Losing It

Jun. 1st, 2010 03:51 am
topthemonkey: (Default)

The Monkey has been struggling with "freak out" attacks for as long as I've known her. These are times when she'll scream, and then start hurting herself, attempting to bite herself, or hitting her leg or her head or some inanimate object. There are weeks our of the month when this is a more likely occurence, mainly before her period starts.

Handling this behavior is somewhat of a challenge to me. I usually do the worst possible thing in response to this: I fight her, or yell at her, or tell her to "shut up". These things don't help, but I can't maintain rational behavior when I have someone screaming in my ear. Sorry. I don't think that's an unreasonable expectation.

Today, she missed a train to go see her girlfriend. And screaming ensued. I told her, in the spur of the moment "okay, now you're not going at all." I said it because I didn't want to feel like I was rewarding this behavior, and because I was angry that such a beyond-her-control thing could cause this.

I tried to take her phone away. She cursed at me (a common one is "fuck you"), she threatened to bite me, and she cried a lot after that. I got out of the car, walked around to her side, wiped her tears, and held her, and we worked out a plan to recover from a missed train.

And within a half hour, she was remorseful, and just felt more terrible about herself for having done and said those things.

I hate this. I hate that there's something inside her so broken that this is the default action. The fact that she screams in her sleep seems to suggest it's a "hardwired" behavior, not something conscious. I hate that the drugs she's been assigned for this basically knock her unconscious for 8 hours. I feel as though it's the action of some spoiled child who can't get their way: except instead of not getting her way from the parent, her unconscious expresses this frustation at someone to whom screaming at will not help. Screaming at me will not make the train stop, it won't help her find the bra you can't find, and it won't fix her back problems. Neither will hitting herself, the interior of my car, or me.

Worse still is that she's been warning me of this. "If I feel the need to smash something, don't worry, it won't be your laptop". The best I can relate it, I suppose, is to Tourettes Syndrome. (I went to a High School that had a program specializing in it). One of my friends who had it explained their tics as "I know it's coming, and I can delay it, or hold it back, but it actually hurts to do it". That is, knowing it's coming doesn't mean you can stop it. Just because it's exploding slowly doesn't mean it's not exploding.

It saddens me that she does this around me because she feels safe enough to do so. Her girlfriend has never seen her like this. She doesn't (generally) do it in public places, or crowds. Just when she's with me. Should I feel privileged?

I think the best/only things I can do here, sadly, are preventative:

  • If you can't make a train with 20-30 minutes TO SPARE, you're not making it. You don't know if I might have to stop for gas or have trouble with the car. You can't predict when you'll lose something and we'll have to go back upstairs for it.

  • Need to develop a better meditative/relaxation technique. Yoga, breathing, stressball you carry everywhere...anything.

  • You can clearly recognize when is the worst time for this. You know when a storm is brewing, how can we work with that? Can you go somewhere, alone, and do it, and get it out? Scream into a pillow? Tear up a phone book?

I've got a pounding headache and it's 2:30 AM. I'm still at work. The monkey is off with her girl. And even despite writing all this, I don't feel totally calmed down.

topthemonkey: (Default)

I know the monkey had started to (on paper) write an entry, but I'm here in front of a keyboard so I'll have at it.

We're still both poly: she in the "I get romantically involved with other people" (just one person, I feel terribly full with Top and her) sense, and me seemingly in the "I take on, train, mentor, and work with other people" sense. I'm still not 100% happy with all phases of her relationship, but I'm working toward it.

The monkey has another Mistress as well, a cruel one who has also been making demands of me. Her name is Sallie Mae. I refer to her as an abusive spouse, generally. While the monkey is at this point spending her own money (that she had previously given to me) on these debts, it is only a matter of a few months until that runs out. Next month, I think. On top of other debts I'm now paying for her. Top is referring here to the hospital bills incurred after we were run over in late December.

It bothers me that the monkey has a masters, and it's not really being applied. I suppose I see it as a tool: if I had determined that I had the need for an expensive tool, that I'd be certain of its need, and its use before undergoing on purchasing it, knowing full well I'd be paying it off for many years.

Here's the thing
. I didn't have a good enough GPA in undergrad to get into a PhD program in the humanities that was remotely attractive, so I went into the Masters program viewing it as a bridge to a PhD program, to show prospective schools that I was capable of doing grad work. About halfway through my Masters program, I realized that I was rather sure a PhD program, at least at this point in my life, was not right for me. The program I attended was actually geared towards working teachers who wanted more credentials. So, uh, if I got a job teaching I'd start off making more money (in theory) and it would make me more attractive to schools I applied to work at (again, in theory) but (a) I have no teaching certification and (b) with my social anxiety where it is, I don't think it would be wise to enter teaching at this time. Though in my job searches I have found part time English professor openings at community colleges, which I actually think might be a good idea.

I've been pushing her, gently but persistently, to find work. I somehow think she'd do okay as a barista at either Starbucks or the local chain: the time on her feet would probably not be great for her (my back/neck/shoulders are in pain every day lately, made worse by activities like doing the dishes), but it's customer facing, and would give her some experience. Maybe some social comfort. I've also told her to submit an application at the library to become a page. Thusfar, it's been a big problem. It terrifies her. The most I've been able to do at this point is get her to fill out a template job application, so all her info is there for when she fills out others.

We have a bookstore within easy walking distance, where she might do well, too.

The eventual goal here is that she manages to cover her student loans, and put at least 10% away to savings: the rest, as far as I'm concerned, can be "fun money". Comics, dates, road trips with the girlfriend, trips to literary conferences. I have not asked the Top to pay for any of these things in the past 5 months, at least. He has offered on a few occassions to buy me comics, I have expressed hesitance, he has insisted. I handle the living costs.

She told me last night that she really doesn't feel like a "good slave." I don't believe this to be the truth at all. I'm guessing he means that he believes me to be a good slave, not that he disbelieves the validity of my feelings on the matter. I always see room for improvement, but I know she's fighting the good fight against depression and other personal problems. I know it's not easy.

Right now, I've been putting most of the focus, every day, on printing out a list of things I'd like her to do throughout the day. This has really helped. Chores, personal projects, GRE work, grooming. I've forbidden her to get on the internet each morning until she's both eaten and showered (this has been good for me); there's been too many days in the past I've come home to find her still in what she slept in. (At some point, I would love to be able to have software to do this.) On this list I try to put our evening's plans, as well as something I will do for her that day. I find that unnecessary; I mean, letting me know probable evening plans is nice, but so far as doing things for me every day, you already do that, just by being my Master.

She's been back in therapy for a month or so now. It took more than a year of asking to get her to do this. Because I feel guilty about the cost.

She'll be going back to the chiropractor tomorrow. This too took many months of prodding. Because I feel guilty about the cost.

Maybe, slowly, taking care of herself will not be such a hard concept. We're working on it. It's tough because Top didn't know me 5, 10 years ago. He can't see how far I've come, how bad things were at times. Yes, I had a job then, which is a big sign of progress to him. But my mental health state was far, far worse than it is now.

We went through our Netflix queue and tried to delete all the "depressing" movies from it. We've been watching a lot of Miyazaki, and we've been slowly going through Night Court.

I still love her more every day. I have been feeling similarly.

topthemonkey: (really)

This isn't a disclaimer per se, I just want to explain a few things. I think this entry portrays me as a pretty crappy slave, and I generally don't think of myself that way. The Top puts more emphasis on my mental illness issues than I would like, both in this entry and in general. I know those who know me well will not do so, but a caveat: please do not take this entry as representative of me as a person and/or slave.  My own disclaimer.: You're not a crappy slave at all.  You're wonderful, and the whole point of this Journal is that people know it.

The monkey was having a hard time with her PMDD a few nights ago, and it came down to her attacking both herself, and me. It was spurred by her telling me not to do something (I think but am not sure I was hitting her butt with a crop, gently), and me laughing about it, because it seemed like a silly request: one I would honor, but the fact that I was smiling, laughing, light hearted, set her off. Actually it was set off by this: The Top took my glasses and was laughing at my squinting. I protested and he told me it was adorable. I was very frustrated.  As I remarked to you on IM just now, it kinda...remined me of Velma from Scooby Doo for reasons I can't quite explain.  I love the little pouty face you make when I take them.  It's the same pouty face you make when I take your nose.  If it's a serious thing, then we'll work it out.

She got really angry, and started biting and pinching me, trying to wrestle it out of my hands. I kept pushing her off, but she kept coming at me, despite my saying no.

After, she wound up on the floor, crying, for several minutes, not liking who she was at all. And I held in things I wanted to say, because I didn't think they'd help. Yelling and screaming wasn't the answer, but neither was laughing (you considered laughing at my crying?). I wanted to tell her "stop crying, you're being ridiculous, get off the floor", but that would have brought tears, so I stood, and watched, and let her cry out. That was kind of depressing, being curled up in a ball on the floor and having you just stand there silently, making no gesture towards me, not offering tissues.  Given what had just transpired, I wasn't sure HOW to react, honestly.  I offered you a paper towel, tho.

It all happened so quickly I can't honestly remember events now, but maybe she'll fill them in.

The next day, when I brought her out of bed, I put her leash on, and as she was using the bathroom I got a set of cuffs, and told her she was going to get her hair cut for attacking me. She immediately said "red". After a moment of trying to convince her otherwise (you said that I was calling red because I did not trust you, which did not jive with my understanding of safewords or trust), to which she replied "you're not honoring red?" I went with it and took the leash off, I didn't have the typical "correct" reaction of saying "there, there, it's allright". I just felt bitter and angry. I don't think there's any "correct" response though perhaps some are more productive than others. Very rarely do you say "there, there, it's all right" when I call "red.No, the response I'm describing is the typical response most people use in red, that we use in Yellow.

In the BDSM context, "red" is supposed to stop an intense scene (I would contend that it is intended to pause whatever activity is going on. "Intense" and "scene" are so subjective I disagree, though.  Think of the attitude it's given at our local playspace.): safewords are mainly used in places where other forms of communication break down, for example, during a flogging screaming "stop," "no," "ow," or crying or struggling. We use it more thoroughly, but she's used it in the past against taking a bath (I don't remember that one), or getting up after not having had enough sleep, or doing things she felt were embarrassing, as opposed to painful. There was context to all of those, and just saying it like that makes me seem like a brat. Also, "red" is not limited to when things are painful; more often than not, when I have called it the reasons have been emotional. Red is also useful when approaching a "hard limit." For us this generally means permanent damage. Her hair is not quite a "hard limit," as such. Though if I had my druthers it would be. This may be something we can talk about.  I don't want to concede it, though.  Your body is mine, love.  We've cut it short before, and I've told her of events that will lose it for her, without question.

Throughout the day, I continued to feel pent-up anger and aggression, and in the evening, I simply stated the sum total of what had been going on inside me. She asked a question about something else (I have no idea what, or if it was at all related), and I realized that the level of honesty was to the point where I needed to say them, and that it wouldn't be damaging to say so, and I said it:

"A real slave would have sat down and taken her punishment like a good girl."

Her response was "are you trying to get a rise out of me?". I explained that I wasn't, that I had just been thinking of how "real" the BDSM element in our relationship felt, discussing it with a friend. Recalling how insulted I had been when another friend had said something to the effect of: "as much as you guys like to claim you're 24/7, you're really not because you don't have complete control over her." I asked other deep questions like "do you like being mine?" and "do you like wearing that collar?" Make no mistake, this has come up in discussion before, what if she no longer wanted that aspect of our relationship (in hypothetical terms, not because I've contemplated leaving I was going to put that, but thought this entry was already getting tangential enough) -- but in this case, there was no doubt that she wanted it.

He also said he wished that I would of my own accord prepare to be shaved down.
I told him that his anger would fade faster than my hair would grow back.  I wasn't doubting that.  Neither should you.  What you should worry about is if my anger fades before I'm done buzzing down your whole scalp. Some time passed, maybe 5-10 minutes, and I was thinking about whether or not I was going to do what he wanted. On her own, and without being ordered, she went over to the bathroom area and took out the hair clippers (we actually use pet-grade clippers, they can tear through the thickest hair better than most home-grade stuff), and got out the handcuffs and the leash. I cuffed her and told her to sit down.

Before I turned on the clippers, she looked at me somewhat defiantly and said "I'm doing this for health insurance". Actually I said that I was earning my health insurance, to which you agreed.  Indeed, my memory was a little fuzzy. I also said that I wasn't sure if the fact that he was willing to risk whatever anger and resentment came was a positive or negative thing.  How much resentment are you feeling? She cried a bit while I did it, but in the end I only buzzed off a few inches at the base of her neck, and then brushed the rest of her hair back and put it in a ponytail.And you were intensely aroused.  I was aroused after.  I don't recall being aroused during.

I have no doubt that if I would have taken more, that she would have grown more upset, and who knows, that day may come at some point. Like some of the most severe punishments our relationship has seen, I didn't want to do a set amount, I wanted to do it until I wasn't angry anymore. The "beat her until I'm not angry anymore" can work out better or worse (on my side) than the set number method. The fact that she took the punishment on willingly...did a lot to alleviate that anger. But I needed also to make it clear this wasn't just a "mindfuck," wasn't just a case of my making her sit down to see if she'd sit.

But this time, I don't think I ever wanted to shave her down to nothing: I like seeing her long hair as a length of how long she's been with me. We've trimmed for some split ends, so really, it's more like "I've been with you at least this long." What I wanted was to see her put on the cuffs (it's a bit tricky to handcuff your own hands behind your back), sit down, and take it like a good girl. I wanted to have her there, helpless, and say "I'm sorry," and know that absolution was there. I wanted her to trust her master instead of calling red as soon as the order was given. And in reading this after I write it, she may once again feel bad about it.

As her master, I need to show her that I've given it chance after chance, but that I need to push, ever gently, on the rules here, and hold her to them. That's the problem, though. If it happens and you don't punish me, over and over again, of course I'm not going to take threats of punishment seriously. We discussed this.  Which is why I was annoyed at your calling red.  It does not work well for me. She's expressed this. I told her while she was showering that after it had grown in, if she did it again, I'd shave off the same spot, and if she more bad things before then, I'd just take more. I would much rather let her slide on dishes being left in the sink on a night she went to bed sick, than let this go by. Yes, she was in extreme emotional circumstances, but that explains it, not excuses it.

Make no mistake, if I find her doing something like using drugs, or deliberately not taking her meds, or something like that, I won't hesitate to take everything, but having it groomable is a work-related thing, to at least some degree, and it does affect her self esteem. It's not self-esteem exactly. It's really complicated. If I wanted to damage that, I could of course be evil and strike fear into her with the words "reverse mohawk" or "mullet."

In short, I believe there would have been far less angst if she'd have tried hard to believe that I understand her attachment to her hair, and understand the relationship between it and her self-esteem. See above. One of the things she needs to understand is that I'd rather -- much rather -- have us both know that all's forgiven, but she's going to look a little less like she wants to, than have us see each other in ways we don't want the other to see. I would rather look at her and see a girl who made a mistake that will take a few months to fully fade, but whom I forgive fully now. The physical matches the emotional, and it makes sense to me.

Note carefully that I've told her if she wants to dye her hair, that she may (after discussing it with me) but after she does, once her roots start coming in, she's getting buzzed down to nada. Because she's as attached to her hair as she is, she hasn't tried using it to "buy" anything with it, although if she did, it might work. I never even thought of that. That's not really how my mind works.

From a slightly more kinked perspective, I like the concept of this kind of haircut. It's something I associate with learning, and privilege. It's an extreme change of appearance that leaves no permanent damage. New slaves are "fuzzy," and longer hair comes with age, experience, and time. You earn your long hair by not making the mistakes that cause you to lose it, or in a more extreme sense, because you're required to cut it regularly. I also like it because it counters some of the norms of traditional beauty, at least to some degree: reference Natalie Portman's character in V for Vendetta, or in a more extreme example, Britney Spears. (To be fair, Natalie looked hot, Britney didn't, but the pics of Britney were pretty badly candid.) And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love the feel of it under my fingers.

I wonder sometimes, what will happen if it gets worse with age. I love her dearly, and know that she loves me. I know that sometimes when TheCrazy sets in, it's easy to lose sight of that. She's already on a cocktail of medications, and I'm loathe to add in Yet Another to the mix, when many forms of birth control could cancel out existing medications.

I need to get a pic of the back of her head put up before it grows out too much.

topthemonkey: (Default)
For the first time, I feel like my relationship with the Top may be in serious jeopardy because of my mental illness.
topthemonkey: (Default)
Neither of us posted about it, but I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a therapist. It's later today, in San Francisco. It took a lot for me to do that.

I've only been to San Francisco a couple of times, I've only taken public transportation there once when we first moved here, and I've become a lot more anxious about, well, doing stuff independently I guess. Since before the Top and I got together but it's increased a lot with him.

So as is totally not unusual for me I wrote out very carefully what buses and trains I would have to take, how long the rides were, departure and arrival times, alternate times in case I was early or late, fare costs, and walking directions when necessary. I figured I was going to have to walk from the Top's work to the bus station to get going on the first leg of the trip, and getting there would take an hour and a half. Getting back would take more like two. All of this took some times. I was told the Top wouldn't have a car, so I couldn't count on a ride to a train station to eliminate at least one bus portion of the trip.

The Top comes home yesterday and tells me that not only does he have a car but for work he's going to have to be in San Francisco (though not near my therapist) so I can just take one short train ride to my therapist.

I . . . was upset. The Top did not understand, as he saw this as making life easier for me. And, yes, in the long-term (shorter long-term?) it does. But immediately it means I have to throw out the pages of painstaking directions I made and start all over again. A lot of effort wasted.  I realize that the situation changed, new information was received, etc. But I really hate changing plans last minute, especially when I've planned it all out so thoroughly.

I emotionally prepare myself for things to go a certain way. This gives me a sense of confidence and stability, when I'm so thoroughly dependent on the Top and incredibly anxious about going farther than the driveway by myself.

OK, now the Top tells me that he will be leaving San Francisco far before I will be done with therapy. He's had this information all along. I guess he figured it would be obvious to me. I'm really glad he told me this before we got going and I left the return directions at home, leaving me to figure out a two hour trip involving two buses and a train without schedules or anything.

The Top has admitted that he "flies by the seat of his pants," changes plans last minute all the time, and enjoys this. I do not enjoy these things, for the previously stated reasons. The Top does not seem to understand this. The change in plans make the trip there shorter, cheaper, and easier for me. He told me I could go in the way I planned, which would be sort of ridiculous.

This time the last-minute change in plans is not his fault, I know. I don't mean to blame him. It's just distressing to me.
topthemonkey: (Default)
Place we are staying at now has no oven. No oven=no baking. Sadness

I am burnt out on school like I never thought I could be. There goes getting my Ph.D. before I turn 30.

The Top wants me to make doctor appointments. But all the people I have looked into and would be comfortable seeing (therapist, general practitioner, gyno) are in San Francisco. This is problematic because I *loathe* going to doctor's appointments by myself (especially appointments where they make you remove your clothes and poke you with cold metal objects) and their hours are, of course, approximately what the Top's work hours are.

On a lighter note, it is terribly amusing listening to the Top fart in his sleep.
topthemonkey: (Default)
I have been trying to explain to the Top for months that I need to be seeing a therapist in-person at least once a week. I've tried to explain that this is crucial for my mental health, that I'm depressed and lonely. I've researched therapists that are nearby, ones that are in his health plan. He's said that we can't really afford it right now. I've accepted that.

The Top has been trying to punish me into taking care of myself. You cannot punish depression out of someone. I mean, it's an additional motivation to take care of myself, yeah. But mental illness is strong and deep-seated.

Tonight he decided I need to see a therapist because I'm not getting better. He's been working a lot since we moved here, but he's just noticing this now? It wasn't clear from all the times I explicitly said "I'm not getting better, I need help"? He feels badly for not being able to "fix" me himself. I am not a thing to be fixed. He says he can't take this anymore, can't take a slave who doesn't care properly for herself (and therefore her Master's property).

On the one hand, finally I can get some fucking help with this shit. On the other hand, why didn't we have this conversation months ago? I feel hurt that addressing my mental health issues on a deeper level is only a priority when he decides it affects him sufficiently.
topthemonkey: (Default)
The Top was not pleased by my last entry. He was hurt, I think, that I was feeling like he was less interested in me. He pointed out that I have not been serving him well lately, and that my personal care daily chores (waking up early-ish, taking my meds, showering, changing clothes) are just as much D/s as flogging and fucking. I know this. And when my personal care starts to decline, that's a big warning sign that I'm depressed. When I'm depressed, the Top feels as if he should be able to do something to bring me out of it, and it frustrates him that it doesn't really work that way.

Today at lunch the Top suggested shaving my head and starting over to help me remember my place. Sort of a reboot. I immediately started to cry. He said he didn't know what punishment he could devise, as none of them seemed to sink in. I disagree. I mean, punishment helps, but . . . I don't know any foolproof method for getting me to consistently take care of myself. I know I am my Master's property and as such I have to care for myself. I know I have to do what he says. It feels so simple but then in reality it all breaks down.

This isn't like asking permission to get into bed where I forget, get punished, repeat a few times, then remember and don't do it again. This comes from a different place. It's not just about old habits or patterns of behavior. It's also about dragging myself through daily routine despite depression (hot alliteration there).

The Top is realizing that, to a certain degree at least, I need to be micromanaged (at this point in my life and our relationship). I need someone to say, you need to do xyz and stay on top of me until I get it done, don't let me do other things.

I wonder if play would work as a reward for getting things done, as a motivation. Not orgasms, because while those are nice, and I could probably benefit from more of them, I want bondage. I miss my cage. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in it in the past 3 months. It really helps me re-focus.

But, like all things in this relationship, I never want to feel like I'm pushing the Top to do something he doesn't want to do. And I feel like if I complain enough, things will change for a few days or even weeks, and then we slip back into a place where he thinks I don't need that* anymore. Right now, though, I can't imagine myself not needing that.


*That=micro-management and increased levels of play, I guess.

regressing

Jan. 12th, 2009 06:02 pm
topthemonkey: (Default)
I don't like being made to wear a diaper. It traps heat liek whoa, it's bulky and uncomfortable. Maybe for a scene once in awhile, but not for long-term. It's also very difficult for me to, y'know, "go" in a diaper. I'm told with practice you can overcome that but I don't  have enough interest to work on it.

I have to wear one until tomorrow, because I didn't shower this morning after I got up. This is a new punishment. I thought about ignoring it (the Top is at work and not here to make me) and just taking whatever he gave me later, like a beating, but quickly decided against it.


I can't see the new therapist anymore because of money. Have to find a new one, that I can't see for at least a few weeks anyway.


I'm back to where I was nearly two years ago, not eating because I'm too scared to go downstairs because I don't want to interact with other people there. At least, not without the Top there with me.
topthemonkey: (v)
The Top insisted that we watch this movie tonight. It makes him happy. One of the two title characters, Joon, is a paranoid schizophrenic. I am very scared that I will become schizophrenic in my 30's [the most common age for schizophrenia to manifest (I'm in my early-mid-twenties for those of you who don't know)] as happened to two of my relatives.So far it hasn't been triggering but we're less than half an hour in and I understand there's a hospital scene (I'm guessing relating to Joon's mental illness) and I'm a bit nervous. I've been having an  . . . off day, to begin with.

I don't know if it makes me pleased or upset that the thought that this would trigger me didn't even occur to the Top. It just makes him happy and he wanted to share it with me. This is the part where I get down on myself and think about how nothing can be simple and I have to complicate everything and sully this film that the Top enjoys so much with my stupid mental illness issues.
topthemonkey: (Default)
As I've mentioned several times before, I often crave more (dare I say it?) micromanagement, more frequent play, more structure. I'm going to focus on the last one for the moment. I think this is common for slaves/submissives/bottoms (which I am), that they thrive with structure. I think structure also really helps people who have mental illnesses, particularly clinical depression (which I do). But at the same time, I wonder if my craving for more structure is really something else,

I know that what I need from a long-term, serious partner intimidates a lot of people. I don't want to call myself high-maintenance, but it takes a lot of work to make a Master/slave relationship work on a daily basis, and it can be a lot of work to care for a partner who has severe depression. I often feel guilty because of these things, though I know the Top is well aware of them and has committed to me nonetheless.

I worry that I want the surrender of slavery because I want to escape from responsibilities; that this is amplifying the problems my depression causes and not helping to solve them.


Structure is incredibly useful for persons suffering with depression. Setting clear, attainable daily tasks (even if your dynamic is long distance) can do a lot to keep a depressed mood from becoming inability to get out of bed. . . Simple, everyday tasks can be easier to tolerate if they're turned into power dynamic chores, rather than just one more thing they have to try to manage on their own.

When Your Submissive Has Major Depressive Disorder


Andre still occasionally cherishes the idea that all his problems could be solved with the application of enough structure, rules, and stern management on my part -- in other words, that I could force him out of his mood problems. I've learned, though, that this is not possible. You can't beat someone out of chemical illness. You can't micromanage them out of it. Some things are beyond the control of dominants.

In and Out of the Black Pit


I worry that the Top thinks this:

I was afraid that her submissive nature was born of her sordid past, and her submission to me was out of fear of abandonment. Although I was madly in love with this woman, I had to make sure she was in the relationship for me, and not out of habit.

Patience, Young Grasshopper... or hang on for the ride.


And still, I feel this:

I still feel so selfish and needy and greedy and awful. Because he gives me so much and here I am, asking for even more. But my mental/emotional health improves drastically if I am getting frequent orgasms, if I'm getting regular bdsm play.

I wonder if sometimes when I lash out, at the Top or myself, it's really just because I need to be hurt. I need to be bound tightly and beaten. And maybe, when I lash out during play, I need to be pushed through. I don't know.

And still, there's something inside me that feels so unsatisfied, such a deep longing.


on having needs

topthemonkey: (Default)
Anyway, on the subject of my frustrations with therapy.  Arguably, this could be its own post.  If anyone (the monkey included) thinks so, let me know and I'll make it as such.

This isn't the first missed appointment we've had. It was the first I missed with my psychiatrist. I've missed ONE with my therapist. Some of which have involved me driving out 15 miles away in heavy traffic both ways at 6:30 only to find the appointment was at 4:30.  I think there was another one, too.  And quite frankly?  This is the monkey's mental health and well-being.  If she's not going to be RELIGIOUS about this stuff, then I don't know what she should be fastidious about.

We'll couple this with something that stresses me out a lot, and I might as well list the figures here.  Each weekly therapy appointment runs me $110, each psychiatrist appointment (every two to four weeks) runs me $130.  Plus the cost of the meds (about $75 a month? It is DEFINITELY less than that).  Plus the time it takes me off of work to go to these more-often-than-not during-the-day appointments.  I schedule them as late as I possibly can. A one hour appointment kills about three hours during my work day.  And they're not group sessions.  They're sessions during which I sit in the car (much as I am doing now), and try to get something done, phone calls made, anything.

And I *gladly* will pay it to have her get the care I need.  -raises eyebrow- The care YOU need, sir?  Actually that was supposed to be "the care I need to know she's getting" but it does sound rather freudian like that doesn't it...? I will gladly do this all for her -- but it's critical to realize here, that I can ONLY do this by virtue of the job that I'm being pulled away from...so there NEEDS to be some level of prioritization here.

In theory, all this money gets receipts, which are then to be filed off to the monkey's insurance company for reimbursement -- it's covered by her stepfather in another state.  Factors we don't know are a) where the claim check gets mailed to (my stepfather, as he is the policy holder), b) when it will come (within 30 days of their receiving it, if there are no problems with it), and c) who it will be made out to (again, my stepfather, the policy holder).  I say in theory because I recently (as in yesterday) found out the last claim they made had been rejected because they couldn't read the doctor's handwriting (since when is that supposed to be legible?) -- and this too is a sore point, there were literally weeks upon weeks where I kept patiently expecting the monkey to file these claims, only to find some reason they hadn't been done. I knew they were important but you gave no repercussions whatsoever for my not filing them.  During that time I was having a lot of trouble giving you repurcussions for not doing things.  At this time -- please get it filed by next wednesday.  If you need anything, ask me.  Fair?

I believe the state right now, at this very moment is that even though the monkey knows the last claims were rejected, the new ones have not been filed.  I could be wrong.  Please let me be wrong. It's been one day. ONE. DAY.  See above.

At this point I've more or less accepted the fact that I'm throwing -- have literally thrown -- thousands of dollars into a black hole, and that this is the cost of having a mentally healthy monkey.   Yes I'd love it if he could figure out the local buses/public transit and get himself to these things.  I'd probably also be very happy if (as my original plan was) that his reimbursements were cyclic -- i.e. that he sent them in once a month, and that as the checks came he'd use them for future care, on a rolling basis.  Then again, I'd be perfectly happy if either of these two therapists would take a credit card (such as my HSA account, which has $1200 just sitting in it, and is MADE FOR STUFF LIKE THIS).

The monkey's also on a lot of medications -- she normally needs 8-10 hours of sleep a night.  A new drug she's on the past few months makes her need a solid 12 .  I hate this medication.  It doesn't even always work. It works really, really well for the first 2 weeks, when it knocks me out. Then it sort of wears down as it makes me sleep less.

She's being treated for depression -- and yet the DRUG CAUSES THE MOST OBVIOUS SYMPTOM OF DEPRESSION. Well, technically, that drug is one for high blood pressure with eradicating nightmares as an inadvertent side effect that I'm taking it for, not depression.   Yes, but depression overall is one of the base things you suffer from -- either as a disorder on it's own, or as a symptom of other disorders, it's a big warning sign.  And we've been over the warning signs on my own end from this kind of sleep.

Since the monkey only likes to go to bed with me (and it's 2am as I write this) it's pretty much a given that the monkey will not be awake before 3PM tomorrow.  This has sadly become the norm.  This is what I've been like since before I was even on medication. If I stay up late, I'm going to sleep late. A lot of people are like this. I will always need more sleep than you do.  Yes, but this sleep is...deeper...can't wake up for anything kind of sleep. I've told her to discuss this with her doctor, and he insists that this effect should fade.  It's only been how many months now, of increasing dosages? It does fade. Then he ups the dosage and it starts again. But now I'm at a plateau and I'm going to see how this works out.  Because as the side effects subside and start to fade, so does the drug's effectiveness?  I'm leery there.

This stuff is not always so easy.  There's kinda more I want to say, but it's already getting long here.
topthemonkey: (Default)
So in answer to the monkey's recent entry, rather than commenting inline, I'm simply going to annotate my own comments.

First and foremost, while when I got the text messages from her doctor (my voicemail transcribes them to text and sends them to me) -- it was already way too late to call him and reschedule.  It wasn't a disaster -- she still had enough meds to last until the the doctor could squeeze her in on a lunch break to see her.  (She did NOT have enough meds to make the next normal appointment).  We were out, shopping, doing nice things for the monkey, and I really didn't want to kill it.  I had just gotten her some very cute jeans, and we were in the process of getting her some NECESSARY and also ON SALE stuff from victoria's secret.  I was a little miffed at the time about the missing of the appointment, but I wasn't furious.  I got furious when I actually had to spend twice the money that I hadn't put aside.  We'd done other things this week that were already somewhat expensive (necessary travel, plus some nice recreational purchases), and after the stress of a long trip, it was the last thing I needed.  That was the time I was angry, and that was the time I wanted to take action.

When I brought her home from her doctor's appointment, I had envisioned basically getting things over quickly, then letting her take her meds, and sleep it off, no harm no foul.  Instead, the lack of sleep made her unable to take what I wanted her to -- even unable to take being put in a position and lectured (without being punished, as I was going to try).

If, two weeks ago, I'd have said "you're going to be punished for this when I get charged double two weeks from now and money is tight for other reasons" A) I would have been psychic as a part or ME assumed this would be negotiated down and B) I would have gotten two weeks of dread.  I no longer talk about punishments with the monkey in advance.  I used to.  It's just led to frustration and being attacked.  Now, when I'm upset, I don't bring it up in any place where it's a "trapping" situation, if I can help it.  I don't yell, I don't curse.  I just slowly burn and think about how to handle things.  If the monkey asks if I'm upset, I will be honest, but I do not prepare for a 45 minute car ride by saying "you're going to be spanked when you get home."

So now, being punished is always a surprise.  (Trust me, you don't want to talk about punishment when the monkey has her hand on your genitals.)  Quickly started, quickly done.

Yes, missing the appointment was a mistake.  It's minor.  It's not the end of the world.  I told her these at the time.

Neither is being punished.  Yes, it's unpleasant, and it hurts, but...this is what the monkey signed on for.  You knew I was a snake when you picked me up.

As we just discussed in the car -- I feel it's important to be able to channel my frustrations into punishments.  When the monkey does something that upsets me, which is as a result of breaching of standing rules or expected behaviors (for a silly example....being responsible for his own mental healthcare), and it makes me genuinely angry, I want to be able to dissipate that through punishment.  I flatly refuse to take out my frustrations on the monkey (or on anyone, really) for other situations.  I.e. I won't want to flog the monkey because I had a shit day at work, or because I'm angry at my roommate.  I don't want a human punching bag or stress-doll.  I've got video games and loud music for those other frustrations.  But when *she* does something wrong, there's a defined space in our protocol to deal with it.  I'm not sure what, if anger, I'm supposed to feel when I'm doing this?  I don't feel joy.  I don't feel relaxation.  I feel unpleasant to see her crying, oftentimes, a high-pitched screaming.  This isn't a turn-on.  It's a necessary thing.

There's been a time in the past -- the infamous "warehouse scene" where I truly unloaded on her.  Literally cuffed her to a shelf and wailed on her till I didn't hurt anymore.  But then, that was for something far more severe, and it's been dealt with in several more-practical ways since then.  The monkey fears that me actually channeling frustration into punishment will result in repeats of this situation, but I don't personally believe so.

I hope to one day have a monkey who will say "I understand you're angry, Sir.  I know this is going to hurt, please let's get it over with quickly."  Sometimes I can say that. Sometimes I'm triggered before we even begin. Yes, part of punishment is the ability to channel my frustrations into the situation when I'm feeling them.  And once said frustrations had been channeled, then it's over, and the monkey is forgiven.  I hold her, kiss her tears away, and the issue stays in the past (for the Top, anyway-I do not let go so easily)-- only revisited if there's a repeat offense that warrants harder training at a future point.

However, last tuesday, I got a monkey who said things like "I see, so you're not going to be happy till you beat the shit out of me."  And instead of being able to channel my frustrations into her, and put her to bed...I got cursed at, blown off, and got to go back to work angry, after having taken a three-hour-lunch for the monkey's benefit, where I coincidentally didn't actually get time to eat lunch.  Not that I couldn't stand to miss a few lunches, mind you, but you get the idea.

Nothing makes me wince more than someone who lovingly, and in tears, told me that it was important that I give her rules and enforce them turning it around and making me feel like a goddamned wife beater. Which I feel very guilty for. It's like I'm a different person, when I'm in that headspace. Not like that's an excuse, it's just, I don't know, a partial explanation I guess. It's damned hard to get out of that space of my own volition once I'm there and it's damned hard to recognize when I'm slipping into it.

I've been sick and we've both slept a lot, but we discussed it last night -- a critical detail the monkey missed in her own post is that while I slapped her gently a few times, I told her that IN LIEU of punishment, I was giving her a new behavior, and some new conditions....that instead of getting defiant, and turning into a person I don't recognize, who attacks me -- that I will not punish her as long as she begs not to have it.  I've also given her the ability to bargain, with whatever she likes, which effectively lets her have a means of communicating what she's willing to take as a transgression, and even commit to some feelings of guilt -- all the while not receiving something triggering.

I am totally willing to say if I can't get the "please sir let's get this over with quickly", I'll just as happily say I'll take "Please sir, please don't punish me, you can take away my ice cream for a month.   Please sir, I'll swallow every night.  Please sir, I'll let you take away my internet..."  And failing that, I'll accept "Please sir, I know I've been bad and need to be punished but I can't right now."  And in a perfect world if that last one was the answer -- then perhaps the monkey would come to me when she was ready.  -sigh- If only. But let's not go that far right now.  Right now, I'm simply giving her control of what does (or doesn't) happen to her, but letting her stay in character, as opposed to verbally and nearly-physically attacking me.  It's a new program, and I'd like to see how it goes. Well, I hope.
topthemonkey: (disappointed virginity)
Two weeks ago I had an appointment with my psychiatrist that I completely forgot about. He had not made a reminder call and I slept through the appointment.
The next day he called the Top, who was very displeased. He said it was all right though. It wasn't the end of the world or anything. I was given no indication that I would be punished.
The next time I had therapy I discussed this, related how even though it wasn't a big mistake, it made me feel so utterly worthless and I was trying to reassure myself and get past that feeling.

Fast forward to early this week when I saw my psychiatrist at the make-up appointment I had scheduled.
I (read: the Top) had to pay for both appointments, this one and the one I missed. He was very displeased. I was distraught. I thought the stress related to the missed visit was over. I had felt so guilty, but punishment had not been deemed necessary and I was trying to find closure. It was behind me. Now, suddenly, it felt as if all my guilt were justified.

When we got home, I was very anxious. The Top tried to talk to me about this, and it was clear we were leading up to a punishment.
I was starting to lose it and lunged at him at one point, but managed to stop myself from doing anything to hurt either of us.

I told him that I needed to take one of my immediate-calm-down drugs and take a nap (I was exhausted). He said no, basically.
I was very upset that he would deny me the medication that I had been prescribed for moments like these.

I lashed out at him verbally, said a lot of very rude, disrespectful and downright nasty things. He asked me if I trusted him and I said yes. He bent me over the couch and I called red. I almost never call red. But I was slipping, and just the act of bending me over was starting to push me towards the deep end.

The Top was not pleased. He went to work very upset with me. I went upstairs, took my medication and took a nap. Later he came home and went to bed, at which point I woke up, did some chores and then went back to bed.

We didn't really talk about what had happened until the next day, yesterday. I apologized for what I had done and he administered some very light spankings to my bare bottom as punishment.

It wasn't until last night that he understood why I had been so upset: in my mind, I was trying to move forward, the issue was resolved two weeks ago and now suddenly I was being punished for it, now that the Top had found out he had to pay for my missed appointment.

Bottoms/subs/slaves need punishments to be administered as soon after the event as possible. I really can't stress that enough.

The Top wants me, when I am in that teetering on the edge of sanity sort of mindset, to try and channel that energy into submission. To let him know what's going on inside my head by kneeling and begging, rather than being physically and verbally violent. I'm going to try. I don't anticipate it being easy.
topthemonkey: (Default)
I feel kind of exasperated lately. The Top doesn't want me to have a license or a car, but he doesn't want to have to take hours off from work every week to drive me to doctor's appointments.

I'm starting to feel guilty about them, but I don't really have a choice, which is good.

At home, well, at my family's house, I would feel guilty about my doctor's appointments because of money so I just stopped making appointments. That was bad.

I miss the Top. I feel like I almost never see him, that he's always working. Even when he's home he's working. I know it's the nature of his job and his personality. But I fantasize about him coming home at 5 or 6 and not doing any work until when he wakes up the next day.
topthemonkey: (Default)

Yes, I decided that for a) not being more on top of her meds and b) killing time I could be spending at work and c) REALLY not being on top of her meds, the monkey needed to be punished.

One of the things I stress to the Monkey is that my job IS critical to our relationship, and working in IT means odd hours, long hours, leaving in the middle of the night to code because that's when it can get done... Ergo, pulling me away from the office during business hours, is BAD.

I made her strip down to nothing, right in the kitchen, and then I bent her over the back of the couch, held her by the collar with my left hand, and bare-handed her what had to be fifteen or twenty times, on the right ass-cheek. She screamed, she howled, and a few times she started to lose her footing but I ordered her to stay in position, and she did.

Afterward, she had this attitude come over her. I call the attitude "the dark place". She gets narrow-eyed, spiteful, questions everything. Says things that make me doubt the relationship. Things like "is this what you wanted?" and "are you happy now" and (between sobs) "I want to go home". Everything about her; her tone, her demeanor, her body language...they all change. And honestly, when she becomes That Person (it's a mood shift, not like multiple personalities)...I just want to slap her down until she becomes the sweet, submissive, loving girl I adopted.

At one point, she was clawing into my breast, scratching, and I told her, outright: "You know what I'm going to take away if you attack me. (She'll lose her hair). Put your hand down." She did. Eventually, it was over, and I allowed her to take two of her panic attack medicine, which should have her out for the rest of the night. She tells me she wants to take it when she feels like hurting herself -- and I'm all in favor of that, but more often than not, rather than resorting to the crutch of the drug (and eight to twelve hours of drooling sleep), I try to push her through it. Tonight, I couldn't be there (I'm back at work, making up for lost time) -- and I couldn't be sure she'd be okay. I still dislike it. I've pulled her out of spots before where she just wanted to take it and go to sleep.

I see that drug as a parachute. If you're in a nosedive, it can save you before you crash...but you still lose something.

After, while she was making dinner for herself (I wanted her to eat something before she slept), she accused me of being "black and white". Either not punishing her at all, or punishing every little infraction. I countered with the fact that no, meds are just so singularly important. Our very first meeting was influenced by her needing to take those panic drugs, and not having them on her. You bet your ass (no pun intended) I'm going to be rigid about prescribed medications. She said "she felt like she was being beaten every other day." And again I countered that right now her contract only has one clause. The only other punishment she's gotten was for not bringing her nightmare drugs to a slumber party two hours away (note, again, that it's med related). I remarked that she needs to take more responsibility for her drugs now, as previously her parent handled all the refills and insurance and copayments, and now it MUST be her.

So she ate, and we cuddled. I tried to take her collar off, because I didn't want her to feel trapped by it. She begged me not to, and I left it on. I held her as the drug took effect, as she started to trail off. I brought her up to my room, and she stripped and went to bed, tethered and clad in only underwear.

I love her dearly. I don't enjoy seeing her scream and cry like this. But part of my job is to make her just a little bit afraid of not doing these things.
This is behavior conditioning. It's training. It's not always going to be pleasant. I sometimes wonder if some part of her believes that I'm just doing this because she complained she wasn't getting enough -- if she thinks I'm just trying to overfeed her.

topthemonkey: (Default)
I've now seen both my new psychiatrist and therapist. The former I found through the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom's Kink-Aware Professional Database. The therapist was recommended in turn by the psychiatrist and though she's not in the database, she should be. I'm immensely pleased with both of them.


For the first time in many weeks (months?) I went down on the Top and he finished in my mouth.

I've been rather gun-shy about this act ever since I puked on his dick when trying desperately to swallow.
But this went much better.

He held my head down and had me on a leash, which he pulled; both of these things really help me get into it.

My jaw didn't bother me at all, thankfully. I've been using a device to stop my grinding at night, which has helped.

Ever since he stopped drinking coffee, the Top's semen has tasted vastly less foul. Hardly foul at all, in fact.
I was downloading some of Violet Blue's podcasts and came across this, which I'd like to try. Or rather, I'd like the Top to try it. Right now I'm menstruating and no amount of fruit smoothie is going to make menstrual blood taste yummy.

As per the directions in the podcast, here are the ingredients for the Super Spunk Smoothie (it works with all genders) -- drink for three days and avoid the things I mention in the podcast, though skipping asparagus is a no-brainer...

Super Spunk Smoothie
1 cup pineapple, fresh, canned or juice
1 cup mango juice
1 banana
1/2 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1/2 tsp fresh ginger
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbs honey

Blend all ingredients in a blender until smooth. Drink immediately. Repeat daily (and perform your own scientific oral sex taste tests) for best results!

topthemonkey: (Default)

Since moving down with me, certain decisions have had to be made about the Monkey's medical issues. He's on several different medications, which need an MD to monitor.

I've always had an issue with the fact that the Monkey couldn't share the details of his relationships with a therapist.

So I was rather happy when he found a shrink on this list of Kink Aware Professionals.

Admittedly, we paid the first installment out of pocket, and the intake ran us several hundred bucks. Future appointments (about once a month) should run around a hundred. While we don't have a direct coverage, the Monkey will be submitting claims to his home insurance.

The guy seemed nice enough (although I only met him for a short time). He recommended a good regular counselor or two who are also kink-aware, and also prescribed one new medicine (specifically for nightmares, who would have thunk such a thing existed outside of the Wes Craven movies).

I'll leave it to the Monkey to write more -- but as I understand it, the appointment was fairly routine, not dealing much with the kink aspects. But then, there was a lot to cover.

I'm glad things like this are available.

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