The Non Physical Cuddle
Carrielily asked me about aftercare a while ago and amid a lot of weird rambling (I have some stuff I need to get out of my head and get down "on paper"), I am going to attempt to answer her question here...
My writing is a way for me to express myself. I am able to tell stories, verbalize my feelings, or create any of the soul searching, angst ridden literary vomit-fest-like blog posts I have been prone to on occasion. I am able to "talk about my feelings" through my writing.
In person, however? Face to face with another human being? If I wanted spilled guts, I would go to a fish market, thank you very much....
I guess you could say that I am not in my comfort zone when verbalizing my feelings, so I make it a habit to avoid it if at all possible.
I am not an outwardly touchy feely person. Actually, barring the inevitable estrogen moment, I am sort of like a guy when it comes to girlie type displays of emotions. I get uncomfortable around "emotionals"....those people who tend to gush, snivel, hug/touch excessively or coo over me.
And you can just forget about the people who make the mistake of doing any sort of weeping/sobbing/wailing/gnashing of teeth in front of me. They are treated to a gaping stare and an expression of vague surprise mixed with bemused horror, while my mind frantically searches for the least obtrusive way for me to run screaming from the room.
I am pretty okay with expressing anger. Well I am good at *showing* that I am angry, which is not the same thing, is it? I am very good at expressing my trademark "happy go lucky nothing bothers me" emotion, though. And I am good at talking about "non-threatening" emotions.
Beyond that, anyone who knows me knows that they need a crowbar to get me to talk about my feelings because I am a bit emotionally locked up. I think I have pretty much always been this way, and no matter what friends, loved ones and even some professionals have tried, getting me to talk about my feelings is a bit like trying to herd cats. It just doesn't happen. Even after many long and frustrating hours.
When I was a sophomore in high school, my parents sent me to a psychiatrist because my grades had started to drop and I was getting into trouble in school and they thought I kept my feelings about the big D (Divorce) bottled up. They were right of course, and even then I knew they were right, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to some head shrinker about my feelings.
I remember catching bits and pieces of the conversation over the music that blared out of the headphones of my walkman as my mother carefully presented their plan to have me seek "counseling". Counseling. The way she half whispered the word made me want to laugh, but I went out of morbid curiosity and spent one hour a week for the next 7 months, with an eminent Boston child psychiatrist.
Well, I sat in a room with said psychiatrist.....and played Game Boy.
During my first session, after about 15 minutes of deafening silence, my psychiatrist asked me what I was thinking about. "Uh....I dunno, that I would rather be sniffing glue right now than talk to you about my feelings?" It might have been at that point that he pulled a Game Boy off one of his bookshelves and handed it to me.
Looking back, I think he was trying to use the video game as a way to put me at ease, with the hope that I would open up, but it never happened. I don't tell my life story to friends, random passerbys, my siblings, or to my parents, so there was no way I would EVER be comfortable letting it all hang out with this guy, so I played Game Boy for the next 7 months.
He never did get me to talk.....but he did let me keep the Game Boy.
So what does this have to do with aftercare, or spanking for that matter? I was asked how post spanking cuddles work in my relationship with Professor.......aftercare. The short answer is non physical cuddling.
What do we do after a good spanking? We talk. And talk. And talk.
Talking....*really* talking post spanking is for us, amazing....and healing....and bond forming...and illuminating....and trust building. I would say that lengthy open and honest emails aside, our post spanking talks are responsible for establishing the framework of our relationship.
It is post spanking that I am able to find my voice. While many bottoms need to connect physically with their Tops after a spanking by cuddling or other acts of physical intimacy, I am able to and *need* to connect emotionally.
The combination of physical intimacy and the pain of a sound spanking weakens and/or breaks down enough of my walls that I am able to be open and vulnerable. My guard is down after a spanking, so I am able to talk about things I normally can't/won't talk about and Professor listens.
The weirdest thing? All of the post spanking talking? It's made me feel a bit more at ease about expressing my feelings at other times as well.
Am I like an emotional open book now? Hardly. But I am getting better. I am getting better at talking about how I feel....and I am getting better at telling Professor that I even need to talk.
So that is what aftercare is for us. Non physical cuddling.
I need a little non physical cuddling right now actually, after spending Thanksgiving with my family, life long residents of Dysfunction Junction.
The Thanksgiving horror show was held at my house and included, among other honored guests... parents *and* step parents.
I managed to walk on egg shells without drinking myself into a numbfilled stupor by 11 am, and for a while, I thought things were going to be okay. Until it came time to carve the turkey.....then all hell broke loose.
Before StudyBoy had the chance to pull the carving knife out of its box, my stepdad threw the first volley.....calling my dad a horrible father.
Yeah. Nice huh? Just like that....he let it all hang out in front of everyone....gnashing his teeth and such.
Of course immediately all eyes were on me, the progeny of said sucky father, and even now, I am not sure what everyone expected me to do. React? Over react? Gnash my own teeth? I dunno.
I didn't get the chance to do anything though, because while I was torn between wishing for some random vortex in the space time continuum to suddenly open up and swallow me whole, and running from the room in search of my Game Boy, my dad counter attacked.
His assertion that not only was my stepdad a poor excuse for a father figure to me, but also a horrible husband to my mother, just added to the overall uncomfortable vibe we now had going on. What followed was the inevitable weird silence while everyone in the room stared at me except of course for the two teeth gnashers, who were too busy glaring at each other to gape at me.
Yeah, it sucked.....muchly.
After several excrutiatingly long moments, they realized what they had done, and so they started apologizing. All of my guests were still looking at me, and both of them (at the same time!) attempted to hug me warmly so as to reassure me without making the whole incident freakier than it already was (which, with the three of us wrapped up in a freakish kumbaya group hugfest, was already *very*, *very* freaky), embarrassing me even further.
But even though I was pretty upset, and feeling very freakish and overwhelmed, I didn't want to ruin the rest of the day by making waves, so I just stood there and let them hug me awkwardly, all the while holding out for a glimmer of hope that a vortex might still appear.
But it never did..... and for the life of me..... I couldn't remember where I put my Game Boy.
So I shrugged it all off, plastered a big goofy grin on my face, and made some lame comment about turkey. Several minutes later we were all sitting at the holiday table, and while I moved food around my plate in an attempt to at least look like I was eating, I seethed. At first I seethed...and then I was confused......and then I guess I felt hurt.
And then I tried to understand why I wanted to act like I was OK, even though I wasn't and just wanted to be able to say so.....but couldn't. Instead I pushed it all down, shut it off... and went on auto pilot.
And I still haven't said it bothered me. Or talked about how it made me feel. Not outloud. Not here.
I am writing this post....and I also sent Professor an email. It was an email giving him an abbreviated version of what I just recounted here....and even there I don't think I wrote about how it made me feel. Not really.
And so that brings me back to the non physical cuddle, because you see, besides emailing Professor about what happened, I also asked if he and I could have a little one on one time together next week. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Maybe we could meet for lunch, and a bit of cane play.
And then maybe while he works, because I know it is the end of the semester and he is very busy, maybe I can just hang out in his office and just....sort of be. And maybe talk. And he can be there to listen.
I dunno. It could be that I have grown up....but I think Game Boy sort of sucks now, you know?
My writing is a way for me to express myself. I am able to tell stories, verbalize my feelings, or create any of the soul searching, angst ridden literary vomit-fest-like blog posts I have been prone to on occasion. I am able to "talk about my feelings" through my writing.
In person, however? Face to face with another human being? If I wanted spilled guts, I would go to a fish market, thank you very much....
I guess you could say that I am not in my comfort zone when verbalizing my feelings, so I make it a habit to avoid it if at all possible.
I am not an outwardly touchy feely person. Actually, barring the inevitable estrogen moment, I am sort of like a guy when it comes to girlie type displays of emotions. I get uncomfortable around "emotionals"....those people who tend to gush, snivel, hug/touch excessively or coo over me.
And you can just forget about the people who make the mistake of doing any sort of weeping/sobbing/wailing/gnashing of teeth in front of me. They are treated to a gaping stare and an expression of vague surprise mixed with bemused horror, while my mind frantically searches for the least obtrusive way for me to run screaming from the room.
I am pretty okay with expressing anger. Well I am good at *showing* that I am angry, which is not the same thing, is it? I am very good at expressing my trademark "happy go lucky nothing bothers me" emotion, though. And I am good at talking about "non-threatening" emotions.
Beyond that, anyone who knows me knows that they need a crowbar to get me to talk about my feelings because I am a bit emotionally locked up. I think I have pretty much always been this way, and no matter what friends, loved ones and even some professionals have tried, getting me to talk about my feelings is a bit like trying to herd cats. It just doesn't happen. Even after many long and frustrating hours.
When I was a sophomore in high school, my parents sent me to a psychiatrist because my grades had started to drop and I was getting into trouble in school and they thought I kept my feelings about the big D (Divorce) bottled up. They were right of course, and even then I knew they were right, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to some head shrinker about my feelings.
I remember catching bits and pieces of the conversation over the music that blared out of the headphones of my walkman as my mother carefully presented their plan to have me seek "counseling". Counseling. The way she half whispered the word made me want to laugh, but I went out of morbid curiosity and spent one hour a week for the next 7 months, with an eminent Boston child psychiatrist.
Well, I sat in a room with said psychiatrist.....and played Game Boy.
During my first session, after about 15 minutes of deafening silence, my psychiatrist asked me what I was thinking about. "Uh....I dunno, that I would rather be sniffing glue right now than talk to you about my feelings?" It might have been at that point that he pulled a Game Boy off one of his bookshelves and handed it to me.
Looking back, I think he was trying to use the video game as a way to put me at ease, with the hope that I would open up, but it never happened. I don't tell my life story to friends, random passerbys, my siblings, or to my parents, so there was no way I would EVER be comfortable letting it all hang out with this guy, so I played Game Boy for the next 7 months.
He never did get me to talk.....but he did let me keep the Game Boy.
So what does this have to do with aftercare, or spanking for that matter? I was asked how post spanking cuddles work in my relationship with Professor.......aftercare. The short answer is non physical cuddling.
What do we do after a good spanking? We talk. And talk. And talk.
Talking....*really* talking post spanking is for us, amazing....and healing....and bond forming...and illuminating....and trust building. I would say that lengthy open and honest emails aside, our post spanking talks are responsible for establishing the framework of our relationship.
It is post spanking that I am able to find my voice. While many bottoms need to connect physically with their Tops after a spanking by cuddling or other acts of physical intimacy, I am able to and *need* to connect emotionally.
The combination of physical intimacy and the pain of a sound spanking weakens and/or breaks down enough of my walls that I am able to be open and vulnerable. My guard is down after a spanking, so I am able to talk about things I normally can't/won't talk about and Professor listens.
The weirdest thing? All of the post spanking talking? It's made me feel a bit more at ease about expressing my feelings at other times as well.
Am I like an emotional open book now? Hardly. But I am getting better. I am getting better at talking about how I feel....and I am getting better at telling Professor that I even need to talk.
So that is what aftercare is for us. Non physical cuddling.
I need a little non physical cuddling right now actually, after spending Thanksgiving with my family, life long residents of Dysfunction Junction.
The Thanksgiving horror show was held at my house and included, among other honored guests... parents *and* step parents.
I managed to walk on egg shells without drinking myself into a numbfilled stupor by 11 am, and for a while, I thought things were going to be okay. Until it came time to carve the turkey.....then all hell broke loose.
Before StudyBoy had the chance to pull the carving knife out of its box, my stepdad threw the first volley.....calling my dad a horrible father.
Yeah. Nice huh? Just like that....he let it all hang out in front of everyone....gnashing his teeth and such.
Of course immediately all eyes were on me, the progeny of said sucky father, and even now, I am not sure what everyone expected me to do. React? Over react? Gnash my own teeth? I dunno.
I didn't get the chance to do anything though, because while I was torn between wishing for some random vortex in the space time continuum to suddenly open up and swallow me whole, and running from the room in search of my Game Boy, my dad counter attacked.
His assertion that not only was my stepdad a poor excuse for a father figure to me, but also a horrible husband to my mother, just added to the overall uncomfortable vibe we now had going on. What followed was the inevitable weird silence while everyone in the room stared at me except of course for the two teeth gnashers, who were too busy glaring at each other to gape at me.
Yeah, it sucked.....muchly.
After several excrutiatingly long moments, they realized what they had done, and so they started apologizing. All of my guests were still looking at me, and both of them (at the same time!) attempted to hug me warmly so as to reassure me without making the whole incident freakier than it already was (which, with the three of us wrapped up in a freakish kumbaya group hugfest, was already *very*, *very* freaky), embarrassing me even further.
But even though I was pretty upset, and feeling very freakish and overwhelmed, I didn't want to ruin the rest of the day by making waves, so I just stood there and let them hug me awkwardly, all the while holding out for a glimmer of hope that a vortex might still appear.
But it never did..... and for the life of me..... I couldn't remember where I put my Game Boy.
So I shrugged it all off, plastered a big goofy grin on my face, and made some lame comment about turkey. Several minutes later we were all sitting at the holiday table, and while I moved food around my plate in an attempt to at least look like I was eating, I seethed. At first I seethed...and then I was confused......and then I guess I felt hurt.
And then I tried to understand why I wanted to act like I was OK, even though I wasn't and just wanted to be able to say so.....but couldn't. Instead I pushed it all down, shut it off... and went on auto pilot.
And I still haven't said it bothered me. Or talked about how it made me feel. Not outloud. Not here.
I am writing this post....and I also sent Professor an email. It was an email giving him an abbreviated version of what I just recounted here....and even there I don't think I wrote about how it made me feel. Not really.
And so that brings me back to the non physical cuddle, because you see, besides emailing Professor about what happened, I also asked if he and I could have a little one on one time together next week. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Maybe we could meet for lunch, and a bit of cane play.
And then maybe while he works, because I know it is the end of the semester and he is very busy, maybe I can just hang out in his office and just....sort of be. And maybe talk. And he can be there to listen.
I dunno. It could be that I have grown up....but I think Game Boy sort of sucks now, you know?