Small town slavegirl

Everything moves slowly in the country except the time I spend here for some reason. Cars seem to crawl along, conversations drag out for several hours, but it seems like I’ve just arrived and already three days have passed.

The flight over was OMG tiring. Master dropped me off at the airport and as I’d already checked in on-line, I breezed through the luggage drop-off in about 2 minutes and headed for security where I held the line up as I unloaded my laptop from my bag and then took my boots and coat off. I then had the standard “You’ll need to take your necklace off” comment from the security dude to which I gave my standard answer of “It doesn’t come off” and then I strolled through the metal detector without it making a peep.

The flight was full without even one seat to spare and after boarding on-time, we spent 30mins sitting on the tarmac while they loaded on luggage. At some time past midnight ‘dinner’ was served and every hour or so the non-English speaking dude sitting next to me had the lovely habit of digging his elbows into my side as he wanted me to move so he could go to the toilet.

I reached Sydney airport at oh-my-god o’clock and headed straight for the Starbucks cafe I knew was in the other terminal for a grande hit of delicious caffeine, only to arrive and find it was GONE!! I dont’ think I’ve been more devastated since I discovered that the USA did actually go to the moon (personally, I find the whole conspiracy theory a lot more satisfying…)

Then it was two hours to kill before boarding another tiny propeller plane and praying fervently to god that we’d make it (have I mentioned I don’t like flying?) But I made it and 12 hrs after I’d left home in Perth, I finally arrived.

It had been 18mths since I’ve last seen my family and everyone looked a bit greyer. My 86 year-old grandmother was looking especially fragile and it’s quite upsetting to see her getting weaker and weaker every time.

I live my life generally in a bubble over on the other side of Australia. I’m not the sort of person to call my family every week and I only get little snippets of information now and then that don’t really impact on me deeply. Yes, I hear when someone has been sick or someone has moved house or something major like that, but I’m not close enough to have an emotional reaction. I get the information and file it away somewhere, but it’s not until I’m physically presented with the reality that I actually feel anything.

 My life as a slave is so very far removed from the realities of my life as a sister, daughter, grand-daughter, aunt, niece and cousin that it is a shock to the system when I’m thrust back into that life. I think that’s why I get so very,very tired when I come home. It’s like a year’s worth of emotional reactions suddenly hit me and I’m overwhelmed. 

But what’s also disturbing is how easily I can slot back into those roles after being so far removed from them and living as nothing more than a slut, whore and bitch. One minute I’m parading around the house naked in boots and chains and the next minute I’m the responsible adult wiping snot off kiddies’ noses and ensuring everyone has their hat. It’s quite mind-blowing.

I’ve already had a visit from my father, whom I try to avoid like the plague, and hopefully now he won’t bother me again. For some reason, people keep telling him when I’m coming home and if they didn’t I’d just slip in and out of town and he’d be none the wiser. I’m hoping he leaves me alone now because  seriously, I don’t think I could listen to another minute of his prattle and feign interest. It’s really torture, in fact, I think I’d prefer to be licked than to have to spend time with him.

So that’s about where I am at the moment.  On a good note, the whole change of scenery has seemed to curb my binge tendencies. I’m not actually even hungry and normally I’m ravenous all the time, and the only thing I’ve purchased is a pair of thongs (no, not the underwear kind, the shoe kind. In fact, I think thongs as underwear are illegal in this part of the country…lol.)

I’ve got a few lunches and dinner dates lined up for the days ahead and I’m sure my holiday will be over before I know it. While family is nice and I love them to pieces, I don’t think I could stand the emotional impact for extended periods of time.

I think I need the simple comfort of my slavery.

8 thoughts on “Small town slavegirl

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  1. Sounds like your in one of those small country towns in NSW like where my relatives live, so i completely get what you mean! It is interesting how you can go from that slave mode to being the resposible adult, i find myself doing that most days though with our child.

    I hope you’re back in your comfortable slavery soon enough 🙂

    1. Small country town in NSW? That is indeed where I am!

      Being here in early summer has given me a bit of an appreciation for it though. Previously, I’ve usually come in the dead of winter when it’s minus 10 degrees and it’s so miserable. I’m actually thinking it’s not a bad place to live.

    1. Other than my father, I enjoy spending time with my family and it’s great to catch-up (because I’m sooo not a telephone person and have to talk in person).

      The difficult part is switching on my emotions and becoming a ‘part of the family’ again.

      1. I find I have the same problem and my family all lives within a rather short drive of me. I have my own little world inside this house and I’m happy in it. Intrusions from the real world are not welcomed.

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