Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Confessions

The good folks of Strictly Spanking (the same people who bring us the wonderful SSNY parties and the Boardwalk Badness Weekend) recently started their own line of videos, Strictly Spanking Videos. They have a simple and unique premise; nothing to do with roleplays or fantasies. Real women come to them with real confessions — things they’ve done, recently or way in the past, personality traits with which they struggle, bad habits they’ve formed, etc., and confess these to Mike Tanner, who then strictly but compassionately punishes them as he deems fit, so they can release their guilt. The scenes are intense and there are usually tears.

I admire the women who have come forth so far to do this, including the beautiful Pixie and Leia Ann Woods. It takes a lot of courage… and I couldn’t do it.

Not because I couldn’t take the spanking. But the issue that causes me shame, invades my thoughts on a daily basis, is not one I would want to capture on film for all posterity. I’d be showcasing the worst of myself for all to see and I’d be ashamed, not cleansed. For I don’t know if even the worst thrashing would change how I feel.

But this is my blog, and I have always said I am honest here. I may focus a lot on spanking, but I’m also a flawed human and you get to see those flaws here. So I’m going to admit something to all who read, and if you think less of me, I’m truly sorry. Christ, my heart is pounding.

I haven’t spoken to my mother in over two months, and I have not seen her in longer than that. The last time I spoke to her was New Year’s Eve — that was the time she asked me how my brother was, and my brother has been dead since 1972. Something snapped in me that night.

As you know, my mother has not been well for several years now. We went through some godawful times with her before finally putting her in an assisted care facility — she was hostile and violent, bitterly nasty and delusional. She said horrible things to me and to my stepfather. Once she was in the facility and they finally got her on the right meds (it took a long time), she calmed down, became rather docile and my stepdad was able to take her home on weekends, take her out to dinner and movies, etc. John and I would go visit them every few weeks on a Saturday, hang out with them, have dinner.

I hated these visits. Granted, my mother was pleasant and sweet. But I couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Conversations were painful, as she’d repeat the same things over and over. She had no short-term memory and she couldn’t remember from one minute to the next what she’d just said, so she’d say it again. She’d ask me questions about myself that she’d known the answer to for years. She was frail and feeble, slow and clumsy, and her arms and legs were always covered with horrible bruises from her falling. The trip there was a hassle with the traffic (about a 65-mile drive from John’s), their house always had heat blasting no matter how warm it was outside (because oftentimes old people are always cold), and we’d often end the night with me in tears on the way home and John with a migraine from the stress and discomfort of it. But we did it, because it was the least we could do.

Then John fell ill and came close to dying, and everything changed.

All my worry and capacity to care shifted over to him. What energy I had for nurturing and caring was spent on him. I am not the most giving person there is, as we all know. I’m a loner and an isolator in many ways and I don’t make a good caretaker; I’m too self-centered. But whatever I could do, I did for John. And now, even though he’s better, I know the future holds more difficulty for him, for both of us. He will need open-heart surgery. Sometime. I don’t know when. So that hangs over my head like a specter.

My mother is 89 years old. Her life has zero quality, although the quantity stretches on and on. It has no dignity — she is incontinent at both ends and my stepdad has to pay extra for staff to keep her cleaned up. And when she visits him, he does it. He’s 93 years old this month. It’s a travesty that this is how they both have to spend their remaining days. And it scares the living shit out of me, plainly speaking.

I don’t want to grow old. My independence and dignity mean more to me than all else, and the way my mother’s life is now is unacceptable. I look at her, listen to her, and I am revolted and terrified. And I can’t find it in me to get past that and reach out to her. I don’t have the energy or the will.

I have not heard from my stepdad; no doubt he’s quite disgusted with me. Every day when I wake up, my first thought is “Call your mother.” And I swear that I will. But I come to the end of the day and I haven’t, and do a Scarlett O’Hara — “I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

Sometimes I rationalize. My own shrink told me it was OK if I couldn’t handle talking to/seeing my mother. That she wouldn’t remember anyway, and the person I once knew was already gone. My stepdad, in a poignant moment, once said to me, “I can’t really blame you, Erica. She wasn’t much of a mother to you to begin with.” Which is true. Perhaps I’d feel more loyalty and tolerance toward her if we’d had a better relationship. But now, I should be the grownup. I want to be, and yet I can’t.

So I deny, I bury my head, I let the days go by. And each day makes me feel more ashamed. There it is — I’m a crap daughter. Ironically, I’ve made my own mother’s indictments come true. She often told me in younger days what a disappointment I was to her.

All right. Before I delete this whole @#$%ing thing, I should hit Publish. I still may delete it. I may come to my senses later and wonder why I exposed such a raw nerve here. But I guess, for this moment, I need to.

Have a good weekend, y’all.

Single Post Navigation

22 thoughts on “Confessions

  1. OMG my Erica i am so VERY sorry 😦 when i read this tears came to my eyes i really feel for you, my birth mother didn't want me since birth and my foster mom ditched me 7 months ago, no one should ever have to feel that kind of pain. it really hurts and messes with the mind. you are a WONDERFUL daughter it's NOT your fault. you are NOT a disappointment. look what you become a famous spanking actress and i am VERY PROUD to call you my friend i look up to you. you know i am ALWAYS here for you if you need me for anything 🙂 i think i should confess my naughty behavior to mike tanner i have needed a spanking for a VERY long time. I LOVE YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOUR IMPORTANT AND THAT YOU DO MATTER. BIG HUGS from your naughty girl Jade XOXO

    Like

  2. EricaIt rather does seem that we both are having blue days. For the record I do not think that you are a crap daughter – the love is there, so overwhelmingly there, but like everbody else, you are only human.After my son's sudden death, for the first two years, all I could remember, was his face, when one day, after I was irritated and tired, asking me why I am always fighting with him. All I could think of was that he was given to me for fourteen years…and why was I such a crap mother? Maybe, that was why he was taken away.. It is a couple of years down the line, and I realised that in my sorrow, my inability to cope I was looking for a scapegoat to blame the horror of the situation on. Not finding anyone or anything, I only had myself left.You do know deep down what is the right thing for YOU to do, and I know that you are one very brave woman that will do it.I had to forgive myself for a moment that maybe lasted no more than three minutes, and realise that the rest of the time with him, was precious, special – and that I should treasure that.You are in my heart tonight.Lots and lots of hugsRaven

    Like

  3. I just wanna say… I ♥ you… We are only human. ONLY HUMAN. How we cope with all we do – amazes me…((hugs))Z

    Like

  4. Erica,Your post brought tears to my eyes because I see so much of myself in you.I’m so terribly sorry to hear about your mother’s deteriorating condition and your utter sense of helplessness and fear. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you’re feeling.The conflict you face is one we all bear: we have a desire to help and to be a good child to our parents, but then there’s the ungodly burden of nasty feelings, old hurts, missed opportunities, and a painful existence for our mother or father that is without dignity or meaning. We were never meant to face such hardships alone; we were never meant to carry the sickness of a family member as Florence Nightingale might without giving a single thought to our own happiness or to our own needs. We may find peace in knowing that we cannot cure the sick, make the lame walk, or raise the dead. We are simply people, and as such, all we can expect of ourselves is to be willing to experience our reality in an authentic way and to convey that authenticity to others in whatever manner is appropriate within our range of abilities. Whatever you can give your mother now is perhaps the best possible action available. While being simply who you are may not fit the role of a martyr or saint, I feel no one is expecting you to assume either role in this situation.Bearing witness to the slow demise of a family member is, perhaps, one of the most difficult experiences we will ever face in our lives. There is no right way to lend support; there is no correct formula for easing the suffering of another. Our work is made much more difficult if we also experience a divided mind about our role and the extent to which we are expected to create miracles. In the end, the best we can do is to accept our limitations and present ourselves to the difficult task of rendering aid any way we can and to judge not the outcome of our efforts or ridicule what we believe to be our many faults.

    Like

  5. Jade — you're very sweet. 🙂 My mother would be proud of me if I did things with my life that she could brag about to her friends. Unfortunately, being a spanking actress, famous or not, isn't one of those things! LOLRaven — as you are in mine. I wish all of us in the Blogging Sisterhood could teleport ourselves to you.Zelle — I heart you too, my friend. I don't know how to make that damned emoticon.AP — very kind and wise words, and I thank you for taking the time to write them to me.

    Like

  6. I have been there. My Mother had ALZ. I took care of her as best I could until it became 24×7.Your guilt has overpowered logic. "My own shrink told me it was OK if I couldn't handle talking to/seeing my mother. That she wouldn't remember anyway, and the person I once knew was already gone". You know that is true. Yet…I found help in support groups, talking with others going through the same thing.At this stage, you can not do anything for her. You must take care of yourself.

    Like

  7. Erica, I can relate completely to what you said. I too struggle with "m" issues (I can't write that word.) It really hurts never to have been nurtured. Don't do the guilt thing. I know it's hard, but give up guilt. It is perfectly okay to divorce yourself from a hurtful family member. You need to take care of yourself and John. Your instincts are correct. John is your main focus now. I'm glad you posted this. I have been toying with writing something similar but didn't have the guts.Hugs,Hermione

    Like

  8. Erica,I can relate. There is something to think about and I am dealing with the same issue: false guilt. It can hit us pretty hard when we think of all the things we "should" do or "should have done" when maybe we actually don't need to go there. You have already done what you have been able to do and that is GOOD ENOUGH!!! You are a worthwhile person and we all want you to take care of yourself. I think it was very brave of you to share this because you trust us. We all care for you. I care a great deal for you and I want you to be happy. I hope your weekend with John is a good one for both of you.BTW, remember, NG is reading. 🙂

    Like

  9. Erica, I can relate, I had mother issues which I wont go into. I know easier said than done but don't go down the guilt road, your only human and have a life yourself. Thank you for sharing this with us.Hugs to you,Ronniexx

    Like

  10. OBB — you did take care of her, and that was very brave and giving. Not something I'm willing to do, at any stage. But I am who I am, and I can only do so much.Hermione — thank you. My relationship with my mother is extremely complex. Thing is… she's not a bad person. She just never had any business being a parent. Neither did my father, for that matter. Sadly, you don't need to pass any tests before taking on the biggest responsibility of your life.Bobbie Jo — thanks for the support. I put it out there because I felt like I needed to… it was weighing heavily on me.Ronnie — so many people with parent issues… I'm sorry. Thanks for your kind words.

    Like

  11. Needing survival skills to cope with parents' abuse, cruelty towards us doesn't always make us warm and fuzzy like we're supposed to "respect our elders" or take care of them as they (begrudgingly have done for us in some cases). Cut yourself a break here. You can't heal her and she is at least medically cared for as needed. About 16 years ago, I mourned the loss of my own mother's deteriorating mental health condition. She spent several of my late teen mid 20's in and out of mental hospitals to no avail. She recently sent me a "Thinking of You" card and I did not reply. Very scary and violent behavior is what I remember her most and have NO desire to revisit that scene ever again.

    Like

  12. Erica,I think you see that you are not alone. We are here for you and it is ok that you are not the type to do personal care. I'm not either. I did do some relief work for two ladies that had CP for a while when I was younger, but now I could not do that at all.I also think you probably have helped some others with their issues along these lines, too. I have found we never know just how far reaching our influence can be and having the courage to post is commendable. I hope it has helped to get it down on "paper" so to speak and get some support for yourself. You are worth it!

    Like

  13. Quit beating your self up over this. Now that your Mom is no longer to hang her guilt on you, you're doing it too yourself. Give yourself a break. By your own admission even your Step father understands. There is nothing you can do for her but there IS things you can do for John. Sounds like your priorities are correct to me.But maybe if you can not call her, you could instead call your Step dad, That might help ease your burden.In the end I have come to realize no one can carry everyones burden. We are but one person and can carry just so much of a load on our shoulders. Sounds to me you have made the correct choices. Its time to let go of the guilt your Mom has burdened you with.

    Like

  14. Erica, please don't feel bad. As you will see from the above comments, some of us gave been there and have the same guilt. My Dad is heading down the same boat, and I hate it every time I'm there and he isn't!Hugs, ddx

    Like

  15. Erica, I wish I could physically hug you. You need to decide: is it better for your emotional well-being to cut all contact with your mother? If it is, then let go of the guilt; know that you've made the right decision for you. Stick with it and stop beating yourself up over it.It's not selfishness, it's self-preservation.Big hugs again,Pink

    Like

  16. Kelly — ugh. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Mental illness comes with its own type of anguish; you know the victims can't help it, but it doesn't help knowing that when they wreak such havoc on your life. Bobbie Jo — I hope so… I figure there are quiet ones who may be judging, but I cannot focus on them.Poppa — honestly, I don't know what kind of caretaker I could be for John, either. But I'll deal with that as it happens. Thank you for being so kind.dd — thank you. I'm sorry about your dad.Pink — society is very quick to hurl around the "s" words (selfish, self-centered). I like to think of it as self-preservation as well, most of the time. Every now and then, though, I falter, you know?

    Like

  17. I read this post, and so much of it applies to my mother.A warm loving caring woman, who suddenly started nagging my Dad non-stop in the last year of his 90 yr life (prostate cancer). We didn't realise it but it was the beginnings of the dementia she dreaded (her forbears all lived into their late nineties and suffered from severe dementia in their late years).Well now she lives in a delightful care home with her every need looked after, but has absolutely no quality of life.I had a heart attack quite young and it gives me great comfort that I'm unlikely to follow in her footsteps-as long as I don't have a stroke.

    Like

  18. jimisim — I believe life should be about quality, not quantity. I hope someday society adopts that view as well. I'm sorry about your mother.

    Like

  19. Erica:There's nothing to be ashamed of. We deal with as much as we can deal with. Period. There's no rule book on what we can deal with and how well we can deal with it. We do what we can and we can push ourselves to do more, but only if it's not going to be detrimental to our health.C

    Like

  20. Craig — thank you. I know you're right. When I listen to societal judgment over my own voice, that's when I get off track.

    Like

  21. I feel so bad for you.I know what you're going through.I didn't know about John needing surgery,but I knew about his illness.He's your mate and he needs you.You can't be everywhere at once.A couple of years ago my mother battled breast cancer.I live about 750 miles from her,my father in-law was battling non hodgkins lymphoma and my mother in-law was in the same state as your mom.I hated that my mom was so far away,I felt like a terrible son being down here helping my in-laws.I did finally get to go up and be with her for the las 5 days of her treatment.She's doing much better now and we usually get to talk on the phone every week.But it's not your fault and you have nothing to feel guilty about.You can't beat yourself up.You have to stay healthy for both of them.And your mom is being taken care of,and you are thinking of her everyday….that's more than millions of moms are getting from daughters that live under their own roofs

    Like

  22. BG — thanks. Distance is another complicating factor in these situations. You did the best you could with your mother and I'm sure she appreciated the visit.

    Like

Talk to me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: