#sisterslave

Hello 👋 my name is meat and I'm a sister slave to this blog's author. This section was graciously lent to me so I could have a place to write my story. Gratitude! 🌼

If I could start at the beginning, I'd have to recount millennia. Ownership is beyond the bounds of time and if it had a beginning it would have been lifetimes ago.

So let's just jump in somewhere in the middle. How about now? I haven't seen Owner in years and haven't heard one word from Him since August 2021. 

What?? 

I can hear you! You ask me, meat, wake up! How can you consider yourself His slave? What are you holding on to for so long? How do you slave, serve, suffer, get reborn when He never lays a hand nor eye upon you, never ever speaks?

It does seem delusional. I admit I question my sanity at times.

I remember He spoke these words, it might have been the first day we met when He claimed me as His slave, or maybe it was the last time I saw Him in the flesh, but His words I will never forget. He told me, I was Owned slave property, His, whether He ever saw me or spoke to me (or not). He told me the day may come where He never speaks to me or sees me, and still I would be His slave. 

It came to pass. He never sees me, never speaks to me, and honestly, I'm more devoted than ever to Him. 

~meat

Someone asked me why I work so much. It isn't for the money, although that is a boon. I work because I need discipline and structure. I work because I need to serve my patients. In the absence of an active and engaged Owner, I have to look elsewhere for opportunities for service and subjugation, and I have to structure my own life, and exercise discipline in other ways. I am a slave and need to BE a slave.

When I am at work, I tend to my patients as if I am caring for my Master. This is the intention I have while I work. It is my foremost thought. When I administer medication and bring water to the lips of an infirm person, I am doing this as a joyful and loving act of service. The elderly person is not my Owner, yet I do this as if they were.

I have a habit of saying, "Thank you!" as I leave my patient's room. I've had patients ask me why I thank them and they have said they should be thanking me. I thank each patient for the precious opportunity to serve them. They have no idea how invaluable it is to be able to serve.

That is why I work so much. I need to. Not for the money, but for the ability to be a slave in service to another. They say a nurse is an altruistic person, but that's not true of me. I'm not selfless in my service. I absolutely get something out of it that I need. I get a sense of purpose, I am fulfilled. I feel satisfaction and accomplishment. I feel content. Work is my happy place when there are no feet to fall to at home.

I am the firstborn child to my parents. My dad is a Brazilian Baptist preacher and my mom always wanted to be a preacher's wife. Her grandmother was a preacher's wife, her grandfather was a preacher. My mom and dad were missionaries in Puerto Rico when they met.

My earliest memories involve church. I used to play church! My mom and dad would lie in bed with their knees bent and I would stand at their knees, my pulpit, and preach to my mom and dad and lead them in singing hymns.

Evangelicals like to call the crowd to salvation at the end of every church meeting. Come and be saved! Raise your hand if you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior! I raised my little hand each and every Sunday. I prayed my blessed little heart out to God without ceasing.

I grew up in what appeared to be from the outside, a very loving, Christian home. But there was a lot of violence around me. My dad physically abused my mom. There was a lot of yelling and crying and screaming. There was anger and there was a lot of hurt.

When my mom left my dad and took us, her three kids, from Brazil back to Chicago, the hurting didn't stop. It wasn't my dad anymore, but now my mom, in her confusion and disillusionment, she didn't know how to cope with lost dreams, heartache, and betrayal. She continued to perpetuate fear.

So you might think that this is the part where I say I rejected God because I couldn't reconcile how a Christian, much less a preacher, could cheat on his wife and beat on her?

But no, in my little girl's mind, I had it all figured out. All my mom had to do was listen! All she had to do was obey him. Why couldn't she just shut the fuck up? LOL. This didn't have anything to do with my dad this was all my mom's own fault.

I didn't reject God, I clung more closely to what I had learned. That I am safe in the Lord, no harm can come to me. That if I trust in him, I will be saved. That he is my protector. If I am obedient to God, one day he will pat me on the head and say well done my good and faithful servant. (I still choke up at this image, I love it so much!)

So all my life, not only did I believe that, I ached for it, I longed for it, every fiber in my being called out to God. I felt as if I had a hole in my soul, literally, a hole, which could only be filled by God.

I prayed to God and I sang to God. I worshiped God. I gave of myself and all I had, I gave back to God. It came from him, to me, so that I could give it back and magnify him. This filled me, yet no matter how full I was, there was still a space which remained empty.

And that space is what creates perpetual longing in me, a desire to be filled by God, a deep need to empty myself out to him, to be molded and shaped by him, to honor and worship and praise him, to surrender and to serve him.

This became my innermost longing, to serve, to honor, to obey, to surrender, to become less so that he could become more. And that longing is still in me, but many things fill that space now. God, yes. But also, people and nature and creation and beauty. I believe that God is in man, in everyone, in me and in you, in all that is seen and in all that is unseen. Knowing this, when I do something in loving devotional service to another person, I am doing it unto God.

That is where my innermost longing and deepest desire to surrender comes from. I know I am missing a lot of the story here. I don't know how I got from "serve God" to "serve you." I just recognize that I have a great need within myself to serve someone, to love someone so utterly completely that there is no more of me left, and to remember that I am nothing without him.

"Eat two raw eggs, shells and all.” Strange request. But I didn't question it. He controlled my waking, my sleeping, everything in between. He owned me from our first encounter. “I'll be over in one hour.”

One hour! I hurried to eat the eggs. The shells were crunchy and tasted like chalk. I finished it and licked my lips savoring the task. I jumped in the shower quickly. My legs were shaking as I shaved, nicking myself on my shin. I tried to steady myself as I watched rivulets of pink water wash down the drain. “He’ll be here any minute, calm down”, I thought to myself.

I ran my hand over my leg, fingering the scar on my inner thigh. It was a pink raised candle and flame shaped scar. I thought back to the night I was cut. He is a chef and was admiring my set of knives. Tracing the serrated edges with his fingertips and looking at me as if I was a piece of meat. He laid me back and pulled the edges of my black lace thong to the side and plugged the steak knife in my cunt, twisting and turning it, moving it in and out rhythmically with our synced breaths. He pulled the knife out and dragged it against my inner thigh, filleting me open to the fat.

I hopped out of the shower and furiously dried myself off, shaking off the memory. “No time for getting my cunt wet now. No time to blow dry my hair. Brushing it will suffice,” I supposed, worrying that I was cutting corners. My history with D/s was like that. I thought myself a submissive, all the while exerting control. “That has to change!” I pulled out the hairdryer and my round brush.

As I curled the ends of my hair, I thought back to one of our first meetings. “Down! On your hands and knees!” He circled me as I crouched there breathing heavily. I could hear his footsteps but my eyes were closed. I felt his breath on my back as he steadied my hips with his hands. I felt a searing pressure as he rammed something sharp in my asshole. I wouldn't know what it was until later that evening after he had left. It was my round brush.

I put the hairdryer and brush away, hiding his chosen implement of sodomy. On second thought, I'd leave it out. A small gesture, but I ached to show some semblance of progress towards obedience. He hadn't told me to leave it out, but he certainly would not be pleased to know I'd hidden it from him.

I rummaged through my underwear drawer looking for something similar to what he had me wear the night before. Lace demi-cup bra, G-string bikini panties, garter belt, and thigh high silk stockings. I sent him a selfie to gauge his approval. “Hideous chazzar.” I smiled. I'm on the right track. He used the word “chazzar,” Hebrew for pig, the pet name he'd given me.

“Buzzz!” The doorbell. He’s here! I dropped to my knees and scurried to the door to open it. He smiled approvingly. “You are on your knees, good dog,” he said as he brushed passed me. “Stand up. Make me a drink.”

I rose and went to the kitchen. I knew what he liked to drink most. Jameson. I opened the bottle and poured him a drink. It sloshed in the glass as I nervously handed it to him.

“Sit down. Let's talk,” he said as he sat down on the floor. I had no furniture. I crawled to where he was sitting and sat on my heels at his feet. He stared at me for what felt like eternity not saying anything. Then he ran his fingers through my hair. “You're trash, you know that?” “Yes, Sir,” I meekly replied. “But you are Mine. Are you my slave?” “Yes, Sir!” My eyes brimming with tears, I smiled up at him. His eyes softened and he continued petting my head.

“You have to give up everything, you know. Your family, your friends, all your possessions are mine.” I looked around the room at my meager belongings. I didn't have much, but all of it was his. “What do you value most? Is it this painting?” He grabbed the artwork and I was sure he would punch a hole through it but he set it down again. 

He paced the small apartment I lived in with just a pallet of blankets on the floor and a canvas dog cage I slept in. I had art and trinkets displayed but it was simple and sparse. He surveyed the contents of The Sty, the pigpen I lived in, and a torrent swelled in magnificent awe. Broken glass littered his dominion and in the eye of the perfect storm I remained calm and composed.

“Answer me. What do you value most.” I thought about it for a few seconds. “My mother’s cremated remains, Master.” “Go get them.”

I went to my bedroom and picked up the box that held my mother’s ashes and brought them to him. He opened the box and lifted the bag inside that held her gray and heavy cremated remains. He stood and carried them to the kitchen placing them on a counter. I followed him with my eyes. “How are you feeling?” I was apprehensive, but I didn’t tell him that. “Not so great, Master.” I had a nervous, queasy feeling in my stomach, and I had cramps.

He grabbed a spoon and walked back towards me. He opened the bag and spooned a heap of ashes onto the floor. I was emotionless, but my stomach was growling and churning. The eggs! Oh God, the eggs were revolting in my stomach. “Master, permission to use the bathroom, please?” “You may not.”

I groaned. He handed me the spoon and ashes. “Eat it.” Oh my God. Eat my mother's ashes? I slowly dipped the spoon in the ashes and raised the heap towards my mouth. I closed my eyes and put the spoonful of cremated remains in my mouth. It was crunchy and chalky like the egg shells. I swallowed and looked up at him.

“Please, Master! May I use the bathroom? I really have to poo!” He smiled and said, “So poo.” I got up to run to the bathroom but he stood in my way. “Right here.” Oh God. He planned this. He knew what would happen if I ate raw eggs.

I sensed he was testing me. I had to obey. I pulled down my panties, squatted on the floor, and emptied my bowels of the foul, sulfuric contents. I smiled, feeling proud, yet burned with shame. He looked at me in utter disgust. “Disgusting pig. Roll in it.”

I sat down in my own filth, glass, powder ashes, and started to smear the excrement on my thighs and stomach, breasts and face. I rolled around like a pig in slop. I was doing it for him and I never felt more accomplished.

I looked up at him and he sneered at me with a look of vile and disgust. He bent down and picked up a piece of shit and rolled it between his fingers. “Swallow it.”

I took it from his hand and put it on my tongue. I heaved. Swallow the pill, swallow the pill, I said to myself.

“This is me, and you, and everything you know.” And I gulped it down.

As a child, it dreamed of insignificance. It would stare at a piece of dust on the ground and willed itself to be that small and not noticed by anyone else but the one observer in that moment. It felt that if it could make itself as tiny as a speck of dirt then it would be prized when found. It would be treasured. It would be special in that only it and the finder would know of its existence.

It remembers having this daydream while being whipped by its father wielding his belt. It was ordered to stand facing a table with its hands on the flat top surface. It was naked and its young flesh was exposed to the leather strap again and again. Its stinging eyes were fixed on the crevices between the adjoining slats of wood that constructed the table. In these crevices were crumbs of bread left there after breakfast. It stared at one crumb. All its focus was on this one crumb. As its father's blows struck one by one, it pained to be filled with the insignificance of that one breadcrumb.

My Owner, You are irreplaceable. There is no man, woman, or dog who could Own my soul as You do. I will be forever grateful and indebted to You for claiming me as Yours 9 years ago tomorrow. Master, on that day You spoke of Long Term Ownership and of building a Foundation with You. You told me I'd be Your slave whether You ever spoke to me, or saw me, or not. I believe there is no denying that You Own me and I'm Your slave. I cannot and will not ever challenge that fact.

Master, please allow me to speak freely. I'm in so much pain from wanting You in my life. In my real life. I want to feel You, in my body, in my spirit, in my soul. I want to build a Foundation with You, brick by brick, my blood as mortar. Master, teach me how this is possible with what we have now? I write You daily, every few hours, I pray and cry to You. I love to do this. It allows me to feel close to You. And yet more and more distanced when You do not reply.

Owner, I need in person service. Please allow me to come to You. Even if for just one day. I need to see You, to fall at Your feet, to cry real tears of every strong emotion only You can awaken within me. Please, Master, let me serve You in person. I need to feel something real. I'm getting lost in digital data points.

I am afraid to be asking for this because You may question my motivation, whether I want excitement or to touch the third rail.

Master, my motivation is fulfillment of my life purpose and pre-birth intention to serve and worship You, to be Your slave as I have been countless lifetimes before. Please, Owner, find some way to see me, to use me, to let me be in communion with You.

This is my prayer to You, my Overlord. I hope there is mercy in Your heart to respond in some way and let me know what life I can expect for the next 9 years as Your slave and property. To listen to You expound on the direction of my life as Your slave would bring me such joy and peace. Describe what it is You believe we have now and illuminate my path into the future as Your child, please. I need and want this conversation with You like I have never needed or wanted anything before. It feels like I'm asking You for the air I breathe. And I am.

Meat.

"HOW MAY I SERVE YOU?", slave asked. He answered.

Life is murky, life is cloudy. That is the inherent quality in life that makes it both maddening and beautiful. Sometimes we can`t see the end of the road, sometimes we can`t even see our feet. At times we stride, filled with purpose and vision and at times we shuffle along, not aware if we are moving forward or backwards, never knowing where our next foot will land or what beings will be awakened by our footfalls. Life is filled with moments of happiness, love, pleasure, pain, stress, peace, clarity and blindness. Some of us are blessed to carry a torch, some of us are blessed to follow the ones who carry torches brighter than ours. Yet the wind that whips through the corridors of life, flagellates us all while sucking the breath from our torches. As the fire flickers, pulses, dies and reignites, shadows splay out against the rock in the corridor of life creating shadow puppets that dance, taunt, inspire and terrify us all. 

Not only are we charged with choosing which Carrier of the Torch to follow, we must ascertain if the Carrier knows how to interpret the shapes, the shadows, the sounds, the cacophonous symphony that clogs the corridor of life.

I empathize and understand the nature of what and who we are. The stress and tensions that pull at us are unlike anything that most have to contend with. They exist as a byproduct of who and what we are. They exist regardless of being owned or owning. We are pulled creatures that are very in touch with our fibers as they are stretched, twisted, melted and reborn daily. We have endless internal conversations and debates. We are always are on the wrong side, struggling to find that peace that never seems to come. We find moments and pockets of clarity only to realize it was a mirage. It has always been that way and it shall always be that way. Your propensity for wanting love, only to shove it away, from wanting ownership to shoving it away, from wanting to hear from me promptly to barely hearing from me at all, these are not relevant in and of themselves any more than the fact that your nose has boogers coming out of it when you have Pneumonia or the fact that your calf muscles stretches as you have an orgasm. These are all simply reactions to a core component, a core effect.

We don’t think as others do. We don’t react to life the way others do. We form some semblance of a normal exterior so that we can operate but our full form is rarely if ever, on display. Texts like “why can`t this be simple? Master and slave, no other influences or responsibilities outside of those that grow between me and you”, demonstrate that we BOTH scream for that purity, that crystal and rarified air that only seems to come in moments. It is a beautiful thought and a beautiful goal and one I always dream about. Knowing life, nothing is ever as pure, as simple as a thought and you and I are both such beautiful, unique, stylized creatures, that we revel in thought, in ideals, in perfection much more than most. In fact, it causes us great pain. We see and know things we would rather not know and see. Some of those like us, blunt our our teeth, so we can`t taste the imperfections, cut off our hands so we can`t lament how the world feels, poke out our eyes so we can`t see our own reflections or the world as reflected back through us. Some of us that are so connected, don`t survive. Some of us, are stubbornly optimistic and refuse to interpret these signals in a negative context. We demand a smile even when we are sad! Yes, there are reasons why smiling when you are sad is good, for YOU. It`s truest purpose, is for others. Just because you smile, doesn’t mean you are happy or content or at peace, it demonstrates a wish, a blessing of happiness, contentment, success and peace upon OTHERS, Our purpose is to serve others. Whether we are Dom or sub, Master or slave, husband or wife, mother and child, we all serve. When Phil is annoying you, pissing you off, being ridiculous and unreasonable, remember that your obedience, your smile, your pacificity is not a demonstration of your lack of strength, it is the exact opposite. It is knowing the consequences of your confrontational reaction and offering a blessing to your god, doing a Mitzvah and blessing Phil and your household with love and peace. For him, your child and you shall benefit immeasurably from it.

Were I to say that you were no longer owned by me, it would be a lie. I don`t have the power to break that bond we both entered into. Not that I don`t have that strength, I literally don`t have that power. Once you declared yourself as my property and I, your owner, that choice was made just as surely as a child cannot declare that his birth mother is no longer it`s mother. It is not a breakable bond.

Now the question is how do we maneuver in general, how do we walk, what path, how do we interpret the shadows.

Sleeper cell slave is an option and while I I have been enduring, is not ideal for me and my needs. I want time, you, on your knees, gazing at me, us talking, playing, connecting, you cleaning for me, me impaling you on my spear of intellectualistic wit;-) Listening and playing music, dates out on the town, debaucherous activities that only we understand;-) I have on purpose backed off on my actual physical and time demands to a great extent over the past few months. You really wanted to explore a real relationship with Phil and I have allowed it and made it easy for you by acquiescing to many requests and not making it difficult or being too demanding. This is my path as an Owner. I suffer the consequences for it. I think of you often, I pine, I get sad and depressed that the slave I wanted to develop in a particular way, is exploring another path and while I am extremely happy for her, I miss her, miss her service. Then I think about you and I smile. I think about all you have learned, how much you have grown, the fact that I am now confident you will be a great mom is HUGE!! The fact that your relationship with Phil is strong and good! These things feed me, fill me with such immense pleasure and gratitude for having the opportunity to guide, to influence, to teach, to be there, a solid, ROCK solid foundation. Never wavering, never cracking, always building, getting better and stronger, supporting, facilitating YOU, to find you, to know you, to be so intraconnected that you understand and see your own cracks for what they are, symbols of strength!

Even if I never saw you, I would never waver. I would never crack, I would always be there, available, open, real, honest and oh yes, your Owner.

You have mentioned a supportive relationship where both Phil and I could have control over you. I am happy to support that path as you know. That is IDEAL for me. It is ideal for you and it supports and helps blossom, something you really want, a relationship with Phil. Regardless of if you had ever met me, the disconnection Phil feels with the concept of ownership as WE see it (I am concerned he will learn enough about BDSM to be dangerous and he won`t see it as WE see it and that can only be solved with frank and open discussion with you NOT folding about your true beliefs) is something that will always haunt your relationship. My ideal situation is if Phil would just get to know me, and the three of us would develop into great friends, all of us involved and actively engaged in your growth and progress. 

Life takes time and I need you to top forgetting me. It makes so much more work for me and you KNOW I am lazy;-) It also hurts you!! I have ALWAYS encouraged communications. If I say something that causes a negative reaction, COMMUNICATE. Give yourself a break and stop torturing yourself. Though I know how much you love to do that! Stop, stop, STOP!!!!! It`s the same thing you do to Phil but to him you do it often and in person! Stop, breath, communicate! You getting pregnant necessitated that I take a step back and let you guys deal with that first, see how the whole think shook out and then I, as your OWNER (and also your friend;-) come in after seeing it for what it is in the whole and begin my slow, unappreciated (sigh;-) work of loving, caring, guiding, molding my slave so she can be the best she can be!

It hurts me to no end that while I stand by Phil, supporting him, helping him and his relationship, he is actively engaged in corroding mine. Yet, even that, will not cause me to strike out, to work or manipulate to his detriment. I stand above you my slave, poised for the future, feet firmly planted on the ground, holding my torch high so that you may see, lifting your legs as they get weary, exploring the shadows, reveling in your fascination with how they dance, moving my torch to create new and unique shadows, as we pass along the murky ground, creating our own path. We bring along those we choose, we cast aside those we choose, we dance with those we choose, our choice has been made and I am forever grateful for that! I finally have found a partner, someone with whom I share things I would not share with anyone else. Someone who has insight and knowledge about me that no one else can possibly ever hope to understand. More so than any marriage, it is a soul mate. I knew you the minute I met you, the rest, is details.

On August 21, it will be a year since I've read a new word from Owner. I've read all His words of communication many times over the last almost ten years. I've exported and saved most texts and have every email I've received saved. I wish I could have recorded every time I was physically in His presence. With hearing those rabbinifications, I should have scribed a thousand sacred books.

Sometimes I think of a random word and do a word search for it among the saved words and read the exchange that contains it. It takes me back to days we bantered with playfulness. Or it takes me back to nights I've prayed in reverence and fear of loss. The ups and downs, I feel them through reading the words spoken at the time. Rereading words resurrects the reality of the moments shared.

There was a time when this was real. That I do not doubt. But how long into the future do those words sustain my belief in Truth? Because that's all I have, written words, memories of words spoken and sung. He took Himself physically away from me, He took His new words away from me. What binds me as His slave now? Nothing physical, no ropes or chains. Not even a word whispered in my ear.

All I have to cleave to is a belief, a knowing, of the Truth of Ownership and slavery. I am His slave and property, whether I see Him or hear from Him, or not. What He chooses to do with His stuff is His business. 

Where does that leave me? Owned. A slave. To a distant, disengaged and not active with me Master, seems so. What do I do with this? I stay firm in the knowledge, not just the knowing, but the internalized feeling, too, it's head and heart and soul, that I am Owned. The rest, as He has said is details.

I asked Him if I begged Him to send me into exile, would He give me that relief. He said no problem, and to take care of myself and my child. It is ten years and one day since he first texted me. It is ten years minus six days since He's Owned me. I responded by asking Him to tell me in no uncertain terms what He means to say so that I don't wonder and wander another ten years. He hasn't replied.

I deleted my FetLife account and am in the process of organizing my digital life to delete my email accounts and might get a new phone number. In the meantime I've blocked all the people with whom I have sexually charged conversations. It's time to take it to another level.

It's funny, in my attempt to push my Owner away, yet again, I'm only getting closer to fulfilling The List He gave me a bit over a year ago.

On August 21, 2021 he said, "I woulod love to see some actual, real, ongoing growth.
Possible avenues for Growth:
1. Physical health/ fat
2. Higher standards for sexual interactions
3. Set money aside for owner
4. Progress in relationshhip with phil
5. Self bondage
6. Self pain
7. Porn creation
8. Becoming chaste
9. Removing energy and time from BDSM
10. Creating this fucking list lol"

Like my sister slave, I am also working hard on #1 and have lost 11.9 pounds since August 25, 2022. This move away from FetLife, sex, and kink with the deletion of my FetLife account, deleting email accounts, and blocking numbers/getting new phone number, goes further towards fulfilling 2, 8, and 9.

Number 4 is something I do daily and have been for years. Our relationship is comfortable and happy at home.

Number 3 is really hard since I'm a degenerate gambler and lose all His money when I get anything together. My goal is $7,000 minimum in a savings account. A figure He gave me once.

Number 5, 6, 7 I'm going to need some time for healing myself first, if that's ok. I don't have the energy to dedicate to those things now and feels too raw at the moment.

He hasn't released me in no uncertain terms. He has said previously He physically doesn't have that power. This is what I believe about Ownership as well. But I really can't deal with harsh and disapproving treatment right now. So I'm choosing to serve in private without seeking His approval or any input from Him. 

I said goodbye to my last kink friend today and blocked all numbers except for my sister slave. I kept three friends to chat with that aren't sexual even though we met through FetLife. They are part of my support network. I also made an appointment for Monday for an intake assessment for a state funded TAP counseling program for addiction gambling. 

Work life is in transition. I got a new job working with people recovering from eating disorders. It's an hour away from home. Lots of time to enjoy solitude and listen to audiobooks. I'm making my way through Facing Co-dependence by Pia Mellody now. I'm trying not to be overwhelmed by the magnitude of healing that I am called to do for myself while also assisting in the recovery of my patients. 

Through diet and prescription medications, I have lost over 21 pounds since August 25. The weight loss is slowing down dramatically this last month. I'd like to incorporate walking as exercise to speed things along. And exercise has helped my mood and motivation, sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, too, as additional benefits. 

I am in counseling treatment for a gambling addiction. I have gone almost three weeks without gambling now. I meet with my therapist online weekly. This is about as long as I have gone without gambling since it became a problem for me late 2019. Coincidentally, or maybe not, I started a medication at that time that has been associated with the development of gambling addictions in patients taking this medicine. Just in case that contributed to my problem, I've switched meds. I've had to adjust to this new medication since I have to take it with 500 calories of food, twice a day. That's almost my whole days worth of calories for breakfast and dinner. I've adjusted well so far. I see my psychiatrist again in a few weeks to check in on how the new medication is working for me. 

In terms of money, I have no money. The last time I went to the casino I really blew it and have been recovering from that for three weeks. I have to be extra vigilant around mid-month, as that's when I seem to have "extra" and all bills are paid through month end. I intend to deposit 10% of what's minimally required by Owner in a savings account on the 15th. If I could do this monthly, I'd have the minimum saved in 10 months.

I'd like to delete two email addresses I have and don't use much. One is as old as Google and has so much history saved in there. The other is newer but also has emails I like to read through every so often. This is an area of attachment I'd like to release eventually. I'm not ready to just yet. 

I'm pretty much out of the kink scene or whatever now. My fuck buddy/play partner moved out of state and we text but I don't see him regularly anymore. I blocked everyone else and deleted all kink related social media. I'm not going to munches or parties though work schedule conflicts has more to do with that than any choice of mine. I have three guy friends I met on FetLife that I chat with occasionally but it's not sexually charged. Some random person emailed me the other day wanting to play and I wanted to vomit. I literally felt sick to my stomach. I guess I'm vanilla now. 

Family life is comfortable as usual. I'm recognizing when I'm not behaving well towards my partner, snippy, etc. And working on doing less of that. We haven't been intimate in years but I don't feel like working on having a healthy sex life with him just yet. Not sure what I'm waiting for, but there's a block there that needs to be addressed. Maybe later.

I've not made any porn save a couple of hairy cunt pictures to show my fuck buddy. Haven't worked on self bondage or self pain. I feel I'm working on getting my traditional life in order before I go exploring BDSM related stuff again. I'll get there, eventually.

One thing I'm excited about, besides the new job, is that I have an appointment coming up with an Ayurvedic practitioner to work on an Autumn cleanse. Looking for help with constructing a diet and movement, supplements, etc. plan for healing in alignment with Ayurveda. It's such a deep interest of mine for years. I may even study Ayurveda as a healing art. It's on my ten year plan.