Autumn Winds

It's happening.  The summer's gone, and the cold and the darkness are setting in... not overwhelmingly yet, but little by little I'm feeling my joy being siphoned out me as I awaken to a dark bedroom with a little bit of a chill in my bones. My emotions are just a little out of control as  BabyMan moves about going through his normal routine as though it's not happening. But it is happening. I feel myself becoming teary eyed and start to sink into what BabyMan calls the abyss. As a drop of morning's light begins to stream into the room while he dresses in front of his closet, he glances over at me and tilts his head as it dawns on him what's happening. He asks me if I'm alright, and upon hearing my pathetic affirmative mumble, decides that it's time for him to do something. He doesn't want this thing to get out of hand.

This is the first time he's seen the symptoms rise in me this year, and he can't... he won't allow me to retreat into my personal hell. He tells me to take the covers off, turn over and hug my pillow. I know what he's up to, and I can't argue. Since last December, he's known what to do in this situation, and even though it's uncomfortable, there's something cathartic about releasing my emotional discord through the physical pain. He comes in and pulls me out of my anguish by slapping my behind, first with the leather paddle, and then with a loopy Johnny that was gifted to us. The paddle I can take. I'm used to it. The sting pushes my emotional angst through my eyes in the form of hot steamy tears as I press my pillow against my body. Then he grabs the loopy and gently uses a soft wrist action to let it drop on me. It hurts more than I could ever imagine, and I begin to cry audibly. Softly at first, and then I begin to wail, screaming into the pillow and convulsing. My emotional and physical pain become one, and I release them into the atmosphere in a series of gut wrenching sobs as I try unsuccessfully to remain still.

When he's through, he holds me and reassures me that I will be fine, and tells me how much I'm loved as he wraps me in the cocoon of his arms until it's time for him to finish preparing for work.  Before he leaves, he sits down on the bed for his instructions to me.

The kitchen and living room are a mess as we had relaxed ourselves into a coma all weekend with the exception of church services on Sunday.  The sink overflowed with dishes, the marble counter cluttered with cooking utensils and dirty pans from a couple of elaborate meals I had prepared. We had shed our clothing and tossed them all over the couches, and the floor held several pair of our shoes and socks. Now the weekend was over and it was time to once again become grownups and live as though we were raised as civilized human beings.

"The front room's a mess, Babe," he said.

"Yeah," I mumble as I rubbed my stinging bottom with the palm of my hand. "Who's gonna clean it up?" I quip.

"Well, I don't know," he smiles. "but It needs to be clean when I get home. I'm sure you'll find someone to do it."

I nod my head.

"That's your task for today. That and... make sure you get to the gym."

We both knew that the endorphins from the cardio and weight training will enhance my energy and lift my mood for hours if not days. I promise I will as he kisses me and pulls the covers over my naked body so that I can drift off to sleep.

I awake about 30 minutes later, dress in my workout clothes, make a half-assed attempt at straightening the front room, and pack my gym bag with the necessities to spend an hour or so at the YMCA.

At 10:30 I receive a call from my mother who invites me to lunch. I had planned to go to the gym about a mile from her place anyway, so I say yes. I should have known better. It's not easy for me to have a full lunch with Mom and still get to the gym, and I was already dragging. I think I know deep down that I'm not going to make it... and I don't.  I spend the day wallowing in my own misery, allowing myself to be distracted, overeating, depressed, defiant in my laziness.  I'm more than willing to let the Seasonal Affective Disorder win, and I just don't care.

I arrive home about 5:45.  I had gotten a little bit accomplished in the front room, but it was still in a bit of disarray. I had managed to get to the market on the way home to buy the ingredients for dinner, and when I walk in BabyMan is standing in the middle of the leftover mess, arms folded, disappointed. The conversation is abrupt, curt. Stressful.

"Where have you been?" he demands.

"At Mom's."

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you about 30 minutes ago."

"I left it at Mom's place. I didn't realize it until I got to the store."

"Looks like you didn't get much done around here."

"I got a little done."  I look around at the mess.  "I tried."

He shrugs and sits down in the overstuffed chair. "Dinner?" he asks.

"Ready in about 15 minutes" I say, relieved that he's not pushing the issue.

"How was your workout?"

Damn! I immediately want to tell him that it went just fine, and let the subject drop there... but lying to him is something that had become more and more difficult for me to do since we started ttwd. Our relationship had changed to the point where lying simply was no longer an option. He always knows when I'm lying. I can't look him in the eye, I can't steady my voice. There is no choice here.

"I... didn't get to the gym."

"Why not?"

"I... lost track of time."

We stare at each other for a moment, lost in the uncomfortable quiet of the room. I move behind the kitchen counter and begin to make dinner.

We eat in silence while we watch old reruns of Sienfeld. I never know if he's going to be merciful and let me slide at this point. Sometimes he will, and sometimes...

"I want you to go to the bedroom and put your pajamas on and lie across the bed over pillows," he says as I clear the dishes from the table.

There is no argument.  I have no argument.  I walk into the bedroom and prepare. When he comes in, I am already in tears, terrified that he's going to reach again for the loopy johnny. When I looked back I am relieved that he had his belt in his hand. The belt that I've been frightened of since day one.  He steps in front of me and kneels down so that we are face to face. "You know how important it was that you get to the gym. You know that your workout is crucial to your emotional health. You decided to blow it off."

"No, I didn't decide... it just... happened." 

"Well we're going to make sure it doesn't just happen again. You will not disobey and ignore me with something this important.  Do you understand?"

I begin to cry loudly, my nose is running and the tears are starting to soak the bed. He moves behind me and pulls down my pajama bottoms. I heard the lecture continue as I felt the sting of the belt come down on my behind over and over again in the same spot. When I move my hand back to protect myself, I hear him sternly warn me... and I again reach for the pillow.  The pain is intense, I find myself biting down on my pllow to keep from squirming too much.  I yell out "Please, Please, "  over and over again, only to be ignored.

Suddenly the spanking  stops.  I'm swollen, hot, exhausted, angry at myself.  He's rubbing something soothing on my bottom, then bends down and kisses me on the offended area before he leaves me to return to the living room.

It's over. 

Tomorrow, I think I'll clean the house and go to the gym.