Being a slave, one of the really tough things to deal with is what to do when there’s something wrong with your man. Of course, in day-to-day life you deal with colds and tummy upsets and other sorts of medical things that be-fall menfolk and generally they act like they’re dying for a few days and then everything is good again once they realise that they’re not headed for Valhalla for eternity, but it’s the more serious stuff that is tricky to deal with.
We had a rather unsettling turn of events at the end of last week that directly affected Master and while it’s not life-threatening or anything that is going to affect us in the next couple of weeks, it was the sort of news that quite literally made my heart stop at 2:45pm last Thursday when he told me. I’m not going to go into details because it’s not my place to say anything, suffice to say that he’s not a happy camper and I don’t know how to help him.
He’s definitely not himself and actually I’m not myself either. All sorts of things went through my mind and while I’m not one to panic when it’s not as yet ‘panic stations’ time, I’m anxious and worried about what will happen and what changes will take place. I’ve never been one to cope well with change and I’d imagine that it’s due to the fact that I’m a planner and I like to know what’s going to happen in advance, with plenty of time to make the necessary adjustments. Now I don’t know what to expect and I’m a bit lost.
There have been times in the past when Master was outof sorts and I worried about whether I was going to be turfed outof the house on my slave behind (because even now, after 3 years I still worry about that…) and there were times when he was a bit depressed or didn’t feel 100% physically or whatever, but after a few days he perked up. When he’s out of sorts I always ask him how he is or if he is ok and his answer is always,
Now, to be utterly and frankly honest, as a slave and seeing as he’s my god and a supreme ultimate being, I don’t want to know when he’s worried aboutsomething or whatnot. To me, he should be perfect all the time. As his slave & worshipper, I don’t want to know when he’s worried aboutthe mortgage or that he’s thinking about what is going to happen when it’s time to take the poodle pup to the vet to be euthanised. I don’t want to know about all that icky life-stuff, at all. Period.
But as someone who shares his life and cares ever so deeply for him, I want to do everything I can to make his voyage through life as comfortable and care-free as possible. I want him to talk to me about how he feels, about his hopes and fears. I want him to feel that we’re both on this journey of life together and that I can share the load.
How to reconcile these two roles that I occupy is something that I wish they had taught me at slave school. It’s a skill that is beyond me and I struggle with what to do every single time that Master doesn’t have a smile or at least a twinkle in his eye that shows me he’s ok. When he is sad, worried or down-hearted I wish I could blow the dark clouds away, but so often I can’t. I guess the only thing I can do is remind him that I am here always.
Whenever & however he needs me.