How many ways can my anxiety count the days?

Content note for self-harm

One-day, two-day, three-day, eighty.

It seems ironic that my mental health would take a nosedive in May: Mental Health Awareness Month. During this time, I am more cognizant of possible mental health issues, reading articles, meditating, and writing about mental health more. However, as time ticks on, I am aware that I am becoming less capable of coping with the chaos of the world. Or perhaps the world is becoming more chaotic than ever before? Both statements are true.

A significant sign that I am slipping when it comes to dealing with my anxiety and depression is that my people pleasing personality becomes more prominent than usual. It becomes apparent that the need to please everyone is seeping into all that I do. The awful problem with trying to please everyone is that I never feel good enough for anyone. This is a lesson and an old demon that I thought I had put to rest.

That is the trick depression plays on its sufferers; if you have maintained a healthy mindset for a long period, it’s easy to talk yourself into believing the illusion that you are recovered or have moved past your mental illness.

In the beginning of quarantine I am hanging on, not losing too much sleep, and not slipping into the deep dark rabbit hole that depression is. I am talking to Dr. Payne and I know He has me, and He will help me. Then I hit a major bump in the road: my personal physician decides that she wants me to try a new medication for my asthma.

This medication doesn’t simply lead me to slip down into the rabbit hole of depression, it throws me there head first and I am suddenly lost in a maze of awful thoughts: “Nobody loves me, and I can’t do anything right!” Then thoughts of self-harm creep in, “Why am I here? Something sharp cutting into my arm would feel better than these feelings!”

Depression lies to you; it tells you that making people happy is the only way to be loved. It also tells you that nobody loves you. I then feel that I must hide my feelings from those around me. Depression and anxiety begin to constantly whisper in my ear that Dr. Payne and Princess care more about each other than they do about me.

That is not true, and I know it isn’t true, but there are times at 2 am when anxiety tells me I have to make things perfect, that doing so is the only way to be happy. In those moments I lose my grip on my emotional and mental wellbeing. I then fall back asleep, and when I wake up, most days I am in control of the negative thoughts.

There are moments of clarity when I can see happiness and daylight, and I talk to my partners about what is going on in my head. However, this is not easy.

As time marches along, and what the world tries to refer to as the “new normal” becomes a scary thing, I ponder what the current state of the world and its unpredictability mean for my mental health. I fear I may not make it to the end of 2020 as an emotionally stable person.

I must fight the demons, the demons of fear that tell me I am too much emotional garbage to be worthy of anyone’s love and attention.

I can tell myself that I am worthy. I can stand up tall, smile, and say that I am loved, I am worthy. But there are moments when I wonder if fear is right, and I am the one lying to myself.

As we talk about the struggles, Dr. Payne reminds me that when times are rough it is more important than ever to rely on our protocols, those things about Power Exchange that keep us grounded. I wish it were as easy as that. I find I have to remind myself that I am collared and owned, that I am no longer the person who struggles daily with being in charge of myself. I fall back on old shameful behaviors that I should know do not work for me. We have had more tension events than is normal, and my anxiety and inability to remember who I am now is often at the center of the tension.

The world is still chaotic, and Dr. Payne tries to filter the outside disorder as much as possible. As time marches on and quarantine is extended, ten-weeks, twelve-weeks, thirteen-weeks, thirty, I touch and acknowledge my protocols and daily tasks: the simple act of drink service, blessing Sir’s tea, and kneeling at His feet when I am in need of guidance. I continue to love and support Princess, and give consent daily to the person who has agreed to be my Dominant, to protect and love me: Dr. Payne, my husband, my Dom, my forever partner.

It hurts

Photo by Bianca Salgado from Pexels

Today it hurts

My mental illness tries to own me

The anxiety throws me into the undertow

The depression drags me under

I worry if Sir will see me struggling and pull me out

Will He notice or will I quietly slip away

Then He takes my hand

He grabs my collar

He looks into my eyes

He says, “come back to me”

I remember who owns me

And the hurt is eased

The act of SHAME

How is it that as a kinky person I still feel shame for something I do? In fact, it’s the most sexually ordinary thing I do: masturbation.

I am delighted to write kinky stories, but to talk about my own masturbation makes me turn red and want to hide my face. Masturbation is something most kinky people will talk about freely, so why do I find it so hard?

I will masturbate for Dr. Payne, but to talk about sticking my fingers in my pussy or to use a toy, leaves me squeamish.  Is it the act, or the account, that I find shameful?

It’s an odd level of shame I have trouble understanding, and it sticks with me. Why? As a submissive my life is full of personal and sexual exploration. It is very much what I am about. Dr. Payne and I tell people to feel what you are going to feel. We know from experience that bottling up feelings and denying who you are is emotionally toxic.

Thus, I find myself asking: what is my deal with masturbation? Is talking about the act of sticking my fingers into my moist pussy a necessary thing?  I feel it’s something I have to explore.

Why do I have any shame about this, and why do I feel this need to figure out that shame?

There are kinks I now love and embrace happily, that were once hard limits. I did not accept these kinks as a part of me. In the early days, even the thought of getting naked in a public dungeon wasn’t just shameful, it was horrifying! There was a certain level of self-confidence I needed to get to, and a level of shame for those specific things I needed to get past.

So now I am back to wondering why I do I have this sense I need to examine and get past this most basic of sexual activities? Might it be that my need to get past this shame has to do with a very big fear: If I do not keep moving forward—learning, growing–might I go backward to the person who was ashamed of everything about themselves and had no self-love?

I understand how important it is to not let negative emotions control me, and shame was an awfully controlling force in my life for many years.

At the heart of why I need to assess my shame in talking about masturbation is about the fact that at some level, I am still allowing shame to seep in and control certain parts of my thinking. If I am allowing shame to control me who am I really submitting to?

Now I’m back to the shame and how do I get past it? Is it about the act?

The answer is in the why I need to delve into this: It is about my submission to Dr. Payne. In my heart I have a deep need to serve Dr. Payne and I desire to please the people around me. Masturbation is often a solo thing, for my pleasure only. Pleasing myself and doing thigs strictly for myself has been historically a difficult thing for me.

In the end it seems I am still learning to love me and allow myself to be sexually free and allow myself to do things that are just for me.

Soon I may be writing tales of sticking my tiny pink vibrator in my dripping pussy and squirting all over my sheets. 

Hmm.  That didn’t feel shameful to write.  Maybe, like masturbation itself, practicing writing about masturbation makes perfect.

The effects of social distancing on my anxiety.

I get to work from home!  I was relieved, and maybe a little excited to be given permission to disconnect socially for the foreseeable future. It meant I would be avoiding the daily onslaught of people and things that influenced my ability to manage my Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). Lacking a commute meant sleeping in, and more time for me and my personal projects. I am introverted by nature: I rarely feel I get enough time to be still with myself and recharge.

The scary truth is, my own mind is often my worst enemy. A few weeks into working from home, a major problem with this disconnection is becoming apparent: it creates a breeding ground for Anxiety’s close cousin, Depression.  It’s been creeping in for small periods, but now it really wants to move in. Sometimes I would rather be curled up in bed than be productive

As humans we are wired to be social, which is problematic for us anxious introverted souls: the need to socialize is often at war with the need to be left alone.  When online for work during the week, my extroverted coworkers are starting to message me—sometimes video—and I find I am not dealing well with that unpredictable nature.

My sleep is becoming disrupted. I am waking up at 3AM unable to sleep, and lay there thinking about unimportant things: “I really need to mop!” and also truly terrifying things: “Will I be mentally well enough to return to work once this is all over?” My daily meditation time is becoming more relished, but harder and harder to quiet my mind. I am also realizing there are some unusual effects on my sex drive: I swing wildly from wanting to be cuddled to being mercilessly fucked. Sadly masturbation is less interesting: I am craving the human contact.

Even in a strong, seasoned Power Exchange relationship this kind of stress can be difficult. I find I am being reminded of protocols that were second nature a few weeks ago and, now strained, are allowing my brain to replay bad tapes over and over. The support of my Dom is important: Dr. Payne would never take my mental health for granted. However, I am starting to feel guilty for needing so much from someone who is living in the same situation and has their own set of responsibilities and fears.

We have a protocol that has become my best friend–you know, the kind of friend that reminds you to do the right thing even when you don’t want to. I have a standing order to express my feelings to Dr. Payne. All my feelings: the good, bad, and the horrifying. We are talking more than usual about where we are emotionally, and I find I am relishing these moments of connection. It helps me keep focused to know I am not alone in dealing with whatever my mind dishes out.

A sad realization has come to light in these moments of sharing: I am not truly alone. We are all cooped up at home together. Therefore, we must find ways to truly disconnect and unplug, even if for short periods, from everything that tugs at our attention. I am spending more time outside in my garden or just sitting on the front porch. If I can’t take care of myself and my mental health, I am missing an opportunity to serve, and I must take care of Sir’s property. To that end, I get to serve at home. I find comfort in those still moments when I can kneel at Sir’s feet.

What basic act of service gets you centered when everything demands your attention?


I am chaos. You can’t handle my chaos.

It’s almost impossible for anyone other than a therapist to handle my anxiety. If you were to see us at events, I appear the sweet submissive, fifties housewife. I look put together and polished, exhibiting proper protocols, always collected, calm and self-assured.

What you don’t see is the churning chaos under the surface. That possibility that I might suddenly bolt and run. My Dom holds the leash that masters my chaotic submissive soul. Most often metaphorical, but sometime real. He recognizes the chaos; Sir knows when it is about to bubble over.

One of the beautiful things for me in Power Exchange is the connection. When trust, respect, honesty and communication are all in play you get this beautiful connection between the two people exchanging power. This emotional connection is my invisible leash.

If you think Dominance is just about telling someone what to do no matter what, with or without consent, then trust, respect, honesty and communication won’t be there, and the chaos can’t be contained. For me the anxiety bubbles out in unpleasant ways in any relationship where any of those things were not there.

Consent comes after the trust, respect, honesty and communication and it is imperative to control the chaos. I have that with my Dom. My Dom appreciates my chaos, sometimes it fuels us both.