Fishbowl

It’s the 300th Sinful Sunday this week! Congrats to Molly 😀

Sinful Sunday #51

Sometimes, people with depression or other mental health issues, say they feel as if they are on the outside looking in.

I think that’s looking at the problem the wrong way around.

I’ve been thinking about this feeling of disconnect, separateness, and for me I actually feel as if I’m in a bubble, or a goldfish bowl. Life goes on around me, I can see it, but I’m not part of it. I can’t hear, feel or touch it, except through the glass. Nothing feels right, my world becomes smaller and smaller, my life shrinks and I curl in on myself until I feel like I’m going to disappear.

fishbowl-bw

More Sinful Sunday here.

Sinful Sunday

Staying Positive.

Wicked Wednesday #43

Start

It’s the end of the year… a new year lies before us. For some 2016 has been a terrible year, for others it’s been the best one ever. We can all make a fresh start in 2017… how are you going to do that?

I’m so happy to see the back of 2016, it was a pretty shitty one for the world and a very shitty one for me personally. Things did start to improve towards the end and I’m back to being able to see that my life can be better.

The main goal, at least for the start of the year is the same as it was for the last few weeks of 2016 – being kind to myself (trying), to not stress about things I should be doing. I’m trying to get rid of the should and have to. I’m taking each day as it comes and not doing very much at all. I’m not beating myself up about either. I feel much more relaxed and I’m sleeping better too. I’ve put on about a stone because I’m not worrying about what I eat, that’s going to change in the next couple of weeks though after the kids go back to school and I get back to a routine. I’ve come up with a few little ideas that I know I can manage and, again, I’m not going to stress about things (try).

Another thing I’ve done over the last few months is muted a lot of my Twitter feed, and I don’t visit blogs as much now either. It was far too painful but things are changing slowly and hopefully now I’ve started writing again I’ll be able to go back to reading blogs and Tweets at some point. I have to say I’d be so lost without Twitter which is why I couldn’t leave altogether. Having no kinky support in real life sucks.

I’m continuing with the meds and therapy, I decided I had to keep seeing the same therapist – can’t run away from everything. It’s going OK even if she is a bit patronising at times, and because they think CBT (the Cognitive one not the other one 😀 ) will be good for me she gives me homework – positive thinking stuff – like I haven’t already tried. Anyway, we’ll see how it goes. I have talked to her a bit about how the break-up has affected me, but not about the kink stuff, maybe I should. I don’t know how, how can I explain my needs? How much I miss having someone to submit to? How on some days I feel like I need someone to physically hurt me to drown out the emotional pain? How can therapy help if I can’t talk about the most important part of me?

One of the things I did know and has been proved is that I needed something, or more accurately, someone to stop me obsessing over the other one because I found myself a safe, real life crush! Once I had actually realised it, I felt free, that a weight had lifted. I think I still need someone to actually fuck me before I can really start moving on, but at least I know it’s possible. The initial good feeling lasted until I got the notebook the other day but now I’ve worked through how I feel about it, and him, the good feeling is back.

I’ve had mini Twitter crushes but as they are so far away I don’t get serious about it. I needed someone I could really see and talk to. And he’s safe because I know that there’s not going to be (or very unlikely to be) anything other than chatting and maybe a little bit of flirting. I know nothing’s going to happen because he’s the nurse with the psychiatric team – strictly off limits – but he’s funny and seems to genuinely care. The last appointment I had the psychiatrist barely even looked at me, but K was asking me things – how I was doing, did I need anything – made me feel better. It was only after I thought I should have said that he couldn’t give me what I really needed. I saw him in town a few days later and again he stopped and asked me how I was. He didn’t have to, but he did, and the way he looked at me, I was thinking, no, he couldn’t have, but he did. So let’s just say I have more to think about now.

I’m thinking at my next appointment about asking if they have cuddle therapy, or will I get a spanking if I don’t do my homework? Although it might be a bit difficult to look at him without blushing or grinning.

More Wicked Wednesday here.

WickedWednesday

Christmas Wishes

I know there’s still a week to go but if I think about writing too much I end up not writing anything. The words just don’t make sense any more.

You all know I don’t believe in dreams come true, romance or happy ever after, but if I could have one thing this year it would be someone to lean on, just now and again.

Hope you all have a good Christmas etc. I’m sure I’ll be back at some point (and I’m always on Twitter).

x

Chains

I am nothing,

nobody,

empty,

worthless piece of flesh,

discarded, I feel,

nothing,

numb,

dead,

no longer living,

existing, in nothingness,

held captive,

with chains of my own making.

Therapy?

Yeah, so, I had my first appointment this week with the psychotherapist.

She was nice, we got on OK, I’m supposed to see her again in two weeks but I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again. I don’t think I can.

I feel like shit. Have done since I saw her. All the progress I’ve made on how I feel about myself is gone. I now feel even worse than I did.

The voice in my head is back, worse than it was before. Now it’s on loop, constantly –

Stupid, ugly, fat, lump, blob, and on and on.

And I was feeling pretty good, I’d got my sister to cut my hair, she’d dyed it and I was starting to get back a bit of spark. All gone now because of how I feel about her and how she looks, which is ridiculous really. I’ve never felt this knocked back by how someone looks like this before. And I think it’s because, if I could choose how I looked, I’d look like her. I can’t talk to her about how much I don’t like myself, I can’t sit across from her and tell her I’ve never liked me.

The words that spring to mind are Amazonian, Valkyrie, a warrior princess, she reminds me of Lucy Lawless as Xena, (except she was dressed obviously). She totally fits the definition of statuesque – attractively tall, graceful, and dignified. She’s a couple of inches taller than me, (I’m too tall to be short and too short to be tall), long, caramel coloured hair, with blonde streaks, perfectly co-ordinated outfit, effortlessly stylish, not beautiful, but striking. And an accent, not sure what, but European, I’d need to talk to her more to be sure.

And now I’m left feeling like a ridiculous lump, trying to be something I’m not and I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to try anymore. I feel like I should hide away back in my corner and stop pretending I’ll ever be more than nothing.