I feel it building in me, mounting frustration.
I am hurt. I am angry.
I am sad.
But I am healing. And you help me.
Sometimes I don't know how to handle these feelings.
But you always know how to handle me.
The other night, I was overwrought. I'd gotten myself to the point of no return. You tried. You tried to talk to me, but I wouldn't listen. You tried to hold me, but I pushed you away. I heard you get up and leave the room, and part of me wanted to reach back and pull you back to me because I needed you. And my heart sank when you left.
I didn't know you were making sure we had privacy. I didn't know you were coming back for me.
I did know that you were going to spank me. And deep, deep down, even though I pushed you away, and I fought, and I railed against you, I knew I needed you to stop me.
I knew it wasn't you I was fighting.
But you know me. You know the beating of my heart, the thoughts that cross my mind, what I want, and what I need.
And you love me. Oh, how you love me. Never have I seen the depth of your love as I've seen in these past few months.
You came back to me. You took my angry, irrational, overwrought self, and you calmly, firmly, without a word, spanked the frustration out of me until I wept.
And then you held me. You told me you weren't angry, and you weren't punishing me, you were only stopping me. Stopping me from hurting myself. Stopping me from hurting us.
You know me. You know when I lift my chin and turn away, that I'm not submitting. You know there's something there, something you never let lie dormant. You see it in the clenching of my fists and intake of breath. You always know.
You heard it in my voice the other night. I tried to hide it again. I didn't know why I was angry, but you're my safe place. So I pushed.
You knew by the tone of my voice I wasn't right. You called my name.
I came to you, and you sternly instructed me to kneel. I didn't want to. I wanted to tell you no, I wanted to push you. I wanted to disobey, but I made myself kneel.
You made me talk, and as I did, it all tumbled out, the thoughts and feelings I didn't even know I was walling up inside me. The hurt and frustration came out, and as tears streamed down my face, you brushed them away and listened.
And I was a little bit better, as you helped me heal.
You know it's not you I'm angry at. You know I just need some space, and time, as I go on, moving past this hurt that won't ever completely heal, or completely go away.
I love that you are helping me heal.
You are so good to me.
I don't like feeling this way. I don't like when I get angry with you, when you've done nothing at all to deserve my anger. It's not you. But you know that. I'm so thankful you know that.
A few nights ago, I started again. I felt the anger mounting, and I lost my control. I stood, fists clenched by my side, angry, venomous words spilling out of my mouth, and you knew. You knew it was happening again. Your blue, blue eyes pierced right through me and one phrase stopped me. The one phrase you say, in that stern voice of yours, that grabs me by the shoulders and makes me stop.
"I don't want to," I whispered, but of course you didn't take that for your answer. So I obeyed, reluctantly, as I crossed the room. I wondered if I would get a spanking again. I knew I deserved a spanking.
But you told me to hold your hand. I obeyed.
"Lay your head on my chest," you commanded, and I didn't want to. But I did. And as my head sank to your chest, my hand clasped in yours, your other hand began to stroke my hair, and my anger was gone.
"I don't want you to get a spanking," you whispered, and I felt the tears begin. "You don't need to get in trouble. Not tonight," you said, and the words began to tumble out of my mouth.
My anger was gone, as you held me. As you listened.
As you helped me heal.
Every single day, it gets just a little bit better.
Every time I wake from a bad dream, when the hurt and sadness comes to me even in my sleep, and you hold me, and tell me you will always be there for me, and you tuck me back in and whisper calming, sweet things until I fall back asleep under the protection of your arms.
Every time you put me over your lap and spank the frustration out of me.
Every time you put your arms around me and say, "You will get through this, and I'm helping you," it gets just that much easier to bear.
Every time you whisper, "Go to sleep, little one," before bed, and you kiss me, it becomes that much easier to bear.
Every tear you wipe away. Every tearful memory you listen to. Every time you make me laugh.
You help me heal.
And I will always love you for that.