broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Phobias I have and how they hold me back.

This is a post that maîtser asked me to write as part of my punishment and I have been dragging my feet on writing it. Not in a bratty way or cos I don’t want to. But phobias are something I hate, don’t understand and feel ashamed about having them. I mean I’m 37 for Christ sake, being frighten of stuff Is stupid, and still I have them! Now I’m also going to point out something here that pees me off a wee bit, and that is what is and isn’t a phobia. Or more like what Is a phobia and what Is a fear. Fears are things we are frightened of , that could hurt as or do us harm, such as snacks or pain. A phobia is something that frightens, but is totally irrational, like clowns or buttons. I have a lot of phobias , so Im going to keep it to the top 5, so here we go…..

Seagulls, pidgins and crows- first up I am going to say it used to be all birds , but I have done a fair bit of work on getting over this one. I guess it stems back to when I was a little kid and got pooped on by a bird on a school trip, and the entire class, teachers and all laughing at me. It kind of escalated from there, ending at me not being able to go to places with loads of birds. I would get paralysed with fear or freak out and have to run away. I got over this slowly with the help of my friend Scott, who was training as a therapist and wanted a willing victim to try dispensation therapy on. Little steps , often was the way we did It. I now love feeding the ducks, or going to bird world or watching the birds on my garden. I only really have a problem with seagulls and pidgins now, as they are big, dirty and fly over my head. (Fear of being pooped on) . Crow are entirely a different thing, I have nightmares about dying and crows picking at my dead body. I think that comes watching csi I when drunk. Now if any of these birds come in the garden I either let the dogs out to bark at them or draw the curtain.

Deep water – ok so this Is not like deep water in a swimming pool. No I mean like in an ocean or lake. Somewhere I can’t see the bottom. I think It’s the not knowing what is down there. I don’t like things that make me go ‘ewwww’ . It kind of led to a little bit of a fear of water for a while and I got fixated on the idea that I was going to drown. But maîtser has work super hard with me on this, by helping to be come more confident in water and teaching me how to swim stronger. But I don’t think I’ll be going on any cursises any time soon.

Being sick in public – again this used to be of being sick at all , but now if Is can get some place discrete I’m ok . Now it’s just the thought of puking In front of people that really freaks me out now. If I can shut a door and get it over and done , we’re good. I don’t know where this comes from or why I have it, but I have for as long as I remember.

Eating in public – I am and pretty much all my life been a plus size lass. But as a kid I was tiny , both In height and weight. I got picked on In nursery school , and one boy called me fat and ugly. I have hated my face for as long as I remember, but I could do nothing to change that. But I could control my weight and when and what I ate. So I refused to eat at nursery or when out with my family. I would only eat fruit and veggies at home, with an occasional yoghurt. This went on for 2 months, till my nana talked me in to eating a little more. But I still could not eat In public places or round people o did not know . It got worse as I got older and I would have to eat at home all the time. It was restrictive and damaging, but the only way I could eat without having a full on panic attack. It got so bad my nana made me speak to the GP about it and I got CBT and therapy for it. I started to get better with my eating. But still to this day I find It really hard. It led in to comfort eating in the safety of my room, to not being able to eat round people I have just met and all sorts of other things. Lol where I sit to eat in public takes me for ever and maîtser says if I do eat in front of you , well that’s how you know I like you. But having babies has strangle help. I don’t want them to have hang ups, so I’m really am working on this. One way round it and something I am super proud of is , that if I know I’m going to be out at lunch time, I pack a sandwich and then get a drink and fries from McDonald’s, sit down and eat lunch. It’s not much but it’s a start.

Germs / unclean places / bins / public toilets – this is by far my worst phobia . I have health problems and I get sick a lot. Germs can kill , and over the years it has got worse. It’s not just a feeling of yucky and blah! But more of a huge panic and freezing up, and freak out and I can’t cope, sort of feeling. I got so bad that being sat near a bin would freak me out, I could not go in the bus station or pee when out. I would have to shower if someone coughed on me and people spitting made me wrench. I would wash my hands all the time and I carried hand sanitiser all the time. But I knew I need to work on It, so I did. It was hard work, and I’m by no means over it, but it’s loads better. I also don’t want It to impact on my girls so Im still working on it. I will get past It.

Well that is a little bit of an Insight into an anxious brain and what happens if Its left unchecked.

Hugs,

Pixie x

musings of pixie heart.

boobs behaving badly ….. for Ben and floss

Boobs behaving badly… for Ben and floss Ok I / we are a family who love boobies! We quit often have little arguments over who has the best boobies. (Does not every family) but sometimes boobs misbehave, with hysterical results. A lot of times things happen on are girl dates. Like the time Kitten and I went to a-trampoline park . I got carried away , was wearing the wrong bra, bounced to hard and my boob flopped out in front of a group of teenage boys. Or the time (when drunk) little bear and babe went to the loo ,but the was a massive cue , so they shared a cubical . Turning backs while the other peed. Little bear then decided to try and open the door with very little room to wiggle . Well she had at the time very big boobs (she had a breast reduction) and the door got wedge between them and her and babe got sort of trapped . After 15 minutes of trying to get free, a lot of giggles and help from some lovely ladies, some one went and got the pub manger and 2 doorman , to help take the door off , so they could get out. Needless to say we never went back to that pub. It’s not just when out boobies behave badly either , no happens at home too! I have always loved wearing skimpy slip style nighties, that make my small boobs look nice in (big head). I have before now woken up to the ups driver banging my front door, run down the 2flights of stairs, open the door , to find said drive turning bright red and avoiding eye contact . After signing for my parcel and saying thank you, I have come inside , looked In a mirror only to find my right boob had popped out. I should add that I have also answered door to the same ups driver in a shirt and panties, holding a very big kitchen knife In one hand and terrible scowl. Being poly and open , we play a lot at home. Cos well we like kinky fun and screwing , a lot . We’ ve had countless times that people have court an eyeful . The worst has to be when babe had kitten tied to a chair and was pouring wax on her tits, and the post man came through the garden gate, seeing what was going on , and tripped over. We now have a sign to remind us to pull the blinds! Naughty boobs or their owners run in my family. My sisters boob nearly came out her dress at her wedding. We have countless pics of family event with nipple showing through dresses. I have a very vivid memory of my nana trying bras on In M&S , and forgetting to pop her bra back on , leaving it hanging in the dressing room. In her defence she had dementia at the time and she was in M&S . But by far the most embarrassing boob gaff goes to aunty May. After mass one Christmas and a lot of sherry , she invited are priest and the younger priest back to dinner . After dinner and more sherry, she decided she needed a little lay down. We heard a lot of grumbling and moans coming from the guest room , followed a ‘sweet baby Jesus , merry, Joseph and all the saints in heaven” and a load thud. We all ran to the guest room , but the young priest made It there first. Opening the door , thinking aunty May had fallen over . Only to find aunty May tangled up in her blouse and bra , boobs out and stuck. She had tried to get her bra off with pout undoing it or taking her blouse of first! The shame off it! I would like to add this is why I don’t drink sherry, it makes even the mildest people into totally idiots. Well that’s us and are boobie tales shame!

family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., socail, Uncategorized

come back to me when your ready.

It must be one of the most heart-breaking things I have ever had to do, sit back, and watch someone I love, tear themselves to pieces, their heart breaking and their hole world crashing around them. I could run in and try to save them or fight away their demons for them. But that is not what they need or what they want.
I want to say it will be ok, it gets better, and it hurts less, with time. But who am I to know or think I have any idea what it feels like to them. True I know what pain feels like. I have had the emotional pain that was so sharp it took my breath away, that took over my life, aching so bad, and never going away. But telling some one to trust you when they just don’t trust anything, is not what they need. They need to learn to trust again in their own time and at their own pace.
I want to hold them and love them as hard as I can. But that would make them feel suffocated and restricted. They need space and time to heal themselves, to relearn how to be them and find what they need to be. So, I love them as fiercely as I can, from a far. Waiting for them to come to me when they are good and ready.
I remind myself of how I was when me heart was broken in tiny pieces and I thought I would never get my happy or self-back. I need to scream, cry and rage. I needed space, time, and compassion. I needed people to just carry on loving me for me. No judging, not telling me what to do or feel. I did not need someone to pick me up off the floor, but all the piece back in the right place and hold me together. I had to do that myself, I need to do that, and I need some to hold my hand, and to catch me when I fell again. I needed to fight my own demons, with someone stood by my side, encouraging me. it had to come from me.
So, I sit and watch, sitting on my hands. Loving, watching, and waiting for them to need me. but letting them come to me when they need me and asking for what help they need, when they need it.

 

For my Darling Emit, who without his courage and inspiration , I would be lost.

 

Hugs,

Pixie.

Ps –  give you Take me Home, By Jess Glynne.

family update, From the heart, Poly life, Question time., socail

Lean on me.

Lean on me.

This is a little bit of a gushy post, I’m just warning you. For anyone who follows my blog or me on twitter, you will know that I’m not well. My depression and anxiety have got really bad, and I have had to ask to go get more strutched help. I’m going to do day treatment for a few weeks. 3 days a week, 5 hours a day, cos I can’t go on feeling like this. I need help, big time. Yes I am strong and I will get through this , but I need help. Lucky I have a wonderful family and amazing friend on twitter who have been a godsend.

But I have been thinking a lot of late about who are real friends and who I trust . Sure I have friends enough, but I sometimes they are not always able to cope when my health, whether physical or mental is bad. I mean, like now, when having a mental health crisis, I would not want to be round me at times, so I don’t see why others should suffer the shit I put them through. I mean it has take everything for me to learn to trust maîtser and the girls fully. I feel so unworthy of their love and care at times. But they let me love them and care for them, so I let them do the same for me.

I then got to thinking about a really special friend that I have. Who, unlike most of my friends, started out as my friend, away from my family, who knew me when I was my ex. Who stood by me with through the shit I went through and did not flench when he found out I had told him lies, when I was sick and tried to end my life. Well ok he got really pissed off at me and nearly walked away, but he , unlike a lot of ‘friends’ took the time to find out what happened, to actually talk to me. He is my Sir Beasty, my darling man , Aedan O’Healy .

He from are first meeting was someone I just clicked with. Both with Irish roots, Miss spent youths and a love of swearing and food. (Although he hates marmite, but I forgive him that). It was very odd that from the start I trusted him, felt at ease around him and could be myself. He made it clear that he liked me for me, plain and simply. He was not after things or wanting , he was just a friend. When things got really bad with my ex , he was the one I tried to open up to. He was the person I admitted I had issues with my mum. I swear I could of told him I was a marshmallow covered in cheese, and he would of gone “cool, and?” I did not need to pretended I was happy or ‘normal’ .

When I tried to take my life, I remember speaking to him a few hours before hand , and trying so hard to tell him I What I had planned to do. But I was so far down the road of self loathing and hating myself, well I just couldn’t , I tried. I really did, but …. Ok not going there. But a few weeks of not speaking to anyone and being hidden away in hospital, trying to piece my life back together , thinking nobody from my old life would give me a second chance or even try talking to me . Well he messaged me , I think through Facebook, at like 4 am. It was not a pleasant conversation to have , but he made answer his questions, to talk and confided in him. It took so much to do that, but he made me, kind of admitting what I did and facing someone head on was a massive help. And him being truly amazing he , again did not flinch. After I got it all out , he said that he would forgive me, but I had to be upfront, open and truthful about everything from that point on. When I said I didn’t think I could and that it was to hard. I got a curt reply of “life is fucking hard p, you can’t give up on it” . So from that point on I decided to meet life head on and not flinch from what ever shit came my way. And although I had days I was a total bitch, a hot mess and set backs, he stood by my side, not trying to save me or put me back together how I was. But he encouraged me to just be me and fuck what anyone else thought.

He’s been their every step of the way in my recovery. From listening to whine about how shit my life was, to me fulling apart over being me, to losing it over not being able to do what I used to do. He was the person who, when I got together with maîtser, told me it was ok to love and want to spend your life with someone. He was the one I said that I was in love with maîtser first too. He did tease the hell out of me as well and kept call maîtser my boyfriend. (You big Irish knob).

One of the things I love about him is his empathy and his ability to know when something is wrong, even when I don’t . His also shown me it is ok to be sensitive and not to be ashamed of having emotions . If I’m upset he will let me cry, if I’m angry he lets me rage and if I need to full apart he will hug me a little tighter, till I can heal myself back together. He is one of the few people who can talk me down of high cliffs , when I don’t know how I got there or how to get down. He is one of three men I fully trust in this world.

But by far the best and most wonderful thing he has given or taught me is how to take my thoughts and emotions, and turn them to words. He taught me to write , take pride in my stories , and to keep at it. He has never once gone, p this is shit. He finds positive sin everything I write and do as a writer. He was the one I went to and said I wanted to write and blog about sex. Unlike maîtser, who said yes but let’s think about it. He said ‘ I think it’s fucking awesome idea, and what’s more I’m going to help you.” Not to say he has always positive stuff to say, but he is always straight with me , sometimes a little blunt. It was him saving about my spelling, grammar and punctuation, that led me to having a English teacher, something that I love so much. He pushes me to make time to sit down and concentrate on the words, saying to try and not use greats, happy, or said to often in piece I write. He is also the voice in my head say “turn the fucking spell check on” . He stepped up when I was freaking out about writing stuff and acted as my editor, an arxengmnt that works well

The oddest thing about are friendship though is , even though he knew I was D/s , he never went ‘oh so am I” or “oh I have a kinky side. But are friendship is and has from the start, had a bit of a D/s side. I have called him ‘Sir’ for, like 4 weeks in to being friends, it just seem odd and uncountable to call him Aedan. He could also tell me to settle down , shush or behave, and I just did and still do. When I got with Maîtser , with in 3 weeks he was given permission to tell me to be good and behave. He is affectionately know as my tech and writing Dom!

And to go with this all , he is one of the sweetest, charming , epic friends a girl could have. He always has my back, pushes me and makes me want to be the best me I can be. He will let me full apart, but won’t take any shit from me. I can grump at him, but he lets me know I no uncertain terms , when I’m out of line.

But, above all he has given me back the faith in myself, makes me feel proud of myself and looks out for me. He lets my lean on him , when I need to, and will lean on me when he needs it. So, Sir Beasty, I love you, whole bunches, you big Irish knob!

Hugs,

Pixie, aka Doris.

Ps – I give you Lean on me , the Bill Withers.

From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Staging a comeback.

So, I feel like I need to write about this, it feels like the elephant that is in the room, and it is bothering me. I know I seem to be blogging gloomy crap right now. I don’t mean to, I really don’t, I just have stuff in my head that seems to want to make its way out. I would try and stop it, but if I don’t let it out, well it hurts and that hurt gets so bad it is like the worst heartbreak and physical pain all mixed together. What is this elephant that I have running around my head? Well I don’t hide the fact that I tried to kill myself, but I do avoid talking about it and I know how unconfutable it makes people feel when I talk about it. But I need to so, here goes…
First up I want to set a couple of things straight. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I tried to end my life a few times. the were half assed attempts, done when I was backed in to a corner and out of anger. They were never about needing attention or wanting to hurt other people. Nor was I being selfish, wallowing in self-pity and defiantly not about other people. It was very much about me and how bitterly I hate myself. I also Self harmed by cutting myself, again this was not done for attention or as a cry for help. It was a way of dealing with anger and self-loathing that I felt, I chose to turn that back in on me, instead of lashing out on people I loved. However, the last time I tried to kill myself, well I meant that to work.
It happened about 8 weeks after the whole break up shit with my ex happened. Looking back, I can see I was sick, really sick. My body was doing a great job healing from the rape and beating that had been infected on me. But my mind, well that was not doing so good. I was numb, I felt nothing or everything all at once. But I grew up believing that mental illness and suffering with it was a sin, something to be hidden and never spoken about publicly. So, I hid the depression, the panic, the tears, and pain. Over the years I have learnt really well to stamp down on things that hurt and not to get upset in front of people.
The days and weeks that followed, were getting harder and harder to deal with. It was around 2 weeks after this that my brain really shut down. I was barley sleeping, eating, and drinking and maxed out on my meds. So, to cope, my brain decided to switch of, shutting down. I started to lose time, I would look at the clock and then when looked back a few minutes later, 2 hours would have passed. I’m here to say when you lose track of time and space like that, it is almost the most frightening thing in the world.
It got worse and worse, and I got the point of having to do something about it. I could have gone and spoken to someone, no I should have gone and spoken to somebody about it. But I the only thing I came up with was suicided. I knew I had an infection, but instead of getting help with it I hid it from those around me. I told people I needed space and I got it. Had a month’s supply of all my meds. I picked a night when I knew I would be on my own, I sat down with a bottle of vodka, took my pills, walked up the stairs to the bedroom I had nearly died in, lay down and waited for everything to stop.
What I had not counted on was my friends knowing something was not right (Thank the gods for my Darling Kitten), my sisters being very nosy and me forgetting to get my house key back off my Daddy. I was found just in time, but I was in bad shape and very nearly did not pull through. But my body, had other ideas and it decided to keep fighting. I don’t remember much about the first few days in hospital. I remember my sisters and daddy crying, Aunty May turning up and refusing to leave my bedside. I remember kisses on my nose from Kitten, my and being held by a gruff old bear that maitster. I remember my priest coming and saying preys.
When I was out of danger, well that is when things got tough. I want no more than to go home. But that was not going to happen. I was weak as flip, and my head was all over the shop. I was given 2 options by my sisters and doctors either voluntary stay in hospital and coverless and get help from professionals, or they would section me. no brainer really.
I was moved to a pulmonary and cardiac rehab centre, as I had fucked my lungs with the infection I had. so that became my home for the next 2 months. It was in the first few weeks that I put in some very hard work to get my head together. I was speaking to 3 counsels’ and a clinic therapist. I had to see my Cpn twice a week and was reviewed weekly by doctors. I was a mess. It was this time that mistier kind of came back into my life, or in to my life, depending how you look at it.
I have always said, we have been D/s before we even knew it. I was in hospital, angry at been treated like a child, when he came to visit. I ranted about how unfair it all was, and you no what he did?? He listens to what I said and when I finished, he decided to set me straight. He told me that people thought I was going to die, that I had acted foolishly, that I had lost their trust and that I was now acting like a brat. It was the first time anyone had been that open and honest with me in weeks. It made me break down in tears, and boy did I cry!
When I calmed down he asked me what I wanted to do. I said go home, hug my dogs, and get better, and most of all I wanted to be treated like a grown up again. So, he offered to help me. but the were rules and I had to do the hard work of fixing myself, he was not going to do it for me. That was when my ear pricked, everyone had been saying you need to do this or that and he was the first person who asked me what I wanted to do. So, I jumped at his offer. That’s when I got my first 3 rules from maitser . they were, no more lies, no hiding things and I had to keep talking to him.

Well that was 6 years ago, and oh how things have changed. I have gone from stupid, frightened little girl.to a strong woman, who knows her own mind and who will fight her own corner. I went from friend, to lover, to submissive, to girlfriend, to fiancé, to wife and landed at mother. I now have everything I never knew I wanted or needed. I’m finally truly myself.
But it has been tough. The have been times that I have fallen, but it has been me who has myself up off the ground, every time. I have had set backs, blips and melt downs. It has been hard work, putting me back together. I have people who help me and who are routing for me and will hold my hand when I need them to. but I did not do this for them. Nope, I did it for me. it has made me stronger than I ever thought I could be, it has made me, who I needed to be. And it has made me so determined to never ever go back to be a victim, ever again. I always get offend if some one calls me a victim of domestic abuse or rape. I’m no victim, I’m a saviour, and that has turned me in to a warrior.
So that is my ramble about how I made my come back. It has left me feel stronger, calm, and happier than I thought it would. And before you ask, yes, the epic, depressing post will hopefully be ending soon, promise!
Hugs,
Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Raw.

Raw.

I sit, numb and bleeding. I feel the tears rolling down my check , on to my t-shirt, but I make no noise. I don’t remember how I got here , or why I’m crying, or what is hurting the must. Is it cut arm my arm or the ache in my heart. I remember picking up the razor and pushing in tonmy skin, the burn I felt as if sliced in to the flesh, and the sense of calm that I felt as I saw the blood running out of me.

I remember the physical pain I felt with him. The pushing , that turned to shoves, that led to kicks, that led to me cowering on the floor. Him towering above me, anger burning in his eyes, fist clenched. I remember the slaps that turned to punches. Never leaving a mark on my face or any place people would guess how I got them. I remember the occasional slaps, turn to daily punches , that led to beatings so bad I could not move properly days.

I remember the mental pain he could inflict. The little put downs that turned to viscous name calling. How his words could maim and injury much more than a fist could any day. I remember the ways he controlled everything, losing friends, contact with my family. I remember the fear, pain and terror I felt, when he lashed out with those vile words. How it felt to believe them and the sense of total worthlessness. I remember the sobs that would rise up through my body , after he told my I was scum, stupid or disgusting.

I remember the fear and disgust I felt from the aggressive coercion to take part in or perform sexual acts that I did not want. I remember the deep feeling of shame , disgust at myself and the hopeless resignation I felt after the sexual violence. The searing pain and the loss of blood after fishing’s went wrong. The look of pure madness on his face when I told him no. The terror of being held down and raped, over and over again. The belief that I was not going to live till the morning. The look in my fathers eye when I had to tell him what he did to me, that will never, ever leave me till my dying breath.

And still , I rose again , to fight on , to live another day.

But some times, like now, all the memories come flooding back. Sitting in my mind and festering. Till they have to come out, some how. Yes they are less painful, not so bright, fading each day. But they are still there and on days like this the still feel raw, jagged and bright. They had to come out, and though I know the cutting is wrong, I chose that , over hurting those I love.

So as I sit, watching the blood and tears dripping to the floor. I remember it may feel raw for awhile. But with time it will fade to a faint scare, never truly leaving me, but becoming a scare, left to remind me, that I too, will rise again.

I wrote this after a meeting with my therapist a couple of years ago. I never thought I would ever think of , let alone hit the publish button on this. It is a real part of me and is as the title says, pixie laid raw at your feet.

Thank you for reading,

Hugs,

Pixie x

Question time., Uncategorized

Question time with the girls and …. Jay, from Tesstesst,nl

So up today on Question time with me and the girls is the wonderful Jay from Tessesst.nl. Writer of wonderful sex toy reviews, Sex talk Tuesday tweeting hero and all round nice guy! hope you enjony reading this as much as we did!

1. What is your favourite sex toy ever?
– Can I divide this in categories? Sure, I can!
o Penis stimulation: Fun Factory Cobra Libre II’
o Prostate stimulation: Meo.de Stainless Steel milking stick (yes really, it’s a milking stick)
o Kink: ElectraStim Duo Flick set
2. Sub, Dom, or switch? Dom, very much so, for over 20 years now 😊
3. What are your super powers? I’m an HSP INFJ with a knack for being very good at reading body language (and minds MUWHAHAHAHAHA) and will use it against you 😉
4. Where do you see yourself in 5 years from now? Reviewing more toys, having more fun, and hopefully getting payed good money for it.
5. If you could live in place in the world, where would it be and why? Somewhere where I am happy, that can be anywhere, but less of this cold Dutch weather would be nice.
6. What type of music do you like? Blues, Jazz, classical, anything, but I don’t really like rap or hiphop that much, oh and Just Bieber? Really? Why?
7. What is your favourite quote and what does it mean to you? “Qui habet aures, audiendi audiat!” Which means: Those who have ears should learn to listen. I’ll leave it up to you to the why and how of that quote
8. What was the last lie you told and why did you tell it? I’m already a member of your charity. Why? It was 7 pm and I was at dinner and they made me open the door.
9. What does your ideal date look like to you? Idealism is a dangerous concept, it will only end in disappointment. But hugs, cuddles and possibly awesome sex are good for the soul.
10. What is your favourite book that you could not live without? The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho, a must read.
Silly questions from little bear.
Why is the sea blue?
It was very naughty and the “creator” spanked it very hard.
Best sandwich ever?
“Hot Patato” Turkey Delight Sub (in Amsterdam, a much-missed sandwich shop).
Mayo or Ketchup? I’m European (ha!), so mayo of course. And not that hellmans crap either
Fruit or sweeties? Depends, mostly fruit though
Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No, but what it can do with other parts of other peoples’ anatomy surely is the stuff of legends

Want to find out more, here where you can find him!

http://https//www.tesstesst.nl

http://https//instagram.com/tess_tesst

http://https//instagram.com/jay_tesst

http://https//twitter.com/jay_tesst

hugs,

Pixie x

 

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., socail

From the heart – broken brain update

Hello, hi , hay! So I have not been posting that much or writing much. Normally when that happens , well it’s down to life is busy or I’m working or I have important stuff happening. But not this time people. This time it’s because I don’t or haven’t seen the point. My depression is back and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I’m not coping well, I’m angry, confused and tired. I feel invisible, unliked and ugly. I am hurting , sore and had started hating myself again.

I don’t hide that I have mental health problems, well illness. But I fight it , every bloody day and for the most part I’m winning. But over the last few weeks, not so much. This has largely been bought on by my mum being sick and her death. But the have been other thing at play to. My gp changing my meds with out consulting me or my physiatrist or me, has thrown me off balance. He changed my antidepressant to normal to modified release. Meaning that in the morning I would get a massive high, a huge kick of happy , that by 2.30 pm was leaving and by 5 pm was leaving me flat and on a downward spiral. He cut my main anxiety meds from 5mg 6 times a day, to 1mg 4 times a day. Meaning my anxiety level went from liveable, to through the roof and frightened to level the house. He increased my thyroid meds from 200 mg to 350mg straight away. Meaning I got even more anxious, slept less and felt every so slightly manic. Added to this he stop my anti inflammatory med and took out 2 levels of my pain medication plan. Leaving me trying to cope on less pain medication than I need , not wanting to jump to the really high levels.

Now normally I can cope with a depressive bleep, but I have been dealing with loss and grieve, for people I loved or had very mixed and complex feelings for. Not knowing how to feel or deal with, well it all started to get to much again. I was going through the motions each day, but not feeling anything. I was numb and confused. It’s when this happens that the anxiety and ocd side of my kicks in . I also start to get paranoid and start seeing things in other people’s behaviour towards me that makes me even more paranoid and sad. People not replying to msgs , cos they are busy and stressed , to me is them saying I hate you, get out my life, your a vile bitch and I hate you. It’s not the case , but in my head it was or is. It’s like the worse form of rejection and it hurts. Then the voices start to come back, telling me I’m worthless , hopeless , ugly, vile and a waist of oxygen. Trust me they frighten the fuck out of me.

I got to Thursday last week , and I was dragging my bum out of bed , and just going through the motion of being me. To an outsider I looked like I was doing good. That’s cos I have , over the years got good at putting on a front of being good. I had to, or thought I had too. I don’t like bringing people down or being a pain. I mean I’m the sad sack , why should I bring them down with me, right. I stop a sling things, or for help or for support . I but inside, every time I see someone happy , it twists the knife and kills me a little more.

By Friday , well the pain, hurt and yucky feelings got to much. They left me feeling so sad and anxious, it becomes like a physical pain. So strong it takes you breath away and brings tears to my eyes. I was hurting so bad I started to lash out at people. Not hitting or slapping , but with spiteful words and hurtful actions. I grumped at people on twitter, I thought ill of people and refused cuddles from my darling kitten. Things came to head when uncle Fred ask me how I was doing, and I just broke in to a thousand pieces. Thankfully or sadly , depending how you look at it, he and kitten knew I was not well. The called maîtser, who came home from work. Took all my. Tech away and made me take my meds for anxiety attacks . I was tucked in bed with little bear, I cried and feel asleep in her arms.

Maîtser knew what to do, he always does. He came home from work, checked my tech and meds . (I used to hide things that upset me and I have some times stopped taking my meds when I’m poorly). He phoned my cpn and got him to do a home visit. They looked and saw what had happened with my meds , and my cpn phoned and dealt with my gp and my meds. They got my an appointment to see my head doctor for Monday and agreed on a plan for the weekend. Basically I had to do as I was told, rest and let myself be looked after. I think not having to think about stuff and being looked after was really what so needed. I went to bed on Friday, took my sleep meds and slept for 13 hours straight. I spent Saturday playing with my dogs, watching Disney films and cuddling my babies. Sunday I wrote a little, went out for a roast dinner, played with my babies , cuddled kitten and wrote a little more.

Well Monday morning hot hear, and I was a terrified again. I still had in my head that I was having some sort of phycotic break or something worse and that oil was going to be made to stay in hospital. Aunty May came with me, even coming In with me (I seriously thank the nhs needs great aunties as a way to help look after people with mental Health problems) . After 20 mins of chatting and looking at things, the verdict was in. I’ve not gone mad, or lost the plot or need to stay in hospital. What is wrong with me then? My mother died, my dr changed my meds, triggering a depressive blip and I could not cope with it. Simple! We have made a plan on how to deal with this. It involves medication, therapy , hard work and time. But I have a plan, and when I have a plan , well it sort of makes me see I can and will get better.

But I have also had to realise some pretty hard truths, that really have hurt to come to. The are people who I have hurt, and they may not want me around for a while. That some people may not want me as a friend or in theief lives. That people sometimes only have time for the happy , funny and silly pixie. My behaviour has made me open to critasism and reproach . That some people say one thing and mean another. That I am only human and myself, and that even if they say not , that is not enough or what they want. That others are more their. Up of tea . And even though it should not matter , that my bad mental health, is not something they want to deal with or have in their world. I have to except this and move on but it hurts like hell and it is the thing I’m struggling to except, and will take a long time to deal with or get used to not being enough, but I’ll get their. It is hard to except , it hurts and is going to for a long time. But I guess the is worse things than losing people you thought were friends and liked you. It just hurts and makes me feel invisible.

Well that’s the end to this mental health ramble . Self pity and whining will be kept to a mom I promise and normal pixie is back soon, just not yet.

Hugs,

Pixie

Masturbation Monday, Uncategorized

A lunchtime delight.

A lunchtime delight.

The house work is done, dogs are walked and feed , babies are out to lunch with their nana. The house is still and quiet, except for the hum of the washer, a slight snore from a sleeping Hound , and the overly loud ticking of the kitchen clock. I should make myself sit down and write or answer the boring emails, but I’m in the mood for teasing and misbehaving. So it is time to strip off my top, make sure my boobs are looking delightful, and take a boob selfie. (Thank you so much candysnatchreviews 😘) . It gets texted to maîtser, along with a message reading ‘are you coming home for lunch? You could eat me if you want😋😉’ . Knowing fully well that he is in a meeting at work and what it will do to him.

My phone beeps 5 minutes later, and I’m not shocked to see that it’s from maîtser. But my fingers tremble slightly as I open the message, not from fear but from anticipation, want and need. It simply reads ‘on my way home, be naked and in bed. We’re not eating , your getting spanked and fucked, be ready’ . That is enough to have me making puddles in my chair.

Looking at the clock , I jump up from my chair and fly up the stairs . Stripping off my clothes and throwing in dirty clothes hamper. I grab my hair brush and drag it through the mass of unruly curls, tying them up in a high pony tail. Next I check my face, adding a little mascara, pinching my checks to add a little lush to my pale checks. (Of all things to inherit from my nana, I got her big toes, pale skin, curly red hair , and the dimples on my bum) I grab my tooth brush, giving my teeth a super quick scrub, rinsing with some mouth wash. Then it’s a little lipstick, sprites of perfume and grabbing my play collar. The purple one, plan , simply and to the point, pretty much like me!

I hear the car pull up on the drive outside, just as I reach the bed. I dive on the bed , settling back on haunches, legs spread, back straight, head held high and eyes down cast. Arms out stretched, collar in my hands. I hear the door downstairs open and slam shut behind you and then your slow delperate tread on the stairs. I have now idea how the flip it takes you so long to walk up 2 flights of stairs. I am getting more and more fidgety the longer you take, is that why you take so long?

Then the door knob to the bedroom turns oh so slowly, and the door opens, in what seems like slow motion, and in you walk. Bold as brass , cocky and full of that confidence that is so you. You walk to the side of the bed, unclasping my chain day collar, and putting it on the dresser. For a brief second I feel truly naked with no collar round my neck, but as soon as you take the collar from my trembling fingers , placing round my neck, buckling and snapping it’s padlock firmly shut, I feel as if I’m clothed again. You remove you shoes, tie, socks and shirt, and join me on the bed. Sitting with you back against the head bored, legs outstretched and wide apart. You place a pillow between them and pat the pillow. With a soft tone , you utter “come lay down little one” , motioning for me to lay across your lap and except my punishment, like a good girl.

I always love laying across your knee, it feels like home. But the fact you now lay a pillow down so my tummy has something soft and supporting it, so the baby does not get squashed. With it the fact I get to wriggle , stretch and wiggle till I’m comfortable and can feel what that does to you , well it’s yummy! “You finished my little mouse?” You say , with bemused humorous tones? Not looking up , I nod and sigh, resting my head on my arms, wait for that first slap and the beautiful sting and burn.

When it lands , its sharp and sweeter than I could of hoped for. I count each smack and remember to thank you for all of them. He keeps them coming, harder and sharp than the last, and each one excites me a little more! He finish with such a hard blow, that I know I’ll have a hell of a bruised bottom, that I will be proud to show off if ask to!

He runs his fingers over my bum, deeps between my folds, to find me wet and ready to go. “Did you enjoy that little mouse” he chuckles. I nod that I did , as he brings his fingers to my mouth for me to taste myself and hungrily clean his fingers.

All of a sudden I’m flipped off his lap and on to my back, landing with soft thud and a slight squeak. Next thing I know his back on me, only this time his gloriously naked , hard and ready for action. Planting a hard , possessive kiss on my waiting lips , and surging into me at the same time. As hard as the blow from his hand, his public bone hits my clit over and over. Knowing better than coming with out pumishtion , I claw at his back and bit down on his shoulder, praying he lets me come. I can feel how close he is and then with a roar his shouts at me to come, as his climax takes me over the edge, to my own shattering climax.

The next thing I know , he rolls on to his side snuggling me in to him , as I drift off to sleep.

I wake soon after , to the smell of hot cinnamon bagels and the feeling of my bum being rubbed. “Wake up little one, I have to get back to work. Eat this, drink your milk and rest for an hour” he says , place a kiss on my nose. I stretch , open my eyes and smile a lazy grin. With one last lingering kiss his gone, leaving me to my beagle and the wonderful after glow of my lunch time delight.

Masturbation Monday

From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Poly life, socail

Twitter followers give away, with tigger’s collars!

1000 Twitter followers give away, with tigger’s collars!

So a few weeks ago I was taking a stroll round Etsy , looking for a birthday present for my daddy (my father). When I stumbled across the most beautiful folio case ever, In lilac and baby blue. That takes a A4 pad of paper , with little pockets and clips for my pen and pencils. The downs side , well the fact that It cost almost £100! I can’t get my head round spending that much on myself or would I. So I took it to maîtser and asked if the was away to ‘earn it’. Him being my wonderful , fun Dom he came up with a list of tasks and challenges for me to work, with the end reward being the folio case. One of the goals was to get my twitter following from 666 to 1000. Well We’ve changed a few, due to work load , my mother illness and her passing and finding out we have baby number 3 on the way! But the twitter one stayed the same. The closer I got to the big the 1000 mark ,the more I wanted to do something to say thank you to lovely people who followed me. But I wanted It to be something very pixie-ish. Not being able to post unicorns to people, the next biggest pixie-ish thing I. Outdoor think of was my collar, and when I think collar , I think tigger’s collars! So I quite boldly, well for me asked tigger if I could give a gift voucher for her online store away, and it was met with a massive yes!

I have been a massive fan of tigger’s collar for a long time. They are beautifully made, with love and care . They are quality , leather , vegan leather or pvc based . With fabulous ready to wear options, that sing to my little, submissive side. Put by far the best bit is the build your own option! I have 3 of them, and I would wear them 24/ 7 if I could , but I can’t really wear my princess collar or spiked one to mass on Sunday, but I would if I could! With tigger you can pretty much email her and say can I have it x, y and z?and she will pretty much be able to make you , your dream collar. Then the is the arrival of your collar. Dear lord, all I will say is it’s like a birthday, Christmas and all your treats in a discrete little box In the post. Lol master says that every sub / little / kitten / princess should get to open a tiggers’s collar at one point in their life. Lol.

So fast forward to now, and I have 1000 followers and we have a give away! So what / how is going to work? Well I’m posting a tweet, saying to enter like this tweet to enter, names will be noted and after 10days, it will be closed , names go in a hat and a very lucky winner will be drawn! The is also going to be 3 small prizes of pixie post for 3 little’s as well , to sort of celebrate the birth of the undercover little! So let’s get this started!

Pixie x

Ps -this Is being posted by kitten , as pixie pops is poorly, but really wanted to get this going!