This was a crazy week. Crazy! Jason had some time off from work, which was fantastic. I love staying home with him, just relaxing and doing little day trips with our kids. We had a few days that we spent with each other on a bit of a "staycation," and it was lovely. The weather was warm, the days were sunny, and with our kids getting older it's a lot easier to enjoy outings and trips (when they were little it was quite the challenge!).
But we had some challenges that came up, and it put a strain on us. Not one, but several family members became gravely ill, and they needed a good deal of help from us. There were doctor visits and at one point a trip to the hospital, visitors from out of state, a birthday party, and some pretty intense meetings we had to attend for one of our children.
We've reached that stage of our lives, the season if you will, where our older children are teen-agers with very particular needs, our younger children are no longer babies but all school-age, and our parents are well entrenched in old age and the challenges that brings. It is a very different stage of life than we were when we began this lifestyle. When we began, we had no teens and had toddler and babies, and our extended family was self-sufficient. It makes a difference, as we learn to adapt, and outside influences affect our relationship.
So we had a whole lot going on. Oh, and I have two books coming out this week (see my author page for details). Eep!
Though Jason was here, and we spent a great deal of time with each other, he was stressed. I was stressed. And we all know how that goes. No bueno.
So we took steps to mitigate that stress, and it helped a great deal. He gave me stress relief and daily check-ins. We talked, we kissed, we spent time with each other, we went out to eat, I gave him space, we slept lots.
But although Jason was, and always is, my Dom, he was not really in a good place to be my strict Dom. Even though I don't get in trouble much these days, sometimes I need a firmer hand, even if I'm not in trouble.
So by the time Thursday rolled around, I'd slipped. I was snappy and grumpy. I'd not broken any rules, but I was wiped. Because here's the thing.
It takes a ton of focus to submit.
Submission doesn't come naturally for me at all. I have to work at it, fight for it, and when my focus is elsewhere -- managing my work, or attending to my children, or helping our family, all things that came up this week -- I don't slip into that head space easily. And sometimes? That means I snap.
When I've spent four hours dealing with medical issues for a relative, or had to make umpteen phone calls for my child, or had a to-do list a mile long, or spent several hours in rush hour traffic, my mental energy is expended. I simply don't always have what it takes to reach down into that reserve needed to submit, and do it. Kneel. Concede to Jason's wishes. Say, "Yes, daddy." Deny myself and focus on him.
Sometimes I just can't do it.
This is just the way it goes.
Submission takes so much work, and unless someone is wired this way to begin with, or has very little stress in his or her life, there will be times when that dedication to submission slips, and the same is true for dominance.
So what do we do when that happens? Well, this is one of the reasons he spanks me every day and why I serve him every day. Every single morning, I bring him his coffee and kneel, and that gets me back in the mindset, pushes away distractions and the dominant part of me that gets things done.
Every morning, he looks over my to-do list, reminds me of my rules, and spanks me. This entire ritual is very simple and takes only minutes, but if it doesn't happen, things slip. The ritual is what brings us both into the dominant and submissive head space we need to embrace to live this lifestyle.
We both need to serve one other.
So by Thursday, many things had come up. We hadn't done our ritual check-in yet, and I had some early morning duties. It had been one thing after another for days. He was weary. I was overwhelmed. And finally one morning, things came to a head. I was finding it harder and harder to submit, more challenging by the minute to reach deep down into myself and yield to him. My tone was getting snippy, and though I hadn't disobeyed any rules, I was not being a very good girl.
I was feeling combative and he was on the edge of withdrawal.
This is the very beginning, the first glimmer of trouble, when we slip out of the roles that serve each other and into the roles of selfishness. It was starting, just beginning. At this point usually one of us recognizes that we need some help. I might say I need some attention, or suggest he needs downtime, he might suggest I take a nap or have some daddy time with him.
This time, he put down what he was doing, got up, locked the door and said, "Get your ass over here."
I knew he was going to spank me, it was going to be painful, and I needed it.
I did not want to go to him.
I sorta stood there and hedged my bets until he opened his desk and took out a wicked implement and said, "Now." I did. And thus began the lecture.
"I don't like your attitude and it's time I adjust it for you," he said. I protested at this point, on the verge of getting my ass spanked, because I blamed him a bit for how I felt and also, to be honest, because spankings hurt and I'm only human. But there was really nothing to talk about or prevent at this point. What I really needed was a good, hard spanking, and that is exactly what I got. He didn't let up. He spanked me firmly and thoroughly, until I cried, and even when he was done, he was still a bit upset with me. Even after he spanked me, he had a few more things to say about my attitude, and that was what broke the dam.
I cried, and we talked. I explained how I'd been holding onto so much, and how I needed that spanking.
"I know you're stressed," he said. "But don't you dare mouth off to me again. If you do, I will not hesitate to spank you again."
All I could say was the truth. "I wish you would. I hate feeling this way and it helps when you keep me accountable."
I haven't said anything like that to him in a while, but it needed to be said. He said a few more things that sounded dire and scary and stern, but I needed that.
The next day, he was back on and so was I. We had even more challenges come up that were outside our control, but we handled it without fighting or getting angry with each other. We talked. He led. I yielded. We rested when we could. And now we are right back where we started.
This lifestyle isn't easy, but we wouldn't have it any other way.
He told me yesterday he was proud of me, that I'd been a good girl. I thanked him for being my daddy. And so, it goes on.