So much pain, and none left to enjoy

So i am on day 7, (that's sev-ven,) of hysterecotmy recovery. This morning was a blessed event: struggling (as usual,) to get out of bed was met with discomfort, and tightness. None of the agonizing, constant pain i have had since the 22nd. However, there are always seems to be a catch, and now i have annoying lower back pain. i keep cursing myself, because i made the appointment for surgery in July. With the mindset, "oh happy day! now i can loose 30 or so pounds, i will be well on my way to lookin great, and the healing time will just be fantastic!" Well, even the best laid plans sometimes die, especially drowning in cookies, or Wendy's bacon cheeseburgers. So, i entered surgery at the same weight i was in July. Maybe i should just be freaking happy it wasn't 30 pounds heavier. How crap-tas-tic! 

But all grouchiness aside, i am pleased healing has been going along with the schedule. i am NOT however pleased with the communication system at the hospital. Since July, i must have been asked 60 million times, "What are you allergic to?" And all 60 million times i said "Latex." (i know, how sucky for me!) And then said nurses, techs, and Adorable Gynocologist all said the same thing: "Make sure you tell, blah, blah, or blah." The day of my surgery, i specifically asked my said Adorable GYN, "We're using non-Latex stuff, right?" To which said GYN repsonded, "Yup, it's all set." 

So i roll through surgery, comeout in recovery 100% positive i missed my surgery, and i ended up in the wrong one, an was sent home within 12 hours since i could do everything i was supposed to be able to do after surgery with flying colors. My mom was there, and she looked a bit alarmed, but i trust Adorable GYN with all that's in me, and that moment it was lots of awesome pan killers. Hell, i was Wonder Woman. Lemme fly home!

Fast forward two days later. The waterproof band-aids on my stomach have been giving me irritating itching spasms that i cannot do anything about because i refuse to look at my boo-boo's, and i don't want to squirm. Finally, there was nothing else i could do. i took the mothers off. And there, to my dee-light, (note, here is the heavy sarcasm!) were giant, bright red rectangles! In three spots, blazing as if they were under a neon lights causing them to shine even more. But this time, my Latex allergy, which they always eventually do, starts to step itself up a notch. This time, not only did they itch, but they burned. Not a "i'm on fire, Lord Jesus save me," kinda burn, but a very painful, stinging burn. Needless to say, being in pain, having not lost 30 pounds, already wearing humungous sweat pants that still were tight, plus the sweaty, stinging, burning welts, this little girl was not a happy camper. my Wifey, bless her heart, was sweet and upbeat, but quite honestly, it took everything in me not to start killing people, and burn cars. But i never would have gotten away with it; my gait was about my 83 year old grandfathers speed, which is no speed at all. 

Even though it was conveinent to have surgery during school brake, what was not convenient, was have a Wife struggling with breathing and conciousness due to Bronchitis. She is not an early riser anyway, so i would have to wait until 10:30 for any breakfast, a drink, or to talk. i was thinking if i have had surgery, shouldn't You be helping me-at my timetable? But i didn't say that, because i know Wifey was doing Her bestest. So i learned to do stuff for myself, in all it's annyoingly painful facets, and quite frankly, i don't feel the better girl for it, i want to be coddled, one good coddling for the road before this gig dies out.

The hardest part is we can't even cuddle. i can't snuggle up next to Wifey because any pressure hurts. And if Wifey leans up against me, i go insane- and not with excitement. So, we have been having the traditional "Ricky & Lucy" bedroom life. Gaaaaak.

i have been frustrated wishing i could be of more use to my Wife-taking care of Her, cleaning up the house (which by the way, is NOT looking good,) and just falling into the role i have been enjoying. At first, even with the amount of excruciating pain i was in, i still garnered some comfort, delight, and happiness from it. Mostly because i have needed this surgery for a very long time, and also, my Wife and i had been getting into play again, so this was a sweet replacement until She could touch me again. i don't know though, maybe there are stronger submissives and slaves than me, who can take agonizing pain for a week or more. i say to them, "Good Job!" and then i think, "Heeey, there's a swell goal for a nice girl like me to set her eyes on!" And i don't think Wifey would have a problem with that. At all.

And have you been a good little submissive this year?

Ha, ha, ha! Now THAT'S funny! How do you come up with funny questions?!? But all joking aside, not well, really. But i'm feeling much better, thank you! i mean i have come to many self discoveries, mainly that this innate feeling to serve and be submissive just won't die. And it's past feeling like i am just sad because i cannot please Rhonda. (the lovely Wifey's name, FYI.) It is now an urge like i know i need it as well. i just want to serve Her. the words hang in every thought, and hide behind everything i say to Her. At the same time, stupid feelings such as "Well, i don't want to put all this trouble, time and effort into it if i don't get something out of it," come oozing to the surface, and my Wife nips it in the bud by saying "That is NOT why you should want to serve. It'll never work. you say you have a desire to be submissive. But if you don't do it for the right reasons, to find inner peace, and to please me, I don't want you to do it at all."
THEN, of course, i feel devastated, like i broke another secret rule in the book on How to be a Super, Duper, Fantastic, Uber submissive. Like i am no farther ahead than i was five years ago. But that kinda thinking destroys any progress; stops it dead in it's tracks. The truth is, even with all the long term sexual problems we have been having, when i finally get rid of my snotty resentments, what i am left with is still wanting to serve my Wife, honor my Wife, make my Wife happy. i want my devotion to show every minute of the day besides in love emails, after sex, or if i happen to be in a good mood. And, as usual, the feelings are ever more prevalent, day after day. I have been trying to choke them, stifle them, smother them with a down pillow, even take 'em out back and shoot 'em in the head. But there they sit, patiently. Like, like a life changing stalker. (I'm trying to make it look scary. Is it working?) The persistence is getting louder and harder to ignore. i would like to add that affordable professional guidance from a therapist trained to deal with lifestyle relationships would be totally freaking awesome, but for now like with all else, i have to make due with what i have at hand. my voice, my writing, my honesty to my patient Wife and with myself. Especially the gentle, patient Wife part, who never tells what she may or may not desire, except for me to be "happy, find my true self and find some peace." i know. i ask myself too why i am such a hose beast to someone who has always has my best interests at heart.
Struggling submissive minds are like tricky, sneaky little ferrets. We always desire, our desire is obsessive, yet we never once get our desired reaction and feeling head on. We kinda go on an alternate, manic, ADHD, silly, stubborn resistant way. And like the ferret, i too hope i find where my secret stash of dream socks are, and revel in them.

So cute, but kinda stoopid.

Really? This is supposed to be in the plans? Good one.

So i'm a writer. And lately, instead of creative genius flying out of my big brain, i have instead been writing out what plays in my life. My life is crammed full of crap i never dreamed about when playing house as a kid. i think, that if i had, my parents would have sent me to Catholic school for real, and not just threatened it. A little about myself. i am in love. i am in love with a Woman who is my soul mate, and best friend. A Woman who has helped me change my life for the better, and grow and heal with Her love. A Woman who helped me first find the magic in BDSM. A woman for whom i felt my first feelings and desires ever for submission. A woman who started out-as my boyfriend.
So, in the course of five years, Wifey and i have been through, and are currently struggling with issues no one seems able to help us with. Our friends are genetically paired with another genetic person, so in turn everyone often shakes their head and says "Wow. that really sucks." i don't think it would be so bad for me if i could at least find another genetic wifey to bitch and complain with. Because truly, how do women heal? Bitching to friends, shopping, eating way too much chocolate. It is indeed our cycle of life. Yet all is not lost. Not by a long shot. Wifey and i have honed our communication skills to a point where even Oprah would be proud. And through that, i especially have been able to see lights at the end of the tunnel. It just gets frustrating, sometimes.
So even though our ratio of good to bad times is luckily about 10 to 3, life is still full of questions, exploring, and interesting conversation. Why just now i went on a 20-minute rampage about how i would make Wifey suffer in eternity of She ever contemplated suicide. (Let me tell you, being brought up Catholic, it gives you fodder!) Amused, She assured me it would never happen. With or without stressors in our life, i get nervous when my Girl even chats casually about it.
Turning to a different page, my five years with my Wife have been for me personally, a constant journey of self-discovery. i have always thought i was a lone wolf. i mean, i didn't even get married until i was 32. Marriage was the last thing i wanted, let alone beginning a journey where i was called to..servitude. This particular subject has been a personal point of contention, an obsession, and a longing in my soul i have not been able to ignore. In turn, i have often made my own personal life experiences much more difficult than they ever needed to be in the first place. Why only now, after 5 years, i am just beginning to realize i have been my own biggest enemy and road block. my Wife, has been my calm, my rationale, and my reasoning when often i couldn't see reality even if it beat me upside the head.
The thought of submission until recently, felt more like a desperate urge, rather than desire or need. i had grown up, and in turn dated people who did nothing but control me, use me, and threaten my security if i dare try to be myself. Then i met my Wife, who enraged all of them, because She was the first to help me find my voice. i thought, at the beginning of our relationship because of the freedom she was leading me too, that the innate urge to serve and be submissive were automatic responses of gratitude for her love and safety. Even though She repeatedly said otherwise, i endlessly thought it was owed to her. In turn, there was much passive aggressiveness, pouting, temper tantrums, and shut downs, little play, and lost moments of bonding. (Not listening = suck big time.)
In the last year, however, i have been doing a lot more inner spring cleaning. i have also began to find strength in God. Not the God i grew up forced to submit to and fear, but my version of God, loving and compassionate. And in turn, i have sloowly began to see what was before me all along. That the quiet urge, the silent need, the gentle pushing came from within. i had found someone who respected every fiber of my being, and walked with me on my path rather than ever leading. The first person i was ever able to express anger or displeasure in front of without fear of being abandoned. i was realizing the urge to submit was always there, but refused to emerge with angry, unsafe people. Yet when i found an Individual who loved me unconditionally, and believed in my potential, the urgings i thought i owed her were not out of necessity to pay her back, but desires to let my true self blossom-and love Her as i could best.
i guess the moral is actually stop and listen to others when they're trying to reach you. If we can find the tools to silence our troubled selves and hear the truth from others, then that's when we can take flight. Otherwise, you just stare down the same immense brick wall that's always been there and you scream. If you're not willing to see the rope dangling in front of you, then i hope you enjoy the view. Quite honestly, the view is crappy.