polar extremes nov 13 2009 - 7.13 pm
sometimes this whole poly thing feels like a bipolar episode.
the swings from "my god, i am SO LUCKY" to "WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF?!!" happen with such intensity and force, with a rapidness that slams one against rock bottom. the change can happen within hours, as it has done today, spurned on by something that only took a second. it only takes a second, a sentence, a photo, a look, a mention, a thought, an image, an imagining for it to happen.
i think that i've actually been ignoring things. i thought that maybe i was "okay" with things. (never ok!, but "okay." one is enthusiastic, one is resigned.) it's the only explanation i have for why this hurt came so fast and furious and hit me so hard that i felt i had no choice but to hit myself. bite myself. hate myself.
i cried and cried silently in the bathroom, not wanting to let on that something inside me just broke. after a while, i couldn't handle it anymore, and sobbed into my hands. it was still far more quiet than i would have needed to be in order to feel any sense of release.
the punch helped with some of the release. it only took one when i realized that it would likely leave a mark, considering the fact that i have less fatty padding, more prominent bone. lo and behold, a fresh little bruise. something, something else to cover up before or if heading to that party my friend intends on us attending. slight red teeth marks on my hand. not as noticeable, for now.
i was thinking the other day about my foray into masochism, being hit and thumped and pushed and paddled and flogged. i thought about how i would be interested in exploring or at least experiencing it again, but the satisfaction comes as a direct result of beating bad feelings out of me. i don't think i could walk into it - and experience it - "sober", emotionally speaking. but would i intentionally provoke such feelings, feelings of hurt and stupidity and a desire for self-harm, in order to be pushed to my limits by someone else? i imagined what things might prompt such a reaction, and i imagined the situation. a bathhouse, say, standing in line for the dom, watching her make out with another person. it had to be a woman, for realism's sake, but the men have a sharper impact. the sting is piercing.
and i feel like i can't get rid of the sting, no matter how hard i try or how much i've "progressed". i often ask myself if i even want to, since it must reflect my limits, and me.
i don't know.
what i do know is that i'm stinging, and i know where to go to pick at the scab, over and over again, and i pray that i don't let myself do so. i might not make it home otherwise.last time***next time