We’re at Xaara in the picture above for Mermaid day.
I’m not sure when it was that Spitfire told me about how long it would be before she had her computer back, but I was doing the math within seconds. I think I came up with 28 hours of DJ I would have to do in order to cover her shifts, and mine, over the next 10 days.
Queue massive panic and anxiety attack.
“What do you need, mine? What supports do you need?”
I had withdrawn into myself at that point, and once again, she coaxed me out from my shell. “Mindquiet. I’ll need mindquiet.”
“Ask the family for support if I can’t give it to you, mine.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t their problem.”
“If you are suffering, it is their problem. The family is there to support one another. They lifted me up when I was at my lowest.”
She coaxed me out more, offering to cancel her sets, but I told her that she couldn’t do that to me, because it meant that she had no faith in me. She negotiated with me, down to doing no extra sets. I can’t cover for anyone else, and if I can, I am to find cover for some of our non-Whip sets.
“If you do cover for anyone else, I will cancel all of my sets,” she warned me. “Tell me I’m a #meandom.”
I gave in, and warned those who have a tendency to ask me to do extra DJing that, until Spitfire is back online, I can’t cover or do anything extra.
Two shifts down – my Xaara and her first Whip shift of the week, and I’m feeling more confident. I can handle this.
If I can handle this, why can’t I handle a “real job?”
I am not allowed to overexert myself. I must take downtime. I must obey my dominant, or when she’s back online, there will be a price to pay.
Here I am, at the Galleria on a Whip night. I’m in Rosal’s corset set. I have a hard time wearing the neck corset, but the rest I can wear.
Spitfire doesn’t know this. She’ll learn it when she reads my blog post, and it’s not even this part that I don’t think she knows about.
Over twenty years ago, I was diagnosed with “irritable bowel syndrome.” Yes, I’ve tried the pills, the peppermint, diet change, and everything you can think of to try to control it. I’ve had colonoscopies and more to try and figure out what was causing it. There are theories abound as to what causes IBS.
It is a bane in my life, but it is generally more an irritation than something that debilitates me. During flare ups, yes, I can’t sleep, can’t breathe, can barely sit up, and I want nothing to touch my belly.
Flare ups have been few and far between for the last few years. I was hoping I’d grown out of them, but WHAM, flare up. 3 am, and I am up, unable to sleep, and trying to keep what food I was finally able to eat down, and wondering if I should go to the hospital, but I don’t want to be considered “drug seeking.” I want pain relief, not drugs, and the two are not mutually exclusive. You can get pain relief without drugs.
Another Whip set. The place may be empty, but that’s fine. I’m broadcasting to the world, and she’s here, supporting me, even though Lumiya sucks. It works great for an app, but the interactions in SL are extremely limited.
Lumiya is far better than anything in the Apple Store.
Autumn asked me if I had any upcoming sets that needed a location. Guess what? I did. So she and I quickly arranged to do the Whip set for Spitfire at her new club. We’re working on getting that club to join the list of “loyal listeners” so more Whip broadcasters can do broadcasters from there.
This is the part that Spitfire is going to flip about.
My doctor has told me not to worry about it. But I do. My family has a history of kidney problems. My mother was blessed without them, but her father, had them the entire 18 years he was my grandfather, before he died. He had bladder infections, kidney infections, and kidney stones. I remember the one time I was allowed to see him while he was in the hospital, and he was suffering.
Three and a half years ago, a year before I met Spitfire, I was diagnosed with a massive kidney infection, to the point of near kidney failure. I couldn’t attend my eldest’s graduation from elementary school, and even sitting at my computer was almost too much for me.
I was sick. So very very sick. I was down to 65% functionality and declining and was looking at having to go on dialysis if it dropped further. Cranberry juice, already my friend, became a staple in my life for months. It still is.
During the investigation by a doctor at the local ER, they found a cyst on one of my kidneys. Further investigation turned it into a 2E cyst, but was small enough, that it wasn’t a “concern.” At the same time, my kidneys started to work “properly” again.
It was December, about 6 months before I met Spitfire online, when I got given the “don’t worry, we’ll watch it” by my doctor. It wasn’t cleared, but it hadn’t grown, and my kidneys were working properly again.
This is the same doctor who has told my kid to “suck it up” while being sick. The same doctor who just last month has told me that my brain is re-writing itself to cope with constant crossed signals and vertigo, so that I no longer feel constantly dizzy. It is working.
Yes, I need a scan to find out if the cyst is still there. I’ve had constant small utis since the diagnosis, and even before. I had my first bad uti at 11, and have gotten anywhere from one to four a year since then. I had a mild one two weeks ago, but went crazy with liquids and cranberry juice and I think I bounced it.
I’m pretty sure as soon as Spitfire reads this, she’s going to kick into gear and go all dommy on me to make sure I’m drinking enough, and taking care of myself. No, I don’t do anything illegal, nor do I drink alcohol that much, if at all. “Magic Sewing Juice” is something else.
This was CFNM on Sunday. Coyote was Djing, and I took this picture early on.
My irritable bowel gives me huge anxiety being out in public. If I’m having even a small problem with it, I don’t enjoy being out and about.
I’m a mom. What I enjoy and what my kids need can be at total odds with each other. How many times have I gone grocery shopping, soiled, because the kids needed food? Or gone out and paid bills. Or or or or or…
Kids need what kids need and mom has to put their needs first.
I tried working in an office space, and had an ibs attack in the middle of a shift and could hear my coworkers complain about the smell. It was during training for tech support.
We need to bring in more money. Our current income isn’t enough. But what can I do? Hobby Djing is not paying the bills. What can I do?
That’s the question.
All I can do for Spitfire right now is cuddle with her. She gave me some limited access to her collar so that I can sit her on objects while she’s on Lumiya.
I want to prove that I’m not him, so you’ll get to keep collar access after I get back up and running.”
Except, I know she isn’t. She didn’t disappear. She’s stayed in daily contact with me, even when she’s working, or while her computer has been down.
I know that once this is posted, Spitfire will be reading it within minutes. Then the discussion will happen.
Right now, she needs to concentrate on what she needs to do to get herself back full time on the internet. I’m not something she should worry or fuss over, at least not right now.
I will obey. I won’t do more than the shifts scheduled for already. But I will wonder if I can actually make it in the working world.
After all, if I can do the next ten days, I can do almost anything, right?
My life is a work of He.art 