70. What the Funk?

I’ve never gone this long without posting (more than two weeks!)

There is too much to cover to share all the various goings on during the last two weeks, so I’ll just share one particular item that was profound in my DD journey.

I’ve shared numerous stories of my ever-increasing need for deeper submission (a common backdrop since the beginning, but definitely a theme starting in 46. Reflections and 47 Birth of Dom.)  Well, I believe I found the limits of the submission I desire. 

I fell into a bit of funk and even my sexual appetite was low.  Part of me thought it was simply that I’ve had a year and a half of almost constant stimulation, amazing sex with Mike, amazing sex with John and Donna, and my body finally couldn’t produce any more “spark.”   But the feeling lingered far too long for my liking.  More concerning to me was that I was feeling less than fully satisfied with my acts of submission.  I still submitted, but, in some cases there just wasn’t the same joy in it.

It was also odd that this “funk” came on in an instant, not slowly over time.   It was quite odd to me, like in a flash – all of a sudden I was looking at my DD journey from the outside, as if I was looking back at someone else’s experiences.  I was feeling how some of it just seemed ridiculous to this “outside” me.  It gave me a moment of doubt that perhaps this journey should end.  That thought didn’t last long, but it shocked me that I had the thought at all.   Ultimately I came to the conclusion that, no, I thoroughly enjoy being submissive, but, I needed to back off on some of the things we have implemented.

It strange how we interpret changes in our life.  In the past when I wanted to change to submit more, it always made me feel good.  In no way did I think it indicated a failure in what we were doing.  So why is it that now I wanted to submit less,  it made me bad, like it indicated a failure in what we were doing?

I’ve concluded that this inconsistency in my perception of change is much like any journey.  In a new adventure there is wonderment, amazement and excitement, not just in the moment, but for where the moment might take you.  Once you have reached the end of the journey, instead of being excited that you have done so, you are saddened that the journey is over.  As far as submission goes, I do believe I exceeded the limits of what I want, so my seeking the “right” level of submission for me is at an end, at least for now.

Let me share how this came about and what exactly it is we are changing.  It will probably be very anti-climactic when I tell you what is changing, but for me it isn’t about the number or degree of changes, it is simply that any change, however slight, marked the end of the journey (for now).

Before I ever hit this funk Mike and I had talked about the likelihood this would happen someday.  We knew we would not recognize the level of submission that worked best for us until we exceeded the threshold of what made us the happiest.  So I told Mike that I believe I was beyond that threshold.

I told him all I wanted to change was the constant nudity during the day, and the “Device Days” we implement three days a week (discussed in Post 57).   I told him for whatever reason, those have come to bother me.  They didn’t at first, but somehow got to a point where they seemed unnecessary, punitive, and just uncomfortable and inconvenient.    That was all I wanted to change.

The surprising thing was Mike said no!

He said he is all for dialing down my submission, but, he wasn’t convinced that is what I truly wanted.  He knows me so well.  He knows anytime I get in any type of funk or have doubts creep in about anything, my first instinct is to start changing things – any things.  Even though I gave this a lot of thought, he knows that sometimes for me making any change is simply a distraction and not an actual solution.  Thus it might provide a temporary lift out of my funk and feel like progress, but soon the funk would return as it didn’t really address the issue.  He said, “Let’s give it one more week, as is, and then see how you feel.”

I really didn’t want to wait, as I felt pretty certain about my feelings.  The old Jenny would have persisted until I got my way, but, this submissiveness has grown on me.   I felt that if this is what Mike wanted, then I could do for one more week, and who knows, maybe he would be right.

Funny thing, I really enjoyed that week more than I had in some time.  The thought that in essence Mike was making me do this against my explicit wishes actually turned me on.   That feeling I got confirmed in me how much I like to submit to him.  However, as the week came to a close I knew I couldn’t maintain doing those things I mentioned. Ultimately Mike agreed and we made some changes.

No more “device days” as a routine, but they still could occur as punishment.  And, I would remain topless during the day but could wear panties – it was really an issue of comfort for me. I get that doing uncomfortable things is part of submission, but for whatever reason, those two things just crossed the line.  Yes, spanking me until I cry is fine.  Yes, making me stand in the corner is fine.  Yes, calling you Sir is fine.  Yes, sometimes making me too sore to sit is fine . . . . but just please let me have my panties on.

And like that, the funk was lifted.   We are in an incredible routine with my submission.  I feel great, Mike feels great, our son is thriving, Mike and I have plenty of adult time, and things couldn’t be better.

Perhaps now I’ll share some of the more salacious and kinky things that went on over the last few weeks.  Mike did go out-of-town on business, allowing me to go solo over to John and Donna’s!  Perhaps that will be my next post?

Next:  71. Good Girl.

2. The Backstory: Love life…every moment, every day.

I believe sharing the details of my story can enable you to find a path toward greater fulfillment and satisfaction in life, so you too can “love life, every moment, every day.” 

This “creed’ was instilled in me by my mother.  I’d like to say this came about because my mother was a strong, independent woman, but that would be a lie.  She grew up in a very misogynistic environment and my dad did not provide respite from the misogyny she knew as a girl.  Perhaps that is why it was so important to her that I would love life, every moment, every day.

She never told me exactly what the term meant.  She knew I needed to discover that for myself.  What it came to mean was that if there was an aspect about my life that I did not love, I, and I alone, was responsible for changing it.  No man, no drug, no other person.  Just me.   Thus, I, Jennifer, grew up a very self-empowered woman.

Yes, my name is Jennifer, Jenny to most, although my family calls me Sadie.  I can thank a cousin for that nickname.  That story isn’t important to my journey, but I mention it just in case I refer to myself as Sadie later on.  I often think of myself as Sadie in the context of recalling stories from my youth.

Anyway, back to my story.  Yes, I grew up very self-empowered and “with it.”  That self-empowerment led to me being the informal psychologist, coach, mentor, and confidant to many family and friends.  I was the one that “had it all together.”

Mike and I got married when I was 21, he was 22.  I admit I was the more dominant one and in aspects of our relationship I still feel I am, but as you’ll learn, that no longer applies in many ways.  I had it “all together” and “knew” how things should be so Mike pretty much learned to defer to me.  I know I frustrated him at times.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want his input, but, I was stuck on the fact the loving life meant things had to happen a certain way.  How can I honor my “creed” if I suppressed my hopes and desires?  Okay, so, I became selfish, but justified it because if I can’t be happy, then I can’t make others happy.  Basic psychology, right?

Then came kids.  I was a high school counselor (see, credentials to “prove” I could solve problems) but quickly put my career aside to be a stay at home mom (SAHM) after a short stint back at work after the birth of our second.  It was always my desire to focus on my kids without worrying about a regular job – that was loving life.  Mike accepted me as a SAHM although he would have preferred I return to work.  Being a SAHM was always my plan and I also justified it because my husband made an income that “I” felt we could live on and maintain the lifestyle that “I” wanted for my family.

So, three kids later (all sons).   The eldest is just wrapping up post-grad work and lives on his own.  My middle is out of the house and half-way through college.  My youngest is still at home and has special needs and will never be independent.  With all three kids I threw myself into maintaining my mantra, “Love life…every moment, every day.”

It worked well for many years, but then in the last few years morphed into a terrible thing.  I kept placing greater and greater demands on myself.  Maybe it was because of the needs of our youngest, but I became increasingly focused on controlling everything.  This meant trying to solve everything for everyone – not just my problems, my husbands, or kids, but my siblings, in-laws, nieces, nephews, and friends.  It grew to mean I must not only meet my needs, but meet everyone else’s, and even anticipate them and meet them before they even knew they had them.  Add in the extreme demands of a special needs child, and I was overloaded.

The overload showed.  I would “trick” myself to convince myself of my happiness, but those tricks were wearing off.  I was argumentative with my husband, I became moody and a slob.  My husband said I was like a storm leaving a mess in my wake wherever I went in the house.  Not only did I rarely clean anymore, but I was compounding the cleaning work for my husband.  Up until then I would say we split the chores adequately (I did most but he  did his share).  Household chores had never been a point of argument.  We had a system and it worked, until I started messing it up.

I became forgetful- constantly losing or misplacing things or even just forgetting what I was talking about.  I felt like too many thoughts at once were going on in my head. Maybe all that noise in my head also caused a distraction because I also became a klutz.  I dropped and cracked three cell phones in less than a year, I lost my car keys, my credit card, plus constantly losing things around the house.  I lost interest in keeping within a budget – if I wanted something, I got it on impulse.   I started staying up later and later to binge watch television, often until 2 a.m. Because of all of that, I wasn’t getting good rest.   Add to that the physically and emotionally demanding days of caring for our son (plus caring for everyone else’s needs) and 4-5 hours of sleep just won’t cut it.

Arguments with my husband increased – too many nights of silent treatment, yelling, or one of us storming off to sleep in the spare room.  Most of the arguments were of my own doing but you could not have convinced me of that at that time.  After all, I was “loving life!”   My husband was losing patience and I could feel he was becoming less and less loving, despite efforts to try and express his love.  He would tell me of the amazing job I was doing with our son and that picking up some extra household chores was a simple way to honor and respect what I was doing with our son.  (Did I tell you how wonderful Mike is?)  While I appreciated those words, I knew I was letting him down, and by letting him down, I was letting myself down.  This went on for about a year

I am someone in constant self-reflection and frankly, for a long time my self-reflection was dishonest.  My internal monologue was like this, “yep, I made the right decision, even if the outcome wasn’t what I thought it would be, so there isn’t anything I should change.”

Finally the breakthrough.  I realized I was not loving life, not for any moment, not any day, and I needed to change.   I was probably clinically depressed, but being who I am I felt I created the problem and I can fix it.  Once I had admitted to myself I had a problem, my mind kicked into overdrive on how I was going to correct it because I knew I could solve this problem.

Skipping over the details for a moment, suffice to say it all changed March 17, 2015.  Almost immediately on that date my life changed in wonderful, positive, and previously unimaginable ways.  I am truly loving life, every moment, every day.   And all without aide of anti-depressants!  My drug was Domestic Discipline (DD).

I am certain my specific path is not for you to take.  However, there are elements of my journey that I am convinced can help everyone.   My hope is that you will focus on the basic principles that are providing my love for life and don’t focus on my specific methods.

No two DD lifestyles are the same and some may say what I practice is an odd form of DD. You may not like my methods or ever do anything that remotely could be called DD.  But if you can suspend your judgement while reading my blog, perhaps, just maybe, you can come away with how you might apply some of the principles I use in a way that best suits you and your relationship.

So, how did my search to improve my life lead me to DD?
NEXT – 3. The Search.