I think too much. I don’t remember it always being this way. I also don’t remember a time it wasn’t this way, if that makes any sense, though it probably doesn’t to anyone but me. I don’t sleep well, sometimes due to outside influence, mostly because my brain has no off switch that I can reach.
Much of this too much thinking revolves around worry. I worry about everything. This is not a conscious choice. There has been many a time that I’ve literally sat crying wishing I could just. stop. worrying. I lay awake at night, the thoughts of the day swirling around in my head, replaying conversations, especially those I wish had gone differently, beating myself up for mistakes, willing myself to remember mistakes lest they should be repeated. It’s not a whole lot of fun and is frustrating to say the least.
My spouse will often remark to me, when I am drowning in a sea of thought, “Why can’t you just let it go? Don’t worry about it!” You see, he has the ability to let everything go, regardless of importance or impact on those around him. I often say, in response to his exasperation, that I have to worry extra hard to make up for his lack of worry. Not fair, I know, and in reality, his ability to worry – or not – likely has very little effect on my worry level.
The off switch on my brain is easily activated when I am forced to surrender to submission. Yes, I know that’s on odd phrase “forced to surrender to submission”. Here’s the thing, that over-thinking brain I have nearly always gets in the way of submitting. I am so very worried I will do “it” wrong, what ever “it” is.
I cannot just “do” a thing, especially a new thing. I need specific details about the how, and the why, of the thing I am to do. I need information to fill in a complete picture, allowing me to visualize the thing. I have enormous difficulty performing tasks that I cannot visualize. “Go get that thingamajig next to the big bag.” I don’t know what the thingamajig looks like and “big” is subjective. Result? No picture. “Go get the blue thingamajig. It’s square with a black handle. It’s next to the brown canvas bag.” Result? An easily visualized, complete picture … and a whole lot of work for the person directing the task. Kinda defeats the purpose, ya know?
I have been accused of procrastinating, on occasion. It’s not procrastinating. I’m trying to build a picture. Without this, I’m blind. Again, this is not something I can turn off. It would make my life significantly easier if it was. When talking about concepts that are new(ish) to me, I will often ask “what does that look like for you?”. I need the imagery to clarify the concept.
Enter bondage. When I am bound, in any degree, the off switch is activated, and my brain goes quiet. It is miraculous. I can be told to “just sit there”. I’ll do as I’m instructed, sure, and it’s not the same. When I am “just sitting there”, I’m still thinking. Thinking about all of things that came before, all of the things that might come next, in a few moments, tomorrow, next week, opportunities for failure, past failures, how not to repeat past failures, thinking about what other people are thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking.
Restrain me, even just wrists or ankles, attach something as simple as a leash, and suddenly, instantly, I do not have to worry about bills or running the household or tending my child or what to make for dinner or if the laundry is done or being pleasing or if everyone is happy or getting it right or any of the other million things that are near constant themes in my thoughts. I can just be, in the moment.
One of my favorite memories is sitting in shackles watching a movie with my Master. Not a big deal for most, I’m sure. It is for me. I can be sitting with my spouse, watching a movie, and have to pause it so he can fill me in on the ten minutes I missed when I took a trip to Worryville. Not fun. Add shackles, and *poof* I’m fully present.
The more severe the bondage, the less I think. There is nothing to visualize. I don’t need to create pictures. I cannot do it wrong. I lose environment. I lose background noise. I lose sense of self. I lose sense of time. I have even, during prolonged sense dep, on more than one occasion, lost sense of gravity, which can be either terrifying or freeing, depending on some unknown variable that I’ve yet to determine.
Bondage: My brain’s power button.