Catharsis… the eye of the storm.

The other morning, Sir fucked my face until I couldn’t take it anymore. My body called red in its own way. I cleaned up a bit, taking my seat on the cushion at Sir’s feet. I calmed down enough, and I knew it was almost time for Sir to go downstairs and hang with the fam.

I asked quietly if He would hold me for a few minutes before He went down. He of course agreed and asked if I wanted to lay in bed. So we moved there: His right arm under my neck, left arm around my waist pulling me close to Him. Then it happened. My eyes burned and welled up with tears and I began to sob.

There were no thoughts in my head other than being aware of the fact that I was crying uncontrollably, complete with sobs and hiccups. Now I am an emotional person, but I rarely let myself cry… I mean, I can count on two hands the number of times that I’ve cried going through this separation/divorce thing, and well, that’s a record for the year I think.

Catharsis – n. The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

I have not felt safe enough to cry around my soon-to-be-ex-wife for quite some time. Hell, I haven’t felt safe enough to be myself either. But that’s another post. Being with Sir has given me a chance to not only be myself, but to explore the parts of myself that have been dormant for so long. But in order to do that, there must be trust. And I cannot speak highly enough about the trust I have in Him, in us. It is trust that we have built, grown stronger, and holds my heart safely. Because of that trust – I can let go.

And the thing is, catharsis isn’t something you can plan to achieve, kind of like subspace. You can hope for it, and you’ll probably reach some degree of it. But emotions are unpredictable, especially on the edge. And that’s exactly where Sir and I live.

But catharsis is the eye of the storm. It’s the peace of finally acknowledging the building pain inside you, but that’s not the final step. Then comes the processing. And this is where I sometimes get stuck. It’s easy to bottle them up, let off the pressure, and then tighten the lid again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Or, learn how to ride out the tail of the storm. I’m working hard on getting through the storm, but I’m a little wind-blown at this point. I’m thankful that I have Sir to lead me back to the eye of the storm for some peace when I need it. His presence calms me in a way that no one else has. So whether He’s wielding a cane, fucking my face, or holding my body close to His in bed, I am assured a safe place to be.



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