You see, I’ve been facing some minor, yet nonetheless incredibly scary health problems. It’s been one thing after another and I’ve been feeling really shitty–like a rag doll getting tossed all over the place.
Where do I begin?
My hormones have been a mess, I’ve been having double periods and scary but ultimately okay ultrasound results of a “thickened uterus,” a viral chest cold with cough leading to bronchitis leading to a round of ineffective antibiotics, swollen and painful lymph nodes under my arms, a head-so-stuffed-I-can-hear-my-blood-circulate cold, LACTATION when I’m not nursing anymore (which happens to be a pituitary gland releasing prolactin in response of extreme stress–who knew?) …you name it.
It’s just been one shitty couple of months. I mean two months is almost three months and three months is a quarter of year or a WHOLE FUCKING SEASON.
And since my hormones have been screwy, AND I’ve been feeling so crappy, I’ve gotten a good head of anxiety built up. First of all, I’m normally pretty anxious to begin with, and I can get stuck in my head very easily. Before I know it, my imagination takes over and all of a sudden, that slightly concerning ultrasound becomes a fucking death sentence in my mind. I wind up shaking and crying and losing weight from not eating and clutching and holding my children so tightly they can’t breathe.
I suspect I haven’t been a lot of fun to be around the last couple of months. My husband and kids, bless them, haven’t asked me to move out. Yet.
I’ve been a walking box of banana crackers. Determined to “do something about it,” I wound up in my therapist’s office, totally fruiting my loop, reviewing some breathing techniques and trying to get my anxiety down to a manageable level. All that helped, but there’s one thing that worked faster than the breathing techniques and the yoga and the talking and you’re gonna shit when I tell you what it is.
When I was pacing around the house wringing my hands and crying because I was just so twisted up in my head, my husband suddenly whipped out a large wooden spoon from his back pocket that he’d grabbed from the kitchen and the bastard slapped me really hard on the ass with it. It immediately jolted me out of my head and back into my body and to my utter shock it felt really good. Like, really, really good!
I’ve heard of people with anxiety problems keeping a rubber band on their wrist and snapping it when they feel themselves lifting off. In the past I’ve bitten my tongue or pinched myself. Those things are helpful, but that hard slap was the best. It was more pain than I would have inflicted on myself, and I needed a BIG jolt. It wasn’t sexual when my husband did it, but in that split second of moderately intense pain on my left cheek I suddenly saw Sexy Time spanking in a whole new light. That flash of pain was what I needed to seat me back into myself.
After catching a glimpse of the response he was looking for, he chased me around the house hitting, spanking, and slapping my ass and thighs with the spoon. Before I even knew it, even as I was begging him to stop, I was laughing, despite the fact that only a few moments earlier I had absolutely no sense of humor because, well, you know–I was preparing to die.
Now I find myself wondering how to translate that miraculously rewarding experience to the bedroom because, to be honest, I’ve never quite understood the whole spanking thing before. It always seemed kind of silly to me and I’ve always pictured some old dude in his black socks and undershirt with his boxers around his ankles getting spanked with a paddle over the lap of some leather clad dominatrix. Or I envision some of the cheesy butt slapping that goes on in basically every porno ever made.
But maybe it’s not like that, huh?
Maybe it’s actually kind of fun and soothing in a strange kinky ironic way and not something reserved solely for repressed business men and girls who like to be treated like naughty little sluts. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Far be it from me to judge repressed business men and naughty little sluts. In fact, if it weren’t for repressed business men and naughty little sluts, nobody would read this blog!) Maybe spanking can be for people like me–people who need a little help getting seated within themselves before they can truly and fully enjoy a little Sexy Time. Maybe pain can bring healing as long as it’s applied by the right hand (or the right wooden spoon).
I’ll tell you what: it seemed to work a treat for me. And I never ever thought I’d be anything but emotionally and physically traumatized by such a thing.
A couple of posts ago, I said that I loved the movie Secretary. In that film, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character was a mentally disturbed woman with a miserable home life who resorted to cutting as a means of releasing all that bad tension.
As the movie progressed, her boss commanded her to stop cutting herself and then he started spanking her whenever she made a mistake. She stopped cutting herself and started purposefully making mistakes so she could get her spanking, because–just like cutting–the spanking made her feel better. The bonus was that it was actually healthier than cutting. It turned out to be a pretty good deal and the two fell in love. It was a twisty kind of love, but it healed them both in a way that was far healthier than they were before.
I understand that movie on a far deeper level today than I did ten days ago, I can tell you that.
So I think I might try bringing the spanking thing to the next level. Maybe we’ll bring it into the bedroom, try it in a more sexual environment. Who knows? Maybe it will help me stop thinking about my damned grocery list and start thinking more about what’s going on RIGHT NOW THIS MOMENT. To get me out of my head and into my body? That’s something that’s been a problem for me for a very long time…
You find new things at strange times and in strange places sometimes, Toy with Mes. Tell me, are you into a little pain in the bedroom? Are you a spanker or a spankee? Do you need it to get off? Have you ever even considered it? Do you find yourself considering it now, like I do?