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.

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.

…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.

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.

Why do I enjoy TTWD? What do I get out of bending over for my partner to whack away at me? And why do I crave it when it’s not happening?

As others have said, it is incredibly cathartic for me. I’m sure there is some accuracy to the psycho-babble-sounding theory that I have some kind of guilt complex, and a need to be punished. Damn right I have a need to be punished. Perhaps even a “guilt complex.” Could counseling “fix” it? I doubt it. Nor, frankly, am I interested in being “fixed.” So while I may have a guilt complex, my self-esteem is doing okay.

Dark Musing fussed a little at one of his commentators for saying that she wasn’t a masochist, but liked to be spanked. I find myself relating strongly to that concept, though! I don’t feel like a masochist. I don’t like pain, not even erotic pain. I don’t particularly thrive on it (though I’m perhaps more masochistic than the average joe, in that, under certain circumstances, I CAN get a rush from it, and find that ever-dreamed of subspace). What I DO like, and what I DO thrive on is feeling that someone else is in charge. Submission.

Spanking is one of my most direct ways of knowing that I am submitted to another’s authority. I am bent over, in a somewhat humiliating (or at least HUMBLING) position, awaiting (and then experiencing) the crack of a belt, or that slap of a hand, or the thud of a paddle. The pain is not fun. The pain hurts. Many times, I want it to stop.

When I am being spanked, not only am I very clearly NOT in charge, but there is a feeling of intimacy with the one who is spanking me. There I am, vulnerable, and deserving of punishment. The lash is a mercy, and I submit to it at her will. I will feel no pain, but that decreed by her. I will be punished, but it will be at her will, and no more (and no less) than SHE determines I should take. There is a tension between her protection and her punishment–she who would never hurt me is causing me pain, and something about that tension makes me feel incredibly loved. She, who would never hurt me, loves me ENOUGH to cause me pain, to do for me that which I cannot do for myself.

I am free. Free from decisions, from guilt, and I am freed by HER; I trust her to do what is needful, and as she does so, I am made safe.

Well, I waxed a bit more romantic there than I meant to. And after all that, I’m still not certain I captured the heart of this.

You see, somehow, when my wife is spanking me, as I gasp, and whimper, and she strokes my back to comfort me, even as she brings the belt lashing down again, I find a haven that I have never in my life known, and all my life dreamed of. There, in my most vulnerable moment, I am safest. Exposed, and loved. Spanked and cherished. THAT, is something I value in a way I can’t put words to.

The last couple of times, though, have been…different. I haven’t been doing my journaling daily. And I don’t WANT to, and there are moments (like, when I’m bent over the back of the chair, waiting for that belt to crack across my bare ass) that I resent HAVING to. The belt HURTS. It hurts when I’m laying on pillows on the bed, and it hurts more when I’m bent over the back of the chair. We’ve also added in punishments where I am forced to use a vibrator on my clit for period of time without orgasm and let me tell you, 22 minutes is a LONG time. 1000 sentences is a lot of sentences. These punishments aren’t FUN, people.

That’s the difference, I think. And it’s a GOOD difference. I know that S will spank me, and I know it will hurt, and I know that I am going to be thoroughly punished. And that DOES motivate me more to journal, to work on my cognitive behavioral therapy homework.

But there’s something else I’m wanting to get at, also. Sometimes, it feels arbitrary when S will punish me. Sometimes, it doesn’t happen on a set schedule like I want it to. Sometimes *gasp* she doesn’t punish me in exactly the way *I* expected or think she should. swan made the point that once she shares a fantasy with her Top (sorry, swan, I’m not sure how you refer to Him, but I mean no disrespect!), it’s not hers anymore. It’s His. That struck a chord with me relating to this as well. Once I asked S to take charge of me, that desire becomes HERS as well. The whole point of this is that I’m not supposed to get what I want–me doing what I want is what leads me to the undisciplined, selfish behaviors I don’t like in myself. No, I’ve asked her to be in charge. And if she only ever did what I wanted, I don’t think I would be able to recognize her authority in my life.

So next time I’m standing in the corner, naked and furious that I have to stand there, I’ll try to remember that–this is what I really want, and THIS, this moment when I have to stand here when I DON’T want to, is how I know that I am Hers, always.

It’s shocking, I know.

I didn’t do my journaling for a couple days, or work in my anxiety/CBT book AND I didn’t keep my appointment with my counselor. So I got assigned 200 lines, and I then Mate made me turn and face the fridge (I was already naked) and put my hands on it. I protested, feeling a little awkward and exposed there in our kitchen, but she seemed unmoved (go figure).

Then she gave me 10 smacks to each cheek with her hand, which I admit, wasn’t TOO bad, though it did sting.

Unfortunately, I still didn’t journal or work in my anxiety/CBT book that day either. So I found myself over her lap getting a far more vigorous spanking (though still with her hand, thankfully!). About 40 smacks to each cheek, I think, and it DID hurt quite a bit more. It’s been awhile since I was actually over her lap being punished! But it came right back to me–that feeling of security, the knowledge that I was being kept well in hand, and oh yes, the STINGING in my backside. All intimate, all moments of love between my mate and I. A (somewhat) painful lesson, and a reminder that she won’t allow my disobedience, and will require me to take care of what is hers.

You’d think that would have taught me, but I broke the same rule again yesterday. I don’t know yet if she’s going to notice, or if I’ll get in trouble for it, since we did have kinda a rough night that included a bit of a mental overload for me (which, in retrospect, might not have happened had I been journaling regularly and working in my CBT book, but, really, is now the time to apportion blame??? I say no).

I did finish my sentences, however. *preens*

Dark Musing made some interesting points on his blog that intrigued me enough to explore the concepts myself.

He suggests (and will hopefully correct me if I misrepresent him in any way) that one of the primary differences between “Tops” and “Doms” is protocol, specifically, those many protocols that go along with the D/s world. I think to an extent he is right, but I think I might argue that there simply ISN’T enough difference between those two terms to parse them out clearly.

For example–my wife, S, is someone who I frequently refer to as my top. Particularly on domestic discipline discussion forums. However, I do wear a collar, I frequently sit (subserviently) at her feet. While at the local dungeon, I might refer to her as Ma’am, my Top, or possibly my Mistress, but probably not my dominant. And this isn’t because we don’t have protocol–especially at dungeons, she does impose rules on me like not talking unless someone speaks to me, or other things to encourage me to keep my attention on her.

I also don’t think that the spanking community is any “simpler” than the BDSM community. Sure, at a spanking party you’ll put down Top, Bottom, or Switch. But the same thing CAN be true at a BDSM gathering, just with different terms–Dominant, Submissive, Slave, Switch (many people consider there to be a difference between slaves and submissives, and I would agree, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable exploring that difference entirely right now!).

For us, I think we use Top simply to refer to the one who is in charge. I’ve seen it used generically to refer to any, well, Top/Dominant/Master/Mistress, etc. Since TTWD has so many aspects, and so many personal preferences, in our household that word works to simply identify who, in a scene, relationship, scenario is “dominating” regardless of whether that person identifies as a Top or Dominant (though I would of course do my best to be respectful and refer to someone however they preferred once I knew their preference).

I’m not entirely sure these words can (or need to be) clearly differentiated.

So for both my DD and D/s readers, how do you refer to your “Top”? Why?

I have just been really unsettled and anxious lately. I blame the switch in meds. Then I was asked if I’d rather have a spanking or take my anti-anxiety medication, which I definitely got a bit sulky about.

I have a feeling a spanking is coming soon. In fact, if I don’t EARN one soon, I’ll probably ask for one. For some reason right now, I can’t quite ask for one. Dunno if I’m just not sure I want one or what.

By the way, in case anyone wonders, the dog seemed completely unsympathetic to my corner predicament. I’m not sure she’ll be any MORE sympathetic about me getting my butt whaled on. Disloyal.