A few weeks ago, Jason was cleaning out a drawer in our bedroom, and found a stack of those kitchy love coupon things I made for him years ago, so long ago that it was before we were into this whole spanky thing. How did we know? He called me to him, and showed me the cards. We laughed, and joked, but then he got to one that said, “Win One Fight.” He grinned, tossed it on the bed, and said, “Well, this one is now useless, since I win all the fights.” We laughed, and although he was being facetious, there was a ring of truth in what he says. Since I defer to his headship over me, he does get the final say. I do defer to him. But of course there are times when I state my opinion and he changes his mind.
Then about a week ago, we were driving alone in the car, just the two of us, and we talked about fights. Jason laughed. “We do fight,” he said. “Then I win, you get spanked, and we all live happily ever after.” We laughed, because it was kind of funny…and sorta true. Now, I certainly don’t get spanked for disagreeing with him. What gets me spanked is when I lose my temper, and get disrespectful (which is most apt to happen when I’m feeling hurt). And there are certainly times when I state my case and he caves, and even sometimes when he does something wrong (shocker!), he has to admit that he was wrong, and ask for my forgiveness. We’re only human.
However, when people ask if we still argue or fight, I typically say, “We don’t really fight.” I don’t say, “We never fight,” but what I mean is…it’s really really rare. We communicate clearly and often, and the dynamic we have in place helps us sort things out. Disagreements, the huge majority of the time, are sorted out before we ever actually get upset with one another. We talk it out. He is the authority here, so most often I defer to him (sometimes I don’t, and that doesn’t usually end up very well for me.) So this is how it’s been now for several years.
So imagine how things went the other day, then, when Jason and I got into one of the worst fight we’ve had in years.
It was bad. Oh boy was it bad. I wasn’t even going to blog about it, to be honest, because it was just too raw. But I do like to keep things real here, and enough time has passed that I can talk about it without that little pang in my chest. Yeah, it was bad.
It was a night like any other. Things were going pretty well, actually. And out of the blue (for reasons he later explained to me, but I did not understand at the time), Jason made an executive decision without consulting me that I so totally didn’t agree with. Now, looking back on it? I can honestly say he made the right decision. But in the moment? I most vehemently disagreed with him.
This girl has a temper, y’all. I get feisty and outspoken and all that…I really am not a submissive person by nature. I am submissive to Jason, and I love our dynamic. But in regular every day life? It’s just not how I’m wired. Four years and a gazillion spankings later, I have for sure learned how to keep my tongue in check. Most of the time I can communicate to Jason submissively…respectfully…and still maintain honesty and transparency. But sometimes? Nope.
So I marched myself upstairs to him and gave him a piece of my mind. Oh the little angel on my shoulder was telling me to stop! Don’t do it! But the little devil on other shoulder spurred me on, and so, I confronted him. Heatedly. Angrily. Words flew. And Jason looked at me with that oh-so-implacable Dom look and told me exactly how things were going to go down. He told me he’d made up his mind, it was not up for discussion, and that was that.
I lost it. I swore at him (badly). I ranted and raved like a total spoiled brat. I was pissed. Now, I’m not going to get into details, but I will say that I had good reason to be upset, and I think that many in my situation would’ve reacted the same way. But as I stomped off, he yelled, “You’ll be sorry for the way you’re behaving.”
“I don’t care!” I screamed at him.
“Oh, you will,” he said.
I knew I was in trouble but I was too mad to care. This has happened to me a few times, and I’ve gone to Maisy and she’s been able to sort me out good, and I can bring myself up to Jason repentant and face the music. Not this time. I wouldn’t listen to her. I was too furious with him. After a while, I got myself together and decided I would go upstairs to him to discuss things rationally. What I really wanted to do was explain to him why I was right and he was wrong, and hopefully he would admit he was wrong. Ha! And then I’d get my ass spanked good and hard because did I ever mouth off. Sigh.
Nope. That didn’t happen. I did go upstairs, and we did talk calmly and rationally, but we were two damn stubborn people staunchly defending their positions. There was no give for either of us. I stormed off and got ready for bed, and curled up at the other end of the bed. I didn’t want to talk to him. In the past when we’ve had a disagreement like this, one or both of us were ready to come around by bedtime, and we were able to set things to rights again. That night? We were both too angry. He was way too angry with me to discipline me, and I was way too angry to submit anyway.
I slept horribly. So did he. The next morning, I woke up early, and by then, I was so ready to set things back to rights again, but I still felt justified in my anger. So when Jason was ready to deal with me, I went up, and I thought I was in a submissive mindset. I really wasn’t though. I was still angry with him. He called me to him, and pointed to the floor for me to kneel. Down I went.
“What is the rule we have in this house about being respectful?” Frowning, I spouted off the rule.
“What is your rule for swearing?” I told him, with a sigh.
“Did you obey me?”
At this point, I was squirming. “No, Daddy.”
“Get over my lap.” He stripped me, and he put me over his lap, and he gave me an awful spanking. I will readily admit I deserved it. We’ve been in this way too long for me to behave the way I did and get away with it. Even in the moment, I knew that. He spanked me long and hard, and I hated every single minute of it. When he was done, he pushed me back down on my knees and I was crying good and hard. I sniffled my way through and he gave me what felt like an obligatory hug and…I went on and on about why I got so mad at him. He went on and on about why he made the decision he did.
We were not okay! The spanking didn’t solve pretty much anything. My wall was still up, and so was his. So he left for work in a huff, and I bawled my eyes out.
God, that was an awful day. Simply awful. I ached from the spanking, but worse than that, my heart hurt from the disconnect with Jason. I wanted to be his babygirl. I wanted to be forgiven, and consoled. I wanted to be right again. We didn’t have reconciliation. My heart longed for it.
So I sat down and thought about everything. Why Jason made the decision he did. That if I really thought about it? He’d made the right decision. My heart was heavy as I went about my tasks for the day. I felt devastated, sick to my stomach, so eager to have him home. I picked up my phone, and I sent him a text. I told him I’d thought about what went wrong. That if I had come to him in a repentant state of mind instead of being defensive, that our morning would’ve gone off a lot smoother than it had. I told him the God’s honest truth.
“I’m so sorry.”
Minutes later, his reply came back to me. “I’m proud of you. You’re a good girl.”
I cried my eyes out. I still had to go about the day, and it wasn’t easy. When he finally came home, he was back…my Jason, my daddy was back. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was ready to be on, and ready to make things right. He brought me right upstairs, and he gave me a big hug, and we talked things out. He asked if I was feeling better…and the honest truth?
I wasn’t. I can’t even really explain why, but the whole experience was really hard to just “get over.” I couldn’t just “feel” right again. We had responsibilities to tend do, and we didn’t have time alone after than for a few hours. I still felt…distant from him. Lingering sadness. It wasn’t until our kids were in bed, that I snuggled up on his chest and cried it all out. He held me, and kissed me, and told me that all was forgiven. He assured me that he loves me, and that he tries so hard to do what’s best for our family, and that he knows it’s hard when I don’t agree, but that I had to trust him. I do. I really, really do. But sometimes, it’s just not easy.
So, the funny thing is? The next day, we were all over each other. We couldn’t stop touching each other, and smiling, and taking little moments to ourselves throughout the day. He held me, and we kissed, and he squeezed my hand or gave me a hug from behind when he walked in the kitchen. We spent every minute with each other. It took me by total surprise. This went on for days. It was just so good to be “right” with each other again.
I’ve found myself over his knee since then, but it was nothing like that fight. Gosh, nothing ever has been before and I sincerely hope that they won’t be like that again. We are used to being close, and connected, and understanding each other. We’re used to things being really, really good. It’s nice to not fight, or argue, and to be connected. But I guess that the fights still happen sometimes, and that’s okay. Because in the end, an awful breach like this did bring us closer together. We both learned from this. It wasn’t something I’d ever care to repeat, but at the same time, I’m almost sorta glad it happened. It was a good reminder that even though we understand each other in all this, that we’re still going to make mistakes. We’re still going to hurt each other.
But we aren’t going to give up. That, I think, makes all the difference.