Breaking Down

In my personal healing process I have had a couple of emotional break downs.  A few days where I no longer wanted to go on.  I wanted to just die a couple of times.  The emotional pain was so great.  It felt like it would never end.  Others would tell me to hold on.  They told me it would get better.  In that emotional vulnerability, I did not believe any of them.  In that place, it doesn't feel like anything will ever be okay again.
There is another type of break down.  For me, it is crying.  The few times that I have faced tears that I could not hold back, I have felt absolute terror.  Afraid to have anyone near me and afraid to be alone.  When my composure breaks and I do cry, I become very vulnerable to self harm.  That coping mechanism kicks in hard.  I become angry with myself for not being stronger than the tears.  I want what ever is causing the tears to disappear.
I will be facing soon a very intense session.  I am very nervous to say the least.  Anxiety is rising.  I am sure that I will break down.  There are already butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.  It is not that I don't trust the people who will be with me.  I trust them with my life at this point.  I know I am safe and I know I will be protected.  I have no doubt that whatever needs to be done, will be done.  So, where does all this nervousness come from?
It is about the breaking down.  The woman sitting here writing this is physically shaking.

Funny thing about writing... it can trigger some unexpected responses.  Writing this blog post, did that to me.  I reached out to a friend who spent some time with me.  It isn't easy to reach out when you find yourself on the verge of a breaking point.  But, that fresh perspective can be so beneficial.

Shards Of Glass

A phrase keeps going through my head.... "like a child learning to walk on shards of glass."

Like most things that are out of the blue like that and stuck in my head...it is likely part of a poem or creative writing piece that is working toward being heard.
The shattered glass pieces are hard enough to spot in the light.  Finding them in the darkness? Impossible, until harm is already done.  It sounds chilling and painful.

I guess sometimes this path of healing feels like I am trying to reassemble a precious piece of art.  I have entered the stark darkness of the past.  I have had to.  It is the only way to retrieve all the pieces needed to remake, reform,  this piece of art into the beautiful piece it was always meant to be.

 Fumbling in the dark, I am pricked by sharp points of glass that draw a drop of blood from time to time.  Even moving with the utmost care, I have stepped on a few parts of the glass that have sliced my foot open. Those wounds have needed help from others, a few stitches and much more time to heal.

 Some of those same pieces have broken even more, making them unrecognizable.  That is okay.  The form these pieces of glass come together to make, will be different and unique still.  It will be beautiful and whole as it was meant to be.  Even if only briefly, when light sweeps through the area, beauty is reflected back already.

At times, I have thrown a few of those shards away.  Realizing that I no longer need them.  As the pieces come together, some of them just no longer fit in the design.  Some of the shards of glass never belonged there in the first place.

This time of gathering shards of glass in the dark, has not always been alone.  A few times, someone has come along with a flashlight and we have gathered pieces together.  They have had a hand in helping me transform this brokenness into a wonderful and forever changing, piece of art.

I recognize that although I am doing the difficult emotional work, I am not the Master designer.  The original masterpiece was never treasured.  It was thrown to the floor and shattered.  I am fortunate to have the opportunity to gather the pieces and offer them up to the light for transformation.

Let There Be Tears

Burn your love through the years of shame.

Set afire the blanket of blame.

Ignite the words seared inside

Said by others as they lied.

Worthlessness, make it die.

Torch it all, until I cry.

Break the chain of icy chill.

Take me further and further still. 

Look Around

When dealing with emotional issues, I can develop tunnel vision.  There are times that I can only see the bad that swirls around the dark things from the past.  I have a tendency to allow myself to be drawn in too deeply.  It isn't that I am trying to hurt myself.  For me it comes more from a stubbornness that wants to meet most things head on.  I will push myself too hard, ONCE I get started.  It is difficult at times for me to put the brakes on and take a break.
There is a need to step out of the horrors and take a look around.  Consciously notice the light that is around.  Press into the good things in my life.  The monsters in the past can and do invade the present at times.  If I have lost control of my steps, I must fight just as hard to get myself back into the present.  The present is where the love is.  The present holds the good that I desire to embrace.  There is a need to breathe.  Must allow my eyes to see the beauty that is right here,  to wash them clean from the horrors that have colored my vision.
Look around.  Notice the way the breeze makes the branches dance.  Watch as the leaf rolls and plays tag with the sidewalk.  See the ears of my puppy flap wildly as she runs across the floor.  Examine the rose petal or the blade of grass.  Embrace the living breathing things and remember that I too am a part of them.
Look around.  Plant both feet firmly on the ground.  With eyes as the window to my soul, fill them with beauty and light.  Scan the snow covered mountain.  Look for the face in the moon.  Watch as the clouds play hide and seek with the stars.  Breathe girl and let the night air stroke your face.

When I cannot do this for myself - - -  Guide me with your voice.  Take me to the beach as I sit wrapped in your arms, safe.  Build the vision of the beauty we each know is there.  Show me with a whisper, while you also push the monsters away.  Keep reminding me who you are until I can again recognize your face.  Stay with me until you are confident I have left that place.

Leave A Trail

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." 

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I have walked this journey of healing, there have been times when I have been overwhelmed by suggestions on the way I should go.  Others have spoken to me about tried and tested roads to recovery from childhood sexual abuse.  It is not a case of who is right and who is wrong.  With each new thing from my past that I face, I am also faced with choices in how to deal with it.  There are different therapies and different approaches.  I am simply *me*.  As I have fought to move from victim to victorious, the methods used has changed as I became stronger and more willing to fight for freedom from my past.  

We are each unique.  Even if our pasts are identical, the paths that we take to become more free and stronger, are unlikely to be.  What works for one, may not work for another.  Understanding that this is okay, is important.  Sharing what has and has not been beneficial may be very helpful to someone else who is struggling with the same sort of issue.  It is okay to choose your own path and leave your own trail.  

The path that I am walking right now has evolved from different things that have been suggested to me, as well as from understanding myself better.  As a victim, I didn't have the right of choice.  I had no control.  Now, I do.  

There is no *cookie-cutter* approach to healing.  It is also not a sign of failure if some part of the path that is being walked, fails to have the hoped for outcome.  As we learn, grow and change, so does the things that are beneficial in healing, growing and becoming stronger.  

When my first therapist suggested and encouraged re-parenting for me, I was not ready.  She on the other hand continued to present it to me.  Today, although none of us are calling the way that we are interacting with one another, re-parenting, what I am experiencing is exactly what that woman wanted for me years ago.  She kept pointing me to that path, let me know that it was there and was an option that might be helpful to me.  After having become a lot stronger, it took me becoming so lost and stuck,  for me to see that path again as a possibility.  And, ya know what?  We are forging a new trail and it is working for me.

OTK

Over the knee.  This position is the favorite of so many.  It can be humbling for sure, given the right circumstances.  Laying over the knee or lap, of the one who is going to spank me, leaves no doubt in my mind of who is in control.  It puts me in a position where I have very little control.
Tonight I was in that position for quite some time.  A lot of the time, I was being spanked, but not all.  Just laying there, not being scolded or corrected.  Again, I was reminded about how calming and soothing that position is for me.  I don't know how to explain to another, the peace that floods over me when I am like that.  There is a total trust between me and the one spanking me.  It is a safe place for me.  So safe in fact that I have forgotten that I was laying there with my bare bottom exposed.
I was never spanked as a child.  For me there is no past personal experience to relate it to.  Tonight I laid over the knee doing much more than receiving a spanking.  I was so safe and so secure, that my Spanker and I actually watched a short video on her phone while I laid there!  We laughed together.  She let me lay there and just feel safe for awhile.  Most definitely cared for.   I am definitely a very blessed girl!  A sore bottomed one at the moment on top of it all!

Hands

 I am a person who is very tactile to begin with.  I am the one that is always touching things, wanting to know how they feel.  I am also the one that gravitates toward the softness.  When we travel there is always a *softie* in the car with me.  Usually one of my stuffed animals.  If it is a long car trip then the softie is more likely to be my pillow, feather of course.  My partner finds me more often than not stroking something that is soft.  Most of the time, I don't even realize that I am doing it until it is pointed out.  With the car trips or in times of high stress, stroking the softness aids in calming me.

The hands of other people coming towards my face is a bad trigger for me.  It sets off alarm bells inside of me.  This comes from being a little girl who was taught not to cry, in a very cruel manner, that included taunting and face slapping.  This may be why I have never played around with face slapping or mouth soaping within the lifestyle of spanking and/or BDSM.  It just brings someone else's hand much too close to my face.  I have talked with my partner recently about wanting to get past this.  I want to be able to allow those that I trust to also touch my face more freely.

Hands are most often the very first thing I notice about a person.  It doesn't matter what gender they are.  My eyes will wander to the hands and I am more likely to be following the hands than looking at the face or meeting the eyes of another.  I don't know where this has come from.  It has developed into a fetish of sorts.  What I mean is that I discovered that I enjoy doing hand worship.  This has been with other females only.  Holding their hand, especially of one who has or will be spanking me and offering my hands and mouth to massage, worship and care for, gives me such an incredibly good feeling. (This usually isn't a part of a spanking, it is more about their authority past or present)  Something as simple as being able to just hold their hand does so much for me emotionally.  It may seem sexual to have the fingers of another in my mouth and adoring them, but for me it has never exactly felt sexual.  With my life partner it very much can be, but even then it isn't always.  I don't have a sexual response while doing this. My partner does have a sexual response when I do this.  It is something she enjoys receiving very much.  At that moment, during that time, it is an adoration as well as a submission that feels wonderful to me.  It is a gift that I enjoy giving.
Having things in my mouth is difficult for me for many reasons, none of them pleasant.  Yet, when it comes to hand worship, I don't feel the same fear or reservations.  (I also enjoy giving foot worship.  With this, I do struggle with toes in my mouth.)

Hands can do so much. There is the *bad* we can all think of, but so much more that is good!   A simple caress has the power to change a scenario.  A swat to the bottom.  The beckoning finger or the pointed warning one.   A simple wave hello.  The outstretched hand.  Holding onto someone, helping them up.  Pointing the way and opening the door.  Stroking a face tenderly.
                                         So many wonderful things!