Well, I planted the grass, waited 14 days. It started coming in and here at twenty-two days my results are as follows:

The grass in the East didn't grow very well. This was the plain dirt with no additives. The grass did grow but is just ordinary.
The grass in the West did grow well but it seems I didn't plant it evenly. I have several patches of a nice rich green and then other places where it's sparse like the East side. However, the sparseness still has a richer color.
The grass in the center part, where I just threw it down and covered it light looks pretty much like the East side but with more weeds.
This is the surprise. In the middle, between the two rows and south for a few feet of the center spot, I have all kinds of grass growing. I put absolutely no seeds here. I am shocked, confused, amazed, perplexed and just blown away by Mother Earth. I think, really this is silly, it was the ants. The whole time watching the grass grow I had ants in there. They didn't go near the West lot with the aged horse manure soil but they were all over the East side. Maybe they replanted thinking us humans are retarded. Haha!

So that's my grass story. I'm about to add some more seed to a wider area. Jacki brought home some new seed that is supposed to be aggressive seed with little weeds. I have to set up my cage area to try the new grass. Hopefully this time I'll get an even coating so I don't have patches. But if I do have patches, maybe the agressive seed will take over where I failed.

In my attempt to find my written voice again I'm going to start by writing about my landscaping efforts. The other day I planted a foundation to build the front steps on. It's hard and mostly flat. Everything I wanted it to be. In a couple weeks I'll be able to use it to start mortaring my front steps in.

Today, however, was grass day. I dug up two rows of dirt and "quarantined" them off from the dogs. In one row I put in a wheelbarrow three-quarters full of dried up dirt & horse poop from the turnout. In the other row I just turned the soil. I put equal parts of old seed that Jacki had lying about. I'm curious to watch the grass grow and see which does better. I also have a small spot where I just put seed down and turned loose dirt over the top of it. No turning of soil or anything.

Pictures: Day 1

East Row (my pup's sillouette, ha)
West Row
Center Spot
Whole Thing

but I've known that for four months now. I keep trying to find a place to hide here but I don't fit into too many crevices. When I do have a hard time containing myself everyone walks on eggshells and that pisses me off more.

I don't know what to do. I guess I just wait it out. I wait out the next thing, and the next. I try to explain my feelings and emotions and I get nods and huh-huhs. I get nothing to help me heal. I get people saying they can't stand there but then they have twelve thousand things they want to talk about on the way out the fucking door.

I close my doors to protect them and I'm the bitch. I close the doors so they don't see how they're killing me and I'm the one in a bad mood. I'm stuck here every damn day and if I try to get away it's not fair that I'm going to do something without every member of the family and how they're missing out. Well what about me - what about my needs/wants/happiness? Can't I just go do something I want? Nope. Try and get 3 other people together to see even a damn movie just ONCE that ***I*** want to see and it won't happen. I've yet to see a movie at the theater that I super want to see. Hell even when I go alone somebody needs a new car, or a ride, or .... wtf.

I try ... I just can't. So what now. Continue to cry myself to sleep for the next 40 nights, 40 weeks, 40 years?

I'm tired of crying alone. I wish someone would listen to me and hear me. I wish I had words to explain how *I* am affected by my own damn life ... I wish I knew how to communicate. I wish I was better.

I wish I didn't think about the end so much. Not the end of this, I love this, but they don't see me anymore. They see a demon who's always bitching. They don't see how they've pushed me so far down, so far away that I can't be me and I can't do anything but bitch.

Leah doesn't talk to me anymore about her "stuff". She talks to M., she talks to S., T., D... anybody but me. I'm sure that's my fault too. Jacki doesn't have time for me because she's so wrapped up in either "Relaxing" or "working". Drew has been trying but for fuck's sake at least he's not an asshole teenager that most are. He's such a great kid but he's learning to show his personality and try to play with Leah and Jacki. He's trying to play with them on their terms but the minute he lets his guard down and plays with the same words they do they treat him like shit. If I speak up then I'm the fuckhead for protecting my son.

So I have comanche now. I have a horse that I can tell my woes to and he is a good listener. I'm glad we like each other. But you know what? It fucking sucks that I have to escape into a horse again. I thought that I would have someone to ride and it would be a different relationship than the one I needed as a teenager. Sadly. Not so much. It's the same fucking emotional void needing fed.

I don't know what to do. I know only what I can't do. I know I can continue to work. I know I can pay off a house that I live in one small room in because there's no room for me anywhere else that isn't getting pissed on, puked on, or runover by over by other people's stuff. My stuff sits in storage. No room for it except what is supposed to be a work office, not my office slash bedroom slash maybe a nursery but I can pretty much bet I don't want kids any more. I like the idea of kids but I can't bring kids into this fucked up mess. They don't need a mom who cries herself to sleep every night and wakes up every damn morning wondering what's gonna go wrong that day and who is going to drift further away.

I'm tired of wrong. I'm tired of being wrong. I'm tired of not being capable of anything joyful. I'm tired of being the misery. I'm just tired. I miss being happy.

I'd like to blame my diet for my mood but...
it's not true. Whether I'm on the diet or off of it I feel no affection from those I love. I feel they put up with me and want me to be the "girl" I was but the expect too much out of me day to day to be that girl. I can't keep cleaning up after them and enjoy it. I can't keep doing all their chores and feel like I'm helping instead of replacing them. I mean if you own a dog, a horse, a cat *YOU* take the effort to take them out before you go to work; you take the time to feed & care for them instead of just expecting your family to do it because that is what family is for; if you can't take care of the "X" animals you have now, don't get any fucking more. I don't feel valued or validated when I have decent ideas, inventions, paths, new beginnings and always be shot down and told no indirectly without suffering withdrawal from the very people that tell me no. I can't continue to feel sensitivity for them when they feel none for my wants & needs & fun activites. I can't keep being denied my sexual desires because someone is too sore, too sensitive, too tired, too not in the mood. Two... and less sex than I've ever had in my life including during my "abstinence" period because at least there I could jack off with penetration and lack of guilt. At least there the only one to turn me on then turn me away was me. Nope...my moods are not diet related.

I'd like to blame my diet for my inattention to work things but...
it's not true. I hate my job. I hate what I do. I thought changing testing platforms & projects would take care of that but nope... I still hate my job, I hate the politics and I hate people who think they are better than I am because they're in the office. The *only* reason I keep my job is because the pay is good and I can stay at "home" (to flare the first "but" even more!)

I'd like to blame my diet for my complete & constant exhaustion but...
It's my mood and the fact that I hate my job.

I'd like to blame anything on the lack of D/S in my life. I can only blame myself. I should have known. I should know by now that I can't "run a household" and be submissive. I can't be "in charge" and not be in charge. I fear two things. I fear if I step back they will think I don't do enough, that I'm not subservient enough, that I'm not willing to be the sub as agreed. If I don't step back then I'm in charge. I don't feel like anyone else is willing or able to step up and really take matters into perspective. Leah hates to clean, Leah doesn't really cook, she doesn't like to garden, she doesn't like so many things there's no way she's going to control the inside of the house because she just doesn't care. Jacki's never here and when she is she's either flat on her back/butt/or consumed by her email/horse pictures/whatever. If we don't spend our time sitting around on our fat asses with her on the weekend then we're not wanting to spend family time and always want to go do other things. She never wants to go do other things because she's too worn out from her work week and from her illnesses and from her body...cyclical narcotic.

I am at a loss on how to recover the 'lovey' part of this relationship; the "I'm your girl now use me and reward me" part of the relationship; etc. I'm at a loss on how to step back or forward. When I was stepping forward and pleasing them (and occassionally me) sexually they both were irritated that each other was having sex but not with each other. So. I stepped out of it. I even stepped out purposely of going out on "dates" with them. They went on two. And ... they still aren't having sex or showing anything more than a roomate existence. I'm told that their relationship is ok. I don't believe it. neither of them is satisfied with the distance of the other. how is that ok?

So... where does that leave me? Where do I go? Do I go? Do I want to go? I know this is where I want to be. I know this is where I belong. I just wish I knew that others wanted me here, and not because I can do chores, not because I can cook, or clean or whatever and when I don't do those things the d/s is gone because honestly the only time I feel like it exists is when I've busted my ass slaving away on accomplishing tasks for either of them.

Maybe it is my diet. Maybe it is the fact that I am believing in me again and don't have to prove myself to anyone but me and therefore I can say "fuck it, it's not my responsibility". Maybe that's why I fail. Maybe this, too, will fail. If it does, if really all we're meant to be is roomates, a part of me will die. It's so close to death, now, it can't even gasp.

Maybe it is my mood. Maybe it is the diet. Maybe it is hate for work. Maybe I am angry. Maybe I could just say fuck it and move on with a grasp on reality. Maybe I could just realize that I'm not wanted because I'm funny, or witty, or talented, or creative, or any of that shit... but only because I can accomplish other people's dreams for them.

How can I feel worthy when I don't believe others have any worth in me unless I'm a carpet housewife? Isn't that what I said I was? Maybe I just need to wait out the move... wait out Leah and Jacki getting their shit together. I had to move last (didn't have to but chose that over kicking out roomates) year and they didn't even offer to help (not even with their own stuff they managed to "leave" at my place) so why am fighting ten thousand leagues of guilt over not helping them? Why should I stress and worry? Why am I so bitter?

Yes. Fuck it. All.

Another month and I'm still losing weight. I did have a huge fuckup where for 2 weeks not only did I not lose but gained. I've learned that the low carb low calorie is totally the way for me to go to drop quickly. I'm in pants that I couldn't imagine even getting over my thighs & hips a month ago. It feels good. I can put my chaps on without difficulty but they still sit a little low. A couple weeks and they should fit better than they ever had.

Sometimes I think: GOD WHY CAN'T IT BE OVER YET? Then I realize it's only seriously been a month since I've been eating this way. And well, frankly, for 13 years I've been eating whatever way I wanted and just packing on the pounds. Even before I got pregnant I wasn't a small girl but was shapely and could be sexy.

I remember looking in the mirror when I was 22. I always had a small pooch in my lower abdomen but my upper abs were tight and strong. I was a size 18-20 then. My goal now is to be a size 12... ugh. It seems so far away! Yet, each week the scale is going down.

It feels really hard to be in constant flux of loving the way it's coming off and hating that it will take more than a month! I've read that when people are losing weight fast it's much like PMS. There are hormones stored in the fat cells so it makes sense to process through them.

Jacki and Leah are being amazing. They are getting that I need to do this and are carefully coping. Poor Jacki, I bit her head off the other day. Completely uncalled for. In turn she bit Leah's head off the next day and then Leah and I got into an emotial twist. I am having a hard time keeping them emotionally safe from my whims and tantrums but I know the answer is *not* stopping my weight loss. I know that if they can stay supportive and understanding we'll all be happier later. Later being subjective but I'm hoping for July when I return from SF.

Hopes for the next 13 days (we leave for Reno on the 4th):

• Lose 10 more pounds
• emotionally balance out
• Know that I don't need candy to survive
• Fight cravings more efficiently
• make better work choices

Date:	2007-01-31 21:31
Subject:	Ahas
Security:	Public
Mood:	hopeful
Music:	Into the Woods

I have the bestest smartest owner in the world. I have so many things to write, so many things to explain. I don't think I can do it one post but let me try.

We have had several conversations about my submission. They go on and on and I always feel torn between feeling like I should just shut up because what I have is what I signed up for and standing my ground that things are working. I walk away feeling like I'm not a good submissive, that I'm not a submissive, that I'm not even worthy of being owned.

The feelings are harsh. The feelings and thoughts tear me down. The rationality of my existence no more defined than prior to the conversation. We both end up drained. We both end up on opposite ends. She doesn't feel like a good top. She doesn't feel like a proper owner. I've led her to doubt her own abilities because of my insecurities.

The last conversation we had about this happened a few days ago. We again discussed the slave heart, the housewife, the service oriented individual, the bottom and the lover aspects of what we have. In one swift moment she said "a housewife is sort of a submissive." I guffawed and tried to understand but the moment was gone long before any real thought could go into such a statement.

In truth I had an issue with a housewife being a submissive. She is, after all, the rule of the home. She decides when the kids go where; she makes sure the kitchen is full of nutritious meals; she makes sure that laundry is done and vacuuming is complete; she assures the members of her family know their loved and taken care with each task she undertakes for them.

This is not submissive behavior. This can't be. But...however...wait, Housewives were oppressed. They did what Father said. They followed strict rules of proper behavior... what the hell? My brain halted. In the shower at the gym after a light workout my brain actually began to put everything together.

I've stated that when I'm in the kitchen or when I'm cleaning, though a minuscule amount comes from my submissive and service side mostly it comes from my desire to be the homemaker. Who in the hell was I kidding when I believed that they are separate?

All these things can be done from any space, dominant, servant, slave or submissive. Yes, submissive. Ok. So, my house chores could be from a very service oriented submissive state. What is that feeling, then? What's the motivation? What do I get out of it?

I thought other service oriented roles in life. The one that came to mind was Doctors Without Borders. What do they get by giving shots to nations that can't afford them. They're not exactly earning a living. They're not rewarded with experience in greater things. They're not given anything but the satisfaction that they've done something for folk that can't do for themselves.

Exactly.

Bingo.

Right on, mate.

I service my loves because they can't do what they do and have the bandwidth do what I do. It would break them. Jacki can't do it because she has no time. Leah can't do it because she doesn't have the experience to pull off some of the things I do. I was then reminded our experience in the kitchen the other day. It happens quite often. She will exclaim that there is nothing good in the house to eat and within thirty minutes I can produce a very palatable meal. She is always quite grateful. She always tells me I did wonderful.

After months of this I realized that I was doing her only a small service by providing such goodness 'magically'. Last week when she again exclaimed that the lack of food in the house for a decent meal was an abomination I listened. I thought of the million times (not really) we'd been through this. Instead of making a yummy treat appear I showed her how to cook a chicken breast. I showed her from freezer to plate. I showed her there was no magic. I added a thirty second zap of some instant stuffing. A week or so later she shared with me that she had used what I taught her when she was feeling needy and I wasn't around. I was very proud of her. I forgot to be proud of me. In fact, I didn't just forget, I took myself completely out of the equation except for the part where I admonished myself for not being there for her.

Pathetic. Was it the desire to be wanted/needed in a service space overruled by my own hand? Did I screw things up by providing my owner with a bit of independence? Fuck no.

So. Where does this lead me? Labels. Fucking tearing down labels boxing us in with no real definition. After all a garbage man has become a waste engineer... but he still collects my garbage and he's still a man. Yes, I know, some are women but that's not my point.

I'm not a slave. I know that. To define a slave, for me, in my perspective and no others, a slave has no choices. They have, traditionally defined, have no voice. BDSM has allowed the redefinition of such a person. The relationships that embrace the Master/slave that I know of are not without a voice from both sides. Desires and needs beyond the reality of what true slavery was about. In truth, slaves of several years ago had decisions made for them. It is true that most owners did not traditionally put their slaves in harm's way. They made decisions on their health. It did, after all, cost a lot of money to buy, train and trust a slave. The last thing you wanted to do was damage a working relationship. However, Masters then did not tend to care if a slave wanted to be in the kitchen or the field. I see it different in the BDSM relationship. The slave doesn't work in a slaughter house if they have issues with animal cruelty. The Master won't do that. A Master won't demand a tone deaf slave to seek a singing career. A Master won't demand a slave to a florist's job if the slave hates flowers. Well they might as a lesson but in general the BDSM Master will listen to the slave and will match their life's tasks with their likes, strengths and abilities.

So. Given that the label applies but in a general revision to the word slave is it not true that housewife could work the same way? Could I be a submissive housewife? Can I do what Daddy needs and not be oppressed? Can I provide education, skill and hope for my Owner and still have worth? Can I dust because having a cleaner house makes breathing easier for those I love and is there value in that without oppression? Of course, silly girl!

Leah was absolutely right. Though I claim that my housewife duties are not submissive because I follow the "I make things right my way most of the time especially in the cleaning, cooking, etc." doesn't mean I'm not submissive. Because I get to discuss what is best, what is right, what is keen and what seems to make sense with my housemates, my dominant and my owner, means that we have adjusted what the fifties housewife meant. I don't have to "obey" other wise I will be beaten and devalued. I will obey because hopefully I will be beaten and given great opportunity to provide myself growth.

Understanding that labels are labels and we make them what we need only left one thing to resolve. What do I get out of it? If I am a submissive housewife and get to define how that works then my definition includes reciprocation. No, not wifely things like sex, gifts, or other things that are decided for me. What I get is freedom to make up my mind what is good for me. What I get is support to do what I need to do for me. What I get is two women who believe in me completely and allow me my many little ways. They never hate me for alterations, growths, demoralizing behaviors or atrocious outbursts.

What I need out of my giving is value. I need to know that I'm worth to them as much effort as I've put forth. If I've scrubbed the floor then I need to know that they see it. And they do. If I've made a fabulous meal, or a crappy one, I need to know that they understand how much effort it was. I need it recognized. And they do. I need to know that if mommy needs a night away they will understand that I've not done the dishes because I just had to get out. I need to know that no matter what venture I want to undertake, whether my current one of losing weight or my coming one of more children, they will say "we love you, and support you, what can we do to help you?" And they do. Without hesitation I have a pep squad. Without hesitation I have an owner and a dominant who will say "I don't think that is the right decision" and we can have a conversation about it. How many housewives get that?

That leaves only one more question. How is this different from lovers, house mates, partners, mates? Shouldn't that unconditional 'love' come with all relationships? Isn't it part of it?

That's a tough question. A really tough one. The simple difference is there are times when my head will be so horribly stubborn that I won't quit. I will tear myself apart or drive myself into the ground doing what I believe to be right or not in direct contrast to their efforts and/or needs. The difference is they can stop me. Because I give from a submissive place they will come from a dominant place and tell me no. They will come from the owner stance and tell me that I must continue. And, I will obey. Loudly, maybe. With great protestation, maybe. But I will do it. Because that is my role. Because if I don't do it I will let them down.

I will have to work on the verbal & physical protestation, however.

So here I am. Redefining housewife. It feels good. I still know I don't have the slave heart. I do have the housewife soul. I am a mother. I am a caretaker. I am a giver of good things. I have owners who know the sensible limits and allow me to stretch them, to a point.

And, every now and then I get sex. Every now and then I get gifts. Every now and then I even get to be the pain slut I wish I were. And, every now and then I get to be reminded that I am worth much. I get to hear & feel that my value is beyond what they have without me. I get to know that I am needed, loved, wanted and cherished ... not because I do the dishes but because I choose to do the dishes for them so their lives are easier.

Date:	2007-01-31 11:32
Subject:	I go to the gym to...
Security:	Public
Mood:	moody

I went to the gym last night. No surprise there, I'm going pretty regular. What's different is the workout I did. My legs are a bit sore around the outside top of the knees but I'm sure they're just stressed a little. I worked 30 minutes on the elliptical. I always start with that. Then I went in did a ton of crunches. I worked my arms/back next then went back to the elliptical. I figured if I could get in another 15-20 minutes it would be good. Maybe I can get that fifteen in. If I can just push through.

I'm trying to get to the point where I start burning the fat. The theory is that after 45-60 minutes of cardio your muscles have burned through the carbs they've stored. Once that happens your body turns to the storage of fat, and I've got tons of storage, to fuel the brain mostly.

Then there's the theory of "don't eat carbs" thing. But if your muslces fuel themselves from carbs what do they fuel from? And if you rid your body of carbs does your brain no longer function because the glucose isn't there? The no carb thing is supposed to keey the water retention down as well... given they are carbohydrates. I don't necessarily buy that either.

Here's what I do believe. If I cut down the carbs I can cut the calories down. If I up the exercise I'm strengthening and using my heart & lungs. In the end this helps circulation. Good circulation allows for proper oxygen useage. All of these things add up. I believe that with the right fluid, the right oxygen, the right amount of carbs and the right amount of belief in myself I can lose the weight.

And I am.

Yes, I am.

My measurements in some places are down. It's hard to watch some go up and down but I like watching the ones that are going down to continue to go down. You know, those ones around the midsections.

In the process of throwing out there my humiliations... the weight ticker not being enough ... one of my goals is to go to Six Flags Magic Mountain with my son. He LOVES roller coasters - I love MM. A while back (5 years?) we went to Six Flags Marine World and I couldn't ride a roller coaster with him. Why? Because the bars wouldn't close. Seriously. I was so embarrassed. I've not ridden a carnival ride since. Not even the ferris wheel.

It's quite sad. This past Thanksgiving we went to the Christmas Land thing they put up near the Phoenix Raceway. I was pretty sick. I couldn't look at a ride without feeling naseuous. This was from a bug I had. Not from the anxiety of rides. I sit here typing and believe that maybe some of it was anxiety. I know for sure not all of it but it was quite a bit. We decided to make it an annual outting with our family. Next year I want to ride the rides with my son. If he still wants me to. He might not. He's getting so old now, he'll soon reject me. I'm saddened that I've wasted so many years avoiding playing with him. I've been a poor example.

I refuse to continue to be one.

Yes, I do.

So. I go to the gym to burn calories. I go to the gym to build muscles. I go to the gym to get out of the house. I go to the gym to do something for me. I go to the gym and do not question my worth. I go to the gym and work on making my dream come true. I go to the gym because day after day I can do more and more. I can work an extra sixty minutes instead of maybe fifteen to twenty.

Last night, I did. Ninety minutes of cardio. How sweet. I go to the gym to feel self accomplishment.

new weight, down 2 lbs.
seems so far away, seems like I'm busting my ass and I should be skinny already
seems like it doesn't want me as much as I want it, but its not true it will come.

officially I'm down a size and a half in a month. I'm fitting in pants I've not worn for awhile. I'm down another half inch but too many more to celebrate that! 2 more inches on the thighs and I can wear my chaps. *sigh* two inches to someone else would be the difference between moderate weight and anorexia... stupid head won't shut up.

so i'm winning, just too slowly.

the ticker is for stupidity, like I need to know how well I'm not doing.

I'm going to try harder tho.

Over the weekend the scale showed I put everything back on that I had lost.

could it be water?
maybe.... but damnit!

We went shopping. I looked like a miscontorted balloon animal in a very cute pink "schoolgirl" skirt. I didn't buy it. I settled for a green kinda army looking one. Leah thought I looked hot in both - wish I did. *sigh*

So, the ticker is here. I'm embarrassed but hoping that if I make it public enough the humiliation will help me do something about it.

*sigh*

I've forgotten why I ate that. I've forgotten why I gave in. I've forgotten why I listend to the voices; of others or of my own head. I've forgotten why I hid, why I slipped away, why I took just enough pills to make a statement or to check if I wanted to live, I don't quite remember. I remember I wanted, I don't remember why I wanted.

I'm having serious difficulties. Why does starting an excercise routine end up being so emotionally expensive? Is it finally taking care of me? Is it finally giving myself permission to come out and say "you can do it, I allow you, go on now"?

I don't know.

I really, really, don't know.

What I do know:

1. Leah has been amazing to listen to my emotional crap
2. Leah listening to stuff even before this has allowed me not to have to write it out in a journal
3. I work out hard because I want to
4. I am okay with not hiding anymore
5. I am ok with not knowing who I was hiding from in the first place
6. I'm ok knowing that if I fail, I've learned that my partners are supportive of me, not my body

Date:	2006-11-14 21:56
Subject:	Rubber, Reason and Remembrance
Security:	Public
Mood:	relieved
Music:	Celtic Christmas

Finally a title.
50k words to go.
14 less days than I had last year.

Date:	2006-10-17 10:50
Subject:	I'm still hurt
Security:	Public
Mood:	gloomy

i'm still hurting
and i don't know why
i'm still hurting
and i don't want to cry

i'm still hurting
and nothing feels right
i'm still hurting
and you're in there sleeping tight

i'm still hurting
i don't know what's wrong
i'm still hurting
i can't lead you on

i'm still hurting
being owned is so fucking hard
i'm still hurting
help me earn your reward

i'm still hurting
i can only give you this
i'm still hurting
can I have just one kiss

i'm still hurting
they're always there for you
i'm still hurting
my life feels so untrue

i'm still hurting
help me understand
i'm still hurting
i'm willing to beg

i'm still hurting
please help me end the tears
i'm still hurting
losing you is the biggest of my fears

i'm still hurting
i want the pain to end
i'm still hurting
i feel i'm losing my best friend

i'm still hurting
everything and everyone is dying
i'm still hurting
and i'm still crying