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.

Back, sort of

So, yeah. Two and a half weeks ago, I went dark. Life’s stresses had piled up and knocked me out of balance, and the final straw was when Steve went for a job interview in Santa Barbara, a hundred miles away. In my fragile mind state, I instantly projected that he was going to take the job (because the man has to work), move away, and that would be the end of our times together. I went deep into my inner bomb shelter and stayed there, only surfacing to function as needed. Because no matter how bad I feel, I still function.

I stopped blogging, and I temporarily deactivated my FetLife profile. I couldn’t stand all the BS there, all the bickering and back-biting, the comparisons of parties, the consent police, the pontificating of the know-it-alls, the insensitivity and unkindness, the misguided worship. I worked. I tweeted some, but not much. I didn’t tell Steve what I was thinking/feeling. The only person I talked to was John, because he wouldn’t let me withdraw from him. He was very sweet, sending me little email messages every day, trying to cheer me up. He was the only one who could make me laugh.

The longer I stayed withdrawn, the more I was convinced that it didn’t matter. People’s lives went on and I was a blip on the radar. In the overall scheme of things, we are all microscopic bits, destined for oblivion and being forgotten. Such is the insidious nature of depression… it fills one’s head with the worst of lies, the cruelest beliefs.

A week ago Tuesday, Steve came over, and we talked about his finding work. He told me he didn’t want to move away, and that somehow, he would find something in the Los Angeles area, even if he had to take a job at Costco. That I was not going to lose him. That I could be sad and depressed and scared about anything else, but this was one thing I did not have to fret over. We’re going on four years, and he’s not going anywhere.

We didn’t play. All I did was cry while he held me.

Another week passed. I functioned.

Then last Tuesday, Steve was here again. We talked for a long time, and then decided to play. It had been three weeks, and I’ve had this ongoing sciatica business, so I was a little concerned. But once we got into it, I felt myself start to shift, to get into it. To feel. He lectured me while he spanked. “Do you know that you have people who love you?” I wanted to say “no,” but 1. I knew that wasn’t true, and 2. I knew he’d spank a whole lot harder if I did. “Yes, you do, and don’t forget it.” My thighs got a little attention too.

I thought I might cry. But no tears came.

We moved into the bedroom and he collected some implements. What followed took me to the very edge of my limits. He deliberately hit the same spots over and over until I thought I’d go through the ceiling. By the end, I was writhing, struggling to stay still, pleading, “Steve, please. Please. Please.”

But I still didn’t cry.

He took some pictures, and then got me some ice packs, which felt wonderful. But I still hadn’t achieved that emotional release. Perhaps I was simply cried out, after the past couple of weeks.

After a while of coming down, Steve asked, “Do you need your toy?” Translation: do I need to get off with my vibrator. At first, I thought no. My libido hibernates during depression. But then I thought, eh, why not. Couldn’t hurt, right? Besides, he likes to watch me do it.

I guess I needed it more than I knew, because the first orgasm happened very quickly. But then I kept going. Steve, watching me, said, “You have another one in you, don’t you.” He can tell, just by looking at me, by reading my body.

Then it happened. The second wave rose, but along with it, I felt a tidal wave of grief. The two sensations crested, peaked and intertwined until I couldn’t tell one from the other. I snatched a nearby pillow, shoved it over my face, and screamed. And as the waves kept crashing, I bawled. I hollered. Tears poured. I guess I wasn’t cried out after all.

Somewhere in the emotional haze, I could hear Steve. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Let it all out, give it to me. I’m here. I’ve got you.” I clung to him like a life raft in churning water next to a sinking ship, my eyes shut, my mouth open. I cried, and cried, and cried. And it wasn’t pretty or sexy. It was red-faced and noisy and drippy and mascara-smeared.

It went on and on. Every time I’d start to wind down, he’d say something like, “Do you know I care for you? Do you know that I want to protect you?” and I’d start up again.

He kept saying “Thank you” to me. I was too far gone to ask, “What for? I didn’t do anything.” He was the one who needed thanking, for being here, for providing a safe haven for my anguished release. But I knew what he meant. He was thanking me for my trust in him. For giving him my deepest vulnerability. Only two people in my life can see me come apart to this degree: Steve and John.

Later, after I’d finally calmed: “How are you feeling?” “Drained,” I replied. I was so tired. My eyes were swollen and scratchy. But I felt cleaner, clearer. I knew I was on my way out of this latest visit to the abyss.

Anyway. It’s Friday. The problems and worries haven’t gone away. I’m still feeling kind of sad and tired. But that awful blackness has receded.

I’m on the fence about reactivating to FetLife. It’s kind of nice taking a break from it. Steve gave me the password to his account, so I logged in under his name to see what was going on. Same old, same old. I did notice that dear, sweet Joe had posted a status about how he missed me and wished I’d come back. He’d also texted me after I disappeared, which did my heart good. At least someone noticed, I thought. I looked to see if anyone had commented to his status… yeah. Two people. (sigh) So no, I’m in no hurry to return.

But of course, despite the emotional excess, there must be pictures. You’ve slogged through all this touchy-feely stuff, so here’s the fun part. I’m posting this one so you can see my most excellent socks (and Steve’s feet):

DCIM100GOPROGOPR9978.

 

And here I am with ice packs “strapped on” by my underwear:

DCIM100GOPROGOPR9992.

 

Again, for all those who commented and dropped me private messages, thank you. I appreciated it, even though I was non-reactive.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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29 thoughts on “Back, sort of

  1. Anonymous on said:

    And most excellent socks they are too!. Just let a bit more sunshine in and don’t forget that John & Steve love you as well
    Downunder Don

    Like

  2. Lame though this sounds, and admittedly it sounds VERY lame, I thought of you often over the past 2 weeks. Oh, how I now wish that I had gotten in touch to let you know you were in my thoughts and that you matter to me. I missed you. And I liked reading about the touchy-feeling stuff. It lets us see the real Erica in a way that the cutest of photographs simply cannot do.

    Like

  3. “he wouldn’t let me withdraw from him. ” Ain’t that beautiful?
    And then the loving care from Steve.
    You don’t deserve these depressions. But you do deserve the love from these men. I know you know.

    Like

  4. Don — you can’t see in the picture, but the socks have “Love Me Do” and “The Beatles” on them.

    Pam — you read the post, and you commented on it. Don’t sell that short. Not to mention that you’ve been dealing with your own challenges.

    MrJ — that’s very sweet. Thank you.

    Like

  5. anonymous on said:

    I’m glad to see you resurface publicly on here where it matters most. I left Fetlife ??? awhile ago and have never regretted that. When part of it I dabbled in a crowd forum and all along had feelings of dissent and there was soooo MUCH conduct I disagreed with.
    I’m happy you have John as your rock. That’s a solid relationship where you two have no doubts you can count on each other for extra support as needed along with your fun times.

    Like

  6. “Back, sort of” is a good start. I missed you and I hope things continue to get better.

    bklynny0856

    Like

  7. WelshPixy on said:

    So sad and quiet when you were gone and just unreasonably delighted to see you back here. To then see you loved and cherished (and no surprise either!) is a bonus. Please stay with us here; some of us only read one blog, and yours is it!

    Like

  8. Anonymous on said:

    Welcome back. It’s odd how much better I feel better now that you have shed the worst of the darkness. How is it that I can feel so bad for someone I’ve never met?

    I now have a severe case of “sock envy”.

    Anon E. Mouse

    Like

  9. sweetsong1 on said:

    What a powerful description of what it’s like to fall into the abyss of depression, exist miserably in the darkness at the bottom then climb painfully out of it again. And Steve said exactly the right thing; that ‘blip on the radar’ is actually a deeply loved and dearly valued presence in many people’s lives – more than you might think. Welcome back to the light, dear Erica, and if you ever experience the darkness again, just remind yourself of Steve’s wise words – and his tender ministrations on your delicious backside. 🙂

    Like

  10. Anonymous on said:

    Depression and anxiety are so debilitating. I am happy to see that you, with Steves loving help, have beat it back in a sort-of way. Hang in there, dearie. So many hugs. 🙂

    Like

  11. A. — I don’t think I’ll ever fully leave Fet, because then I’d lose years and years of comments and messages and so forth. But staying away has been a nice break.

    Bklynny — thanks, I hope so too.

    WelshPixy — I’m honored!

    Mouse — because you’re an empathetic person.

    sweetsong — you are sweet indeed.

    Anonymous — I welcome those hugs!

    Like

  12. poppamark on said:

    When depression hits me there is no logic to it. I can not rationalize myself out of the funk. So far it passes and I often function to the point people have no idea how dark it is for me. But like you I have people who love me. The darkness is part of me but not all of me. It is not who I am. It is a temporary detour on life’s journey and I always find my way back. But it sure is not fun!

    Like

  13. Erica, like yourself, the BREAD and BUTTER issues come first. That means both of you must have INCOMES to survive in this world of yours. So that must always come first. Our fetishes whatever they are comes second. Yes, you may not agree with me. But listen to Papa. A secure income in life, is more important than any of our fetishes. Both of you must have STEADY and SECURE JOBS, to survive .

    Like

  14. Erica, you have to do what is best for you and if that means stop blogging so be it, just remember you have LOTS of people that worry and love you….

    Now on a lighter point I adore the picture of the ice packs…

    Remember, take care of yourself…

    Like

  15. Poppa — you are correct on all counts. It passes, it’s not all there is, and it’s not fun.

    Six — I agree that work is important. Fetish fun doesn’t pay the bills.

    wthwing — I will blog as long as I feel like I have something relevant to say and that people want to hear it. When that’s done, then I am as well.

    Like

  16. Yorkie69 on said:

    Thank goodness you’re back. Nice to hear that you’ve given that black dog the middle finger again. Ain’t it a bitch?

    Like

  17. Mark on said:

    “And it wasn’t pretty or sexy. It was red-faced and noisy and drippy and mascara-smeared.”

    When you love someone, that is every bit as good as pretty or sexy. It makes you feel protective and needed. That is some of the best manly-feeling-stuff there is.

    Like

  18. Yorkie — yes, it @#$%ing well is.

    Mark — I like that perspective. I have known men who are put off and even mildly disgusted by tears and emotions (fortunately, not in recent years).

    Like

  19. Thank you for sharing Erica. Depression sucks on every level 😦 I’m glad that you are on your way out of the pit again. Keep heading for that right place in the sun.

    Like

  20. CS — I will try, promise.

    Like

  21. Elizabeth Jane on said:

    Welcome back and glad you’re feeling better. The ice pack pic is too cute.

    Like

  22. EJ — thanks. 🙂

    Like

  23. Jade Mathias on said:

    Hi Erica ♡ I am so happy and glad that you are back 🙂 I am also happy that Steve is not moving 🙂 What a wonderful Top he is we all should have Tops as awesome as he is 😉 I Love you’re pics they are Lovely as always and the one with the ice packs are so adorable 💖 🙂 Much Love and hugs always from naughty girl Jade / Emily Jean xxxxx ♡

    Like

  24. Jade — he’s a good man.

    Like

  25. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK HONEY WE’RE ALL ROOTIN FOR YOU ERICA AND FOR GOD SAKES QUIT FETLIFE…. YOU DON’T NEED THE B/S …. LOVE YA MIKE

    Like

  26. Michael — thank you. I admit that the break has been a bit of a relief. But I’m not sure I want to quit entirely.

    Like

  27. Thom Gil on said:

    Erica – if you are not taking anti-depressants, you should.

    I can’t tell you what a difference they made in my life.

    They are not happy pills, but they will help you deal with the highs and lows.

    Please – for your own sake, look into this.

    You’ve brought so much joy into other people’s lives, and you deserve to feel it too!

    Lots of people love you, and you can’t let depression rob you of that.

    Like

  28. Thom — thank you for caring. I’ve actually been on antidepressants for over 20 years. My depressions were much, much worse before them. I used to take to my bed for days on end and not function. Now, I suit up, show up, eat, drink, breathe, work, do everything I’m supposed to. It still sucks being a depressive, but even my worst days now are much better than they used to be.

    Like

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