TMI Tuesday: June 14, 2016 [EXPLICIT/Audiomo]

Greetings & Salutations…It’s Another Cat’s Tales Podcast.

This podcast contains EXPLICIT material and is not suitable for those under the age of 18.

Welcome to another week, and another sexy TMI Tuesday!

1. Do you obsess over having an orgasm during partner sex? Are you disappointed if you do not orgasm?
2. Why are you into gay porn?
3. Why aren’t you into gay porn?
4. Do you use drugs to have or enhance sex? (Yes, alcohol is a drug).
5. Do you believe that you are much more sexually open-minded/risky/kinky than most of your previous partners and friends?

Bonus: Do you believe in ethical non-monogamy, even if it isn’t right for you? Why or Why not?

Background Music is “Use Me” by Bill Withers

Remission, Recovery or Cured

medium_330043763I have read a few blogs about BPD and a few people state that they no longer meet the criteria for being diagnosed with the disorder. I wonder, if a person is diagnosed with a mental illness, such a depression or BPD, PTSD, doesn’t that mean that person always has the illness? When there are no symptoms present isn’t that remission? If the person is showing some but not all the symptoms of the illness and working in a program to rid themselves of all the symptoms isn’t that recovery?

At what point to they completely stop their therapy? Wouldn’t they need to continue some sort of follow-up every six months or a year. Maybe have someone who can aid them when they feel close to relapsing. I just keep relating it to cancer or addiction. I remember hearing that some people stop taking their medication because they start to feel better and think they no longer need the medication. Then their life spirals out of control.

The BPD person needs to be aware of their possible triggers, so that they would not jeopardize their mental stability. There must be a lot of therapy sessions involved in order for a person to be aware of their triggers. I look back to when I went to get tested for ADHD and the psychiatrist said he thought I had some of the symptoms, but then when I went into weekly counseling sessions. The counselor kept asking me what was it about my spouse that made him different from all my other relationships. Because ppl like me, with BPD symptoms find it difficult to keep up long-lasting relationships. I just celebrated my 16th year being married to My Beloved. What makes him different from the other men?

I ask myself that a lot. Compared to the men before him, he is completing the opposite of what I was accustom to dating. He is older, wiser, more settled. Calm. Methodical. I think he is co-dependent. Just my opinion, a part of him allows me to do whatever I want. I’m spoiled. He allows certain behaviors, which the other men would have had major problems with. I don’t wanna say it’s that he lets me get away with whatever I want, but it’s how I feel. Sometimes it’s upsetting because he doesn’t put his foot down. I guess I want him to save me from myself (sometimes).

Then there is my job. I stayed at one government job for over 15 years. What was different about that job? LOL the money! No seriously, the counselor wanted me to really think about it. How was I able to keep this job for so long. Now my current job is going on 4 years now.  I read that some BPD people have difficulty maintaining employment.

I have never self harmed. I do take part in risky & reckless & impulsive behavior. Unstable self-image from time to time.

I understand there are some things that trigger me to wanna act out. Different times of the year, make me unstable-emotionally. Mostly, due to the Seasonal Affective Disorder. The only symptoms I have with SAD is social withdrawal (irl) weight gain and craving foods high carbohydrates. I know when it hits me and when it stops. So, do I take medication? Nah. I make sure that I get enough sleep, lots of exercise. Not to lose weight but to maintain and to get the good chemicals in the brain to get kick started. 

Maybe its the wording, I don’t suffer from BPD now, I’m in remission. I just wanna know what the process is that a person gets to the point with they can say “I no longer meet the criteria for BPD.”

photo credit: 5 O’ Clock Lab via photopin cc

Saying Good-Bye

I don’t know how I’m gonna tell you,

I can’t play with you no more. – “That’s the Way” Led Zeppelin

 

 

I talked with 43 today after our shift was finished. I needed to get a few things off my chest. He has always been by my side even after I verbally tore him to shreds.

I asked for his objective opinion about my opportunity for a different job. Let me fast forward to one of the last statements he made to me. “I know you’re leaving. I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face.”

I looked down at the gravel parking lot. “I’m gonna miss you.” He said with a mournful voice.

“just let me know if you do decide to go – ok?

you’ll be the first to know…i promise.

that would be nice-thank you..you won’t make up your mind until after the next interview? or is this a done deal?

No not a done deal. yet. i’ll decide after the next interview

YOU WILL BE MISSED

haha right

tue true true…just ask me and I’ll tell ya.

lol you & G won’t get any heart palpitations in the mornings with me not there anymore. We guys won’t have any one to watch & talk about the way their dressed.

Don’t forget I have pictures!”

READ MORE ABOUT 43

We went on to discuss our past mistakes. We went back to the part where we both went wrong in our friendship. Talked about our disappointments & expectations. However, I still think he isn’t as charming as he thinks he is. He said a few things that were just kind of dumb. I had to laugh. All I could think of is that he needed to kiss my ass, because he wanted to get in my pants. I didn’t want any thing more than friendship from him. He wanted me to be a part of his life, not the other way around. I explained that to him, “me being just in your presence should give you pleasure enough. Because I am – me.”

He said that I was arrogant. I replied with “and your point is?” I’m laughing while I’m talking to him.

There was something sad about our departure. The lose of a friendship. I know he wanted more, but he never give me anything. Yet he says “I hadn’t even turned on my charm.” I laughed loudly. I always need more, stimulate the mind first. I’m taken back to the first one who seduced intellectually. He is still a part of my memories, part of my heart. But #43 is just someone that I could made laugh, to help him ease the pain of his now boring, unexciting life. Me wanted to keep me as his “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” but I couldn’t stay. There was nothing in it for me, no rush of emotional high. Perhaps that’s why I looked for new job. Quickly found one, fearful of leaving, afraid of the unknown. Sad to leave him behind. He did mention “You will find someone to replace me, I’m sure.” I’m sure too. Then again, maybe not. Because this recent experience actually bought my behavior into my reality. Too close for comfort.

This weekend I have felt a bit blue. As if the mourning process as begun, I don’t even have the job. Yet, feeling as if I’m getting ready to say good-bye.

Border line

Sitting here I think back to when no one would talk to me at this work place. I mean they would but it wasn’t like I was part of the group just yet. Small town, I always felt like the outsider. 43 was the only one who began close, a work husband. Someone who I enjoyed hanging out with, though not sexually attracted to him. He is a bit too old for me to have sexually feelings for. I think to how I try to protect myself from the discomfort of letting go of someone I have gotten attached to. I let my guard down, I let him in. Now, it stings to think of the withdrawals.

Then again, maybe I give him too much credit in my life. Maybe I feel a thing, maybe not a strong as I think. My fear is when I do feel like this, I tend to look for ways to ease that pain & uncomfortable feelings. How so? By any means possible, that’s when I can get myself into a lot of trouble. Any thing from putting my job at risk, to my marriage to my safety. I have been good about keeping a lid on my risky, impulsive behavior.

One way that works sometimes is when I write-here, on this blog. I share my past sexual experiences, buzzed sexual experiences any other risky behavior. Reliving it here, has been so much more safer for me than ever before.

Left-handed

If you have read my “About Cat” page, you will have read that I am left-handed. I didn’t know I was different into I began to learn how to write. I attended private school in the early 70’s. Taught by the Franciscan Order – Nuns! Penguins! Old lady’s in habits with those witch type black shoes and giant rosary beads hanging from their belt.

I was sitting down at the table practicing my letters, when my father noticed something.

“Why is your left hand behind your back?”

I told him that’s how the Sister had told me to practice. He looked at my homework. Some of the letters I had written backwards. He started yelling. He went into the living room, yelling to his mother (my grandma) about how he was taking to me school in the morning because he was going to talk to the principal. He came back into the kitchen. “Stop writing & put your arm down. Now pick up the pencil.” I picked it up with my left hand. He smiled. “Feel better?” I smiled.

That was my first memory of being “different” or left-handed. My dad did go to my school and had a talk with the Sisters there. I never had to put my left arm behind my back again.

I remember writing was and still can at times difficult for me. Especially when writing in spiral or composition notebooks. And don’t even get me started on those erasable pens. Those were never meant for lefties to use. I ended up wearing most of the ink on the side of my hand.

I do not write like most lefties. I hold my pen the “correct” way as right handers do. My handwriting can slight in all three directions. I can’t hold my pen and turn my wrist inwards. That hurts. I hated those left handed scissors. UGH. I would turn them upside down and try to cut with them that way. I remember there were even notebooks with the spiral on the opposite side, just for lefties.

I only use my left hand to write, drive and eat with. However there are times I can use my right hand to eat with. And I will say something to my family like “Something doesn’t feel right.” And my kids would be the first to notice that I was using the “wrong” hand. I can if needed use my right hand to eat with, write with and drive with. When I was younger and was forced to participate in sports I could use either hand. I actually performed better with my left hand, it was just never strong enough. I never trained with my left hand. I used to bowl (stop laughing) and I was taught to use my left hand. My score increased by 10-20 points. When going out to dinner I need to pay attention to where I sit. Sometimes I forget and I don’t enjoy my dining experience.

My maternal grandmother was left-handed. I have a few close cousins who are lefties. And out of my three children I have only one lefty. That’s the Manchild. Who is very creative and very intellectual. I am not as creative as I was when I was younger. Maybe I never was, just thought I was. I did do a lot of art projects, however at times it was difficult.

I never have given it much thought to being left handed in everyday life. I probably struggle a bit more, but I don’t attribute it to being left-handed which that might be the cause of my difficulty.

I know it was difficult to learn to dance. Doing the steps, for some reason I always got turned around. I tend to carry things in my left hand, such as my phone, car keys. Then I find it difficult because when I get into the car I have to put everything down before I can closed the car door behind me. I use my right shoulder to carry my purse, I used to wear my wristwatch on my left wrist. Then my father explained that it should go on my right wrist because I would continuously bump it on things. I would have a pen in my left hand, watch on my left wrist. That was weird.

Playing guitar when my dad attempted to teach me, I played right handed. It felt so uncomfortable playing left. I don’t think I am a true lefty. Because they do everything left-handed. I don’t. Sadly, my right hand, arm has taken a beating because I use it so much. Not to long ago I tried using my left hand for other things, just felt uncomfortable. I don’t take a lot of stock in those articles that a lot of statistics about lefty’s. That they are more satifified sexually, they are more likely to die younger, recover from a stroke faster & better and so on. I just don’t give it much thought. I’m just a left-handed woman in a right-handed world.

Are you left-handed? Not sure? Ask yourself these questions. Find out more at Lefthandersday.com

  1. Imagine the center of your back is itching. Which hand do you scratch it with?

  2. Interlock your fingers. Which thumb is uppermost?

  3. Imagine you are applauding. Start clapping your hands. Which hand is uppermost?

International Left-Handed Day

No Podcast Today

Two weeks have past and I have not done a Cat’s Tales Podcast. I haven’t been feeling it. I don’t understand why. Maybe I’m just blocked, no thoughts, anything of interest strikes my fancy. I would like to have some interesting people on my show, but for whatever reason, things just don’t seem to being working out.

So, I guess I’m taking a break, until I feel I have something to share. I know there is always plenty to talk about, what really..nothing sounds interesting to me. I also have so much to do here in my mome, that I am finding myself unable to complete the tasks. I remembered a time when I would clean the house every weekend, while everyone was out of the house. Now, no one leaves! They hang out here, everyone in the comfort of their own space.

Lately, what ever it is that I am going through, I don’t like it. Everything from the crazies back in my life to chores of cleaning to not wanting to do my podcast. I just don’t feel like dealing with anything. I know I will bounce back soon enough, life will pick up speed and I will be hanging on with white knuckles. I also noticed that my body doesn’t bounce back like it did. My foot still hasn’t healed right from that night I fell. Now my left wrist hurts to turn, because I turned it wrong while I was goofying around. What next?! Oh don’t answer that!