The house guest

I could see it coming. I've gotten very good at spotting it lurking around the edges of my brain. Oozing into the folds of thought. Depression has claimed me once again. The "house guest", as my household calls it, has moved back in. 

I white-knuckled my rational brain through Monkey's surgery knowing that he needed me to be present and able. Thankfully, his recovery has been so uneventful and rapid that I wasn't needed for very long. As soon as he didn't need me I crumbled. Monkey and Author could see it coming too so they were ready for it, though hoping for the best. 

I used to be almost paralyzed with fear when I saw the darkness coming to swallow me. Now I feel like a person preparing for a bad weather. Put up the storm windows and check the flashlights. I can't stop it once it has begun to build but at least now I'm able to lessen the impact while I weather the storm. 

I've started on yet another new medication. Will this one help? More importantly, will it keep working for more than a year or so? There is no way to know. Psychiatry is full of very educated guesses. No one knows exactly how or why these medications work or don't work for some people. It is like juggling when some balls are invisible and you don't know how many there are. But I have try because the other option is to live in this darkness and I just can't accept that. 

Post-Op Rundown

Well, let's start with the fact that Monkey is doing great. Everything on his end went perfectly. Our household ran like precision clockwork getting him prepped and deposited in the care of the pre-op team. We even managed to get them to let both Author and myself in the pre-op room. Monkey was dosed to high heaven on Versed (a sedative) to get him to relax a bit in prep. I've been on one dose before my polyp removal and I was quite relaxed. Monkey, who is much smaller than me, took three doses! He was rather tense. Then they wheeled him away to the OR and Author and I turned back to wait.

Not three steps past the waiting room door I burst into tears. I'm rather proud of myself for lasting that long. Author and I went to sit with family to wait the predicted two hours. And then it was two hours...no word. Two and a half hours...nothing. Three hours and Author and I are fidgeting and staring intently at the beeper the receptionist gave us. Him and I both are telling each other "it is just an estimated time" "he was a bit late getting out of pre-op anyway" and so on. We are watching minutes by now and at 3hrs and ten minutes our buzzer goes off and we dash to the desk. The receptionist tells us that they are closing Monkey up and ushers us into a "consult" room. 

If you've ever had bad news at a hospital you will know about the consult rooms. Bad news isn't the only reason for them. Patient privacy is the primary use for them but you can't help but panic a little when you don't expect to be sent to one. It is a closet-like room with a few chairs, a phone on an end-table and a door. Nothing else. Seriously, not even a coat hook. Author, sheet-white and stone-faced, and me, tears already streaming, shuffle into the tiny room clutching hands. Horrible complications are running through our heads but we don't talk about them. What a terrified pair we must have looked like. Dr. M pops in, takes one look at us while shutting the door, and quickly says "He is doing great." Turns out that Monkey also has some endometriosis messing about and Dr M decided to remove as much as he could find to prevent any future issues. That is what took a little longer. I thought Author was going to pass out from relief....or maybe that was me. That last hour of waiting and the 10 minutes waiting in the consult room was one of the worse experience in my life. I hope I won't be repeating it any time soon.

Wrapping up Monkey's surgery, there was one night spent at the hospital then the released him back home. It is now five days since the surgery and he is already decreasing pain medication and walking around often. Another couple days and he will be ready to go out for a cup of tea or something. The healing is going faster than any of us could have hoped for. 

I am so glad this is behind us!

An Obligatory Warning

I have had a few responses to my post about talking more about the more adult aspects in my life. All of them were positive which is wonderful (Thank you interwebs people!). I knew some would be fine with it, including one or two who are as kinky as I am. Yet, I still felt I need to do an obligatory warning before diving into a lot of poly, sex and D/s stuff. I can't figure out why that is. What am I afraid of? Hmmm. Perhaps, it is because I'm kind of edgy even in the kinky community. These things are a big part of my life but I haven't been putting them to the front of my mind. There is a backlog of things waiting to be dumped out of my head in a messy pile of sweat, lube and a few tears. 

Well, the obligatory warning is an easy thing to do and it will comfort me for some reason. I might as well do it and move past it. 

An obligatory warning: I am about to post more about some things about sex and kink.. This is to encompass more of what is important in my life. Just to give you a bit of an idea of what I will be talking about I figured I should describe a bit of my identity. I am submissive, a masochist, polyamorous, queer (in the broadest sense), and very sex-positive. I live in a D/s relationship with Monkey and Author. Monkey and I have had this kind of relationship for 12 of our nearly 13 years we've been together. Author and I have only ever had a  D/s relationship. I'm very service-oriented (when I'm healthy) but I am also into BDSM. I'm considered an edge player which means I do things that other kinky people might think are extreme. I am always surprised by this because Monkey, Author and I are very focused on being risk-aware about everything we do. It doesn't seem edgy when we have been so careful about possible harm. This is just a warning that some of my posts might include things that cause me to cry, be bruised, or bleed. This is just a reminder that all of this is completely consensual. 

So...that's it. The warning has been posted. I'll let this sit for a few days and then, hopefully, I'll have some time to talk about this other part of my life. 

The other things in my life.

I've been thinking....

This was never meant to be a ttc/infertility blog. I meant it to encompass all the different facets of my life. However, ttc/infertility hijacked my brain, hell, my life! I rarely blogged about anything else. Well, now that part of my life is coming to a close, most likely without me becoming a parent. I have been pondering what to do with this accidental ttc/infertility blog. 

To put it bluntly, I want to get back to writing about my commitment to living in a D/s relationship with Monkey and Author. (For those not in the know, an educational quickie! D/s is short for Dominate/submissive. This dynamic falls under the larger umbrella of BDSM practices. For a definition of that acronym, google it yourself as I haven't the time to do a Kink 101 class.) However, my blog is listed and pops up on searches for queer ttc. This means many people who may not be comfortable with overtly sexual and kinky subject matters, let alone a lifestyle 24/7 D/s relationship, may show up here. They may be surprised and disturbed by suddenly surfing to what they think is a ttc/if blog and finding themselves knee deep in the ramblings of a kinky submissive. 

On the other side of this, I am a kinky lifestyle submissive who was trying to get pregnant and deal with infertility. I don't like the idea of compartmentalizing my life into separate blogs. I've done it before and it felt very unnatural. It felt like I was hiding my submissive, kinky side. Like I should be secretive and ashamed of the way I am and the way I live. This, of course, is a load of bullshit. I am proud of who I am and the dedication I have to service. I'm not ashamed that I'm a masochistic either.

So here is my dilemma. Do I abandon this blog so that ttc/if followers and searchers don't get freaked out by the newer focus? Or do I continue my blog as it was first intended? A messy mash-up of my life as a kinky, submissive, poly, housemaker, hippyish, punkish, chronic pain suffering, infertile, depression-having, genderqueer. 

I put the question out to the interwebs. Dear readers (all 3 of you) and guests, what are your thoughts? 

Mark a Win

The last two years have been all about becoming more healthy. I started with properly treating my depression and anxiety (check!), moved on to addressing my eating disorder and obesity (check and ongoing check!) and lately it has been all about dealing with chronic pain.

Yes, I have chronic pain. I consistantly averaged a 6-7 on the pain scale daily. (Anything over a 4 on the pain scale will trigger most doctors to hand you prescription strength pain killers.) This started when I got a pretty severe repetitive stress injury in my back and right arm at 25 years old. It took six months to go back to regular full time work and a year to get to a stable point. Even then I was marked off as having permanently lost 8% of my physical ability forever. I was told that I would have flare ups of back pain for the rest of my life and a higher chance of tendon issues and arthritis. I assumed this meant I should just push through the pain because it would never really go away. I came from a family of addicts (various) so I wasn't about to pop narcotics on a regular basis and risk addiction. So I ignored it...for the last 11 years. And, surprise, the pain got worse. I injured myself repeatedly and had horrible flare ups that left me crying on the couch unable to move my arms. It made my depression and anxiety worse. It make me binge more for comfort. It made exercise 10x harder and so I continued to gain weight....which made my pain worse. You see how this feedback loop goes?

Well, silly me, I didn't realize the damage I was continually doing. Not just to my body but to my brain! I knew about neural pathways and how they become more likely to follow well used connections, like a rut in the road, but I never made the connection to pain messages. I have spent the last 11 years making deep ruts in my pain pathways. Now some of my pain has nothing to do with actual physical injury! The damn buggers are just zapping my brain with pain messages any old time they feel like it! (Side note: It is a theory that this is a possible cause of fibromyalgia. My primary NP suspects I would meet the diagnostic criteria for fibromyalgia but I don't think I'll bother with that.)

Two years ago this would have seemed like a situation impossible to change. I would feel helpless and hopeless. Thankfully, I'm new-found stability gave me the platform to address this. About 6 months into this new pain improvement project and I feel fantastic! I've tracked my pain, discovered what helps and what hurts. I've re-organized my chores, my kitchen set up and learned to ask for help from Monkey and Author when I have flare ups. As a result, I'm spending most of my time at a 1-2 on the pain scale and managing to get more done that I did before! I have accepted that careful use of some mild narcotic pain meds are a good thing and that, if I don't ignore my pain, I'm less likely to need them. I've added a regular, non-narcotic med that is managing my nerve-related pain amazingly.

So I'm marking another win in the "Bear 2.0" project!

Thinking off the shelf

Sometimes wandering the internet aimlessly pays off!I found a clever kitchen organization tip while wandering Pintrest.

We are a snacking household. We love to nibble. Being on WW while being a snacking household is a challenge but we have found a bunch of low "point" tasty noms. However, a bunch of little snacks make for a jumble of half filled boxes and random things lost in the back of the shelf. I've tried various ways to keep these snacks organized but nothing works for long. So when I found this clever little idea I rushed right out to get what I needed.

TADA!


This is a clear plastic, over the door, shoe organizer used to hold all our little nibbles along with our c-drink and ginger drink packets. We can now see and find everything. No more digging through piles for something and no more reaching for a box to find it is empty. Currently it is on our kitchen door out to the hall but I may move it to the back of the pantry door since I've already opened the door on Author while he was deciding on a snack. Whichever door it is on it has already make things much easier!

Too old for rail?

One of the things that really changed when I was able to manage my depression was my interest in going to concerts. Before the experience of being in a crowd was often too much for me. I would only push myself to attend if it was some one I really wanted to see. I've also expanded my musical tastes and, as a result, am going to shows where I'm unfamiliar with the crowd.

I went to a Deadmau5 show last week. My first real dance music show. Previously, my concert-going experience was at industrial, goth and a few punk shows. I figured there was no way a electronic dance music crowd could be as intense as, say, Nine Inch Nails. When I found myself front and center on rail* I didn't think I'd have much of a problem holding the position. I didn't for the 2 opening acts and I had a blast. Then, right before Deadmau5 started shit started really squished. Still, I wasn't concerned. I'm a heavy person with a very low center of gravity. I'm hard to move if I don't want to move. Deadmau5 started and suddenly I'm besieged by douche bags. There are rules that were followed at the concerts I had been at before. Certain things were not done and if you couldn't push your way to rail after three tries somewhere you moved on. You don't slap people, hit them repeatedly on the head with your camera, or shove them so hard that five people in a row are almost toppled over. Apparently this is pretty normal for the show I was at. Author and I gave up rail within the first ten minutes of the headlining show. I was too pumped full of adrenaline at the time to realize that the experience had resulted in a painful wrenching of my hip. I ended up limping out of the show at the end and ending up in an urgent chiropractic appointment two days later as the injury got worse.

I've never had that happen. I've never given up rail because I felt unsafe. The security at the show was good but they definitely had their hands full so I don't see this as a failure there. Both of the worse behaved were, one way or another, talked to by security. It was too late for me though. The push that sent Author and I stumbling and, I think, caused my injury, was what caused security to come over.

All in all, the show was fabulous. The openers, Zedd and Excision, were awesome. The Deadmau5 show had an amazing light show that made being in the back a lot of fun. It was worth the trip to Seattle. Rail however was not worth the injury and pain. I'll be thinking carefully about going for rail at other EDM shows from now on.

*"Rail" is the front barrier at a general audience, no seats, show. This usually gives about a 3 foot space in front of the stage for security, photographers and, sometimes, replacement gear. This also allows for space to pull out crowd-surfers.

The best laid plans

This past weekend was suppose to be our first grand outing since all the crap with Monkey's old work went to hell, his certification studying, him working 50hr weeks and then getting really sick from being overworked. It should have been a short but carefree trip up to Seattle for a dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant and the Daft Punk laser show at the Pacific Science Center. There should have also been plenty of time for "adult activities" and maybe even a little boozing (since I'm not ttc-ing right now.)

Our trip did happen however it involved dragging my sick ass around behind Monkey and Author. I caught Monkey's cold. A sick Bear is often grumpy. I'm afraid wasn't the best company. I also couldn't taste a bit of the wonderful lamb curry and mango lassi I always have. Nor could I focus much on the laser show since I felt like utter crap. There were good moments of the show where I was able to lose myself in the music and the visuals but not many. Even sick it was an awesome show, I just wasn't able to enjoy it. I couldn't taste any of the treats we had ready at the hotel for late night noshing and picking apart the show. I couldn't have any of the wine. Breakfast out, a rare event for us, was no better. By the time we were on the road home I was even sicker than I was when we left.

Today I haven't been up. I moved from bed to the futon downstairs and slept all morning. I think going on the trip might have been the wrong call considering how sick I am now. But we all so needed the outing. If I had stayed home then Monkey and Author would have refused to go so they could take care of me. Even today Author stayed home from work to keep and eye on me.

I know I'll get better soon. Chances are next weekend I'll be fine. I just wish the first trip of our travel season hadn't been marred by my being sick.

And to top it all off...I gained 3lb this week. I didn't exercise much because I was trying to fight off the beginnings of this cold. I didn't realize how important my exercise routines had become in my weight loss. I'm guessing I wouldn't have better results this week since I won't be working out any time soon. ::sigh::whine::grumble::

New Possibilities

Monkey and Author met with a potential donor last night. I will call him "Fixer," not only because he is an engineer, but because fixing problems seems to be a core of his identity. Fixer's wife was a surrogate for a couple they are friends with. He was very inspired by her gift to them and decided he should become a sperm donor. He also recently took a class on gender and sexuality that opened his mind to all that queer people have to deal with in a straight-based society so he decided that helping a queer family would be where his help was most needed. This is a problem he could help "fix."

It is actually kind of a sweet motivation and one that makes sense to me. The fact that he participated in helping his wife go through the surrogacy means he has seen the kind of legal hoops that are not nearly as involved as ours would be. Our sex and std rules all make perfect sense to him, as does our contract and our legal needs. (He loves our contract. Everything is spelled out. It is pretty detailed.) He is older than our past donors, early 40's, but in good health. I think this is why he isn't just donating to a sperm bank. They can pretty narrow on the age thing. For me age matters less. I always put the line at 50 because that is pretty standard. After that you really see a statistical spike in issues. He has kids, his youngest is about 6, so it hasn't been that long since he produced a kid.

Monkey and Author think this has an 80%-85% chance of working out. He doesn't live locally but is in our city every weekday and will happily commit to a schedule. He is very enthusiastic about this and very positive that this will work for us. I've decided to be hopeful.

So here is to hoping that next cycle I'll have a new donor and, hopefully, a positive pregnancy test not long after.

The real poly experience.

The other day, while driving my family to their respective work places, we experienced a communication cluster fuck. It happens in every relationship but in a poly household they can get even more tangled than in a two person relationship. Thankfully, it was a scheduling confusion rather than anything with much emotional investment but it was a perfect example of real poly household life, made a tad more complex by sharing one car for three adults. It was a very "who is on first" kind of moment. Some of it was from me forgetting to talk about car arrangements then more confusion as the "reply all" button was not hit on an email thread about Monkey's schedule.

Actually, now that I think about it, I was the weak link in this particular cluster fuck. Oops. To redeem myself I did completely change my plans to accommodate my screw up. In the end it worked out better for everyone! I love it when that happens. :)

After it was all worked out Author said, laughing, "This is what people should think about when they think of poly!" We all cracked up. As long time poly people, we had all dealt with the misconception that poly is all about sex, often, with everyone. This little tangled knot of car use, work schedules, grocery shopping and the "reply all" email function is the real daily poly life.

It isn't all about communication issues and scheduling though. It is also about having diverse ways to deal with each other. Like the fact that Author catches me when I slack off from my meditation practice, even when I'm rationalizing it like a pro. Also, he found the perfect motivation to get Monkey back into his workout routine. Monkey has a great eye for world-building inconsistencies and grammar and typos in Author's rough drafts where I am more in tuned with possible character issues. Monkey knows me well enough to step in when I need to readdress my mental health issues and he knows Author well enough to be just the right combo of sympathetic and encouraging when he is freaking out about is writing career. Author and I like to shop for household things and talk about organizational supplies. Monkey and Author like to go to arcades and deconstruct movies. Monkey and I will go to truly crappy movies together and laugh the entire time. We each are something more for each other than any combo of two could ever be. That is the real poly experience.

And the sex is fucking awesome. :)