Dirty Problem

“Don’t you want to save this dirty little damsel?”

-Natalia Kills, “Problem”

Subspace/Sub-drop versus Depression

Trigger warning: BDSM, kink, and sexual experiences talk (healthy and non-healthy/abusive both)

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Subspace: a mental space for those who identify as submissive in BDSM play and sexual situation/scenes. It can be spiritually and viscerally deep for many. The endorphins released for a sub during a scene make it very similar to the high many drugs offer.

Sub-drop: the sharp change in mental status that can happen to a submissive after the endorphins disperse. It can happen at any point from right after the scene ends to hours, or even a day later. It is called “drop” because it is a empty sort of feeling; akin to depression.

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For the first time in years, I agreed to let Army try his hand at a true BDSM-centered “scene”. It involved wax play, breath play, and spankings- in addition to actual rough intercourse. Some of the kinks I have not partaken in since Katherine, despite enjoying immensely.

We staged the scene during the mid-afternoon (2-3pm) when my house was deserted. In spite of this, within minutes of us finishing, Army fell deep asleep.

I tried to control my breathing and pushed back the “crying sensation”. Or what I call the crying sensation- never actually cried. Not sure if that would happen if I didn’t push it back. I’ve always pushed it back. Curled into my normal ball.

And the sub-drop hit.

I’ve never been one of the parts in here to really struggle with depression. I suppose I’ve been touched by it during our co-conscious period when depression would hit. But I’ve never soaked in it.

I soak in sub-drop.

Katherine was initially good at aftercare. When we first delved into the world of BDSM, she read all about how to be a good “domme/dom” and we would frequently watch Disney movies or a musical and she’d make me a grilled cheese. There was lots of soothing cuddling. No conversation required, which isn’t really something I can manage while still in semi-subspace.

Then our relationship soured. The honeymoon period ended. And she became harsh. Or lazy. Or both. The end of a scene was the end of her commitment to pay attention to me.

I soak in sub-drop.

Like gin, I learn to make the bitter taste sweet and steep my insides in it.

On the tail of this deep depression that’s been spinning around in the brain the past couple weeks, this sub-drop is more bitter than sweet. My normal tricks and masks aren’t doing it. Perhaps I’m losing my knack.

I’m still doing my best to fight it.

Sometimes it’s just better to squeeze the bruises or brush the burns/welts to try and release some remnants of euphoria. Anything to avoid becoming like one of the cutters. Ugh. I will not be like Victoria.

I soak in sub-drop.

Splintered

I am splintered.  Really struggling with the whole unity and “I”.  Feeling only like a “we” the past couple days.

And we are not agreeable or allies in any way.
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I’m not sure what made me decide to confide in him over text about being fat and ugly and needing pills and laxatives.  I’ve never spoken to anyone about it before.  I did take some pills and washed them down with a couple shots of liquor.  It makes it easier to not think about food.  I don’t need food.  Food makes me fat.

Then he texted us.  And sent everyone into a tailspin.  Charlotte is squirming in that nasty way she does.  He asks if I’m all right.  If I’m coping with all my new stress.  He says he misses me.  He asks about the new guy.  I don’t want to talk about Craig.  He says he’s worried about me.  He wonders if I’m handling living alone all right.

And I tell him.

I tell him I’m so fat and I have to take the laxatives on the weekend because otherwise I can’t go to work.  That during the week it’s hard and I struggle so bad to be a good girl.  That the other ladies at work always look so chic.  And they notice when I lose weight.  They notice every single pound.  And they are so happy for me.  So very happy.  They praise.  They congratulate.  They sing and shout and smile.  Their white teeth take up their whole face like fence posts in front of a perfect house.  A house a lady would have.

He cuts off my rantings and calms me down.  His encouragement and praise for my body being the way it is skitters into my brain and wraps around me like a blanket.  He dismisses the thoughts of blubber, of fat, of sludge.  I tell him it’s been weeks since he’s seen my anyway.

He says it doesn’t matter.  He doesn’t like me being so cruel to myself.  He says he cares.

How can he care?  He just leaves and dismisses me.  He doesn’t care at all.

He never cared when Audrey was hurting from the mess he made.
(he never thought the pregnancy was a two-person effort)

Why am I the one who feels pain at his words?  I don’t care what boys think.  What is wrong with me?
Charlotte’s affecting me too much.

More pills.

-Victoria

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I’m not exactly sure who told Craig our address.  My best guess is Charlotte or Kit.  It’s hard to know.  All I know is this boy stands in my living room, offering gifts of chocolate, ice cream, diet coke (Kit’s weakness) to try and make our back pain better.

But I barely know him.  I certainly don’t know him well enough to chose to let him into our residence.  But someone thinks he’s safe.  I think about enlisting Rika to help me boot him out.

It’s Charlotte that surfaces instead.  She entices him into the bedroom, saying they’ll watch a movie.  I wrestle control enough to stiffly watch a movie with him.  The damn muscle relaxers are messing me up badly.  Me, who can handle most pills like a trooper.  It is my talent, after all.

The rest of the evening slips past me.  I doze at one point.

The body dozes.

The boy doesn’t leave.

It’s me who wakes up in the cold light of morning and feels the pressure of an arm slung over my waist.  Rika fights her way forward but is caught by something.  By someone.

And suddenly I am gone.

-Midori

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no one knows self-sabotage like i do.  the boy moves closer, muttering something about mornings and food.  i remain perfectly still.  i am a statue.  i am always a statue when they want me to be.

but he wants to get up and go get food.  i stare at him.  he remarks that i can’t go to a restaurant in pajamas.  i look down and notice that i am fully clothed in a t-shirt and the loose pants that say coca-cola in red.  i glance back up at the boy.  he is fully clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt.  he tilts his head slightly and says something.  then he smiles in a sickeningly honest way.

i run

-daria
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I could eat.  I change clothes in the bathroom and accompany him to Bob Evans.  Breakfast sounds the best.

I am a little disappointed over the lack of activity last night, but he seems to be the type who isn’t into a quick roll in the sack anyway.

In my disappointment, my thoughts easily drift to Army as he natters on about his antics with friends back during his school days.  I wonder how much Victoria’s craziness scared Army.  It doesn’t seem like much, considering he last texts are about how he’ll always listen to us if we need it and all he wants to do is help.  I idly wonder what sort of help I might be able to get that offer to extend to….

I snap to attention when Craig mentions children and stare at him.  He speaks again, talking about how he-wants-a-family-and-he-has-name-ideas-and-he-thought-his-ex’s-baby-might-have-been-his-but-the-timing-wasn’t-right-and-that’s-probably-a-good-thing-anyway-because-he’s-done-with-her-and-a-child-should-be-with-someone-he’s-attracted-to-and-cares-about…

His eyes focus.  I blink.  And frown.

No fucking way.

I fucked that shit up before.  I am not gonna be the one to crack open that jar this time.  Not to mention that the last time was a complete accident.  This guy sounds like he’d hide our birth control pills.

Fucking hell.

-Charlotte
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Sore in the wrong way

Apparently this body cannot handle walking around a museum for 3 hours.  I’m sore.  And not in the fun way…

Rika says I’m pouting.

It’s just stupid to be sore in my legs and back when I didn’t do anything fun.

Museums are dumb and not exciting at all.  And the stupid decision is to take things “slow” with Craig.  How boring.

Maybe I can jazz things up this weekend.

Two sides to a coin

This evening was going well as I happily hung out with friends and starting filling out a rental app for a house that Mom and I are considering. We’re excited.

Army and I are texting back and forth here and there and out of nowhere he tells me he got a notice from our previous landlords saying we owe almost $2000 for things we didn’t do (it claims we “changed circuitry” when we plugged lights into a wall).

I start freaking out because I’m supposed to attest to perfect rental history in this application I’m filling out. History I thought I had. And I so do not want to ruin this chance for my mother.

I’m stressing and everyone; friends, Mom, Army, are trying to calm me down.

Amazingly, it’s Army who does it. I don’t even know how exactly. He’s learned my buttons and trigger so well it’s scary.

He then continues to improve my night by telling me he has something amazing and special planned for us the next time he gets a chunk of time off work.  That he wants to make up for not being able to see me.  That he wants to pamper me.

I’m trying so hard not to be charmed because I hate that vulnerable feeling.

But I am. Utterly and completely.

This night is ending with me smiling and daydreaming about ridiculous possibilities…

Silly girl.

Is busy good…or bad?

I have been sooooo busy.  And it isn’t over.

I did see Birdemic yesterday- it was FANTASTIC.  I will write about it more specifically in a future post when things have slowed down.

This is my week-

Monday: Try to recover from being sick on Sunday. My only easy day.

Tuesday: Went to get quotes on Texas and my tattoo’s.  I like the artist we picked and he’s charging really reasonably.  I’m very excited.  My insomnia also attacked this night.

Wednesday:  Went to get Halloween decorations and prizes with a coworker for the office party.

Thursday: Got an emergency call from Texas on my way to work.  Her grandmother is going into hospice (she has cancer) and Texas is distraught.  She is hyperventilating on the phone.  Her grandmother raised her pretty much (her parents are drug addicted shit-heads).  I quickly find out where she is, call work with an excuse, and jet over there.  I spend the day with her.  It’s mostly us dorking around, as she’s like me and would rather just have company and avoid the topic- not “therapy about it”.  It was still emotionally exhausting for me though.
Birdeeeemic in the evening though! That was great!  Again, will blog further in a couple days.

Friday: I have the Horrorama charity horror movie-thon thing tonight.  I’ll try to get a picture to upload of me dressed up for ya’ll.

Saturday: A couple parties I’m supposed to go to.  Probably will only pick one and disappoint people because I will be suuuuper tired from Horrorama and I need sleepage (Horrorama goes until 5am).

Sunday:  RECOOOOOOP…hopefully.

Next week: More crazy Halloween stuff….and my new tattoo!

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Being busy has been good for having me distracted.
But…it also has me losing smidgens of time here and there.  I think some of the alters are feeling overwhelmed and trying to snatch moments of peace or something.
I assume this because, despite losing time, I don’t come back to myself with any damage or crazy shenanigans having been committed (at least that I know of).
I sort of wonder if this is possibly us starting to make things work better. It was like that briefly a couple years ago and it was nice then.  I just worry about that next thing to “set us off”.

Right- being positive.  Moving on.

But I still wonder about this amount of activity being good or bad in the long run.  I wonder what will happen come next week when we hit that metaphorical-wall.

Trying not to dwell though.

There are…whispers already though.  Of me not being good enough.  Not being able to handle this.  Of all the failings I’ve personally caused in the past.  The normal names of slut, whore, man-eater hissed in my ear.  I’m sure it’s Daria.

She’s always had it out for me. She did seem to come to some sort of truce with Kit (at least temporarily), but she obviously doesn’t agree with the rest of the systems allowance of me “playing host” for a bit.

I know most of the names and whispers are true.  That’s what hurts the most.  But I’m trying to be positive.  Turn over that new leaf.  I’m not that woman anymore.

Maybe I need a new name…

Apparently I’m trash (or The Email’s reply)

It took a couple days for me to get the courage up to write this post.

Germany technically replied to my email Saturday, but I’ve been dwelling and dodging and playing that ostrich-head-in-the-sand that I do so well.

She’s upset.

Yay, I’m clairvoyant.  Texas said she wouldn’t upset because we’re best friends and best friends are supportive.  But my tummy-guts-feeling wins again.  She’s pissed.

She said I’m trash.

I’ve never had anyone call me that.  Not even when Texas probably thought something close to that last year when she was angry we got pregnant.  But she never called us anything like that.

And to have Germany call me that….

I was a mess Saturday night.  And I was very ill most of Sunday- at least partially psychosomatic I’m sure.

It’s sort of surprising who first brought me out of a thought process that was going to turn self-damaging.  Army.  I know, right?  Mr. Emotionally Void and Unavailable.  It’s like he’s a different person since we stopped living together.
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This was our text exchange:
Me:  Well, Germany thinks I’m a she-devil that’s ruined Jeff.  it’s a surprisingly hard blow to have a best friend think you’re trash.
Him: What happened?
Me: I emailed her briefly, updating her on my life, like I normally do, and apparently now I’m horrible. I dunno.  You don’t think I’m garbage, do you? Is that why you didn’t ever really want more than FWB?
Him: I do not think you are garbage. And the FWB thing is because of me and what I’m capable of. Not you.
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Obviously not some amazingly romantic talk, but at least encouraging.  And then Shadow Dragon and Puppy were nice enough to watch a movie with me Saturday evening (“Identity”, appropiately, lol) and that helped a lot.

But still….a best friend calling you trash is hard to swallow.

Maybe I am trash and I should just accept it.

Healing

(Trigger warning for talk of suicidal thoughts and sex. Not at the same time…)

We’re doing better now.  Kit’s not hanging around much anymore, but I’m not really surprised by that.
I never thought I’d be the one running the show for longer than an evening, but everyone seems to have decided I should indefinitely, especially after this weekend.

Let me explain a bit.

We got a surprising amount of support after Friday.
Partly from my mother and Texas, who sweetly made sure I wasn’t left to my own devices for long after the Friday night disaster.
Texas was mad at me for not calling or texting her, but when I explained that though I was technically suicidal, my true goal of that night was just getting drugged enough to not feel emotions.  Which is what happened. She wasn’t happy, but she forgave me.  She doesn’t normally do that, so I was floored.  And much nicer to her than I usually am, not usually being a “girl’s girl” myself.

However, due to the fact that it’s been a long time since I’ve taken that many narcotics, I was extremely sick/hungover most of Saturday morning and fought nausea, shaking, and dizziness for most of the day.  I managed though, and by the evening was completely fine.
Well enough, in fact, to help run a Halloween-related booth at a local downtown Halloween store event.  It was fun and healing to enjoy my favorite holiday.

Then Sunday I went to lunch with my mother and Texas and just talked about life, men, friends, careers, and girly crap.  It was great.  Strange that I enjoyed it.  Rika and Roms think I’m evolving or something.  Fuck if I know.

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I also got constant texts from Army throughout the weekend.  Starting Friday night, actually.  I didn’t reply until Saturday due to my state-of-mind, but we chatted amicably Saturday morning.  Then in a rare moment of emotional-mental-semi-psychic/understanding, he figured out something was bothering me Saturday afternoon.

Being that Army and Jeff are very good friends, I didn’t elaborate.  That wouldn’t be fair.  And despite being told otherwise, I do care about and respect Jeff enough to not fuck-up friendships.
Army was a bit upset that I wouldn’t talk to him about it, but when I explained vaguely that it had to do with Jeff and I didn’t want to be unfair to their friendship, he understood.

Then he started pestering me Sunday to hang out.  After Monday night, I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but when I said I was going to see “Hotel Transylvania” with Texas and her boyfriend, he said he’d love to join us.

I was surprised, to say the least.

First of all, Army is not really into hanging out with other people, especially couples.  Secondly, he isn’t a big fan of animated movies.

I pressed him on why he was so insistent, and he said he just wanted to spend time with me.  This again, surprised me.  This weekend was just Surprise Central, obviously.

The movie was good.  A father-daughter movie, which made me a bit uncomfortable, but still enjoyable.  I had ridden to the theatre with Texas, so as we were leaving, I mentioned this to Army and he said he’d be happy to take me home.

We ended up making a detour to my mother’s law firm….because…ahem, despite my “evolving”, I’m still Charlotte.  And there wasn’t really anywhere else private for Army and I at 10pm on a Sunday. And I have keys to the small office and knew no one was going to be there.

I learned a couple things.

First of all, desk-sex is not as easy as porn and erotica would have you believe.
And floor sex is effin’ painful.  My back is killing me and I have rugburns in places a woman should not have rugburns.
And Army did this thing that…normally would have me uber-triggered (I won’t elaborate), but actually didn’t bother me at all.  If anything, I enjoyed it.

I never thought time with Army would be healing.  We actually spent most of the time just talking.

He was kind about the recent cuts on my thigh, which in the past he’s flipped out about.  I talked about some of my insecurities and all the ways I’m obviously a fuck-up and not a normal woman.  I talked a bit about James The Stranger.

He spent way more time that I thought he ever would in reassuring me that there’s nothing wrong with me not being able to do a lot of normal emotional things, and certainly nothing wrong with me physically (see Victoria??).
He only lectured me on driving into the middle of nowhere unsafely when it came to James.  When I joked about wishing he’d just murdered me in his creepy house in the middle of nowhere, Army got angry.  But then…he actually read my body language and emotional distress, and comforted me instead.  It’s like he’s possessed by an alien.

Afterwards, we went to Shadow Dragon’s.  He was supposed to just drop me off, but he said he really wanted to see Zoe if he could.  I hesitated, as I don’t like being a rude roommate and having people over without warning.

But Zoe is our weakness, so I caved and let him in, making him promise to be quiet.  Zoe was ecstatic to see him, which made me smile.  They played outside and then we sat on the couch together and talked a little bit more.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually just talked to Army.  Since before…yeah.  I even mentioned the whole miscarriage thing being part of what had me so depressed lately and he showed a surprisingly caring side.  I don’t want to talk about it in too much detail.  It was private and my moment and I don’t want to share it with the others.
The moment it’s written about in this blog, all the others have access to it.

I dunno why I feel possessive about Army.  I suppose to be fair, he’s always been mostly “my relationship”.  Kit and Audrey handled him for moments at a time, but it was usually me that spent time with him.

I just never thought I’d get so touchy-feely that I’d need some sort of healing.  And I never, ever thought he’d be the best one to provide it.

Monday Night

(This was password protected, though I decided to remove it, so obviously there’s some trigger warning- for talk of sex. Not graphic though.)
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It was supposed to just be a casual hanging out, making-up (NOT like that) sort of night with Army.

He made a big deal about how he missed being close friends and that he had bought “Cabin in the Woods” just to watch with me.

And we have such a hard time cutting ties with people.  Especially when they sweet-talk.

Army never ever sweet-talks around other people, or in any remotely public way.  But when it’s just the two of us…
There’s a reason he charmed me into his bed the first time.

Basically, we ended up having sex.  Multiple times.  And it was amazing.  I mean, there’s a reason I stayed with this man for a year, despite his social-emotional-inept-ness.   He knows his way around a woman.  And he was so sweet the whole time.  I mean, I almost had a freakin’ crying-orgasm.  Thank god I didn’t, as that doesn’t need to happen around Army, but it was very enjoyable.

He even pouted when I couldn’t stay past midnight, saying he missed “just cuddling all night” with me.  Granted, that’s a bit strange, considering he and I haven’t cuddle since April, maybe even March, when things started going to shit.

I was reminded of all the good things about him Monday night.

I talked to him about my mistake with James and how stupid and terrified I was.  And he actually didn’t get all lecturing and judging.  He praised me for how I did handle it as best I could, and commended me on at least getting my car fixed for free.  Of course, he also encouraged me to get a CCW and a handgun.  But then it went back to him gently soothing me, verbally and physically.

I talked about Jeff and he listened and sympathized, completely unbiased.  He wasn’t upset with me for what happened.  He understood why I did what I did, and why I needed to step back, despite it breaking my heart. Well, not my heart but a lot of the others’. I don’t have a heart, obviously.  Just a hole that needs to be filled (yes, pun intended).

I forgot that he and I were friends before we were lovers.

I forget that you can have both, even in a casual “friends with benefits” sort of relationship.  Everything got so complicated when we got pregnant.  And he didn’t know how to handle it, obviously.  But he professed to missing his friend too.  He didn’t even insist on the sex.  He insisted on being friends more.

And that, more than the fantastic sex, is flattering and healing.

I didn’t think it would be so healing for me.  I’m feeling greedy and dishonest, but I don’t care.  This night was mine.  Technically Army is mostly mine.  I don’t want to share, even with the others in the system.

I password protected this entry for a reason.  But not the reason you’d think.  I don’t care about the others knowing that I hooked up with Army again.

I don’t like admitting that I enjoy his friendship more than the sex.  I’m not supposed to be that kind of alter.  I don’t think I’m fusing or co-conscious with anyone.  I don’t understand.  It’s frustrating to evolve, if that’s what this is.

I miss the old days sometimes.

But when he kisses me as a tender afterthought and gives me that smile, I forget.

What is wrong with me?

If this joint were mine…

Oh the things I would do if I were running this joint.  If I were in charge.

But it isn’t even a “consideration” because I’m too “impulsive” and “erratic”. I know the words you all really want to say. Just say them.

Slut. Skank. Nympho. Bad. Whore.

Impulsive…please. Don’t kid yourselves.

But if I were in charge, things would be better. Despite what you say. You say last year was my fault. Maybe you’re right. But these hangups ya’ll are having are not. I’ve washed my hands. I’ve moved on. I never look back.

We need more of that.

I may be bad, but I’m damn good at it.

Can any of you say the same?