May 30, 2012


Exam today, exam tomorrow, my brain is mush.

But next week I have summer holidays, and hopefully wont need to use my frontal lobe at all until September. Or something.

I hope to be able to for once be Mistress' little housewife during June (I have a job starting in July), even though I'm not really good at it. Stepford wifely I'm Bette Midlers charachter before the transformation. "Have you done the dishes?" "No, but I've finished the chapter." I hope a lot of time on my hands, and a sincere will to please may make up for some of my lack of ability.

But mostly, I need to rest, slow down, get healthy and do things that replenishes my energy levels rather than draining them. A lot of free time and summertime and friends will most probably do that.

But first, statistics exam tomorrow. I can't wait...

May 28, 2012

On poly and labels and other things

My dear and also newly divorced friend I. has found a new... well, not boyfriend, because he don't believe in labeling relationships, but that's what I would call it. Hook-up is what they use, but they are very lovey-dovey and always together and fantasize about their future children, so I'm thinking it's a romantic relationship whatever he wants to call it.

Either way, he's poly and a relationship anarcist, with two steady long term other girls, a boy he flirts with and a gang of gay men he hangs out with and presumably fucks when the mood so takes them. Understandably, she's pondering where she fits in to this matrix, and is trying to orientate herself and find her own values and opinions after being married and also submissive in a 24/7 D/s relationship for ten years. They're happy, but it's a bit complicated.

So we've been discussing relationships and needs and labels and values a lot lately, or at least whenever we've had a chance to see each other for a minute. And it's been really interesting for me to figure out my own opinions, regarding my own life (they, of course, do what suits them, I don't meddle in that).

When I was together with my ex-boyfriend, submitting to him, and realised that me and Mistress was in love, that was a potential disaster. We kept our feelings hidden, for ourselves and each other, for a long time because of that. It all came out because of a LARP, actually, were we played characters married to each other in a poly family, it was a SF setting, featuring a society where every marriage was with four people (there was also a 18-hour day, everyone living in biosphere thousands of years in the future on a different planet, and well, it was that kind of story). When we made the decision to try to form a poly-tryad, I think that experience influenced a lot. That, and the longing for a pack, a flock, a family.

That experiment lasted for two years, of which at least one and a half was very very bad. My ex, then my Master, also had the right/privilege to sleep with others, which he did one time towards the end, and I resented it deeply (no matter that I regularly slept with another woman...). Ours was not a healthy dynamic, and my personal experiences with poly is not happy ones.

Even so, when me and Mistress moved in together, and eventually got married, we didn't declare monogamy as the rule. Partly I think because that would be unnecessary limiting. And also, I don't know, it just doesn't feel right. It's not a traditional marriage, since we're both women it couldn't be even if we wanted it to, so we can decide for ourselves. Since we're out of the norm anyway, being O/p and lesbians, everything becomes a choice, and we haven't actively chosen monogamy as a guiding principle.

But what separates us from my friend I. and her new... whatever, is that the decisions regarding sex is entirely onesided. I'm not sure Mistress will be my only sex partner for the rest of my life. In fact, I hope she wont be. But what happens in that regard is up to her, completely. I don't get a say in the matter, and the point is that I don't want to. Thats my desire, that's my lifestyle, that's my choice. I hope she wont be my only sex partner, because I hope she'll someday execute that right and let someone else use me. I don't really have much of a preference about whom, I just want her to use me that way. The same way I want her to whip me or fuck me or hurt me or choke me or anything else she does.

If she want to have sex with someone else that's her right to. If she does it without me, simply because someone else turns her on, I think I'll probably feel a bit insecure and threatened and worry a bit and perhaps be jealous, but I'll also revel in the fact that she's using her rights as my Owner to live a happy and fullfilled life, and I want to believe it would work out alright in the end. If she does it with me present, to make a point or to teach me something or to involve me in a play with multiple partners, I would most probably love it, without worry.

All in all, we end up somewhere between poly and traditional, monogamish as it were. For now, it's only us, and I would be very surprised if we ever move away from the two of us being primary partners, but I wouldn't be surprised if somewhere along the way someone else got involved in one way or another. But the important driving principle is that whatever happens, it's her decision. It's kind of on another axle than the whole poly/monogamy-discussion.

It will be interesting to see where they land, my friend I. and her new one. I think she's fine with the sharing and the poly bit, but I don't think that she'll accept the "no labels" part of the philosophy - it's kind of hard when you've been and owned submissive for ten years, I think. What would we do without our labels?

A reason for the last six months

I think that something happened to me when I got sick in November last year, more than six months ago. I developed pneumonia after a bout of the flu, and all together I had rather high fever and other symtoms for over four weeks. The first week I stayed at home and tried to rest, but the following ones, I tried to cope with things I needed to do in school, and I of course wanted to be a present mother for little S the whole time. I couldn't put my life on hold, quite simply, and pushed on as best I could.

Which I honestly think is an ok strategy when dealing with prolonged illness - sometimes the answer is to rest completely, but more often a bit of activity actually helps the healing process. But to me, this time, it came with a great cost. In order to function and perform to the level I thought I had to, I went back to old habits and old ways of solving things, that I learned as a child and teenager, when I was all alone and noone would listen to me or help me, and the only thing that counted was me doing what was expected of me. I shut down, bowed my head against the wind and trudged on, in the same non-feeling, non-thinking way that I applied then.

The problem is that I can't do that and still be submissive and open to Mistress' control. The key-word here is open. If I shut down feelings and hurt and pain and tiredness I don't want to feel, I also shut down her ability to influence me. I go along, and do as best as I can with the things in front of me, but I stop listening to her - I don't want to listen, I don't want to feel, I don't want to be present in the moment, because the moment becomes intolerable to me. All I do is struggle on and waiting for the pain to pass, essentially for my life to pass. It's not a happy existence, and eventually, it led to depression.

Both then, I've figured out in retrospect that I most probably was clinically depressed both when I was ten (shortly after my parents divorce) and when I was fourteen, and now - in january, I scored for moderate depression on MADRS and was having persistent fantasies about suicide that frighetend me badly. Usually in the shower or when I was nursing little S to sleep in the dark bedroom, I would get images in my head of nooses and about hanging myself from things, and it was really really creepy. Everything was dreary and difficult and hard, and I was trapped in an almost constant inner monologue deriding myself and feeling ashamed of my many failures.

Anyway, I got anxiety pills from the doctor, slacked off in school, and waited for the spring that finally arrived, and the depression lessened. But I think the anger I've had inside me since November is what has driven the arguments and the mistrust and my lack of submissiveness. I shut her out when I most needed her, because I was afraid and ashamed and didn't know what else to do, fearing of losing her love because of my inadequacy being ill and tired. That was stupid of me, but it also left me feeling abandoned and alone.And so, when all else was solved, the feelings of having been abandoned stayed on.

I think it has passed now. It took a long while, much too long, and I need to do things differently in the future. The short term gain because I managed school and housework and little S while sick was so not worth six months of depression and anguish. Not to mention the fact that I think it was totally unnecessary. If I had let myself feel what I felt and admitted my fear and pain and fatigue, I don't really think it would have made anything worse - it would probably made it easier. But my instinct is to shut down and hide any weakness, and sometimes that causes a lot of trouble.

This is only one reason why I always want to be there for little S, why I want to help her put words to her emotions, respect her integrity, never leave her alone if she doesn't want to, and never ever tell her to stop crying. I want to give her that safe place to be in, in any shift in life, that Mistress usually creates for me now as an adult, and that I think parents really should provide for their kids, even though mine didn't. 

May 27, 2012

Good weekend - egg and all

Yesterday, I fell asleep in her arms at the couch in front of the tv. Sweden was on the way to winning the Eurovision Song Contest, but we didn't stay up to see the result. She took me to bed, instead, and we found out about the victory in the morning.

I was tired enough to fall asleep because she had just fucked me, intensely, on the spare mattress in the living room, somewhere between Italy and Moldavias songs, or something. I have very vague recollections of the contest. I have very clear recollections of her body on top of mine, her hands around my throat, ordering me to come for her.

She had put in an egg inside me when the show started, something we haven't done for years. I was ordered the other day to go through our toys and throw out anything made of latex, and everything we kept I unceremoniously put in a bag and brought with us to her parents, were we're staying for the weekend. A lot of the things has been laying in the back of the wardrobe in our bedroom were we keep all kinky things, and not been used since... well, since pregnancy, I guess. And she's three in August, so awhile ago.

Turns out we had three remote control devices, one egg and one staff, and an egg with a cord to the control. And they all worked, after getting new batteries. She tried the remote controlled egg out on me during little S's naptime, and I think the two orgasms it generated encouraged further use. It's one of those things we've been talking about, fantasizing about, but not gotten around to try, and I love that it worked so well. It turned me into a horny, blissfull, cuddly mess, and I think that was about the effect she was aiming for.

What I'm really trying to say is that yesterday was a great day. Actually, Friday was a great day too, ending with us going to the movies and seeing The Avengers, and since we're huge Joss Whedon-fans and superhero-nerds, that was such a treat. I was bubbly all over going to bed, and in the morning she had sex with me. And then again at naptime , and again at night. No wonder I fell asleep on the couch.

It wasn't really a plan to be superhappy and get laid all the time when I decided to stop bickering and simply shut up and do as she says. It was definitely more of a really really nice surprise.

It would be stupid of me to expect this kind of sexfilled bliss to continue (it's already abated a bit, today I've been hungover and we've mostly worked outside clearing PILs yard from junk), but it was really neat anyway. And I'm so glad it feels like I've gotten myself together again, and started behaving as she wants me to. I'll keep it up, and see if this summer wont be about a thousand times better than the last two (of which the first consisted of a big NO SLEEP-experience, and the other meant we had no bathroom in our apartment and had to live alternately at our parents houses...). This one gotta be better!

Besides having a sexlife that resembles what it was like when we first got together, my life is rather full anyway right now. Two exams next week, before the end of the semester, one in cognitive behaviour therapy, and the other in non-parametric statistics. The therapy one I hope to pass by some combination of intuition, good luck and benevolent course leaders, and so I concentrate my efforts on the statistics one. Which I don't know how I am supposed to pass at all. Magic, perhaps?

I now have thirty minutes to study before it's time to help put little S to bed. Chi-two, here I come!

May 24, 2012

Out of the woods

Something has changed. There's a shift, in energy, in awareness, in tone of voice and in the atmosphere. It's like we've passed out of the forest, and the sun came out. In a way, I'd say it's over (the fighting, the constant arguing).

Of course, this may be very premature, but I wouldn't be surprised if we passed this weekend without horrible arguments and strife. I think we've made it. And even if we do fall back into old habits, for now, it has changed. No matter what happens tomorrow, right now, this is true.

I don't want to snap at her all the time any more. And I don't. She seems calm and collected, and I don't feel like she's on my case all the time. I believe her when she says she's pleased with me. And I can endure it when she seems displeased. That's a new one.

I think I finally realised that I do trust her. Not only in the big things, but in the little ones too. I can let go. I can let her decide, and not fear that she'll get down on me for the outcome, whether good or bad.

Everythings feels softer now.

I kneel a lot more before her. I use Mistress a lot more often. I curtsy when I hand her things, almost all the time. It just feels right. Nothing forced or awkward, not expectations on how she's going to react. Just calmness and submission (yey! I'm feeling submissive again) and contentment.

*happy sigh*

Believe it or not, I am doing what she wants me to. Sort of.

A question on Fetlife again, leading to introspection. Reading the answers to a post in the O/p-group about arguing, it turns out that no, noone else seems to do it. Everyone else is much too respectful and submissive and so on to do that - they trust their Owner, you see, so why argue? And yeah, that is the question.

It wasn't all that encouraging to realise that my answer along the lines of "we fight like angry cats" definitely stood out of the crowd. If everyone else is much too obedient and submissive and owned to argue, not to mention know eachother and love eachother too much, and we are at eachothers throats three times a week, that does imply certain things. Like that we're doing it wrong. And that I'm not submissive enough. And other cheerful, uplifting concepts.

I used to think that there would be no arguments, no fighting, in a power exchange relationship. I mean, if one party can decide everything, then how could you possibly fight? I had a discussion ones with an owned submissive, this was back in 2001 or something, and I had never tried anything involving BDSM but was very much searching. She talked about her anorexia, and I asked how come her Master couldn't help her with that - couldn't he just tell her what to eat and not to eat? And she replied that yes, he could, but he couldn't control her angst.

I got it then, to my credit, and I get it even more now. It doesn't matter what we agree upon, we're still human, we're still ourselves. I'm still me. I have given myself to her, but I'm still me, and neither she nor me can control my feelings. My expressions of them, absolutely, but not the affects in themselves. Nor can she really control my interpretation of a situation in the moment, because that is instantaneous. We can talk about it, and we can agree about different suitable actions next time, and we can discuss the interpretations of different situations, and perhaps influence the way I see things the next time they happen. But in the moment? It is as it is.

One funny thing is is that I never used to argue, with friends or previous partners. Shouting at people is not very like me, as I was before. And I realised also, yesterday, that no, this isn't like me. This is like her. I'm modelling on her.

She didn't like how I handled stress or anxiety or anger when we first got together, because all the things I did centered on distance and self control and shutting things and people out. If I could lie through my teeth, hide everything I want, decide for myself what I want to and don't want to show, and withdraw from interaction whenever I please, then I'm fine. I wont argue, I swear. You wont even know I was hurt or disagreed with you. And you wont know what happened when I suddenly declare enough and wont take your calls anymore.

So ok, she didn't like that (go figure) and she's been drawing me out of my shell bit by bit. Unfortunately, I did what I did because I haven't been taught a better way (serious lack in my upbringing, this) and trying to do something else (when it was declared that lying in the fetal position for hours not saying a word wasn't an acceptable way to behave during an argument) I did wat she do, or my own twisted version of it.

She has a tendency to blow up, to get very angry very quickly, show it loudly and clearly, and then calming down. I, on the other hand, detest anger, gets mortally wounded if someone displays it,  rarely forgive anything and when I get mad, I stay mad. Not letting things get to me by shutting down and disengaging has been my strategy to get through life anyway, but with that strategy disabled, I flounder. Or rather, I fight.

So I think that is part of what has been happening with us. I'm not allowed to use my tried and tested methods of handling conflicts (or not handling them, as it were) and my alternatives are crude and rather violent. She hasn't stopped me because I think she wants me to express myself, she wants me to not withdraw and even though she hates what I'm doing, she likes it better than the alternative.

My job is to find a way to cope with my feelings and others, a healthy way, that my parents were supposed to teach me (if only they'd known it themselves). I'm getting there, but along the way I'm making mistakes galore. But now I'm sensing the end of the road, I see it just along the bend over there. I think this will be past us soon, and we'll take on other challenges instead. Soon! (Maybe next year, or so...)

May 20, 2012

It's actually getting better!

And the thing is, all the soulsearching and questioning and complaining I do on this blog right now, all the listing of my shortcomings and pondering of differences and arguments - it works. Things are improving, actually.

I have shifted my attention from "what is she doing wrong and how can I make her do something else?" (which leads to no change and make us both miserable) and also from "this sucks, why can't we do it right, what's wrong with our relationship?" (with similar results as the first one) to "What am I doing? Is it working? Am I getting what I need? What could I do differently?". That's what I've been doing for a couple of weeks now, and that has led to change.

This morning she said or did something that made me feel stressed out. I told her, as I ususally do, how I felt and what it was she did that made me feel that way, and why. And this time, unusually, she hugged me and explained the situation from her point of view, and made me feel all better again. And I felt good about myself, I wasn't angry with her or myself, and she didn't seem to mind me fretting a bit. That's a huge difference. Huge!

And the thing I did differently? The only thing I changed, that averted all the angst, all the drama, all the argument and all my seemingly disrespectful attitude? I looked down when I talked to her. Instead of staring into her eyes, trying to convey all my unhappiness and desperation so that she would take pity on me and console me, which I've done before and which ends up in disaster and her claiming I look at her "as if I hate her", I averted my eyes and avioded eye contact while I was explaining my point of view. That's it.

It's such small things. It's about talking to the other one in a body language that can be understood, conveying a message the other one can actually recieve. Sometimes that's not the thing I would naturally do, sometimes it's something that has to be learned. I grew up forced to act very assertively. I needed to defend myself, daily, from my older brother and from bullies at school, and that still resonates from me, especially when I'm stressed out. I get big "Keep away!" signs flashing all over me, even though that's not at all what I'm intending. If I don't want that to be so, I have to consciosly do something about that.

Looking down is one thing I can do, that obviously improves things.

And today when little S took her nap after lunch, she brought me into the bedroom, cuffed me to the bed and put clover clamps on my nipples, and left me to lie like that while she was on the computer for a while, finishing off a job project. It really really hurt, and it gave me a curious satisfaction to stifle all moans or cries and lie perfectly still so that she wouldn't be disturbed in her work. It didn't really get me wet until she was finished and came over to me and touched me, but then my whole body lit up in a second, and when she started to fuck me I was on fire. Afterwards I almost fell asleep in her arms, before it was time to go wake up little S.

I love her so damn much, she's the most beautiful person I know. 

May 19, 2012

Get on your knees and apologise - how hard can it be?

Ok, new rule. (I might need to write all the rules down someday, or maybe Mistress will order me to do it before I get around to it. Or maybe rules we both forget wasn't that important to begin with?). Anyway, new rule: when Mistress criticise me, or seem to criticise me, or I think she's implying some kind of criticism in something else she's saying, or I'm afraid she's going to criticise me in her next sentence, or something she does might be construed as criticism; I'm not allowed to run away, or immediately start defending myself in ugly, disrespectful ways.

Imagine that, huh?

As might be implied from the previous paragraph, I have issues with criticism (did you notice that?). I'm deadly afraid of it. Any kind of verbal correction makes me break out in cold sweats.This isn't only with Mistress, it's in any and all situations were any kind of achievement is called for. For the longest time, I didn't get involved in any activities were my absolute success wasn't guaranteed. This whole thing about working for your goals, improving with time, failing and trying again - not my thing. Success right away, seemingly without having to make an effort, or the potential prize loses all meaning and all I get out of process is shame and humiliation. Or so I thought.

I'm better at it now - a big milestone was when Mistress made me get into the car again after failing my first try at the driving exam. I did eventually get my drivers license, thanks to her, and as a matter of fact I flunked the exam twice and only passed on the third try. That was the first time I'd tried to do something difficult that was important to me, were I ran a real risk of failing.

So ok, I can do it. But in the everyday life of small things, Mistress not being pleased with me in any way (the smaller the worse, actually) is the dread of my existence. And since I'm rather disorganised, and grew up in a very disorganised home somewhat neglected and under a bit of chaotic circumstances, and she's very keen on control and order, she in fact quite often have reasons to be displeased with me.

I lose stuff. I forget stuff. I forget to do stuff. I remember important facts (like "I have to be in school super-early tomorrow, is it ok if you take the later bus to work and drop off little S at pre-school?") at the last minute, so that she has to rearrange her schedule to suit mine. I decide things over her head with friends and family and only tells her after the fact. I, again, lose stuff. A lot. And so on and so forth. Her strengths are my weaknesses.

And I think she wouldn't mind all that much, if I could stand her showing her displeasure. But I can't. I totally freak out. The merest whisper of a hint of a suggested complaint, and I go through the roof. I'm supersuperhurt and very very offended, and make sure the conversation very soon centers around her shortcomings, rather than mine.

As if I, somehow, could avert her irritation with me by denying and diversion. As if there's some watching, judging God in the room, whom I have to convince of my innocence and infallibility, and who, if convinced, then will make her irritation go away, by divine intervention. As if I can make her forget and see everything differently by shouting at her and claiming to have done nothing wrong.

Because that always works so well...

But no more. I can't do that anymore. Because she said so. And here's the kicker. Since she said so, since it's now an order from her, I really think I can change my ways. I've been trying to avert a great disaster, the disaster of her actually realising what a terrible, hopeless person I am, by all my smokescreens and big, dramatic scenes of anxiety and anger. She's suffered from it, and of course in any rational frame of mind I realise it's not contributing to anything, but the fear has made me do it, and the mere fact that she doesn't like it hasn't made me stop. But her orders will, I think.

The next time I feel horribly accused and unjustly treated, in desperate need of vindication, I'm supposed to go on my knees, or if that's not possible or appropriate at least take a position below her, and say something along the lines of: "It feels as if you're displeased with me, Mistress? Have I done something wrong?". She promises to take care of me, even if doing this as I fear will lead to a complete mental breakdown on my part. And honestly, I can't very well break any further down than I already do, and even if I do, I will most probably not be as obnoxious as I am while trying not to break down.

From now on, I'll simply go on and break down and let the disaster happen and let the chips fall were they may. She has ordered me so, and she has said that she'll deal with it and take care of me. That makes everything alright.

(In my head, I know I've behaved idiotic before, and that this would be a big improvement. In my heart, I'm deadly afraid and convinced she'll finally see right through me and deem me unworthy, if I dispense with the defence and the smokescreens. It's not that I believe my head over my heart - it's just that on her order, I'll take any chances and risk anything. This too.)

May 18, 2012

Letting go in different dimensions

I've realised my submission, or maybe rather our power exchange dynamic, comes in to play in at least three different dimensions. At least looking at it like that makes the whole thing seem a little less paradoxical to me when I think about it.

One is obedience. I'm good at that, actually. Give me an order (well, if you're my Mistress or in any other way have authority over me. It might work even if you're not, but then I'm not guaranteeing anything...) and I'll obey it. If it's a clear cut, precise order I will execute it immediately, as effectively as I can, with as little questions or hesitation as I'm capable of. Say "Jump!" and I'll be hitting the ceiling. Nemas problemas.

So ok, that one me and Mistress rarely fights over.

The other one is following rules. I have this one down too. We have quite a lot of small, everyday rules that guides my behaviour, and I rarely brake any of them (the "no candy"-one is the one exception). If she says "from now on you'll do it this way" I do it that way. In most cases, I forget or ignore the rule one or two times, confess my faults and get a correction, and after a few misteps I adhere to it. I always use my helmet when riding my bike, nowadays, and I never get in to bed in the eveing without permission.

The third one, however, is conceding to her will in everyday life. Submission, perhaps, or respect. Doing what she want, and being respectful in the little things. Following her guidance and trusting her judgment. In that area, I'm sorry to say, I suck.

If she does things that irritate me, or if I think she is going to do something that has irritated me in the past, or if I think she's putting her energy or focus in the "wrong" direction, or if we're approaching a subject were we have disagreed in the past or I have felt let down or disappointed in the past - I bristle. I stall. I mutter under my breath, and loudly, and I openly and not very respectfully questions her actions, her motives, her behaviour in general. That's the are were all the fighting is happening. Every fight seems to center around her doing something that irks me, me reacting strongly and emotionally and trying to correct her or manipulate her or simply being angry at her, and she retaliating.

It's really really hard for me, it seems, to simply trust her judgment. She may tell me to jump off a cliff, and I would. She can tie me up, gag me and beat me or choke me and I wont protest one second. She has all my money, she could tell me to move anywhere or get any job or quit any job, and I would obey. But when she wont immediately stop looking for my black pair of comfy pants, because I've found the purple ones and am tired of looking for things, I behave like a presoumptus disrespectful ass. I wonder why that is? What is it with the little things, that I'm so afraid of letting go of?

May 17, 2012

Free time blues - or It's not free time if you have a kid with you

Today, a little more or a little less then 1 982 years ago Christ presumably ascendeded to Heaven, to take his rightful place at his Divine Fathers right side. It's Ascension Day, vulgary known as "Christs Flyingday" for some of us less reverent Swedes, and in this mostly agnostic country, were the Church and the State however didn't part ways until aboout ten years ago, this is a holiday. And since tomorrow is surrounded by holidays, the next day being Saturday, most people have time off that day too. So do we. It's a four day weekend.

And the big practical implication of our Lord and Saviours ascension is that the pre-school is closed - totally today, and we elected to have little S home tomorrow too. I think we both kind of regret that decision now, three hours into the four days of  "free time". Being free from school and work is not relaxing, when it is offset by having a hyper two year old home four days in a row, having to think up kid-friendly activities her every waking moment, which spans from six in the morning to around nine in the evening, with an hourlong nap in the middle of the day, which is the only thing that makes us keep at least a weak grasp on our respective sanities.

I know there's people who long to be with their kids. I know also that there's kids that actually sleep something like twelve hours every night and still takes a nap. And who has a personality that you can be relaxed around, who isn't constantly on the verge of a temper tantrum, or about to invent yet another kind of violent or destructive new hobby. I don't know, however, if any of those children are two and a half year old. I think some of them might be.

I really do think we're good mothers, me and Mistress. But I also know we're very tired mothers a lot of the time, and the strain of having to be on top of each other four days straight is not what I would call relaxing. Right now, I kind of long for Monday, when we go back to our normal routines.

In a little while, Mistress and little S will return from the grocery store, hopefully packed with goodies for our ten-o'clock coffee, and I'm sure I'll perk up after that. When all else fails, there's always sugar...

May 16, 2012

Caning and hockey and sleeping and stuff

And then there's the good stuff. Like her beating me with the rattan yesterday before bedtime, simply because it's the Hockey World Cup, and Sweden played Norway with 3-0 in goals when we shut the teve off and I get ten strokes for every goal. For no particular reason, except that she thinks it's fun and it makes me a little bit more invested in the game when we watch it (at least I look up and goes "Awww" when someone scores a goal, instead of shutting it out completely). Oh, and it's also sexy.

She didn't stop at thirty, but then again I didn't think she would. I had lost count by then (I lost count by two, or something) but there's a difference in the quality of the strokes when she moves from striking a preset number, to simply continuing because it feels good. It's not harder, per se, but different. Both are nice.

Well, nice and painful and difficult, I mean, someone is beating on my bare ass with a big stick, it's not nice as in cuddly-feely-feels good. But it's nice. It's good. It makes me feel that I'm owned and alright and that everything is as it should be. It makes me feel like myself, all the way deep down.

And then she hooked the chain to my collar and we spooned and eventually fell asleep, and gloriously little S slept all night which makes all the difference in the world.

May 15, 2012

A small victory

I'm still sick, I've been to the doctor today for the umpteenth time, and am going to try allergy pills - it might be allergies. Who knows? Anyway, I'm tired and aching and cranky, and me and Mistress ended up this afternoon at the supermarket, doing some shopping before riding our bikes home with the groceries. We needed some cheese and milk and fruit and diapers. My back was aching, I needed to pee, and I was seriously worried that I would simply collapse on the bike ride home, or being so tired when we finally got there that I would be useless for anything the rest of the evening.

So that was the base line. We're going around picking stuff out, and Mistress finds a special deal on olives. She wants to take three for the price of two. I don't want to shop anymore, I want to find a toilet and preferably a warm comfy bed and not carry anything anywhere anymore. And especially not more olives than we would need anytime this week, or next.

But it was cheap, and we like olives, and Mistress decided to get them.

And here's the important part. I panicked. I had a small but visible anxiety attack. I was convinced Mistress either didn't realise how badly I felt or that she didn't care about it. Either way, she would drive me to my death by olive choosing and over-shopping, and eventually I would be a overworked shell of a human being, of no use to her anymore, and she would kick me to the curb, not loving me anymore.

Because I'm always reasonable and realistic in my worldview.

I felt all that, I thought all that, it was horrible - and I didn't say anything. I put the olives in the basket, and we kept shopping. Later, she took a good time deciding about the perfect package of toilet paper, and I panicked again, and again I kept my mouth shut. I said "Yes Mistress" and made helpful suggestions, and eventually biked home completely without collapsing or being in anyway reduced to useless shell.

And we had time for a short snuggle before I had to rush off again picking little S up from babysitting grandpa, and I told her about my struggle, and she petted me and said I was her good girl. And I was! I really, really was!

May 14, 2012

Post vacation argument

We had a wonderful time in Edinburgh, it was as great as we'd imagined, or even better. We slept a lot, (but not all the time...) and the hotel was a small, quirky place with friendly staff were everything worked and it lacked those certain things that I associate with Brittish hotel standard; the mould, the damp, the smell, the noise... Well, the toilet was a bit funny, but what can you expect?

And I absolutely love that city. I don't usually rave on about places, but this is marvellous. It's such a great mixture of really old and very modern, everyone is nice and friendly in a way swedes rarely are, and it's so so beautiful. Even on Friday, when it poured down the whole day. Saturday was cold but sunny, and we toured the castle and sampled whisky and had halfdrunken sex in the middle of the afternoon and then went on a guided tour on a graveyard (the Greyfriars) including scary stories about a violent poltergeist, and a masked person jumping out screaming "Booo!" and scaring everyone (except Mistress, who claims to had seen it coming and not being frightened. I believe her, even.)

And we didn't argue ones. Not ones. Not even the first day when I had to wait for her for half an hour in the rain in a strange city after travelling all day to meet her. And not when we were tired or had to wait for half an hour before being served in a restaurant or when we didn't find things while we were packing up, or anything. Not at all.

And then we got home, and boom! Withing an hour I'm shouting swearwords at her, and an hour later I fall in pieces crying over a completely different matter at the kitchen table, having little S patting my hand and saying "poor you!" and asking "mommy A" what she's done. I mean, we solved the issues when they occurred, but still. And then again this morning, and then I had kind of had it, and was simply devastated. So was Mistress, for that matter.

She claims I don't seem to listen to her, that she behaves the same but I don't obey her. And I claim that she simply doesn't give me any direction, issues no orders, and then suddenly start criticising me and getting down on me as if I was doing something other than she had said - only she didn't say anything.

And if you add in something akin to a lot of noise, both accounts may be true.

It isn't really noise, of course. Not as such. It's the constantly distracting, interrupting, disruptive presence of an active, happy two-year-old. When we're alone, our communication works just fine. But when we also have to deal with a loud third party, our wires get crossed. Her directives pass me by, or doesn't reach me, and my attempt to follow her and perform what I percieve as her intent is misunderstood or overlooked. And then we both feel ignored, unjustly treated and less loved, which makes us grumpy and makes us interpret things in a negative way. That downard spiral doesn't seem to need much time at all to get out of hand.

She promised to make an effort to be more clear and specific in her orders, and to repeat them if it seems like I'm not adhering to them. I promised to try to ask when I feel confused, instead of doing and then blowing up when I get corrected. We'll se how far that takes us.

And then I got depressed because I still got a fever, and I'm very very tired of this by now.

May 11, 2012


Being without Mistress for two days makes me realise, for the gazillionth time, how much I depend on her. How I miss her when she's gone. Her being away makes my world slightly off kilter, as if everything could begin rolling away as on a sloping floor at any time. It's just wrong.

Especially at bedtimes. It's kind of sad, and very symbolic of our current parenting-centered life, that the highlight of each day is cuddling up together in our bed, going to sleep. Putting on my own dog collar, cuddling a mere stuffed toy, is not an ok substitute.

But then I did something incredibly brave. Brave, because I was deadly afraid of doing it, and did it anyway. I flew from our town in Sweden to Edinburgh, Scotland, all by myself, with a transfer at Heathrow. I left home for the bus in to town by 8.30, and then followed train to the airport, airplane to Heathrow, airplane to Edinburgh and finally bus to meet Mistress in City Centre. We met in a very cold and rainy street surrounded by construction sites at around 17.30 local time, which ment 18.30 for my internal clock. It was a long, long day.

I mean, apart for me worrying about stuff, running around in circles, and hurrying through everything everywhere for fear of being late, ending up sitting at airport gates waiting forever to board the plane, everything went fine. I got through every security check, including having my photo taken at two different locations at Heathrow, having my bag swiped for explosives, getting frisked after beeping in the metal detector (even though I've taken off not only my belt but also my shoes), and showing my passport no less than four times total at the Swedish airport.

At none of those checks was I declared a terrorist. Which is reasonable, because I'm not, but I'm thinking that the more checks you do, the higher the risk for a false positive - if you do enough checks, eventually everyone will be busted for something, by chance or technical malfunction, purely for statistical reasons. 

Actually, the only trouble that directly concerned me (there was a man who fell ill because of low blood pressure on the flight to Heathrow, but he quickly recovered) happened after landing. Mistress' phone didn't receive my texts, so when I arrived at City Centre, she wasn't waiting for me, and instead I ended up in the drizzling rain, hiding out in a roofed doorway without a cap or an umbrella, while we tried to connect and find each other. But the mere fact that we were on the same soil, that there weren't any oceans or hundreds of miles between us, made me calm. I knew she would come, I knew she would find me in this strange, rainy city, and she did.

We went to her hotel, checked me in, had a hot shower, and eventually simply went downstairs and ate what the receptionist found in their freezer (we think). I had a lovely chicken tikka masala, Mistress had spinach cannelloni, and we got complimentary garlic bread. Then we went upstairs, crawled in to bed, tried to watch a stupid movie on the flat screen tv (it is a flat screen. It is also very narrow, and short. One might simply call it petite all around...), and fell asleep.

But in the morning we woke up to a whole new day, and the slow morning cuddle turned in to her fucking me, until we've orgasmed twice and lay panting on the bed. It was so so good to be together again. I can barely stand it when we're apart.

She's working now, holding a lecture at the conference she's attending, but when she's done we'll go out for lunch. I've been shopping in the morning and had my third shower since I arrived. It's freezing outside, the hotel hasn't got double glazed windows, and everything is damp. Showers are a good way to get warm after being chilled.

I'm in love with the city of Edinburgh. I'm starting to think that one of my life goals is to move here, sometime, even for only a short period. I've visited Scotland three times, and every time when the plane descend at the airport, it is the same feeling - of coming home. I can't explain it, but I do feel it, and somehow I love that there is more than one place on earth that can give me that feeling. Even if the other one is a rainy peninsula that I've only ever visited for short periods as a tourist. 

May 7, 2012

Time for a trip (and more sickness)

I'm sick again, have been since Saturday. I think I've coped rather well, actually, until today, keeping my mood up while not overexerting myself. But today I'm sinking. I feel ashamed about being like this, nervous about how Mistress is reacting to me, and disappointed about feeling poorly. Plus, of course, the pure physical discomfort of having fever and a bad throat and headaches, and most of all, the fatigue.

I hate this! I want to be healthy, not a constantly whining wreck.

Ok, part of the bad mood is stress and anxiety - Mistress leaves for Edinburgh tomorrow, and I'll be alone with little S for two days, before I join her. So 1) alone 2) alone with sole responsibility for child 3) sick 4) tons to do in school already 5) missing two days of school because of trip, stressed out over that 6) packing, preparing everything for the babysitters, and so on 7) nervous about flying alone, with a transfer in London. To me, everyone of these things would be enough to freak me out all by itself.

At least I managed to postpone my first day at my summer job, it was scheduled to tomorrow, but now I'll take that introductory day next week instead. And also, the things doesn't really stack up, I'm not seven times as anxious as I would have been, it's more as if my thoughts are flitting from one thing to another constantly.

Mistress is packing, I'm making our evening tea, and in a few minutes I'm going to cuddle up to her on the sofa for the last time before we'll see eachother in Edinburgh.

May 6, 2012

Belonging, and a little about vacuuming.

There are some things that Mistress does that simply... annoys me. Annoys me, or makes me anxious in some cases, and makes me downright furious in some. It's patterns of hers, things I've been griping about more or less since our first kiss, and when she does them, I nowadays don't behave very well.

One of them appeared just now, two minutes ago when I had gotten little S ready for bed, and it was Mistress' turn to take her in to the bedroom for books and bottle. She failed to appear at her place in our well rehearsed dance of herding two-year-old, because she had to change pants first, and she needed to do that because she had vacuumed instead of doing it earlier.

And I got superannoyed, because I guessed that she had done that prioritising because we said we should try to start bedtime rituals a little earlier, and so I was fifteen minutes or so before our usual time - in the same room as her, it's not as if she didn't know when it was time to take over, or as if she hadn't encouraged me and approved of the time change.

But that's the thing. She had probably (I'm guessing here, but this is the interpretation that annoys me) decided before that she wanted to vacuum, and when the time got shorter, she simply tried to do it faster, or do more things at once, and in the end, kept me waiting. And the thing is of course not whether I can wait a minute while she changes pants, but if the "I'm not going to bed and I'll never sleep!!!" hyper two-year-old can.

But no, that's not the thing either. Even if her actions had (very unlikely) led to some sort of kidrelated disaster, making the putting to bed-procedure stretch on endlessly into the night, that's still not what's bothering me. The thing that bothers me is a trait she has, that I'm thinking now that I have to learn to accept. I mean, I'm either hers or I'm not. If I am, then I better accept that she is who she is, with the skills, traits and habits that she has, and that me running straight into walls in my effort to change her is futile and harmful to us.

When she has planned something, she is loathe to change it. She makes optimistics plans, timewise, and then, when the time runs out, she is very reluctant to let anything go, to rearrange things or skip them. Her first choice is usually to simply press on, trying to do things faster, or simply being late for other things. When I get pressed for time, I quickly reorders things, decide which things wont get done, and live with those choices. I loathe being late, and I don't want to hurry. These strategies doesn't match very well.

So now, for instance, when I'm thinking that she's followed her usual MO, and that's why she isn't ready to take the halfnaked little elf and put  pyjamas on her when I hand her over, it stirs up memories of all the other gazillion times our respective strategies has crashed in to eachother, and I've been forced to be late, to hurry, to stand frustrated and helplessly by while she's stressed out and running around in the last minute, angry about not finding her stuff, and the feeling of shame and helplessness that accompanies those memories. I feel like that again, then, humiliated, angry and helpless, and what comes out is annoyance.

And yeah. This isn't working. It takes our energy, it makes us argue, and it makes me miserable with myself because I behave in ways I don't want to, and honestly, I think she's rather sick of me behaving like this too.

Because really. If she wants to vacuum the kitchen floor, no matter the time or the circumstances, that's her damn prerogative. I have no business telling her how to do thing, or how to prioritise, whether I like it or not. It's not even that her way isn't in any way less effective than mine (becuase in many other ways, I'm absolutely lousy at time management), even if it was my choice isn't between her way or my way, my choice is between belonging to her or not. And if I choose to belong, that have to include decisions I may not have made. In otherwise, what would the point.

When Mistress comes out from the bedroom, I'm going to apologise to her, not for doing anything wrong, necessarily, but for thinking it. And most probably, projecting it with eyes and stance and the curving of my eyebrows... And next time, I'll try to do better, and remember that I don't have to like the way she does things - but I do have to behave and submit, if I want to belong to her.

(And I do. I really, really do. Even if it means being late, or hurrying, or the floor being vacuumed at times that to me seems odd.)

May 5, 2012


I tried out my newfound insights this morning, at breakfast. Little S was playing with her mug, and suddenly Mistress shouts out, both angry and loudly. There's raspberry juice all over little S' place at the table, and Mistress grabs some paper and starts dabbing on her pants, that has gotten all wet. And I freeze up and have this strong emotional wave hit me, fear, anger and anxiety all rearing up inside me.

And I wait, and wait and wait for it to pass. It doesn't. I tell Mistress I'm scared, and she glares at me, still drying off the table, whlile little S happily plays with the puddles, putting pieces of bread in them. When the order is restored, Mistress reminds me that "See? Nothing happened!" meaning that she's calm again and hasn't done anything rash or irrational.

I realise that, but my dread isn't leaving, and I'm panicked because it isn't, and suddenly I'm sure that any minute now Mistress will lose patience with me, and start yelling at me for being grumpy. I tell her this too, and she sighs and tells me that no, of course she will not, but in my anxious state I hear a weariness and frustration in her voice that sets me off even more. I can't seem to end the downward spiral of increasing anxiety.

We separate, Mistress playing in the living room with the kid while I clear the breakfast table, with the bad feelings still high inside me. I let them be. I resigne myself to feeling this way, thinking that if that's how it's going to be, then it is. I can't do anything about it, I'll simply have to trust in Mistress loving me anyway, and let it be. I even try focusing on the feelings, conjuring up fear and worry, noticing every sign in my body, from pressure over the chest to headache and tingly fingers. For a while I feel like crying.

And then I realise that while I've been putting away the egg cups, I've lost focus on my feelings, and my mind has started wandering to other things. By the time the dishwasher is full, I'm feeling cheerfull again. And when I've wiped down the counter, I make sure to stick my head out of the kitchen and give Mistress a big, warm smile, so that she'll now everything is ok.

Because it is. I simply had to give it time. More time than I was comfortable with, more time than I'd have preferred or guessed, but still. Unless they're constantly triggered, feelings pass if you give them a minute and don't try to force them away. 

So, ok, I'm putting myself on response prevention from now on. When I feel like that, when Mistress' actions make me fearful and anxious, the important thing for me is not to act. I may tell her how I'm feeling, but not what she should do, and not blame her for it. And I may focus on my feelings, and be aware of them, but not feed them by endless rumination on the problem. It may feel intolerable for a few minutes, but it isn't, and if I can stand it a couple of more times, it will cease to be as painful. I now this, because I've seen others do it - I've even convinced others to do it, for that matter. Now it's time to convince myself.

May 4, 2012

What it was that happened that time

Two years ago in August, we were going away for the day and my mother-in-law was babysitting. Between packing, handling the baby and explaining things to mother-in-law, Mistress lost her temper. This was generally a bad time for us, we were sleep-depraved and tired, and our life was mostly a struggle. Things weren't right between us, even though it wasn't always bad either.

Mistress left the apartment in a huff, I remember, walking at great speed away from us, and I trailed after her, calling out to her without an answer, and with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I got in to the car at the parking lot in anxious silence, and when she drove away she suddenly started to swerve the car from one side of the road to the other, hands clasped white-knuckled to the steering wheel.

I panicked, completely. I started to shout at her, uncontrollably, to let me out, "LET ME OUT!!!", screaming it to her face, and she drove the car to the curb and I unclasped myself and scrambled from the car, terrified.

I started walking across the lawn, going nowhere in particular, simply away from her, away from the car, and she drove slowly after me, suddenly calm again, calling for me to get back in. But I refused.

This is the memory I have. This is what replays in my head every time she walks to fast, every time she stumbles on words in anger, or hit a wall with her fist, or even get that frustrated look in her eyes, Every time that happens, I'm back to that lawn, walking into nowhere, having nowhere to go but not wanting to, not daring to, go back.

We haven't talked about this much since it happened. It has simply lived its own life in my head, shaping my perceptions and expectations, influencing the basic assumptions I have about my life, of our life. That day, one of my basic assumptions became "I can't trust her not to kill me or herself."

Because to me, doing something like that while driving a car was something You Don't Do. My drivers license wasn't a year old at that time, and I had the greates respect for cars and driving. Losing your temper while driving was in itself unthinkable, and to willfully use the car to express anger - to me, that was far beyond rational. I saw no difference between what she did, and driving the car straight in to a tree at full speed on the highway. I was literary afraid of my life - not at that particular moment, perhaps, but to ever again get into a car she's driving. Because she had shown me, in my eyes, that she was utterly unreliable and unpredictable.

We talked about it, and for the first time I got her version. That yes, she does that sometimes, when she's frustrated. She also sometimes revs the car, giving it gas with the clutch disconnected. That doesn't mean she would ever ever do anything dangerous. I misinterpreted her, I thought she was way more out of control than she was. She knew there weren't any other cars around - the parking lot was empty. She drove in something like 10 km/h, and really, nothing could have happened. She was angry and frustrated and yes, taking that out while driving even in a safe way is a bad habit - but it's not akin to reckless driving, and certainly not to driving in to any trees from any highways.

And suddenly, while she talked, a heavy weight was lifted from my mind. It was a terrifying experience for me, and it shouldn't have happened - but it does not mean that she can't be trusted. It does not mean that she might as well kill us all with the car or in any other way. She didn't really do anything dangerous, even though it was scary and not very appropriate.

Eventually, I had gotten in the car again, and she drove away, and we had a rather nice day actually, as I recall. But the seed of mistrust that was planted that day continued to grow, and hasn't been weeded out until today. It might have grown some roots, and I can't guarantee there's not other seedlings sprouting their heads somewhere, but at least we've found it, finally.

I found it! And trust issues.

Last night in bed we discussed, again, our on-going conundrum, and  for once we solved something, even though it was late and we were tired. When we fell asleep, me collared and chained, and spooned in to her, laying on her arm as always, I was happier and calmer than I've been in a long time.

Which is kind of funny, considering that the conclusion we reached was that she's been right all along, and it's me that has to change.

We went over the last time we clashed, and when I described the emotions I was having at the moment when she got angry at how I was reacting to her, I realised that her anger and hurt actually was rather well proportioned to the feelings and thoughts I was having. Not to what I was doing, per se, but to my attitude. She's not a mind reader, I wouldn't say, but she's very perceptive, and knows me very well.

I was feeling abandoned. betrayed. I was feeling hurt, and furious at her sudden betrayal. And also, for some reason I still can't figure out, I was feeling very very humiliated, and not in the good way. In that moment, I can't honestly say that I was submitting to her, and even though I would probably have followed a direct order, that would have been out of pride and stubborness, not because I trusted her or deferred to her judgment. Because in that moment, that microsecund, I had no faith whatsoever in her judgment. Which I think is what she accurately read in my expression, and which is what infuriated and frustrated her.

And what had she done, to merit such strong emotions, such distrust? She had heard me getting stressed out over little S disturbing me when I was about to mop the floor, wanting to play with the soapy water and "help" cleaning, and she hastily hang up the phone on her mother and more or less ran the few meters from the living room to the hallway, where we were, to help me out. That's it.

Yes, honestly, that's it. I swear. That was what drove me in to fear ridden despair and mistrust.

I'm quirky like that.

I have a reason for it. Of course I do. I'm not insane. But in this regard, I do have a lot of work to do. The thing that scared me at that time, mostly, was her hanging up in my opinon too fast on her mother, and then the running. Her moving fast indoors almost always does this to me. I, in less then a second, heard these actions, and interpreted them as "Oh no! She's angry! She's irrational! I have to stop her!" and I went into full red alert.

There are, we discovered yesterday, a few areas where I've lost trust in her, and another few where I'm not inclined to trust in anyone. All other areas I'm fine. Sex I'm fine with. Food, money, how we take care of our apartment, studying, socialising, remote control - all hers. I have no problem with her controlling those.

But then there is the time she gets angry or stressed, and specifically moves fast, have a special look in her eyes, or acts out in anyway. She expresses anger much more freely than I'm comfortable with, and she's scared me in the past. It's not until we talked about it that I realised just how much she's scared me, and what I've learned from those times.

I have learned that I have to stop her. Somehow I've convinced myself that if I don't intervene, things will get progressively worse until all is lost - until she seriously hurt herself, me or little S, and then it will be all my fault for not stopping her in time. So any time she shown outwards sign of anger or distress, I have to step in and threaten her or showing her how much I hate it, so that she'll stop and it wont get worse.

The problem, the big problem, with these kind of things, is that they never get disproven. As long as I act every time it happens, I'll never know for sure what will happen if I don't. She'll never get a chance to prove me wrong. And, because that's how people are wired, every time I do it it gets a little bit worse, it takes a little less to set me off. I have somehow become phobic of her anger expressions, so that now even the tiniest amount, even the mere suggestion that something might be annoying to her, is enough to trigger my fight/flight-response and an overwhelming need to intervene - to lash out at her, to protect myself.

Actually, it was a relief to discover this - I haven't been aware of it until now. I've just done it, and rationalised it afterwards, telling both me and her that she's the bad one. But honestly, if all she needs to do to set me off is walking fast, I'm not so sure she's the one with problem. And she got the chance to remind me of a few things I haven't really included in my reasoning. Like that she lived a good, productive, non-violent life before me. That she would never ever do anything to hurt herself, me or little S, and that though she's really sorry she has scared me, none of the times that has happened has posed any real danger to anyone.

I think I'll simply have to reflect over wether or not I trust her - do I trust her, even in those areas where she has made mistakes before? Can I tolerate the possibility of her making mistakes again?

If not, we're in serious trouble, but better to be honest about it. If I can, I have to stop reacting on my anxieties, and handles things differently from now on.

May 3, 2012

On again/off again?

Again, inspiration from Fetlife. An Owner wrote about his slave being on again/off again in their O/p-dynamic, reacting very differently to his dominance at different times, including yelling abuse and rape at him. Actually, it sounded rather gruesome, and like a typical "you seriously need to talk to eachother about it" type of posting. But anyway. We're not quite that bad (I certainly hope) but something about it rang true for me.

Maybe that's how she sees it? As if I'm "on again/off again" regarding our dynamic? As if I sometimes submit and follow her, and then at other times seems to disregard her and not care the least what she think, says or does. That would make sense, in that it would at least explain to me why she's behaving the way she does. That instead of being angry with me when I misbehave, and punish me or at least tell me what I'm doing wrong, she acts hurt and emotionally upset, as if I've done something very hurtful and rejecting, something intentionally directed at her, almost like an insult.

The only reasonable guess I've so far come up with is that in her eyes, I have.


The idea makes me wanna scream at the almighty Universe that I haven't done anything! I mean, obviously I have done something, I don't sit around glaring at the floor all day and even if I did that would still be doing something. But I've never meant to hurt her, or disrespect her, and I've certainly never ment not to submit to her, to belong to her. 

I do, however, glare at her. And sigh exasperatedly. And contradicts her at times. Sometimes I even tell her that's she's wrong, or what she's supposed to be doing, or ask her what she's doing and why in a snide voice. I can get very angry at times, even though I mostly just sigh and say nothing and well, I don't know, look angry. 

And yes, I know, listed here that certainly doesn't come off as a very humble or submissive behaviour. And it's not. But it's not anything else either. Its just my spontaneous reaction to how I perceive my environment. It's not me saying "I don't want to belong to you, I'm not going to do what you tell me, I'm not submitting to you". It's just me expressing anger or frustration or a different opinion in the best way I know how.

And I think the difference, one difference at least, between us is not only in the interpretation of my actions, but in the view of who's responsibles for them. In my view, I'm hers and obeying her, and that mean she can pretty much change any behaviour she doesn't like, by classic conditioning if nothing else. Give me a slap every time I glare, and I'll stop doing it. It's not a sign of any underlaying attitude or opinion, it's just a bad habit that can be trained away. But that's my perspective, and I'm slowly realising she doesn't seem to share that view.

She seems to think, instead, that it's my job to behave in submission to her if I want to belong to her. That she owns me and guides me, but that my submission is in essence voluntary, and if I don't behave accordingly, obviously I don't want it enough, and she interpret that as if I'm not as invested as her in the relationship. Or something. I haven't yet found that University course in telepathy I'm looking for, so I'm guessing this far. 

But it seems like that when I do any of these things I've listed, she interpret that as a fundamental unwillingness to submit to her, and react pretty reasonably from that interpretation with being pissed off, hurt and taking a step back, figuratively. Which I find incredibly hurtful and the worst possible punishment, and reacts accordingly. And hey ho, here we go again.

Somewhere in this process there's a stop button. It may be in me changing my behaviour by some sort of effort of will, it may be in her changing her interpretation of my action to allow her to help me by disciplining me, or maybe by me realising where she's coming from when she gets hurt and I feel rejected. Or all three, at different situations. It's there somewhere, in any case, and I'm determined to find it. I'm training to become a behaviour psychologist, godammit, I'm supposed to be good at this sort of things...

Merry go-around

Yesterday we did the same old tired dance we've done far too many times. Something got stressful. I snarked. She got hurt. This time, I tried to apologise really quickly, realising my mistake. Unfortunately, she, in my mind, kept on being angry and attacking me (in her mind, I realised later, rebuking me and being firm). I freaked out completely.

Yeah. 'Cause this is working so well.

Or, actually, it is. We are doing things differently, and even though we're not learning right away, today, I can see that we're still getting there. We are improving.

Yesterday, however, I had a full out meltdown, complete with "if she doesn't want me, I don't want it either" including total despair at that idea, and a lot of crying, arguing and telling her what she did or didn't do, so there! Because, in my mind, I was obviously abandoned, very hurt and grossly mistreated. I apologised, and she didn't accept it right away, and to me, that was intolerable.

Not intolerable in any bratty, uppity way, but literary. I couldn't tolerate it. I broke down, I had full blown panic. In my mind, the relationship was more or less ended in it's current form - she obviously didn't love me anymore, didn't want me or care for me, and I couldn't trust her. I had tried to apologise, that didn't work, so there was nothing I could do that would be right, and that idea felt like it was killing me.

You'd think, and you'd be right, that after seven years together, almost five married, and this pattern repeating itself over and over and over again, I would learn something. But I seem to be very, very slow regarding this. If I don't get full, immediate and complete respons, I shut down, feeling the rejection a thousand times in my heart and reacting to that projection as reality. And my mind makes a total spin, and everything is black.

That's rather problematic in itself, because this kind of panic and despair leaves me tired, drained, depressed even after we've solved the actual issue. Which, of course and unfortunately, makes it very easy for me both to snark again very soon, and be as panicky, or even more, if she gets angry and hurt again. Which she does. And on and on and on....

If I could write a wish list, she would simply skip over the "being hurt"-part and go directly to "my slut is misbehaving"-part, and help me not to be by disciplining me for it, without interpreting my actions as hurtful or rejection of her as a Mistress or a person. But unfortunately, she doesn't.

She does gets hurt. She doesn't feel like disciplining me when I behave like this, she feels like crying, if I understand her correctly. In her world, I reject her first by being rude and disrespectful, and I guess she figures that if I really wanted to belong to her I wouldn't be like that in the first place. She said in our recent argument that I'd looked at her as if I thought she was completely and utterly stupid, and that idea makes me cringe. I've never, ever thought anything like that - but that's what she sees when se looks in to my eyes. Ouch.

I wish she would simply train it out of me, like one does with dogs. She, on the other hand, thrives on my submission being genuine and authentic, coming from my own desire to submit to her, and has no interest in forcing me to submit. Training me, controlling me, guiding me, disciplining me when I have surrendered, that she does. But forcing me to it? Nope, that doesn't seems to be her kink.