When you get hurt, more than just a bruise or a broken bone. No one prepares you for the overwhelming optimism that will inevitably pour over you like a blinding flood. It's hard to accept when your body's been permanently changed. 5 years post-injury and I am still struggling at times to make this new body work the way it used to. I can never return to the person I was before stars exploded behind my eyes.
For some reason, that fact has been harder for others to accept than any moping thought I could conjure in my hellscape of a psyche. From the moment sharp pain connected to my temple, I knew something was different, and yes, I grieved. It is hard to accept that words will never come easy. I can see how uncomfortable people are when they see dizziness flow through me like a twisting river. My eyes cross and I waver like grass in the wind. It's ugly, It's frightening, but it's the only reality I've got.
I accepted the fact that this was permanent in those first horrible weeks. When my words were gone. My days and nights became a spinning roulette as I struggled to get out of bed without collapsing on the cheap linoleum of our apartment.
To my friends and family, especially my mother, I had it all wrong. If I was patient, if I hung my heart on the healing of positive thinking, then of course I would see that this was just a season. Concussions get better. They always do. But when they don't...then the words traumatic brain injury become taboo, Sometimes you don't get better. Surrounded by joy, I am left, wallowing in guilt when my healing does not meet their expectations.
I lost my career, my house, and my future in one instant that frankly should have hurt far more than it did. I lost every piece of my identity and was left to salvage a new one from shards of broken dreams. It is not easy to rebuild one's life. Even in kink, I was not spared. I used to love the way that a sting of pain from my darling's firm hand could send me flying. But now...even that joy is no longer what it was. How can I delight in the heat of a crop when I can feel my heart trying to leave my chest? The trembles you see are not from pleasure or even pain. They are my body crying out, begging me to stop. I can't take this anymore. I want his attention, his rules, but how can I hope to reclaim what we lost when even a tap on the ass sends me crashing.
Even on my darkest night, there will be hope. I may have had to reimagine my career, but eventually, I found a new life's passion. Our house is smaller, but frankly, that large house never fit us anyway, and as for kink...
I find it endlessly hilarious that it took 5 years and a strong whack to the head for me to finally re-embrace the fetish I had worked so hard to suppress, but I am here. In this community, I have found the kind of kinship I have always wanted but never achieved in local scenes. I feel seen. I feel cared for. In this space of laughter and joy, I finally have a place to escape my hurts.
Many have asked if my inability to write or type the word tickle is a bit. It seems that way. If you meet me in any kink space I come off as flustered and embarrassed at all times. It's over the top, and unreal...but it is me. A brighter side to a harsher reality. The truth is...I enjoy it. Stumbling over my words does embarrass me. At work or with friends, I can hardly stand the thought of people seeing me as I am. With stress or nerves, my tongue ties up like a knot and all I can do is wait and hope that those around me don't judge too harshly.
But here, in this space, I can live a fantasy where it's not ugly or strange. I stumble through the words of my kink because the mere thought of them feels so intense that my tongue becomes stone. I don't have to care when fluster calls for me. I can embrace it and once again feel the unyielding adoration of my darling Sir.
I can love the pieces of me that have hurt for five years. A lee to be loved. I do not know what futures await for me in this community, but I feel like I have come home.
For some reason, that fact has been harder for others to accept than any moping thought I could conjure in my hellscape of a psyche. From the moment sharp pain connected to my temple, I knew something was different, and yes, I grieved. It is hard to accept that words will never come easy. I can see how uncomfortable people are when they see dizziness flow through me like a twisting river. My eyes cross and I waver like grass in the wind. It's ugly, It's frightening, but it's the only reality I've got.
I accepted the fact that this was permanent in those first horrible weeks. When my words were gone. My days and nights became a spinning roulette as I struggled to get out of bed without collapsing on the cheap linoleum of our apartment.
To my friends and family, especially my mother, I had it all wrong. If I was patient, if I hung my heart on the healing of positive thinking, then of course I would see that this was just a season. Concussions get better. They always do. But when they don't...then the words traumatic brain injury become taboo, Sometimes you don't get better. Surrounded by joy, I am left, wallowing in guilt when my healing does not meet their expectations.
I lost my career, my house, and my future in one instant that frankly should have hurt far more than it did. I lost every piece of my identity and was left to salvage a new one from shards of broken dreams. It is not easy to rebuild one's life. Even in kink, I was not spared. I used to love the way that a sting of pain from my darling's firm hand could send me flying. But now...even that joy is no longer what it was. How can I delight in the heat of a crop when I can feel my heart trying to leave my chest? The trembles you see are not from pleasure or even pain. They are my body crying out, begging me to stop. I can't take this anymore. I want his attention, his rules, but how can I hope to reclaim what we lost when even a tap on the ass sends me crashing.
Even on my darkest night, there will be hope. I may have had to reimagine my career, but eventually, I found a new life's passion. Our house is smaller, but frankly, that large house never fit us anyway, and as for kink...
I find it endlessly hilarious that it took 5 years and a strong whack to the head for me to finally re-embrace the fetish I had worked so hard to suppress, but I am here. In this community, I have found the kind of kinship I have always wanted but never achieved in local scenes. I feel seen. I feel cared for. In this space of laughter and joy, I finally have a place to escape my hurts.
Many have asked if my inability to write or type the word tickle is a bit. It seems that way. If you meet me in any kink space I come off as flustered and embarrassed at all times. It's over the top, and unreal...but it is me. A brighter side to a harsher reality. The truth is...I enjoy it. Stumbling over my words does embarrass me. At work or with friends, I can hardly stand the thought of people seeing me as I am. With stress or nerves, my tongue ties up like a knot and all I can do is wait and hope that those around me don't judge too harshly.
But here, in this space, I can live a fantasy where it's not ugly or strange. I stumble through the words of my kink because the mere thought of them feels so intense that my tongue becomes stone. I don't have to care when fluster calls for me. I can embrace it and once again feel the unyielding adoration of my darling Sir.
I can love the pieces of me that have hurt for five years. A lee to be loved. I do not know what futures await for me in this community, but I feel like I have come home.
