I realize this blog hasn’t been the kinkiest thing in the world lately. In fact, in some cases, it’s been down right dreary. I’m working through some shit, and writing is the best way for me to do that. And since it’s my blog, I’ll cry if I want to. Or something.

Tuesday was, in a word, sucky. I was just be-bopping along, and suddenly I was slammed with this overwhelming feeling of worthlessness.

When it comes right down to it, there are physical reasons for this happening, but that’s little comfort when all you keep hearing in your head is “Why do you even exist? You don’t do anything good for anyone. Not even yourself. All you’ve ever done is ruin things.”

I spent some time in the bathroom, crying, telling the voices in my head to shut up, reminding myself that depression lies…

Finally, I got up, wiped my face, and…ripped apart the kitchen.

Master thought I was mad at him. The meltdown started in the middle of a conversation about me going back to school. (This is going to happen. I’ve chosen my major, and the path I’m taking. All there is to figure out now is the financial backing.) I was talking to him about the current state of higher sex education, and lamenting the fact that some of the paths I could take are out of my reach. The last thing we’d discussed was the fact that I am a slave, and there’s no way in hell I’m going back to being out of his reach for 12 hours days, which makes anything like sex counseling a silly thing to pursue. And when he asked me why I freaked out while looking at degree programs, I told him there’s no point in me putting us further in debt if I’m not going to be able to do anything with the degree I earn.

I mean, seriously, why would I do that? I deal with a shit ton of guilt over having to buy freakin’ tampons every month. It’s going to cost us at least $55,000 (over 5 years, and not including interest) for me to go back to school. Can you imagine the guilt if it didn’t get me anywhere? I’d probably ACTUALLY slit my wrists rather than just imagining it. Which I was doing Tuesday. With a ridiculous amount of clarity, as if I just stopped self-harming the day before, and was actually visualizing real cuts I’d already made.

Tuesday sucked hardcore, y’all.

When I finally managed to bring my brain around to sanely explaining what was actually going through my head, rather than just screaming whatever came to mind in response to whatever it was Master said, I was able to articulate why I was melting down. It was a pretty big deal because Master was able to understand that what I was dealing with wasn’t about him. It also gave him the opportunity to tell me my brain is a liar, and I don’t suck as bad as it wants me to believe.

Of course, a “normal” person doesn’t need this. They’re able to look at their accomplishments and failures and recognize that they have more of the former than the latter. So, naturally, there’s a lot of guilt over that.

He started almost immediately, but the first things that came out of his mouth (the first things that come out of anyone’s mouth when they realize someone’s teetering dangerously on the edge of being lost to the world) were banal platitudes. When that didn’t work, and because he’s an alpha male (and my owner), his thought process went to how my current state of mind was injuring him, until he realized his brute force, “you’re my slave, and I decide whether or not you’re worthless” approach was really only making things worse. (“See? All I do is make your life harder.”)

I needed validation. REAL validation. Someone pointing out to me all the reasons it’s okay for me to continue existing. Because I couldn’t see them. I have no concept, at all, of the good I do in the world. Not that I’m some great activist or humanitarian who should be reveled, but I do some good things.

I feel like shit for needing this, but I think it’s something we all need from time to time. Maybe not to keep from killing ourselves (which wasn’t quite where my mind was going…I was actually imagining myself just winking out of existence in the history of the world. Magics!), but definitely to feel like we’re worthy of the space we take up in the lives of the people we care about.

So, Master did an impromptu evaluation of how I’m performing at all the things I am to him. And because he’s a firm believer in being honest, he didn’t candy coat it. Of course there are things I could use improvement on. Mostly being proactive with sex-related slavey stuff, which has always been an issue. I’m always scared I’m gonna get in the way, or approach it at the wrong time, and get rejected. Rejection is, like, my biggest fear.

That’s kinda pathetic, huh? Ah well. It is what it is.

Then he asked me (paraphrasing at best), “Why do you need to make other people happy to feel okay with your life? Why isn’t making me or yourself happy enough to make you feel worth it?”

And I really and truly don’t know the answer to that. I mean, I do have a Christian upbringing, and I’m very civic minded. I was a Girl Scout for 12 freakin’ years, and I had more service bars than most of the girls in my troops. My mother still works for the Girl Scouts. My niece is a Girl Scout, and my sister’s a cookie mom. My dad was a cookie dad, and in the military. All of the men in my family except one (who was really upset about it and went to work for an Airforce contractor, I think, to make up for it…I found this out when Mom was up to visit) have served in the military, and many during war time. Service is just what we do. It’s always been what we do. So I guess it kinda makes sense that I’ve attached a good amount of my self-worth to what I’m putting into the world around me.

Then he said, “You only have to please me. You only have to exist for me. Fuck the rest of the world. You’re mine.”

You know how you know something, but then things happen, and it goes to the back of your mind because it doesn’t seem to make sense in your current situation, and then things happen again, and someone points it out to you, and you realize why it made sense in your last situation, and why it absolutely makes sense now, and you feel like an idiot? Yeah. That.

It doesn’t matter who I work for, or what I do all day, as long as I’m pleasing him. As long as my number one concern is his happiness.

I didn’t really forget that, so much as lose sight of it. Hearing him say it was like being given permission to believe it, but he wasn’t giving me permission. He was demanding it. And upon realizing I had no choice but to obey, it was like the whole world lifted off my shoulders. That’s a really nice feeling.