y

Ever since I wrote that previous post a few days ago, I've been testing how deep being little goes. My conclusion: extremely deep.

Despite stating otherwise and putting effort into not doing exactly that, it turns out I am treating this like a tumour to be removed, but I didn't realise until earlier today. Whenever I would do something childish, I'd stop myself. By the end of the second day, I was getting really frustrated at myself because no matter what happened, I wouldn't stop. I had pushed away all of my stuffed toys by this point.

By the end of the third day, I seemed to have stopped all the things that made me frustrated... but I missed them. It was like a part of me had died. This morning when I woke up, I noticed that all my stuffed toys were scattered all over my bed and far away from me.

Tonight, I started crying and hugging my dead elephant and apologising to her. I can't tell if this is a healthy thing done in an unhealthy way, or something unhealthy entirely. Either way, I have a lot of stuffed toys to apologise to and a new strategy to think of.

Better Living Through Chemistry pt4.5

Maybe I remembered wrong. No, the instructions are on the box.
Maybe I'm a week ahead of myself. No, I put it on my calander.
Maybe I dropped a tray of them. No, I'm always really careful.

I've almost run out of pills. How is this even possible? I thought doctors (especially this doctor) and chemists were always careful about this kind of thing. If I keep up the old amount per day, I've only got enough for 2 more days, and I see The Doctor on tuesday.

I'm so fucking frustrated about this. This wasn't even my fault. I thought The Universe wanted me on these things, but I'm getting so many mixed messages.

So I've halved the dosage to spread it out longer, and tried to get an earlier appointment with The Doctor, but he's full. I should just barely make it.

little ylatch Big Ylatch

I had issues growing up. Things that stunted my growth, mentally. I became too attached to my mother, and was wrapped in cotton wool for a long time.

I've known this for a long time, and I'm working through it with my psych. She figured that my independency level was about equal with a 14 year olds, which sounds about right. I almost have no experience as an adult... which is why I feel like ageplay is dangerous for me. It keeps me in that mindframe of a child, when I really need to grow up, and move on. It let me, and encouraged me, to stay in that place.

My stuffed toys are looking really worried at the moment, but they shouldn't be scared. They're not going anywhere. This isn't me feeling like I should cut out a tumour, even though that's how it started. I'm not going to throw out all the childhood things I love, and force myself to hate them. They're all a part of me. Being little is a part of me (just like being kinky, being a puppy, being submissive, being trans... I'm a lot of things) and I'm not giving it up. Just... putting it in its place, I guess.

The memories in a collar

I was cleaning up my room earlier today because it's been far too long, I could barely see the floor anymore. I like having a clean room, cleaning my room helps clear my mind, makes me feel like I've done something which is pretty rare for me nowadays. Then I look through this alcove under my TV to rearrange some DVDs and see all my old kink gear. Chains, pinwheels, cuffs, a paddle that hasn't been used yet.... and my old collar.

I have a lot of memories of this. I remember when we bought it, we looked for weeks to find just the right collar. I remember when it was common for me to wear it for days at a time, because I was out of my house and at hers. I remember sleeping in it for the first time, and her holding onto it, making sure I wasn't going anywhere, like I was some precious pet. I remember her taking me for walks on a leash in it. I remember bursting into tears one day when she had to leave, and went to take the collar off, because I loved feeling like I was hers.

When I found it before, I started crying. So many memories that this one piece of leather and metal bring back... but none of them sad. Every single memory I have of it, and wearing it, is a happy memory. I don't have anything else in my life that holds exclusively happy memories.

Better Living Through Chemistry pt4

It's been a week since I saw The Doctor, which means it's time to up my dosage. Two capsules a day, instead of one. Still not at a level, or amount of time, where I should feel anything though.

My mother still doesn't know. A combination of not wanting to have that conversation and her being unavailable. But she has to know soon.

Unless I feel something before then, this is going to be my last BLTC post until two weeks from now, which is when I should be getting upped to a dosage that has an effect.

Bottom heavy pt2

A few weeks ago I noticed the platform on my boots was coming off, so I stopped wearing them and vowed to get them repaired. And I kept that promise, even if I waited almost a month.

I felt so naked without them. I just wish I did this sooner, it was so easy. But I procrastinate a lot, which is one of the many things I'm trying to fix about myself.

Also, It's funny this happened now, because it's been almost a year since I first got them.

Trial by Fire: BLTC pt3

I went to The Doctor today, and got the results of my magical blood test. Everything looks to be clear, kidney and liver are functioning just fine, hormone levels are good and doing what they're meant to... and I also came home with a new box of pills.

I'm nervous. I've heard so many horror stories, seen so many friends slip away. I can't say that I know I'm doing the right thing, I'm more hoping, and trusting. The fact that this can be stopped at any time is also comforting. Large safety net.

I laid it all out for The Doctor. Not really understanding the process, how I feel like I'm stuck in a hole, what I thought was going to happen last time... everything. I even said how unsure I was about doing this, but if they really can help then I'll give it a try. Then it got really casual, and he told me a list of side-effects and things to look out for, and how to know if it's working or not, and how fast/slow it would be. I said those are all acceptible potentials for me, and I understood the risks, and how to handle them.

I walked out of his office with a script and a short-term plan. I've never had a short-term plan before. I've never had any plan before... not one I've liked, anyway.

The way home was terrible. I felt... sad and alone. For some reason I had it in my head that everyone around me just knew what I had done, that I'm some kind of fuck up who can't function. I even had a panic attack on the bus home.

Right now I'm just remembering that, ultimately, this was my choice to make. I'm doing this because it has the potential to help me. I can stop at any time. I know what I'm getting myself in for. Now all that's left is to do it and hope for the best.

Nothing fancy

No metaphors. No revelations. No sadness.

I just felt the need to document my first ever blood test where I didn't throw up, or get dizzy, or cry, or anything.

It was easy, for once.

Birth

I've been thinking about them, the Monsters, and how we have a strange relationship. I cling to them in false hope. If I listen to them, I'll be safe. If I listen to them, they end up being right, and stronger, which makes me more likely to listen to them again later. We already know this, this isn't news. But I've been thinking where they came from, and I thought about why I call them Monsters:

Dr Frankenstein created a monster.
A man is bitten by a monster and turned into another monster.
Something terrible happens to a man, and he turns into a monster.

Monsters aren't born. They're created. Grown. They come from somewhere. Dark places, light places, scary places, happy places. They're handed down. Passed on. Given to others. But they're organic, and happen naturally. Everyone has Monsters of some kind. I think I need to learn when I don't need to listen to them.

Wanting and doing

Sigh.

Tomorrow I'm going to a dentist to get a local anesthetic so I can get electrolysis done on my lip without excruciating pain (there's a nerve that runs under the nose on the lip that is very sensitive). I hate getting needles, which I think I've said before. But I realise this is the lesser of two evils, so I'm going to get this done. Last time I nearly threw up. I was scared, but I had someone with me to take care of me, so it was ok. Tomorrow it's looking like I'll have someone there again, which is good.

I also have to get a blood test for that other thing that's going on right now. I've been putting it off but I'm almost out of hormones so that kinda forced my hand. The appointment is for monday. Just the thought of this is putting me on edge. I haven't had a blood test done by myself in a long time...

Where I'm going with this, is that these are things I do not want to do, but they're in the way of things I want. So I'm gonna do it. I'm not going to enjoy them, not even a little bit. In fact I'm expecting one of them to make me feel terrible for the rest of the day. And yet, I'm still going.

I thought writing this would make me feel better about going. It's kinda made me feel worse. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.