Category Archives: Acceptance
Recently, I’ve been talking a lot about what I’m currently going through because that’s where I am. In my last post, I opened up and shared what happened a year ago. What I’ve been through takes up a lot of my time as I try to focus on recovering from the past, being okay with the present, and moving forward.
Today, I want to remember some good things. Looking back, May 2014 was a big month for me. On May 1st, I had worked up the courage to email Bonnie from the My Bottom Smarts blog. I had just finished reading her entire archive and it was the first time I reached out to anyone who talked about spanking as much as I wanted to talk about it. From her blog, I found links to several others. As I started exploring, I found a whole community of people who talked about everything from personal relationships to every day life to how they felt about and incorporated TTWD into their lives. A whole new world started to open up.
On May 5th, I wrote my first kink-related blog entry to introduce myself. I had no idea who would read it or what would happen. I just knew that I wanted to share my experiences and maybe find some friends out there. I had fun with it. I shared stories or books that I came across. I shared the fun kinky sex experiences. I shared things that I was hoping would happen. I shared the death of Tom’s dad and his resulting relapse into drug addiction. Then, I disappeared for four years, came back, and have been sharing some of what it’s like to slowly recover from being in love with an addict. I continue to share because I miss this community and because I hope sharing might help others.
On May 23, 2014, I reached out to someone who would end up helping me through some of the darkest times I’ve had in my life so far. At the time, she had already found my blog and commented on some of my first posts! (Talk about being really excited to be noticed by someone so amazing!) I had just finished reading her autobiography and was working through her blog archive when I sent my first email to Erica. I had no idea how important this first correspondence would be. Last year, I only texted two friends the day after I told Tom to move out – Erica was one of them. As my anxiety and depression grew into something I could no longer control and keep bottled up, she was there to virtually hold my hand, calm me down, and walk in circles repeatedly through the things that were consuming me. She encouraged my switch to weekly therapy and helped me open up. She knows everything about me. And would you believe it? She has never left my side. She was there and is still there every day. Our friendship means the world to me.
Going forward, these are the memories that I want to hold on to as I start to find myself again and let go of the past. As this month closes, I am ready for new experiences and new memories. It is time.
I honestly don’t know what I could possibly say that hasn’t already been said in other reviews. But, I decided I wanted to say something.
I first read Erica’s autobiography in May of 2014. I had come out as a spanko to my boyfriend and was just venturing into the online spanking community. After finishing her book, I emailed Erica, “I want to tell you that I think you are truly an amazing person. You have overcome a lot of rough trials during your life, and instead of hiding in a corner, you have been strong enough to continue living life and trying many new and different things that make it worthwhile. I am 26 years old and am amazed to find that I am not alone in the world. It is great to find out that others enjoy spanking like I do. I find that you are someone with whom I can connect even across the miles. I really hope that I can be as courageous as you have been (and still are). I enjoyed getting to know you through your book and I am now slowly catching up through your blog archive. I love that you are open and honest and that you put your real self into whatever you do. Seeing that we are all real people with real lives and real problems somehow makes it easier to deal with our own situations whatever they may be. We all have highs and lows, and we can all help see each other through both the good and the bad times. We all have a journey to make and meeting people like you help make it worthwhile.”
Six years later, I’ve gone through a bitterly rough breakup (from the boyfriend mentioned above) that has left me trying to find my way through grief, denial, PTSD, anxiety, and depression. I recently decided to pick up Late Bloomer and dive back into its pages. I find myself in a different place this time around, and I realize I didn’t quite appreciate everything that Erica had shared, gone through and survived, until now. In the final chapter, she writes, “…if any part of it strikes a chord, gives someone food for thought, provides a degree of comfort, or makes even one person feel less alone in dealing with struggles and challenges, then my efforts are further validated.”
Erica, my dear friend, you have done all that and more for me by sharing your life’s experiences through your book, your blog, and your emails over the years. Getting to know you and having the opportunity to develop our friendship has been so worthwhile and such a privilege. For all of that and for everything that makes you who you are, I am truly grateful and honored to have you in my life.
So, this is my 100th post for this blog. I had thought about sharing fun posts from the past, but instead, I’m going to stick with being open and honest. I warn you that this post is long and emotionally raw…this is me and this is where I am today.
Last night in therapy, I was actually able to breakdown and cry for the first time in months. I’ve mentioned before that I have the ability to appear strong and stoic. With my friends and family, I haven’t shed a tear in person since all of this happened…my eyes have watered, but not a single tear escapes. I don’t typically cry easily, but I’ve also never had a problem crying before. I cried a lot during the last few years in my relationship with Tom (both in front of him and not) and also for the first couple of months after the breakup, but only when he would come over to get his stuff. Then, suddenly, I just stopped and couldn’t cry anymore. I still hurt like crazy, but no longer had a way to release it.
I told my therapist that I have been experiencing some rather painful heartbreak again over the last week. She caught me off guard by asking me how I knew exactly what it was that I was feeling and to describe it. (Umm, because it hurts?) But, I took a moment and thought about it. It physically feels like my heart is breaking. It’s how I felt right before I started telling her about everything that was going on. She asked if I thought it was also loneliness. Yes, I do. But, it’s also the same type of really intense pain I get when I’m holding on to too much, like when I’m holding back what I’m feeling because I’m trying to not be a burden on someone. It’s all of that type of pain.
I told her about the concert, which I had written about in my last post, about how I couldn’t feel anything except disappointment. She asked if there is anything I could think of that I want to do that would make me feel good. I told her, “No, not at the moment.” I’ve gotten into a light exercising routine recently and that isn’t even helping me feel better. Her next suggestion was to try walking into a room and pretending to be happy to see if it forces a change in your mental state? Seriously?! Every damn day, I smile at everyone I meet, and it’s not like I walk into meetings as if the world is going to end. No one knows what I’m going through at work. My parents don’t even know how bad I feel. And, no, faking it does not help improve my mood. This is how I stuffed things down for so long.
I have also still been experiencing bouts of moderate to severe anxiety. One time this week, it was triggered by Tom’s step-sister texting me. We’ve always gotten along. She was being nice, and she’s very sorry for what happened. Unfortunately, she will always be tied to memories with Tom. And, I guess sometimes it is harder to talk about him. Another time within the last week, it was triggered by revisiting some old emails to a dear friend where I had just started going into detail about what happened. Apparently, I can no longer look at what happened objectively like I have been doing this entire time. Additionally, I seem to be experiencing general anxiety around the same time every evening somewhere between 6pm-9pm. The meds I have are as needed, so I typically take 1-2 half tablets a day…assuming I don’t stubbornly decide to not take anything.
Then, I decided to bring up the new video game that I am trying to use as a distraction. It’s called God of War on PS4, and it has a good, emotionally involved storyline. Now, I won’t go into all the details of the game because I don’t know how many of you are gamers, but I do want to mention something that I noticed. My mind treats everything like a logical puzzle to solve, as such, you just need the right pieces to see the big picture or to find the right keys that fit into the correct locks (like an escape room). So, why would a video game be any different? Typically, in these role playing games, you have a map. When you first start out, the map is covered in fog or obscured in some way. All you know is where you are. As you meet other characters, you are given advice, items/tools that will help you, and hopefully a direction. So, you head off and slowly the map opens up as you meet new characters, take on more tasks, and finish side quests as part of a bigger main adventure. As you reference your map, you see where you’ve been, you know where you are, and you are more comfortable with the direction in which you’re going because of the choices you’ve made. I told my therapist that I am stuck where the map is covered in damn fog – I don’t have pieces or keys or a direction to go in! I have ideas and thoughts about what to do and what to plan, but I feel like everything I try isn’t working and I have no idea what to do about it.
Therapist: Yes, you do. I’ve told you we can do accelerated resolution therapy, EMDR, or a couple of other exposure therapies. That’s how we treat PTSD. (At this point, I’m thinking – yes, and I finally agreed to try those even though I have my reservations…but I have no idea what you’re waiting on.)
She went on to describe a situation where someone wasn’t able to process the grief of losing her first husband and it was now affecting her current marriage, but with EMDR, she was able to process and finally move forward. Then, she mentioned another situation where someone lost a child after a horrible accident while they were on the way to the hospital in a helicopter.
Therapist: Why do you think this mom wouldn’t want to try to treat her PTSD?
Me, I know this answer very well: Fear. She’s afraid to feel. She’s afraid to experience the loss of her son all over again. She’s afraid to forget. Fear. I realized through some help from friends a couple of months ago that fear has too much control over me.
Therapist: Do you know when people are finally ready to try something different?
Therapist: When it finally affects every part of their life – home, work, when they are with friends, and when they’re alone..
Me: Well, hell, I’m at that point…been there for a while.
Me: I wish I could just allow myself to be angry at Tom. I always told him I didn’t want to be angry with him, so it’s something I always tried to push down.
Therapist: Why do you think being angry would help?
Me: Because it helped me get over my first long-term, long-distance boyfriend. I was angry with him for being more and more disrespectful, for not choosing to move closer for a couple of years (he stopped one class and finishing his thesis shy of graduating grad school), and for not considering what I wanted out of life. There were other factors that made me see I did not need to put up with him, so I ended it. Hah, then I met Tom two years later, and we see where the hell I am now.
Therapist: So, you said that you would cry and get angry with Tom whenever he would finally get home…
Me: Yes…he would pull up under the tree in the front yard so my parents wouldn’t know when he was coming or going. (They can see my driveway from their house.) He would walk up to the door, and I was always there to meet him. By the time he would finally walk in the door, I was relieved that he was alive and not in jail. Sometimes, I could patiently wait on him to tell me what happened. Sometimes, I would be crying and yelling at him. He knew what was going on with me. He watched me change from trusting him to being in so much pain, fear, anxiety, and sadness. There were times when I wanted to flip the latch on the door and not let him in.
Therapist: You really have won the award for being the most enabling person in the world. (I nod in complete agreement to this statement.) You had a choice when he finally would come home. What were your choices?
Me: I could do what I did and let him in, or flip the latch and kick him out.
Therapist: Why didn’t you flip the latch?
Me, Shit. I do not want to admit this answer aloud. (eyes start watering): Because…(starts crying)…because I knew he wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t choose me. I knew that then.
(Pause…after all, I hadn’t cried in front of her before…)
Therapist: What would you have said to a friend if she called you and just told you what you told me?
Me, I know this answer too…because…this is what I’ve been holding out hope for. (Please note: I am not trying to put pressure on or make anyone feel bad. Everyone who has been there to support me through this has done everything they can, and I fully appreciate everything you guys can do.): I would tell her, “Honey, hold on. I’m on my way over.” (crying harder) I’d tell her that you are not alone, and you do not have to do this alone. I’ve got you. I am right here.
Therapist: But, what if she tells you it’s not you that she wants.
Me: I’m there as one friend supporting another. And…this is what I want, what I need… People don’t want to feel so alone. They want to know and feel that someone is there. To have someone there while I feel this. (So, I don’t have to be strong for once.) I knew, on some level, Tom wasn’t going to come back to me. I…was so angry at his dad for dying. (more crying)
Therapist: That event is probably what started it, but Tom continued to use drugs and then it altered his thinking so much that he is not who he was before.
Me: Yes, but he had a choice before it completely took control.
Therapist: You’re right. He did have a choice, but he chose drugs. You knew about his history and a bit of his family history. Why didn’t you just walk away from him in the beginning?
Me: Because he wasn’t entirely truthful about how much drug use was in his history. But, besides that, I fell in love with what he did and who I thought he was. Our first date, we didn’t even eat. We talked so much. We spent every afternoon together, then we slept over on weekends. He would make me lunch, and we would eat at his jobsite. (crying again) I never had to ask where he was or who he was talking to because he told me. We were open about everything. He knew when I was upset. He could just tell if I was holding something back. (crying even harder) I had been more honest with him than I had with anyone in my entire life. He could hug me, and I felt loved and safe. And, he just threw me out with the trash.
At this point, the hour was up, and we needed to leave. She looked at me as we walked each other out, “well, you can’t say you haven’t cried in a while anymore.” I smiled shyly, feeling just a little lighter, “I guess you’re right there.”
As I finish typing this up, my anxiety is most definitely still present. I know I’m still a long way from completely moving on, but I think this was a breakthrough step in my book. When I tweeted about last night’s therapy sessions, I didn’t expect it to even be noticed let alone receive the likes and replies. I am truly touched by the support I’ve been receiving. Thank you all so much…as someone whose self-worth has taken a severe hit, it really means the world to me. ❤️
In the past, if anyone asked me how things were going, I always tried to sugarcoat or gloss over the negative stuff to protect Tom. I didn’t want to worry people, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I always hoped that he would come back to me and together we could fix things. I was also in denial.
To this day, I’ve always felt some degree of denial. Even when I first started reaching out to a couple of friends about what had been going on, I still felt that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Their responses and encouragement to tell my therapist what happened very slowly started to open my eyes – none of what I went through, what I had been living with, or what I was dealing with was normal or remotely okay. Up until that point, I was only feeling the direct impact of Tom’s actions, particularly when he wouldn’t answer his phone or would come home really late (after midnight or sometime the next day). Everything else (stupidly) didn’t matter to me…including his drug use, the money he was spending, and the emotional turmoil he was constantly putting me through.
When I finally started opening up, I was never actually able to breakdown and cry. My eyes have watered, but I never felt a release or even allowed myself to really feel everything. There was relief that I could talk about things – that I was no longer keeping everything to myself, but there was still a lot of denial, numbness, heartbreak, and lack of being at peace. There is a lot of stuff I still haven’t fully processed – complicated grief, anger, fear, more pain than I care to admit, etc.
In addition to being in denial, I also felt very dissociated from events. I could describe every situation with very little emotion – in some dark way, I could even joke about a lot of it, like “can you even believe that happened?” Some things might be more of a struggle verbalize, but I’ve still managed to keep my emotions in check.
Things that have been harder to talk about were/are
- feeling like I lost the part of me that finds peace and release in being spanked and taken care of,
- feeling like all I did still wasn’t enough when all I wanted was stability, consistency, and a little attention from the man I loved and thought loved me,
- and begging him to stop doing the things that were tearing me apart (these conversations, I remember vividly).
- It’s also really damn difficult to talk about those moments in the middle of the night when I woke up and he wasn’t there…when anxiety and panic were my only company.
Every time I talk about any of this…I feel like I’m talking about someone else. That person over there went through this – I just watched. Which in some gut-wrenching way makes me feel even more powerless and heartbreakingly guilty because I stood by and did nothing. This dissociation has allowed me to be mostly in control of my emotions and reactions and pretend like nothing is still bothering me.
It’s very difficult to compare situations with others when the reasons that cause PTSD can be so different. For instance, I did not experience sexual abuse, yet I can’t deny that I identify so much with the woman in the following article.
Because I did not experience the same type of abuse, I feel that my experiences were somehow “less than,” and therefore, I shouldn’t feel as bad as she does. But, when the woman in the article describes how she had been dealing with everything, it resonates with me on so many levels, even to this day.
Now, if I compare my situation to the next article which talks about an addicted partner, I feel like my experience was far more severe and involved. I have quite a bit more to deal with because it wasn’t only that he was using drugs.
I know that I shouldn’t be comparing situations at all, but I am too filled with my own self-doubt, self-invalidation, and avoidant coping mechanisms. Sometimes, I don’t even trust my own feelings, and I project that distrust by thinking others won’t care or believe me either. My friends have had to call me out and remind me of what the hell I went through for me to even pause in my self-sabotaging cycle. I had to and still have to be reminded that I need to feel and it is okay to feel, but I’m still too wound up, overwhelmed, and afraid to breakdown that wall.
This next link that I came across is a rather long slideshow for those who are interested. It hits on so many things I can relate to. It is interesting that an addict can have so many narcissistic tendencies – they are really all about themselves when it comes to the drugs and their next fix.
Tom would do all of those emotionally abusive things when we were together, and he was very passive aggressive. He is finally no longer coming around to my house or communicating with me, but the emotional damage runs deep. I haven’t been able to breakout of doing the same emotionally abusive things to myself.
Last week in therapy, we decided to push trying something different to this week. Instead, we talked. How is that different from every other week, you might ask. Well, I still tend to be less emotional and more logical when I talk to people in person. But, this time was different. I was able to talk as if I was writing to her in an email, which is where I’ve always had an easier time expressing myself. I was able to be more open, and we finally talked more about PTSD.
I told her about a recent television episode of 9-1-1 where all of the first responders were in therapy trying to talk about what they were experiencing. They were all dealing or not dealing with various things associated with PTSD. I told her that I could agree with something each one of them said when they were expressing themselves and talking about what they were going through. She said that like those characters, I am going to have to move through and release those emotions. I can’t/don’t know how to do that. I said, “[my therapist’s name], I’m too afraid to feel any of those emotions. I don’t want to do that at work, with my parents, or by myself. I only feel safe trying to do that right here.” She replied, “Well then, we need to get you over there in that chair and start feeling.” I eyeballed the totally normal looking but very exposed office chair and nodded nervously. I think that’s when I added, “I hate how easy it is for me to lie and say I’m okay when I am not okay.”
Guess we’re going to try to feel feelings this week…in that chair…where I can’t sink into the couch or hide behind a pillow. Ugh.
I’ve always tried to be as open and honest as possible without crossing that invisible line of “this is just too personal to share.” I was in a relationship and definitely had to consider his feelings and never wanted to humiliate him by over sharing. Ultimately, I chose to stop sharing entirely. I could no longer see the line and I had no desire to pretend like everything was going great. I pulled away from my support system and focused on what I thought I could do to work on our deteriorating relationship. Since he is no longer physically in my life, I have to start dealing with the emotional and psychological wounds he left behind.
This last week has been one of my more difficult weeks. The anxiety had become overwhelming and unmanageable again. On Wednesday, that gave way to panic. I texted a friend who virtually stayed with me. She had me breathe, told me to eat something light since it was lunchtime, and encouraged me to take a walk around my office building. Slowly, I calmed down enough to attend a somewhat important work meeting. This meeting is what I thought had triggered the anxiety and panic, but that really didn’t make sense because there was nothing expected of me in this meeting. That logic apparently did not matter and I internally lost control. (Believe me, no one, not even my co-workers I work closely with, suspected anything was wrong.) In reality, the meeting went fine, just as expected, but, although I’ve tried to, I should not deny how bad things did get and can get for me.
My anxiety used to be mostly physical and emotional responses – rapid heart rate, shallow and fast breathing, tightness in my chest, tension in my neck, back, and shoulders, and panic. Recently, I’ve noticed something different. The physical reactions are mostly the same, but what goes on in my head has changed. It is no longer only panic and fear. There is now an uncontrollable surge of racing negative thoughts and emotions about myself that completely flood and take over my mind. These things, these personal demons have been with me for a while, but they used to be very quiet. So quiet that I could easily discredit and not be overly bothered by them. That is until everything went downhill with Tom, and they’ve been growing steadily louder ever since.
Here are some of those thoughts (copied and slightly edited from an email I wrote to a dear friend dated 8/28/2019)…
I’ve been trying to figure out how to voice some of my emotional reservations and insecurities that have been whispering in the back of my mind recently. I sort of brought it up with a local friend last weekend, but I don’t think I dived in deep enough. I know I shouldn’t put much stock into what Tom has said to me, but…it’s hard not to listen when things are repeated over and over again. And, I’ve probably mentioned some of these things to you before, so please just bear with me.
1) Being repetitive. One of Tom’s biggest complaints was the number of times I would talk about the same shit over and over again. I would nag him about being late, “obsess” about keeping his phone charged, and remind him about everything multiple times. I heard this so much that now I hesitate and even stop myself when I want to reach out and be honest about how I’m feeling, especially if I’m going through the same things every damn day.
2) Being insecure and too needy. Tom always thought that because I wanted to spend time with him that I was insecure. He thought that I must have some abandonment issues from my childhood or something happened in a previous relationship. He would always mention that we don’t live in a perfect world where everyone is on “Jay’s Time”…that he couldn’t control when he would come home or what would happen during the day, always blaming other people. He also couldn’t understand why I appeared to be this strong and always in control woman, yet I also wanted so desperately to be taken care of and cherished. To be held and comforted. To be able to relax and count on someone else to handle things for a while. Being insecure and needy makes me feel like I’m bugging people to get a little attention for no (good) reason. There are times when I just need a reminder that someone is still there.
3) Being too giving. This one really messes with me. I have always been a giver. I pay attention, especially if I care about you. You may not even think about it, but I catch the little things that you might mention in passing. I make a subconscious effort to know when your birthday is, and I attempt to keep a list of your favorite things. I also make a note if someone says things like, “It’d be great if I had this” or “I really like that.” When I go shopping, I pick out things using my heart that are in some way meaningful, whether it was something they need, something that is thoughtful, or something that’s just funny to brighten someone’s day. I never do any of this because I expect the other person to return the favor or act like they owe me. Tom had told me that his whole family had never met anyone like me, and that they all thought that I wanted something in return for everything that I did for them. Eventually, they realized that this is who I am. Some of them appreciated it and moved on when they could. But, some of them started to take advantage of the situation. Now, you would think that I should have learned to not be so giving and would protect myself…and with respect to strangers, that is definitely the case. But, somehow, what I actually got out of all of that was a strange sense of fear. While I do greatly appreciate and am truly touched by any returned gestures, I don’t want the people I care about to feel obligated to do something for me because I did something for them. I am not trying to manipulate people. I think, I believe that when people feel better about themselves and feel like other people care about them, then they will have better days which can lead to living fuller lives. What if you’re the one person through some act of kindness changed a moment, a day, or started a turning point in someone else’s life. But now, there’s a shadow, a fear that someone will think I’m being weird or overstepping.
4) I guess all of this, in some way, leads back to acceptance. This relationship has cast so much doubt into every aspect of my being. It’s probably the major source that’s feeding my anxiety and depression. In fact, I had another anxiety attack last night. I didn’t say anything to anyone other than tossing up a quick tweet. Didn’t want to bother anyone. I knew it would pass. I did a few breathing exercises that I remembered from my band days, and eventually, I fell asleep with my heart thumping entirely too loudly. I got up a few times during the night but was able to go back to sleep each time. The logical side of me says that this is all temporary and I will move on – just fake it until you make it. The other side of me is running in circles trying to dodge the same obstacles, never staying still long enough to work through anything. I even fight with myself about going to therapy…I want to go, but I feel like I keep wanting to bring up the same stuff, so instead, I try to talk about what is going on at work or the progress that is actually being made rather than me stubbornly not letting go or whatever it is that I’m doing or not doing. Sigh, let’s just stamp “lost and confused” on the file and close it. Way easier than trying to figure out why this feels like I’m carrying around the weight of the world when in reality, this is just a damn breakup, not the fucking end of the world – just get over it. (*shaking my head* I would never invalidate or say that to someone else.)
Adding to all of that are heartbreaking thoughts of being a burden, not being enough, and not being worth anyone’s time including my own.
In counseling tomorrow, I’ve been told that we are going to do something different. My therapist wants to try accelerated resolution therapy (ART) to tackle the anxiety. I am nervous and have no idea what to expect, but I do hope it will help.
Everyone experiences change from time to time. We grow, we age, and we learn. We try something new. We move to a new place. We get a new job. We go back to school. We meet new people. We fall in love. We have our hearts broken. We lose someone we love. We fall down, and we get back up. We try again. We adapt. We gain experience and find out more about ourselves. Some things may never change, while other things evolve with time.
Think about who you were when you were in high school.
I moved across the state between my 9th and 10th grade years. I went from a class size of roughly 300-400 students to around 1,200 students. I was terrified. I was leaving my friends and having to start over in a new town at a new school. What helped with this transition was band. I played the clarinet. During my years with the high school band, we had kids from all walks of life. We weren’t made up of just one group, but every group. I’ve always been pretty reserved and quiet, but in band, I learned a lot about leadership, teamwork, and responsibility. I was the section leader and library staff manager in 11th grade, and then, I tried out and became the drum major (student conductor) for the marching band during my 12th grade year. I learned how to project confidence when giving commands, and I felt like I had a responsibility to be someone the students in my band could depend on. I was the first person on the field before our shows started, and I was the one the entire band looked to for direction.
Think about who you were in college.
I continued band in college and was moved up to section leader after my first year. Again, we had students from all over campus from every type of degree program. I started working on my mechanical engineering degree and math minor. We focused a lot on teamwork and using new technology to solve problems. I decided to try my luck and applied for an internship at NASA. I was accepted and had one of the best summer experiences ever. In fact, I had so much fun that I went back three more times. Twice as a research associate and then I was promoted to Operations Manager for the last two summers. I took several honors classes throughout college and graduated with a 3.29/4.0.
Think about who you were during your early career.
I immediately got a job as a mechanical engineer quoting, designing, and fabricating steel tanks and pressure vessels. Over seven years, I went from mechanical engineer to project engineer to project manager to lead engineering business analyst. I implemented the accounting software which I knew inside and out. I even had to do all accounting manager responsibilities for six months before the company transitioned to a new owner.
Think about who you are now.
Now, I work in project financials. I’ve been with this company for just over a year. I’ve been trying to bring new ideas to the table and implement improvements on all of our current processes. I had an excellent one year evaluation which led to a promotion and a raise.
What have we not talked about? I’ve told you about who the outside world sees. This is the person you would meet at a conference or out in public.
Okay, so who are you when you can relax and be you?
Well, the previous posts on this blog take you through a lot of my intimate experiences with sex and spanking. Tom was the first person who tried to understand what I was yearning for. To his credit, he read every blog entry before I gave up blogging. He also read a private journal where I endeavored to be as open as possible with him. For a couple of years, he tried. And then, he didn’t.
For the time when he was trying, I discovered a part of me that I didn’t know existed. I wasn’t just this confident, strong, responsible, and independent young woman who could solve problems. I was also someone who needed a break from the stress of being the one who was always depended on. I needed someone else to take over for a while. I needed to know someone cared about me. I needed to be held. needed to be able to let go.
When Tom’s dad passed away, I started losing him. I stepped up and went above and beyond because that’s who I am. I am a fixer. I am a giver. I am dependable and loyal. I was more than capable of handling whatever life threw at us because I had to be. I could get us through this. I just had to be strong enough, caring enough, loving enough, and want it enough.
As it got harder and Tom gradually pulled away from me, I pulled away from who I was and what I wanted. I stopped blogging, stopped keeping up with others, and wasn’t even available for my friends anymore. My entire world revolved around Tom, his addiction, and the daily shit he put me through. After I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I told him, “It’s me or all of this (referring to his drug use and the house his drug addict friends were in – he was at another addict’s house in the middle of a work night in my damn car that I needed to get to work in the morning).” He chose, “All of this.” “You need to move out.” (He didn’t make it back home in time to take me to work the next morning. I ended up having to call my dad, so I could be fucking responsible and go to work.)
In August of last year, I wrote something that I considered posting here. But, I was not ready. Instead, I shared it with a dear friend who encouraged me to also share it with my therapist. I’m choosing to bring it up now because I know I am not the only one who has felt this way. In fact, I still struggle with it every day.
I am the person who has done everything my résumé says I’ve done, but what I can’t seem to reconcile is how is that the same person who wrote the following.
“Outer You vs Inner You”
Are the versions of you drastically different? Do you act differently? Do you hide behind a façade?
The versions of me are very different. I do act differently depending on the situation, and I do hide behind a much more outwardly acceptable personality.
At work, by some miracle, I’ve been able to hide what’s going on inside. Instead, I appear confident, ask questions, present ideas, work well by myself and with others, and strive to change things for the better for everyone. Before a meeting where I know I have to speak, I’ll get nervous, but I push through and am not afraid to throw out ideas. I am very mindful of others and how they do their jobs, and I do everything I can to make all of our work days a little easier.
When I’m around family and friends, they know I have some self-confidence issues. However, other than that being all in my head, I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need to rely on anyone. I own my house, I am about to buy a new vehicle, and I have a decent job where I am making more than paycheck to paycheck.
Underneath the Wonder Woman façade, I feel everything. I am free, lost, relieved, sad, excited, hurt, broken, happy, angry, and frustrated. I am dealing with imposter syndrome. I am dealing with a break up after years of living together. I am excited by new possibilities, but I am afraid of rejection. I am vulnerable and full of insecurities. I am hopeful yet still struggling to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
I know it is no one else’s responsibility to help me. I know only I can learn to cope and walk this road. I know it takes time. But, knowing all of that just makes me feel so much more alone. I feel guilty for reaching out to people who understand – I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t want to sound like a broken record – same shit, different day. I don’t want to bring someone else down because I feel like hell. I feel stupid for even talking about what I’m going through because I feel like it really is no big deal especially when I know other people are going through so much worse than my little first world problems. Also, I’m confused because what I feel doesn’t align with how I think I should feel or how I think I should handle how I feel. If I remove myself from the situation, I could tell you exactly what’s wrong, what to try, and how to start working through it. So, what’s the problem?
Avoidant behavior. I am acting like nothing has happened. I do things to prevent myself from thinking too much, and I spend time with people who I do trust but not enough to completely let go around. I am ignoring the desperate need to breakdown and let go. Why? Because it’s easier than dealing with everything. I don’t want to fall apart alone because I miss being held and comforted, which only emphasizes the loneliness and spirals me down even further.
But, you know what? Life goes on and stops for no one. So, if I don’t have time for this – for me feeling sorry for myself, how can I expect anyone else to have time for it – for me.
Who are you today?
I’m not sure. Would you believe things got worse in the time since writing that. I feel like I’ve lost so much self-confidence and self-acceptance that I find it incredibly difficult to trust myself. I have fallen into periods of being depressed and painfully numb. I’ve gone through many anxiety and panic attacks. I still haven’t been able to really focus consistently at work, and I feel like I’m barely doing the minimum to get by. I hit a point where I felt like I lost everything about me. I haven’t even been able to cry in months, and I want so desperately to experience what’s in my pinned tweet with someone I can really trust – “What I wouldn’t give for a wall-breaking spanking, the cathartic release kind of crying, and some “it’s okay – I’ve got you” aftercare, followed by some restful sleep…”
Last week was the first time in a long time where I felt a little hope in the darkness. I held on to that hope and wrote my first blog entry in four years. It’s time to start sharing my story, to try new things, and to continue recovering.
I want to take a moment to thank many of you for the encouragement you have given me since I took these small steps both here and on Twitter. Your support and kindness mean so much to me. ❤️
It’s been four long years since I last posted anything here. I am truly sorry that I pulled away from this part of my life. I stopped blogging, I stopped reading, and I stopped engaging. I’ve been wondering if any of the links that once brought you here are even still available. I cannot promise that I am back with any consistency. I cannot promise that what I do post will always be on that specific topic that connects all of us together in this online community. My self-confidence is in slow recovery mode, and I just don’t know if I’m really ready to be back.
So, what am I doing? Nervously peeking through the crack in the door to see if anyone is still here after all this time.
Why now? I’ve thought about coming back many times, but ultimately anxiety would get the better of me. The desire to reach out was in constant battle with the fear of rejection. Home life became emotionally and psychologically unmanageable, unbearable, and all-consuming. I have been using what little willpower I could muster to continue being responsible by going to work every day. I have been going through most of my days fully dependent on autopilot. I think, I hope that I am finally strong enough to try to do more and to try to find me again.
What happened? To quote what I told a friend back in October after helping her through a particularly rough day, “One of these days, I’ll catch you up on my end. It’ll be a hell of a story.” I have not decided how much I should really share on such a public space. I have a feeling I will inevitably share some things because I am still broken, but I am also healing. Perhaps, by sharing some of my personal experiences, there is a possibility that I will help others. Maybe we can help each other move forward together.
So, for those of you who have been here before, I truly thank you for returning. For those of you who are new, I thank you for stopping by and hope to see you again.
As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments, on Twitter, or through email.
This is a fictional story continued from last week’s post.
My forehead is pressed against the hallway corner and my ass is still warm from the spanking you gave me a few minutes ago. You told me that you never stopped loving me. I do believe you, but I can’t help wondering how you could put me through so much heartache. I was in so much emotional pain when I thought you had been taken away from me. It scares me still to know that you could do something without thinking of the possible consequences and not come home…not come back to me. Why? There’s just no way it could have been worth it to you. I don’t want to go through that again. I want to move passed it and I’m working on it, but you are going to have to help me. I can’t do it alone.
I know why I’m tired a lot and I know why I don’t want to do the things I used to…because you are right – I am afraid. I’m afraid of caring too much and afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of getting hurt – my heart was broken and I’m not back to normal, yet. I still get anxious, angry, and depressed at times.
In hindsight, I stopped doing my normal things (like video games, darts, blogging, etc.) because in my mind they just aren’t worth my time when I could be in your arms where I can still feel protected and like you aren’t going anywhere. That’s where I feel safe. I’m not ready to do other things yet. We are moving slowly and I need that right now. I just wish I knew how to tell you all of this so that you’d understand where I’m coming from, because I’ve never stopped loving you either.
Those moments where I can’t look at you…aren’t because I don’t love you or have stopped loving you or have given up. I can’t look at you because of me…because I truly believe that I am not worth the trouble. My heart, mind, and soul are so fragile right now…why would anyone bother, why would anyone want to take care of, to love, to cherish, to protect me? It’s too much hassle, too much work, too much to ask. So, I look down and cry….broken, weak, and worthless….so much for that strong, independent young woman.
I have no doubt that I will be that person again…maybe not as young and maybe a little stronger, but I do know that it’s going to take time.
You once compared addiction to something like cancer. You asked, “If I got cancer, does that mean you’d stop loving me?” The answer is no. I would still love you if you had cancer. Just like I still love you today. I believe we will get through today for a better tomorrow, but I ask you the same thing…only I’ll compare being broken and afraid to being really sick. Would you leave my bedside and stop loving me?
You often ask me what’s wrong and want me to talk to you, but I don’t want to sound like I’m always nagging and complaining. I don’t want you to get defensive. I don’t want you to think that you’re not doing anything right. I see you trying and I even see you adjusting. The things that I don’t like or would like to change are things that would ultimately protect you, protect us from things that could go wrong and be out of our control. You don’t think we can control others…you’re right, but we can control enough of what we say and do to make a difference.
I don’t want to look back with regret and say, “That’s the day I lost you,” I want to look back with pride and say, “That’s the day we found us again. That’s when we put ourselves and our relationship on the top of our priority list.”
I guess the answer to your question of, “Why have you stopped…?” is so much more than, “I just don’t feel like it, I don’t know, or I’m afraid.”
So, how do I explain this to you? Maybe I need to do something I used to do…I’ll type up a blog entry, then you’ll read it and we’ll talk about it.
From the corner, I call out, “Honey?”
“May I go publish a blog post? I think it’ll help me gather my thoughts.”
After a pause, “Yes, you may, but I better not catch you reading other stories.”
As I turn around to head to the computer desk and start to pass our bedroom door, you arrive with our new leather paddle in hand. “Before you go, why don’t you bend over so I can make sure you’re sitting on a freshly warmed behind while you type.”
Yikes! I bend over with my hands on my knees and he places his hand on my lower back.
He delivers nine solid whacks. Then, he sends me on my way with a kiss.
The cool leather computer chair is actually quite soothing while I start putting together my thoughts.
…to be continued.
Wow, this story that I’ve created with it’s made up corner time actually worked very well for figuring out how to share what I’m feeling.
I used to write stories of events that actually haven’t happened outside of my head. These were usually stories of things that I might have liked to have happened…for instance, if I wanted a conversation to go a certain way between Tom and myself, then I would make up a dialogue and scene to go with it. After reading it, Tom would understand where I’m coming from a little better and then we could have a conversation about it. This is one of those stories.
“Come with me.” Your expression tells me I shouldn’t argue, and you hold out your hand expectantly.
I’m not exactly sure what to think. Slowly, I reach out and you take my hand. You turn and you pull me toward our bedroom. You take me to the bench at the end of our bed and sit down before pulling me over your lap. Lots of emotions are running through my head – anxiety, excitement, slight confusion, and yes, even a little fear.
You rest your left hand on my waist and your other hand starts caressing my bottom. “I think it’s time for a change. You haven’t had quality time over my knee in a while, so I’m going to change that.”
“Umm…” You pop my bottom hard three times, but they don’t really make much of an impression as my jeans are still on.
“All I want to hear from you right now is, ‘Yes, Sir.’”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply quietly.
“Stand up for a minute.” You unbuckle my belt and undo the button on my jeans. Then, you slide them down to my ankles and tip me back over.
You start spanking in a light and playful manner at first. A couple of minutes go by before you say, “I know you miss this.” I nod even though it wasn’t a question. “Lift up a bit, My Love.” He slides my panties down and massages my cheeks. “You aren’t even pink, yet. Let’s try to fix that.”
You start spanking again but harder this time. Another minute or two passes.
“You don’t blog or talk about this as much anymore. Why do you think that is?”
I just shrug my shoulders. The next volley comes hard and fast from your strong hand. “Yes, you do know.”
You pause to grab something behind you. I don’t know what it is, but I have a feeling that I’m about to find out. Smack! “Oh!” It’s definitely made of wood.
Smack! “I think you’re afraid, but I’m just not sure what you are afraid of… Are you afraid of me?”
Smack “No! Ow!”
Smack! “Then, what are you afraid of?”
Smack! “I guess I’m afraid of getting hurt.” You pause and I can tell you are wondering if you are hurting me now.
Rubbing my lower back, you ask, “Does that mean you don’t trust me anymore? That you don’t trust me not to hurt you?”
“I do trust you…I just feel that it’s been so long since we’ve played that maybe my pain tolerance isn’t what it was and you may not remember that I’ll need a warm up. Also, I don’t always want to put any expectations on either of us when it comes to playing. And, I really don’t know how to tell you exactly what I want when I’m not sure myself.”
You start rubbing my bottom again which is starting to feel really good. “I guess it’s just become easier to not say anything whether it’s online, in a journal, or when we’re talking. I know I don’t want this to become repetitive to where either of us get bored….and I don’t want it to always be predictable.”
“Like this?” My rear is met with a quick few swats.
“Mhm… Sometimes I would like a spanking to be for fun or be more serious or be for naughty reasons. Sometimes I’d like more of a warm-up and/or more aftercare.” You throw in three hard and fast swats for each cheek.
“Guilt! Guilt is another reason. I feel guilty for wanting all of this in the first place. I know it isn’t easy for you. I think about spanking a lot and see lots of opportunities for it, but I know you mainly associate it with love making. I don’t want to burden you with something that I think I want…it’s not a need after all.”
You pause again, “Do you like giving blow jobs?”
“You know I told you that I used to hate giving them.”
“But you give me head and do it quite well for someone who can’t stand it. Why do you do that for me?”
“Because I love you and because I know you enjoy it.” You pick up the brush or paddle, again. “Oh! Ouch!”
“Exactly, so what makes you think I wouldn’t do the same for you and for the same reasons?”
“Yikes! Because… I know I’m not worth the effort!” My eyes start watering.
“That’s it. Stand up and look at me.” With tears in my eyes, I slowly look up at you. You hold my face in your hands as you look back at me. “I love you with all my heart. You mean the world to me. You need to stop thinking so badly of yourself.” You pull me in close for a firm hug that makes me feel protected.
“I want you to spend a few minutes in the corner in the hallway by our bedroom door. Put your hands behind your back holding your elbows, feet apart, and forehead against the corner. I’m going to fix the bed and then I’ll come get you. I am sorry that this year has been so rough on us and especially on you. I know it may not have seemed like it, but I need you to know that I’ve never stopped loving you. I want to be here to love, cherish, and protect you forever and always. Use this time to think about what I’ve said.”
“Yes, Sir,” as I turn to obey, he smacks my retreating rear.
…to be continued.
I don’t mean when someone else has called you out or is making you feel that way. I’m talking about feeling embarrassed, guilty, or ashamed before you even open your mouth. I went into last weekend thinking that I was probably going to breakdown and cry at some point. I was feeling emotional (PMS) and felt like I just needed to cry. Well, we went to drop off my step-daughter and had a pretty good weekend which means I never actually had the opportunity or catalyst to cry. We are by ourselves again, so we’ve been taking advantage of the alone time by getting in some fun spankings and making love. We’ve also been taking turns playing a video game which has also been fun, but for some reason I’ve been feeling pretty bummed out since yesterday.
The birth control pill I take usually has me wanting sex more often than normal during the week after my period. That has been me this week. For some reason the combination of wanting more sex and still feeling like I need to cry has me thinking about spanking, or rather being spanked, a lot right now. In recent weeks, I have unconsciously backed off of reading blogs and stories as often as I was because we’ve been busy. We helped Tom’s brother move, we had his daughter with us, and I’ve had to change my hours at work to something more normal (was 6am-2pm and I ate while working, now it’s 7am-4pm with an hour for lunch). I’m still trying to get used to the new routine which is proving a little difficult as it is a change. Also, my attention span or concentration ability isn’t what it used to be especially during the last hour of the work day.
Anyway, you may be wondering how any of this relates to my original topic in the header, “What do you do when you feel embarrassed, guilty, and ashamed of what you want?” It seems with my sudden increase in thinking about spanking, I am also feeling all those things that we tell each other not to feel. I feel embarrassed to talk about being spanked because I don’t know how to explain it. I feel guilty because on top of everything else on Tom’s plate, I want him to take me over his knee if I do or don’t do certain things. I feel ashamed because I’m a damned adult and shouldn’t want to be spanked in the first place.
It’s funny. I thought I had accepted myself. I was even beginning feel like I didn’t need spankings at all. It’s just so frustrating when you can’t explain what you are feeling and why you feel that way. I also don’t want Tom to feel like I’m complaining and that what he is doing isn’t good enough because he loves me and is stepping out of his comfort zone to spank me. I am definitely grateful for what he does and the effort he puts into trying something different for me. And, I don’t blame him when I feel out of whack. After all, I’m the one with the odd kink, not him. Even I think I’m crazy for wanting to be spanked sometimes. (sigh)