Struggling

I’ve been struggling the last few days. Struggling with depression, and anxiety, and just this inner feeling that I am not good enough. For anything.

I don’t know that this is the place to process that, if people who read my blog are at all interested in ramblings on my mental health (or lack thereof), but, hey, it’s my blog, damnit, and I’ll post what I want.

It’s primarily been my anxiety that has been bothering me. I find myself getting sorta worked up about nearly anything. For example, my wife was sleeping one evening, because she wasn’t feeling well, and I had a near panic attack, because I didn’t know what to do with myself. I think this is related to my past abusive experience, because my abuser would get angry with me if I didn’t do what she wanted if she was asleep. She didn’t like me doing anything that distracted me from 100% focus on…HER.

And so I was worried that while S was asleep, I would do the wrong thing. I would entertain myself and she would be angry because I wasn’t staying focused on her. Which is really weird, because she doesn’t care what I do when she’s in bed with a migraine, as long as it isn’t so loud that I’m keeping her up or something–this would be pretty much the opposite of something she would get upset about.

But me, in my own inimitable fashion, got myself all worked up and in a tizzy, so that I was crying nonstop, and basically wanting to die.

The wanting to die, of course, was related to wondering WHAT THE FUCK was wrong with myself. I was so angry and frustrated with myself for not being able to know what to do with myself while my partner slept. I promise, my partner has taken naps before without me having a meltdown. But Saturday night? It wasn’t happening. I was hysterical, I was crying, and suddenly, I was suicidal, because I was furious with myself for behaving like an insane person.

Things have calmed since then. My wife is fortunately sane enough to recognize that this was not the end of the world, despite my effort to convince her otherwise. We’ve cuddled and hugged and talked about it. And agreed that I need to resume my journaling, my work in my CBT book, and work on de-escalating myself when I start to get worked up.

I have to use my coping skills. I need to identify them clearly, and practice them regularly. Because, quite frankly, I don’t want to feel this way again.

Spanking Story Updates

Out of gratitude for Nick’s shameless plugging of my writing, I’ve added a couple chapters to Samantha’s story.

I have a major punishment coming up in a few days as well. I was punished a couple of weeks ago for not journaling or doing my cognitive behavioral therapy for 2 weeks, and I haven’t done either of those at all since I was punished. I’m not sure what my issue is on that, but I know that S intends to deal with it pretty severely sometimes over the next couple of days.

I am both dreading it, and looking forward to that wonderfully spanked, punished feeling I’ll get afterwards.

This time, I’ll be sure to post about it here.

I see you…

Now, now, I see that Nick over at This DD life drummed up some major traffic on my stories page–comments are love my dear spanko friends.

A New Implement

Yesterday, I was being mouthy in the kitchen, and S surprised me by telling me to put my hands on the counter and bend over. I, of course responded by trying to turn to her and say, “What? No!”, I admit in part, just because I love to hear her voice get so authoritarian as she says, “Right, now.” I promptly obeyed, and she went digging in a drawer for a spoon. Still feeling a bit cheeky, I informed her that there weren’t any wooden spoons in that drawer. She replied that she wasn’t looking for a wooden one.

…Interesting.

A moment later, she pulled out a metal…spatula type thing. I took one look and scoffed: “You aren’t going to spank me with that!” After all, metal implements have never been used, and aren’t likely ever to be used regularly, because I know S would hate it if they cut me in any way. She DID however promptly start smacking my ass with that metal spatula. Not hard enough to do any damage, but definitely hard enough to sting!

A moment later, I was both contrite and content. I love it when she surprises me like that.

Afterwards, she pulled me into her arms. “Better?” she asked.

Oh yes. Much.

Company

We’ve had company for the last week, which is always a challenge for me. You see, my wife and I are private people. One might even go so far as to call us antisocial. Is this good for my mental health issues? Not always, and it’s definitely related to them. But given the choice between spending the evening with a group of friends (even somewhat “close” friends) or curled up on the couch with my wife watching a movie, the quiet night pretty much always wins out. But a good online friend of ours has been going through some hard times, and feeling really alone, so we invited her here for a week (we had previously verified that she wasn’t an axe murderer, so no worries there).

One up side of this, was the nights. Our bedroom is our sanctuary. The place we can talk about, well, anything. Where we can cuddle and I can tell her about feeling anxious, or needing a spanking, or anything. Where we can talk about our dreams and hopes and fears.

I guess there isn’t a huge point to this post. I wanted to update people on what’s going on around here, and I wanted to share what I’m feeling. After a week of little time alone with my wife, I am enjoying the place to ourselves this evening, and marveling at the fact that after years of waiting, I have a safe place, a home to call my own, and in which I can FEEL at home.

Life isn’t always easy. But it is GOOD.