The Holidays Are Always Hard [Me]

I think the holiday season is always hard for everyone. You've got to buy presents without enough money, schedule get-togethers without enough time, and visit all those relatives that you tend to avoid during the rest of the year. We're all stressed during the holidays, whether about money, time, relatives, or some awful combination of the above. Added to that, we hit the shortest days of the year, and the weather suddenly turns cold. It's dark and wet and dreary all the time. There's all kinds of work deadlines to catch up to, and now people pressure you to think about resolutions for next year. No wonder we're all cranky and depressed during the holidays.

Over the last dozen holiday seasons, I spent seven or eight of them working on a stage version of A Christmas Carol. Which means from the beginning of October until mid-December, I was Christmassing very hard. By the time the show closed and the actual holiday came about, I just wanted it to be over. The other years, well, I was still a single mom with a little girl to buy presents for - money stresses and trying not to fight with her father over scheduling ruled a lot of my holidays.

The last couple of years, I was driving back-and-forth up to Kentucky to get my daughter, move her out of her dorm, visit my parents, move her back in the dorm, and try to help everyone get everywhere they were supposed to be. Not only did I not have the money for presents, but I needed to buy lots of gas, too! Add to that, every year I tend to get really sick either on Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Day - like, can't open presents or get out of bed long enough to eat a meal kind of sick. So health and money have been major stressors.

This year, things weren't so bad. The new job means I have more cash than I'm accustomed to, so early in the season, I spent some quiet hours at work buying presents. The real trick was saving them for Christmas instead of giving them out immediately. So my money situation is much, much better than usual. And my fantastic daughter managed her own ride from her dorm to home, and she didn't have to move out-and-in her  dorm, so that saved me a couple of days of driving and lots of gas money. We even have a scheme for getting her back that will combine with visiting family, and not as much driving as taking her back myself.

I didn't sign on for any big projects this year, either. No haunted house, no holiday plays, nothing. So I have the time and energy to visit and do things - and relax some, too. And we figured out one cause of the getting sick every year - I'm allergic to the cinnamon scent that's in all the Christmas potpourri and stuff. By buying my gifts online, I've avoided the stuff in stores that makes me sick every year.

So the only thing left from above is fighting with the ex. Well, the kid's an adult now, and she's finally starting to stand up for herself with him. Which means I'm not interacting with him at all. In fact, her boyfriend is supporting her in that more than I am. I'm pretty pleased with him; he seems to be a good guy.

So yeah, all the normal Christmas stress stuff is pretty okay for me this year. I haven't stressed much about it at all. The weather's been mild, and I've spent lots of time with the people who are actually important to me. And some time resting and relaxing. Not that we haven't had ANY issues. There's always something, isn't there? Boss is searching for a job; his could end at any time. The metamour has on-again, off-again health issues - but more good days than bad, lately, I think.

Kiara still seems to be mourning Bear. But we're headed to his house tonight for gaming, and we went to a Yule party at his house. We're trying to figure out how to relate with him now. And we'll get there. For now, Sam seems to be best at interacting with him. She was never that attached to him. But Kiara came out for presents on Christmas, and she got several.

Paul got several Christmas presents specifically for him, too. He's had some rough times working through how his system interacts with Boss lately, and we weren't sure he would even come to front for Christmas. But he did, and now he and Boss are starting to work things out again, carefully figuring out how things work.

Gracelyn also took a period of being missing. But not because she was upset; just because she didn't feel that she was all that needed. She's always been mostly background, sometimes moreso than others. Boss has been on vacation from his job, so she hasn't been out to drive to and from work with him, as we carpool. When we drive alone, it's usually me or Sam driving. Silent One has also been much quieter lately, but it did come out the other night, and it was a very calm event.

Stephanie is continuing to show up, and less likely to 'go blank', taking the body into a disconnected state. Cherish hasn't been out much, though. There's another slave to take some of her being. But when she is out, she has a lot more confidence, even a hint of a sense of humor. I'd like to see her out more.

Rubi has had a few opportunities for topping lately, and has had a couple of serious play sessions as a bottom. She doesn't seem to miss Bear as much as I expected, or maybe she's just biding her time? I feel like her complacency may be temporary, so I'd like to have her a regular play partner again. But it's probably a good thing, health-wise, that we aren't having as many heavy play scenes lately. And Sam's getting more play now, instead.

Memory Rush [Me]

I've known for a long time that my memories from when my daughter was a baby were, well, toast. I could remember looking at the pictures, and I could remember some facts, but my memories from the time I was married to her father, up through about the time she learned to walk, are pretty nonexistent. That's the time period when I fractured apart, and yeah, nothing's there. The time period just 'skips' in my head, like a scratched record. I was a horny teenager, and then I had a toddler.

I know that those memories are blacked out because there are so many unhappy stressful ones there. But there are also all my memories of my daughter being born, and being an infant, and getting to know her. And I don't have them. I'd take back all the memories of abuse just to have my memories of my baby back.

Today I got a memory back.

One of the reasons I haven't been writing too much lately (among several reasons) is that I've been going through old scrapbooks and scanning all the photos to digital format. I have a fear that they're all going to get destroyed or lost or something, and I want to have that visual record.

I was scanning photos from her first year, and at Ten Months, I got to a picture where she's in a grandparent's lap with some cousin or another, squirming to get down. There's a real sense of movement in the picture. And something about the movement, the look on her face, or the clothes she was wearing, triggered a memory. The first thing I got was the feeling of her little fat baby thighs in my hands. I remember holding her, squeezing her thighs, and the way they felt. I remember the smell of my baby's skin and hair, and the exact way she felt squished up against me in a hug, squirming to get down. I even remember the texture of the outfit she's wearing in the picture, the exact color of pink and the coarseness of the cloth. I remember that ten-month-old little girl. And I've been crying ever since.

Merry Christmas to me.

Really Bad Poetry (Me)

I went searching out my scrapbooks so that I could scan more photos. And one of the scrapbooks I found was full of my old poetry. The stuff I wrote when I was 15 or so, and just discovering that boys could break my heart so badly. Most of it, of course, is pretty awful stuff. Are we all that dramatically emo at fifteen?

But I started typing them all into a document on the computer so that I'll have a record or them, should anything happen to the hardcopy. And there's something interesting I found. Very early on, I find heartbreak, not about a boy, but about two boys, or three. Stressing myself over how I can love them both, and how they could both be happy about that.

Some excerpts:

I swear by all the gods
That I am in love.
So why, then, must I still be forced
To care for all these others?

My heart is cut into many pieces
By many, many people.
Each cuts his own piece,
Whether he says he is a friend or more.

If only the second and first were to meet,
               And both were mature enough to understand.

So apparently I had some very poly leanings long before I knew that such a thing existed. Interesting.

A Fourth Blog [Me]

So I've started another blog. I'm up to four now; that might explain why I'm so inconsistent about writing to any particular one.

This is the primary blog. It's about being multiple, being poly, being kinky, about being me. Mostly, it's about being multiple, but the kinky and poly and other stuff all tend to bleed through. So really, this is 'my blog', in the sense of what a blog is typically used for.

The second blog I have is for my fiction writing, http://moretoconsider.blogspot.com. I have two ongoing stories going: More to Consider - vanilla girls meets kinky guy, gets into kink - and The Lockbox - girl wakes up locked in a storage box, at the mercy of some man. I have a series of kinky short stories, under the umbrella title Kink Me. Sam has written one short and intends to write more, under the umbrella title Sam And. And Paul has written a post with his memories, and intends to write more, under the umbrella title Be. There's also a vampire story and some poetry.

The third blog I have is my collection of quotations, at http://quotefiles.blogspot.com/. I love quotations. From well-known classic authors to Bible verses to bumper stickers, any quote I enjoy ends up there. I also have an entry of Toasts and one for 'Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Firefly'.

And now the fourth one. Stories of Tori - http://storiesoftori.blogspot.com/. I'm going to start recording some of the stories I tell over and over again about my daughter, what a cool person she is, being a parent, all kinds of things. I like to think that maybe one day I'll print them all into a book to give her, to share as she wishes with her own children.

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Thinking about these stories makes me sad. Because in many cases, what I remember is the story, not the actual event. My memories are so tenuous without some anchor to hold them to me, and sooner or later, it is the anchor that I remember. This was brought home last night to me, when I was scanning some old pictures onto the computer. Some of them were tucked behind other pictures, so when I took the first out of a frame, I found more. And some of these 'more' pictures, I don't remember. I mean, looking at them, I begin to remember the picture. But I don't really remember the time of the picture being taken.

For instance, there are a set of photos taken of me as a little girl in a velvet & lace dress, and then as a big girl in a velvet & lace blouse. They were taken by a particular photographer, along with others, and displayed at my house growing up. They were great photos; they won awards and everything. We decided, when my daughter was little, to get her picture taken at the same age in the same dress and blouse, in something close to the same pose. Since we knew that we had my picture taken at ages four and twelve, we had hers taken at ages four and twelve. Last night I scanned the photos in. And on my photo, on the back, was a date. It was taken when I was six, not four.

I've known for twenty-plus years that that was a picture of me at four years old. How did I know this? Because I remember hearing my Mom say it. And yet, there's the proof; I was six. Did she remember my age incorrectly? Or is it my memory that is faulty?

I scanned nearly 40 pictures. And with many of them, I remember the picture, but not the event pictured. Except for one. I found a picture of me with my mother. I am an adult, wearing a black dress with black velvet polka-dots. She is wearing a fancy white beaded dress. I think it was taken on a cruise we went on after I graduated. I'm pretty sure that's what it's from. But looking at the picture, I don't remember it being taken. What I do remember is the way the skirt of that black dress felt on my fingers. Looking at the black dress, I remember that I wore it in a choir competition in Chicago, with a women's chorus that I was in during college. Was it high school? No, I'm pretty sure it was college. And I ended up giving that dress to my mother, because she loved it, and it no longer fit me. So the photo doesn't give me the memory of the event it was taken for. But it does remind me of other memories - women's choir, and a gift to my mom.

The Magic Daughter - The Urge to Tell [Me]

More reading of The Magic Daughter. The author opens the book by telling of a time she was on an academic review committee, and was faced with disciplining a student who was also multiple. She feels attacked by the reactions of the other committee members, calling the student psycho and crazy. She didn't out herself, but managed to argue successfully on behalf of the student. But she felt like she should have done more. After the crisis passes, she had some rough personality switches, in reaction to the event.

"And I find myself struggling still with the urge to tell about my life as a dissociator and a multiple - and with the equally powerful urge to remain silent. The reasons for silence and secrecy are many and obvious. The first is pathology, plain and simple. A child creates multiple selves in order to keep her deadly secrets out of the way of her conscious mind so that she can continue to function and to survive. My secret selves protected me from the demands and expectations of a family focused in desperate ways... My selves contained my fierce desire to live, a  desire too dangerous to display... My selves hid the secrets of incest and of other cruelties that, all these years later, still take my breath away. My selves wept and sorrowed; they plotted wild, improbably scenarios of revenge. But they also kept safe my dreams, formed a tight protective circle around my soul, and acquired talents and traits that I would later smuggle, unbeknownst to my family and indeed to myself, out of the family circle."

 I faced my own committee situation just today. I read a letter in an advice column; a young man wrote in that his girlfriend had lied to him about having other relationships. He confronted her, and she said she wasn't doing any such thing. She freely offered to let him look at her email history. And the proof was there. She swore she didn't remember writing any of the incriminating emails. But there they were. She's been diagnosed with BPD; she's on medications. But she completely doesn't remember things that there is ample proof of.

To most readers, it sounded like she was simply lying to him. And that may be true. But any decent liar would have made some attempt to delete the emails before offering to let him see her email account. It sounded like she was as surprised to see those emails as he was. And yet they indicated an ongoing back-and-forth conversation. How could you not remember such a thing? What if it wasn't you that wrote them? Being multiple would explain it, and many multiples are treated for BPD (borderline personality disorder) first, as well as other personality and mental balance issues.

So I wrote in on the comments for the advice column. And then looked at the signature block. Do I sign my name? Do I explain that I'm multiple? I could see the previous comments above, vilifying the girl and telling him to get away from her. In the end, I did not identify myself, but urged the young man to point her to a therapist of some sort, with DID as simply one possible explanation. And though I had the option to sign my post anonymously, I went ahead and put an identifier - MultiMe, my handle on this blog site. If someone else reads that, and thinks they or someone they care about is DID, maybe they will look for me. Or at least take the negligible legitimacy lent by signing my post and listen, and see a professional about it. Instead of just dumping the person and leaving them still broken and confused.

The Magic Daughter - Introduction [Me]

I've just started reading 'The Magic Daughter' by Jane Phillips. I have a feeling you're going to see a lot of it here. I'm probably going to copy entire passages here for commentary. I'm very excited about it; it stirred up a lot of, "Yes, that's it!" for me from the first few pages on. In fact, I'm only 50 pages into it, and I'm saying now that, if you have any interest in multiplicity, you need to get this book - the Amazon listing.

The book jacket explains that it started as a suicide note, but the explanation became so interesting to the author that it became a memoir that served as her therapy vehicle, much like this blog has done for me. I love the tone of voice she takes. She avoids several tones I've disliked in other multiple accounts:

• I am a victim; I've been so horribly traumatized. Here's a list of the terrible things I've suffered.
• I am a hero; I beat everything and life will never be bad again!
• I am a professor; here is a treatise on how to cure a multiple.
• I am here to provide you a chronicle of what happened; figure out the emotions yourself.

And none of those are invalid formats; but they sure aren't a lot of fun to read. I read them anyway, for the nuggets of good stuff and thoughts they provoke. But I'm liking this one a lot. I was already familiar with it, a bit, because of a quote I had run into previously. So it's been on my 'To Read' list for a while.

I'm going to re-read the Prologue and put in comments here, probably with some quotes also, and then make myself stop to read more to you later. I appreciate that the author didn't sit down to write a book for people to read; she sat down to explain what she needed to say, and then the writing took over. Writing does that; it does it for me. It's both frightening and terribly rewarding to have the writing take over and pour itself out of you, like being on a log ride that jerks you around and speeds around blind corners and splashes all over you. But when you get to the end, it just feels so exhilarating and joyous.

Scheherazade stayed alive because she was an artful storyteller. I stayed alive because the business of writing about my multiplicity took a whole lot longer than I had imagined, and because within days of beginning this project, I soon grew interested in the task that I had set for myself.

If you've ever tried to write a paper as part of a committee, you may have some sympathy for the struggle it is for a multiple to write a book. There are a number of people looking over your shoulder internally, all making suggestions for changes and wording. My system has agreed that this is basically my project, but I often rewrite entire swathes to observe the needs and opinions of my alters. 

The author talks about the struggle she had trying to put the different pieces of the book into some sort of chronological order. But multiples don't think chronologically. It's like trying to take the events of the Back to the Future movies, the Terminator movies, the Aliens series, and Star Trek all into one chronology (by the way - look here). Technically, it can be done, but they don't have anything to do with one another. Or they overlap in conflicting ways. Even better, lets do the chronology as a group project, and no one has seen all the movies; different people have seen different ones.

And once she got some sort of chronological order forced upon the events, then there was the repetition. Each alter told the story from a different point of view, so telling it once is like trying to build a police report of an accident by asking ten different witnesses. Some things will match, others won't. And everyone thinks their version is the 'real true version'. And then - something changed. Trying to match the different stories led to the alters seeing each others' versions and sliding around to overlap them - and some integration began.

So let's stop there for a moment. How much of our individuality is due to our different perceptions of an event? When you go to see live theatre with friends, no two people will see exactly the same show. For any given scene, one person is watching the person delivering the lines, but someone else is watching the supporting actors interacting in the backgroup. Another person is looking at the set, and another has run to the bathroom. No one saw the exact same show. This is where film brings us together as a society. When you see a film, you typically all see much the same show, unlike live theatre, and even less like real life. 

But when you have alters comparing what they see/saw in life, it starts to bring them together, until they remember something resembling the same show. This is part of why I blog. By putting down my thoughts here, I am telling my side of the story, but I am also hearing comments from alters about what their view looked like. It brings us together. And if some one of us doesn't have a memory of an event, reading it as I write gives them some context, again bringing us together to think as a group.

Coming Out [Me]

I was thinking, this weekend, about the order in which I come out to people about things. I have several things to come out about:
1. I have multiple personalities. My parents and work don't need to know this; everyone else can.
2. I am polyamorous. My parents and work do need to know this; it's obvious when I show up with two other people instead of one.
3. I am kinky. My parents wouldn't be surprised, my work wouldn't care.
4. I am genderqueer. My parents wouldn't understand the term, but they get it anyway. It's obvious when you meet me face-to-face.

My daughter and most of my friends know all these things about me. These four identities are all mixed in together, as well. Each leads to the others, and they support one another. Now, most of my friends are in the kink community; many of them are genderqueer and/or poly themselves. My daughter and I are so close, than I would hate to try and hide any of these from her. I would also probably be unsuccessful. I came out to her about kinky and poly before I came out to her about being multi, and it was a relief when I had finally done so.

But some people don't need some of this information. At work, well, they figured out I wasn't a 'regular feminine lady' when they interviewed me. I mean, honey, I have a shaved head, and wear a braided collar every day. I don't fit the gender norm. When I RSVP'd for three to the company holiday party, they had to deal with me being poly. But my kink preferences have nothing to do with work, and coming out as multiple could be, I think, a really bad idea. So that stuff stays off the clock.

My parents have always known I don't fit gender norms really well. I've been teased about being butch or a lesbian since I was a teenager - but teased kindly. And since the dates I bring home have always been male, well, obviously it's not quite that. But they accept that in me. I'm pretty sure my parents are kinky as well, but it's not something we discuss. I don't feel it's really necessary to discuss specific sexual leanings with my parents anyway. I already know that my mom has a buggy-whip and has been known to chase her husband, naked, through the house with a squirt bottle. Hey, to each their own. This weekend brought up the discussion about polyamory. There'll probably be a couple more discussions once that's settled in.

The biggest 'hide' I've got is that I don't plan to talk to my parents about me being multiple personality. I'm not worried about them failing to support me or anything; I know they would; they always have. But here's the thing: I've got things under control. Being multiple is not holding my life back or causing any great drain on my ability to function in life. So what good would their support do? It would mean that, when I visit, other alters could meet my parents and talk to them without the 'switching lockdown' I do around them. And that might be nice. But I already have limited time with my Mommy; honestly I'd rather not have to share it. More than anything else, though, it would worry them. That's the biggest effect it would have, making my parents worry about me more than they already do. And that's not a gift I want to give them. So I've decided that they don't need to know. Unless something traumatic happens and they develop a need to know, we aren't telling them that I'm multiple. Nor that Boss is multiple. It just won't help anyone for them to know.

Hey, Mom, I'm Poly [Me]

Three of my last four posts have been about being poly, not about being multiple. And this one will be, too. I'll try to return to my primary subject soon. But this is important, too, to all the people inside me. Because I came out to my Mom as poly this weekend. Not intentionally - no, I wouldn't intentionally do that on Thanksgiving weekend, which is also my Mom's birthday. But she asked.

When I moved in with Boss, I did mention to her that I was moving in with Boss and Metamour. Well, I gave her names, of course, but this is a blog, yadda yadda yadda... At the time, she asked who that other person is. And I just said she lived with Boss. I added that Boss took care of her because she's sick, and had a commitment to do so. And Mom veered away from that conversation, so I let it drop. In fact, her final comment on it was that we shouldn't mention her to my step-Dad, because he wouldn't get it. I agreed. So in conversation with my step-Dad, Metamour's name has never really been mentioned. But I haven't made any effort to talk around mentioning her to my Mom.

So this weekend, after one such mention, my Mom asked, "What exactly is their relationship?" I replied that she is also Boss's girlfriend. "And you're okay with this?" I assured her that I am; more than okay, really. "It's like a Mormon thing, then?" I told her we use the term polyamory; the 'mormon thing' has more to do with religion, but yeah, they practice(d) polyamory.

Mom then brought up how she teases that my step-dad's singing partner is sometimes referred to as her 'sister-wife' because it takes both of them to keep him on his toes and up to date. I said, yes, it's like that. And we talked about some of the advantages of having two women to keep a man straight. It happens in the theater a lot to me, too. And so we talked about some of the advantages of being in a triad - many of the ones discussed in my last post.

Finally, Mom summed up the conversation by saying that all she really wants is for me to be happy. And it appears to her that I'm happier now than I've been in previous relationships, so it must be a good thing for me, so she supports it. So I'm out to my Mommy as poly, and she's supportive. The step-dad, well, that may not happen for some time, if ever.

The Joy of Three [Me]

"One" is on his own,
"Two" is about "Me" and "You"
But the joy of "Three"–
Is all in being "We"!

from http://polyinthemedia.blogspot.com/

NOVEMBER 18, 2012

You might have noticed that our poly family is in a 'V' shape. I am in love with Boss, and he with me. He and my metamour are also in love with one another. She and I, not so much. I'm not created in such a way as to love a woman romantically. But we are friends, and housemates, and family. She considers my daughter hers, for instance. 

Yet, even without being in love with both of my partners, they are still both my partners. We are a 'we', a unit of three. If I am invited to a party, I make sure that we are all three invited, not just Boss and I. Because of her health, she cannot attend a lot of events, but I make sure that she has the option. 

If there is any struggle in a couple, it is 'me' vs. 'you'. Often, each person thinks first of their own needs and then only about the pleasure of their opposite number. In a triad, it seems to me that there is more of a focus on mutual win and group harmony. Because we know that the outside world is against us, we make an effort to think about the other folks' needs and compare them to our own. It's not that poly people are naturally more group-minded, but that they conscientiously try to be so in defense against this anti-poly world we live in.  

The only other time I've had that 'we' mindset in a family was when my daughter and I lived with my parents. We split up chores and responsibilities in the household, but then we all made an effort to not only get our own done, but to sneak around and surprise each other by doing someone else's chores. It was a very positive atmosphere, with lots of love and group-mindedness.

I've never felt that in a couple before. It's like we're not made to see three sides in a struggle. Just like we don't naturally think strategically in 3-D. Our minds are in a 2-D mindset. This Way vs. That Way. Winner vs. Loser. Up vs. Down. With a third person in the mix, we have to think about... well, about how we think.

There are certainly good things about being in a 'we': 

• In a couple, it's easy to lose sight of your individuality when you're constantly with another person. In a triad, you get both together time and alone time to be yourself.
•  In a couple, you can get bogged down with always being with that other person, no matter how much you love them. In a triad, as you trade back and forth, you get a break when you need it, so that seeing that person again is fresh. 
• In a couple, the dominant partner will get their way most of the time, sometimes breeding resentment by the person that gives in. In a triad, the two more submissive people can support each other sometimes, keeping the dominant person from always getting their way, which isn't healthy for anyone.
• Part of falling in love is the chase, the getting to know one another. You give that up to some extent for the security of being with someone that you love and know. In a poly relationship, there is the potential to have both. I can love Boss and know he's at home for me, but still flirt and get to know someone else - without risk to either.
• Some things Boss needs to be fulfilled, I can't give him. But he can get those things from his other love. I don't have to try to be something I'm not for him, but he doesn't have to do without what he needs for me.
• By getting together with Boss, I not only gained a lover in him, but also a friend in her. Another person that I can be my raw, private self with. Because she's stuck with me just as much as he is. There is security in being committed to one another. And to have that with two people instead of one just means double the security.
• In a couple, if one person is being unreasonable, the other person has the entire burden of dealing with that upon them. In a triad, the other two can work together to deal with that. And usually, only one is emotionally involved in the fight. You have a less-partial person to turn to who can play mediator.
• Many people, myself included, need to gripe and vent about their love from time to time. In my metamour, I have that perfect person. She knows his idiosyncrasies as well as I do, and we can commiserate together.
• In a couple, if one person is ill and needs cared for, the entire burden falls on the other partner. In a triad, two people can share that burden, taking turns or working together to care for them.
• In a couple, you have one or two incomes in the family. In a triad, you have two or three incomes.

There are many reasons why I prefer a poly lifestyle; these are just some of them. A 'group family' might be a more accurate description. I love being in a group family. More is better.

Poly-fannish [Me]

This Saturday, I was watching Les Miserables on YouTube when Boss finally got up. He always sleeps later than I do, and my metamour is on no particular schedule. Between drugs, animals, and pain, she may sleep all day and be up all night, or the reverse, or nap frequently. So when I get up, I'm on my own for some hours, often, on weekends.

Anyway, I was watching Les Mis and enjoying the singing. I am highly anticipating the movie coming for Christmas. When Boss got up, he teased me about loving it so much. After all, I'm an avowed Phantom of the Opera fan. And I quipped back at him that I can love several Broadway shows equally without taking away from my love of Phantom. I am poly-fannish.

He laughed at me and suggested I should write about that as a great way to explain to people how I can love several people at the same time without loving any one less. It's a good analogy.

Of course, there are other great analogies. My favorite is that of a parent loving several children. Just because you love your son, does that mean you love your daughter less? What's your favorite poly analogy?

Finally, a Good Weekend [Me]

We've had a lot of really rough weekends lately. The change in schedule really messes with us. Particularly when the entire weekend is mostly unstructured. No particular time to wake up, to go out, to come home. All of these things put us on edge. Boss has been very jittery, as well, which makes us uneasy, trying to not make it worse. He's worried about his job, about his other girl, about me not handling the weekend well. And there's a lot of stress in the house worrying about my metamour, who has just come through some major oral surgery and may be headed for some gastro surgery if things work out well. That means she's been on different meds, which have messed with her sleeping and her scheduling and her mood (and thus ours). We've had dietary changes in the household while getting through that, with more to come.

So that means the last several weekends have involved some crashing, some depression, and some lost time. And fighting with Boss. But this weekend was NOT like that.

-----

Okay, I started writing this one a couple of weeks ago. And this last weekend has been - I think - the third good weekend in a row. We still haven't had any more structure, but I've handled it better recently. Of course, we're about to go into the holiday season, so it's time to take some deep breaths before each weekend and plan on having to handle typical holiday stress. We can do this.

Out at Work as Poly [Me]

I have taken a semi-irrevocable step. My company has a Holiday Party coming up soon, and we were requested to RSVP along with the name of our significant other if they will be joining us at the party. I requested that I be allowed to RSVP for three, and included the names of both of my partners, Boss and my metamour both. That was several days ago.

Today I got called into the HR manager's office. The RSVP was forwarded to him to deal with. Now, his great concern was that, should I bring two significant others to a party, I would certainly be outed to everyone at work. And people will talk, as they do. I reassured him that I had spoken openly about being poly with several people that work with me already, as it had come up in conversation. And that I am comfortable being openly who and what I am. So now he gets to discuss with the executive team what the company policy might be for attendance at company events. Is it 'employee and significant other(s)', or 'employee and one guest'? He'll get back with me.

The largest concern we, as a family, have with this is not that I am being open about being polyamorous at work. I have few concerns there. The bigger concern is that Boss has applied for a couple of jobs there, and this could color their decision on whether or not to hire him. I've spoken with Boss about it before, though, knowing that it would mean he would be openly poly if he got hired there. Though of course there is concern around the uncertainty of how that might affect his work life, should he get hired, I think we found some comfort in the fact that it doesn't seem to have affected my treatment here at work at all.

The other issue with this is that the company has never had both parts of a couple working for the company before, either. The jobs he is applying for would not put us in the same chain of command, so I don't really see that being an issue. But either way, HR has to talk to the execs about me and decide what company policies are before they deal with his application to work here. So the Holiday Party thing might be jump-starting that a little bit.

More on Stephanie [Me]

I guess we can stop thinking of Stephanie as temporary. She doesn't seem to be going anywhere. But we aren't creating a separate space for her - she has been sharing space with Cherish, and it appears that is a good move for both of them. The two slaves sharing a room is working out fine.

She was out yesterday. It started with a shower, of course. We were taking a shower with Boss, and then next thing I knew we had switched. I knew it when I realized she was holding on to our left arm. I'm not sure when he realized it. But he had her wash him, and tried talking to her a bit.

I think she probably can talk, with some difficulty. It feels like the inside of her mouth is too big for the outside. I think maybe she has a speech impediment or a deformity of the mouth, or maybe an injury to her jaw at some point. I know she can make noise, and she can talk with Cherish helping her. But she 'knows' that if she tries to talk, the words won't come, and ugly noises will come out. She kept thinking "I'm not dumb." But in her origin time, dumb also meant mute, so I'm not sure which she meant - or both.

I've asked Boss to help teach her some sign language. Even if it's just pidgin sign-language that only works inside the family. We have some that we use. We have signs for when we play for safewords - 'red', 'yellow', and 'green' - and we use signs for 'water', 'coke', 'lie down'. I'd like her to learn 'master', 'bathroom','hurt', and something to indicate a safety concern, at the very least. I'd also like to see him use signs or touches to talk to her - 'come here', 'stay there', 'undress', 'pay attention', commands for her to understand. I feel like she could communicate better with hands than voice. Sound just doesn't 'click' well for her.

Touch, however, does work well - for all of us. Boss uses touchpoints to help us switch or to comfort us, some reinforced by suggestion under hypnosis. Holding our wrists tightly is calming, relaxing. Touching my nose is to bring out Stephanie, touching my left ear is a signal for Cherish. Tapping on my chest will drop me unconscious. Holding a hand on my chest will help me wake up. As a system, we've proved responsive to touch commands over audible or visual cues.

After the shower, Boss left Stephanie in the room for a while by herself. He told her to stay out and wait for him. For a long time, she just sat in one place on the bed. But when she started looking around the room, we urged her to investigate. She doesn't have any sense of the things in our room belonging to her. She touched some beads on the shelves, and then started touching the books. She doesn't appear to have any recognition of what books are. But she did enjoy running her hand (the right one) along the spines of the books, back and forth. I'm also curious about how she would react to stories on paper.

Another thing I noticed in the shower was that she was checking out our hands and arms, feeling distinctly detached from them because the skin isn't brown enough for what she expects. Not long ago, we did some searching through pictures to find someone that she feels she looks like. She got the best feeling from this picture here (-->) of a biracial teen.

Oh, and when she was washing Boss's hair, she had a sort of a flashback to several slaves washing each other's hair. She was much shorter, so I would assume younger, than the others, and the soap burned her eyes and nose. It was lye soap, being used to wash the bugs out of their hair, or else it had to be cut off. Apparently, Stephanie's hair had already been cut off, but she was helping to wash other people.

Random Mishmash [Me]

So many things going on lately. A few random comments on things.

I woke up the other morning to hear our neighbors upstairs having sex. This made me both happy and sad. Happy that people are having sex, happy that it confirms the room above us houses adults (or at least people of age to be sexually active), and so there aren't kids upstairs hearing us. Sad because it's the first time I've heard them since we moved in back in April.

I went Kinky & Popular with a note about Red Flags in the community. That means that something I wrote on the fetish website generated enough hits (loves, comments, and views) to flag it as really popular. The kicker? I hadn't written it yet. I had only written an introduction, to come back later and finish it. Well, after it went K&P, I felt obligated to go ahead and finish the thing!

I almost never watch TV, but last night I made a point to be home to watch the Firefly reunion show on the Science Channel. This is big, because I only make that kind of effort over a TV show once or twice a year. So of course the cable went out - twice! - during the show.

Friends that are unreliable. There are a few in our (mine and Boss's) lives right now that keep making plans and cancelling (or just not bothering to remember to show up). Or they are really friendly and close and intimate one time we see them, but then standoffish the next. It's frustrating.

Two good weekends in a row, with no one crashing out or getting super depressed. Yay!

Speaking of depressing, the deck work is still ongoing. No end in sight, really. I hate owning a home.

I'm starting my Christmas shopping. I can't go in stores this time of year because I'm allergic to the cinnamon scent that's in all the Christmas potpourri and sprays. So I'm doing it all online.

One of my friends mentioned Sign Language in the context of a D/s relationship. I'd like to learn, and use, more. I'd like to try an occasional evening where I'm not allowed to talk at all, but have to sign for anything I want. I don't know if I can go very long without giving up and talking, though.

Kiara saw Disney in Concert this weekend at the Symphony. She was so happy she cried. There is something magical about the intensity of a six-year-old's happiness.

Studying Pervasive Development Disorder [Gracelyn]

I am doing some general investigation of Autism Spectrum Disorders, or Pervasive Development Disorders. I see no reason why I should not record my observations here, if I do so anywhere. Here we can refer back to our original observations at a later time, and Boss or other people can see what we've learned as well.

The singular worry I have about this project is not in recording my research, but in doing it at all. It is a natural human tendency to see a list of behaviors, or symptoms, and say, "Oh, that's me!" Those who do it to a severe degree are considered hypochondriacs. But it's something we all do, I believe. So by studying ASD with the idea that it may apply to Stephanie, it's possible that I could create the problem in her. Working with alters, it's certainly possible to create a disorder within an alter that wasn't there before. Most especially because she is still only partially formed. Her behavior is not 'set'. However, there have been enough signalling behaviors to indicate the problem, so it is advisable to learn more about it in order to try and help her.

My initial observations of her behavior first.
-She is disconnected from the real world, even when fully in control of the body. She completely tuned Boss's existence out when she was listening to the shower, until he touched her.
-Her perception of time seems tenuous at best. Even observing her, I cannot tell how long an activity has been going on.
-She has difficulty making a decision to complete an activity, or to begin a new one. If directed, I have the feeling that she could do so, but she lacks self-will in this manner.
-Her verbal skills, even inside our mental environment, are stunted. She does not converse with anyone else, only projects singular thoughts and emotions. For instance, when she sat down in the shower, her entire line of reasoning that I could observe was "feet hurt."
-She tends toward repetitive physical movements - rocking, shaking her head back and forth.
-She is drawn toward water. At least two occurrences of her manifesting have involved the bathtub or shower.

I'm finding lots of websites geared toward parents of autistic children. Obviously, we cannot observe Stephanie's development at 1-3 years of age. She is, we think, 12 years old at this point, and must be observed where she is.

My first reading site that has potential is http://www.brighttots.com/Autistic_behaviors.html. The first section mentions an obsession with water. I was unaware that this was related to ASD, just observed that it was true for Stephanie. The obsession with numbers actually sounds more like Kiara, and as a whole system we are very routine-driven. Of the simple stereotyped activities, again I think of Kiara, with her tongue-clicking and touching of textures. I have not seen either of these with Stephanie, though I have seen the rocking. In fact, of the complex stereotyped activities, I still see more of Kiara, with arranging objects and such. I've seen no tantrums or similar behavior from anyone in the system. However, our depressions, especially on weekends, when routine is severely interrupted or lacking entirely could be considered a very passive-aggressive tantrum. Again, though, this seems to be system-wide.

Moving on to http://www.worldofautism.com/ASD/Speech_language_problems_autism_spectrum.html, we talk about communication. I believe that Stephanie had a short conversation with Boss when she first presented, but the conversation was 'filed away' by Cherish, so I suspect she was conversing on Stephanie's behalf. I do have an image of Stephanie having something to say, opening her mouth, and then closing without saying anything as she tried to remember the mechanics of producing a sentence.

Individuals with autism frequently appear to have deficits in paying attention to auditory information. They frequently have to be trained to pay attention to sounds. Even when they are paying attention, many individuals with autism seem to have difficulty in decoding what sounds mean and in matching them to words or thoughts. In some individuals with autism, this may be because they actually have difficulties with words and thoughts themselves. In others, it may be more because of a mapping problem. Individuals with autism frequently have difficulties with articulation, often as part of a broader problem of difficulty with oral-motor functions (movements of the lips and tongue and associated breath control). 

Yes, the articulation was difficult for her. And she does seem to process sound differently - with less importance. The sound of water on her ear in the shower was important, not because of the sound itself, but because of the rhythm of it. Boss speaking at the same time had very little importance.

Here's an Australian site about PDDs - https://www.mja.com.au/journal/2010/192/1/high-functioning-pervasive-developmental-disorders-adults. And there are a few interesting bits here:

People with PDDs are also often slow, untidy writers;16 typing may not be affected, in which case learning to type fluently helps greatly with written communication.

Why yes, we do have terrible trouble with writing anything out; typing, however, came to us with ease.

Many adults with high-functioning PDDs describe unusual sensory experiences. In particular, hypersensitivities in many sensory modalities have been described, but there is little empirical evidence that these symptoms are more prevalent in people with PDDs than in the general population. Individuals with PDDs have described difficulties tolerating bright lights or particular sounds, especially high-pitched sounds.10Hypersensitivities to particular textures, including difficulty wearing some clothes, can also occur.17 Texture difficulties may affect the ability to tolerate some foods.18 Some tastes may be very difficult to tolerate19 and there may be sensitivities to certain odours,19 leading to restricted diets.
Hyposensitivities are less commonly described. Hyposensitivity to pain, where usually painful stimuli may not be noticed, has been described,20 as has hyposensitivity to cold.20 Some individuals describe fluctuations between hypo- and hypersensitivities.21 

Now this is terribly interesting. Our primary has, for years, reported a difficulty processing strobe lights - rather than getting the off-and-on input most people report for strobes, she gets simply 'off', as if the lights are off entirely. The primary especially, as well as Silent One, often hear a high-pitched squealing from some electrical equipment that Boss cannot hear at all. There have been times that we have failed to notice pain; recently we burned ourselves in the kitchen and didn't notice it until a blister started to form. However, we process visually quite well, and are excellent at spelling and mathematics.

I will be following up with more research and observations. I certainly think it likely that our system as a whole, but particularly Stephanie and Kiara, would test somewhere low-intensity on the PDD/Autism spectrum.

Stephanie Continues [Me, Gracelyn]

I wrote around the beginning of the month about Stephanie, a new alter. She came out rather unexpectedly one night, and the sense we got is that she would be temporary. Why, I don't know. But that's what she told Boss. So it's been nearly a month, and she's still here. We've seen her emerge a few times, and we've learned more about who she is. But not really why she is.

There was a theory when she first showed up that she existed to work through crippling fear and indecision, become stronger, and then merge into Cherish so that Cherish wouldn't be so crippled by her own fears. We've reversed that theory now. Now we think she may have been removed from Cherish, taking away the fear. Cherish has become calmer and more serene, even coming out on purpose a couple of times. And she is more confident in Boss's possession of her. She isn't afraid that he will get rid of her for any little slight, and she is quicker to accept that he may really value her for who and how she is. She has learned that, though she doesn't do very well serving him in a house-servant kind of way, she serves him by calming him when he's unsettled. She is his peace.

Stephanie is also slave to Boss, but not in the way that Cherish is slave. Cherish belongs to him heart and soul and could never imagine belonging to anyone else. If he dismissed her, she would come crawling back to him, begging to continue serving him. Stephanie belongs to whomever bought her and that just happens to be him. She is his property, no more so than the chair he sits in. She doesn't love Boss, only fears him.

I can see Stephanie clearly, too, now. She's twelve; tall for her age and gangly with puberty. Her tight-curled hair is cut short and pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, where it frizzes out. She's got bruises and cuts, and holds her left arm awkwardly - it's been injured at some point, and healed poorly. She's of mixed race, with that awkward beauty that many mixed kids have.

Like Paul, Stephanie came with her own 'creation image'. Apparently I read too many books as a child that imprinted on me, or something. Imagine it's the 1850's. It's evening, and it's raining. A man walks down the street, dragging a little mulatto slave girl beside him, clutching one arm. Whereas he has a nice water-repelling black overcoat, she's soaking wet in her thin cotton gown. His boots splash in the mud; she drags her bare brown feet through it. The man reaches a street corner and stops in front of another man. He yanks on the girl's arm, sending her stumbling forward to fall at the second man's feet. "There, she's yourn," he says. Accepting a small bag of coin from the stranger, he turns back the way he came, leaving the girl with the stranger.

I can see the image in my mind as I write. I can hear the man's voice, hear the rain splattering in the mud, even describe the cut of the big man's overcoat. I don't understand how these images are in my head, but there they are. Some multiples subscribe to a theory that alters are souls that have lost their bodies and come to live in another's mind. I'm too practical to believe such things, but there are days that I wonder if I might be looking at it all wrong...

--from Gracelyn:--

I find it interesting that it is raining in that mental picture. Stephanie comes out when called out by Boss, or on her own when there is water involved. Her initial presentation occurred when we were taking a long bath. We began to doze in the hot water, and then found ourselves unable to make a choice to get up and out of the water. Again this weekend, there was an episode with water. Boss found us sitting down in the shower (because our feet hurt?), letting the water pour down onto our head. Stephanie turned her head back and forth, listening to the way the drops sounded as they hit our ears. When Boss touched us, she was jerked back to an awareness of the world, but immediately tuned him, and it, out when he ceased touching us. Stephanie only speaks when spoken to, and then has to concentrate on it. I suspect that she may rate rather high somewhere on the autistic scale. Her connection to reality is tenuous, at best. I will be doing some research on the condition.

Working Through Anger [Sam?]

I'm working on dealing with some anger over something that should be small, yet my mind keeps returning to it again and again. I'm hoping that writing about it here will help me deal with it.

Background. I am allergic to animals. Like' take a pill everyday, and never pet an animal because my eyes will swell up and my nose will explode, and keep an inhaler in my purse and in my room just in case' kind of allergic to animals. My metamour has a dog and two cats. And they were the main point of negotiation about whether or not I could move in with them last spring.

The dog is not a problem; she is short-haired, and uses a puppy-pad to do her business. Unfortunately, she's decided that whenever I come home is the perfect time to poop, and her pads are near my computer, so I seem to always smell dog poop. The cats, however, are another matter. The female one is just a brat. She tears up carpet and insists on sitting in my computer chair when I'm not in it, and she loves to play in the litterbox, flinging litter everywhere. Again, not a huge allergy issue; she and I have agreed that we don't like each other but can live together. The male cat, however... He's old, and retarded, and spoiled. So he prefers to pee in front of my bedroom door and poop in the living room. He gets mad when I put my purse where it belongs, because he wants to lay there. And he's very vocal about it.

The apartment smells like cat piss, and it's his fault. The air burns my eyes and throat if I'm in the living areas too long. Watching a movie means an allergy attack before it's over, because the couches I bought are cat-spaces. I tried keeping sheets over the couches when I first got them, but since I was the only one doing so, it didn't take. So the couches are becoming unfriendly places for me to sit. But I can't sit on the floor - the one time I spent a little while on the floor, the skin on my legs started burning and swelling - cat piss and cat hair. Soon, I'll probably have to do what I do at my sister's house (where there are numerous dogs) - sit in a kitchen chair away from the regular furniture - end of snuggling time.

Most of the time, taking my allergy medicine regularly means I can handle all this, with the occasional shot from an inhaler. Without an animal in the house, I would probably never need an inhaler, and might not even need the meds. But I knew this when I decided to move in with my love and his other girlfriend; she has animals, and that's the way it is. I accepted it. But I argued strenuously that I had to have my own room. And there would be NO ANIMALS IN MY ROOM. Ever. Upon pain of water spraying, kicking animals, and throwing fits. I need to have a space that's as animal-free as possible. I keep my door shut 99% of the time, and run an air purifier 24-7. I hate the white noise from it because it further isolates me, but I need it. When I do laundry, it all goes directly to my room to minimize the time spent exposed to animal fur. Or vengeful peeing cats.

There are drawbacks to keeping my room secluded. If I'm in my room, I'm isolated. I can't participate in what's going on in the next room because I have to shut the door. Sometimes it builds a sense of claustrophobia. In a perfect world, my home would have no doors except the bathroom, and even that wouldn't always get used. I don't like separation. But there are animals in the house.

So the other night, we were discussing something unrelated, and my metamour drops a mention that sometimes she goes to my bathroom instead of the main one, for some reason. I can't really think of any good reason for her to do so, except for the rare rare occasion that Maintenance is doing something in hers? But regardless, for some reason, she occasionally uses my bathroom. That's mildly annoying, but acceptable. But then she says that when she does so, she brings the cat in with her and lets him run around in my closet.

I'm sorry, what? What part of NO ANIMALS IN MY ROOM didn't get through? Her excuse is that he stays on the floor, so no cat hair is getting on my clothes. Wait, you've had a cat for how long? When a cat walks into a room, every piece of clothing in the room instantly has cat hair on it - there is no direct contact necessary. I do all kinds of things to keep the animals from having an impact on my personal space, and she's bringing one of them into my room. And not just any of them, she's bringing the male cat - the one that's such a problem for me anyway.

When she said that, I made it clear that this is to stop. I looked her in the eye, and said "No animals in my room. Period. I don't care why." She started to argue; I repeated it. She shut up about it. But here's the thing - I have no way to know if she obeys the rule. And when it comes to spoiling that cat, like by not forcing it to be traumatically separated from her for the amount of time it takes for her to go to the bathroom, she doesn't tend to follow rules very well. Oh, and remember, she's multiple, too. So even if most of her alters are fine following that rule, the one that hopelessly lets the cat run all over her probably won't. And I'm not sure if she's the one I made it clear to that there are no animals allowed into my space.

So here it is a few days later, and I'm still angry about this. I feel powerless to enforce it; that's why I'm angry, I know. Would it be too much to print up a 'No Animals' sign and put at my door? That would probably hurt some feelings, but I'm not sure I care right now. And if she wants to ignore it when I'm not home, she can. It's not a matter of not remembering that the cats aren't allowed in there, it's a matter of not respecting that rule. Not respecting me.

Ding-ding-ding - there's the reason for the angry. She is disrespecting me by ignoring one of the few rules I have required in our household. There are plenty regarding her - keeping the lights off all the damned time so that it feels like I'm being smothered in a cave all the time. Keeping quiet during all hours of the day because she sleeps during the day and is up at night. Being uber-respectful of the needs put on her by her poor health. But I ask for one thing - leave my room clear - and she just disregards that entirely. I work very hard to be respectful of her, and I feel like it's not being reciprocated.

So what do I do about it? Well, I vent here, to make me feel better. And then, I don't know. Well, I need to wrap this up, my eyes are starting to burn, so it's time for me to retreat to my room for a while. And besides, the female cat is yarking up all over the living room carpet. I'm not cleaning it up. Gross.

Feeling Better [Me]

The depression seems to have been headed off. Last weekend I did get some really great playtime in, and Sunday we made some good progress on finishing the deck/storage building. It has a roof and walls complete. We need stairs to the deck part and a door on the storage part. We haven't had any major mental crashes since the weekend, and life is looking pretty rosy for the moment again.

I've talked to my daughter a couple of times, and I need to brag on her again. By the way, she's now starting to read my blog. I refuse to let that color what I write, but sometimes there's a twinge of related discomfort. But she's a big girl, and if she runs up on something she doesn't want to know about her momma, she'll skip over it. But the bragging. She was trying to come up with a topic for her group project in Psych 101 class, and she asked me if I was okay with her doing something on DID. Now, I thought that was cool. Not only that she wants to understand more about DID, but that she's aware enough to ask me if I was okay with that. So I sent her a whole bunch of links to information about DID, along with this blog address. Unfortunately, the teacher turned down her project proposal because DID isn't mentioned in her intro psych book - not even in the abnormal psych chapter. I'm thinking, hey, it's in the DSM-IV, shouldn't that be enough? But no, not this time. However, she decided to do a different project related to DID - she's looking at choreographing a dance about it. I love how creative she is, and how thoughtful she is in not only trying to understand us better, but in checking to be sure we're okay with it. When we talk on the phone, she almost always has a question about some preference one of the alters has or how some part of our system works.

I've been doing some more writing, or at least focusing a little more on writing I've already done. I'm really glad I threw all my writing into a blog, but a little nervous about some of the things on there. I can see people being greatly discomforted by some of it, even after the warning I start with. It's rough, or at least I see it as pretty harsh rough reading. But it's not like I'm twisting anyone's arm to read it. Paul even okay'd putting his original memory up there. I kind of hope he'll write some more.

Speaking of Paul - he seems to be back to normal, now. But last week he came out one day completely reset, without the memories of who he's been. It was very strange. Also last week, we had ordered for him a bootblack box - the kind with the little foot pedal on top, and it came in yesterday. But he was out last night and the night before back to his normal unruffled self.

Kiara's been out and less unhappy too. She got some new bitey-toys, some puppy pacifiers, that seem to be a hit. And we have orange push-pop ice cream in the house for her. A month ago or thereabouts, she was peeking in the freezer at the ice cream we have. There were fudge pops, that Paul likes, and ice cream sandwiches, that I like. And she looked very seriously at Boss and asked why don't we have ice cream for her. He told her he would get her some if she put it on the grocery list, and it just blew her mind. Somehow it had never occurred to her that she could put something on the grocery list just for her. So she did, and sure enough, we have push-pops now. She hasn't had any yet, but knowing we have them is pretty impressive to her.

Lately, I know I've been blogging a lot more about day-to-day events in my life than about the experience of being multiple. I know, it's a blog, and day-to-day is what a blog is about. But I also want to cover a lot more about the experience of being multiple. So, readers, if you have a suggested topic, let me know. Even better, go up to the tab above that says 'Who's Reading?' and tell me about yourself, and suggest topics there.

Seesaw Emotions [Me]

Last weekend was really rough. And Monday and Tuesday, I was still feeling pretty uncomfortable.

Tuesday night, we got together with someone who is new to recognizing that she's multiple, and new to exploring kink. And she had questions. My word, did she have questions. We spent two hours answering her questions, and she was very excited and sparkly in spirit. And we went home feeling very positive. At bedtime, Kiara was out and asked Boss to wrap her up in a sheet. She likes the comfort-feeling of bondage, whether rope or cloth or whatever. Rachel came out and tickled and teased and played with her a little, and we stayed wrapped up until we fell asleep.

So yesterday morning I woke up feeling a good bit better, feeling reasonably positive. We got one blog post written about being bald that's been on our 'ideas list' for a while, and got some ideas for some fiction writing detailed out a little bit more. So we were feeling pretty good. Work was pretty slow, and we read most of Hunger Games, and finished it. Kiara was out at suppertime and watched United States of Tara with Boss.

And then we went to bed, and fell apart again. To the point that Boss asked, this morning, why we were so upset with him. And we are upset with him, a little, but not really. We're upset. And that means that we're over-sensitive about things and get upset with him about stuff we normally wouldn't.

There's a lot of little things bothering me. We haven't had sex - not really - since the weekend. And since I pretty much lost the weekend, that means it's really been a while for me. I haven't had a good beating in nearly two weeks, and that always makes me jumpy. Sam's bored, which is not a good thing. And Rubi's been eyeing the scalpels again, about ready to entertain herself, since no one else is. Having both of the kids acting out is really stressful - Kiara used to be my destressor; her being unhappy really aches. I'm feeling rather un-useful at work. The deckwork at the house is incomplete and been sitting for over a week with no progress. The roof work is going to be an ordeal. I haven't gotten to really chat with my Mommy for a few weeks; we've been playing phone tag. With my metamour healing and grieving, and that making the Boss tense, I catch their tension and echo it. I have people that I care about and haven't been able to see in several weeks.

I am headed for a depression. I recognize that it's coming, and I hope I can head it off. Hopefully this weekend will have good play and fun sex and lot of socializing with people that are important to me. That will help.

And it's not as if there's nothing good going on in my life. Finally, for the first time in a very long time, I'm not terribly worried about money. I'm making more now where I am than my last job, and my spending has not quite caught up to that. My tenants are paying enough rent to make the house pay for itself. And even if something catastrophic happened, I'm not the only breadwinner in the household. I haven't had that - ever - in my adult life. And my daughter, oh my daughter makes me happy. I just got off the phone with her after a long chat. She's doing great at school and she's happy. She knows about my kink and poly and multiplicity, and she accepts them all happily. In fact, she wants to do a project at school about my being multiple, and asked if it was okay to take me as her example. I feel great about that, and I'm about to send her a lot of information. The educational classes I teach, Dungeon 101 and Kink 101, are doing well. Kink 101 is a new class that I've only taught once, but there are some opportunities on the horizon for them. I have been flirting with someone that could turn out to be a casual relationship for me. I would like that a lot. So there are good things going on. I just need to get past this depressive dip to enjoy them.

The Joys of Being Bald [Me]

A little over a year ago, I was preparing to work in an haunted house, and on a whim, I asked the costume designer, "What if I shaved my head?" Her eyes got huge and filled with glee, then she dragged me quickly across the space to the director, already taking off on a tangent and planning how to make me as androgynous as possible, to confuse our guests and leave them off-balance. And it worked.

Now, that wasn't my only reason for shaving my head. I've always liked my hair short, and the shorter it got, the more I liked it. So I had a curiosity about shaving it all the way off, just to see if I liked it the best. After all, if I hated it, it's just hair; it'll grow back.

But my other excuse for shaving my hair was because I was working on a calendar for the club - The Sexy Bald Men Calendar. I had gotten 14 guys with bald or nearly-bald heads to do photo shoots and submit photos for a calendar. And kind of in support for or advertising for the calendar, my head being shaved was pretty cool too. I'm even a couple of the calendar pics with my equally-bald pate.

The day after I shaved it, there was  health fair at my work. There was some guy touting the wonders of some kind of 'magic chocolate' - a chocolate-flavored health supplement of some kind, and you could see his face light up when he spotted me in the group as he began his spiel. When he got to the right part of his presentation, he looked at me and said, "I gotta' ask... cancer?" Poor guy was unhappy to hear that no, I'm just weird. Turns out his magic chocolate cures cancer, too. I may have narrowly missed out on some sort of revival-healing.

Some of my friends were worried about the C-word, too. I was also going through a phase of getting rid of a bunch of my stuff. And with my daughter having just gone to college, I was making a lot of adjustments to my life. That included a series of trips to the doctor to catch up on my healthcare. So some people put all those things together and started worrying about losing me. I had to post a huge Facebook note to everyone to reassure them that I'm not sick, just adjusting.

It does get me a lot of attention, being bald. Lots of black women stop me in stores and parking lots to complement me on it. They are always very empowering in their encouragement and admiration. When the rare white woman comments on it, it's always with a self-effacing, "I could never do that" kind of remark. It reminds me of some of the comments people would make to my mom about wearing a big hat to church.

Sometimes, being bald is really confusing to other people. People default to assuming I'm male because I'm white and bald. In a drive-through, I'm almost always addressed as 'Sir'. And I never say anything; if I minded, I wouldn't have shaved my head. But when they realize it, it's always amusing, yet sad, to see them stumbling over themselves apologizing. I got pulled over once by a cop, who didn't realize I was female until he looked at my license. Granted, it was pretty dark. And then he couldn't hand me back my license and get out of there fast enough. I told myself he was on the lookout for some belligerent bald white guy in a red pick-up truck.

Of course, that means it's easier for me to 'play' male if I wish. Paul loves that. And since it means reshaving every weekend or two, sometimes we shave off all but a small mohawk - Paul and Rubi both like the mohawk a lot. So I have options in my hair choice that can be changed easily by just reshaving.

I'm cooler at night, without a bunch of hair in my way. Which is great, because Boss is always cold, and I'm always hot. So getting my head cool helps a whole lot.

 My hair can't be pulled; that's both good and bad. I like my hair pulled, on purpose, by certain people, up to a certain point. And I miss that. But there are other things that can substitute. However, I never accidentally catch my hair in anything or pull it rolling over in bed or anything like that. And my hair can't be pulled past that 'certain point' where I like it. Sam finds it pretty darned amusing when a top's all frustrated because he wants to grab my hair and it won't work.

The weather's starting to cool again now, though. So I'm trying out a few different caps to wear, to keep from getting too cool. I bought one for Jarett that Paul inherited, and I've been wearing it the last few days regardless of who is out.

Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a window or a mirror somewhere. I make an unusual sight; I'm not your cookie-cutter magazine-ad girl. Heavy - mostly top-heavy - and bald white woman, no longer a young girl. My fashion sense is pretty muted; I dress for comfort, but not soccer-mom or couch-potato kind of comfort. I do have my own style. And for the first time I can remember in years, I really dig my own style. I like the way I look and the aura I project. I am an attention-getter, and I like it.

Poly with Kids [Me]

Okay, you have to go read this - Polyamorous with children: A mom's story. Here's a woman who contacted a newpaper and said, hey, you're writing about polyamory - here I am. I sense a kindred spirit here. I've not tried to hide who and what I am, and that brings a lot of peace and confidence into my world that might not otherwise be there.

She has kids, and they know, and it's no big deal. Because they didn't make a big deal about it. I have a kid, and it's no big deal to her, because we didn't make a big deal about it. "Hey, kid. I'm moving in with my boyfriend. By the way, his other girlfriend also lives with him, so we'll all be living together." Her main question was, "Are you good with that?" And I am, so she is too. We've already found out that my daughter is definitely monogomous herself. And that's cool too.

I love how she answers the question "So no one had a problem with it?" Yeah, some people stopped being friends with me over it. And we moved on. Your friends are supposed to be the people that support you. If they can't support you being happy as you are, then they aren't friends, and it's good to recognize that you aren't friends, and move on. It happens, friendships evolve, or they end.

Still Unsettled [Me]

I got to listen in on Gracelyn and Boss discussing everything on the ride in this morning. They do, often. It's like I have two therapists comparing notes about my treatment, only I get to eavesdrop on the meeting. All my life, riding in the car has been the best time to have a discussion with someone else. You're both going to be physically present the entire time, and because you're both facing forward, eye contact isn't going to be constant. And some things are easier to say when you aren't making eye contact.

They talked about this weekend. Turns out there was a big fight between him and the metamour on Saturday night before he and I went to the club that I didn't know about. I knew there was tension, but not that it had erupted. Which makes his crash on Saturday night make even more sense. On one hand, he probably shouldn't have gone to the club at all; on the other hand, staying home would have been worse.

They also talked about individual alters. Gracelyn herself, which is unusual. But she hasn't been coming out much lately. His clue to that is that she hasn't been keeping the dishes done each night. That's her thing, that and driving in to work in the morning. Which she's also been letting slide for me to do. He's done dishes and not said a thing, which is pretty awesome of him, actually, since I know he hates doing dishes even more than I do.

Oddly enough, Kiara's been doing the dishes as often as anyone else. And she's been out cleaning our room and straightening up. It's pretty cool that she's doing some housework, but really it's not housework so much as OCD-work. She's always been soothed by organizing and putting things in order. One time when she was upset I got out a bunch of quarters and let her stack and sort them into piles, and that really helped her. So she's doing organizing to soothe herself. What worries Gracelyn and Boss is that she's doing a lot of solo stuff. Kiara's a social creature; she lives to engage with other people. And now she's avoiding doing just that. Boss feels that she's even pulling away from him a lot. And we know that the problem is that she's still grieving over Bear. And as you might expect, since she's had one of her Daddy-figures pulled away from her unexpectedly, she's pulling away from her other Daddy-figure, afraid that she'll lose him too. I don't know what to do for her. Gracelyn has suggested that perhaps getting her time with someone other than Boss, someone she cares about, might reassure her that there are more of 'her' people out there. I don't know; and there's only a few people that I can let go and trust to be good with her.

And when one kid gets messed up, the other does too, apparently. Paul came out last night, and he was eight, and he's been 'reset' somehow. He's always had access to memories of other members of the system, like reviewing the video tapes. But watching a video and being present aren't the same. So he had his memories, and the videos of ours. Suddenly, all of his memories have transferred over to video files, he doesn't have any active memories of his own. So last night it was like he was out for the first time. He knew Boss, but didn't have the emotional connection to him. He knew where everything in our room is, but didn't connect with it as his room. And he was terrified that Boss was going to want from him the same closeness they've had before - and he wasn't ready for that. However, Boss just reassured him that he was safe and could relax, and eventually he did. I woke up a few times with him still out, and then Kiara was dreaming - about doughnuts, of all things. And this morning, the sun is brighter, and things are okay.

Weekend Blues [Me]

This weekend was pretty icky. Stress in the household seems to be contagious from one system to another. My metamour has been needing some major dental work for a long time now, and finally got it done recently. Well, because of that she's been on heavy antibiotics, which make her feel horrible. Worse, they mute the effect of her anti-seizure meds. And then added to that are some pretty strong pain meds for after the dental work. So she's drugged, feeling sick, recovering from surgery, and having seizures. Then her father died. So now she's depressed on top of all of that. Which means, yeah, she's having a horrible time of it lately. I feel so bad for her, and there's absolutely zilch I can do to make her feel better. I've basically tried to stay out of her way and not cause her extra stress. Oh, and I brought her cupcakes and doughnuts. Soft foods that she loves.

So she's feeling terrible, and Boss is really sensitive to picking up emotions and soaking them up like a sponge. Which is great when folks around him are doing well - he gets an instant pick-me-up for free! And it means he is very sensitive to recognize when something is wrong and try to help fix it. But when it's not fixable, it just weighs on him, heavier and heavier. There's also work stress, of course, but mostly he's worried about her and feels helpless to do anything. Which really tarnishes his White Knight helmet. So he's crabby and mopey. And since he's trying so hard not to be crabby and mopey with her, some of it leaks out with me. So he's been pretty authoritarian and a bit snappish. I understand why he is, and I try to let it wash over, but I still get some hurt feelings over it.

Which means now I'm all grouchy and pouty. And the three of us are there together trying not to offend one another and still get our needs met without interfering with anyone else. It's tough. And it's no one's fault; we just have to get through this time. I'm trying not to be needy and demanding of Boss's attention, because he's worn out trying to attend to the Metamour. She's just trying to get through the day without losing it, and he's trying to take care of both of us and his work. Yes, our apartment is now carpeted with metaphysical eggshells.

So, this weekend. Friday night there was a private party at the club, and I decided not to go. So I was pretty much at home. Now, I'm not a stay-at-home kind of person. Too much time at home and I get antsy. Especially when it's dark and we have to be quiet, because we're trying to let the Metamour sleep as much as possible to get through the drugs and healing. And the animals have picked up on the stress and are acting out, so it's kind of not smelling so good lately - and that means my allergies are making me crabby too. So I'm home on Friday, and it's fine. Saturday, I somehow didn't make any plans, so we slept in.

I got 'done' sleeping long before Boss did, and got on the computer. Kiara ended up watching Glee, a show that she just loves. However, this was the big break-up episode, which ends with all the relationships on the rocks and everyone unhappy. Kiara still hasn't really processed the whole breaking-up with Bear thing. So she got all uneasy and sad, so she went and woke up her Issi to make her feel better. She ended up nestled in his arms, just crying softly. And he didn't have the energy to deal with that at the time, so it never really felt 'done'. Okay, no biggie, we'll deal with it. Someone else came out at some point, and we got up.

And then a friend got invited over for dinner. Boss wanted to cook dinner and clean up a bit - perfectly reasonable. But he didn't ask, he snapped orders about the cleaning up, and when we asked him for clarification, he bit off a 'because I'm the boss' kind of response instead of letting there be a discussion. So our feelings were hurt, and then he was upset because we were upset, and you know how that wheel turns, right? Everybody's upset and doesn't want to be, and there's no time to deal with it, so it waits.

But, it was Saturday night - time for the club! Now, I tend to count on going to the club and getting a good beating on one of the weekend nights each week, and I really need that regular stress relief. But this week, I had something planned that was going to push that till later; I was teaching a new person some of the basics. I recruited Boss to help me, and we actually had a really good teaching session. But as soon as it was over, he crashed. Crashed hard; like I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get him to the car and home. I went into full caretaker mode, and his mental merry-go-round spun pretty freely as I whisked him off home and to bed. Crisis handled. But no beating for me this weekend.

Sunday we still didn't have plans. And I'd been home for too long at this point. Between stress and needing a beating and arguments left unsettled and Kiara being upset and the apartment being dark & smelly... well, I was becoming a mess. I knew if I stayed at home all day, I was going to get really needy and demanding on the Boss's energy - energy he didn't have. So I exited. The truck needed cleaned out, so I headed out for the car wash. I was really fuzzy, and probably shouldn't have been driving, I'll admit in retrospect. And three of four hours later, I made it back home. I know what I did - I did the car wash thing, and a trip to Kmart, and ate lunch. Lunch helped a lot; I started clearing up after I ate. But I got fuzzy again by the time I got home.

When I got there, the screen was open, there were lights on, and cleaning was in progress. We set up fans to blow some fresh air through the house, and it was much more pleasant. After a while, I retreated to the bathtub for the evening, and then later asked to be tied up somewhat while I read in bed. Being tied up tends to center me and calm me down; I was hoping it would help. If not, my next resort was some cutting - Rubi has some new razors that she's looking forward to using. But I just didn't feel like having to deal with that. Luckily, the rope helped. When I woke up this morning, things are better. I'm back to my regular during-the-week schedule, and I'm planning on some play this weekend. I just have to get that far down the calendar.

Now the good thing is that, with the weekend being kind of stressful and unpleasant and fuzzy, I really can just barely remember as much as I've written here. Sometimes losing time is a good thing. The bad thing that goes with that is that I basically get two work-weeks in a row. Ugh. Looking forward to this weekend.

Writings by MultiMe [Me]

Okay, I took an old blog with some of my writings on it, and added some other stuff I've written. As I write more, I'll put them on there - Writings by MultiMe. Most of it's erotica. I'm probably going to put some taboo stuff on there at some point, so don't read it unless you are prepared for it.

Thinking About Writing [Me]

I don't seem to want to blog. It's not because there's nothing to talk about; there is. In part, I'm tired and not sure I can trust my writing to come out sounding like I mean it to. Also, sometimes when there are big things going on I put off blogging to avoid dealing with it. When I put it in writing, it's suddenly too real. But I don't think that's happening this time either. I just think, "Blog? Eh, maybe after some Pinterest..." And I never get back around to it. I'm being lazy about my writing.

Which is odd, because I've been thinking a lot about my writing lately (see, now I'm going again). I've written another erotic short, and I like the way it turned out. And I've got a few more in my head I'm thinking about working on, getting into some written form. But some of those might be a bit taboo, with characters underage (influenced by Paul's stuff), so I can't even post them on Fetlife. Or just might not want to.

-Hey readers, should I start another blog with my erotic pieces on it? Would you read it, too?-

And I'm about to start off another Star Trek writing game/simulation. While doing all this thinking about writing, I tapped on the Facebook Inbox of one of my ship-mates from before when I wrote Star Trek stuff. He and I did some really great co-writing, so I asked if he was doing any simming these days. And he was just starting to consider running another independent simulation, so he invited me to be his XO again. I dragged my feet for a week or so, getting around to looking the character back up and re-reading the stuff I wrote for her before, but now I'm getting excited about it, and looking forward to getting started on that writing. When I wrote Star Trek stuff before, it really served as a kind of therapy for me - I already wrote about that here. Maybe this time it will, as well.

So I've got a short list of some blogs I want to write - sometime - and there's plenty of current events to catch up on. Maybe this post will get me started.

Paul's Adventures [Me]

I asked Paul if he wants to write this post, since it's about him, but he declined. He's been getting stronger and stronger. I would say he's as fully-formed a person as Kiara is, at this point. He's a great boy. He's been learning to bootblack recently, and shows some promise of skill. He's created his own Fetlife account and starting to make his own friendships. He's voiced his opinion separate from the rest of us, and is beginning to have a 'voice' - a way his writing sounds and feels - that is unique to him. He's devoted to Boss as his lover and father figure both. But he's also learning to flirt and interact with other men, too.

We have one particular friend that he is becoming pretty fast friends with. This is the young man who is teaching him to bootblack. He's encouraged Paul to express himself as a boy, and they've talked a lot about things as simple and exciting as wearing a packer, or at least boys' underwear. Luckily, Boss is fond of the young man as well, so it looks like that set of relationships will flow well as it grows. I'm very excited to see where it goes.

Paul has started to really investigate where he is as a sexual person, as well, more in a solo sense than as a partner. He's quite visual, and much more interested in watching porn than we girls are. He does feel a phantom penis very strongly, and can masturbate it nearly as well as if it was corporeal. We've also experimented with a few different ways to overlap something real - a dildo or a strapon or something - with his phantom penis. All with a measure of success. I'm looking forward to purchasing a Reeldoe or something similar to see how that works for him (and if it doesn't, Sam wants to try it). We just bought a jockstrap for him to wear, and he was pretty pleased with that.

He's also getting very adept at sliding ages from eight to eleven to fourteen. At eight, he's more likely to be interested in playing with Legos or with the dog, and treats Boss as much more of a father figure. At fourteen he's much more sure of himself, and Boss is someone to be flirted with. There seems to be a barrier of some sort to get to seventeen, or to get younger, to five or even two. And it takes a lot of energy and purpose to cross the line.

We have crossed the line sometimes, however, usually toward the younger age. He's willing to do so, but it does make him pretty uneasy. When he's younger, he doesn't have much control over it, and really has trouble aging back up again. But I remember he had a lot of trouble switching out when he first showed up, so maybe it will get easier with practice. When he's five or two, we've taken to calling him 'Baby Paul' - more like Baby Paul is an alter within Paul - I think each of his ages could qualify as alters in a subsystem, really. Baby Paul isn't very verbal, especially at two. He's very solemn, and sucks his thumb (but not the same way Kiara sucks it, I've noticed). He can't really feel below my knees - after all, he has short little-boy legs. And he waits quietly for an ice cream when everything is finished.

When he's out, or has just been out, we also have visual memories that are very specific. We can see a large four-poster bed with shelves on the headboard and a light, of a very dark color wood. The matching dresser sits where my dresser does - a pretty massive thing. My bookshelves don't fit in this visual - there are no books in Baby Paul's world. The carpet is a dark brown, matted in places with what looks to me like animal stains. There are shoe boxes under the bed. Now, none of these things are true in my/our real world. I don't know where the memories are from. But they are very strong.

Stephanie - Temporary [Me]

See that delay? That's me having too much to write about and not sure what to do with it. Hey, this next bit is a little on the dark side, might justify a trigger warning.

Did you know that we could have a temporary alter? Neither did we, until one showed up. There's this girl... her purpose seems to be being afraid of Boss when we play. She can't be disobedient, and she doesn't enjoy playing, but she needs it. She's said that she is temporary, not part of the rest of the system. She didn't even have a name. Boss named her September (which I like), then changed it to Stephanie (which I don't). I don't know why we don't like the name Stephanie, but she seems relieved that it's a name we don't like. I can see her in my mind. She's young, maybe mid to late teens? Has stringy dark hair and brown eyes with huge bags under them - or is that a black eye? She's got cuts and bruises all over her of various ages - I can't tell if any are self-inflicted, but she stands in that pose that screams 'abused', one arm awkwardly holding the other elbow as that hand dangles, feet bare and akimbo, hunched over waiting for that next blow. Flinching from it before it happens.

Her arrival has brought up the subject of fear, and love. You can't have both in the same place. I let him - ask him - to do some pretty awful things to me when we play. But I trust him not to harm me, to be more careful of me than I am of myself. He loves me, and would never intentionally do something that he actually thought would be harmful to me.  And that leaves a hole for me, because I understand that, and because of it, I trust him. I know that he'll pull that last bit of his blow, and that means I'm not afraid of it, not really. And sometimes, I need to be afraid. I was afraid - physically afraid - of Bear, because he's just a giant of a man, and though I trusted him, we didn't have that romantic chivalric love between us that would keep me from being afraid of him. My body and my animal mind believed that if he wanted to, he could maim or kill me and nothing I could do about it, even though my rational adult mind says I'm safe enough. With Boss, an earnest 'please' will stop things. I can't be fully afraid of him.

Seems like a good thing, right? Who wants to be afraid of someone you love? Turns out, I do. We do. I occasionally need to be less-than-completely sure that I'll make it through the night okay. We need to cry and beg and get 'No' for an answer. That's what I was getting from Bear. And now I am not. So I think Stephanie has turned up to fill that need. She's not in love with Boss. She's terrified of him. So terrified that she can't be anything but completely obedient to him. Some of that fear-obedience is similar to Cherish's. But whereas Cherish is completely obedient, she also loves Boss with something beyond love. She worships him. And thus, she trusts him. Or rather, she has the attitude that if he wishes to do harm to our body, that's his right, and though she might beg and plead, she would never think that he should stop unless he wants to. If he told her he was going to cut off her leg, she'd cry, but she'd stand still while he tied her down for it. For Stephanie, she'd be too afraid to move while he tied her down for it. Same effect, different meaning.

Gracelyn and Boss seem to think that perhaps Stephanie is here to gain a little strength and then be merged into Cherish. Or she might stick around as long as she's needed and then fade away. In part, I hope it happens quickly. But I also understand why I need her.