When discussing things theoretically (i.e.- when my bottom is in no immediate danger), I want to cry during a spanking. I want that kind of emotional release, want to be comfortable enough to experience that sort of vulnerability. It sounds, again in theory, like a wonderful experience.
The reality has been quite different. I’ve only cried a handful of times during spanking (crying at other times is another matter entirely to be visited later), but the experience has always been. . .unpleasant. And that had been the only common thread I could find. These were not my harshest spankings, not the most embarrassing, not given on my worst days.
I figured it out. It was one of those 3am realisations, arriving with a crash of revulsion that robs the rest of night of sleep.
It is fear. Pure, blinding terror.
I cry because I doubt myself, I doubt my spanker, I question the situation into which I have put myself. I question whether I will emerge unharmed- not so much in a physical sense but an emotional one. I have a safeword, but don’t think to use it- I’m not in that much pain, I should be ok with this. The very fact that I am not brings another wave of terror and sends me over the edge.
Crying from fear is perhaps understandable, but it is not a healthy,adult way to deal with runaway emotions, not a productive way to handle fledgling friendships and unfamiliar situations.
I don’t know what to do about this. I want to fix this, to handle these feelings in a better, more productive way. Like with words, like a normal person. I don’t know that I can. But perhaps the realisation is a start. I know this now, and even if in the moment I cannot act on it, I can reflect, discuss, revisit, talk, and grow.
Because this sort of crying is not the release I want it to be. It makes me a sobbing, soppy wreck of a person, incapable of anything other than being held, imposing myself on someone taken more or less unawares.
But they have taken care of me, these people who were with me when I spooked. The held me, reassured me, and not just until the sobbing stopped. They stayed with me- in person, on the phone, over email. Allowing me to revisit the experience at my own pace, to analyse, to learn, to grow (or to write it off as a mistake of the moment and move on more pleasant discussions). I know that even now I could reach out to any one of them, for any reason, and they would understand, they would talk.
This is not how I envisioned forming close friendships, but this is what happened. Instead of release, I’ve gotten entanglement of the best kind.
It hasn’t been a pleasant experience, but it is one from which I am learning a great deal.