Settling

Last night was, obviously, rough, but I talked to several good friends today and it felt so good to just… to reach out… and meet outstretched hands in return.  It is still alien to me to share my feelings, to accept compassion, to… talk about… my real self.  But it was positive and healing, and for those people and others who are probably wondering, I thought I would update today.  Also, I’m trying to challenge myself to write every day.  Writing a journal/blog post isn’t exactly my ideal of “writing every day” but I suppose when my baseline is “writing never” I will have to accept that any bar at all is a step in the right direction.

Sir supervised my writing last night, and I’d told him what I was thinking before that as well, but he was and has continued to be in full access to my thinking and processing about the events of last night.

A friend I was talking to today asked me to recount what happened… and as Sir has been working on me… I tried to give her “facts not thoughts” which she found helpful, so I’ll practice it again here.  Note:  thoughts may not reflect reality, or may be inferences of reality that are not shared by another viewing the same reality…

So last night…  Sir asked me to get up and take my pills and start getting ready for bed (it takes me a long time these days).  I grumbled and curled up in the chair (becoming more and more common response, embarrassingly).  Sir did something in the kitchen then came back and told me again, more firmly, that it was time to turn off the TV, take my meds, and start getting ready for bed.

I don’t think I even responded that time (can’t remember).  But he finally came across the living room and slapped the side of my leg (I had my feet pulled up onto the seat of the chair so I was in a ball) and said, “Up!  Now!”  He didn’t hit me terribly hard, he didn’t use a terribly mean tone, just firm and insistent.  But I just abruptly felt so fragile and so overwhelmed that I came up out of the chair and put my palm against his shoulder and shoved him backwards while screaming… I don’t even remember the words… but something about how I can’t do this.

For a split second his eyes went wide and he took another step back (beyond what I pushed him) and held one hand up in the air between us… like… as if to be non-threatening.  And that… just felt like it broke everything in me.  So I ran halfway down the stairwell and sat in the dark and cried.

Sir came down and sat with me, but didn’t touch me for a few minutes and finally I came back up with him to the living room and we sat on the couch together and I said that I was a terrible submissive.  He said he didn’t think so.  I said I broke his trust because the only reason he feels safe being dominant with me is because I don’t interpret it as abuse and now I made him think I interpret him as abusive and he wont’ feel safe with me anymore.  And he said, no, that wasn’t what happened.  He said that what happened was he misjudged my emotional state and made a mistake in how he handled it.  I reacted to it and defended myself (which he was proud of and happy to see) and everything is fine.

I didn’t believe him.  In my mind I thought that if he WAS afraid of me thinking he was abusive, that is exactly what he would say to try to make me feel safe and not escalate me more…  I told him so.  He said I would have to believe him and not myself.

I asked if he would tell me if he was worried about that (me seeing him as abusive) when I was in the middle of melting down and he said… probably not, but he’d tell me when I was calm and safe and we’d solve it.  So I could trust him.

I went to bed still believing he was lying to keep me calm and was actually deeply hurt by the incident.  He continued to deny that was the case.

This morning I got up and we had breakfast, etc.  I was tired, but more calm.  Then Sir brought me to the bedroom and punished me for last night…  Not for pushing him or screaming or melting down, but for being difficult and not taking care of myself (not eating lunch, not taking my pills, staying up too late the night before, etc.)

In my mind I feel like some people would judge that choice on his part… that… I’m fragile and dying and… we just had a meltdown and trust was questioned… he shouldn’t have punished me.  Or… that I’m not accountable for my failures right now because I’m so overwhelmed and it was unfair to punish me when I’m in this state.

But… I don’t agree with those things.  Not because I’m a masochist and hate myself, and not because they might not be completely valid points for someone else or at some other point, but this morning, it was the right choice.  It was the right choice for me.

Of course, in my brain, I thought, he was just doing it to reassure me that our relationship hasn’t changed (which probably IS why he chose to do it) and to make my brain calm down and stop spiraling (which is ALSO why he chose to do it), because he was trying to cover up his own discomfort so I wouldn’t keep worrying about it (he claims he has no discomfort to cover up and we’re fine…)

I spent most of today still thinking that way, but that voice was less strong and the possibility of me being wrong about it remained equally strong in my head.  And that is improvement.  That is really what the punishment helped do.  It helped settle my brain a little bit… not even in an emotional way, in a literal chemical way.  I was miserable and unhappy being punished (though it wasn’t horrible, it could have been a lot worse).  I was in pain for a couple of hours and tender the rest of the day…  And I could let go.  I could let go of gnawing over and over what happened last night.  I could let go of gnawing over and over whether Sir is lying about how he feels about me right now…  I could just… be more at peace.

And I got a lot of work done.  I helped with cooking and did dishes.  I folded laundry and cleaned up the bedroom.  I texted with one friend and talked to another on the phone…  And I feel… if not happy… at least closer to peaceful than I have in a while.

The paddle stayed on the bed all day (I didn’t notice until I brought the laundry upstairs), but it hasn’t been used again, though the threat of it has been used several times today.  But… for the first time in a while… that threat is motivating.  I found inertia starting to set in after one of my breaks, Sir told me to get back to work a second time and asked if I needed more swats to help me (asked this sincerely, not in a threatening way, even though it’s totally a threat!)  And I was able to sincerely say, “No, Sir!” and get up and get back to work.  I honestly did not want more of that.  And it was… weirdly… nice to have that inside of myself.  That ability to make a decision and act, to move when I told myself to move.  To even be able to tell myself to move.

Sometimes I wonder if I just need that pain every so often to keep it fresh in my mind, to offer my brain an alternative that is unpleasant enough for it to grab onto for motivation when nothing else seems to cut through the fog and depression.

Some people might think it was the wrong choice… but it made everything work again.

And some people have asked me how “punishment” really works in my relationship, being that I’m an adult… and science says punishment is ineffective in changing behavior anyway, and etc.  But sometimes, as an adult, “punishment” gives me a foothold against the quicksand of my brain.  It is like something concrete.  Like a rung I can get my feet on and at least stop sinking for a moment.  It can be a reset button.  It can simply be endorphins to interrupt the process when my brain is trying very hard to kindle.  I don’t like it… not this aspect, although we do play with pain in other ways, this is specifically an unpleasant context and experience.  I get butterflies and a sinking stomach when I know it’s coming.  I sometimes feel ashamed and embarrassed and sad for some time afterwards, and sometimes even anxious and fearful.  But… somehow… not in a lasting way.  Not in a way that sticks.  Not in a way that lingers in my psyche and makes me traumatized.

Somehow the negative fades and the net result of it is a better life.  For a few hours, for a day.  And one better day can help the next one, and the next.  Or, maybe the effect will fade and I’ll sink back.  But… I won’t stay there, I have a tool, that can give me that foot up again and again… as often as I need to take advantage of it.

I think I lose track of that when things get hard and I tend (and I think Sir does to) to start thinking that punishment would be harmful, it would drive me further down when I’m already struggling, that I need more slack instead of punishment.  But maybe that is wrong thinking for me.

There are definitely times I know that physical punishment would be damaging… but they are more acute moments of trauma than longer-term phases of depression and stress.

I guess it bears more exploration.

Sir says, “Good thinking, tonight.  Time for bed.”

The paddle is still out and I’m not sure what that means.  My belly is tight and I’m nervous.  But… I will survive whatever happens, and… I will… be better for a while.

I’ll take “for a whiles” for a while.

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