You know what?

I know this is going to be out of character for me, but I don't feel like detailing my session with Steve today. I'm kind of drained... probably some emotional fallout. For everyone who commented on last night's blog, thank you so much. I'm done. Time to focus forward and positive. (Yes, I know the grammatical structure of that sentence blows. I don't care.)

So, suffice it to say that today there was some pain...

...and quite a few tears.

My feet were cold. I wore goofy socks.

In case you can't read them, they say "XOX."

I skipped the gym. Perhaps I'll go tomorrow. Or not. For now, I'm not going to fret about that either.

I am loved, well thrashed, protected, and purged of emotional poison.

Good night. ♥

OT: The well of acid

(warning: this blog is long, and has very little to do with spanking. I'm processing stuff. If you want to skip out now, I won't be offended.)

I don't like to think of myself as an angry person. I can be snarky and cranky, a bit curmudgeonly, but truly, bitterly angry? Yeah, sometimes. I have triggers and buttons, like most of us, I guess. A certain type of person, certain behaviors, will set me off. And one of the worst of those triggers? When someone, for no good reason, tries to take someone I love/care for away from me.

I experienced this early on, as a 15-year-old, when my father met the woman who eventually became his third wife and who proceeded to make my life a living hell. She did not want him to divide his attention to her with anyone else: his friends, his colleagues, or even his own child. So she set out to machinate, manipulate and make trouble between my father and me, until the time came when his decision was forced -- her, or me. He chose her, and he and I didn't speak for 5 1/2 years. Fortunately, he came to his senses, divorced her sorry ass, and he and I were able to rise from the ashes of our burned relationship.

Cut to my adult life, and my time in the spanking scene. In my 16+ years, I've had my share of experiences with other women who had the same agenda -- they wanted something and they hated me for having it. The fact that I never did anything to them to deserve their hatred and resentment was irrelevant.

Around 2004 (I've lost track of the exact timeline), I had a great top. I recommended him to a friend of mine, they hit it off as well, so then he was playing with both of us. It was a lot of fun; we ganged up on him and pranked him, teased him on a forum where we all posted, entertained everyone with our antics. Until the two of them decided to start dating as well as being play partners. 

Suddenly, I was the enemy. She didn't want him playing with me anymore. Nor did she want him to talk to me, IM with me, or post on my forum. I lost my top and I lost a friend, and that hurt a great deal. But that wasn't the worst of it. They had a horribly tempestuous relationship, fighting often. And every time they did, I'd get angry emails from her, saying that I'd probably be happy when they crashed and burned, because then I could "have him back." Somehow, all the problems in their relationship were my fault. They broke up and got back together about half a dozen times. Meanwhile, I found a new top and moved on. But when they broke up for the last time (and he contacted me and asked if we could take up where we left off -- to which I said no), she flipped out. And told anyone and everyone who would listen to her that I had sabotaged her relationship, and what an evil woman I was.

I'd been in the scene for a while by then and had some friends... but she was an icon. She was a well-known spanking model who was idolized by many, and had been around a lot longer than I. Soon, I was hearing from third parties that people I thought were my friends were saying things like "Sever ties with Erica" and "Don't be friends with Erica; she's bad news." I didn't know who my real friends were or who was talking about me behind my back. It was horrible, it went on for a long time, and it nearly drove me out of the scene.

Cut to a few years ago. John was playing with a domme who was used to getting her own way about everything, and she wanted his complete devotion without a pesky girlfriend in the way. So she told him to break up with me. When he didn't, she set about trying to break us up with some extreme and nasty measures, ones I don't want to go into here. She damn near succeeded, too. It was a bad time, a bewildering and heartbreaking time, and I still can't hear her name without grinding my teeth.

A year and a half ago, I'd been playing with my dear and special top ST for nearly two years when he met a new woman. They started dating, and he told her about me (she was kink-friendly). She uttered a single sentence: "I don't think I like that." And I was history. She didn't know me, she'd never met me, I was no threat to her whatsoever. But I had to be banished nonetheless, and lose someone who had become important to me.

So here we are, in the present day. And when this sort of thing happened yet again, with Steve, I lost it. No, I didn't lose him. Fortunately, he cares about me and doesn't let anyone dictate with whom he can or cannot play. But the point is, this woman still tried to come between us, still wanted him to dump me. And I have found myself unable to let go of the rage and resentment. 

Last week was especially bad. I had just found out some new information about this person, and right after that, I had to deal with car troubles and root canal. I found myself seething constantly, fuming and thinking angry thoughts. I did everything I could to blow it off -- I worked out, I wrote a rather generic but pointedly angry piece for FetLife (which made K&P and got 145 "Loves"), I shared my feelings with a few trusted girlfriends. But the anger simply would not pass. My reaction was something like what I imagine people with PTSD go through. It was all-consuming.

This weekend, I talked about the situation at length with John, did a whole lot of raging and used a lot of unflattering words and phrases. (No, I didn't use that word. No one will ever reduce me to that level.) At one point today, John chided me and said, "That's not very nice." And I screamed, "Yeah, I'm a bitch! I don't care! She started it, and she wasn't nice either! And I'm sick of it! I never did anything to her! And I never did anything to... [I went on to list all the women I've mentioned in this blog -- stepmother, former friend, domme, etc.]! But they still fucked with me and I'm SICK of being fucked with! Why do these women always want to take people away from me??" And, to my shock, I put my face in my hands and burst into tears. John took me in his arms, and I cried and cried.

Beneath that seemingly bottomless well of anger within me is hurt. And fear of my own powerlessness, because there's nothing I can do or could ever do about people like this. So, instead of playing the sad victim, I got angry. And I raged, got my bitch on, and went on the defensive.

I don't want to do that anymore. Why did I title this blog "the well of acid"? Because I remembered that long ago, someone told me that harboring anger is like carrying around a vat of acid. "The acid only corrodes the vessel in which it is carried," they said.

Yeah, it's psycho-babble. But it has its truth. I'm not hurting the perpetrators, hauling around this rage. I'm only hurting myself.

I need to move on from this latest bit of insanity. This person has blocked me on FetLife, and lord only knows what kind of smack she's talking about me. However, my situation is different now. I have many more years in the scene, and many more friends. It's doubtful that anyone who matters to me will listen to her.

I will probably always have this particular trigger. I'm not saying I don't have a right to my anger. But I need to learn to deal with it and channel it better. I want my side of the street to be completely clean.

Time to take some deep breaths, and think about dumping some of the toxic, corrosive acid. In a place where it's safe, of course.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 11/15

It's been forever since I did one of these. The tidbits of idiocy are coming fewer and farther between these days; I suppose I should be grateful, huh? After all, I've seen enough of this nonsense to last a lifetime! But still, I miss doing this column. Everything's a trade-off, I suppose.

Can I can over and spank and cum

No, no, and no. And how does one "can over," anyway?

This was a comment to a photo on FetLife where it was quite clear that I'd enjoyed my spanking:

I love the damp spot. I'm not a gynaecologist but I'd be willing to to take a look to see where it is coming from!

Poor dear. Apparently you don't know where it's coming from, because no woman who's ever been with you has experienced any noticeable dampness. I'd explain it to you, but really, I can't be bothered. :-)

I am drug and decease free.

Good to know. I don't want to play with dead people. 

I could be your slave. Yes. And spamk you. Be owned by you. Orally please you

(sigh) Yet another one who doesn't get the concept of topping and bottoming. You want to orally please me? Stop talking.

An exchange on Alt last night:

Him: You've done films?
Me: You mean spanking videos? Yes, many.
Him: Ever play a baby?

Um. OK, I'm fully aware that there is an Adult Baby fetish. But me playing a baby wouldn't be suspending disbelief -- it would be blowing it to smithereens. I think I'd be the first AB with age spots and an AARP card. 

And finally, my favorite. From a 22-year-old.

You seem like a crusty old slut that needs a nice young wiener to get diddled with. Let me know!

Crusty? Crusty?? Well, butter my buns and call me sourdough.

Thank you for the offer. If I ever have the mad desire to get diddled for about 30 seconds (because that's how long your young wiener will last), I'll let you know.

So Hell Week is over. Things are a bit better. After spending a combined $2600 on my tooth and my car, I was extremely grateful when John, bless his heart, insisted on paying for the root canal. Speaking of which, it still hurts like hell and I can't chew on that side, but that will fade after a while. And yesterday, my spirits were lifted greatly when I had a nice long girlie lunch with Alex and SpankCake. I really do need more in-person girlfriend time; I forget just how special and nurturing it is. ♥

Have a great weekend, y'all.

It's only Wednesday??

Ack.

Granted, in the overall scheme of things, I'm OK. I'm not in the Philippines (oh god, those poor people), no tragedies, etc. Just a really crappy week so far. Pardon me while I whine a bit.

Started out Sunday night, when I discovered that a persistent thorn in my side -- one I thought had been plucked out and I was done with it -- had burrowed its way back in. No, I can't be any less cryptic than that, sorry. Suffice it to say that it set me off into a mood of seething anger and resentment, which didn't feel good at all. I've been trying to deal with it since then, but I can't seem to get over it. I keep ruminating on it, and I hate it when I do that.

Monday, I ran around like a busy bee, getting stuff done so that I could drop my car off at the mechanic that evening and he could have all day Tuesday to service it. I really, really looked forward to my Steve time on Tuesday.

Monday evening, Steve called and apologetically canceled. He asked if I could do Wednesday, but I said no, I'll be at the dentist.

Tuesday (yesterday), I was stuck home all day with no car, feeling a bit stir-crazy, still dealing with a lot of emotions. Then finally, my car was ready and I went to get it -- and paid $1300. @#$%&!!!

This morning, went to the endodontist for the third installment of the root canal saga. He told me that one of the reasons it was so complicated and time-consuming was because one of my tooth's roots (there are three total) had an extra canal in it. So, although I had three roots, I had four canals, all of which have to be painstakingly cleared out of everything. Lucky me! Plus I was also one of the rare ones whose crown popped off and had to be re-cemented, delaying the procedure further. Anyway, I was in the chair for nearly an hour and even though I didn't feel pain per se, it was very uncomfortable and my hands were in fists the whole time.

Drove home, the left side of my face numb up to the eyeball, feeling like I'd been beaten up. So I crawled into bed and fell asleep. The anesthetic wore off while I slept, and pain woke me. Really horrible pain, so bad it made me nauseated. I couldn't eat, so I drank a bunch of milk and took three Advil.

So now the pain has gone from about a 9 to a 4. I'll live. I just feel miserable.

Something about pain and discomfort -- the bad kind -- makes me regress into a big baby. I just want to crawl into a pair of strong arms and disappear. That, and the other emotional crap, and the car, and blah blah blah. Meh!

This too shall pass. Sorry I don't have any fun spanky stories this week. But we sure had a great Love Our Lurkers Day, didn't we? Thanks again to everyone who stopped by. Without our readers/commenters, we might as well be talking to ourselves.

Onward I go, over the hump.

Love Our Lurkers 8 -- who wants to say hello?

In just 90 minutes, it will be 11/12/13, the official date of Love Our Lurkers, in its 8th year. The brainchild of our brilliant Bonnie (of My Bottom Smarts), LOL Day is the time when several of us bloggers join to express our appreciation to our readers. We also extend an invitation to the shy ones, the ones who read faithfully but never quite have the nerve to post a comment, to step up, take a deep breath and say hello.

I don't bite, I promise. I rant, rave, snark, and bitch on occasion, but no biting. :-) I love my readers, and I love comments. So please, if you'd like, leave me a comment for LOL Day. It doesn't have to be epic; it's not a performance or a competition. Just an invitation to "de-lurk," as it were.

And of course, as always, the non-lurkers/regular commenters are welcome to join in!

I see you back there... come on out....