Prepping for a Job Interview

So on a more upbeat note; I decided to post a blog about prepping for a job interview. I work in the business field. I look younger than my age so I have to make myself look the roll so to speak before an interview.

1.       I tie my hair back into a bun. I was actually told by one of my instructors in business school that women should pull their hair away from their face during an interview. This way the interviewer can see the woman’s face. I decided to try it to see if my instructor was blowing smoke or on to something. It turns out he was on to something.

2.       I wear my glasses. Apparently, glasses make a person look smarter. Therefore when I am doing an interview I leave my contacts at home and put on my glasses.

3.       Light make-up only. The interviewer should be able to see me and who I am not 10 layers of make-up that make it look like I am about to have a night on the town.

4.       I neatly trim and shape my nails. I remove any nail polish. I do not wear fake nails because I don’t want to send the message I am not willing to get my hands dirty.  Not to mention, fake nails drive me bonkers.

5.       No perfume. I hate perfume in general, but the interviewer could have a fragrance allergy so any perfume worn could give the interviewer a headache or even a migraine. This does not make a good first impression.

6.       Wear clothes that fit. By fit I mean clothes that are neither too tight nor too small. For me this is difficult, some clothing items I alter myself and some I pay a tailor. When it gets into reconstructing a dress shirt to fit me, I pay a tailor. It is worth the money because first impressions are important.

7.       Buy a portfolio. I put my resume, schedule of interviews, ink pen, and stuff along that line in my portfolio. It looks more professional than walking in holding a couple copies of my resume. I bought my portfolio for 15 dollars, it was worth the investment.

8.       I drive by wherever it is I am interviewing at the day before, because nothing is worse than getting lost or not being able to find the place I am supposed to interview at.

9.       Make sure all alarms are turned off on and the cell phone is set to silent. The last thing, I need is a reminder to go off during an interview or for someone to call me. I seek to eliminate that as a possibility. I check my phone beforehand to make sure this won’t happen.

10.    I give myself a pep talk in the mirror. I know it sounds stupid but I will stand in front of the mirror and tell myself a few times that I can do anything. It helps me build my confidence to convey who I am as a person to a potential company.

1, 2, 3, 4

The following blog is about my four suicide attempts and the reasons behind it. This is a deeply personal topic for me and although I do not find it distrubing, some people may. Therefore this is your warning.

You know that love of life that so many people talk about and live for, I don’t feel that. Most of the time I feel like I am simply existing and I do not feel alive. I suffer from depression and I don’t remember a time when I liked generalized life. I do remember distinctly the moment when I first wanted to die. I was 6 years old. I don’t remember why it was I wanted at 6 or the reason. What I do remember about it was I was in the backseat of my parents’ car and my mom was driving. She was rambling about how God will send for us when it is our time to die and we will be ready. In that moment, I felt ready to die and that feeling has never faded.

When I was 13, I made my first attempt at suicide. I took a lot of Tylenol. I am not sure of the exact amount but I suspect it was over 100. I got very sick and I was throwing up. After two days, I was still throwing up and my skin was turning yellow. My elder brother stopped by my parents’ house to visit and see how everything was going. When he saw that I was jaundice he demanded that my parents take me to the doctor. My dad took me to the doctor that day. My family doctor thought it was an acute case of food poisoning and I had to get a shot everyday for about a week.

The reason I attempted suicide in the first place is because my home life left something to be desired. My room was next to the living room and my dad would turn up the TV so loud I couldn’t hear myself think which resulted in me not sleeping.  I also had the majority of the chores dumped on me while my twin went out and did his youth activities. At school, I was dating an older boy (imagine that) and the girls were jealous. So they started a rumor that I was a lesbian. Since, I was not sexually active with my then boyfriend.  I was mocked relentlessly for being a lesbian. I had girls start chanting ‘gays okay’ while I walked by, not because they really thought it was okay to be gay but because they were being an ass.

In an attempt to rectify the situation and get help or guidance or something, I attempted to talk to my mother. I prefaced my question, in if she ever head of someone wanting to commit suicide because they were overwhelmed with life and people at school were being mean to them. Her response was that was ‘stupid’ and she never heard of someone committing suicide for that reason. She went on to explain that she didn’t believe in any mental disorder.  

I felt alone in the world and I knew I had no one to turn too. Any attempt I made to get help would probably be put to rest by mom and her belief that these things are not real.

My feeling after the attempt was one of isolation. I felt alone, but I had one person that cared. One person that came over to my parents’ house everyday to make sure I was okay. It was my boyfriend at the time. He cared and when I saw how much he cared I felt like I had something to live for. So I decided that I wasn’t going to attempt suicide again.

As much as I would like to say that is the end of my story with attempting to end my life and my hatred of life it is not. I was only the beginning. 

To understand my next 3 suicide attempts, you would have to understand the journey to that point. When I was 15 as I was browsing the internet one day, I discovered the world of BDSM. It was interesting to me and it seemed like a different world, a simpler world.  I talked to various men online over the following year. They were all older men and well over the age of 18. I ended up chatting with a man shortly before my 17^th birthday about things.  I met him shortly after my 17^th birthday and he took a couple pictures of me. He threatened to show those pictures to my parents if I didn’t leave my parents home to go be with him.

I left in early May and I traveled to his home. I really wasn’t sure what I was in for, but I thought I was ready for it. I spent the next nine months of my life getting beaten into submission, shared with groups of men and women, locked in cellar, and etc. I wanted to please him but I found it to be impossible. He was always angry and would lash out at me. I suffered broken bones, I was suffocated to the point of blacking out and when I woke up the whites of my eyes were completely red. My eyes stayed that way for weeks.

Eventually, I gave up on trying resisting anything, because it hurt less when I didn’t put up a fight. Saying no or physically trying to stop something from happening was like encouragement.  He could at this point get me to do nearly anything he wanted. While I was underage he had me convinced that if I tried to get help, if I tried to tell someone that I would get locked up by the police and never see the light of day again.

It wasn’t until I was 18 that I had the courage to leave and I called my parents for help. This time, my parents were there for me.  I went back to my parents’ home in rural Oklahoma. I tried to put him out of my mind but he still called me frequently and emailed me a lot. I did not tell my parents what I was doing while I was gone and they didn’t ask.

I lived with my parents for 3 months before I moved out into my own apartment. I was having trouble with the change and the responsibility that came with living on my own. I was at work when I got a frantic phone call from him and he told me that the police executed a search warrant on his residence because of a report of an underage girl. This time, he had courted a 16 year old but she went back home to her family the week before. I heard several different stories on the terms in which she left so how or why she left I cannot comment. 

None the less, he was pretty mad and the police found pictures of me. Later on that afternoon, the chief of police in the town my parents lived in got a phone call from the detective over the case. I lived on the Kansas/Oklahoma boarder and my apartment was in Kansas. The chief of police had my parents’ phone number and gave it to the detective.

The detective called my father, who gave him my telephone number. I met with the detective a few days later after I hired a lawyer.  I was honest with the detective because my lawyer told me I lied, even a white lie then I could get into trouble. The police department executed another search warrant while I was getting interrogated by the detective, because I told the detective about hiding places for pictures other stuff in places they did not look.

He was extremely pissed off when the second search warrant was executed, however he had already removed the items from those places.  A short time later, the actual charges were filed against my former master.

He really wanted to get out of this but it is difficult when there is photographic evidence of something happening.  He called me a lot during this time and he was increasingly desperate. He would yell at me and tell me he was going hurt me. I believed him. 

He convinced me that what I should do is try to kill myself, because it would be the best thing for me. He had me convinced that being labeled a minor in a pornography case would ruin me for the rest of my life and my life wasn’t worth living. Over the following weeks, I attempted suicide 3 times. I tried to drown myself once and slit my wrists twice. I never had the strength to push down hard enough on my wrists to get deep enough to cause any real damage, even though I can still see light scars from that today.

My twin noticed the marks on my wrists which lead to my now sister-in-law coming over to talk to me. One of my male friends voiced a concern about it around that time too. I expressed to them my concerns and for once in my life I felt safe, like no one was going to hurt me. I stopped with the suicide attempts at that point.

This fall it will be 10 years since my last suicide attempt. I have struggled with depression over the following decade. But I found a wonderful Master, that doesn’t beat me or terrorize me. I feel like I have something to live for with him and even though I still hate life. I have moments where I feel alive and I feel happy. I live for those moments.

The point of me writing this is because one thing I have realized is that I did not pull the strength from inside me to stop myself from wanting to kill myself. It was that one friend, that one person who cared about whether or not I lived or died. In retrospect, I learnt something from those 4 attempts and that is one friend can save a life.

Weight Loss Control

So I have been on a fairly restrictive diet due to my hypoglycemia. The diet works to control the blood sugar issues. However, I have been dropping weight. When I started this diet I weighed in at 128 and size 6. Now 6 months later I weigh 108 and a size 0. I am one pound from being considered underweight for my height based off the charts.

I am going to start increasing the amount of calories in my diet in the hopes that I stop dropping weight. I can’t just go out and eat anything because of my medical condition so I have to evaluate and make choices that are right for my body.  Increasing the amount of protein, which was recommended to me by my doctor, seems like the most reasonable path.  I am going to add in a cheese stick with my morning and early afternoon snack. That will add 160 calories to my diet per day and increase my protein. Hopefully, it doesn’t cause havoc to my blood sugar levels.

We shall see how this goes.

-emma

The Passport Photo

I recently had to get my passport, since my Master and I will be traveling abroad this summer. I found the experience of getting my passport photo done relevant to my relationship. Because I had to take my collar off for the picture. There are a lot of requirements for passport photos under the new guidelines and while I think that some of the rules are overkill I can understand their purpose.  

The actual act of having to take my collar off and sit down on the counter to have my picture taken while not smiling was slightly unnerving for me.  I almost felt like I was being processed into part of the system where everyone has to look and be the same. In a way, that feeling was correct. I also felt like I was somehow betraying my Master and taking my collar off. 

 My Master was not with me when I was doing this, because he was at work. I did text him right away to tell him that I removed my collar for the picture. I didn’t think I would be in trouble due to the circumstances but I could see myself being in trouble if I tried to hide it from him. In the end, I didn’t betray my Master. I obeyed him by getting my passport stuff done and I got to put my collar back on as soon as they were done snapping the picture.

-emma

Ponytails

Whenever my Master and I go to an outdoor event, my hair is pulled back in a pony tail. For me it has been a functional thing, because my hair blowing in my face is counterproductive to whatever is I am outside doing.

My Master also sees a pony tail as functional. When we are festivals or things of that nature, I tend to get sidetracked and wander. My Master will reach out and pull my pony tail if I get too far ahead. Pulling my ponytail makes me stop and refocus myself on him. 

Pulling my hair like that is an easy and non-intrusive way for him to remind me of my place without making a scene in public or in front of family. He doesn’t pull my hair hard. He pulls it just enough to get my attention.

-emma

On being thin

I am a thin woman, I have small breasts, and I only stand 5’3” tall. What does that mean? I get to be the verbal punching bag for overweight women who are jealous, insecure, or any number of other things. I have always been small. I have never been overweight, but like any woman in the world I have had days where I felt fat and days when I felt too skinny. 

I do not eat what I want, when I want. I have an eating schedule and a very restrictive diet. I can’t go off my diet even for a day because if I do it will make me physically sick. My body simply cannot handle the change and the change will mess up my blood sugar. I am hypoglycemic if I eat too many carbohydrates during a meal or if I don’t have my snacks on time. This causes me to get a severe headache and I will have difficulty speaking.  

I would love to be able to eat what I want. That would be amazing to me. I would love to have a donut with chocolate icing for breakfast and a cheeseburger with fries for dinner, but I can’t do that. I would love to be able to have the desserts I make on the holidays instead of just looking at them, but I can’t do that.

 I absolutely hate it when someone who is overweight comes up to me and tells me I need to eat a sandwich.  I am on a restrictive diet which means I can’t do that. I am not going to sacrifice my health because someone thinks I need to carry few more pounds.  If they even took a moment to understand what my life was like with my health issues then maybe they would understand, but I doubt it.

Moving on I am not exceptionally curvy. I do carry most of my weight on my hips and legs but still I am lacking. I have been told directly by a number of overweight women that I have the body of a 12 year old boy or that I am not a real woman. I happen to find this rather insulting and I do have feelings. I do worry about how my body looks just like every other woman on the planet.

Let me take a moment to clear some things up, I am a woman because I was born a female. It has nothing to do with my bra size, the size of my ass, how much I weigh, the length of my hair, whether or not I’ve ever had a baby belly, and etc.  It doesn’t matter if I am thin, average, overweight, or whatever. I am still a woman.

People who say, they can insult me because of my size because they are overweight and get picked on by people who are not me, need to simply grow up.  It is immature and belittling other people to make you feel better says a lot about your character or lack of character. I don’t make fun of anyone’s size. I don’t tell overweight people to lay off the donuts or anything like that. I don’t question whether or not they are a real woman, nor do I attempt to make the very thought of being with them in a sexual manner an act of pedophilia. 

I respect overweight people therefore I do not make fun of their body type. I would appreciate the same respect.

-emma

An Overview of my Early Training with my former Master

One thing I get asked a lot is what my early training was like with my former Master, because as my Master often says. I was pretty well trained when he got me. He just had to put on some finishing touches, so to speak. Let me preface this by saying I do not recommend anyone treat their slave or anyone else in their life the way I was treated. I do not condone violence in anyway, but through violence is how I developed. 

I reason why I have always skirted around this question is because it was and still is difficult for me to form into words.  I don’t know the best way to describe that time in my life, so I will do my best to make sense. I suppose I should start by saying I was young when I went to be with my former Master. I was underage and he was in his 40s. He had been a bachelor most of his life and he had very specific ideas of what he wanted, how he wanted it, and etc. I had to learn to fit inside that box or face the consequences.

He expected me to do as I was told, be quite, keep the house spotless, never get ill, never mess up, and etc. If I failed at any one of those, I would get punished. I would get beaten with closed fists, kicked, slapped, and so on over anything he saw as my fault. If I really made him angry he would lock me away for a time.

My desire to please and to stop this from happening was somewhat futile. He would look for reasons to punish me. He liked hitting me and it aroused him. He didn’t want to hit me because he was in charge or because he could. He wanted a reason and something to point to as the reason why this was happening.  He wanted me to hate it and he wanted me to feel bad about whatever it was I did and feel deserving of that sort of treatment. I learnt to pay very close attention to everything I did and my appearance. I didn’t want him to find a reason to punish me but oftentimes I found myself dealing with situations outside of my experience so on a first try if I failed. I was punished.

We did not have open communication in the relationship. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him in less spoken to and I spoke in the third person.  It was difficult for me because I felt like I wasn’t able to let him know how I felt about anything and it created a no compromise situation. My mental state, health, and generalized well-being were not taken into account with any of his decisions. It was simply about what he wanted with a disregard for anyone else.  The purpose this served for me is I learnt in a relatively short time that my own personal thoughts and opinions did not matter. What mattered was how he felt.

I may or may not go into more details with this in the future. My concern with talking about this openly is someone will decide it is a good way to train a slave and start beating their slave. I can honestly say I do not believe anyone deserves to be treated the way I was treated regardless of the perceived benefits of doing so. This is also a very difficult subject for me to speak about.

-emma