Life As A Dominant with an Anxiety Disorder

There’s a lot I want to say about this, so you should know – this might be a bit all over the place.

In 2013, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder – specifically Panic Disorder, in which worry and panic tend to live alongside me each and every day.

This makes me think of something a little amusing to me – the people who haven’t read my blog, who haven’t touched the deeper parts of my psyche, shall we say? – never guess that I am a Dominant, that I identify with dark, sadistic sexual urges on a daily basis.

And sometimes the readers, who grace my blog daily or whenever, are surprised when they read or hear that I struggle with anxiety a lot.

In person I am rather withdrawn. I’m quiet, actually referred to as a man of few words. I’m introverted – until you get to know me or I get to know you and feel at ease. Even then, I’m socially awkward – I don’t have much of a filter and dark, dry, goofy, perverted humour slips through. So I understand completely how people can be miss entirely that I am a Dominant with a streak of sadism.

That doesn’t come through on the blog though. While I am generally my awkward self in the digital world, there’s more time to think and create a response, rather than waste real time with a person not knowing what to say. I am myself, and you are getting truthful, honest-to-goodness responses, because there’s less a degree of worry involved.

Most days of my life, I have a handle on my anxiety. On these days it’s nothing more than a nervous disposition about something – work, health, the future. It’s worrying but between what psychologists have taught me and what I’ve read, I have a grip on it.

I guess you could say anxiety has stages. On a good day, it’s just mild worry. If there’s a problem, a fight with a friend or I get myself into a spiral of depression, I will spend the whole day obsessing over every tiny detail till I am mentally exhausted.

In this mild-worry-stage, when it comes to dominance and D/s and all that entails, there is a part of me that is usually self-critical towards my actions, my demeanour and my ideas for tasks and scenes and protocols.

There was a moment, one time, where I walked into our bedroom and she’s wearing my favourite lingerie – and I just froze with doubt and anxiety, ruining the moment and mood. Kitten could read my face and we talked about it right there and then before the moment continued – but I will say, in the beginning, my anxiety and my inability to express my anxiety caused self-doubt in her own mind.

Self-doubt that was alleviated thanks to our many in-depth discussions about my weird personality quirks when it comes to shyness or anxiety or what have you.

I WILL SAY – time and practice has helped me to be less critical about my own voice and ideas. There’s always this frightful idea that I’m an idiot, just bubbling away beneath the surface, but I have been getting better in telling it to be quiet so I can be who I want.

On the really bad days, I’m not me. I live in a constant panic that everything – my life, my world, my relationship – will come crashing down because in that moment, I have no idea how long the panic will last – will it be a week? Another month again? I don’t eat, sleep is interrupted, and our D/s relationship is put on hold. The things I love to do – write, read, game – are the last thing I want to do. I don’t enjoy anything that I love.

I’m a mess. I’ll hate myself for being weak, for ruining kitten’s week. I tell her to leave me, she’s better off. I’ll sob uncontrollably, I’ll come up with anxiety-fuelled thoughts that make no sense, and I’ll want to run and keep running and never, ever look back. The last thing I’ll ever want to do is be Dominant and lead.

Being panicked and spiralling can last anywhere between a week to a month. In that time, I don’t eat properly, I’m constantly assessing my own reality, how I feel, things that are said. Even my taste is out of order.

And then….slowly everything will come back to me – my taste, my enjoyment of the things I love. Dominance. I’m me – properly me. All of my systems and it’s many files reboot and for the next week, I’m installing updates and getting back to my regular life of love, work and D/s.

Usually, with my returning state of normalcy, my sex drive will be out of the roof. I can’t say why, maybe it’s just pure joy from feeling like me again and not being riddled with thoughts conjured up by anxiety. But there you are.

I have been blessed though, to have someone who will stand by me through the storm – who will shelter me from the torrential downpour with her own body, even if it means being pelted with rain.

She doesn’t let me buy into my own anxious bullshit. She will hold me, hear my paranoia, reaffirm truth and reaffirm her love and that she is not going anywhere and will be here until I feel better. That….that ability – to have that unwavering patience, is so beautiful and special that it brings tears to my eyes as I write this. It’s something I could never FULLY repay, no matter how much I return the favour when she’s feeling out of her element. It never seems to be enough.

Beyond the spikes, anxiety is manageable. I realised, early on, that I couldn’t get rid of it, I just had to find a way to live with it – and I have. Most days I am fine, I am me. Panic attacks might still hit me in my sleep or randomly while in the cinema but I am getting better at alleviating it via nude meditation before it infects the rest of my mind.

Lastly, I will say this – man or woman, teenager or adult, dominant or submissive, if you ever find yourself in a downward spiral and you want to talk or need a distraction, you are always welcome to email me directly – no one deserves to be alone in that time. Sometimes you just need an anxiety buddy.

 

 

Wild At Heart


I wore clothes to bed for the first time in a while.
It was a particularly cold night in this here middle of winter Australian season. I thought to myself, I’ll just rug up. Sleeping nude can sometimes leave a chill and the last thing I want is to catch a cold. 
So I compromised. I took off my pants and left my shirt on. I figure keeping my chest warm was more important than my legs. 
For the first moments in bed, I was restless. My body screamed. An itch would snake its way up my back, under my right shoulder blade. Around and around in circles it slithered, knowing full well it was beyond the grasp of my arms as I tried to ease the itch. 
I tossed and turned, turned and tossed. I could feel the shirt construct me. Could feel the heat off my skin cooking underneath. Something didn’t feel good. Something didn’t feel right.
And the more I rolled left and right, the more my t shirt twisted beneath me, limiting my movements further. 
Enough was enough – I sat up and tore off my shirt and threw it to the space beside my side of the bed.
The feeling of peeling off the t shirt. Revealing bare skin, the cool middle of the night air skimming every surface of my body, the fact that I was naked…
My mind was instantly transported back to my youth. I had snuck away from the house, deep into the bush where I would undress. And run through the shrubs, feeling the wind on my body and a sense of freedom. I would masturbate there after a run. Feel my bare cock grow beneath my hands.
In that moment, I wondered how other people, those who enjoy nakedness, felt when they peeled off the last layer of clothing and felt completely and utterly naked in the world. 
In that moment, I thought of how it might felt for a woman to unclasp her bra and feel her breasts freed? The gentle breeze on a nipple, the feeling of them swaying as they are released. How a man might feel the air on his bare cock, how it might feel to touch that. 
I was reminded of a moment in time again: I had put a winter jumper on my pug. Moments later, I returned to the back yard to see she had removed it. She didn’t want it.
I, too, am the animal. Wild at heart, wanting not to be bound by clothes. Wanting to feel the world around on my skin.
And I have learnt my lesson – always sleep nude. 

Late Night Voyeurism 

  

Late Night Voyeurism
I sometimes look at some men and women and wonder what turns them on. I can’t help it. Psychology, sexuality – they’re big parts of me.

And it’s not simply thinking what are their sexual drives, it’s how do they behave? What makes them tick? What are their thoughts and desires? How do they behave in the bedroom? What do they prefer? Lace, satin, silk, cotton – what makes them unique? 
The thoughts, they go on and on. Sometimes, like now, as I sit in the lounge room of my quiet house at 12-26am, my mind moves to the lives of others? What do they enjoy? What are they doing at this hour? Nothing is sacred with me, nothing is untouched upon. I guess you could call it perversion. I would call it intrigue. But then again, you are reading the words of a guy that writes dark erotica based on Disney characters. 
I know my life, I love my life. My family, my ideals. But what are the ideals of others? What starts their engine that tears them through the day? 
And will they pick the black lacy panties? Does he or she sleep naked? If not, what are their views on it? I just don’t know. But in my mind, I house an infinite number of universes for these fictional people and I wonder. 
How about you? Do you wonder? 

The healing power of BDSM 

  

It’s 10-24pm on a rather toasty Friday night and I’m lounging nude in bed.I wanted to write on my blog so right now, my phone is lit up in front of my face. All I can hear is the relaxed breathing of my pet as the lonely cricket chirps outside.
What I wanted to write to you all about is this:
BDSM has grown to become something like a religion to me. I connect to it spiritually, it guides me in life and in many ways has changed my life – for the better.
It’s not just about spanking her – or that she likes being called a whore when I come on her face. It’s not about the punishment. If anything, it’s about the love. It’s about the guidance.
I mean, yeah – It’s pretty sexual. I’m a guy with a ridiculous sex drive. I’m horny as fuck right now, I’m writing with a hard on. I’d ride my sweet honey were I not under my parents house right now and abiding by their rules. But that’s off topic – yes, sexuality plays a part. A huge part. But there’s something else there and it’s HEALED my mind.
In my mind, BDSM isn’t just about sex and bruises. It’s soulful and deep and intimate. It’s about connecting with people and finding this bond. This deep itch you both have that sets you apart from the others. It’s about finding who you are. 
Lord knows I’d worship a BDSM shrine if there was one. I’d have my pet kneel before it as I stroke her head before cleansing her with my come. That’s beautiful to me as much as it is ‘fucking hot’.
I don’t know, ladies and gents, I just feel very deeply about it.
I read this article, I’ll post it in edit later when I get to a computer. It stated BDSM is a useful practice for people with anxiety. And they’re right in my case. Being a sufferer of an anxiety disorder and rarely going a day where I don’t analyse if I’m good enough to lead (joy of irrational fear), I get this completely. Leading, teaching obedience and discipline and having this soul under your protection – it really does heal me. It helps especially the more ‘brutal’ we become – though this does not mean I take things out on her. I know my line and though I push it, I push it so with her ALWAYS in the front of my mind.
Anxiety needs an outlet, right? Well when I simply lay with her under my leash. Well, I’m calm. I’m still. It’s like everything has fallen into place. 
BDSM has probably saved my life. I’m not exaggerating. Before I decided to become a 24/7 Dominant – or that I decided to just transform into who I was meant to be, I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t pinpoint what. This lead to me becoming irritable and moody.

In the back of my mind, I knew I wanted it but in that time, I was too scared to approach my then long time partner about because having done so early in that relationship she was completely uninterested. It was a blow but I stuck to it, you know? That was what love was about. But that was toxic for me. I was unhappy. And when she decided she wanted another man and left, I was hurt and distraught. But I knew that she did what I was scared to do. And though I had pain to work through, I was also on the path to becoming Dominant. Only I didn’t know it then.
Much later, after getting to know my pet and having that love grow, I feel rested. I feel at peace. I feel, finally, happy. Anxiety will have me pacing but when my mind is clear, I’m happy. D/s relationship and BDSM are now aspects of my day and with it, I grow and learn every day. Friends and family have said I’m brighter now, more livelier. I can’t tell all of them that I whip her ass and she giggles, some won’t understand. 
So BDSM healed me. It’s changed my life. 
Anyway. Now I’m rambling. If you’ve made it this far, I just wanted to say thank you to you all. Who could I write to if it weren’t for you all? What would I do? You guys (and ladies ) are the best.
As always, I’m here for a chin wag if you need it. If I haven’t replied to an email, it’s my damned connection. So rest assured I haven’t got it so if it’s been a few days – give me three at most in case I’m busy or anxious – send again. I never ever ignore. Not the folk that go out of their way to message. Never ever. So Never hesitate, never fear! 
So from toasty Australia, goodnight, sweet dreams, let the bed bugs bite hard and torture and I look forward to hearing from you all!