That is how I feel.
It's just a little too familiar. It's too similar to the past. It's setting me on edge. Depression is wrapping its shroud around me, lulling me into pitiful despair.
He said it today... or maybe it was yesterday, "You need to talk to your doctor. It seems like you are getting worse." My heart sank. I have been trying to not see it for weeks now. He is so patient, so understanding, so much kinder than I feel like I deserve. He doesn't get upset when my moods keep me from helping around the house, or when I have surprise anxiety attacks, or sudden anger... when my words turn to shards dripping poison. I get a gentle reminder, a firm hand on my arm, a whisper in my ear. "I should spank you for this."
I feel like my discipline is fading. I feel like I am losing my purpose: to serve my Master with everything that I am.
It's a difficult line for him to walk, trying to protect my mental health and still provide the discipline and structure that I crave. I don't know if there is a right way. I don't know how to deal with my fragile emotional state. All that I know is that I want his hands on me. I want him to take me. I want to be his plaything. I want to be helpless in his arms. I want to be used for his pleasure, to satisfy those carnal cravings for fear and pain.
I want to serve! I was born and raised to serve! I'm so frightened that I will lose this... lose focus on something that brings me so much joy. I am beginning to feel like I'm not contributing anything... I don't know if this is just depressive chatter in my head or if it is the truth. I have never really felt that I had much to contribute... but I felt safe and secure in my slavery. I feel as though that is slipping away.
Oh, Daddy. I am frightened. Your little slave girl is frightened, and disappointed in her weakness, and so desperate for you.