Earlier today I delivered probably the most taxing spanking I’ve ever had to give.
The background is thus:I’m currently in a low point of a depressive cycle, mentally and physically exhausted from several weeks of touring and all the psychological stresses, strains and disappointments that come with it. I’ve had several days off this week, but it’s been a very full week nonetheless-Monday and Tuesday were spent helping my Father-In-Law move house, and my wife was in college all day on Wed-Thu-Fri so I was at home with our daughter for the second half of the week, juggling childcare with booking work and catching up with e-mail communication that I’d got behind on whilst I was away.
This, combined with my rather distracted and distraught mental state led me to overlook some household chores, and when my wife came back from college on Thursday the house was rather unkempt.
I’m not making excuses here, it was entirely my fault, just a little exacerbated by the collusion of circumstances.
My wife wasn’t best pleased with returning home to an untidy home after being at college all day, and said I was being “disrespectful” and that she felt “like a slave” and that I “did nothing” around the house.
She then lapsed into a 48hr funk of black moods and snappy, attitude-inflected comments.
Had I been in a strong, normal frame of mind, I would have sorted things out and cleared the air with a spanking earlier, but I was far from capable of taking control of the situation.
The problem with depression is that the slightest negative comment can tip you into a whirlpool of black thoughts, whilst you frantically swim against the spin and try not to drown in the stinking, fetid, inky murk as it hungrily gulps and swirls around your spirit, its wretched undertow pulling whatever resolve you have left from under you.
So “why is the house a tip” translates as “you are a lazy and innatentive piece of crap”
“you never do anything around the house” becomes “you are just baggage to this family, why did we overpack in the first place”
“it’s disrespectful to me to leave the house untidy when I come home from college” ends up coming through the depresso-filter as “your wife would be far better off without you, why are you wasting the best years of her life by being in them”
And “I feel like a slave” becomes “useless and hurtful man, do the best thing for everyone, drift away and die”.
I hate the way my mind works when I’m feeling that way. Which, of course, just compounds the situation.
By the end of yesterday I had sunken so far inside myself I felt like I was going to suffocate. I had to play a live show last night, and was dreading it. As I left, I knelt on the doorstep of my house, cuddling my daughter and trying not to cry. I was there for a good five minutes, my poor little girl must have thought Daddy had gone quite insane, but to her credit she kept on cuddling me back until I finally let go for fear of being late. Her love was like oxygen and I breathed in every last drop. I knew, as I left, that the love I felt for and from my daughter would sustain me for the evening, even if I was in a hellish place inside, still.
Paul, the cheerful and kindly owner of the venue I was playing at, immediately approached me when I arrived, put his arm around me and said “there’s a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders if I ever saw one. You look like you’re disappearing, are you okay?”
“disappearing” is a horrible word. I’m a large man, tall and broad, and I’ve never been accused of “disappearing” before. I felt like vomiting on the spot. Instead, I forced a smile and made some pathetic excuse about “too long on the road” or somesuch. Paul was visibly worried about me, however, and hovered around me all evening, being his kind and attentive self. What a lovely and perceptive person he is.
This morning, I was awoken at 10am (I got in from my work at around 2am) by our local mobile hairdresser, who I’d booked to cut my wife and I’s hair, but had since forgotten about. My wife, who had been out drinking with friends the night before, was hungover and irritated that I’d slept in and had kept our scissor-wielding chum waiting. She stood in the doorway chiding me as I dressed, something which I would have quashed immediately under normal circumstances, but my half-submerged brain was in no fit state to process anything.
After a spot of snippery which left me looking somewhere between ‘Piece By Piece’-era John Martyn and a butch lesbian, we adjourned to my father-in-law’s new house for tea, cake and housewarming.
We returned home later, put our daughter down for an afternoon nap and sat down for a chat, at my instigation. My wife was still taciturn and wouldn’t take on board what the points I was trying to make. I apologised unreservedly for my lack of housekeeping, but explained how unhappy I was with her stormy attitude and the lack of communication between us. I forced my points out through my clouded and befuddled mind, trying desperately to unpick the problem and make sense of everything.
“I’m just saying yes or no and telling you what you want to hear” opined my stroppy-yet-still-beautiful wife. “if you’re going to spank me, get on with it so we can get it over with”.
In answer to her complaints about my housekeeping, I reminded her of her post ‘If I Were An HOH’ from her blog which she posted a month or so ago. “shut up!” she snapped…I refuse to tolerate being spoken to disrespectfully, and the ire raised in me at this point induced a clarity of thought previously absent.
“do I need to put you over my knee?” I snapped back. “No” she replied, “and if you spank me for this I’ll resent you for it”.
At this point, I openly admit I lacked the clarity of thought to deal with the situation. Feeling like a ship at a swing-mooring pivoting about the bow with the tide, I needed to escape. A food shopping mission needed to be accomplished, so I grabbed up my keys and made for the door…”I’ll consider the situation whilst I’m gone” said I, and walked to my car.
As soon as the cold air hit me, I came to my senses a little. I got in the car, drove back to the house and walked in. “someone needs to take control of this situation” I said, “and it’s going to be me”.
I then explained to my wife that we were to communicate properly in the future, through civil and loving communication and not through bad attitudes and snippy comments. I followed this with a four-stage hand spanking (with intent, over an hour later my hand is still hurting like hell!) and some reconnection time.
I hope this has cleared the air. I really had to reach deeper than ever before inside myself to find the will and authority to be an effective HOH. It’s so, so difficult sometimes when I’m really low. Thankfully it’s rare, but it still sucks.
Stay strong, lead with love and follow with the same.