Jan. 2nd, 2014

azuremew: (hee hee)
I was reminded by [livejournal.com profile] madnaivejello that I haven't updated in ages. It's not that I'm not here - there's plenty of stalkery, but what is there to say?

This afternoon, I picked up my Nikon, somehow managed my way into a corset that I haven't worn since Halloween at Stewart's as none other than Katarzyna De Vries, and took a photo of my chest for FetLife. It was for my profile as much as an update to show off my husband's Kinkmas gift for me, a onyx pendant with silver lettering that says "Raven's Little Kitten". It was a sweet gesture that tickles my breasts every day as a kind of, sort of day collar because of where I work. I love it, this whole BDSM thing. Most of the people we've met respect our relationship and rules. They've made me feel a little more beautiful and me. I've learned who I am besides a wife that does cherish her husband and an artist that needs to express herself.

Opening shift continues. I'm asleep by 6:00PM and awake around 3:00PM while he's asleep around 2:00-3:00AM and awake around 10:00AM. We're also on opposite days off due to me being an integral part of Monday routine and a requirement that manager's close at least once a week and mine choosing Tuesday. It's rough. I'm not going to lie. There are days when I've gone out for retail therapy and spent more than I should've and others when I cried, but I told my superiors at my last meeting that this is a good place for us because if we spent every waking hour not at work with each other WE WOULD KILL EACH OTHER. Seriously.

Work continues to believe that I am more than I am. It's an ongoing battle of anxiety and depression versus challenging myself. It doesn't help that my doctor and I have agreed to dropping my Cymbalta from 30 milligrams to 20 in an attempt to slowly end my need for medication to attain some ability to stand the general public.

On the plus side, I do have my writings. Besides the necklace, I received monies from Mom, and two packages. That's it. Four gifts, nothing more, and yet I feel so damn loved that I smile enough to make people at work wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. When they ask how I can be so happy that early in the morning, I'm half-tempted to tell them about how I spent hours watching Gossip Girl and writing porn. Or tell them that a few days ago my husband and Mraurau bit my ass so hard that there's a bump and bruise forming that reminds me of how much he loves and owns me whenever I sit the fuck down. Neither of these come out, of course. Instead, I just grin.

Other than that, there's the occasional kink parties and gatherings and a possible change in careers. I love to travel, and one offer was to be interviewed by JetBlue out of Boston or NYC via the [livejournal.com profile] jessicareloaded. Yes, it's a long commute, and Jeremy doesn't want to move, but I'm in the right mindset that after I get over the worst of it, I can not only survive but thrive.

January 2014

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