Cravings

 I've been reading up on neurodivergence and BDSM - specifically the Venn diagram intersecting AuDHD, AFAB, and Submissives - of which I am all of. 

I'm 52, and I have a stupidly ridiculous need to be told regularly that I'm someone's good girl.

I never understood why I had such an abject need for praise, a craving to be acknowledged for things that were asked of me. Never understood why, once the task was completed, if the praise wasn't forthcoming, I was hurt. It's apparently a known thing, having to do with how our neurotransmitters work in our brains, connecting to our nucleus accumbens, moving to the orbitofrontal cortex and through to the dorsal medial prefrontal cortex, and finally the superior temporal sulcus in our brain. It creates the dopamine, oxytocin, and cortisol which makes our brains happy.

Long story short - if I didn't get the praise, the brain didn't give the happy chemicals, and I felt like shit. It didn't matter whether this was at work or in my relationships - the praise kink was always there, always poking at me, always needing to be fulfilled. The desperation and need for 'kudos' at work was ridiculous at times. I'd work 50-60 hour weeks, created training manuals, did peer-training sessions, all without extra compensation, all to get that sweet, sweet 2 second "thanks" in a weekly meeting.

Two seconds. That's it. I'd ride that dopamine high like it was sugar for up to two hours, and then crash for days, angry and frustrated, bitter that I was back grinding for another hit. Craving it, desperate for it.

I'm not a stranger to BDSM, btw. My relationship with it has been a bit of a roller coaster. I've had amazing moments in it, where I hit that dopamine high, floating for hours, and been given the best fucking aftercare of my life... I've also had moments where I almost reached it, but the session stopped just before I got there...  And there was no aftercare at all - just a sudden drop that left me stranded for days, crippled with anxiety, trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong to cause it. When I spoke with him about it, he was confused, saying that we were having sessions at home, so there shouldn't need to be aftercare.

It's no wonder that, after a few years, I refused to play any longer. If I couldn't get the play and aftercare I needed, there was no reason to torture myself. It did more harm than good for me, and my partner wasn't interested in doing anything for anyone other than himself. 

Interestingly, science actually has proven this, by looking into victims of domestic violence. Those who continued with a cycle of domestic abuse had their neurons re-wired to a point where they could no longer distinguish between what a positive or a negative response was, because it was all muddled together into a big mess.

If you've read this far, you're either a good friend, a random voyeur who stumbled onto the blog, or someone who's genuinely interested. 

If you're the first, thank you for still being here. The last 7 years has been a lot, I know. A lot of drama not posted on the internet, a lot of bullshit that was posted on the internet, and a lot of sushi lunches with tears about what was happening, and how to get out. I love you. You're how I made it out with what sanity I managed to keep with me.

To the random voyeur - welcome...  Not sure what you're expecting, but I'm probably going to be a lot. So, you've been warned. This is the tamest post that you'll get, most likely. You'll want to go to my "about me" bio post, to see why. If you come back, though, maybe say hey.

To the person genuinely interested who isn't yet a friend...  I'm not sure what I'm looking for yet, but I know what I'm not looking for anymore. I'm not a damsel, I'm an eldritch goth goddess... Think you can handle me?