jinxed Posted 14 hours ago (edited) More than ten hours ago I started looking forward to your message. Something you had seen. Something you wanted to share with me. Something you thought would arouse me. Now that I'm wrapped in the cozy cocoon of my duvet and pillows, I am finally ready for it. The further I read, the fuzzier my perception gets. This feels wrong. You write about pitiless slaps in the face; tears that role down a cheek; unabated obedience. And they're back. All those images that for the last two years I've tried to finally come to terms with and maybe even forget. The palm of your hand hitting the side of my face, once, twice and with the third strike landing on my ear. The shock as I can't hear anything for a second. No apology. Not then, not later. Your knees pressing into my chest, your weight holding me in place, on my back, defenseless, my head at your mercy. But you show no mercy. The slaps turn into punches and they just won't stop. No matter how often I beg you to. Something I've never done before nor will ever do after this evening. You are in a frenzy. You want to break me, you want to see me cry. No apology. Not then, not later. This time I made sure to set up boundaries. Whenever slaps to the face were mentioned, I told you that I'm not sure I want this to be part of our play anymore. That we'd need to have a conversation about in a quiet moment. Instead, you throw this message at me. Without warning, without my consent. It creates a poisonous cocktail of emotions. Fe@r is thrashing about in a panic. Numbness tries to intervene by swathing it but is not powerful enough to smother p@ain's anguished screams. Until finally a rather ragged version of anger stumbles onto the stage, pulls a scuffed sword and half-heartedly utters complaints that go nowhere. Paralysed, I can only watch them perform their roles, experiencing each one fully and simultaneously. Eventually, I manage to step out of the vortex that had swallowed me up. As calmly as I can, I formulate my reply in which I declare that this was highly triggering for me, that your lack of attentiveness shocks me, that I don't feel safe if this is how you treat my boundaries. This time, there's an apology. Miscoloured by an excuse. You simply forgot. Then there's the offer to talk about it on the phone. My first reaction is to shut it all down. To run away from you, from the memories and from a potential encore. I let it rest, pushing away any thought that tries to surface. Then comes a realisation: Choosing to engage with you one more time is my way to learn how to stand up for myself. I have promised fe@r, p@ain, anger and numbness to look out for my body, my mind and my heart so they won't have to any longer. Running away equals defeat. Running away is the opposite of defending myself. And I'm done with looking out for myself by hiding. There's a chance, you're evil, ignorant, too self-centered to learn to respect my boundaries. But even then I can stop you from trespassing by growing taller and beginning to call the shots. Which I have long understood to be the only way to live out my submission while maintaining physical and emotional health. I will agree to the phone call. And I will prove that I am true to my word. Edited 14 hours ago by jinxed
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