GarnettRose
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2024
- Messages
- 207
- Points
- 43
I have seen the trope of ‘tickle therapy’ both here and in talks with dear friends. It’s something that brings a smile to your face and makes you laugh whether you want to or not. Using it to ease anxiety or sadness makes sense intuitively, and while I love the catharsis that comes from laughing away my worries, it is not my favorite application of tickling. By far, my favorite tickling catharsis is the kind that quiets my mind and body.
My mind always seems to be moving one hundred miles per minute. I am easily distractible. It is hard to stay on task. If you are around me for any length of time you will see me constantly fidgeting whether it be drumming my fingers on the table or pacing our living room. When I am at my most energized…I sing. I come from a family of musicians, lucky enough to have a voice strong enough for opera or showtunes. When the energy in my mind and body starts spinning, I start singing and I cannot stop.
I am fortunate that my dear love enjoys my voice. After I first started my medication as an adult, I asked my dear love if my endless singing and pacing ever got on his nerves. In response, he just smiled at me and said, “No dear, it was what you needed”, and it is one of the sweetest things that he has ever said to me in our twelve years of knowing each other.
As a child, singing constantly will get you bullied. It is strange to sing opera down the halls, and If you sing at the top of your voice enough at home, eventually they will end up buying a voice canceling mask that functions as a portable warm up room but looks more like a muzzle. When I am medicated, the noise in my head quiets to a dull hum. I can be extraordinarily on task. My body stills and the world is a little less overwhelming. Sounds may still be too loud and I will always be one bright light away from a migraine, but for a blessed few hours, I can put that aside and get shit done.
One cannot however, function on adderall and caffeine 24/7. I am pretty sure my heart would give out eventually and it is the nature of these drugs that they become less effective the more that I rely on them.
Regardless of whether I am on my medication, my body is constantly craving sensation. I do not mean this in a sexual way. Being horny at all times would be horrific. For those of us who are born with brains and nervous systems wired a tad differently, there are three different ways that our bodies can experience sensations that are outside of the norm: Under-reactive, over-reactive, and sensation seeking. Under-reactive and over-reactive are fairly self explanatory.
Under-reactive have either dulled sensations or difficulty perceiving certain sensations. In my community work I have seen individuals who struggled to recognize hunger or thirst or whose pain perception is dulled to a degree of danger. Over-reactive experiences heightened sensitivity that can range from intense to uncomfortable, to painful. I have an over-reactive nervous system. It makes me ticklish to a degree that is frankly ridiculous. It makes loud or shrill noises agony on my poor ears. My eyes can’t handle bright lights without a headache. Certain fabrics and textures make me want to crawl out of my skin. It is not just uncomfortable or overwhelming. It physically hurts.I am lucky that I love the experience of tickling so much, otherwise being so sensitive would royally suck.
Sensory seeking is an additional attribute that can exist in normal, under-reactive, and over-reactive nervous systems. It is the phenomenon of craving sensation from the senses of sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, proprioception (movement), and vestibular(balance). Individuals who are sensory seeking may engage in repetitive movements or behaviors that soothe their sensory cravings. A child who craves vestibular movement may frequently hang upside down on the playground or enjoy activities that cause them to spin.
When I am overwhelmed, whether it be by a rapid fire mind or general stress, my body seeks sensation as a form of comfort. If I am anxious I may lay on a vibrating heating pad or lay under a weighted blanket. One of the kindest things about my husband is his willingness to brush me with a therapressure brush or simply rub my back for hours at a time while we play Dungeons and Dragons playthroughs in the background. To spend hours in a rocking chair is bliss, but tickling? Tickling short circuits me.
It is one of the most intimate things that I think can be done with another person…and it is something I crave constantly. There is definitely a kink aspect to it when the mood is right. Scenes being tied down and being tortured until my words blur is a fantastic way to send me flying, but it is the casual intimacy of a cuddly tickle fight(that I always lose) and stray tickles of my sides as we are laying on the couch that have my heart. Tickling is not always sexual, in fact, it is only in very specific contexts that it takes on those meanings. Tickling can certainly be a turn on, at the same time, it is soothing, it is invigorating, and it has become a keystone of the daily intimacies with my husband.
I have certainly gotten off my original topic. Like I said, it is very easy for me to get off topic…even easier for me to ramble if you really get me into it. If you’re ever unfortunate enough to get me talking about my work, I could go on for hours.
My favorite kind of tickle therapy is when my dear ler notices that my brain is in need of a switching off. Usually this sort of thing happens at night. I don’t know what it is about the midnight hour that sends my brain into a tizzy, but once it starts, it is unendingly difficult to get it to stop. When I am all wound up, I cannot help but sing. Hearing my voice ring through the edge of my soprano range and feeling the stretch of my vocal cords is more soothing than I can say…but it is not sustainable. One can only sing opera and pace for so long before something has to crack. When my husband gets that glimmer in his eyes, trailing me as I speed walk in a line around our living room, I know I am in trouble.
“Dear, you’re going to tire your voice for tomorrow if you are not careful”, he will say, worry edging his tone.
I will insist that I am fine. My mind is moving so fast that I could not stop it even if I wanted to at this point. It toes the line between a need and a compulsion. He gets up from his seat and walks toward me. I have been so loud and he is so at ease.
“I think my little songbird needs a rest, don’t you”, he will implore, stalking closer as I remain in my own little world. Sometimes I realize his intentions and let him chase me to our room until he has me at his mercy pinned down to our bed. Other nights, like the one most recent, he simply saunters up until he is right next to me.
He takes me into his loving embrace, his fingers traveling up and down my sides. When my sadistic ler wants to hear me scream he focuses his attention on my underarms, wrapped around him in a loving embrace. I could try and push him away, but that is not the game that we are playing. I want this…and I know I need it. So I will be good for him. I will keep as still as I can while he has his way with my upper body.
My voice has that delicious stretch to it, a sign that I have pushed it a tad too far, though by singing or laughing I could not tell you. The maddening buzz in my brain has been shut off. When my ler is tickling me, it forces sole attention after all. On these nights he will tickle me until my giggles devolve into silent gasps pushed out by my trembling diaphragm. He will not stop until he is sure he has worn me out. This ‘treatment’ ends with me in bed underneath our weighted blanket, a promise that I will be going to sleep.
My mind is finally quiet enough to drift off. I feel surrounded by his affection. It’s addicting. After 8 years together, I still struggle to verbalize when I want this. I have spent so long ignoring my adoration of tickling. I would flush, look away, or remain quiet whenever the subject came out naturally. I consider myself endlessly blessed to have a partner that loves me so unconditionally. It is one thing for two partners to share the same kink, but for him to indulge me so, when this is not something he shares in the same depth, is an expression of love. I get tickled because it is my favorite sensation and my kink. My dear love tickles me to see my smiles and hear my laughter.
(Here's my favorite aria for shits and giggles. I swear my poor husband hears it at least three times a day...more if I don't take my medicine. It's called The Laughing Aria, because apparently I cannot escape tickling even in my other passions)
My mind always seems to be moving one hundred miles per minute. I am easily distractible. It is hard to stay on task. If you are around me for any length of time you will see me constantly fidgeting whether it be drumming my fingers on the table or pacing our living room. When I am at my most energized…I sing. I come from a family of musicians, lucky enough to have a voice strong enough for opera or showtunes. When the energy in my mind and body starts spinning, I start singing and I cannot stop.
I am fortunate that my dear love enjoys my voice. After I first started my medication as an adult, I asked my dear love if my endless singing and pacing ever got on his nerves. In response, he just smiled at me and said, “No dear, it was what you needed”, and it is one of the sweetest things that he has ever said to me in our twelve years of knowing each other.
As a child, singing constantly will get you bullied. It is strange to sing opera down the halls, and If you sing at the top of your voice enough at home, eventually they will end up buying a voice canceling mask that functions as a portable warm up room but looks more like a muzzle. When I am medicated, the noise in my head quiets to a dull hum. I can be extraordinarily on task. My body stills and the world is a little less overwhelming. Sounds may still be too loud and I will always be one bright light away from a migraine, but for a blessed few hours, I can put that aside and get shit done.
One cannot however, function on adderall and caffeine 24/7. I am pretty sure my heart would give out eventually and it is the nature of these drugs that they become less effective the more that I rely on them.
Regardless of whether I am on my medication, my body is constantly craving sensation. I do not mean this in a sexual way. Being horny at all times would be horrific. For those of us who are born with brains and nervous systems wired a tad differently, there are three different ways that our bodies can experience sensations that are outside of the norm: Under-reactive, over-reactive, and sensation seeking. Under-reactive and over-reactive are fairly self explanatory.
Under-reactive have either dulled sensations or difficulty perceiving certain sensations. In my community work I have seen individuals who struggled to recognize hunger or thirst or whose pain perception is dulled to a degree of danger. Over-reactive experiences heightened sensitivity that can range from intense to uncomfortable, to painful. I have an over-reactive nervous system. It makes me ticklish to a degree that is frankly ridiculous. It makes loud or shrill noises agony on my poor ears. My eyes can’t handle bright lights without a headache. Certain fabrics and textures make me want to crawl out of my skin. It is not just uncomfortable or overwhelming. It physically hurts.I am lucky that I love the experience of tickling so much, otherwise being so sensitive would royally suck.
Sensory seeking is an additional attribute that can exist in normal, under-reactive, and over-reactive nervous systems. It is the phenomenon of craving sensation from the senses of sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, proprioception (movement), and vestibular(balance). Individuals who are sensory seeking may engage in repetitive movements or behaviors that soothe their sensory cravings. A child who craves vestibular movement may frequently hang upside down on the playground or enjoy activities that cause them to spin.
When I am overwhelmed, whether it be by a rapid fire mind or general stress, my body seeks sensation as a form of comfort. If I am anxious I may lay on a vibrating heating pad or lay under a weighted blanket. One of the kindest things about my husband is his willingness to brush me with a therapressure brush or simply rub my back for hours at a time while we play Dungeons and Dragons playthroughs in the background. To spend hours in a rocking chair is bliss, but tickling? Tickling short circuits me.
It is one of the most intimate things that I think can be done with another person…and it is something I crave constantly. There is definitely a kink aspect to it when the mood is right. Scenes being tied down and being tortured until my words blur is a fantastic way to send me flying, but it is the casual intimacy of a cuddly tickle fight(that I always lose) and stray tickles of my sides as we are laying on the couch that have my heart. Tickling is not always sexual, in fact, it is only in very specific contexts that it takes on those meanings. Tickling can certainly be a turn on, at the same time, it is soothing, it is invigorating, and it has become a keystone of the daily intimacies with my husband.
I have certainly gotten off my original topic. Like I said, it is very easy for me to get off topic…even easier for me to ramble if you really get me into it. If you’re ever unfortunate enough to get me talking about my work, I could go on for hours.
My favorite kind of tickle therapy is when my dear ler notices that my brain is in need of a switching off. Usually this sort of thing happens at night. I don’t know what it is about the midnight hour that sends my brain into a tizzy, but once it starts, it is unendingly difficult to get it to stop. When I am all wound up, I cannot help but sing. Hearing my voice ring through the edge of my soprano range and feeling the stretch of my vocal cords is more soothing than I can say…but it is not sustainable. One can only sing opera and pace for so long before something has to crack. When my husband gets that glimmer in his eyes, trailing me as I speed walk in a line around our living room, I know I am in trouble.
“Dear, you’re going to tire your voice for tomorrow if you are not careful”, he will say, worry edging his tone.
I will insist that I am fine. My mind is moving so fast that I could not stop it even if I wanted to at this point. It toes the line between a need and a compulsion. He gets up from his seat and walks toward me. I have been so loud and he is so at ease.
“I think my little songbird needs a rest, don’t you”, he will implore, stalking closer as I remain in my own little world. Sometimes I realize his intentions and let him chase me to our room until he has me at his mercy pinned down to our bed. Other nights, like the one most recent, he simply saunters up until he is right next to me.
He takes me into his loving embrace, his fingers traveling up and down my sides. When my sadistic ler wants to hear me scream he focuses his attention on my underarms, wrapped around him in a loving embrace. I could try and push him away, but that is not the game that we are playing. I want this…and I know I need it. So I will be good for him. I will keep as still as I can while he has his way with my upper body.
My voice has that delicious stretch to it, a sign that I have pushed it a tad too far, though by singing or laughing I could not tell you. The maddening buzz in my brain has been shut off. When my ler is tickling me, it forces sole attention after all. On these nights he will tickle me until my giggles devolve into silent gasps pushed out by my trembling diaphragm. He will not stop until he is sure he has worn me out. This ‘treatment’ ends with me in bed underneath our weighted blanket, a promise that I will be going to sleep.
My mind is finally quiet enough to drift off. I feel surrounded by his affection. It’s addicting. After 8 years together, I still struggle to verbalize when I want this. I have spent so long ignoring my adoration of tickling. I would flush, look away, or remain quiet whenever the subject came out naturally. I consider myself endlessly blessed to have a partner that loves me so unconditionally. It is one thing for two partners to share the same kink, but for him to indulge me so, when this is not something he shares in the same depth, is an expression of love. I get tickled because it is my favorite sensation and my kink. My dear love tickles me to see my smiles and hear my laughter.
(Here's my favorite aria for shits and giggles. I swear my poor husband hears it at least three times a day...more if I don't take my medicine. It's called The Laughing Aria, because apparently I cannot escape tickling even in my other passions)
