I suffer with anxiety; the sort of hollow dread about nothing in particular that goes beyond the normal social anxiety of the introvert. It comes and goes, depending on how out-of-control I feel about the things in my life. This time last year I was medicated for it. I was unable to sleep, and if I did manage it for a few hours, I would sometimes wake up with a racing heart and a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s a very unpleasant sensation; you spend most of the time feeling like you’ve forgotten something incredibly important, and then suddenly you’ll get an adrenaline rush, as if your body has remembered what it was and starts panicking, but your brain is still out of the loop.
My anxiety then was over a major change in circumstances for my son and I. It was still six months off, but I knew it was coming and I felt completely unable to control or even predict our future. Now, I’m the sort of person who likes certainty. I like peace of mind, as is evident from the number of insurance policies I fork out for. I hated knowing the change was coming, but not knowing what our situation would be afterwards, and feeling powerless to effect any change that would improve things.
In the end, everything turned out better than I could have hoped, but I revert back to the uneasiness and sleepless nights when I feel anxious.
As Bear has written, I screwed up and broke the rules. I know I have a punishment coming, and I understand and accept that. But we don’t have set punishments for such infractions; my punishment is to be determined by Bear as and when it is required. I appreciate that he had faith in my obedience, that he doesn’t expect me to fail, but I’m only human.
Knowing I would have to wait two weeks before this punishment could be meted out, I asked Bear if he would please let me know what I would be facing when the time came. Knowing me as he does, he tried to reduce my anxiety by giving me lines as part of my punishment; something I could get stuck into so I wouldn’t feel so powerless. But then my stupid brain started turning over the as-yet-unspecified number of spanks my bottom would be receiving. It had been 10 the first time; how many would it be for the second? Would He double it? Treble it? Would He use the paddle this time? Could I take it? What if it was too much and I had to safeword? How could I make up for breaking the rules if I couldn’t take the punishment?
I trust Him completely, that He will be fair and will look after me. He’s never pushed me too far before and I have no reason to think He’ll start now. My fears are of failing Him again, and of the unknown. If I knew how many spanks I was getting, I could prepare, psych myself up for it. Am I a bad sub because I struggle with this? Shouldn’t the relinquishing of this level of control be an intrinsic part of my submission to Him?
These are the things now keeping me awake in the middle of the night.