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MissingALink
1 246 M Embraced 2
PathStep 11 Compassion hearts19 Forum posts26 Forum upvotes29 Current upvotes29 Age GroupAdult Last activeNovember, 2024 Member sinceFebruary 22, 2016
Bio
Every time I try to type this up I end up rambling through a biographical maze, complete with minator. . .

So let's stick to basics. I find myself paralyzed by stress-induced panic, making me unable to complete the simple tasks needed to keep my small business going. I am also dealing with more depression than I have ever dealt with, centered around two points; romantic partners abandoning me and being unable to succeed on my own.

I have plenty of friends, but I suffer from a problematic level of . . . . empathy? Understanding? I know they have their own problems and I don't want to add to them by piling on my garbage, especially when I should be able to freaking DEAL with the stupid problems myself. I KNOW what I need to do. I just can't do it. When I try, I freeze, which makes everything worse.

A friend posted an article that mentioned this site, so now I am dipping my toe in the pond and testing out these waters. I have had some success in the past in allowing a stranger to help me through problems online, so it seems like it'd be worth a shot . . .
Recent forum posts
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Gaslighting?
Relationship Stress / by MissingALink
Last post
 February 22nd, 2017
...See more So everything I look up refers to gaslighting in terms of convincing somebody they are crazy through attempting to invalidate their perception of reality. It's a big deception with lots of negative intent behind it. But I find no mention of small-scale gaslighting, how to recognize it and/or how to stop it. I live with my man, and I have learned over the last several months, that he gets a kick out of screwing with my head, but not in big, sweeping, convince-her-she's-insane kind of way. It's always small scale stuff that most people file under 'joke', but my memory SUCKS, so he gets me every. Damn. Time. It makes me feel dumb as a post. I hate it. I finally blew up over it and asked him to stop 'screwing with my reality', and he apologized and agreed. And he stopped. For a while. We have very clearly defined limits, so when he did it a few more times, I pulled out the big guns and told him it was now on my list of hard limits. It's not OK. Ever. RED. That should have been a big solid freaking stop sign for him, but though he doesn't do it as often, he keeps slipping, and there's always an excuse, usually that he is overtired and not thinking clearly. I don't think he's a hardcore example, trying to convince me I have no grasp on my reality, but he clearly gets kicks out of the small stuff and doesn't understand why it upsets me so much. What the hell do I do with this beyond calling him on it as it happens? (Which doesn't seem to be doing anything btw)
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I managed to commit to the fight and armed myself against my depression
Positivity & Gratitude / by MissingALink
Last post
 May 3rd, 2016
...See more Well, I did it. I made a commitment a month or so ago to permanently recognise and mark my depression. I sank lower this winter than I have ever sunk before. As a person who always disdained suicide as an unacceptable measure, I found myself frequently fighting back thoughts of a permanent end to my misery. The thoughts terrified me and added a note of desperation to my struggles that aided in making life a perfect hell for me. So when I started to turn it around, when I started to share my thoughts here and explore my problems this way, I did some looking around online. I googled the semicolon project and upon reading that the original idea was to continue a story rather than ending it, as a semicolon transitions and continues a sentence, I decided that it was incredibly apropos to my life these days. Honestly, experiences like these make it applicable to ones entire life forever after. I am changed. I have sympathy now that I could not have before, not without living the pain. I know how hard the fight is now, that it isnt so simple as just not letting your demons bother you. Depression is a dirty-fighting prick and doesnt fight using grade school rules. You cant just ignore it, you have to fight back. You have to get dirty, get in your punches wherever and whenever you can, and never forget to be ready for the next cheap shot. You have to arm yourself and be ready, so that is exactly what I resolved to do all those weeks ago. I armed myself. I know myself. I know how I handle lifes ugly problems. I dont. I handle what I can, and in a manner that leaves the people around me thinking me a very logical and self-possessed woman, but the bigger problems? I ignore them. Like schoolyard bullies, I pretend they dont exist, as though this could keep them from harming me. All this does is give my depression weapons to use against me later. So I took this knowledge of myself, added the concept of the semicolon project, and decided to arm myself with a lifelong reminder of my fight. I needed to remind myself not simply that I had fought, but that I will always fight and that I always should. I needed a reminder that no matter how badly I feel I have ruined my life, I can always rebuild it. I needed to know that no matter how utterly destroyed I have felt, I can always be reborn and will always be stronger than before. So I did more research, asking friends for recommendations, checking portfolios for the artistic influences I wanted to see, and consulting with the artist I felt had the chops to give me what I needed. Once I had an artist nailed down, I reached out to an old high school English teacher. I never had the privilege of having him as my own teacher, but I did get to interact with him and he is on my facebook. I reached out to him because though I used to be a dab hand at writing meaningful prose, I am sadly a good 18 years out of practice, whereas he is a many-times published poet. He helped me work it out, until I was able to bring the influences together into a phrase that I felt encompassed what I needed it to represent. Now, as of Friday and with the collaboration of a fine artist and a wonderful word-smith, I have the tool I needed. The image is one of hope, of rebirth, of fight. Some may consider a phoenix a bit trite these days, but my girl here is angry. She is a wild celebration and a raging battle all in one. Her pose is not one of weak acceptance or passive inaction, it is one of fierce freedom and admonition never to relinquish that freedom. She rages wildly, grasping that semicolon that represents the severity of my depression and the seriousness of my fight, and beneath her, those words that I needed proclaim to me and to the world, ‘ Blood and ashes mixed and stirred, from such mortal inks as these shall my story rise again ‘ The trick now will be to never forget that this is not simply a pretty picture with pretty words. This is a weapon. This is a weapon that I need to respect and use whenever a cheap shot comes my way, whenever I feel weak or ineffective, whenever I feel it is easier to ignore life than to live it. Whenever I feel that I am overreacting, that my fight isnt nearly so serious that I should have needed something so drastic. Now I will always have on my arm, on the inside of my forearm where I cannot fail to see it always, an image of hope. When I catch a glimpse of those colors, I will have to look. I will have to remember. I will have to FIGHT.
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Chucked myself into the deep end with Poly M/s and well . . .
Relationship Stress / by MissingALink
Last post
 May 16th, 2016
...See more It isnt going well. First, some background. Bear with me, it got kinda long . . . After my crash and burn LAST winter (the 2014 one, not the one that we just got rid of) I realized that I have really been in several committed relationships under (unbeknownst to me) false pretenses. I did not realise or recognise what I was doing, but I was trying to submit to my partners. I was giving myself to them, and they didnt know what the hell to do with it, so they failed to meet my needs. Since I didnt realise what those needs were, it was confusing, it hurt and felt like rejection, and every time, it ended on a sour note. Once I found the puzzle piece of BDSM and D/s I figured out where my head had been at and I felt kinda bad about the whole mess, but I resolved to seek out a partner in the correct pool. The thing is, I was a mess at the time that I figured this out. I had just come off an absolute train wreck of a relationship (the freaking jerk turned out to be married, but thats a whole other story) and I decided that since one of the key elements to a healthy D/s relationship is honesty, I would be brutally honest about myself and where my head was at. I joined a couple of groups on Fet after making my profile and did some exploring. I made a couple of friends, received a few messages, but nothing that raised any flags. I even had one Dom message me saying that it was fairly clear I had things to discuss outside of BDSM, and if I wanted to, hed be happy to be an ear. Shortly after I opened up my profile, I had a seriously scary moment in my life. My day had gone especially badly and re enforced every disparaging thought I had about myself. On my drive back home (definitely with my tail tucked firmly between my legs) I thought to myself that I would stop disappointing everyone if I just drove off the road. I have never had a suicidal thought in my life. I have always held the concept somewhat in contempt, to be honest, though now I have more sympathy for those who think about it. The fact that I had that thought, even for that smallest instant, terrified me. I got on the computer when I got home and poured my heart out in a public journal entry. I also messaged the Dom who had volunteered his ear a few days earlier. He immediately recognized that I was about to start drawing attention of the bad variety and took me into his protection. Im not certain when, but this developed into an M/s dynamic, but with very little in-person interaction, as he lives a good 40 minutes away and I am perpetually broke and couldnt visit him often and him being in a tight budget crunch as well. He pulled me out of my tailspin. He straight-up fixed me. As soon as I had to report to him and follow his orders, my train got right back on the tracks and we established a routine of constant, open communication and a daily routine that I desperately needed. He seemed to be taking his time with me, as we had not really done much that one could call unusual yet. He decided that though I identify as a submissive, a lot of the ways I live my life indicate that there is some dominance there as well, so he wanted me to be his Alpha slave and be in charge of his other subs/slaves. To start with, he put one slave in charge of training me to be in charge. This slave is a man a good 17 years older than I, which was a BIG adjustment for me. The other big adjustment, I dont feel dominant unless I am doing something I KNOW. I am dominant at work, I am sure as hell dominant in my business, where I sell merchandise at renaissance fairs, but in BDSM? I dont know my ass from my elbow, so Im entirely submissive. Now suddenly I have to tell a man 17 years my senior exactly what to wear every day via email. I have to define a routine between the two of us and include our Sir/Master. It was tough, but I was managing it. We finally got to a point where I was comfortable with him visiting with me and we had one visit. It was informative, it was fun, it was eye opening, it was not repeated. Shortly after that visit, things took a hard turn. The holidays came. My brothers family visited from WAY out of state and uprooted my routine badly. They decided to help my mother to begin her gutting/remodel of our only bathroom and suddenly every aspect of my routine evaporated. I could no longer complete my daily tasks, which unsettled me. As unsettled as I was, I began missing communications between myself and Sir and my.our slave (let's call him m for now) and found myself doing a lot of apologizing. Eventually my apologies began to ring hollow in my own ears, so I did less confessing of my sins. I hated admitting to Sir that I had failed him. . . And so began my latest spiral into hell. When I get stressed and/or depressed, I stop talking. I turn inward to avoid bothering people, to keep from seeing my own judgement of myself in their eyes. Sir is one who does not like to chase after wayward subs. He has said quite clearly, despite my indications that going quit is a bad sign from me, that if he hears nothing, he will assume all is well. Well, communications continued to break down, ms work life got crazy and he dropped off of the radar entirely and without warning. I didnt hear from him for many months, despite repeated attempts to get ahold of him. Last summer communications with m were re-established. He had sold his company and was done working and being in charge and wanted to enter into a full-time dynamic. I told him that I was still uncertain of whether I could make a good Mistress for him, but that if I couldnt I would help find one who could. I also asked him, clearly marking this as separate from our relationship, if he would be interested in extending me a business loan. He had repeatedly offered me stupid amounts of money, all of which I refused as it seemed an unhealthy way to go with the relationship, but if he could offer me a loan, with paperwork and all the bells and whistles, I could get my business running properly. He was excitedly on board with the idea. Right down to making sure I could get a cusion for him to sit on the ground on next to me in the tent as I worked. We began crunching numbers to figure out what we were looking at. And then things went sideways again. He was diagnosed with diverticulitis and might need surgery. I then lost all contact with him until October. For all I knew, he could have been dead. When I finally got him on the phone, he said they had had to remove several feet of bowel and he would be 2-3 months recovering. He was depressed and felt like a burden on his family as he needed care and help getting around while he healed. I sternly ordered him to make an effort to keep me updated. I havent heard from him since. Emails with Sir have fallen to the wayside as well. I feel like I am in a relationship with nobody. As it is, I want to break things off with Sir. He obviously doesnt understand my flavor of depression. He also has done one or two things I do not like. I DO like m. He has never made me uncomfortable. What he HAS done is lie to me. He said, and I quote, ‘If I am on a business trip in CHINA and you call and say, m, I need you, I will get on the next plane, But where is he? I have sent him so many messages and emails, I feel like Im talking to an empty room. I promised him I would not give up on him, but I can't keep letting men promise me their devotion and walk away. Its freaking killing me. But, cursed as I am, always see the other side. I know that he does the same shit I do. He gets stressed and/or depressed and shuts himself away. If he lived locally, or hell, even stationarily, I would drive over to his place, berate him, comfort him, and help him work through his shit. But he could be anywhere. The last time I was about to do that was in October, when I found out he was recovering at his brothers house in Florida. I don't want to break my promise, but I am starting to think I may have to. And then there is the entirely self-serving and selfish aspect. No business loan means no shop staff to help me cope with the business. It means no new and renny appropriate tent, no workshop, no booth staff. It leaves me, with my stress/depression turning me into a useless damn deer-in-headlights staring at fair season approaching like a freaking freight train with no stock ready and orders waiting to be filled from last season. So theres a new aspect to the self recriminations. How dare I worry about the money he was going to loan me when he could still be ill? As per usual, I have no idea what I am looking for here. Feedback? Advice? Comfort? No freaking clue. But I cant post ANY of that on Fet because I know Sir will see it. Despite the fact that he has never been judgemental or unpleasant with me, I do not want him seeing this accounting of failures on my part. So here I am, with a nice, anonymous forum of folks I can spill my guts to. Thoughts?
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