anxiety, fears, life, sugar

Smelling like Fear

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– So, you say everyone smells… – Dim lights in Greg’s living room created the ghostly atmosphere that always excited me. Hanging out at his place was always a hope that one day I will be able to reach his heart. – Tell me, you are surgeon, you know better – I wanted a conversation, my head in his lap, my heart pounding in aspiration to meet his eyes and to have the connection beyond his penis.

 – Of course we do, Vixen – he was watching nightly news, mechanically running his fingers through my hair.

 – What do I smell like?

 – Sex and fear

 – Do you like my smell?

 – Yes, very much.

He was right, I felt scared. Fear bears neediness and attracts weird people into our life.

 – You gotta understand people, like all mammals, sense fear, and if you are scared, they will be after you, they will get you, they will take advantage. – Greg shifted his glance from the TV screen to my face. Tired look, expensive glasses, – Be careful, Vixen.

That night, driving home, I was trying to spot the fear in my body. I found it in my strep throat, it felt like pain, 103°F fever, dizziness, lack of safety and the desire to fall into tears. I waved aside Greg’s “go to emergency luv”, I needed silence to look inside and get to know the funky feeling that has been guiding my life.

Feeling scared felt like following the mind talk, being unable to separate self from the tiny recorder that kept rewinding “It will never get any better” over and over again.

Feeling scared felt like the inability to flow through the reality. The desire to control everything got me panicky; I could not be in charge, things did not work my way, and I got scared. It took me a while to realize that control is illusory, we do not even have control over our own life and death, how can we possibly control others?

Feeling scared felt like being impulsively hooked up with people in order not to be by myself. It was my silently explicit cry for help: “come and stay, give me warmth, solve my problems”. It obviously never worked that way. Being responsible for fixing own mess was the only way out.

Fear was there, the feeling was neither pleasant nor disgusting. I accepted it and slept well through the night. The next morning, my throat felt better. The mind started playing same old “things will never work your way”, I shrugged my shoulders, silenced the inner tape recorder, and went out with my son to catch the sunrise.

anxiety, bi-polar, crazy, fears, feelings, panic, Psychopath

Psychopath, Rick and his House

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Rick invited us, are you coming? – Heather’s phone call woke me up 7 am.

 – Really? –  The last time I saw him ended up in my running away from his place panicking that he will hurt me.  – He is dangerous, I am not coming.

 – He is not dangerous, Vixen, – her laughter was bright and loud, my morning sleepiness vanished instantly. – He is a very nice guy. Actually, he keeps asking me about you all the time.

The image of that door mercilessly ripped apart flashed before my eyes. I shuddered under the blanket.   – I am not coming, Heather, he is nuts.

 – Do you want him to give you a call and personally invite you?

 – Are you kidding me?

 – He is throwing a house party. Everyone will be there including your Greg and Emy.

 – That night in Jacksonville he was not nice at all, he called me a slut and….

 – And who are you? A princess?

 – I am ending the call now…

 – Wait, – her voice slowed down and got softer as she proceeded, – I was just messing with you, Vixen. He wants to see you, he still does not understand why you ran away that night in Jacksonville.

 – Why can’t he call and invite me than? Why do it through someone else? – that guy made me seriously nervous, the morning obviously did not start the way I wanted.

 – Easy Vixen, you are being paranoid, it is just a party with a bunch of boring professionals and their wives like Greg and his Emy.

 – Where? – the thought about seeing Greg quickly change my mind; my heart started pounding; the man of my dreams, my Mister Perfect, the most wonderful person on this planet.

 – At his house in Boca Raton, I will pick you up at 9.       

 As we arrived, Rick gave me a broad smile, a warm hug, and a pleasant attitude.  – You have no idea how happy I am so see you again, my love, – redundantly hospitable demeanor and excessively bleached teeth – I have missed you a lot since you disappeared that night, – dark eyes and showy sincerity.  – She – he nodded in the direction of Heather, surrounded by the guests and giving it-is-a-pleasure-to-see-you-again hugs and cheek kisses – she promised to have you stop by, glad you did,  – he squeezed my shoulders – I shivered. The grip was heavy, his hands were firm and cold.

We kept staring at each other; I was trying to get through the softness of his words to the pit of his psychopathy. His blood-freezing “you are very averagely looking and anorexic. Bye slut” as I was leaving his place that night was still in my ears, the badly damaged door was still before my eyes. His warmth and intelligent politeness did not match the Rick I was scared to death in Jacksonville.

He bent forward, I felt the smell of menthol tooth paste as he was hoarsely breathing out “I really, really, really missed you” in my ear. His hands moved lower, and cupped my butt, I turned around in panic. His guests were having fun, Heather kept flirting and drinking, guys kept laughing, their wives kept gossiping giving her quick and spiteful looks. Huge living-room area, high ceiling, and repetitively nagging “how are you, how are you, how are you” added to my sadness that no one really cares, and no one will actually notice if he causes me pain.

I slowly stepped away releasing his grip with a polite smile. Coming here was a bad idea, the cocktail party, the presence of Heather, Greg, and Emy, other people, everything seemed to be an illusion, Rick felt real though, real and dangerous. I was lonely, invisible, and unsafe in his house.

 – This looks scary, – I pointed my finger at the indoor balcony, loudly talking to myself, no one hears, no one bothers, Rick’s obnoxiousness got me angry and helpless. – The balcony looks very dangerous.

The living-room got suddenly very quiet. I could literally hear the crackling fireplace sounds, and the wind howling from the pool patio. The guests’ glances were cautiously curious and weirdly intense. Heather loud cough as she choked on her water was the perfect excuse to follow her to the bathroom.

 – You are nuts, Vixen, what are you doing? – she got furious as soon as the bathroom door closed behind us.

 – What did I do wrong? – I knew something happened, I could feel it through my skin, through each cell of my body.

 – Don’t you know his daughter fell off the balcony and died? – she was spitting the words into my face, nervously brushing her hair.

 – I did not know, what happened?

 – She got drunk, heavily intoxicated, and fell to the death two years ago in this house, – her words were loud and merciless, I felt dizzy.

 – I did not know.

 – You should not have said that.

I got out of the bathroom and hurried to leave the house feeling everyone’s stares through the strapless dress. Rick’s voice paralyzed me for a moment as I was opening the heavy front door.

 – Why are you leaving?

 – I do not think it is appropriate for me to stay in this house any longer, Rick.

 – Why? – he grabbed my shoulders again, trying to meet my eyes. – Please stay, I will knock you up, and we will have a baby girl. Every woman wants a kid from me, you will get paid.

 – Let’s survive the party first, – this guy was nuts, he needed help big time.

The next morning, I woke up with big bruises on my both shoulders and on my butt, I was sore and angry. Heather did not respond to my phone calls, I deleted Rick’s “thinking about you all the time” from my IPhone and started getting ready for work.

anxiety, control, crazy, fears, marriage, sugar life

Violence Through the Velvet Glove

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 – You are a unique woman, you are intelligent, beautiful, and magical. I have always wanted a son to inherit my business. I had bad luck before, my wife was mentally ill, extremely dysfunctional. And I have found you, you are sexy, smart, and we will start a family, – Dave’s voice was deadly cold and dispassionate.

 – You have a daughter, my dear.

 – I want a son, a family, you are the ideal candidate, why banter?

 There was something cruel about his seemingly nice and smiley demeanor. Something that kept raising red flags in my mind, but I could not figure out what exactly it was.

– I want you to join me this weekend, – he kept talking, detached, serious, and cold. The day was chilly. We were sitting outside a local diner where he took me for lunch. I was wrapping myself in a shawl trying to stay warm on that rainy afternoon. – I have a nice ranch in Colorado, you will like it. I will take care of all your expenses, I will buy you a flight, pay for your own rental vehicle, you will have your own room there, you will be happy I promise. – His voice was dull, his smile was artificially pleasant.

I was quiet and freezing; I needed a hug, but he was not making any attempts to move closer.

 – Vixen, everyone wants to marry me. You have no idea how lucky you are. I am worthy of your time.   

 – You should … – I suddenly lost my voice. Breathing in cold air triggered bad coughing. – You should love the person you want to marry otherwise starting a family makes no sense.

 – I know exactly what I want, I chose you, and I will pursue you. I know you much better than you can imagine. – He was mercilessly cold, and it was scary.  – I did not mean to upset you or be an ass, I am just being honest.

 – I am too hysterical, too psychotic, too anorexic, and too pedestrian for you. You should find a better fit, – my body was shivering, my mind was unable to focus, early signs of sinus infection got me anxiously irritated.

 – Stop telling me what I need, – metal voice, polite manners, and a smell of freshness from his polo shirt. He clearly used a high-quality laundry detergent.

 – I am panicky, I worry all the time, – I kept going talking with my hands, hurrying to express myself prior being cut off again

– This is what makes you so appealing to guys, Vixen, your panic attacks.

What do you mean? – I stiffened in astonishment, the shawl slid under the table exposing me entirely to the humid and windy afternoon.

 – You are very helpless and naïve when you panic. You open up quickly, you get horny, you give yourself to a man completely, you can be used in all different ways, and it is very hot. I love your panic attacks. – The wind was blowing harder, leaving goose bumps on my naked shoulders and clogging my ears. He was fascinated with my panic attacks, it was concerning, it did not sound right. – I have learned about you much more than you think. I know you date other guys Vixen, that’s fine until we commit to a relationship.

 – Did Heather tell you this? – the threat was here, close, knocking on my temples, causing heart palpitations and shivering down my spine.

 – I do not discuss the woman I chose for the marriage with a prostitute. Come on, you really think I am such a fool and do not know what is going on in your personal life? I always stay informed, otherwise I would not be who I am. I know you are feeling scared now, you are so cute.

He was right. I was scared. The smiley mask of a blue-eyed, sandy-blonde, and well-mannered guy fell off revealing the claws of a cold-blooded and cynically relentless stranger. It started raining again, cold drops on my skin and harsh wind in the ears caused excessive eye-tearing. I was getting sick.

 – So, I feel anxious, I panic, and you like it? – my voice was calm, but I emoted heavily through my gestures.

 – Stop twisting what I say. I will go slow, no rush, I understand that you need time to get used to me. I will work on your self-expression later. You should not be too emotional.

The person under the happy-polite-and-easy-going mask was smart and controlling, I was an open book, a toy to play, a pet to train. My head felt heavy, my throat was sore. I thanked him for lunch, gave him a hug, and hurried to the nearest grocery store for lemon and honey. I needed to treat my cold.

 

BDSM, fears, feelings, intimacy, life, love, sex, sugar, trust

Intimacy and Trust

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– You make it very hard for me to love you Vixen, – there was something pathetic about the way Jim expressed himself.

– Don’t love me than

– You are hurting me

 – Break up and find someone else, – I was not the mood to start the drama that night. I was too tired.

 – When we make love I feel you, I touch your soul, and I love it. Don’t you understand?

 I never trusted him, which was the core reason for my ongoing break ups and inconsistency. My feelings were strong, but my trust was weak. He blamed me for being unable to orgasm since I could not entirely open up and enjoy. I could not cum, I did not trust.

There is no hope for us if you cannot trust me, Vixen –

 – Ok

He knew how to be expressively sweet when needed, with time I learned not to buy his dramatic demeanor, charisma, and loud sexuality.

Trust opens doors into the world of multiple orgasms, connection, love, and sincerity. I was unable to trust the one who kept forgetting the safe word during sex leaving bruises on my skin and accusing me of overreacting. I could not be totally submissive allowing him to control my body, my mind, and my soul and at the same time remain distant, scared, with the mind somewhere else.

Diving into submission letting someone to entirely dominate you requires trust. We were together for a while, but trust never emerged. I was scared of his influence and power, the fear kept me sexually aroused, but blocked me from getting anywhere in our relations. He was unable to feel my body and my mind, he only listened to himself and only saw what suited his needs. He saw me being entirely loyal, totally submissive, and worshiping him on my knees with the puppy eyes begging for intimacy. He took everything he could squeezing me like a lemon, and never gave me anything back. He simply did not hear my needs since the voice of his ego was too loud. I could not trust, I was unable to share, I shut down, I suffocated, I wanted out.

Trusting this world opens our eyes to the new opportunities, expands the reality, attracts new people and events into our life. Trust helps us communicate our wants and needs, inquire about something we do not know, and stop concluding the worst-case scenario. We no longer lock ourselves in the cage of our childhood fears and irrational phobias, the trust helps see that our demons are imaginary and are not even worthy of fighting with.

Trust in relationship allows to give in, to let the partner be as close as he wants, and to entirely vanish feeling his presence, his orgasm, his joy. I gotta feel safe to trust, with Jim it was not possible.

I am able to interact with this world allowing people and things into my life, but giving myself to Jim equals jumping under the moving train. I love my life too much to end it earlier than needed.

anxiety, fears, life, mind, panic, sugar

Fears, Panic, Anxiety, Coping

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Anxiety attacks feel like being entirely submerged underwater, unable to breathe, to see, to hear. Fear takes over everything, and the whole world shrinks as panic grows.

The mind keeps repeating “what if, what if, what if” freezing me with horror, taking me to the nightmare of being homeless and hungry over, and over, and over again.

 – What is your biggest fear? – I asked Heather the other day, she got pensive for a second and laughed nervously.

– What are your plans for this weekend? – she quickly shifted the subject, opening up and showing her real self was not something she was ready to do.

– Shopping.

 – I thought you will be with Dave.

I shook my head,There was something wrong about Dave, something fake. He kept smiling playing the role of a real gentlemen with chivalry and manners. “I am from Michigan, and I am a gentleman, Vixen”. At the same time, he was persistent about taking me to his car and bringing me to his place. “You will love it, it is nice and big and on the water”. His invitations were denied. I like big dicks and sincerity; big houses and fakeness do not impress me much.

Panic hit me in the face that morning. I had difficulty breathing and tried to drink some water to relieve tension. My throat shrank, as I was attempting to swallow. I crawled under the blanket; feeling the softness of the plush with both legs was comforting. I started stroking myself under the covers, watching the bluishness of the fish tank water. I wish I were like my tetras; eating, swimming, mating. Watching the fish was relaxing. I felt better. Another attempt of sipping water was more successful, I felt the refreshing coldness in my stomach and smiled. The fear of poverty and hunger got smaller. I was ready for pull-ups and shopping.

Jim kept texting until I block his number. I needed a new job, he wanted sex. I asked for help, he asked for the permission to stop by and f*ck. There was obviously no match between us.

Heather gave me a call later offering to go boating. Watching the sun and the water had always been the biggest healer. I eagerly accepted the invitation and threw a couple of apples in my purse for lunch prior leaving my apartment. Boats always balanced me out, healed my panics, gave me the reality check I needed. The brackish water was calm and greenish. We had to proceed slowly in order not to hit manatees, I kept waving to elderly couples in passing boats, watching lovely seafront villas. Air in the ears, water on my skin. The panic waned, I started smiling, back on the boat and happy again.

– You previously asked me about my fears, Vixen.

– Yes, – I stopped rubbing sun-screen on the shoulders and looked at Heather. Surprisingly, she remembered our recent conversation.

– I am afraid to get old.

I saw the fear in her eyes and gave her a hug. – You should be happy if you manage to die old my dear. Not everyone is that lucky. Plus, you have enough savings to enjoy your life once males stop providing for you. You will always have the lifestyle an average girl will never be able to afford.

– I know, – she giggled and nervously changed the conversation.

Our fears were similar in severity. She was scared to lose her beauty and her power over wealthy guys, I was scared to lose the roof over my head unable to feed my son. She coped with her panic through faking happiness, I welcomed my demons since running away from them made no sense. I neither hid from myself, nor fought with the inevitable. I observed the panic, listened to the crazy mind-talk knowing that sooner or later the anxiety will walk away, and I will be able to move on. It was my way of coping, and it helped.

My anxiety was gone, I slept good that night, and woke up rested the next morning.