Drama averted, times two

One day into the weekend, and yey! no arguments so far. And that's quite an achievement, for us, at least compared to the last week or so.

There's been two times when it was close, where I could see myself standing on the road toward catastrophe, hysteria and all-out fighting, and actually managed to take a different path. It's really cool to see that it does matter what I do, that I can influence things, and that it doesn't stand between either blowing up and start fighting, or completely violate myself and my needs. It really doesn't, even though that's often what I think when we do fight.

This time, I managed to think and feel and wait before reacting, and keep some compassion and rational thought even though I was afraid and upset, and it does a world of difference.

Yesterday, I had been messaging on Facebook with my friend I. who had asked randomly for things to do in the evening. I had offered her beer and tacos in front of the teve at our place, and she had predictibly turned me down - it's quiet a long bike ride from her place to ours, and she said she was too tired. I wished her luck with her evening activities and thought no more of it.

And then, while Mistress was reading little S bedtime stories, she called my cell and asked if it was ok if she came over for a cup of tea. She was feeling better, and really wanted the company. It was late, we were tired, I know Mistress doesn't like to change her plans on short notice, and there was no way for me to ask her, since she was in the bedroom with little S and disturbing them would mean upsetting the baby right before bedtime (that's a bad idea). I realised I was screwed.

One factor in this is that our friend is recently divorced - they were the only other D/s-couple we really hung out with, but it's been going steadily dowhill for them the last two years, and he moved out last Saturday. I wanted to talk to her, and I really wanted her to feel welcome at our place. So I said "yes, of course", hoping she didn't notice the micro-second pause before I said it, and started to worry about Mistress' reaction.

When it was my turn at the baby-handling, I told her I had written her a note on my laptop. There I described the situation, apologised and explained my thinking. I was really nervous, and really hoping she'd pop her head in and give me a thumbs up when she'd read it but she didn't. When I came out, she had started her job computer, and seemed really displeased. I kneeled before her, and waited for the verdict, and yes, she was pretty ticked off. She was disappointed, she said, she had been looking forward to a whisky and some teve-time with me, but if I. was coming she preferred to spend the time working rather than hang out with us.

I tried to tell her she could have whisky and teve even though we had company, but she dismissed the idea, and then little S came trudging out of the bedroom, flicking all lightswitch as she went, and loudly calling for Mistress. Our conversation ended there, with me still kneeling on the floor, and as Mistress tried to coax the hyper two-year-old back in to bed, I fell into a well of panic and despair. 

I was so angry. A thousand furious thoughts flew through my head, about how unfair it was, how cruel Mistress was, how I couldn't stand her way of being angry with me, how I was trapped and never could do anything right in her eyes, about how hopeless everything was and how much I hated my life. In a time shorter than a second, I was well under way towards full out rage. The combination of nervousness, shame and discomfort coming from Mistress' being less than pleased with me became in my mind insufferable emotional torture.

Which is pretty much the thing that always happens every time I feel like I haven't managed everything perfectly, especially when it comes to human relations. (It used to be true about everything. But nowadays, I can almost stand critique regarding at least some areas of my life.)

I sat still, remaining on my knees. And then I tried a mindfullnes-technique I've learned in school. Still with the almost unbearable feeling of worthlessness and utter hopelessness, I noticed one thing my eyes fell on. I tried to find words for it, naming it and describing it in my mind. And then another one. And one more. The despair kept on, hitting me with relentless waves.

Then I started listening, hearing the whisper of my laptop, my own breathing, and random sounds outside our apartment. I shifted my attention to things I was feeling, and apart from the crushing, choking feeling and pain around my chest and throat, I also became aware of the way my knees felt against the hardwood floor, and the way my hands rested in my lap. And then I started all over again, two things I saw, two things I heard, two things I felt, and then another cycle, with only one of each. And when I was down to the last thing I felt, the utter despair had abated.

Feelings are like that, I have finally learned. Focus your attention on them and the thoughts they generate, and you can easily whip yourself into frenzy (at least if your me). Focus your attention on them by trying not to feel them, by defending yourself and denying them, and they sneak up on you and poison everything. Relax, let them be, focus on other things without fighting - and they ebb away, like the sea at low tide.

When I was done, I walked outside and sat on a bench on the patio for a few minutes, and when eventually the low temperature forced me back inside, I was calm, composed and full of compassion for Mistress, fully understanding her decision to spend the time working instead of chit-chating with a friend she didn't invite. I realised, too, that she hadn't actually said I had made the wrong decision - simply that she was sorry over what we lost (as was I, for that matter) and that she intended to do the best she could in the situation at hand.

As it were, me and I. had a nice time on the sofa with a cup of tea, but I got really sleepy really fast, and after half an hour or so, she got on her bike home again. There were still time for some teve and a small whisky, and Mistress wasn't disappointed anymore. We had a nice cuddle before bedtime, and everything was right in the world. There were no disaster, no tension, no half-hidden conflict exploding the second the guest was out of the door. There were just us, being our tired selves, offering tea and a bit of company, but not entertaining in any big way. And I'm so happy I managed to regain my composure and trust, instead of acting out.

The other time was this morning, when we tried to get little S ready for an outing with me before lunch, and I tried to put her clothes on, didn't find her trousers, asked Mistress for them, and when she didn't go get them right away (because she was putting on socks on very small feet kicking at high velocity) I barked an angry "Now!" at her.

Yeah.

Not a big slave-moment there.

I was trying to convey some sort of urgency, because little S was wriggling her way down from my lap, and I was afraid that if she managed to reach the floor, any attempts of getting her back would be futile. I thought Mistress knew were the pants were and I didn't understand why she didn't simply hand them to me. But no, that's no defense. That's only rationalising.

And usually when I screw up like that a few things happens very fast: I realise I've been bad. I feel ashamed and a little afraid. That makes me insecure, which in turn makes me angry. I go from "uh-oh" to "fuck off!" in half a second, give or take, and when Mistress catches up and realise she's just been snapped at, I'm in full combat mood, ready to defend myself against any accusation. Understandably, Mistress reacts with disappointment, hurt and mistrust, which I then mirror, and here-we-go-again...

This time, I apologised, heartfelt and sincere. I kept on being humble and apologetic even when Mistress didn't immediately forgive me. I weathered her unhappiness and didn't defend myself. And when Mistress concluded "I suppose your back is hurtin again, since you act this way?" I answered that no, I was simply being a bitch. Which earned me a playful slap (which would have been anything but playful had we been alone) and then everything, again, was right in the world. 

Later on, during litlle S's nap, we talked it over, and she delivered two very non-playful, and very deserved, real slaps. Which made me feel owned, and cherished, and forgiven - and also, as if someone rather strong just hit me two times hard on my cheek.

I hope that in time, we will get out of these kind of vicious emotional loops altogether. For now, I'm really proud of my part in defusing situations that not so long ago most likely would have led to ugly arguments and loss of trust from both sides. I'm slowly growing up.