March 2020

Wolf had a good idea for the book series.
Prolonging life by the consumption of pain. Obligate mutualism. We feed and heal each other. Closed circle.

Vibes well with my theme, acceptance of the other in their purest forms begets self-acceptance and happily ever after.

He is my monster eater.

Every bit of damage that has been done to me; he undoes. With his words or his hands, just by being himself really.

The first night we met, I felt myself expanding into who I used to be, better even. I felt what I could be in how he saw me that night.
It’s still that way. Standing next to him I am at my most brave and beautiful self. Under him I am a bit of a mess, but he likes me that way, and so do I. Princess Panda Eyes is part of who I am.

It is beyond liberating, to be cherished and understood as I am. To have someone peel back all the constrictive layers of other people’s opinions of me.

So shed your skin and let’s get started (Hunters and Collectors)

That’s what it feels like. Sloughing off the old and making room for the new.

One corrupt file at a time.

Those that came before either had no idea what they were dealing with in me, or worse, knew what they had, tried to stifle it, bring me down to their level so they could own me. But, eventually they all ran anyways. Leaving me feeling like I was too much or not enough and never being able to reconcile this.

I am enough.

He stays.

That is huge to me. He is unwavering, even when I am running around like Chicken Little thinking the sky is falling. All he has to say is “It was just a bad day baby, it’s alright now.” And I can breathe.

He’s not wrong.

He doesn’t hold grudges; I get to exist without consequences for what I am. I just get to be myself, whatever that happens to be. I get to evolve. I am encouraged to do so. He protects me, even from myself.

I was sitting on the floor in the airport trying to get my boots back on, my dress was riding up, but I was rushing and didn’t notice. He stood in front of me and when I finally stood up, flustered, he said he noticed and was standing in place, protecting what was his. This.
I did something silly, he protected me.
I also felt safe enough to wear ‘that’ dress out in public, because he was with me. That in itself, is a big deal.

This is where the Dom/sub dynamic leaves the bedroom and presents in real life.

I chose (very early on) to defer to him, to trust him completely. He can (and does) overpower me physically without exerting much effort at all. He’s a really big fucker and very skilled in varying fighting disciplines. (I may or not be quivering a bit thinking about this)

I’ve seen examples of what he is capable of, untethered, and it is a lot.

I am not afraid. Quite the opposite, I feel safe in a way I’ve only briefly experienced before. Now it just is.

Our sexual tastes and kinks are perfectly compatible. Our bodies are too.

But there is more to it than that.

He is both my monster, and he fights the monsters.

He has his demons too. We all do, anyone worth knowing does anyways.

I am a demon tamer.

How does one tame a demon?
You can’t.  
I don’t really, tame isn’t the right word, that implies ownership and forced subservience.
I soothe.
Broken horses still run, but only because we make them. It’s not the same.
Just like you can’t really keep a wolf as a pet. I mean you can, but something in them will always remain wild. And to me, that is the part worth saving and nurturing. Beasts don’t belong in cages. Once he’s out, it will be his own free will that decides where he wants to go, and whether he wants to stay with me. Roam if you want to. I’m here.

Absolute acceptance for what someone else is at their core. Love for all the dark things they kept hidden and unconditional understanding, ‘of course you feel that way.’ And figuring out the reasons why. Learning who someone really is behind the masks we have to wear. When those masks come off, he is glorious.

That trust is everything.

We are physical manifestations of safe spaces for each other. Everything he ever wanted to do is everything I want done to me, I encourage him to be himself, take everything he has to give and ask for more, please more.
Everything I was afraid to be is what he wants for me, he encourages me, even to the point of designing the cover for the smol book and pushing every limit I have put on myself.

We benefit from the other healing, learning, evolving.

He said today that we have practice being apart, that we will be okay.

I know we will be.

Like an unsung melody
The truth is waiting there for you to find it
It’s not a blight, but a remedy
A clear reminder of how it began
Deep inside your memory
Turned away as you struggled to find it
You heard the call as you walked away
A voice of calm from within the silence
And for what seemed an eternity
You’re waiting, hoping it would call out again
You heard the shadow reckoning
Then your fears seemed to keep you blinded
You held your guard as you walked away

When you think all is forsaken
Listen to me now (all is not forsaken)
You need never feel broken again
Sometimes darkness can show you the light

Disturbed, The Light

I would like to attempt to be the voice of reason here.

I am not a doctor, nor a politician, nor any kind of expert. I am a rational, intelligent human being who is currently self isolating as to not exacerbate the problem.

I lived through the East Coast Blackout in August of 2003, 8 days without power. We were one of the last neighbourhoods to have power restored because I lived in an industrial area. This feels like that, without the camaraderie and with too much information.

I was a server during SARS in Toronto and I watched us service industry people all suffer and starve because no one came to the city that year. I have also seen the false information about the concert at Downsview park later that year. Our city was suffering massive economic ramifications over a very small outbreak. The Rolling Stones put on a huge concert months after the fact. It did NOT cause the outbreak, Keith Richards saved us.

My normal writing style has a lot of sarcasm and dry humor, I am trying to quell it now, bear with me.

I also was alive, in my 20’s, during 9/11.

I saw something today that made absolute sense to me, so I will share it now.

This feels like 9/11 every day.

Pretty astute. This looming fear, the uncertainty, what is next, countries going on lockdown.

I both realize and emphasize it is not the same. But the global fear is palpable. Like a low-grade panic attack that won’t let go rather than one big episode then a slow return to normalcy.

Things changed after 9/11 and they will definitely change again after this.

As someone who suffers from anxiety, and has a horse in this race, also as a page runner on social media and a blogger with a fairly high hit count, I feel like I have a responsibility to myself and others to remain calm.

I only read articles from reputable sources. I am vigilant in my fact checking.

I have come to some conclusions based on what I have read and what I have experienced.

There seems to be a growing desire among a fair percentage of people to ‘just get this, get sick, quarantine and get it over with.’ Or alternately, with the same sentiment in mind ‘let the government shut everything down, quarantine and get this over with.’

This is my mindset as well. Nothing would bring me more comfort than having a piece of paper that stated ‘recovered’ and have the border reopened.

There is no cure, there is recovery only. Recovery means your body fought off the virus and won. Is it immunity forever? Looks like no. More like the herpes virus but less serious, wherein you can contract COVID 19 a second time, but its rare.

Worth noting it is estimated that 80-90% of the population carry the herpes virus, whereas a fraction of the carriers exhibits symptoms or outbreaks.

I said last week, people are going to get tired of panicking, its exhausting.

I don’t think that is what the media wants.

I am not a conspiracy theorist by any stretch of the imagination. But, on my 3 social media platforms, plus ‘recommended links’ every time I’ve opened Google over a 14 day period, I’ve found 2 articles containing good news. 2 out of an estimated 400 I have been subjected to just from regular scrolling.

I Googled “is Italy testing for COVID 19 among the deceased?” 8+ horrible headlines before I found any reputable, real information, and my question is still unanswered. But it’s a good article. Factual, calming. Here, read it.

https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/16/opinions/south-korea-italy-coronavirus-survivability-sepkowitz/index.html

My train of thought was as follows. It is now widely known that Africa as a collective, at the height of the AIDS epidemic*, was unable to test the deceased for HIV or AIDS. Of course not, those tests are better used on the living. However, a massive anomaly with the actual numbers was finally noted. Anyone who died of any illness associated with HIV was enumerated as AIDS related ______ (fill in the blank).  Most notably pneumonia.

Non infected individuals also get pneumonia.

See where I am going here?

COVID 19 hit during flu season.

Are the death tolls and infection rates accurate? Can they possibly be?

Unlikely. It’s a scientific improbability.

China is another conundrum in and of itself. We are basing a lot of information on numbers and actions coming from China. China is a communist country with a government-controlled media. Culturally speaking, China is also known for ‘saving face’. It is just ingrained in their culture. Zero judgement on my part. I am merely suggesting that maybe the government wouldn’t put a whole country under quarantine over 253 reported cases on January 21^st 2020. Which is what happened.
The numbers are likely skewed.
For example In 2008 the magnitude 7.9 2008 Sichuan earthquake killed 87,587 people. (source, Wikipedia)  It was originally reported, well after the fact that the death toll from said earthquake was 600-800 people. This was later revealed to be untrue and in reality the numbers were downplayed 100x.

Again, no conspiracy here, just a logical conclusion based on a relatable event.

I lived in Newfoundland for 2 years. I left November 21^st 2019 as the first case of COVID 19 was being diagnosed in Wuhan.

Since then I have traveled extensively through the United States. I have crossed paths with at least 3 known diagnosed individuals at 2 different airports, same time, same airline, different flights. I have been to a massive music festival just as the states was starting to report hot spots. I have traveled in those cities, through those airports, most recently a week ago, hence self isolation, even though my symptoms are limited to what I know is my body fighting off an illness. i.e. mildly swollen glands and I am tired.

So fucking tired, mostly due to stress and canceling all of my future travel plans one by one without knowing when I will see my boyfriend again, when I will be allowed to return to work, will the government help me, an independent contractor? I have less unknowns and fears than a lot of people I know. I am safe, I have food and shelter. And here’s the kicker (and the reason for this article).

I know, beyond all doubt, I have been exposed to this virus already. It is an infinitesimally small chance that I haven’t been. Sure, you can say ‘well you traveled a lot.’ Yes, I did. And before last week, I went about my daily life just like everyone else, coming into contact with probably less than your average number of people because I am an introvert, but still. All infection models say the average infected person with infect 2.5 more people, who will go on to infect 2.5 more people, so by me going out 1+2.5+2.5+2.5= 8.5 people off the hop in one day of running to the post office. Which I did. Among other things, i.e. I was on a plane, 4 planes actually, 6 in the last 3 weeks at 3 different airports a total of 6 times.

The math on this is both terrifying and comforting.

Can you see why?

My stance is that probably 90% of the urban population has been exposed if not infected. The curve will flatten sooner than later due to the fact that we have all already been exposed or infected. The numbers will spike when more tests become available, but that is unavoidable,

I read a Twitter thread from a 22-year-old girl in NYC who had been clubbing, a lot, 2 weeks ago. 10 days ago, she started feeling shitty, demanded she be tested even though they didn’t want to. Went through the symptoms, self isolated and yep, she was positive. Imagine how many other people she came in contact with before feeling shitty. The extrovert principle.

I have another friend who travels for work, was on an infected flight, in one of the ‘at risk’ rows. She tested negative.

Another friend went to the hospital 2 days ago in St. John’s Newfoundland, a thriving port town, with exact COVID 19 symptoms and was denied a test and sent home. As of the reports yesterday NFLD had tested 618 people, 1 positive, 2 presumptive. But I know another girl in St. John’s, full symptoms, recovered, never tested.

So, what does all of this mean?

Personally, I think I somehow managed to micro-dose myself with this virus and time will tell, but I think my body is fighting it off rather efficiently. Or, I have been directly exposed and again, I am fine.

I think the numbers are all wrong. Unless we test the entire world including the recently deceased, which is impossible, the numbers will never be accurate.
But if people are fighting to be tested and turned away…how many people really have it?

I would like the media to be more responsible reporting numbers.

I refuse to look at counts unless issued by the World Health Organization daily status reports https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel-coronavirus-2019/situation-reports

Or this one https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/

worldometers now has a column for # of tests administered and we can do the math on the # of those who test negative.
But that doesn’t make headlines does it.

This is feeling like the end of the world, with a lot of uncertainty.

But, if I am right, it doesn’t have to be.

Stay safe, quarantine if possible, demand to be tested.

Let’s get this over with and get back to our new normal.

*lesser known scientific fact that emerged from Africa during the AIDS epidemic. A large number of prostitutes had developed a natural immunity to HIV from repeated low dose exposure to the virus.

The Secret of HIV Immunity Among Kenyan Sex Workers

24 days later and I still haven’t adjusted to not everyone knowing what I am doing at all times.

I miss my Facebook fam. I miss my page and my people.

To be clear, I don’t miss Facebook itself. It is panic city misinformationland over there. Who knew Twitter was the rational older brother of social media…

I talk to a couple people on Instagram, met a few new tribesmen on Twitter. But it isn’t the same.

Funny enough, my Facebook memories were stocked with good omens and sage advice from past me.
I stayed off social media, mostly, til noon. I had an alarm for that.

I am on day one of self-improvement Sarah instead of just wallowing.

80% achievement unlocked. Not bad for one day.

Got up 90 minutes after my alarm, but 8:45 is better than noon, and I was having a really good dream.
Took my vitamins. 2L of water ingested so far. Bed made, laundry in the dryer. One article down and this one in progress. Checked on the Hulk, Halo and Sara. Did storytime and NSFW emails to Wolf.

I had a mid-day Pornhub hiatus to reward myself. Now I need a shower and to tackle one project. There’s a list.

So, Wolf and my 500+ Twitter followers know I did something really stupid Tuesday.

Back up a sec…I had a dancing contract at a small town strip club for a week, set up months ago. Was kinda dreading it after the last bar I worked at. My dread was unfounded, I kinda loved it. Made more the first night than I did in 3 weeks at the other place I had been forcing myself to go to.

That was Monday night, I almost didn’t go because, well pandemic. And because every fiber of my being is over dancing really. I belong to my Wolf Dom and other people looking at me sexually is abhorrent. But money and surviving are a need. I went.

I didn’t hate it. It was super chill, squeaky clean and easy.

We sat in limbo Monday night waiting for announcements from our provincial government about non-essential service shutdowns. It wasn’t IF the bar was going to close, it was when.

‘When’ happened to be Tuesday morning.

I messaged the girl I was traveling with around 11am, sent her the article I had read. She forwarded it to the boss and the dominos cascaded.

Our ride was 2+ hours away. I did a coffee run, threw on Brooklyn 99 and packed slowly.

Here is the dumb part.

I had barely unpacked. We knew we weren’t staying before we even got there. All my clothes save what I had worn, were in my suitcase. All my make up and toiletries were still in their respective bags.

What I did do…was put my sex toys in the nightstand drawer. Like a fool.
Am I fucking new?
I KNOW myself, I get distracted too easily when stressed. I always double check. But this time I didn’t.
I even remember thinking it was a bad idea while I was doing it and I remember thinking that morning “don’t forget those” but then my phone dinged, and I got distracted.

Cut to 6 hours later, finally home. Very forlorn, avoiding unpacking like the plague because of the plague, sitting on my unmade bed in my sweaty sweats scrolling through porn gifs on Twitter thinking to myself ‘Self, a serotonin boost would be a really good idea right about now wouldn’t it?’

And then it hit me…

My sex toys were 2.5 hours away in a cathouse, in a locked room above a locked bar.

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I was downstairs begging for the jeep keys while still on the phone with the sex shop a few blocks away.

I panic bought the whole store.

Mild exaggeration, but I did spend a bit more in under 10 minutes at the Love Shop than I made the night before.

Worth it.

I can give up a lot of things. Masturbating is not one of them.

When I stocked up on vape stuff, I got the lower level of nicotine thinking this would be a good time to quit or at least wean myself off.

I imbibed 2 ounces of meat and 2 ounces of alcohol from November 21^st til December 26^th 2019.

I’ve been drunk 5 times in 5 months as opposed to 5 times a week.

But this?

No, I cannot, I will not.

The interaction at the store was hilarious. Both of us reassuring the other about washed hands and bleached countertops while keeping physical distance. She said she’d done the same thing a few years back, left her toys behind in a nightstand in a hotel out west. I felt slightly better, and new toys had been on my wish list for a while. I cringed replacing my Tracy’s Dog, but at this point it factors in on the same list as sleep, food, water and shelter.

I got home with my bag of precious and promptly sent Wolf the first remotely happy series of videos since I left for the airport. Showing him all of the treasures I had amassed.

There was a turning point there.

We went back to being our dirty, flirty selves and I didn’t realize how badly I needed our normal and how much I missed my Tango wand.

I don’t know who needs to hear this but get in the fucking shower, get out of the clothes you have been in for days, eat a vegetable, clean your closet. Please.

Make your bed, change your pants, wipe that shit off the counter.

It’s me, I needed to hear this. I need to do this.

My way of life has now become a government recommendation and I am sliding into the pit of stench and sloth. Because I am now allowed. Not exactly why, but still. I found myself on a scary precipice.

I pulled myself out thankfully. That was not okay.

Day one of correcting my sleep cycle.

I was thinking about the Hulk yesterday.

The man and the ride.

The man…well, he goes dark like I do. He messaged me asking where I was, if I was safe and how the social distancing is going. The last part was a bit of a joke. Quarantine is the word for how we live. Only go out of necessary, avoid large crowds etc. We are checking on our introvert friends too. It’s too easy to depression sleep for the foreseeable future.

We made a pact to check in. I used to remind him to take his vitamins, it’s time again.

We split 5 years ago yesterday and I still checked on him. Less and less over the years. But still. Love doesn’t stop, it just changes, or it was never love.

Hulk the ride? Hulk is bae. Fuck I wish I would have ridden it when I was down last time. I was just so tired from 2 days at Disney and I needed to go back to the condo and recharge. My spoons were gone, and I couldn’t people anymore.

Now I am scared I won’t get another chance.

I have panic issues. They were at their peak when I was married. The sky was always falling, and I was living in a state of walking on eggshells for years. I have learned to deal and create rational thought processes, also to say things out loud if they feel…weird and unpleasant. It helps.

But with so many thoughts, feelings, facts, false information flying around, everything seems within the realms of possibility doesn’t it?

I know I will go to Disney again. It’s just weird that its closed for the first time since 9/11.

They closed the US Canada border yesterday too, the world is pretty much shut for now.

The scary issue is, we don’t know until when.

When will the other shoe drop?

We keep waiting for the spike, the climax, but when I did my last grocery run today, everything seemed quiet but semi-normal. The bigger retail chains were closed, but there were people just wandering around, lottery kiosk open, As Seen on TV store, open. Didn’t make sense to me.

But nothing really does.

I have a horrible confession to make.

I flew home Friday night. I stayed in the same clothes I flew in, no shower, until Monday morning.

I was pretty fucking ripe. Totally grossed myself out. But I couldn’t move.

I had a long term, low grade panic episode with a massive black cloud of depression on top.

I was paralyzed.

I sat on my bed and stared at…

The wall

My phone

Pornhub

Netflix

And that’s it.

I knew I had to clean unpack and repack, but I didn’t. I took in exactly as many calories as I needed to continue existing, but that was all.

I started today the same way, filthy. But with a twist, cleaning lady came to fix downstairs and I decided to finally clean my room and get my shit together.

I hadn’t unpacked since my last Wolf trip. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. A 15-minute task took 4 hours because I kept checking my phone for an hour every 5 minutes. There was a finality to it that I wasn’t ready to process. I am the girl who has only been in one place for more than 11 days at a time since November 21^st 2019, same day as the first reported case of COVID-19 oddly enough.

It was hard to unpack with no idea when I am going to repack. It hurt me and scared me.

Things are going to be painful and hard and scary and we have to do them anyways.

To all the people raging against staying home. Stop. At some point you are going to have to face what alone feels like and it is not as bad as you think it is.

It’s now 9:34am the next day. Downstairs is decontaminated. The last of the groceries bought, responsibly, I will actually go through 7 tubs of yogurt in 14 days. Bags unpacked. Laundry in the washer. I still haven’t showered since Monday (still, post first, shower second, I fucked up starting the washing machine). My brain is less dark, but now what?

One of the most heartbreaking movie scenes in my internal filing cabinet is in American Beauty.

Ricky Fitz’s dad hits him, and says he needs structure and discipline. Its not that part, its Ricky’s response. “Thank you for trying to teach me, don’t give up on me dad.”

I too need structure and discipline, or I will watch the same 3 shows, sleep, be dirty in the same clothes, jerk off and not eat for days on end.

It is not a part of my personality that I am proud of, but it’s part of me that needs to be negotiated with.

What better time than a government enforced quarantine? Takes 3 weeks to make or break a habit.

I am safe in my attic space. Yes, sadness is bound to creep in…but what about all those things I have been putting off doing, reading, writing, learning? Why not now? Theoretically, I can’t be sad if I am busy.

Wolf and I are separated, but why not do what our grandparents did and write to each other?

I asked him today if we could tell each other one story every day, something old, something new, a memory together, anything really. He said yes.

I’ve had a timer to drink water every hour for a month now. Why not limit my social media too? Set alarms to write, to shower, to eat.

Maybe finally learn how to apply eyeshadow, do Tai Chi, do my squats and eat my vegetables. Fix the bag of clothes that need mending, read some books, write some too.

This is not how any of us wanted things to be. But it is the way they are.

Check on your friends, introverts or extroverts, be smart, be safe and for fuck sakes have a shower.