#wind's ramblings

[windspirit-wild]

"That's gross, but keep touching me"

-Me, after @adhd-inkubus made a joke while simultaneously reaching out and stroking my bare thigh.

[windspirit-wild]

You're mine. You'll stay in good condition for me.

Rider, on why self care is my prime directive.

[windspirit-wild]

Forward Progress

I don’t know if it’s because of my childhood, or innate perfectionism, or part of being submissive – all three? – but failure makes my brain go crazy. The slightest mistake sets off alarm bells in my head that the World Is Ending and its All My Fault. Failure means that I Am BAD. Something is wrong with me, I am a mess, I can’t do anything right. My entire existence is a waste and a disappointment.

I’m very hard on myself, to say the least.

So all or nothing brain wants to excel at everything, lest I undo all my hard work and unearn my place in this world. Because it’s always an uphill battle for me, you see. I don’t have the right to be here – I have to earn basic rights and privileges through busting my ass in everything. Anything less means I am a burden, a hardship for others, an inconvenience. I didn’t come off the assembly line right, I have a flaw somewhere in my inner workings, and if I just work hard enough, no one will see.

No one will yell at me or hurt me, they’ll leave me alone, I can earn my quiet little corner.

Because of how my brain goes into overdrive when I stumble or mess up, it’s hard for me to admit it. I don’t hide it, but I have extreme anxiety over bringing forth this knowledge of my failings. The person I tell will hate me, they’ll know they wasted their time on me, they’ll leave.

Or they’ll just sigh and shake their head and turn away.

They’ll ignore it, because of course I messed up. I always mess up. It’s to be expected, they aren’t really surprised, and now I have to work extra hard to earn back what I’d had.

Attention, affection.

I think that’s also why I crave so much to be acknowledged as a good girl. It soothes all that anxiety in me, validates my efforts to be good.

Unless it becomes rote. Feels like it’s scripted, like there’s no real acknowledgment. Flippant. No attention, just empty words. All my work to be good, met with nothing, as though all that I did had no meaning. Could I have reported that I’d been good, without having done anything, and still meet the same answer?

It needs to be real. It needs to matter.

It’s some of why things fell apart with SF. I’m too detail oriented, too needy of feedback, too focused on the minutiae for him. He wanted obedience and submission because I wanted to give those things… but he didn’t care for the day to day oversight that I craved.

See, I’m like this at work, too. When I give a report to my superiors, or pass things along to the next shift, I am thorough. I don’t mean to say that I ramble and give unnecessary detail, oh no. Any incidents, any feedback from customers, anything out of the ordinary gets documented. It gets organized and put into a concise report with pertinent information. My paperwork and tasks are completed, and if not, then I leave behind an accounting of why not. I am hardline policy and procedure.

My bosses have always loved me.

So to report to my Dominant that I have done the tasks that they assign to me, and to be met with “yeah, ok. Good girl” and glazed over eyes? Eyes too busy at a screen to look at me? No acknowledgement when I go above and beyond? Barely a difference in respond when I don’t meet expectations?

Heart breaking. I must be doing something wrong. I must be not doing enough. I must be doing too much, because I’m too needy, and I shouldn’t report so much, I should just be quiet and hope, please, please notice that I was a good girl, your good girl, that I’m doing the things, I’m being good like you wanted, like you asked me to, like we agreed with our dynamic and like I’ve told you a thousand times in our meta talks.

 please

 We didn’t fit. And I still struggle to understand that I wasn’t doing anything wrong – we just weren’t compatible.

It’s one of the infinite reasons why I adore Rider. When I go to him to tell him how well I’m doing, it’s a good girl, and he checks in, he checks that I did All the Things, checks for things outside of my tasks that are also important. He’s engaged. He tells me that he’s proud of me

And oh how my heart swells! He’s proud! Of me! I made someone proud!

And when I mess up? And I feel skittish, scared that admitting it will mean Bad Things? When I go to him, feeling inside like some dumb clumsy kid who can’t do things right? When I struggle to make eye contact (a definite by-product from an abusive childhood – if I’ve been bad and I look someone in the eye, I’ll see their disappointment and they’ll see the broken flawed thing inside me through my eyes), hiding behind my hair, squirming and twisting my hands and struggling to speak…

When I bare myself to him, telling my mistakes?

Rider listens. He holds me. Often he reminds me that I didn’t fuck up nearly as bad as I feel like I did. Often he reminds me that things happen, that I’m human, that it’s ok. Because he guides and teaches, he considers ways to change my structure, so that I don’t fumble in the future.  He finds ways to help me do good next time, correcting defaults, rules, tasks, anything he can so that I am set up for success. And if it’s not the first time, if it’s a recurring pattern, a behavior of mine that is unacceptable?

Only then is there discipline and punishment. I am not bad – my behavior was bad. My being is not wrong or flawed, what I did was. He makes sure that I know it. That I know how I disappointed him. He applies force only when absolutely necessary, because he doesn’t want to have to. He knows how badly I want to please him, to obey him, to serve him. So he focuses on corrections and adjustments.

SF would only tell me “Don’t do that” when I failed. I was left bereft of instruction on how to do better, and my anxiety climbed the walls inside me, tearing me apart with the search for how to do better.

Rider helps me find solutions. He troubleshoots the problems.

See, he understands what it means to lead and guide and teach. He knows how important this is to me, to my well-being.

He tells me all the time, that we are a unit. We are we. When I asked him to accept my submission, when he choose to take up responsibility of me, he took up the task of taking care of me. It’s not all kinky fuckery, it’s hard work. And Rider accepts that, so when I fail, it’s on him, too, to find out how we can fix it *together* and move forward, do better in the future.

And of course, it’s on me, to account for myself to him and hold up my end of things.

He tells me all the time that he’s proud of me, and recently, that I am exceeding expectations. I am in a better place than I was before him, and he reminds me often. How I’m strong and confident and capable, pointing out when I forget, that I am surviving things that I didn’t think that I could, that I am further along than I was before.

That I will get through it

My heart soars every time he tells me these things, every time he tells me I’m his good girl, always, and that he’s got me. He sees me. He knows me. Even when I falter, it’s ok, because he’s there to hold me and get me back on my feet.

He’s teaching me that what matters is forward momentum, progress towards a better tomorrow. 

[windspirit-wild]

My subby heart flutters when...

He reminds me to take care of myself. It tells me that he cares, that he's paying attention to my needs. It's the structure within which I strive, that allows me to climb and fly because he helps me. It makes me well enough to do things. I will forget on my own, make excuses, put it off.

He doesn't let me.

Because, after all, in his girl. He needs me to take care of myself for him. He needs me to be ok, to be healthy, to be good.

This aspect of submission goes beyond kinky fuckery, this integral part of me. I yearn for rules to feel safe within, I crave guidance. The D/s dynamic gives me accountability, when I'd otherwise tell myself that it's fine to skimp on self care. It's an agreement between us, an exchange of power. He takes responsibility of me, and I listen and follow his directives. I know and trust that he has my best interests at heart and in mind.

His job as Dominant is to care for me, nurture me, guide me; mine as submissive is to follow his lead, to serve, to obey, to submit my momentary wants and whims to both of our needs that he is trying to protect. Because he protects me and keeps me safe, even from my self.

Though I might grumble or whine in the moment, I enjoy his reminders and rules. It means love, because my well being is in his thoughts. He actively is engaging with me to take care of me. I have his attention.

And that makes me happy.

[windspirit-wild]

There's my girl. You kneel for me, and I'll hold the sky up for you.

[windspirit-wild]

I woke up to yelling and screaming. A knock down drag out fight, sounded like it was right outside my room. Like Rider and his wife were going at each other, throwing things and stomping.

Woke up in a panic, afraid, alarms going off in my head. Turns out it was from upstairs, their neighbors. Rider and his wife were still sleeping. My immediate world was safe.

Unfortunately, my PTSD doesn't recognize it. All the reassurances I give myself don't quell the shaking or the defensive hunch I sink into. The feeling was still continuing. I wanted to wake up Rider, but I'm never comfortable imposing myself on someone, especially for something so stupid and small.

I texted him a brief message, got Bran my wolf stuffie, and curled up in the couch. Drifted in and out, flinching at approaching sound, until he woke up, responded to my message, and came out to sit next to me.

He explained what the fighting was probably about (neighbors are family) and that it was ok. Held my hand, gentle touch, told me to go back to sleep. And he watched over me, his presence there, soothing, any time I stirred or woke, he was right there.

Such a little thing, so small and so big. I hate my triggers and my reactions. I'm still off and low and weird, and might be for awhile until my body resets itself. But with him right there, I could slowly relax, uncurl myself, and wake up properly. Safe and loved.

[windspirit-wild]

Rider is the sweetest man. He's limited on what he can do for me while I drive cross country, but he's being protective and keeping an eye on me as best he can. He's keeping watch on my route, for weather, traffic, and construction. He knows whether my drive is safe, and checks in on me to make sure I'm taking breaks, good on gas, eating, drinking water, taking my meds, and not pushing myself too much or taking risks.

Even in this he is guiding and protecting, and it makes me feel safe and cherished and loved.

[windspirit-wild]

I have been spiraling between hurt and anger. I've been sleeping too much and eating too little. I don't want to do anything, I don't know what to do with myself.

After my co-workers left tonight, I felt alone with the closing shift. Socializing had kept it at bay, but now it attacked again. My depression has a tight hold on me, intrusive thoughts and memories invading my mind.

I realized that I wanted to cut. Not suicide, I don't feel that ideation, and haven't for awhile. But I wanted the pain and the release, the intense focus that comes with cutting.

I knew that was bad. And as I sought a knife, I noticed the permanent marker. I've always drawn, it relieves emotions. I used to draw on my hands at school, or my binders.

And I remembered others that do body writing when they need the distraction, the diversion from bad habits. I remember a post about drawing where you want to hurt.

So I picked up the marker instead.