About a week and a half ago, Tom and I had a rough few
days.
As I mentioned the other day on the blog, I had been
working for quite some time on a project for my job. The project had been significantly stressing
the both of us out for reasons that I cannot really get into. The piece that is relevant for this story is
that the project left me feeling considerable guilt and anxiety. The psychology of it was complicated.
On the day that this mini-fiasco began, Tom had had a
trying day at work himself. I came home from work feeling exhausted and guilty. A constant litany of self-critical thoughts
had been swirling through my mind for several days before this.
So, we were talking in our bedroom and Tom was
upset. I asked him what I could do to
help. He first stated that he didn’t
think that there was anything that I could do.
Then, he asked me a question about my work project. I explained to him why I could not yet answer
the question, but it irritated me that he asked and it put me on the defensive.
He needed to leave to take one of our children
somewhere. He asked me where one of the
kids’ belongings were, as it apparently wasn’t where I had thought it was. At that point, I sort of lost it. I stormed out of the bedroom and started
looking for the missing item. At one
point in the process of my angrily looking around, Tom happened to be standing
in my path.
“Get out of my way,” I stated flatly. He probably gave me an angry look at that
point. I frankly wasn’t even looking at
him. I was just annoyed that I was being
asked to find this stupid lost item.
I can’t remember if it was before he left with our
child or after he came home, but he summoned me into the bedroom and read me
the riot act about how disrespectful I had been. He was doing the absolute “right” thing. He has never scolded me for disrespect (not
that it happens super often) and this is the exact sort of situation for which we
agreed to put DD into place.
So, naturally, how did I respond? “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.” Then, I turned on my heel and walked out. *facepalm*
In hindsight, he should have hauled me into our master
bathroom, turned on the fan so the kids wouldn’t hear, and given me a good hard
swat or several on my bottom right then and there. I would like to believe that that would have
gotten my attention and settled me down.
That is not a certainty, though. I
also want to be clear that I do not mean this as any sort of criticism of Tom. It was an emotionally complicated situation and
I don’t fault him for how he responded. So,
I walked out of the room after issuing my half-baked apology. We avoided each other for a while after
that.
I hate it when we fight, which fortunately, isn’t
often. When we fight, all I generally
want to do is talk it through and resolve it as quickly as possible. Tom doesn’t always work that way. He tends to need some space to calm down. On my best days, I am able to tolerate that
and to leave him alone for a while.
This particular evening was not one of my best.
Shortly after Tom went downstairs to eat his dinner, I
followed him in order to try to talk. I
think I issued a more sincere apology at that point, but I was still worked
up. He tried at least twice to ask for
space. He suggested that we just drop
the topic of what had originally upset us both.
I couldn’t do it. I repeatedly
interrupted him and kept pressing for resolution. So, the conversation escalated again and he
stormed back into our bedroom.
Then, I really lost it. I basically threw a tantrum. I am too embarrassed to share the details of
what I proceeded to do. It wasn’t good and
certainly wasn’t appropriate. I may have thrown a few things. *cringe* In my anger, I grabbed my keys and
went to leave the house. Knowing what I
intended to do, Tom met up with me in the garage. My tantrum continued.
Again, he angrily confronted me.
He said something like, “Your behavior is unacceptable. You can’t turn DD off and on at will.”
Truthfully, I wasn’t intending to do that. At that moment, I half-hoped that he would
spank me then and there.
But our kids
were inside and the timing just was not conducive to that. After a few more tense words, he told me to “stop
my bloody tantrum” and went back inside, leaving me standing in the garage.
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| Like this. |
Having had some time to think about this whole
exchange, I now realize that I feel abandoned when he leaves the scene when we’re
both angry and upset. Rationally, I know
that he had several good reasons to go back inside when he did. Emotionally, however, I just could not deal
with it. Cue more tantrum and at that
point, I got into my car and angrily sped off.
Obviously, while I was out (and without my phone), Tom
was worried. So was one of the children. Honestly, I wanted Tom to be worried and I
was too engulfed in pent up emotion about my work project and that evening’s
drama to consider anything else (like my poor child’s feelings).
When I came home about half an hour later, Tom was in
bed. I asked him if we could talk and after
a few tense words, we did. During the
conversation, he scolded me harshly for having lost my temper and for acting so
irresponsibly. He stated that he had
thought I had gotten over such behavior years ago. He also explained that I had filtered my
entire experience of the evening through the guilt I was feeling about my work
project. He informed me that that I hadn’t
been listening to a word he said all evening, as apparently he had tried a few
times to explain where he was coming from.
That conversation culminated in my sobbing uncontrollably in the shower. (Please understand how rarely this kind of thing
happens. I’m not a nutcase. Honest.)
Tom stayed with me until I calmed down, I repeatedly apologized for
everything, and we went to sleep.
I felt horrible for the entire next day. While I was at work, I sent Tom a text.
Princess: Are you still my Daddy?
Tom: I’m still your daddy. Daddies never stop loving their little girls.
(Yeah, we have a bit of Daddy-Dom/little girl in our
dynamic. That’s a post for another
time).
It was a perfect response – exactly what I wanted to
hear. Yet, I still didn’t feel better. In fact, I cried intermittently throughout
the next two days. I felt such total
disappointment in myself.
I apologized to Tom repeatedly over the course of that
evening and the next day. Although he
was still upset, he was not holding a grudge.
He told me that he forgave me and that I didn’t need to continue to
apologize. I asked him if we should just
stop doing DD. I felt undeserving of
it. Here I had been, acting like the
world’s worst wife ever and yet, I had asked all of the DD stuff from him. I cannot overstate how horrible I felt about
myself and about “everything.” He calmly
told me that we were not going to stop DD.
I don’t remember what else he said right then, but the “take home
message” was that I would be getting a “bad girl spanking” the next evening. Of course, I was not surprised at all to hear
that. Part of me welcomed it. I had hopes that I could let go of my guilt
after the spanking. Another part of me
feared it. I knew that this would be, by
far, the hardest and most authentic “punishment spanking” I had ever gotten
from him. I was nervous enough about it
that my stomach hurt for most of the next afternoon.
That evening after the kids went to bed, he came into
the bedroom and told me that it was time.
He ordered me to stand and bend over the bed. I did as he said. He pulled down my pants and started to
lecture me calmly.
I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but I
don’t. He said something like, “I don’t
want to have to do this to you, but you know our rules. You pretty much ran the gamut – disrespect, danger,
disobedience. You really leave me no choice.”
He picked up two of our implements: our Cracker Barrel
paddle and our DD paddle from the London Tanners. For
anyone not familiar, the Cracker Barrel paddle is a seven-ply wooden paddleball
paddle with the string and ball removed.
Back in the day, it was quite popular amongst our peers in the world of
TTWD. I don’t see it referenced at all
anymore. The London Tanners DD paddle is
our scariest implement. It hurts.
He started with the Cracker Barrel paddle and spanked
every inch of my bare bottom. He then
switched to the DD paddle. I didn’t
count how many swats he gave me, but I was whimpering and “ouch”-ing with each
one. Then, he returned to the Cracker
Barrel paddle and started paddling me in sets of three quick swats all in the
same place. My whimpers intensified
right along with the spanking. Finally,
he stopped and switched back to the DD paddle…
… and then, there was a knock on our bedroom door.
I mean, of course, right? Never before have we ever been overheard by one
of our children (who fortunately, just expressed concern that something had
fallen somewhere), so of course, it would happen that night.
When we heard the knock, I jumped up and ran into the
master bathroom behind a closed door.
Tom dealt with our child and sent her back to bed. Then, he came back into the bedroom, gave me
a long hug while we stood in the threshold of the bedroom, and that was that.
The ending that I want to write here is that then, I went
to bed happily and felt so, so much better.
That is not what happened. And this is where I need your help, dear
readers.
I sat down on our bed and stared into space for
several minutes. Tom sat at his computer
to play a game. He could tell that something
was wrong. He asked me to talk to him. I wanted to, but I honestly didn’t know what
to say or what I was even feeling.
Gradually, I realized that I felt disappointed. Then,
I felt guilty all over again for feeling disappointed. He had given me a legitimate punishment
spanking. It could not have been accurately
described as “wimpy” in any sort of way.
Despite that, there I sat with only a moderately sore, hot bottom. I wanted more. I wanted to be aching and acutely
uncomfortable. I also realized that the
interruption had significantly impacted my experience of the punishment. More disappointment.
As these realities set in, I started crying
again. Not only was I disappointed in
the experience, but I still felt profoundly disappointed in myself. I still felt like a “bad girl.” It sucked.
So, here are my questions:
- What thoughts do you have about why I felt so disappointed after the spanking? Do you think that it was primarily due to having been disrupted?
- With regard to how hard the spanking was, am I seeking a post-spanking sensation that is fictional? I mean, I have read in various places that the “so sore you can’t sit down” thing isn’t very realistic. Again, the spanking was hard and it did hurt. It was the hardest spanking Tom has ever given me. I don’t know how else to say it, though. Frankly, I wanted an extremely sore bottom -- a punished bottom that would acutely hurt for at least a few hours. Is that real? Is that a thing? If so, how is that achieved? (Of course, I know that everyone has different pain tolerances, etc.)
Eventually, I was able to tearfully share my thoughts
and feelings with Tom. I had figured out
what I needed right then and for the first time ever in our marriage, I just flat
out asked. I asked him to stay with me
and to stroke my hair while we laid in bed.
He did. It helped me to calm down
and go to sleep. I felt loved.
The next morning, I felt much better. I remained in better spirits for the entire
week. Was it because of the spanking? Was it because I didn’t have any more tears
to shed over the whole stupid situation?
Do I overthink these things? (Don’t answer that last question.) I have no idea… but I am very happy to have
that whole fiasco behind us!
