Like Waldo, I’m hiding in plain sight. “Hiding” being the operative word.
As I may have mentioned here before, I suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder.) The severity of it varies year-to-year, and I have not had a really bad bout of it in…oh, 3 or 4 years. My Happy Light is usually enough to help me through the worst of it (I SWEAR by that thing. And no, I don’t work for them. But using it was instrumental in getting me off anti-depressants for this illness four years ago.) Anyway. It appears that this year is not going to be one of those “easy” years.
So. I’ve been trying to muddle through the dark & lonely place that my head becomes when it gets bad. Ad’s been supportive – he’s been through the really bad time with me, before I realized what was going on and got on meds six years ago. And he’s been through me getting off those meds. I don’t put anyone down for staying on them—they literally gave me back my life–but for me, I was done with them. Unless, of course, I need them again. Because I have no qualms with getting back on them if I need to. I wouldn’t refuse to take antibiotics if I got an infection; I won’t refuse pharmaceutical help if I need it to get through this. But I know myself well enough to know that I will, again, wish to get off them, and they are hard to wean off. Frankly they are hard to get started on as well. I suffer for a couple weeks on both ends. So it is my preference to muddle through with the support of my guys and my Happy Light if I can. And I am trying…
This time has been exacerbated by W’s absence. And…poor man…he’s never been with me when it’s bad. The ups, the downs, the days when I can’t seem to muster the desire or energy to get out of bed. The absolute certainty that everything in my world is shit, that I am unloved and unlovable. The crying jags and…yes…the tendency to project all of my insecurity and hurt and sadness outward, and, sometimes…to be self-destructive. (In terms of relationship. Not physically, though I have been there, too.) The desire to simply hide away and sleep until winter is over.
One of the things that I keep forgetting though, every single time I go through this, is the directive Not To Make Important Decisions when in the midst of this. My brain, my decision-making capability, my ability to be objective and to think clearly is impaired. These are the kinds of things I have “decided” were good ideas in the past 48 hours, for instance (some of which I have acted on and some of which I have not):
- Decided to buy a puppy (did not)
- Decided to move into my own place (did not)
- Decided to tell W I didn’t want to go to Dark Odyssey Winterfire (did)
- Decided to turn off my OKCupid profile (did)
- Decided to delete my blog (obviously didn’t)
- Decided not to have any communications with W while he’s gone (did not)
- Decided to cancel a dinner date (did, then maybe/sorta undid)
- Decided to leave W’s, go home early and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend (did not)
- Decided to cancel the pre-Thanksgiving dinner with my family (did not)
- Decided to buy a plane ticket somewhere…anywhere…to be alone over my Christmas break (did not)
- Decided to delete my Jade Melisande Facebook, my @piecesofjade Twitter and my MaybeJade Fetlife profile (did not, although I have been conspicuously absent from all three sites)
- Decided to drop the college classes I am registered for (did not)
- Decided to straighten my hair (may still do – jury’s out on that one)
- Decided to remove my labia piercings (did not)
- Decided to rent 10 tearjerker movies for the Missy’s and my trip to MI (did, then promptly returned them and got comedies instead)
Sleeping would be nice.
So that’s where I’ve been. I’ll be back. Hopefully sooner rather than later. If I can find the energy, I’ll work on some sexy posts. Even if I’m not doing anything sexy at the moment, I’ve still got a backlog of kinky adventures to share with ya’ll.
Meanwhile, here’s some tidbits to keep you (mildly) entertained til I feel more my sexy, kinky, slutty self:
- I have three drawers of underwear. Three full drawers. Yep, I have that many pairs. It’s a sickness. They are separated out by:
I got to visit W at his house while his (80-something year old) mom has been here. She’s very sweet, and impressed with my high heel collection. I did put away several pair of my obviously-stripper heels, but she’s seen the bulk of them. And heard that W is building me shelves for them in the Sunset Room. And watched me serve after-dinner drinks and dessert in them because W wanted me to “model” them for her. She thinks they’re peachy, and much-admired my high-heel-walking abilities.
I discovered (accidentally) that I may have yet another obsession (besides panties and shoes): lipstick. I was cleaning out my purse and found twelve lipsticks in it, including three that I had just bought at the store. Further investigation uncovered another twenty-three in my make-up bag. Huh.
I have a Pink Box. For make-up. (Get your mind out of the gutter!) I’ve never had a box for makeup before. My son helped me pick this one out. (Him: “It’s small, it’s pink, it’s shiny – it’s so you!”) He may have been tired of watching me compare every single box on the shelf. Multiple times. (Another hazard of The Depression: an inability to make decisions. Except, apparently, bad, life-changing ones, like quitting my job. Oh yeah, did I forget to add that one to the list? That would be a “did not.”) I got to spend a delightful hour last night organizing my makeup. When I should have been packing, but whatever.
Speaking of packing, The Missy and I leave tomorrow afternoon for a week (ish) away, and I haven’t packed yet. AT ALL. I’m pulling a W and packing tomorrow, two hours before we leave. (This may be one of those Bad Decisions.)
I may be depressed, but I’m not dead (and I am apparently well-trained.) Getting dressed this morning I grabbed a sweater, tank top, jeans, and loafers. Realized I was seeing W tonight and promptly turned around and got my high-heeled boots. How’s that for a good little high-heel slut?
W has given me several low-key assignments to complete while I am in MI with my daughter, if I am able to. I don’t know if I will be able to accomplish several of them, but just the thought of doing so and the scheming to try to make them happen, has lifted my spirits (and given me the warm fuzzies.) I’m already plotting how I can get time alone to masturbate at least once (outside, in the hot tub? behind a sand dune during a walk on the (cold) beach? send her to the store?) and if there’s any way possible to explain taking a nap in high heels. Or even having high heels with me. LOL Oh…and must pack the chime balls.
My car is leaking again. I discovered this by getting into it this morning to go to work and promptly getting soaked as rainwater spilled in. This time it’s gonna cost $250 to fix. Sigh. At least I had already decided to rent a car for this trip.
I was looking at pictures that W took on another rainy day, and saw that he had tied me in bare feet. I have always thought the guys’ bare feet when they play with me his hella-sexy, but I am seldom that way myself. Because my feet are so seldom naked, the sight of them made me squirm a bit. It is oddly arousing to see them so, like a woman’s bare ankle must have been in Victorian times.
- Casual/colorful/cotton panties (otherwise known as “period underwear”)
- Black/sexy/thong panties (ya’ll know what those are for)
- White/running panties (yep, I actually have panties specifically for running in)
Wouldn’t you agree?