Over…

Spitfire has been announcing over the various places we inhabit online that we’re over.

I have to sit back and look at the last few months…

Both of us have had our mental health upsets. For her, a tentative diagnosis of autism is leading her to a potential treatment. For me, after waiting for a year to see the local “specialist,” I got told that what I have is not autism because I can socialize, but that it’s just as hard to live with as autism, parallels autism, but that there is no treatment for me, at all.

I waited a year for that. The world expert on female autism has said that females do socialize, do empathize, do feel left out and want to fit in, and are often misdiagnosed by those who only see male pattern autism as the normal.

“Get therapy,” Spitfire told me. How can I when there is no therapeutic options for me to take and the 10 counseling visits I was allocated were used up months ago?  I have investigated every single route I have for therapy. If there isn’t 6 months to a year for wait lists, it’s aimed at narcotic and alcohol recovery and that disqualifies me because I don’t do enough of either. I don’t sit there and pop pills while downing glass after glass of wine. Or get so baked that my house is a hotbox. No, I simply don’t do enough of that naughty stuff to be considered an addict, so the funding for treatment that way doesn’t exist.  Even as a victim of a crime, I can’t get treatment!

One of the only ways I could get treatment is by paying for it out of pocket, but most therapists, even with a sliding scale, are too much for me to afford on top of everything else I have to pay for. Only a lotto win could change that.  The last way would mean being a bit too risky for my life.

I am still looking for some sort of therapy, and for now my journal, and this blog, are all I have.

My journal…

“Journal,” she told me. I finally started to, and part of journaling was that I was to share it with her so she could have an insight into my mind that she couldn’t reach. I find journaling hard, especially when it has been used against me in a court of law, or personally by my abuser, as my words were read back to me and used to taunt me.

I obeyed. As she read it, she got hurt by my words, yet journaling is a basic tool and technique to help dominants, especially long distance ones with their subs. I journaled. I hurt her. I got punished for doing the very thing I found hard to do in the first place. Even if the words hurt her, she should have kept on telling me to journal and go forward with it, instead of feeling like I failed at yet another repetitive task she gave me.

I obeyed, and still got punished. That’s been a pattern throughout my life…

She should have been praising me for getting the hard words out, so they didn’t fester, any time I journaled.  She should have, but she didn’t.

She told me I could go ahead and explore Gor, but that I was a white scarf – my sexual pleasure was hers only, inside and outside of Gor. I couldn’t even be sexual within the areas where YMO members played, not really. I obeyed. I begged her for the release I needed before sleep, and she would balk at guiding me. I begged. My pleasure was for her, why wouldn’t she share it, or at least give me permission for it, permission I needed to get past nerve damage and more? I obeyed…

…and got punished for obeying. She couldn’t participate. She refused to participate. Issues with the kids made it impossible to do anything when she was able to participate months ago. Then, finding out that everything I liked doing did nothing for her sexually… where did this come from? She was such a loving lover… what happened?

She played in my mind, then got scared to because of all the trauma I have had in my past. She was unwilling to risk causing more. I can’t blame her for that.

Did she remember all the times I tried to made things easier for her on Whip broadcast days? Did she remember everything I did for her? How I cried out for help to get her help she needed to help her be … stronger? no, that’s not the right word… but it is. English is so limiting at times.

I aimed her at the AMP dominance course and took it too. Her notes were so very thorough compared to mine. Did she not clue in that bottomtopping means that there’s miscommunications between the couplet? That rituals, protocols, and limits, were easily a part of bdsm? That renegotiation was always possible? That submissives need to know that they can be submissive? That putting a submissive in their place can actually be a freeing act for them? Did she learn anything from that course?

We had started to renegotiate. I couldn’t get a direct answer from her as to what I could touch on her in rp. She wasn’t able to separate her mun from her avatar and a loving, teasing act from me became a fight and I became terrified to emote any sort of physical touch.

That’s what the pattern became… loving acts from one were miscommunication. Stress from one became condescension from the other, and a snarl in retaliation.  Physical pain expressed as being broken was treated as “self-sabotage” when it was me begging for a virtual hand to help me get up and get past the pain.  Another stepped in instead and got me going.

I couldn’t make scheduled time for her anymore, and I know autistic children love schedules and repetition. They know what is supposed to happen during that block frame set and can cope a lot easier with change. For the last several months, even if I was listening to her broadcasts, I couldn’t always be there, and I think that instigated the miscommunication. I no longer had time for her, and maybe a part of her resented that.

So, I began to dive deeper into Gor.

Another dominant has read my journal.  Two, actually, and both wanted to help her with mastery over me, and to try to help her be more secure as a dominant and me happier as hers.  Both are trying to help me cope with loosing her as my dominant in their own ways.

Now, I’m no longer Spitfire’s princess, or even her dollie.  She removed me from that group.  She took away any permissions I had of hers.  It’s over.

It’s over…

I read back in her blog, and one thing stands out…

What I won’t do is give up and walk away.

Yet that’s exactly what she’s done.

I miss her so much already.

I miss the one thing she did, that she hasn’t done in ages, that helped me so much.  A single phrase “I’m watching over you so it’s safe to sleep now” and I sleep deep.  It’s been a month – more really since she last did that, and the nightmares have come back.  The pain has come back.  Waking up breathless and terrified has come back.

Maybe I’ll find someone that can help take that away from me again.  Help stop the nightmare of a door being thrown open, my property being thrown on top of me, and a screaming banshee demanding I obey.  Maybe that will go away again.  It never really did before, even when I was sleeping beside someone.  I still wake up, in the middle of the night, and see someone standing at my door, no matter where my bed is to the door.  And I can’t sleep again when that happens.

Maybe she’ll find her way back into her dominance and back to me and we will be together again, but I doubt that will happen.  Too many harsh words have been said.

What has me stymied for words is how few from YMO have reached out, especially among the top.  I’m scared that Mum believes I broke her precious gynoid and I’m waiting for either her rage or banishment or something.  The silence is deafening.  I don’t expect forgiveness or love from Mum.

I did break her, maybe not completely me, but I was part of it.

I broke my gynoidic owner.

I broke 8391.

I broke Spitfire.

I broke the mun behind Spitfire.

And no one should take any blame for it but me.

Walk with Ursus, Spitfire.