As Ms. Julia held me down by my neck, she grabbed my balls and squeezed them hard, to the point that I yelled in fear of injury. Then she grunted into my face with a vengeful look that only a holiday shopper would reserve for a Wal-Mart melee...
"You think you got things figured out? You think you have ME figured out? You think you're so smart with your blog?"
"I'm sorry Ms Julia!" I cried out in pain. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Letting me go, she only reached for a leather paddle and slapped my ass with it several times. The pain was agonizing. All the while, she spoke out phrases like, "You don't know me!", "You better wise up", and "That's right, Bitch!"
The thing is that only a few hours earlier we were laughing at the television watching road rage videos on YouTube. We were like friends, lovers, partners. We were connected.
The unpredictability and the constant roller-coaster ride of emotions has weakened my character. I'm used to living on more of a flat line, even if the line is down in the dumps, it's still steady, and that means I can feel certain of myself. But when I don't know what's coming next, I'm constantly worried.
My emotions have been out of control lately because I don't have any sense of certainty. I don't know if I'm doing something wrong or right, I don't know if Ms Julia is pleased with me or displeased. I'm afraid to answer questions from her because half the time she responds positively and other half she puts on a look of dissatisfaction.
Feeling hopeless and depressed, on the other hand, feels right at home for me.
When you grow up in the shadow of a dominant mother yielding a sure-handed whipping stick, you end up seeing yourself as defective and disappointing.
I don't even feel worthy to take initiative. I mean, who am I to step up and express my love? What qualifies a useless piece of shit as myself to have anything of value to give? I only have my body, my labor, to offer. I'm only a dog to point a bad finger at.
I suppose, therefore, I should welcome the shame and humiliation that Ms. Julia is known to dish out. I shouldn't really worry if she's pleased with me or not. Instead, I should offer up vulnerable underside no matter what her reaction is. I mean, right? That's all I'm good for.
But there's this part of me that can't accept shame and blame. It wants to put my foot down and stand up for myself.
But what foot do I have to stand on? I can never seem to win an argument. And when my emotions blow out of control, people point their finger at me for yelling and screaming. Where else is there love but in the clutches of forgiving arms?
If there should be no forgiveness for me, then there should be no love.
Living in the shadow of a dominant figure seems at home to me. Naked, penniless, with nothing to offer but my submission, seems to be all that anyone wants of me.
