A Cry in the Dark

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

flashbacks....

Sir and I went to that famous NYC club this past Saturday. A couple of things happened that got me a bit unsettled. I’m still struggling to understand why and how to deal with the situation....

As we came down a short hall, there was a couple huddled up in a corner. When we got closer, I could see her writhing with pleasure as the man drew a blade down the side of her neck. It took a moment for my brain to register what I was seeing. Stomach clenching, I quickly looked away, feeling very unsettled.

Quite a bit later, we were watching a friend set up for some wax play. The Domme walked over to me with a sheath in her hand. Holding it out to me, she said that this was what she used to scrape the wax off. I looked at the sheath, trembling inside. She urged me to pull out the blade, telling me that it wasn’t sharp. Trying to remain dispassionate, I slowly slid it out of the sheath. A small part of my brain was panic-stricken while I held it, admiring the weight of the handle, the balance. As I shifted it back and forth, watching the lights flickering from the blade, she explained how she used it and commented that it was intentionally dull so it wouldn’t cut the skin. I put the blade back into the sheath and complimented her on the beauty of it. And it was beautiful! So why was I feeling so unsettled?

That night, as we were falling asleep, images from twenty-some years ago flashed into my mind. They were so strong at one point I wanted to get up and write it all down.... Writing about it doesn’t help. I’ve tried that. Over and over and over again.... It’s been almost 24 years. Why can’t I get past it? Why can’t those images blur a bit and be less painful?

It was still bothering me on Sunday. We were talking about some of the scenes we had seen on Saturday when it happened. I started crying. Out of nowhere, tears just built up and began to fall. His concern evident, He began questioning me. I don’t know why the whole situation affected me so strongly. Maybe it was the lighting. Or the fact that it was in a basement. (Just writing this has caused my throat to tighten and my chest to hurt. Tears are building again....) This is just so stupid! NO ONE threatened me in any way.... The blades weren’t even sharp!

Why is this happening? I’ve used knives since then. (Of course!) I’ve even held and used a knife just like the one used on me. I know the murderer isn’t even eligible for parole for another 21 years. If he’s even still alive.

How do I get over this irrational fear? How do I STOP this stupid reaction? How do I move past this?

Posted by WistfulWench :: 9:08 AM :: 2 comments