Archive for the 'depression' Category

Puddle

Published
by
Nadia
on November 2, 2008
in Uncategorized, depression, orgasm denial, sex, shio and squirting
. 0 Comments

Davey and I went to a friends’ Halloween party last night. It was a fun time, I drank too much, but I couldn’t resist leaning over to Davey at one point and saying, “Regular parties are so dull compared to the type of parties we usually go to.” *grin* After all, there was no nakedness, no sex! All there was to do was stand around, eating, drinking and talking. This pervy girl is just used to a very different kind of party. Still, it was good to see some friends I haven’t seen in a while, and to dress up for a night.
The night before I spent with MasterDoc. I was still in a funk when I got to his place in the evening. I was grumpy and depressed, but I had made a conscious decision earlier that day to be nice and not cranky. He was catching up on some much needed sleep when I got there, so I got dinner together while he slept as he had asked me to do, and attacked the mess in the kitchen. I have to say, while I’m glad I’m with a Dom who’s not a neat freak, I do wish that he was a little less messy. He can’t help it, it’s his ADD but it seems like there’s a never-ending mess every time I go over there. Still, I try to take care of it as good naturedly as I can, and he frequently thanks me for taking care of him. Appreciation makes a huge difference.

After he got up we had dinner and he debated if we were going out or staying in. I voted for staying in but said that I could probably get myself into the mood to go out if that’s what he wanted. (I was depressed, but not so bad I couldn’t be a little social, although that wasn’t my preference.) We cuddled for a bit and he got a call from a guy we’ve met at the club. The guy wanted to know if we were going to be there (I’m sure the club is much more fun when we’re there than when we’re not!). MasterDoc invited him up to see us instead (but he never got back to us). Ultimately he decided that we would stay in.

I was in the right mind frame to be cheered up. I felt down but open to feeling better, which I don’t always feel when I’m depressed. We straightened things up a bit, I showered and then went out to get us ice cream as I was totally craving it. (With the depression my eating has been terrible lately.) At one point, he comes up to me (naked, as he usually is) and starts kissing me and we found the one perk of me being tall - his cock fit right up against my crotch as we stood face to face. He moved his hips a little, and my tingling clit could feel his hard cock rub against the outside of my jeans. We kissed and I got so aroused.

After we had hung out for a while, he told me to go kneel in front of the armchair in the living room. He ordered me to make myself as accessible as possible, so I took my panties off. (I was in blouse, bra and panties at this point.) He told me to spread my legs apart and play with myself. I leaned over the chair and thrust my right hand between my legs. I was a little wet already. He had me get myself all warmed up. I was feeling so lustful that night that I was aching for a fucking in no time flat. Luckily, he decided to come over to me and fuck me from behind, right there as I bent over the chair. His cock felt amazing and I teetered on the edge of coming. It is such agony when he makes me wait to come but I get into such a state of heightened arousal that I suppose the agony is worth it. He told me that he wanted me to hold myself on the edge, and I’m sure he could tell from my gasps and moans that I was dying to come. He teased me for a while. I was a blubbering mess, desperate to come. He really knows how to get me into the state where I would probably agree to anything, or nearly anything, if only he’d let me come. Finally, he said the magic word, “Come.” And I immediately started to orgasm. His cock got pushed out and he held onto me as I kept coming and coming. I even squirted, oh about a gallon, as I came even after he had stopped fucking me. Everything with him is just so intense. I left a puddle under me which he had me sop up with a towel.

After I caught my breath we took a break and had the ice cream. Sex and ice cream certainly improve my mood. (Oh and yes it’s not just the sex and ice cream, being with MasterDoc helped my mood a great deal.) We had more sex after that, but silly me I can’t recall the details! It was hot, wonderful, I had more orgasms and it generally helped my mood immensely. I think perhaps he fucked my brains out because I really am drawing a blank on the details for the rest of the night.

Submission and Depression

Published
by
Nadia
on October 26, 2008
in depression, mental illness and submissive
. 1 Comment

I’m not ashamed to talk about my struggle with depression. Not any more ashamed than I would be if it were something like diabetes I was talking about. I look at it as a chronic illness I have learned to live with. Sometimes it’s easy to deal with and I feel fine, other times it comes around again and I have to struggle.

It’s not easy being a good submissive when you’re depressed. When mired in depression it’s hard to find the energy to take care of yourself, much less take care of your Dominant. I find myself in a bad headspace and I have a much harder time controlling my tongue and emotional responses. Submission requires a measure of self-control as well as the control of your Dom. As a good and obedient submissive I’m expected to be respectful and watch my tone when speaking to him, but when I’m depressed it’s much harder to do so.

I struggled with the beating on Friday because of where my head was. In the heat of it I felt angry, resentful and just terrible. I cried out more than usual and louder than usual because of how I felt. I put my hands out to cover my thighs when it hurt rather than taking it like I would have normally. I felt the urge to fight rather than submit. But despite having a hard time with it, it certainly wasn’t a traumatic event. My relationship with MasterDoc is such that even when I’m in a bad mood I know deep down that he watches out for me. He didn’t dish out anything that day that I couldn’t truly take, and as I sobbed uncontrollably he held me and gave me the aftercare I really needed. I’m sure it’s hard for someone outside the lifestyle to understand, but his beating me that day was done out of love and a desire to help me feel better. I often feel calmer and more centered after a good beating. Unfortunately I was depressed enough that it took more than that that afternoon. But I think somehow I needed to have the fight beaten out of me. I needed to be broken down so I could just cry and feel the horrible feelings inside me. I’m sure a few people would question my feminist credentials at this point, but emotions are complex things. Submitting isn’t necessarily a weakness. Being broken down can mean something bad, or it can be the opportunity for you to let go of negative feelings and then be rebuilt again, better than before. I won’t sob uncontrollably around everyone, but in the context of a scene it felt okay to let go and feel what I was feeling. It was a safe environment for me. I knew that he would take care of me.

Depression is hard on any relationship, but in the D/s dynamic it can be particularly hard. After all, MasterDoc is used to being able to control me -  and that includes making me feel better when I’m down. When I linger in a depressed state, and I can’t even explain what I’m depressed about (because I don’t know), I’m sure it makes him feel powerless. I know it makes him worry about me. I worry that the depression will cause problems between us. When depressed I feel down on myself and start thinking that my significant others would be better off without me. When I’m not depressed I realize that that judgement is up to them, not me. But depression clouds judgement and makes it hard to act maturely and rationally. On Friday night, instead of trying to be seductive when MasterDoc was focusing on my friend, or at least pulling him aside to explain that I needed attention and was having a hard time, I just curled up, withdrew and sulked. In my foggy mental state I couldn’t figure out how to constructively convey what I needed. I was afraid to speak up because I figured he would just tell me I was being whiny. But I shouldn’t underestimate him. He could tell that I really was in a bad place mentally and not being a pain in the ass intentionally. He took the time to take care of me, to pay attention and to give me orgasms to make me feel good physically and mentally. I’m really thankful I have him in my life. I’ve always needed someone who was strong enough to deal with my getting depressed and being mentally ill. It’s not an easy thing to live with - whether you’re the one who’s depressed or your lover is the one who’s depressed. But he’s strong, and because of that I feel like it’s okay for me to sometimes be weak around him.

Tears and Orgasms

Published
by
Nadia
on October 26, 2008
in D/s, bdsm, depression, flogging, sex, spanking and squirting
. 0 Comments

I spent Friday with MasterDoc. It was a quiet day for the most part and unfortunately I’ve been dealing with depression again. My mood was a pretty negative one, and so when we got down to fooling around I wasn’t really in the right mindset. I sucked his cock for a while but my jaw hurt and I was feeling cranky. He said that he knew what I really wanted, and that was a beating. I hoped that it would release some endorphins and help me feel better. My mood was really taking a nosedive, so when he had me kneel in front of the chair in the living room, and then said something a bit harsh (though for the life of me I can’t recall what he said), I started to cry a little bit before he even laid a finger on me. And so once he started spanking me the tears just continued to come. He hit me pretty hard and pretty long. He used the strap on me and the heavy flogger. He gave my upper back a good hard flogging. While at the time it seemed rough and hard to take I think ultimately it was cathartic to have a good hard beating. I cried a little throughout.  I had long said that I’d like to cry during a beating or spanking, and that it would be cathartic. It wasn’t quite like I had imagined it to be. I really felt down and stressed and emotional.

He had me sit down in front of the chair and he took to slapping my thighs with the strap and my pussy with his hand. The strap on the thighs hurt so much I cried out and covered my thighs with my hands and really burst into tears. He held me, telling me I was a good girl and telling me to breathe more slowly. It took a few minutes for me to calm down and in the heat of the moment I felt wretched. He asked if I could use a cuddle and I said that I could. We went to the bedroom and lay down, I continued to cry as he held me. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and escape the world at that point. He had hit me hard enough to bring blood to just below the surface of the skin on my ass, something he hadn’t done before. Initially it seemed that the beating didn’t help my mood, but after I had some time to cry and rest I did feel much calmer afterward. Still, my mood wasn’t fantastic. I felt really needy.

We went out that night with a friend of ours and on one level it wasn’t great to have a friend along since I really needed attention. However, I did enjoy having her there and once I got some attention I was able to enjoy her company more. We ended up in the bdsm room where MasterDoc put her on the spanking bench and gave her a spanking. He had me join in on rubbing her ass at the outset, then I sat down to watch as he spanked her. I was feeling whiny and needy and since my thoughts were so negative at that point I worried that I would be totally forgotten and ignored. I curled up on the bed and closed my eyes.

MasterDoc checked in with me and I was able to articulate what was going on - I felt like I needed more attention than usual rather than less attention and I was in an awful mood being ignored. He finished up with my friend then came over to me on the bed. He had me get naked and told me to get out a toy to get me off. I took out the magic wand. He plugged it in to the wall and put it to my clit. He also played with the archer wand inside me. My friend licked and stroked my breasts while he did this, and in no time I was begging to be allowed to come. He had me hold off for a little but when I was given permission, I came really hard and he kept up the vibration on my clit. I thought my head was going to explode, I just came and came and came. I screamed and I think I drew a bit of a crowd. I just got lost in the orgasms. He doesn’t usually have me come for so long. Afterward, he and my friend said it was wonderful to watch me as I came. I squirted a bit as I came.

MasterDoc decided to fuck me, and had me get on my hands and knees. (Our friend wandered off and found someone to play with/fuck.) He didn’t get his cock inside me but instead fingered me, and again I was begging for release. He had me come over and over again and I felt just completely amazing. That man is just amazing with what he can do to my body. At any point in time he is capable of making me feel so incredible. We took a break, then he decided to fuck me as I was on my back. I was so turned on and so close to orgasm the entire time. I tried holding off on asking to come for as long as I could. I didn’t come that round, but then he fucked me from behind again and I finally broke down and begged, “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please may I come, Sir?”

He let me come and for quite a while my vaginal muscles didn’t push his cock out. I kept screaming and moaning as he fucked me. It was so wonderful to be given so many orgasms. Eventually I pushed him out (I hate when that happens). As we lay on the bed, me catching my breath, I couldn’t stop telling him how wonderful he is and thanking him for letting me come. I felt amazing.

We took a break and hooked back up with our friend. After a little while we ended up in the back room and MasterDoc gave our friend a taste of the TENS unit. He put one pair of electrodes on one breast and had me put the other pair on her other breast. He fiddled with the controls and I stroked my friends’ breasts, neck, and hair. She didn’t mind it when it was on her breast, but he put a couple of the electrodes on her pussy at first and she had a harder time dealing with the pain from that. As he played with the controls for the electrodes on her breasts I could see he was enjoying turning the juice up and down. It’s easy to forget he’s a bit of a sadist as in many ways he’s really, really sweet. But at times like that it’s clear he enjoys inflicting pain. He continued to play with the controls, but then also slid some fingers into her pussy and fingered her. He brought her to a loud orgasm (I think she was louder than me, which is really saying something). All in all she enjoyed the TENS unit but didn’t like it so much on her pussy.

We packed up and headed home. Somewhere in the course of the evening I lost the case with my medication in it, so we spent some time searching the club for that and my Nea. We never found either, but MasterDoc still needs to check his car. I’m really bummed about losing the Nea. We ended up taking a side trip to my apartment so I could get more medications. I was really tired by the time we got to his place and I went straight to bed. I had to get up and go to work the next day, but I’m due to go back to his place this evening. I was in a better mood yesterday after having all those orgasms, but I’m still feeling a little down. I’ll be glad for more cuddles tonight.

Beating Depression

Published
by
Nadia
on October 12, 2008
in D/s, Uncategorized, anal, bdsm, depression, flogging, masochism, mental illness, orgasm denial, sex, spanking and submissive
. 1 Comment

I’m prone to depression, have been since I was young. These days, I’m happy most of the time - I have the proper medication and feel on an even keel usually. But on Friday night I hit a rough patch and was severely depressed. I have no idea what brought it on but I had been feeling very anxious earlier in the day. It could be thanks to a change in medication, could just be hormonal. Whatever it was, I was seriously depressed. I spent the better part of two hours crying, not knowing why I was crying. I was a mess. MasterDoc hugged me and was wonderful to me, but he wasn’t feeling well himself so he wasn’t up to beating me. I know it sounds strange, but the two of us knew that was something that would turn my mood around. I got up the next morning and went to work, still feeling wretched.

I went back to MasterDoc’s that night after work and picked up some ice cream on the way. Yup, I was looking to self-medicate. Thankfully, MasterDoc felt better and he decided that we would spend the evening in and a beating would ensue since I was feeling so bad. We had ice cream, then dinner, then he had me put my collar on and get on my knees by a chair in the living room. He had me put the blindfold on and he sat in the chair in front of me. He put clothespins on my nipples and flicked the clothespins with his fingers. He had me bend over the chair. Using his hands and other implements he really beat on my ass. My pain tolerance was good and so the sensation mostly felt soothing and good. Yes, I know I’m a strange girl. It’s amazing how wonderful pain can make me feel. It’s counter-intuitive to react that way but it’s just how I am. He beat me for a while, even taking the heavy flogger to my upper back for a bit. It’s a bit like meditation to be beaten - you get into this other mental state, which is usually referred to as subspace. He was fairly rough with me, but I felt better and better as the beating went on.

He gave me the magic wand and had me use it on myself. I was so turned on from the beating. I kept pressing the vibrating wand into my clit. I asked for permission to come, but he didn’t let me right away. He kept beating me, sometimes it really hurt, but most of the time it was cathartic. My arousal grew as I continued to use the vibrator on myself. He finally gave me permission to come, and oh my god did I come hard and long. I felt like I could just keep coming forever. He gave me some lashes with the whip end of my slapper while I came - it’s really something else what I can take during orgasm. Pain that is usually too much is bearable somehow. Between the orgasm and the beating, I felt so much better afterwards. It’s like a miracle cure for my depression. I suppose it’s the endorphins that are released, but whatever it is, it works.

We hung out for a little while, watching tv and whatnot and he had me take my collar off. I felt subdued. A little while later he put some porn on we watched for a while. I felt entranced by the kinkiness going on. He told me to get myself warmed up, that he was going to fuck me. I used the little red vibrator on my clit and was hot and bothered again in no time. Despite not having the collar on, I felt like it was appropriate to call him Sir and so I did throughout the scene. We went to the bedroom and he fucked me while I lay on my back. I tried to hold off on asking for an orgasm, but eventually I gave in. He didn’t let me come then, and afterward he asked me to take even longer next time before asking permission. It’s so hard not to ask for permission, I get so incredibly worked up and on the verge of orgasm. Sometimes it feels like I won’t be able to hold back, but so far I’ve always managed to have enough self-control. I worry that someday I’ll slip. He finished fucking me and we cuddled a bit.

He had me lay on my side and he tried to enter me from behind. The angle wasn’t right so he said he guessed that he would just have to fuck me up the ass then. He had me lube up my ass to get it ready. It took some work to slide his cock in, the angle just wasn’t very good. I complained about the angle but he didn’t stop. It was uncomfortable, but his continuing on despite this got me so hot. I really do think I’m a bit wacko as pain can make me feel so good. In another context I’d have felt traumatized or violated, but with him I got wildly turned on and when he told me to come I came. Rowr. Very hot butt sex. Mind you, with someone else I might not have reacted so well. I think it makes a huge difference that I know he knows what he’s doing, and he wouldn’t truly hurt me - not in a bad way.

I snuggled up to his chest, but I was feeling really lusty so I started to caress his chest and lick it. He stroked his cock while I did this and I kept it up, feeling oh so passionate and sexual. He was breathing heavy and I did my best to make him feel good. When he came, he came all over my tummy. It was gooey. I was eager to take a shower at that point, but he said for that I would have to stay with his come on me. While it was gooey I was longing for a shower, but once it dried I kinda liked being a dirty girl with his come on me. In the end I slept with it on me and showered in the morning. Did I mention that by this point my depression was completely gone? I’m feeling much better, although I do feel like I could go for another beating. MasterDoc called me a greedy girl when I mentioned that.

Depression and Scandal

Published
by
Nadia
on March 11, 2008
in depression and spitzer
. 0 Comments

Of course, after my last entry I ended up with a bunch of very nice people worried about me. I’m lucky to have a lot of wonderful friends who care about me very much. The only problem is that when I’m severely depressed I get really good at convincing myself that either people don’t care or that I’d be bothering them with my problems. Yeah, I know that’s a bit silly but that’s what it is. I got scolded by MasterDoc for not calling him when I was in crisis. I’m not used to having someone look out for me. I mean, Davey does, but I even shut him out when I’m depressed. When I was younger I always dealt with it alone, so I just fall into that pattern of withdrawal. I need to make an effort in the future to not shut everybody out.

I’m feeling better, although not 100% by any means. I haven’t taken any more days off work. I spent some time with MasterDoc over the weekend and he was very kind to me - letting me have a lot of orgasms. And despite how up and down my mood was that day, I felt really horny that night. Man was I hot for him. Rowr. That lifted my mood for a bit but then it’s been up and down since. Tonight Davey and I are going out to dinner, which is one of our favorite things to do, so hopefully that will make the evening enjoyable.

While MasterDoc and I were hanging out, he joked, if you’re going to commit suicide then you need to tell me first so we can go do all those unsafe sex things with you we wouldn’t do now. I mean, if you’re going to kill yourself anyway….

And I replied: “This is supposed to stop me from wanting to commit suicide?”

——————————————————————-

So how about this whole scandal with Eliot Spitzer? I’m kinda fascinated with all the hubub. I kinda look the whole husband-going-to-a-prostitute thing as more proof that monogamy doesn’t work. On a local paper’s website some people were commenting (all completely scandalized of course) that he has a beautiful wife so why would he cheat? Um, let’s see, new pussy is exciting. Being able to pay for a hooker who costs that much is exciting. Human beings are sexual creatures and our desires do not all fall into neat little missionary-position-monogamy-based boxes. Maybe the hookers would do things with him that his wife wouldn’t do. The unfortunate thing is that he got caught and has been exposed. I wonder how many other politicians have done the same exact thing only they haven’t gotten caught.

Yes, what he did is illegal. And thus he shouldn’t have done it. I won’t get into how I think prostitution should be legalized (and would be far more women-friendly and supportive if it was legal and regulated), I can’t argue with the fact that the man broke what is the law in this country and will now pay consequences. He made a sucky decision and got caught. Now he’ll have to deal with the fallout.

The one thing that does bother me about the whole thing (besides the annoying moral righteousness of so many) is that he is said to have pursued unsafe sex with prostitutes. Ok, dude, I can understand wanting new and interesting pussy, but to put your health and the health of your wife at risk is just WRONG. Slap a condom on that thing. Heck, you can do what you want with your own health, but I’m assuming that he and his wife are fluid-bonded and to put her at risk is unconscionable. That’s the thing that would have pissed me off if I was his wife.

But then we know that I’m not your typical girl.

Bad Week

Published
by
Nadia
on March 6, 2008
in assault and depression
. 0 Comments

I’m having a rough week. Friday night triggered memories of the assault in me and so I’ve been dwelling on it. It doesn’t help that at the end of this month marks three years since it happened, and this is a notable anniversary because after this I can’t report it to police. Time will have run out. In a way, it will be a relief, because then I can stop berating myself about how I should watch out for other women and report this man, all the while knowing that my own sanity is what I really need to watch out for. Reporting him would probably yield nothing and I’d be left feeling even more angry and frustrated than I do now.

Then with all my dwelling it dawned on me that next month marks 10 years since I was raped. What a banner year of anniversaries, eh?

To top all this off I don’t think my lowered dose of prozac is agreeing with me. I’m terribly depressed, even having thoughts of suicide and self-mutilation. I took a sick day today to call my shrink and see if I can sort things out. Mostly I’ve just slept the morning away but I did talk to my psychiatrist and I’m going to be back on the higher dose for the time being (after I’m feeling stable again, then we’ll try one day on higher, one day on lower, as an attempt to put my blood levels at some point in between the higher and lower doses).

I’m feeling angry and resentful that the sexual traumas in my life still affect me. I feel that they’ve left me emotionally and permanently disabled. I resent the fact that my relationships with decent men in my life can be touched by the assaults at unexpected times. (Triggers have occurred with Davey, and others, so it’s not just the nature of the play MasterDoc and I engage in. Really, anything can trigger it. There are times when I’m in public and I freeze inside because I’ve seen a man around the same age, build and hair color of the guy who assaulted me with a speculum.)

The problem with when I’m this depressed is that I withdraw and I don’t talk about what’s going on. I’m happily surprised that I took it upon myself to call my psychiatrist. I’m dismayed that I took a sick day because that means it’s really bad. I’m now going to spend the rest of the day reining in thoughts of suicide and hurting myself and just escape into playing The Sims2. And I hope that taking a higher dose of medication today will help lift my mood somewhat.

Wednesday

Published
by
Nadia
on April 25, 2007
in depression, irishguy and sexuality
. 0 Comments

The past two days I’ve mostly felt sane although tonight I’m feeling a bit depressed and agitated. I see my psychiatrist early tomorrow morning. While feeling normal for the past day, I’ve wondered if maybe I had made a big deal out of nothing. But in fact I hadn’t made a big deal out of it, I just mentioned this insanity to my therapist and she got very worried. It’s in my nature to feel bad about people worrying about me. After all, I’m not used to my own mother worrying much about me, so I’m used to just flying below the radar and suffering alone. I did tell Davey about all this the other night and he’s been expressing concern. And while it’s comforting to know that someone cares (and my therapist and shrink both called when it seemed like I hadn’t gotten back to the shrink, but in fact I had spoken to his receptionist about making an appointment) I hate people worrying about me. I think it might stem from some feeling of not being worth worrying about. Or some self-conscious response to feeling like a bug under a microscope. Yeah I think self-consciousness is the reason. I expect that people are now watching me, waiting for signs of craziness. And I’m afraid I might show them. I guess that deep down I don’t hate people worrying about me, I just hate the feeling of self-consciousness that goes along with it.

I’m tired of feeling like a broken human being. I’ve felt like this for so long. And just when I feel like I’ve gained some normalcy the depression comes back and I’m back where I started.

–
I’ve been contemplating why I slept with the Irishman this week. After all, I don’t feel like I’m getting much out of it since all he ever talks about is sex and that’s clearly all he’s after. But I realized that I get a sense of power over having a man want me as much as he wanted me on Monday. There’s some level of control being this object of desire and this sense of worth that comes from it. It’s fucked up for sure, but I felt powerful after fucking him. I felt like his orgasm was in my hands, had I not decided to play along he would have gone unsatisfied. And I like that feeling of power.

I’d much rather be friends with someone I fuck, but for now I think I’m going this route with the Irishman because it feels good to be sexual for a change and to make a decision about my sexuality (when it feels like the assault made my decisions for me for the past two years). I don’t feel entirely good about it, but I suppose I am getting something out of it - a sense of power, however fleeting.

Mom

Published
by
Nadia
on April 1, 2007
in depression, family and mother
. 2 Comments

I visited my mother yesterday, something I always dread doing. Mom is the root of the majority of my dysfunction. Her own dysfunction is startling. I never fail to be hurt by her obvious lack of caring. She’s never been to see my place (neither has my brother who’s so much like her) and I’ve been here over a year now. She doesn’t seem to have any interest whatsoever in coming. Most parents are curious to see where their kids are living to make sure they’re in a decent place. After all, my father’s come down here numerous times and Davey’s parents have even come for a visit from two states away. Heck, when she and Dad split up I was curious to see her new place where she was living on her own to make sure she was somewhere okay. We moved out of the house around the same time, and she was so concerned with buying herself new furniture and taking all she could from Dad that she didn’t give one thought to the fact that I’d be lucky if I could get my grandmother’s old, worn sofa from my Dad to sit on. (Dad being how he is, of course he gave it to me.) She didn’t care that I was starting with nothing.

Even something as simple as noticing I’ve drastically changed my hairdo totally escapes her. She’s got to talk about all the awards my brother’s won being an EMT and fireman, but when I finished graduate school I didn’t get so much as a “gee, that’s great” until a few days later when she simply left me a small gift on the tv for when I got home from work. She didn’t even give it to me herself and she was home. (And this after all the years of pressure she put on me to be “gifted” as she claimed I was. To do really well in school. The pressure was such that I’d consider committing suicide in high school if I got a bad grade.)

She doesn’t call me, but I force myself to call her now and then because I don’t want to give her something to lord over me (”You never call!”) but she has my number and if she gave a shit she could call now and then. Part of me wishes I could just let go and give up on her, but the little girl in me still wants her to care. I spend hours talking about this shit in therapy. I’m in my 30’s and my mother is still a major source of aggravation in my life. I’m just glad I’m not in the house with her any more.

I’ll never forgive her for the time when I tried to kill myself when I was thirteen and she, while driving me to the hospital, said, “Why are you doing this to me?” Even then, it was all about her. I was in so much pain at such a young age that I was trying to kill myself and all she could think about what how it affected her. I asked for help for my depression and all she’d tell me (even after the suicide attempt and after she actually felt freaked out the first time I cut myself) is that, “You’re not depressed, you’re bored.”

I can’t talk to her about any of this. All she does when something is too difficult for her to bear is deny it vehemently. She denies helping put me in heavy debt in my 20’s even though all my friends from that era (and my Dad who she put in debt too) remember the whole period clearly. When I was a kid, I would think that I was insane when she’d deny something. I must be crazy, I thought, since I clearly remember such and such but she totally denys it ever happening. At least as an adult I’ve come to realize that she’s the one in denial, and that my memories are correct. I asked my cousin if my Aunt does the same thing (Mom’s sister) and apparently she does. My cousin thought it was just my Aunt’s drinking that did it, but now she sees, as do I, that it’s a family-wide dysfunction on that side. My brother does it too. I hope at least my cousin and I can come out of this sane and functional.

Maybe this is part of why getting over the assault has been so hard. Yet again it’s someone who’s hurt me completely denying what’s happened. Competely denying my experience and my pain and making me out to be the nutty one. I’m not nutty. I may suffer from bouts of depression, but I’m not insane and I speak the truth. I’ve always been honest to a fault and brutally so.