It might not have ben a good idea to tell Anyone about this 'anonymous' blog.
I feel this mainly because now I can't spill my guts without worrying about who will see. Not random people, I don't mind that. But I would enjoy splurging and feeling better IF I wasn't afraid of hurting anyones feelings. It might not make very intresting reading, but I need to let go sometimes.
Everything is in such a tangle.
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Friday, 18 January 2008
comfort reading
I'm still not feeling back to normal...I am still under attack from the infection,
trying to look after myself and hope it doesn't take hold...
Really hope I'm not kidding myself.
As distraction I've been flicking through my brain-files
reading old stories;
This was one of my favourites
when I was small enough to need someone to read it to me
my poor mum must've known it off by heart...
I think I probably did too...
I am a mouse
My name is Deedee
I live under the old oak tree
at the bottom of the meadow....
Monday, 7 January 2008
I miss...
soundtrack: Sunna, I miss.
I miss being told things I don't know.
I miss having things I don't understand explained by someone who does.
I miss big words.
I miss submitting to someone who makes me feel held.
I miss feeling accepted.
I miss not feeling guilty about wanting all these things.
I miss being told things I don't know.
I miss having things I don't understand explained by someone who does.
I miss big words.
I miss submitting to someone who makes me feel held.
I miss feeling accepted.
I miss not feeling guilty about wanting all these things.
Friday, 4 January 2008
New Year's Eve
After feeling a bit off for a few days I started peeing blood and fire. I spent three and a half hours trying to find a doctor, and eventually, fighting on the phone with the 'NHS Direct' nurse who told me that it would be better if I just gave up and went to the Walk In Centre where a nurse would prescribe a three day course of Trimethoprim for me. This wouldn't, I pointed out, actually help and would therefore be not better than but exactly the same as nothing.
'Well' she says and starts huffily telling me the same things all over again. I'm knackered and hot and sore and feel as though I've been kicked in the stomach. I burst into tears. Here is where my boyfriend gets his credit, he took the phone off me and let her ramble on at him, eventually she says she'll have the Emergency Medical Centre call me. We're supposed to give them a few hours to call back, and if they don't we're to call back the NHS Direct persons (gritted teeth) again. Fortunately they call within half an hour and I speak to a doctor who is sensible, matter-of-fact, and very importantly, gentle with me. He asks if I've had a UTI before? Yes, I sniffle. Does it feel like this is another? (Could this be a doctor acknowledging that I know something about my own body?) Yes, I whimper. Then he asks me to hand the phone to the driver and proceeds to give my boyfriend directions whilst I run off to pee fire some more.
I come back from the bathroom to be informed that I have an appointment booked in about and hour and half. This gives me time to have a wash and is fine with me. My bloke assures me that he knows where we're going and how long it will take to get there. We leave late and fairly promptly get lost ("I thought you said you knew the way?" "Well I kind of do...") At this point I have my legs crossed and am clutching my hot water bottle.
When we find the centre we are only two minutes late, and I only have to wait two minutes to see the doctor, who is lovely. He listens patiently and is kind to me. Does the relevant tests, is happy to discuss the results with me. He checks what I'm allergic to and goes through the list of things he could prescribe for me. When he mentions Trimethoprim I exclaim "Oh no, not that please, it never works!" he says "Well there is an awful lot of resistance to it- between 30% and 50% of infections wont respond." I'll bet- that makes a lot of sense.
After getting a prescription for an uber antibiotic, that my doctor assures me will wipe out the infection but not me, we proceed to get lost on the way to the late night chemist even though the doctor gave the boyfriend directions. Not a good night for navigation it seems.
At the pharmacy I get my pills and bottle of water, paying for them through a slot in the window I am warned by the pharmacist that I must not take ibruprofen whilst I'm on this medication, and must drink plenty of water. "It might make you feel a bit...dizzy..." she says and giving my bloke a steely look disappears back into the depths of the store.
He takes me home and finally I settle on the sofa, and sure enough the antibiotic makes me feel very weird. Dizzy, flimsy, odd.
We go halves on a take-away cause I can't imagine standing up, never mind cooking.
I'm very woozy, but that's ok because he doesn't want to talk anyway, he wants to play with his new PSP toy. "It's not as though we've got anything to say to each other." Is he kidding? I can't actually tell.
Eventually I pass out. Even when he wakes me I can't get up. I lift my head and drop it again. He says "Well if you don't want to come with me, you can come by yourself" and goes to bed. Twenty minutes later he comes down and finds me sitting on the floor, having tried to come up I hadn't got very far...
He retrieves me from the floor and steers me upstairs. I need help going to the bathroom. He doesn't want to warm up my heat pad, but agrees to bring me a hot water bottle.
This is what I get for submitting to him.
Happy New Year.
'Well' she says and starts huffily telling me the same things all over again. I'm knackered and hot and sore and feel as though I've been kicked in the stomach. I burst into tears. Here is where my boyfriend gets his credit, he took the phone off me and let her ramble on at him, eventually she says she'll have the Emergency Medical Centre call me. We're supposed to give them a few hours to call back, and if they don't we're to call back the NHS Direct persons (gritted teeth) again. Fortunately they call within half an hour and I speak to a doctor who is sensible, matter-of-fact, and very importantly, gentle with me. He asks if I've had a UTI before? Yes, I sniffle. Does it feel like this is another? (Could this be a doctor acknowledging that I know something about my own body?) Yes, I whimper. Then he asks me to hand the phone to the driver and proceeds to give my boyfriend directions whilst I run off to pee fire some more.
I come back from the bathroom to be informed that I have an appointment booked in about and hour and half. This gives me time to have a wash and is fine with me. My bloke assures me that he knows where we're going and how long it will take to get there. We leave late and fairly promptly get lost ("I thought you said you knew the way?" "Well I kind of do...") At this point I have my legs crossed and am clutching my hot water bottle.
When we find the centre we are only two minutes late, and I only have to wait two minutes to see the doctor, who is lovely. He listens patiently and is kind to me. Does the relevant tests, is happy to discuss the results with me. He checks what I'm allergic to and goes through the list of things he could prescribe for me. When he mentions Trimethoprim I exclaim "Oh no, not that please, it never works!" he says "Well there is an awful lot of resistance to it- between 30% and 50% of infections wont respond." I'll bet- that makes a lot of sense.
After getting a prescription for an uber antibiotic, that my doctor assures me will wipe out the infection but not me, we proceed to get lost on the way to the late night chemist even though the doctor gave the boyfriend directions. Not a good night for navigation it seems.
At the pharmacy I get my pills and bottle of water, paying for them through a slot in the window I am warned by the pharmacist that I must not take ibruprofen whilst I'm on this medication, and must drink plenty of water. "It might make you feel a bit...dizzy..." she says and giving my bloke a steely look disappears back into the depths of the store.
He takes me home and finally I settle on the sofa, and sure enough the antibiotic makes me feel very weird. Dizzy, flimsy, odd.
We go halves on a take-away cause I can't imagine standing up, never mind cooking.
I'm very woozy, but that's ok because he doesn't want to talk anyway, he wants to play with his new PSP toy. "It's not as though we've got anything to say to each other." Is he kidding? I can't actually tell.
Eventually I pass out. Even when he wakes me I can't get up. I lift my head and drop it again. He says "Well if you don't want to come with me, you can come by yourself" and goes to bed. Twenty minutes later he comes down and finds me sitting on the floor, having tried to come up I hadn't got very far...
He retrieves me from the floor and steers me upstairs. I need help going to the bathroom. He doesn't want to warm up my heat pad, but agrees to bring me a hot water bottle.
This is what I get for submitting to him.
Happy New Year.
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
Monday, 24 December 2007
I can't fake this
I snuggle up to you, purring like a cat, and ask you to hold tight to my hair.
you stroke your hand over my head ,over and over, stroking and smoothing.... wind your fingers into my tresses and pull tight.... You make me whimper and promise, I have to twist and turn and writhe to keep close to your hand- it's hurts- you lead me by my scalp...
Down on the floor on my hands and knees, you kneel beside me and press the flat of your hand into the small of my back, 'Arch your back', I do as you ask, lifting my ass up, opening myself and revealing her to you fully. At the beginning the force of the smack against my cheeks is a surprise. Again and again you bring your hand against me, hard, the sound reverberates through me before the pain registers. I can't ignore it, it hurts to much to get used to. Eventually the tears come but I don't ask you to stop. My glasses fill with salt water, I can hardly see out. When your fingers slap against her I begin to shake and cry.
Standing over me you feed your stiffening cock between my lips, over my tongue and force it down into my throat. You gaze down at my upturned face as I choke on you, thrusting into me, holding my head you smile down at me and force it further in.
Am I tear stained? mascara streaked? Does it turn you on to hurt me?
It should shame me to kneel like this. But it is pure joy to submit to you.
you stroke your hand over my head ,over and over, stroking and smoothing.... wind your fingers into my tresses and pull tight.... You make me whimper and promise, I have to twist and turn and writhe to keep close to your hand- it's hurts- you lead me by my scalp...
Down on the floor on my hands and knees, you kneel beside me and press the flat of your hand into the small of my back, 'Arch your back', I do as you ask, lifting my ass up, opening myself and revealing her to you fully. At the beginning the force of the smack against my cheeks is a surprise. Again and again you bring your hand against me, hard, the sound reverberates through me before the pain registers. I can't ignore it, it hurts to much to get used to. Eventually the tears come but I don't ask you to stop. My glasses fill with salt water, I can hardly see out. When your fingers slap against her I begin to shake and cry.
Standing over me you feed your stiffening cock between my lips, over my tongue and force it down into my throat. You gaze down at my upturned face as I choke on you, thrusting into me, holding my head you smile down at me and force it further in.
Am I tear stained? mascara streaked? Does it turn you on to hurt me?
It should shame me to kneel like this. But it is pure joy to submit to you.
reasons or excuses?
night one: too late, I'm already in bed 'sleeping'
night two: I'm drunk, and worn out from the big day
night three:It's late, the bed is really uncomfortable, I'm allergic to my room and keep coughing...
night four: The heating is broken, we're both wearing pajamas, sweaters, hats....
I'm thinking maybe
night five: my mother's sleeping right above us
night two: I'm drunk, and worn out from the big day
night three:It's late, the bed is really uncomfortable, I'm allergic to my room and keep coughing...
night four: The heating is broken, we're both wearing pajamas, sweaters, hats....
I'm thinking maybe
night five: my mother's sleeping right above us
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