The Bottom of the Well

It’s been a struggle to sit down and write. Funnily enough, the more I know people enjoy these random blog posts, the harder it is for me to find the motivation to create. I don’t know what it is, some twisted form of performance anxiety, maybe?

Maybe I just need the chance to clear my head. There is so much clamor banging around in there right now that it’s hard to fully concentrate.

I never really “plan” what I’m going to sit down and write about. I just start typing and flow with what decides to spill out. Today I can’t stop thinking about what’s swirling in my head.

I have dealt with episodes of depression since early childhood. When I’m in the thick of it, they make me feel like I’m standing at the bottom of a deep well, struggling to see the blurry outlines of stars so impossibly far above me. I can hear the strained echoes of the people I love in my life, and can make out the small moons of their faces as they lean over the edge (so bravely!) into my black abyss. I can faintly hear them as they call down to me, describing all the beauty outside above me, painting blankets with their words so that I can wrap them around me for warmth. But ultimately I am still at the bottom, alone, standing waist deep in icy water. And when I look up, everything still looks like blackness and pinpoints of white. So how does the world outside really matter if I can’t see it, smell it, touch it, taste it? It doesn’t feel real when I’m in my well.

I also am attempting to cope with a sibling I love who has untreated mental disorders. They recently were reported missing. It’s been four weeks. Every day that I hear nothing and the weather continues to get colder I am digging in the bottom of my well, filling it with more icy water.

I want to make it clear that the digging is not voluntary or intentional- those of you unfortunate enough to be in the know understand that that’s not how depression works. I look down and my chapped hands are shoveling out icy buckets of dirt and I’m ankle deep. I throw away the shovel and cry. I look down again and the shovel is back and bigger and suddenly I’m knee deep in the water. I go to therapy and bail out the well with a bucket lowered down by my therapist. After a few more weeks, the bucket is full of holes and I’m digging again, despite all of my hard-won efforts. Getting out of the well permanently is a Sisyphean task, and my work is never done. All I can do is be aware of when I start to dig so that I can seek help.

I write poetry in between tasks at my vanilla job.

I go to therapy. I talk to my incredible spouse and both sets of our loving parents. I get to cuddle with my sweet baby. I get up each day and I continue. But there are days where I am hollow. There are days where I am splintered and fragile. There are days where the wind blows through me and my thoughts rattle like dry leaves on a dead tree.

On those days it’s all I can do to not crawl into bed and stay there for hours on end.

Some of the stars I can make out from the bottom of the well have been subs who have been sweet and kind and attentive- even on the dark days.

  • J.- I’m sure I don’t fit the mold of what you want your Goddess to be- considering how green I am. Some days I am confident that I can be that for you, other days I’m not sure I’m what you need. Until the day comes where you decide you want to submit and trust, I enjoy our conversations as kinky friends.
  • A.- You make me laugh with equal parts delight and mischief. I know you are not in a place to financially serve me currently. In the mean time, interacting with you, trading movie, podcast, and book recommendations, getting to know each other and our kinks, and lifting each other up has brought me unexpected joy. Thank you for the gift of your correspondence.
  • G.- You were polite, sweet, and you were brave enough to reach out to me on Fetlife. Such things do not go unnoticed or unappreciated. I look forward to seeing where our conversations go and how our dynamic develops.

I will continue to read, continue to learn, and continue to grow. My spouse and I discussed arranging babysitting so that I could embark on a trip to a dungeon 2-3 hours away. This is one of the many “lights at the end of my tunnel”, so to speak.

As promised, below are my personal gleanings from my literary Dominatrix journey thus far. I will continue to share as I continue to experience.

My updated kinky reading list:

Books I finished:

Princess Kali’s book was informative, playful, and well-written. It includes anecdotes from both submissives and Dominants, and does not (in my opinion at least) particularly cater to one gender. My mind ran rampant with ideas to try out on my subs while I was devouring this book. I would highly recommend this book to any other Dominants or submissives of all experience levels, whether or not they were considering humiliation play. It was just THAT good.

I will just post my Twitter rant here for ease of not repeating myself.

“This was the first book on my list that I absolutely abhorred. Never mind that it was written from the point of view as if ONLY males could dominate- even ignoring that, so much of it ran counter to every other BDSM resource I have come upon.

It describes “soft limits” as things that submissives are “scared of”, and that your job as a dominant is to show them how “silly” their fear is.

So, so much toxic masculinity and assumed gender stereotypes in here that I don’t even have the time, the energy, or the desire to even TRY to unpack it all. Not my monkeys, not my circus.

It discusses emotionally blackmailing friends to force them to become your BDSM play partner so they will take you “out of the friendzone”. My brain cells were screaming at that point, so I had to stop.

I’m only 18 pages in and I’m not sure I’m willing to force myself to read any further for some misplaced hope of literary redemption. It just hasn’t gotten any better.

In summation, this book is the most fedora-wearing, “nice guy” promoting, incel fantasy toting POS, wrapped up in a neck-beard’s wet dream as if it were a semi-respectable piece of BDSM knowledge.

Please avoid this book at all costs. It does far more damage than anything else and perpetuates unhealthy perceptions and expectations of BDSM relationships. You all deserve more than that. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.”

You can find the original post here.

I enjoyed this book very much. It appeared to be a hard-wrought work of love on the part of the author, and that love certainly shines through in how she handles the historical implications of archaeological finds and evidence of Goddess worship throughout the millenia. There were quite a few grammatical/spelling errors that would occassionally pull me out of the immersion of her work (I’m a grammar nazi- *cringes in shame*), but I would fault the publishing house that was paid to handle the book, and not Anne O Nomis herself. It did not cheapen the overall experience for me whatsoever- and that experience was mainly abject fascination and vast enjoyment. I too, would recommend this book to any fellow nerdy Dommes or even just any woman in general who wants to reclaim her sexuality and understand why women deserve to be worshipped.

Now I am currently working on “The Mistress Manual” by Lorelei Powers. Thus far I have found it to be well-written and well-thought out, and have found it to be a delight to read. I just wish I had more time to devote to reading so that I could finish it already. I’m not used to taking weeks to read a single book. I’m used to finishing one to two books a week! The struggle is real.

If you happen to be entertained by my random musings, stay tuned for more. Get another cup of coffee or tea or cocoa. Read on to my newer posts, and subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.

Thank you for reading.

Published by madommedelia

I'm just a bad ass woman trying to make it in the world of BDSM.

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