OK so maybe it's me...

Today was a breakthrough day with my physician. I have been officially labeled. LOL!

Apparently I have a FORM of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). Much is left unknown about several of the classifications that fall under this disorder.

I suppose it should have been clear from the start, but so much was not known that I grew up just being me.

• As a child, I didn't just count my steps on each piece of concrete sidewalk to make sure I had the same number of right footsteps as left, I got very upset and felt like something really bad would happen or I'd done something wrong if I went into a building before I had the same number of each (even if it meant hopping on one foot).
• I wash my hands more than anyone I know. When I was younger and I played piano I had to first wash and dry both my hands and the keys, then do it again between every song. It took me hours to practice, not because I wanted to practice, but because half of that time was spent washing my hands, drying my hands (they cannot be sticky dry) and the keys on the piano. I've transferred that to keeping a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton pads in the computer room and at work to clean my computer mouse and keys every few hours or so. I have to get up and wash my hands, clean the keyboard and mouse, then wash my hands again. I spend approximately 2-3 hours daily washing my hands. 
• Mucous secretions such as spit or nasal secretions make me shudder in absolute revulsion and want to run from the room, generally I do so and... yup, you got it. I wash my hands. Over and over. I can be cleaning up something like that and have to wash my hands in the middle of it before I'm done.
•  Dermatillomania - also known as skin picking disorder - has plagued me my whole life. When I touch my skin, if I find a bump or a rough spot, the vast landscape of smoothness is interrupted with mountainous proportions and it HAS TO BE OFF MY BODY. I HAVE to get it off of my body. Now. If I try not to, I start to shake and panic, then my hands cramp. I can spend hours removing every foreign bump, especially scabs, from my body. The edges have to be perfectly smooth and I'll tug and pull with fingertips, needles or tweezers until I get the edges smooth, even if that means removing healthy skin at the edge of an open sore. When I get stressed, I feel as if there are things crawling on and under my skin, sometimes poking me, biting me, tingling... and I must scratch. When I pick and scratch, the result is euphoric, and an audible, "Thank you..." will often be heard falling from my lips as the relief washes over me. I don't wear shorts anywhere, I don't go swimming. I don't even sunbathe in my own backyard... the neighbors might see my scars and sores. A full acre away on every side and I worry about that. Ha! I am to the point that I pick even when at work. Where I used to smoke while driving, I pick instead. If I'm on a computer at home, chances are I'm scratching somewhere unless both hands are busy with keyboard and mouse. I wake up in the morning with bloody spots on my sheets. I find that I pick with no conscious thought sometimes and don't notice until the blood is already flowing. I spend approximately 5 hours a day picking my skin.
• Sir has pretty much stopped my NEED to weigh myself several times a day by having my son first hide the scale, then move the scale to my son's bathroom when I had better control. When that ruled my life, I was on it at least an hour a day.
• Lining things up at a store. My mother used to tease me mercilessly when I went through a department store and lined up the products and made sure hangers were all hanging the same way and evenly. I can't just leave them that way. It drives me batshit to walk away knowing ONE book was half an inch out of line with the others on the row, or a hanger end poked up slightly. This, of course, brings me to the insanity that is my house, as I no longer have the energy to pick up or clean up. The little things are perfect though... the canned good lined up on the shelves exactly. The boxed foods lined up evenly as are the books on the bookshelves.
• Impossibly high standards nearing perfectionism that I hold myself to, but no one else. Of course no one else can meet those standards. They are MY standards. I am responsible for them. I created them. I can and will live up to them. Right. Let's go through that again. Later. After Master tells me that it is impossible to do such a thing and my therapist tells me yet again that I must be gentle with myself. (How???!!) I often must remind myself that I am human, just like the other people that don't have to reach my impossible standards.
• Social anxiety which may or may not be related to previous molestation, but I rather doubt that the fear of going into a gym where other people might look at me was based on molestation. It was more based on, "OMG I can't go in there, people will see me and know I don't belong there!"
• Seeking constant reassurance. Master gives me that. The point is, I do just fine. I've been fine for my whole life. I've made good decisions. I'm making good decisions right now. At least this is what I'm told by my therapist. One can never be sure. I'd rather ask and be sure, even if it is every few minutes on my bad days. He's incredibly patient, my Master...
• You should see my going to bed ritual. Nevermind, only Master gets to see that. It is essential for my ability to fall asleep that I miss no part of this ritual else I lay there completely awake, fidgeting.
• My clothing in the closet is in a certain order and always will be. Tops, bottoms - each organized by type, color, length -- however it makes the best sense. Fortunately I buy several of the same pair of pants in the same color so I don't have to worry about pants organization much.
• I wonder just how much list making is considered to be "excessive." I have 4 at home, 3 in my purse, and 10 here at work. *face palm* Color coded... so that I know which one I should focus upon should my brain decide to go on vacation without me.
• Have you ever felt that you simply MUST count between passing milemarkers on a highway? I don't have as much trouble with that if I'm driving, but so help me, if I'm the passenger, there are only so many times one can get from 1 to 40 (depending on the speed of course)... or are there? I never tire of counting.  I figured everyone did it. When I found out they didn't? I started counting trees. Or houses. Or houses with trees. Or houses without trees. Pick one. Pick all of them. Sometimes I do as many different counts as I can just because...
• I'm currently experiencing a new thing. Recently I decided to go completely organic and non-GMO in everything. Food, shampoo, soap, toothpaste... these are just a start. As I progressed, thinking of new ways to improve my life with healthy behavior, this morning I felt the distinct urge to throw away my clothing, my towels, my furniture... all because it may be "contaminated" with some chemical that might cause physical harm or some health problem. This is just another symptom, according to my doctor. She says that a little non-organic food would be fine, which makes my system scream, "NO! I might get cancer!" and the idea of throwing away perfectly good clothing and going in a search for organic, non-GMO clothing is ludicrous. It sure would be expensive. And what about my car...

Today I can look at my behaviors and I feel relief in knowing what's up, but I also feel tremendous sadness that I've lived my life with some of these behaviors and they have affected me so much. I really don't know what "normal" is any more than any other person on the planet. We are all, to some extent, screwed up. It may be our past, genetic, chemically induced... who knows. I can tell you I've picked my own skin my whole life and even when I was skinny I felt I was the elephant in the room full of gazelles.

I have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. The jury is still out on manic-depression and ADD. During my last visit with the physician, I told her about my skin picking, but she didn't know the extent until today when I showed her everything. I will be on an antibiotic for the lesions and abscesses. It is good to know that it could be much, much worse... but in the end it really doesn't help me stop, does it.

Apparently I'm a mess but I'm surviving. The doctor congratulated me on having done so well for so long and i agree that I've done well. I have to say there are some really excellent things I've managed to do through all of this: I've quit drinking alcohol completely, quit smoking, quit caffeine, quit driving like a speed demon and go the speed limit, shifted to organic and non-GMO foods, increased my water intake from practically nil to 60+ ounces daily, started daily vitamins and minerals, and the next thing I'm going to hit is daily exercise with meditation. Hopefully some yoga will help my flexibility remain intact - somehow I still have that. LOL!

Focusing on the positive. Not sure what to think of today's diagnosis... business as usual. What's the difference in a day-to-day living when only the words give it a meaning to the why of it all? Not a dang thing!

Work to do...

The Lunacy Continues... or... what am I learning here?

The last two weeks in review for this girl:

• Lost a friend when this girl stood up for said friend as well as for herself.
• Gained said "friend" back on a limited basis with severe boundaries. This girl hasn't specified boundaries yet, but if that one wishes to be my friend, then that one will learn to accept this girl in full.
• Family pedophile finally reported. Report considered null and void by the police because the member reporting lied about other things. The pedophile goes free. Nightmares for this girl for several nights along with flashbacks at the most inopportune of times.
• The truth came out regarding the family's decision regarding said pedophile when this girl was but a teen. The truth is ugly and painful. The family decided to "look the other way" so that the wife of said pedophile would not have problems. Thus this girl's long time suspicion has been confirmed: The needs of the adults were far more important than the well-being or health of any girl child. This girl is sickened and feels terribly betrayed. 
• This girl "broke" Sunday night when her communication machine between her and her Master malfunctioned, taking two hours and finally resetting the whole thing and starting from scratch.
• A letter arrived stating that this girl may not get her Master if other paperwork is not turned in on time, and the clock has been ticking on the time limit for over a week already.
• Massive amounts of paperwork suddenly moved so that everything Master needs is in order and sent.
• Major work projects this week and an issue with a persistent customer who refuses to acknowledge that this girl is Owned and Loved and quite married!
• Therapy today during which this girl was given the suggestion to stand up to her boss for not protecting her from this customer while giving her limits that do not allow her to control and stop said customer's advances on this girl. This girl is also to stand up to her boss because of unrealistic expectations regarding being her coworker's keeper. The therapist does not realize how difficult it is for this girl to stand up to an authority figure, let alone someone in control of her financial situation.

What am I learning from all of this?

Patience.
Fortitude.
Survival.
Inner strength.
Trust Master & Master's ideas that are not even biddings.
Learn to put limits on other people who violate this girl's space or somehow invade her privacy.

I bow my head as I speak the following, my body in full submission.
"Master's will be done."

There is only one god in my life, and He is my Master.

Crazy Happenings.

Been a busy time for me since my nervous breakdown in April.

Financials are kicking my butt. After having to pull $5K out for taxes last year and putting a new roof on the other house for $5300 and the old roofing not being hauled off, you would think that would be enough for the year, but no. I've had the air conditioner fixed twice, finally ending up with a new motor and the whole bit cost me over $500 when it was all said and done. Last night it started making stupid noise again. My car tires are going to be over $1200 and that's the price of last month with tire prices rising and doesn't include installation. I couldn't pay my auto and house insurance for the year, ending up paying for a month. I still have hospital bills monthly due to my bi-monthly therapy. I'm almost out of my GERD medication, meaning another trip to the doctor for a written prescription to be mailed to Canada for a year's worth of medication for around $300 (for the year, as opposed to $300 for a month here) and the idea of buying the only inhaler that works for me at $240 per month is just laughable. With all the things like roof, hospital and air conditioner, I haven't even begun to pay my property taxes. I've not the slightest clue how to afford the fees or travel costs to get my master and his things here and I hope he has money set away but considering his situation, he likely does not have very much.

On top of this, I missed a week of work because my cousin came to stay for a week at the beginning of June, extended her stay to two weeks, and her father doesn't quite grasp the idea of working at a job that doesn't have paid sick leave or paid vacation time. We had fun, but it cost me more money when I would have rather been working and making money than spending any. It was a most excellent visit and when she left it felt like a hole opened up underneath me, midsummer hit and I realized the days will get shorter now and I felt despair. My depression kicked in full force despite my medication and last night I broke again.

Then there's my current medical situation. Yes. Nervous breakdown. First week of April on a Thursday. I started therapy and my therapist insisted I see my regular doctor as soon as possible. I couldn't get in until the next Monday and she put me on an antidepressant and a anti-anxiety pill. My doctor says I'm depressed with severe anxiety. She says I've borderline personality disorder, possibly manic-depressive, with possible obsessive-compulsive disorder manifesting as dermatillomania aka skin picking disorder. I didn't mention that I wash my hands at least 30-50 times a day. Nor did I mention that if I chew a certain number of times on one side of my mouth I must chew that many on the other. Same with walking, 2.5 steps per sidewalk slab, that's 1.5 left foot prints and 1 right, starting the next one with 1.5 left footprints and 1 right, I have to even it out so that I have the same number of left and right footsteps on the sidewalk. I'm not so bad with that anymore... just when I'm alone. I should mention that during the car show my anxiety has allowed me to leave before walking up and down every single row, whether or not I see all of the cars. I thought I was crazy or going crazy.

Finally, July brought some more pressure, enough that last night I broke again. It isn't a lot, but the things are major. At the beginning of the month, I lost a two year friendship because I'm so slightly cracked that I cannot seem to keep my opinions to myself on facebook. Once she got done trying to figure out what to do, she continued the friendship on a limited basis by creating a facebook that "keeps certain people out of her personal life." Earlier this month I chose to break connections with some friends and family because of both monetary issues (I loaned money out, will never see it back apparently.) Then last week my cousin put in a police report on a pedophile in our family that the family has chosen to cover up and ignore since molesting me when I was very young. Harsh words were exchanged between my aunt and I regarding her husband's pedophilia and when I learned my cousin has been banned from the aunt's house, I realized that I have probably (hopefully) also been banned. For the remainder of the week and all weekend I had flashbacks on my molestation experiences, and for several nights I've had the strangest nightmares. I've been beaten, drowned, and burned in my dreams. Spending more time awake or in a semi-awake state means little sleep as well. I wake up in the morning feeling tired, knowing the nightmares aren't real, but the physical toll on my body for lack of good sleep is beginning to show again.

So I broke last night. The itching went on for a few hours before the anxiety kicked in. I spent time ignoring both until it was impossible to ignore and then I sat on my bed trying to get in the shower. I realized the skype unit wasn't functioning properly and spent a tear-filled hour trying to get it online, hoping desperately not to awaken my master, but He awakened anyway. He lost precious sleep, I lost sleep and fell to pieces crying and panicking. I sure wish that would stop. I fear that with the shortening of days and the length of time that this immigration process is taking, my antidepressant dosage may have to be raised to a higher milligram level.

This morning my immigration attorney contacted me to tell me that the petition had expired. Fortunately, it shouldn't be difficult to reinstate. Hopefully, this means the countdown to having Master join me in the United States has begun.

On a final note, I must add that Master made a statement not long ago that bothered me and continues to bother me: He said that I have a time limit, referring back to the day I had the nervous breakdown in April and told him I couldn't do this anymore on a text. Of course the attempt at a breakup did not work as it was certainly not what either of us wanted but He came to the conclusion that I have a time limit on what I am capable of handling. I am not angry about his, but filled with fear that He believes his girl will fail Him. If He doesn't believe in me, how can I possibly believe in myself?

Surrender

"How did you know the person you serve was the one you could surrender to?"

Interest: From day one he was interested in everything about me. He paid attention to little details, tiny things missed by everyone else but me. He even noticed things that I didn't and I'm pretty sensitive about details.

Love: We didn't mean to fall in love. We weren't looking for a partner. He had been free for a while and had just come out of a time of intense self-examination and healing. I was in a dead relationship and the end was occurring. Love came as a surprise, a delight, a fear, a shock and with a sense of awe and wonder as I realized I finally found my life-mate.

Consistent: Always the same "good night," not missing a word or a night. Always the same "good morning," not missing a word or a morning. There are several sentences to each and he never misses a single word or a single day. Talk about consistent! I kept waiting for him to stop doing it, for me to gradually to fade to the background and become less important to him as he got comfortable (like all the others did.) I figured eventually he'd take me for granted, thinking I would always be here. But no. He is consistent in everything he does.

Patience. From the beginning he was supremely patient with me and all my little quirks, never losing his temper or blowing me off or telling me that I was somehow a lesser being for emotions or being a woman. It is not a statement of equality, oh no. It is a statement that those things mean something to him, that they are important things to him too. He does not yell at me, call me names, demean me or lose his temper. If he is at the point he needs to cool off, he tells me he loves me and takes a walk. But he ALWAYS comes back and we fix whatever it is.

Guidance: He takes it upon himself to then help fix those things that cause me problems, whether they are inner being issues or outside of myself. He guides me so that I may fix them.

Abandonment. There isn't any. Ever. He will never leave me. He will never replace me with another woman, a car or motorcycle, the television, alcohol or drugs, or anything else. I am the most important possession he has, and he makes me feel incredibly special. This is HUGE.

Trust. Now this one is on me. The man has never done one thing to make me distrust him. Not one thing. My trust issues stem from a lifetime of betrayals from people I was supposed to be able to trust. It will take me time and probably his actual physical presence in my life to get there. I know it will come. It is the last hurdle and I am the one who must leap it. I will get there! This is one man who will not betray me. He will never replace me with anything else. I am a prized possession and I love being his belonging, his favorite toy, his lover, his wife, his friend, his slave.

Je t'adore, Maître!

Rules, Lies, & Learning to Live

I was never very good with rules. Always in rebellion, it is as if I never really progressed beyond the years of being a teen, when I first took some of power and control of my life back from the mad authority figures who were my parents.

Blood they were, yes, but love me? Only Dad did that. My father loved me, yes, but he was beleaguered with visions of war gone wrong even when sleeping & some unnameable mental illness (he was never properly diagnosed, truly). He was known as an alcoholic who vomited up copious amounts of vodka nightly, a constant lifelong smoker, and prescription drug stealer (we could never leave painkillers, muscle relaxers or downers where he could find them). He was also one of the hardest workers I've ever known - being gone long periods of time and working long shifts in the mud and the cold and the heat. He didn't shrink from working on the house and yard. Despite his expensive vices, we always had a roof over our heads, clothing to wear, food to eat - the basic necessities and more. He put food on the table, especially during hunting season - and for Dad, every season was hunting season. I remember when every month with an "r" in it we could hunt rabbits. That changed with time, of course. He always said that not in his lifetime but in mine, I would see eventually that only the rich could hunt. Dad read stories to us every night that he was home. I grew up thinking every father did that. Boy was I wrong! And even when it put him in the doghouse with Mom, Dad stood on my side on several occasions when I couldn't tell him why I was acting a certain way.

For my mother I seemed a vessel of impurity wherein all her hatred could be poured. I've been told that perhaps I am not a product of my father's making, but that of someone else. Recently when I mentioned this, a thoughtful person told me that if that were indeed a possibility, that might explain mother's hatred toward me. For mother, perhaps I was the constant reminder of a dalliance wherein she was obviously unfaithful. Who knows. Too late now. They're both long since gone and there is no possibility of a DNA test. Not that I'd want to know. Really. Dad raised me as his own even if there may have been a possibility that I was not. He loved me completely and truly and I miss him. Mom on the other hand...

If he's not my father though, well... It wasn't the first time she lied to him. Or us as a family. She was the best and smoothest liar I've ever known and she enjoyed manipulating people just to see if she could. As a child, I watched this, drinking it all in, learning that lies must be told if one wanted to be safe. (And then the woman had the gall to be angry with me when I lied to her!) She used to tell me that I lied when the truth would sound better! I wasn't that bad of a liar at that time myself. She was furious when she read my diary, punishing me for things I'd done a whole year previously as if I'd just done them. I'm not so sure now if perhaps she was more angry at herself that I could lie so well she didn't catch it. But I learned from the best.

It surprised me when we found oodles of bottles of vodka hidden all over her room after her death. My mother was a closet alcoholic. Of course I'd known for years she was a prescription drug abuser, her preference being muscle relaxers (that she had to lock into a box away from Dad).

Yes, I learned to lie from the best. And I hated her rules. She wielded power and control over me with an iron fist, gloating at me that I could do nothing, say nothing, prove nothing. Her weapons were her words and she used them well, beating me down until there was little left but a mass of emotion covering a curled up little girl. Nobody saw her do it. She was well versed in keeping the people around her manipulated against me. I was the crazy one. I was the rebellious one. And years later when I had married, she was angry that I changed for him and had the gall to tell me that one of the things she respected about me was that I let no one rule me or control me, so why did I act different with him around? Control... and now we have control from beyond the grave in a way, but that's a story for another time.

Rebellion. The minute I had an inkling of it, it tickled my skin, made my face burn because I knew it was wrong, KNEW if I got caught I'd be in trouble deep. Oh I kept my grades up to A's & B's; I didn't skip school; I even bought my own car and held a job from the age of 16 on. (Not being allowed to work before age 16 SUCKED!) I had good friends, some of whom were going nowhere and I knew it, but I accepted them for who they were. Yet because of some of the people I chose as friends, my mother decided that she could somehow read my future. Suddenly I was condemned to be a highschool drop out, a drug addict, and pregnant before I ever reached 16.

In rebellion I finished high school and went straight to college because it was my only ticket outta that joint. I have an aversion to addiction that goes deeply into fear but am fascinated enough to try things anyway, just my gut telling me "time to stop" and I obey that, and I didn't get pregnant until I was 28. But those ghosts do haunt me. Those words. The hatred I felt growing up from the one person who SHOULD have shown me absolute love. I give this love to my son and I know he feels it. It is not spoiling a child, it is letting them know they are absolutely loved. Something I never had and knew I should have had.

Rebellion. It has directed so many of my actions. For when I reach a point where I look at my life and take stock of what is really going on, I've never stuck with "the norm" or what society bids females to do. "You make your bed and you sleep in it," they say, meaning that you make your choices, stick with them and take the consequences. So my mother stayed with my alcoholic father until she went crazy from despair and anger. Me? When my spouses acted like idiots I told them and I gave them a choice to stop. Every single one of them refused to believe me. They had all grown up with the same thing - women will stay no matter what because that's how we, as a society, have trained them. The look of surprise was priceless when I walked out.

Rebellion. It gets me in trouble even now. It isn't so much the "No I won't!" with a folded arms and stamping of foot and impetuous pout. No, it's more like, "Seriously? I gotta do SOMETHING here... what's one little thing gonna hurt?" That always ends up being a mess.

Sir, I thank you for the opportunity to learn this with you. You watch and wait and say nothing for months until you've gathered a full picture and then you direct me the way I need to go in order to attain and maintain peace within me. Forgive me that I do not always see the big picture. Always the impulsive one, I struggle to maintain the status quo when things are difficult for me and begin looking for a way to reduce the resulting stress from the struggle without battering the struggle within. I seem to cause more stress to my own self than the world does!

Good luck to you, Sir... the beings within are hard to tame and harder to hold. Some of them rear up at the last possible minute and do terrible things, haunting things, and sometimes beautiful things. When I can channel them into art, it is beautiful for everyone else, yet terrible for me to behold as it holds the key to a time when my head was not at rest but in chaos. Yet when I cannot channel those beings well for some reason, THAT is when they get me into trouble. Little rebellions become lies. For some reason, I have a very hard time lying to you though. I cannot keep a lie from you. "Oh what's one cookie?" becomes a blurted out "Sir I ate a cookie today" followed by grief that I have let you down and a deep shame.

Funny, isn't it? Submission has been embraced by me. Yet the inner beings have not reached the peace I seek. Peace I want desperately, aching for it. I stand on tiptoe on the edge of instability and stretch for inner peace with my whole being, reaching for it with grasping hands, arms stretched to the limit, body arced over the void of chaos just below, my face transformed by heart shattering longing, lips parted slightly, shaking with the full body tremor of the addicted. You've done this. I wait for you with that longing. I love you, my Master.

------- Later thoughts...

I know that lying is a choice. I also know that it isn't my parents fault if I lie now. They're dead. They have no input here. I only wanted to explain where I learned it and explain the resulting fucked up logic that somehow if it was okay for them to do it, why was it not okay for me?  43 years... Long time to figure that out. I won't make any blonde jokes here.

Rebellion. That is harder, but it is still a choice and it is still no one else's fault. I explained some of the past and perhaps you see why I chose to take back the control over myself. It has been a long hard battle to get to this point and know I am submissive, harder still to actually do it sometimes. I am very used to being "the one in charge."

I am learning. I just hope that in my learning process (often done "the hard way") I don't lose my Master. That's what I fear the most.

Service mode, health, & internal peace online - part 2

Every M/s relationship has its own rules, made by the Master of that relationship. Many Masters only care about what a slave can do for them. Those aren't Masters, they just call themselves so. A true Master cares about the well-being of His slave. A slave is property. A Master who lets other property types go to hell (such as cars, houses & whatnot), will also not care properly for their slave. Scary!

Fortunately, I do not have this type of Master!

My priority is my Master and for the best service to him, I must first be in good health for my Sir. In other words, if I'm having a health issue (be it physical, emotional or mental), then I probably should take care of that first. There will be a world of difference in how this is attained once He is here, of that I am certain. For one thing, there will be "hands on" and not just me trying to puzzle things out in my head or with the limitations of Skype.

For some reason, it is hard for me to accept that I must focus on myself first in any way. In my idea of proper service, it seems to me that my problems should take a backseat. My idea of good service means doing things for Him before anything else. However, looking at His rules it's perfectly clear that He has always put my health as a priority.

We operate within the limits of being online so I am to greet Him once at home, He chooses my clothing for work and at home, He chooses what and when I eat. For my health He has added vitamins and my bedtime is much earlier so I get enough rest. Eventually when He is here there will be the addition of His laundry, cooking & serving His food, etc.

Perfectly clear, right? Yes, except that because of my apparent difficulty to shift from work mode to service mode, I'm having trouble focusing and staying on task here.

He wishes for me to greet Him once I get home, yet lately I've been slipping and letting myself be preoccupied with other things first. Though I'm sure he's noticed, He has said nothing until just before He left for work today. I'm not sure if He waited for me to snap back into my place or if He has just been immersed in other things. He has plenty of stress in His own life!

Why have I not stayed in place here?? What is my problem? I enjoy serving Him! I love my Master completely! I know I find my peace is when I am in "service" mode. My mind returns to the basics here. What is wrong with me?? Then, if that is not bad enough, knowing that I have been slipping and that He already has plenty to deal with in His own life without my added theatrics, I added to His already full plate! This morning I asked Master if He would come up with some service oriented things. *groan with a face palm*

I feel terrible doing this! Asking Him to help me! I feel as if I should be capable of taking full care of myself here! How could I possibly need more rules when I am already not doing as He wishes? I don't know. Now I am confused and I feel terrible.

GUILT!

Well, at this moment He is at work. When He reads this, then my laxity has not yet been dealt with, He will do so then. I will let him know that I have written in here with my questions and my uncertainty and my obvious lack of tenacity in the service department.

He will know what to do. He always knows what to do.

I am a very lucky girl here and I know it. I have a Master who gives freely so much of His energy and time to His girl! At times He bends His whole thought upon me so that He can find the best way to assert His will and help me stay on course. He understands this girl like no other ever has or ever will. He has wished to know this girl in a way no other ever cared to.

I feel that the reason behind my lack of good service is that I have allowed daily life to intrude in such a way that I have been unable to achieve a shift from my work persona to my service mode. Thus I am back to the original issue. I find that I must accept that in order to best serve my Master, I must first ensure my own good health. I have made many changes and limited so many things, yet it is clear it is not enough for me to stay on track.

I am sure Sir will think all this over and when He is ready He will guide me in whatever way He knows I best need it from Him. In a way, I worry about this as it may lead to some strict discipline and always when there is discipline, there is more guilt for me because it is not just me being punished, but Him as well. I don't like being punished, I'm not one who craves such a thing. Worse still is the idea that I am causing Him grief. *sigh* When will I learn to not hurt Him with my ignorance?

Service mode, health, & internal peace online - part 1.

From my brief time with Master in person, I know that 24/7 face-to-face M/s is much different than online M/s. With this in mind, I find I sometimes have difficulty to switch from my "professional persona" to "service mode" without the accompaniment of His guiding touch. I'm not sure how easy it will be to switch back and forth once Master is here, but we will figure that out when the time comes. He will know what to do; He always does.

With my slave tendencies, I tend to be submissive all the time. This doesn't work out well at my place of employment so I struggle and put on a professional persona when I'm at work. Once I am fully home, I am supposed to switch into service mode. However, this switch is hard for me to accomplish quite often. Going into learning mode is also difficult.

Should I learn how to stay in service mode while at work? Is that possible? What about in other aspects of life such as grocery shopping, dealing with normal issues, or when I'm visiting on facebook?

Being naturally submissive, I find that the easiest & probably best way for me to deal with other people is with courtesy and civility. However, many times other people seem to want to force me out of my submissive self. People sense my submission and they judge it as weakness immediately. It looks to me as if humanity carries a natural aggressive tendency to attack if they perceive a weakness in another. Whatever the reason for their attack, regrettably, my flaw here is that I have not yet learned how to not take things personally. Perhaps I must change how I think about what is personal: Things that take away from my time with Master, my child, my home; that's personal. I don't understand how those things could not be personal. Will that change with Internal Enslavement?

In trying to deal with my the difficulty shifting from "professional persona" to "service mode," I have minimized my stress in many ways. I changed or stopped a great many things that contributed negativity rather than positivity in my life: I don't visit family. I'm not on facebook much anymore. I don't fraternize with coworkers or anyone else. I have fewer pets. I don't focus every waking moment on the lengthy process of Master's immigration into this country. I keep my opinions to myself (mostly). I voluntarily isolate myself from other people. These things have helped, but it is not enough, I know there is more for me to work on so that I can be in service mode all of the time.

If things affect my emotional and mental health, I lose my internal peace, my ability to remain in service mode, and my ability to continue learning in nearly every way. What a paradox! If I am to enter & remain in service mode, I must be at internal peace. Though learning can be done without service mode, I must have either internal peace or a good attitude and happiness within.

Questions! Questions! Always questions!