Jan 062013
 

I drop like a lead balloon.

The rational part of my brain knows this. It knows drop takes otherwise manageable concerns and self-doubts and amplifies them into incapacitating fear and overwhelming insecurity. My rational brain knows the magnitude of these feelings has little foundation in reality. It knows the emotional tailspin will level off and fade away.

But unfortunately, the rational part of my brain can’t speak sense to the emotional part of my brain because the emotional part of my brain is too busy curled in the fetal position, crying in the corner. Sometimes, my emotional brain is a whiny little bitch who won’t listen to reason.

I try to warn my emo brain the drop is coming, and that it’s not entirely real. I try to steel myself against it.

But still it comes, and I drop hard.

It confuses my reason and fucks with my already tangled emotions. It exposes and amplifies my worst flaws — those flaws I tirelessly mediate and compensate for in hopes of maintaining the appearance they aren’t in my possession. I’d prefer to keep pretending they simply don’t exist.

But drop sets them out in sunlight, not to cleanse them, but to let them throw distorted shadows across my level ground.

The worst part of it all is that my drop is more about my own insecurities than it is about anyone else. It’s about me. Me. Me. Me.

Yes, in part it’s genuine care for my partner, fear that I might have hurt him physically or emotionally, concern that maybe I haven’t met his needs, guilt that perhaps I’ve used him too hard or taken too much.

Of course I love him, I care about him, and I want for his well-being. But I want more for myself. I care most about what the effects to him might mean to my well-being. I fear any of those things, alone or in combination, might mean that I will lose him. It’s all about me, isn’t it?

My drop is about insecurities made manifest in real or imagined forms. It’s about the worst of them, not the important ones that could ultimately make me more introspective or proactive in being a better person, a better partner, and a better dominant.

Perhaps those opportunities exist, but I sure as hell can’t see them now. I can’t see anything beyond myself or the ever-present possibility of losing something I value. Me. Me. Me.

My rational brain knows this line of thinking is an awful downward spiral that neither begins nor ends with truth.

But I can’t save myself from being dizzy in consideration of all the many ways our night was made of fail. My fail.

Rational brain knows better, but emo brain won’t listen.

She will listen, soon. Not now though. She’s too busy with her whining and her crying in the corner.

 

  14 Responses to “I drop”

  1. Ugh… sucks. My drop doesn’t manifest like yours, but it’s still a suckhole of sucking suckedness.

    It was always my boy’s job to provide a wellspring of communication, reassurance, affection, and loveliness in the days afterwards. It took him a little while to ‘get it’, so we struggled with it in the early days (he couldn’t quite believe how much he/it/us/play could affect me *even though I explained it very clearly and told him what I needed from him in the aftermath*).

    Aftercare: for Dommes too.

    Ferns

    • @Ferns: I’m very lucky that J is wonderful about aftercare. I didn’t mention that in my post because, you know, it’s all about me!

      We had a sort of opposite situation. He saw it before I did, before I had a clue it was even a thing. He recognized it, explained it, and took steps to mediate it before I was willing to acknowledge it was happening. (I didn’t know I was subject to feelings! That wasn’t in the Domme Handbook!).

      Plus, he was brave enough to tell me he knew better about where my feelings were coming from than I did. :) That first conversation didn’t go over well! He insisted on giving aftercare anyway and found sneaky ways to do it so he didn’t hurt my pride. I’m grateful. It’s one of the reasons I’m really glad to have an experienced submissive.

      Even now that I acknowledge it happens to me, I’m still stubborn sometimes. I think it won’t effect me or think I can get over it myself, and that doesn’t always work well.

      J is excellent about being proactive and giving me extra assurances and lots of love after play (and before play and during play, too), but the distance thing messes us up sometimes. After a couple of nights together, sometimes I feel great for a bit. But when he’s long gone, out of my sight and out of my reach, the worry and anxiousness sets in. Not being able to physically see he’s okay fucks with my head even though my rational brain knows he’s okay and still loves me. There’s only so much he can do with calls and texts and emails.

      On his own, he has made a habit of writing me “highlights” emails within a day of his leaving. The notes point out his favorite moments of our weekend, hot stuff that happened, things that he was thinking about… all that stuff. It’s always very complimentary and filled with lots of love and sweetness and hotness. I never asked for them (and I wouldn’t have, I’m too prideful), but they help more than I can explain. I’m very lucky. :)

  2. Turning inward is what anxiety does. That’s part of how it’s evil: it says “look at all these ways you might not be perfect” and once it has your attention adds a derisive “that’s right, it’s all about you, just like everything else.” It’s awful and unfair and I’m so sorry this happens.

    For me, it’s hard to say I need reassurance or help, because admitting weakness in front of the emotional brain is like dangling a steak in front of an alligator. If you can, though, it helps. If not, can you trick the irrational brain with irrational enticement to calm? I find chocolate, and relaxing music (I favor Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel and Für Alina) can do wonders where all the reasonable arguments in the world fall flat.

    • @GingerNic: Yes. Yes to everything you said. You said it far more concisely and eloquently than I ever could.

      And you’re so right about the painful follow-up: “once it has your attention adds a derisive ‘that’s right, it’s all about you, just like everything else.'” I think that’s what hit me the hardest in this most recent drop.

      “For me, it’s hard to say I need reassurance or help, because admitting weakness in front of the emotional brain is like dangling a steak in front of an alligator. If you can, though, it helps.”

      Me too, but in my case, it’s not wanting to admit weakness to myself or to anyone else. It’s awful of me, prideful, and it doesn’t do anyone any good. I’m lucky that to have a submissive who sort of tricks me into receiving aftercare. I don’t have to trick my brain because he does it for me. :)

  3. I see this with my partner. Your post explains the feeling. I’m with @ferns’ advice but I know it’s not enough in my situation.

    • @Dave: “I’m with @ferns’ advice but I know it’s not enough in my situation.”

      Ferns gives great advice! But yes, I don’t know that anything is ever enough to completely “fix” the feeling. There are ways to lessen it, but no sure fire way to make it go away. It’s lots of love, reassurances, and of course, it takes time.

  4. Thankfully all of the “drop” I’ve gone through has been physical. Shakiness, chills, and a thirst entirely out of proportion to fluids lost in the scene. There’s some emotional “coming down,” but that’s mostly a matter of regaining my composure after letting go during intense play. But those irrational insecurities are the biggest reasons I don’t switch, hardly at all. I would be guilt-ridden, even if there was no reason to be.

    • @Neophyte: “Thankfully all of the “drop” I’ve gone through has been physical. Shakiness, chills, and a thirst entirely out of proportion to fluids lost in the scene”

      Now that you’ve said this, I’m actually really glad I don’t have any physical drop (except for exhaustion). If I got shaky and had chills, that coupled with the emotional tailspin would probably make me think I was having a heart attack or something!

      “But those irrational insecurities are the biggest reasons I don’t switch, hardly at all. I would be guilt-ridden, even if there was no reason to be.”

      Yeah. I’m a worrier. That and guilt is a bitch.

      • Maybe I underestimate the physical toll play takes on a top’s body, but it makes sense that physical drop would be a bigger deal among bottoms. Good, intense play causes my body to let loose with large quantities of adrenaline and endorphins, and I’m sure it fucks with blood-sugar (diabetic or not). Cuddling with my play partner under a blanket more than offsets the chills, and the shakiness is mostly about exhaustion.

        • @Neo: “Maybe I underestimate the physical toll play takes on a top’s body,”

          I’d offer a qualified “yes” to this. Everyone plays differently, but there’s a lot of physical exertion involved, at least for me. Besides that, tops have adrenaline and endorphin rushes too. I would guess that in general, it comes on slower for tops than it does for bottoms, but I imagine we all chemically drop at similar rates. In other words, just because my adrenaline comes on slower than my submissive’s does not mean it disappears more slowly too. (This is only my guessing… I don’t really know). Plus, there’s a certain indescribable stress and anxiety that comes on when I’m responsible for someone elses safety, stress that manifests physically. Particularly when we’re nearing some sort of edge — when things get intense, my body gets tense, sort of wound tightly, and I’ve experienced odd soreness the day after simply because of stress-related muscle tension the day before.

          But, with all of that said, I think you’re also right in this: “it makes sense that physical drop would be a bigger deal among bottoms.” Agreed.

  5. This is a challenging internal conflict for certain.

  6. Have you guys ever thought of using video chats to aid the connection over distances and time. From Apple’s facetime, alternatives like Oovoo, and even Android with Google Chat/Hangouts. Everything from smartphones to laptops and everything in between can do this these days. I don’t remember seeing you ever mention this as something you do. Heck, J could even leave you video messages! And vice versa of course.

    Long time reader, your newest post prompted me to come back to this one. Excellent stuff and thanks for sharing, by the way!

    • @Philomath: Yes! We have done some video chatting/Facetime/Skype talking. It’s fun for sexy stuff, but for the normal and/or more important stuff, I actually prefer plain old chat (even over the phone). You’re right though, I haven’t mentioned it much. Typically, I’ve only used video chat for ridiculous stuff (go get a bowl of ice, stick your junk in it, let me watch your face contort!). I think it is a fantastic idea for distance couples in general. I just get so bored with the mundane “how was your day” stuff that over video chat, boring stuff seems a million times more boring because you’re stuck in front of a screen (which is why I prefer chat, I guess).

      Long time reader? Why haven’t you said hello before now?

      Ah well, hello there! Nice to meet you, and glad you’re reading. :)

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