually came off the xanx.

I was able to get in to see their new Nurse Practioner ( I was dreading this, I don't have good luck when I have to change to new personel)... but surprisingly, she listened to me, and tried to follow my line of thinking in trying to attack this addiction. She was extremely uncomfortable writing scripts for this infamous "coctail" that I've had to live on for more years than I can count. But she did write them. I explained to her that i was scheduled to go to a neurologist in October for the migraines, and was gettting  referred to a shrink for the anxiety issues.

AND, shock of all shockers... i managed to wrangle my way back into my pain management's office, but not until the 6th.... so she wrote for ALL my meds, to get me through until my files were transferred over to the individual docs.

Oh, i failed to mention that my BP that day, was 220/168.... and they tried to send me by ambulance to the ER. I refused, YES, I know I can be the patient from Hell on a bad day. There was no sense running up an ER tab, when I could take the same meds at home. I have clonidine to take for those treasured moments when I exceed 200 BP. And I faithfully promised to take it ASAP and I did.

My only worry is that if they do another random urine test at the PMP's ofc, it may show I took the valium, which was dad's, not mine. Dad had a squirrled away quite a stash of stuff like that. There were plenty of other "pain" stuff I COULD have taken (patches and pills) but I knew for sure that I would pop for those if they tested... so that was why I was trying so badly to tough it out.

I remember sitting here, sick from detox... looking through the online PDR, trying to  find a combination of drugs that I could take, that would cause less problems... and being so outragiously angry about ME having to do THEIR work... I mean, I'm not a pharmacist, or physician... I'm just the poor patient on the bottom rung of the ladder. THEY are the ones bringing down the big bucks that should be taking care of ME.

Well, the next few weeks should be interesting, if I can just get the damned headache to loosen it's grip.

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On a lighter note:

I love Skecher shoes, this is no secret to anyone that knows me, Last year, I took a leap of faith and ordered my very first pair, I was in love. and I ordered another pair. I wore out the first pair, and have now broken in the 2nd pair.... but they are no longer carried in the catalog..... I was brokenhearted.... no, REALLY. Rarely do I find something that fits me so perfectly. Recently I had been looking for another style of sckechers, and had ventured out to other online sites. Lo and behold, I found my favorite pair, IN MY SIZE (major miricle) They were even 60% off. BUT, like a dumbass, I didn't buy them when I found them. But I was looking again tonight and they had them again... I didn't wait... bought THREE pair of them.... who knows if I'll ever find them again. I know it sounds crazy, but ......I WANT THOSE SHOES.

Also, there was a pair of "cold weather" boots that I'd also been trying to get my hands on.... they'd came in, I got the memo from skechers and before I could get there, they were gone again... size 11 must REALLY be popular.... but on a hunch, I checked tonight and they had a pair in 11... and THEY ARE MINE>>>> TO BE DELIVERED THIS WEEK *does happy dance.

>>Refer to comment about ordering 3prs of shoes and 1pr of boots.... high maintenance? Nah, not ME!". ROFLMAO

I never really thought of myself as a "High Maintenance" person.

I don't think I've ever been particularlly vain.

My favorite clothes are jeans, t-shirts and comfortable shoes

I've let my hair go until I looked like a witch.

I never had nails.

I wasn't over interested in makeup.

And now there is THIS "me".

THIS "me" makes an attempt at keeping her hair trimmed and since mine is too long to let grow out to it's current silver, I try to keep it at it's original red.

This "me" HAS nails. My own... not fake ones... and they are a pain in the........ but I try to keep them grown out and polished, the way HE likes them.

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Most guys are only worried about what clothes are coming OFF.

Not was worn to begin wth.

Over the last few years, I've found myself "shopping".  To the point of it almost being a sickness.

SALE!.... WHERE????

But I do it with thoughtful intentions.

That statement is not meant to excuse the excesses............

Now, when I shop, I think.... "Self? Would He like this on me?"

And yes, HE is somewhat at the root of the "problem", as He DOES care what I'm wearing.

And He does have specific reasons for wanting specific types of clothing.

Today was a case in point...... I have a dress. We refer to it as HIS dress... and if I'm honest, I did buy it ONLY because I thought he'd love it, and he does. (that sometimes is problematic)

Today He wanted me to wear HIS dress... and with all the uproar in the house, I'd lost track of it. I was panic stricken. His last words to me yesterday, were "FIND IT".

Well, I couldn't find it. And worse, I couldn't even figure out a substitute outfit.

I finally remembered another dress, one He'd never seen (although I've had it for a couple of years)

When I talked to Him this morning, I explained about the still AWOL dress, and would He permit me to make a substitution.  He agreed.

All that anxiety over a damned dress! (God help me if I ever truly loose it)

Anyway, all this got me to thinking.

I have more clothes now, than I've ever had at one time in my entire life.

That was proven to me during the search for the missing dress.

I found bags of clothes that till had tags on them.

Now, I guess you can look at that two ways... I've turned into a shop-aholic, or, I need to do the laundry from top to bottom and wear what I've found and be happy that I have so much to choose from.

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I was driving home today, and a song came on and it really hit  home hard.

WASTED ON THE WAY

Look around me,
I can see my life before me,
Running rings around the way it used to be.
I am older now,
I have more than what I wanted,
But I wished that I had started
Long before I did…

And there’s so much time to make up
Everywhere you turn,
Time we have wasted on the way.
So much water moving
Underneath the bridge,
Let the water come & carry us away

Oh, when you were young,
Did you question all the answers?
Did you envy all the dancers
who had all the nerve?
Look around you now,
You must go for what you wanted,
Look at all my friends
Who did & got what they deserved…

So much time to make up
Everywhere you turn,
Time we have wasted on the way.
So much water moving
Underneath the bridge,
Let the water come & carry us away

So much love to make up
Everywhere you turn,
Love we have wasted on the way.
So much water moving,
Underneath the bridge,
Let the water come & carry us away

Let the water come & carry us away…

~~Crosby, Stills & Nash

I had nerves today. Just like I do on most days like today.

It didn't go exactly as He'd wanted, but then ... when He want's the the entire D/s circus, it's hard for me to put it together and make it flow smoothly. I just don't have that expertise.

But in the long run, I'd say he was "ONE HAPPY CAMPER!".

I'd had a variety of options at hand, but my biggest problem is how to make them "flow". I finally put aside the stress and focused on what he'd mentioned most frequently, and something I can do fairly well. Just a massage.

I had to giggle a bit when all was said and done. It was the first time I'd ever seen him be "speechless". Now I know what I look like when he's sent me to that "space".

That, more than anything, made it worth it and made me want to seem him in that space again.

To, many more smiles!

Too many days apart make us both cranky and anxious.

Mostly it's been my health. Too many aches and pains to deal with. I know, an odd thing for a massochist to say... but there is difference in the types of pain. His pain, I love.

But today He put a smile on my face. I knew that He was aware of my blog, but I didn't think He paid much attention to it, let alone read it. I just thought it was one of the many things that I turned over to Him.

He surprised me today, telling me that He liked what I'd been writing. It took me a moment for it to register that He was referring to "this".

I can't remember today, how we ended up on the topic of "drinks". But I said something about the lemonade from Penn Station. THAT got his attention. Since I was meeting Him at lunch, I offered to bring him one for His afternoon. From there it went to a chicken salad sandwich.

Now it's complicated.

Drinks I could pick up HERE... Food I had to get THERE. I know I worked up there for years, and I kind of know my way around... but I'm easily lost. And today was no different. I was supposed to be there at NOON.... and I can't find the damn place. I'm late. LATE. Like this is a new thing... *sigh*... but He seems to be more forgiving when food, drink or smokes are included.... ROFLMAO.

He's mentioned doing something, or should I say... including a certain activity. Now, I know He can make anything happen that He chooses, but I did not expect it to be today. To say He caught me offguard would be an understatement.

Today was just a sample of what He's described, I can't even imagine the entire thing.

But it put a huge smile on my face.

I hope I can put one on His, tomorrow.

Again, I can't remember when I last had a day without some layer of migraine.

The only recent changed is that it's moving around and not just on the left side. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

This has been another bad week for us.

Monday was nice.

Tuesday... I can't remember Tuesday. That might have been the day that I started hurting so badly again.

But yesterday, He was sick. I was supposed to have met him, and was sleeping so hard that I didn't hear the phone.. or was that Tuesday?

But yesterday, for sure, He was starting to feel sick.. to the point of getting a Dr appt. I wouldn't be surprised to find that we are just passing this bug back and forth. Thursdays are not productive from now on... and He'll be in the doctor's tomorrow. I'm not sure what the rest of the day holds, I missed talking to him this afternoon.

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he scared me to death this morning with his getting ready for work. he'd knocked something over and the loud noise woke me up. I never did go back to sleep after that.

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The headache was still there today, mostly all day and tonight. I've had a ache in my left arm. It's a few inches below my shoulder joint. It "almost" feels like that vise-like feeling that is described with a heartattack. But that was disproved with last year's hosptital  stay.

So, I don't know if this is a deep bruise, or what. I can't remember any type of injury, although I due tend to "pinball" down the hallway at times, LOL. he wanted me to use that sample of medicine "Voltaren"... That ditzy nurse practitioner gave it to me. Reading the inclosed pamphlet just further proves that she's truely unprofessional and dangerous, which I will bring up to my doctor's attention.

Voltaren is contra-indicated  for hypertensives and athsmatics, D'UH! Your're not supposed to take it with diurtics and Ace inhibitors... double D'UH!

So, for lack of other options, I've slapped a lidaderm patch on it, assuming it's some sort of tendon/muscle injury.

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It was a good day spent with Him. Although He had me scared today. He told me to meet him at 11. That means "do NOT be late" (I'm so bad, lately, with being late, sigh!)

He told me that if I would bring him a pack of cigarettes, he would forgive my last tardiness. I agreed to it. I'm not xactly sure how it happened, but I ended up late again. I called Him at 10:59 and told Him, He laughed. I think He sensed my panic. But I DID have His cigarettes. In fact, I picked up TWO packs, one to be held as a spare in the event He tries to pull that on me at the last minute. LOL

We went to lunch, then went and spent some quiet time together, and we talked a bit.

I know He watches me. I know he sees and hears more than I say. He reads me very well. But I'm also learning. I'm beginning to catch Him at it.

He got me to laughing today. We were discussing my email, and paswords and such, and I mentioned that I had more than one password. The look on his face was priceless. He thought he knew them all. I laughed more, because it was a password that he had suggested... helping me to make one that was more "safe". At first I thought He was going to be angry, then when he realised that I'd actually taken his wisdom to heart, I think He was flattered. I'm surprised He had not figured it out already, since he frequently roams my systems and files.... but now He knows. And He's happy.

And when He's happy, I'm happy.

After all, isn't that what it's all about?

The last few days, I've felt like10lbs of pain, in a 5lb space.

It seems that there is no end to it. What makes so frustrating is that I will take medication for one thing, only to have another rise to the top.

Being August, my allergies are runnig amock. I can't breathe, I sneeze, my eyes cry, my ears are stopped up and hurt. I take the only allergy meds that seem to work on me, at the risk of driving my blood pressure up.

My periood has come, bringing with it the excruciating cramps. I'm eating 800mg of Ibuprofen and 2000mg of Norco... it makes it barely tolorable.

I don't think I've lost the headache in weeks. I seem to wake up with it every morning. Sometimes it's so bad that I can't stand to open my eyes. Esgic is my best friend. I have to be careful to balance it with the Norco... usually alternating doses, so that I don't end up with too much.

The xanax has been an interesting adventure. Somehow my last prescription dose was DOUBLED. I had tried to discuss some potentntial changes to the xanax on my last appointment, and it was overlooked. The office ended up just calling in the prescription to the pharmacy. I'm not sure where the mistake was made... but on paper, I've gone from 2mg XR once a day, to 2mg XR TWICE a day. That makes for a total of 4mg per say. I looked it up in the PDR, and that dose is within acceptable limits, but usually only for EXTREME anxiety. While I've had some of that lately, it's not constant. I've tried to keep to the old dose, but there have been a few days where I've taken advantage of the extra dose, just to keep from ripping a head off and ..... well, you know.

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Things have been stressfull here at home in the last week.

The first was an instance of him getting in my purse. his excuse was he needed money. he knows where I keep my money. For him to have found the questionable item means that he was going through my ENTIRE purse. I was not happy. It ended in a screaming match, mostly on my part, and I told him to stay the fuck out of my purse.

The second instance was him finding the mark on the back center of my neck. I guess my ponytail had slipped to the side and the area was exposed. I told him something must have bitten me. I didn't lie, LOL.

I hate lying.

It's the one most single reason that I "outed" myself to him 3yrs ago. he can't claim that he doesn't know what I want. What I need. What I have to have. he just doesn't understand that he CAN'T fill that need. he thinks of it as dressing up for Halloween. It's a costume. It's a part to play. he doesn't understand that it is the VERY fabric of me.

There are moments when I can barely stand to remain in the same room with him. Let alone have any sort of conversation or physical contact with him. This is when the panic sets in.

I know some of these emotions are aggrivated by illness. But some is just the frantic urge to be free of all of this, and to be what I feel in my heart. I would rather give up everything I own and live in a one room apartment, if it meant freedom.

Freedom.

That's  rather an odd choice of words.

Maybe ESCAPE is a better word.

Yet I do want to be "free" to live the life I know I was born to live.

It's ironic that it's taken 50yrs for my mind to open up to the point to truely understand my inner needs. But, better late than never, I guess. I envy those of us that have instinctively known all of their lives. And yet, maybe I've known and repressed it.

I can remember being  a young girl ... 14 maybe, and making an outline of my "ideal man". Again, ironically, what I was trying to put to paper all those years ago, I now realise was my desire to have a Dominant in my life.

I wanted a TALL man. I wanted to feel small, compared to Him. I have always prefered dark men. Dark hair, black beard... yet, not all of the men in my life have been such. I love hair. I'm tactile. I love the "feel" of a man. Rough hands. Capable hands. The beard, or the scruff of one growing in. Something that I can touch with tips of my fingers. Something that I can just barely get ahold of and pull on.

Ok, enough of this for now, I'm not currently doing myself any favors. I'm only making myself miss Mine.

Mine. He's mine, and I am His.

In all my years, I don't think I've ever felt like I belonged.. as much as I do now.

Blogging is still hard for me.

Sometimes, the things I want to write, are too emotional, too raw.

I'm not sure I want anyone else to see, yet I feel  like if I don't get them out, I'll scream.

I used to write EVERYTHING here.

 But, that was before I had so  much to think about. Sometimes now, the things that I want to write about are..... hurtful, socially unacceptable.

I wonder if my daughter will come and read them, or other family members, or friends. Will what I write upset them, or make them overly concerned for my path of thinking?

===============================================

Charlie's mom passed away about 6weeks ago. And some where I remember writing or telling someone that I feel/felt as if DEATH has camped at my home.

I'm depressed, I admit it.

I look at all that still needs to be done, and then count all the wasted days.

I find it hard to stay focused and get things completed. It's not that I forget things... ok, I forget things... but it's that I'm constantly shoving some task to the back burner and then nothing gets finished.

I thought getting the dry-mark board and mounting it right in my face (the hallway wall) would keep things more organized. That was a brief dream.

I was held accountable for finances today. He was not happy. He'd told me what to do, what he expected and I'd failed. I promised I'd fix it... eventually. I know, that he knows, what I'm going through... that doesn't mean that he'll let me slide forever.

Lately, I've felt "cut off" from the world a bit. And I haven't liked it much. But I also know it's a bit of a necessity. We talked about that today, actually.... not that I felt cut off... but why it was necessary.

I don't blame him for this, I know he's just trying to keep me safe in his own way. As I described it to him today, I stepped out of the house, and I wasn't in kansas anymore. I know bad things can happen. I know that sometimes I'm too trusting. I feel like I'm walking that fine line between "obedient and WHAT THE HELL?!"

There are days that I feel pushed and I want to shove back. Days that I want to just scream. Days that I feel I can't breath. Days when I want to tell the entire universe to Fuck OFF.

It's sad. She remembered our anniversary, but was afraid to send a card, not knowing if we still celebrated it or not. She was stressing over causing a bad thing to get worse. I laughed, I told her it was ok, I was torn. I was happy that she'd rememberd, yet so sad that things are the way they are. She's so grown up most of the time, yet I still see glimpses of my baby. I know she'd like for things to be good here at home, but she knows how things really are.

 I wish I could make her world, and her family perfect, but I can't, and I have to remind myself of it. I know that she's not been happy with me over my life choice. But I hope that the day will come, when she understands how much I sacrificed to give her a "normal" life. And that now, it's my turn to find my own way in life, and to find what makes ME happy.

Happiness comes with a price.

It's been a difficult week, a difficult year............

I've found it hard to write since my dad's passing.

Dad died on April 16. That was a Thursday. The previous Friday he had had an absolutely wonderful day. He'd been up, had tons of company... he'd even gone into the kitchen and made coffee for his visitors. I knew he'd been worn out, but he seemed so happy to see everyone. He fell asleep in his chair and seemed to be resting so peacefully that I hated to wake him. I let him sleep until we were ready to close the house for the night... unfortunately, when I woke him up, he could not walk. I had to get the wheelchair and take him through the house.

He didn't walk walk again after that.

The rest of the days, he was mainly comatose. I called my brother and we quickly got him a ticket for a 3rd trip. He got in late Wednesday night. Surprisingly, dad roused that evening and wanted water and something to eat (he'd not eaten food in a week)... I managed to get about 15cc of his drink into him, and he was awake long enough to know that my brother was here, and then he was out again.

Thursday morning, we checked in on him early 6am... and he sounded awful... he was panting for breath and was doing what hospice called "fish out of water" breathing. I called the duty nurse and she told me what drugs to give to ease his breathing.... No one left, no one went to work.. we just kept watch. He settled down and seemed mor comfortable. We left him to rest and checked back in about every 10 minutes.

My brother checked him at about 1pm and he came and told me that dad was not breathing. I went in and checked and although he was not breathing, he did still have a pulse and heartbeat. My brother wanted to call 911, but I said "no". Dad had already told me his wishes, and I had his living will and health surregacy. Besides, if I felt it would help, I could have done CPR myself.

I told my brother to just sit on the side of the bed and hold Dad's hand, so that he would know we were there. I cradled his head and kept my fingers on his neck until his pulse stopped. It was only a minute or so, and then........he was gone.

The house seems so strange, so empty. Which is odd, since Dad really had not been here much in the last 6mos (mostly he was in the rehabilitation home)... I guess it feels that way because I know he'll never be coming back.

Charlie didn't help in that empty feeling. Almost immediately he began moving things around. Exchanging our furniture for Dad's. I felt almost as if he were erasing dad.

Friends have said that it's Charlie's way of grieving. But it was driving me insane, and as much as it might have been helping him, it was making me worse.

The first month was a nightmare. Although I did all the normal things... called the Funeral Home, had Dad's body picked up... that's where everytihng came to a halt. Due to him having a surviving spouse, (in a Florida nursing home with dementia)... that made cremation difficult. I had to have paperwork from Florida, signed by a doctor, stating the dementia diagnosis. That took time for me to find, due to dad's office being such a mess.

Finally, after waiting a month, Dad was sent for cremation.

Then the depression set in. And the flu. I just stayed in bed for 2wks and puked or cocooned.

Finally, a foot was applied to my behind, and I was told to "get to it".

I've finally started to crawl out of the gloom. Trying to finally put the structure I've been given, to good use. Making it to bed early (can't count the weekend, LOL)

Yes, I'm eating... and trying to pay attention (for the most part) WHAT I'm eating.

It's hard trying to integrate all of this at the same time, and I often feel like I'm juggling.

I skipped breakfast (common)

I ate a ham sandwich with ricotta cheese and grilled tomato pesto, apple slices, grapes and some additional cheese cubes for lunch... and almost a whole quart of water.

For dinner I ate clam chowder, tilapia, corn and a few hash browns... I was watching the carbs.

SEE?   EATING!   FOOD!

I consider this week mostly a success, for me personally...

Sadly, it was a bad one over all. My husband's best friend from work, died on Monday. She'd been ill for a couple of years with stomach cancer and was sent home earlier this year after being told that there was nothing more that they could do for her. I admired her, she was often more mother to my husband than his own... and reminded me a lot of my own mom in her bravrey.

Shirley Harris, you were much loved and will be missed by everyonel that you touched.

Sometimes, there is no "why".

Sometimes, there is only what "is".

Sometimes you find wisdome in the oddest places, when you least expect it.

Who knew I'd hear that particular explanation in a movie about go-carts?

It explains so much... when there is no other explanation for things and how they are.

We just have to figure out how to accept what "is".

My father has asked me that question so many times in the last few years.

Why his life has turned out the way it has.. the loss of two wives to cancer. His current life might as well be lost, as she has no memory of any of us in her dementia. He felt he must have done something in this life, (or another life), that was so terrible that this would happen to him.

I've tried to tell him that he's actually been a lucky man... to have had 3 good women in his life, when many people never have even a single one.

I've asked the same question of my self. Why I would have to lose both parents to such a horrible disease? Why did they both have to suffer so badly with cancer? Why couldn't they both had just passed gently in their sleep.

Mom suffered from hers for 5yrs. But she made the most of the time she had left. Cody only lasted a year, but I attribute that to her avoidance any treatments. Dad has hung on for 9mos. Hospice told me in January that he had 3-4 weeks left... and he's outlasted the prediction. But I'm afraid he won't last much longer....

He's not able to walk for the last 4 days. He can barely stand long enough for me to move him around the bedroom. I'm not sure he's going to be able to get out of bed any longer. He has brief moments of clarity and can have a lucid conversation, then he lapses into incoherency. He's started doing things that I know are signs of the final days. "Plucking".. pulling at the bedding and in the air. Talking to people that aren't there. Those "eye's wide open" sleeping moments.

And just today, I asked myself  "why"?......................................