The Fog

It’s often hard to explain mental health issues to people who have never been afflicted or interacted with someone afflicted by them. They just don’t have the capacity for understanding, or at least haven’t with the explanations I’d tried to give before now. Lately, since my new diagnosis and this life-changing drug, I’ve found the best way for me to describe my personal journey. 

All my life I’ve been walking in a fog of anxiety and depression. A dense, damp fog that surrounded and clung to me like a thick blanket drenched in cold water. Even though I knew there was more to life than anxiety and depression, I couldn’t see beyond that fog. 

Over the last six years, as meds that worked were introduced, I took a few steps out of the fog, revealing shadows of the life outside. They were dark and blurry, indistinguishable at times but visible none the less. After the worst of the side effects brought on by the introduction of a beast called Lamotrigine, every week when we upped my dose, I took another step out of the fog. 

I still struggled each time we increased it. The thoughts running through my mind did not always sound like me, I had insomnia and nightmares when I did sleep. Still, I took a step out of that fog every time.

A weight lifted off me, giving me the ability to control my emotions and my thoughts that up until then had free reign inside that stifling fog. 

It was liberating.

My bipolar diagnosis was like finding the key puzzle piece that brought the picture of my life together in a way that finally made sense. The medication was a lifeline, a refuge, a trail of bread crumbs leading me to safety.

I can regret the choices made in my darkest hours, I can’t for the life of me regret the moments that led me to this place. The realizations, the freedom and control that have come from it, have been worth it. 

I believe people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I thought he’d be a life time…maybe he was simply here for a reason…to help me find that missing piece. 

I should walk away, but I’ve still sent ridiculously long emails begging for another chance. I betrayed him in an unforgiveable way and should let him go so that he can find someone who deserves the investment and care that he gives…but I can’t seem to. 

Has anyone else out there betrayed someone they loved and then struggled so hard to watch them walk away?

How did you move on?

How did you let go of the line that bound you together? 

Where, oh where?

I find myself starting to write over and over again, and each time I erase it all.

I feel like I have a bunch of pieces missing, like I’ve left a critical piece of me behind and I’m trying to grasp a hold on the memory of them. In September I started taking anti anxiety and depression meds and I felt like the sub in me was disappearing. It was a numbness, over everything, I forgot what it was to desire or be desired.

Now that I’m not taking them, I feel myself waking up. Only things are different now. With out my Dom I feel lost, empty inside, like in a story on Literotica on mind control, hypnotism and bdsm, I feel like I am walking around in a fog.

Is that how it is with all of us? Do we all feel so lost without our Doms? We get a taste and are driven mad when the memory of it fades. Maybe that is why so many of us jump into the arms of just anyone, risking our hearts and sometimes our bodies and lives by not properly screening our Doms.

Vile describes it well in here, we risk so much by just leaping into this. So the question becomes how do we do this the right way? How do you meet the right Dom? Where is He if not on Collarme?

I’m going to try this a different way. I’m going to try to start meeting some subs in my area, let me see who else is out there and what their experiences have been.

Wish me luck!