Spanko Waste Management
My rebellion is over. It ran its course and tomorrow I am free to return to the chatting world.
The two are mutually exclusive though. My rebellion is over not because my punishment is over. Its over because I touched base with Professor via phone yesterday and so the whole rebellion thing sort of fizzled. It wasn't because he stomped on me for being rebellious however.
I often wonder where fantasy ends and reality begins in a spanking dynamic like the one we share. We are spanking partners and we both have "real lives" outside of our dynamic. but what does that mean exactly? Real lives? Where does real begin and fantasy end?
Someone once used the term "secret garden of spanking". That would imply a walled off fantasy world within which Professor and I are able to share our passion for spanking and then return to the rest of our lives. The fantasy aspect of the dynamic....the ability to focus completely on the kink and nothing else.
It is true that by design, our sessions are played out behind the walls of a spanking secret garden (or hotel room), safely tucked away from the more mundane matters of life. There are no every day life type interruptions like leaky faucets, or broken garbage disposals, or paper boys knocking on the door to collect money.
There are no moments of complaining that he hasn't cleaned the gutters even though I already asked him three times and left a note on the fridge, or conversations about whether or not we should get heated seats in the new car. In our "secret garden", our roles are clearly defined and unencumbered by the banal responsibilities of "real life".
So is what we have just an elaborate fantasy? Where does reality begin and fantasy end?
When I started exploring my kink, I decided early on that I wanted a partner who was more than just a Spanker. I didn't just want a whack whack whack dynamic....I wanted more. I wanted a relationship with someone with whom I could share my love of spanking.
I wanted someone who was not only a fellow spanko, but I also wanted someone who would be Mentor, Disciplinarian, and someone I could look up to. Someone in authority, someone I could idolize, emulate, and trust to take care of my well being....someone who would help me grow into myself. And so in theory, Professor was selected to be my Spanker. My Kink Tour Guide. My Mentor, Teacher, Disciplinarian and my Adult Male Role Model.
In theory. In reality, I have had a hard time letting him be all those things. Even in my own head. When I would talk or write about us, I referred to what we have as a "dynamic".
Look up the word dynamic in the dictionary:
dy-nam-ic: n. An interactive system or process, especially one involving competing or conflicting forces.
It doesn't exactly fill you with warm and fuzzy feelings does it?
There are two conflicting parts to me. The part that desperately wants someone to look up to....that Role Model I spoke of, and the other part; the insecure and fearful part.
I was made, or wired, due to experience I guess, with this built-in "inner voice" that is more than a little skeptical of becoming dependent on or relying on someone in a relationship. And my inner voice is especially wary of relationships where there is the chance I may begin to admire the other person as well as rely on them.
So wary in fact, and persistent, and loud, that if I don't continually stay on top of it.....stay aware of it, then it overwhelms me. And it clouds my interpretation of things and can alter my behavior or reactions.
And with Professor, this wariness or insecurity, manifests itself in the form of fear and stubborn denial. I was unable to reconcile in myself that I could possibly need him, and so I would constantly refer to us as the "dynamic". To minimize the importance of it to me. I would try to compartmentalize as best as I could, to protect myself. And sometimes even now, my inner voice whispers that this is just an elaborate role play, a scene taken from a spanking play bill and we are just acting the parts.
Why?
Insecurity. Fear.
I am either afraid that Professor is going to eventually decide I am too much work and not worth the trouble, or I am afraid this really is just about two people getting their spanking groove on. And that would make me just a silly little girl if I think that all of the mentoring stuff is anything more than part of his act, so I'd better be careful and not be too needy or he may decide the whole thing is too much work, and..... you get the picture.
And yeah, so this is all about my own emotional junk, or what a head shrinker might refer to as "emotional dishonesty due to a fear of abandonment". Blah Blah Blah. Yada Yada Yada.
Psychobabble aside, my junk has made me a "coper". Simply put, when things get tough, I don't deal, I cope by repressing or suppressing or just plain avoiding. It is a skill that has served me well over the years....to a point. It has served me in the sense that it allowed me to survive, but not to thrive.
Its one of those PSY 101 cliche things:
Girl has emotional junk and girl interprets and/or reacts to stimuli while wearing her "junk colored" glasses. Junk colors her view on life...her perceptions, forcing her to revert back to her bag of coping tricks and it is a defense mechanism so deeply ingrained, that Girl is usually unaware of it in the moment (ie. not seeing the forest for the trees....or in my case, not seeing the jungle).
Girl on a good day, recognizes her junk and wishes she could control it. Girl on a bad day, is deep in the unhealthy coping jungle, and not only is she oblivious to the fact that she is even IN the jungle, but she doesn't recognize that the creepy tour guide who got her there in the first place is her arch nemesis, junk. And so, oblivious Girl spends much of her time "reacting" rather than living.
Someone told me once that most people have junk:
In fact, a majority of people have some emotional junk. Think of it as the scars of living. We all get bumps and bruises from living life. It is the same way emotionally.
Well, what about normal people?
Oh, there's no such thing as normal. There is such a thing as healthy though. The thing that distinguishes the healthy from the not so healthy? Healthy people acknowledge their junk and resolve not to let it control them.
Ohhhh...okay, that makes sense. People can have junk and not only survive, but thrive. And the thing that separates the survivors from the thrivers is Good Emotional Waste Management. Yeah.
I think I tend to treat emotional waste management like the way I clean. In my house, I love the appearance of order, and the only way I know how to achieve that is by shoving everything into the closets and underneath the beds. As I said, it is an appearance of order.
So if coping vs. good waste management is like sweeping dirt under the carpet vs. sweeping it into a dustpan and disposing of it properly, I am an emotional "sweep under the carpet" type.
No, I am a "sweep so much emotional junk under the carpet that it forms a very large mound, and then I have to spend an inordinate amount of time standing on the mound holding a large handwritten sign that says ~ Please ignore the large mound under my feet. I am fine. Really.~, type. All I need is a tin can with a few dollar bills in it and I am good to go.
The problem with my master plan of coping? When I say I am fine, I am a big fat liar. I am not fine. I am anything but fine. And, I suffer from the delusional idea that if I say I am fine enough times, not only will I convince every passerby that stops to gawk at me standing on my carpeted mound that I am fine, but I will also convince myself. It never works though. Because no matter how many times I say it, I am not fine.
What do I sweep under the rug? Hurt, sadness, vulnerability, needs, fears, feelings.
And so, there I be, standing on my carpeted mound of emotional junk with my sign, telling people I am okay...that I don't need anything...that I am an emotional island......
I am an emotional island with a large pile of rocks at my feet. And every once in a while, I throw a rock through a window, or at a passerby, in order to relieve some of the strain of trying to contain that mound. And if that doesn't work, I start to throw boulders.
Coping really is "just surviving". And I think Good Management is more than "surviving"....it is "thriving". I have always been a "coper", but I want more. I am not content just to survive..... I want to thrive. I really do.
So what does this have to do with my rebellion?
It has to do with not being okay and sweeping stuff under rugs and throwing rocks. And it has to do with Professor noticing the largish mound under my feet and spying the rocks in my hand and knowing precisely what I was doing with them and why. And so he took the rocks away and in doing so, he showed me something very important. Hugely important.
Where does real begin and fantasy end? With the word, relationship.
When I need his attention, his help, his caring....when I need him to take the time to listen and just be there to tell me it will all be okay, it isn't about being dependent, or being independent for that matter. It is about me needing him because he cares for me and wants to protect me. It has nothing to do with being "too much trouble" or "needy", and everything to do with a girl who needs her Mentor simply because she just does.
When life gets tough....when things happen....I don't have to sweep it under the rug anymore. And I don't have to handle it alone. Because Professor is here. He is here to pluck me out of my jungle....to weather the storm with me. To,in his words, "help me get through it".
Now I just have to let him in.
The two are mutually exclusive though. My rebellion is over not because my punishment is over. Its over because I touched base with Professor via phone yesterday and so the whole rebellion thing sort of fizzled. It wasn't because he stomped on me for being rebellious however.
I often wonder where fantasy ends and reality begins in a spanking dynamic like the one we share. We are spanking partners and we both have "real lives" outside of our dynamic. but what does that mean exactly? Real lives? Where does real begin and fantasy end?
Someone once used the term "secret garden of spanking". That would imply a walled off fantasy world within which Professor and I are able to share our passion for spanking and then return to the rest of our lives. The fantasy aspect of the dynamic....the ability to focus completely on the kink and nothing else.
It is true that by design, our sessions are played out behind the walls of a spanking secret garden (or hotel room), safely tucked away from the more mundane matters of life. There are no every day life type interruptions like leaky faucets, or broken garbage disposals, or paper boys knocking on the door to collect money.
There are no moments of complaining that he hasn't cleaned the gutters even though I already asked him three times and left a note on the fridge, or conversations about whether or not we should get heated seats in the new car. In our "secret garden", our roles are clearly defined and unencumbered by the banal responsibilities of "real life".
So is what we have just an elaborate fantasy? Where does reality begin and fantasy end?
When I started exploring my kink, I decided early on that I wanted a partner who was more than just a Spanker. I didn't just want a whack whack whack dynamic....I wanted more. I wanted a relationship with someone with whom I could share my love of spanking.
I wanted someone who was not only a fellow spanko, but I also wanted someone who would be Mentor, Disciplinarian, and someone I could look up to. Someone in authority, someone I could idolize, emulate, and trust to take care of my well being....someone who would help me grow into myself. And so in theory, Professor was selected to be my Spanker. My Kink Tour Guide. My Mentor, Teacher, Disciplinarian and my Adult Male Role Model.
In theory. In reality, I have had a hard time letting him be all those things. Even in my own head. When I would talk or write about us, I referred to what we have as a "dynamic".
Look up the word dynamic in the dictionary:
dy-nam-ic: n. An interactive system or process, especially one involving competing or conflicting forces.
It doesn't exactly fill you with warm and fuzzy feelings does it?
There are two conflicting parts to me. The part that desperately wants someone to look up to....that Role Model I spoke of, and the other part; the insecure and fearful part.
I was made, or wired, due to experience I guess, with this built-in "inner voice" that is more than a little skeptical of becoming dependent on or relying on someone in a relationship. And my inner voice is especially wary of relationships where there is the chance I may begin to admire the other person as well as rely on them.
So wary in fact, and persistent, and loud, that if I don't continually stay on top of it.....stay aware of it, then it overwhelms me. And it clouds my interpretation of things and can alter my behavior or reactions.
And with Professor, this wariness or insecurity, manifests itself in the form of fear and stubborn denial. I was unable to reconcile in myself that I could possibly need him, and so I would constantly refer to us as the "dynamic". To minimize the importance of it to me. I would try to compartmentalize as best as I could, to protect myself. And sometimes even now, my inner voice whispers that this is just an elaborate role play, a scene taken from a spanking play bill and we are just acting the parts.
Why?
Insecurity. Fear.
I am either afraid that Professor is going to eventually decide I am too much work and not worth the trouble, or I am afraid this really is just about two people getting their spanking groove on. And that would make me just a silly little girl if I think that all of the mentoring stuff is anything more than part of his act, so I'd better be careful and not be too needy or he may decide the whole thing is too much work, and..... you get the picture.
And yeah, so this is all about my own emotional junk, or what a head shrinker might refer to as "emotional dishonesty due to a fear of abandonment". Blah Blah Blah. Yada Yada Yada.
Psychobabble aside, my junk has made me a "coper". Simply put, when things get tough, I don't deal, I cope by repressing or suppressing or just plain avoiding. It is a skill that has served me well over the years....to a point. It has served me in the sense that it allowed me to survive, but not to thrive.
Its one of those PSY 101 cliche things:
Girl has emotional junk and girl interprets and/or reacts to stimuli while wearing her "junk colored" glasses. Junk colors her view on life...her perceptions, forcing her to revert back to her bag of coping tricks and it is a defense mechanism so deeply ingrained, that Girl is usually unaware of it in the moment (ie. not seeing the forest for the trees....or in my case, not seeing the jungle).
Girl on a good day, recognizes her junk and wishes she could control it. Girl on a bad day, is deep in the unhealthy coping jungle, and not only is she oblivious to the fact that she is even IN the jungle, but she doesn't recognize that the creepy tour guide who got her there in the first place is her arch nemesis, junk. And so, oblivious Girl spends much of her time "reacting" rather than living.
Someone told me once that most people have junk:
In fact, a majority of people have some emotional junk. Think of it as the scars of living. We all get bumps and bruises from living life. It is the same way emotionally.
Well, what about normal people?
Oh, there's no such thing as normal. There is such a thing as healthy though. The thing that distinguishes the healthy from the not so healthy? Healthy people acknowledge their junk and resolve not to let it control them.
Ohhhh...okay, that makes sense. People can have junk and not only survive, but thrive. And the thing that separates the survivors from the thrivers is Good Emotional Waste Management. Yeah.
I think I tend to treat emotional waste management like the way I clean. In my house, I love the appearance of order, and the only way I know how to achieve that is by shoving everything into the closets and underneath the beds. As I said, it is an appearance of order.
So if coping vs. good waste management is like sweeping dirt under the carpet vs. sweeping it into a dustpan and disposing of it properly, I am an emotional "sweep under the carpet" type.
No, I am a "sweep so much emotional junk under the carpet that it forms a very large mound, and then I have to spend an inordinate amount of time standing on the mound holding a large handwritten sign that says ~ Please ignore the large mound under my feet. I am fine. Really.~, type. All I need is a tin can with a few dollar bills in it and I am good to go.
The problem with my master plan of coping? When I say I am fine, I am a big fat liar. I am not fine. I am anything but fine. And, I suffer from the delusional idea that if I say I am fine enough times, not only will I convince every passerby that stops to gawk at me standing on my carpeted mound that I am fine, but I will also convince myself. It never works though. Because no matter how many times I say it, I am not fine.
What do I sweep under the rug? Hurt, sadness, vulnerability, needs, fears, feelings.
And so, there I be, standing on my carpeted mound of emotional junk with my sign, telling people I am okay...that I don't need anything...that I am an emotional island......
I am an emotional island with a large pile of rocks at my feet. And every once in a while, I throw a rock through a window, or at a passerby, in order to relieve some of the strain of trying to contain that mound. And if that doesn't work, I start to throw boulders.
Coping really is "just surviving". And I think Good Management is more than "surviving"....it is "thriving". I have always been a "coper", but I want more. I am not content just to survive..... I want to thrive. I really do.
So what does this have to do with my rebellion?
It has to do with not being okay and sweeping stuff under rugs and throwing rocks. And it has to do with Professor noticing the largish mound under my feet and spying the rocks in my hand and knowing precisely what I was doing with them and why. And so he took the rocks away and in doing so, he showed me something very important. Hugely important.
Where does real begin and fantasy end? With the word, relationship.
When I need his attention, his help, his caring....when I need him to take the time to listen and just be there to tell me it will all be okay, it isn't about being dependent, or being independent for that matter. It is about me needing him because he cares for me and wants to protect me. It has nothing to do with being "too much trouble" or "needy", and everything to do with a girl who needs her Mentor simply because she just does.
When life gets tough....when things happen....I don't have to sweep it under the rug anymore. And I don't have to handle it alone. Because Professor is here. He is here to pluck me out of my jungle....to weather the storm with me. To,in his words, "help me get through it".
Now I just have to let him in.