Been through about a week of being utterly down. It’s nothing to do with anything in my life, just a chemical imbalance of mine. Starting to perk up again now, I feel like I’m on the up, which is good.
Describing the feeling would be something like – have you ever been so utterly worried or terrified of a mistake you made and you’re wrecking your brain trying to think of a way to fix it? That constant worry and fear, stomach in knots, mind racing… Well it kinda feels like that all the time. I can take meds for it but I’d rather work through it myself than feel like a vegetable. It kinda feels like you’re being sucked into a black hole and you have to hold on tight to sanity and reality.
I’ve spent the past week vegging out, playing dwarf fortress, being anti-social and getting as fucked as possible, because, it’s just a matter of time. I know it will pass and I have the best support network available: my awesome partner and a few good work colleagues and online friends, if I ever need to chat or vent. I try not to make a huge deal of it, just keep myself to myself, I’m a lot quieter than normal. I think the more you observe yourself and your reactions to it on the outside, the easier it becomes to control, to the point where, I know I don’t have to worry about it until it happens again.
My pet’s been keeping me entertained with stories and cuddles and attention and conversation. Honestly, I suffered through so many years of being alone, even when I was in a relationship, feeling like the people around me didn’t give a fuck what was happening to me or why it was happening. Now I know I don’t have to worry about that any more.
I wish people would acknowledge that Britain doesn’t just mean England, it means Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland too. Britain is the name for all the countries, not just one.
I’m sorry but I’m just a little sick of folk getting it wrong.
Great Britain refers geographically to the island of Great Britain, politically to England, Scotland and Wales in combination. The United Kingdom is the name for England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. See:
Confused? Me too.
Hating on summer for reasons.
1. The Sun
It cooks my skin. It involves me having to pay money for an array of horribly sticky creams to stop me from being cooked alive. I like being pale.
My eyes become sore and dry and itchy. My nose doesn’t stop running. I have to take antihistamines that make me drowsy.
3. Increased number of insects.
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Including insects that want to sting or bite me – wasps, hornets, bees, …. and those that just want to feast on my blood.
4. The heat
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In winter, if I’m cold outside, I can put clothes on to warm up. Inside, I can light the fire or turn the heating on. In the summer, there is nothing you can do but feel repressed and suffocated by the constant heat. Fans are too noisy. Air conditioning seemingly hasn’t been invented in Ireland yet.
If you hate feet as much as me, then you’ll hate summer too because it involves people showing off their creepy, ugly feet by wearing horrific looking “footwear”. Fuck sandals.
6. Noisy neighbour’s barbeques swearing at their thousands of screaming kids and terrible taste in music.
Might just be my neighbourhood. But man, my neighbours swear blind at their kids 24/7, not just in summer. As a result, their children are these nasty little noise machines that can’t talk to each other at a normal volume. Their only volume is scream or yell. They usually have a few BBQs in summer, play terrible pop music from like, a decade ago (not that the newer shit is any better) and completely ignore the fact that their children are producing the most ghastly noises. They stay up drinking til late in the morning, which is fair enough – I don’t mind a party, but man, these people can’t talk to each other at a normal volume either. They feel the need to screech.
7. The Parades
You know what? This is quite specific to Northern Ireland. I’d consider myself to be a unionist (that doesn’t vote for the “unionist” parties – or the nationalist ones for that matter). I quite like having a union with Britain. I think the idea of 4 countries that live as individuals and independent who all rely on each other, share ideas and share resources is a good thing. I think that Britain (well, not britain, “the tories”) went about it all wrong. Invasion and repression isn’t really a good way to get people on your side. But that’s all in the past, and it doesn’t make a shit of a difference anymore.
But still, every year, these misogynistic dregs march up and down the streets to celebrate some event that literally no one gives a fuck about anymore. Why? TRADITION! What? Really? It does nothing but cause tension and stress and costs taxpayers money. Sure it’s great having an extra day off, but to get woken up EVERY FUCKING SATURDAY MORNING IN SUMMER AT 8AM BY PEOPLE FUCKING BANGING DRUMS OUTSIDE MY WINDOW IS NOT FUCKING AWESOME. You can read more on this fucked up “tradition” here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twelfth
While you might think “who the fuck are you to shit on people’s traditions”. I say, hey, if I show up outside your bedroom window banging a drum at fucking 8am on a Saturday morning, you would probably feel the same. As well as that, traditions that piss 50% of the country off and raise tensions, aren’t really all that fair.
So yeah, summer sucks.
I used to hate Easter. My mum would have dragged me to church for 2-3 hours when I was a kid. After that, whatever ex I was going out with at the time wanted to plan something because it was a long weekend. We actually got invited to a christening (and party) on the Sunday, but I made my execuses. I hate church, and I’m not really into kids.
No church, no family, no screaming babies or kids, (almost) no people. This time, I got to have the best and most perfect Easter ever.
We hibernated for four days in the Castle (that’s what we call our home) and it was glorious. Just to lie around in your nightwear and comfortable clothes and not have anyone expect you to do anything is awesome. We played games, we watched some films, some series, ate tasty food, smoked, cuddled, fucked…. like, I know it might not be everyone’s idea of a perfect long weekend. But it sure as hell, is mine.
I’ve been feeling a bit emotionally fragile the past few days. I’m not really sure why. I’ve been getting enough early nights, having enough rest and chill time and eating ok. Work has been good. I’ve been having nice evenings of games, tv and cuddles.
We went to see DevilDriver on Monday night. I actually preferred their support band – Sylosis, who were fucking awesome. It was an ok gig, we didn’t get to stand as close as I’d have liked but there were too many crazies to stand any closer. After that we went back to the hotel and passed out almost immediately. Hangover came swiftly the next day and we spent most of the day zombified.
We made love on Tuesday evening. At that stage, it had been almost 4 days since my last orgasm. I was pretty tense, pent up and almost an emotional wreck. We hadn’t purposley planned on not playing for that long – I think he just had a few days where he was more tired than normal. We had lots of slow, touching, kissing, licking, nibbling, cuddling foreplay, followed by me climbing on top of him and fucking him very slowly until we both came. It was deeply satisfying. We cuddled afterwards, our naked bodies pressed close for warmth.
We had another play session on Wednesday evening, an intensely passionate affair of rubbing and touching. I used a tenga egg on him, he seemed to enjoy it, even though it popped off during the end when he was orgasm, I tried my best to compensate with my hand. I think I succeeded for the most part.
Last night, we played games and watched some tv. I don’t mind the days where we don’t have sex. But sometimes it’s hard for me not to touch him, or strip him or pin him down and use him. I feel like those things would be a breach of what we have – which is trust and respect. I try my best to behave, but sometimes when he’s sitting there, lost in his own little world of spreadsheets and tea, I want to grab him and make him mine again.
I feel like we haven’t done anything terribly kinky in a while. That’s partly due to it being winter and I don’t enjoy putting him in discomfort by making him stark naked on a freezing cold night and partly because it seems like he hasn’t really been all that interested lately in being tied up or pegged (i fucking hate that word) or dressed up, etc. It might be lack of energy, but either way, I don’t like to push when it feels like I’m being unfair. I understand that people aren’t always in the mood or don’t have the energy„ etc. At the same time, I feel like I don’t want to get into a routine of sex where we’re always doing the same thing or using the quickest method to “get off”. Sex and exploring sex is something that I am really passionately enjoy and I’ve just felt like we’ve been a bit lazy recently. When we planned on doing something like, having a dress up day or a green day, etc, it’s not happened. We’ve just lazied around and not done it.
I hate summer, but perhaps sunshine and warmth will give us a bit more energy.
Don’t get me wrong, I like getting my period. It’s confirmation that I’m not pregnant, which is awesome news every month. But hell, this one has dragged itself out a little bit too long now and I’d like it just to leave so that I can have sex again.
It’s been 6 days since my last orgasm. I feel like I’m about to self implode. This weekend was particularly difficult because I had to spend it with the sexiest little creature on earth. He’s so intoxicating. The way he looks, the way he sounds, the way he smells, how he touches me so gently…..
I did of course give him lots of play-time. It helps me a lot actually, being able to still engage in sexual activity with him, even if I don’t get off myself. I had a pretty good wet dream as well which helped and I think he got some pretty good orgasms too.His parents are over this weekend which means we probably won’t get much play-time…. feeling frustrated but also happy. How does that make sense?