Falling

This morning, Maxearnest said "I could... I would... say I love you.  But it is all happening so fast."  And I said "I could, I would say I love you.  But it is all happening so fast." I'm in trouble.  Actually, I don't think he's a rambler that loves freedom, and I don't feel I'm going there by myself.  But I'm falling.  We had a few bumps yesterday, but the quality of our communication handling those makes me feel more secure with him than ever.

This morning, he takes time to get to know my body.  Mine.  Like he wants to learn what I like and what I don't, and he takes at least an hour to play with one part.  He is so incredibly generous.  Even his kinks he's put aside because he seems to care more about how his kinks mix with me, rather than just doing A, B, and C.

This afternoon, we passed a store selling high heels.  The heels I brought are 'only' 4 inches, so Maxearnest brought me a pair.  We went into the store together, and he had me try them on.  The shoes were tied with elastic, so I felt like I was hobbled.  And he had me walk a little bit.  It was as close to public sex as I've ever done.  The new shoes are 5-and-a-half inches high (although Maxearnest pointed out that there's only about a centimeter difference in the angle of the heel because there is a platform on the new shoes).  And then he bought them for me.  It was different than Nate.  It was clear Maxearnest got off on me in those shoes.  I felt like Nate just wanted to buy me anything for the sake of buying me something.  (Also the shoes were inexpensive, so I didn't feel weird about it.)

We got back to the hotel, and Maxearnest had me walk for him.  In a single line.  With my toes pointed slightly in.  This is super hard for me.  All my ballet taught me to have a perfect turnout (which I can still do), not walk pigeon-toed.  And then Maxearnest ties a bathrobe sash around my neck, a little tight.  Hard enough to make me aware of breathing, but not hard enough that it is actually hard.  I kneel at his feet, with my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes closed, and he pushes me off balance and catches me.  And I can't do it.  Inevitably, I let go of my wrist behind my back in that split second that I'm in free fall.  So he has me stand up, in my new heels, and does the same thing with me standing.  And I rebel.  What, after all, is a panic attack if not rebellion on some level?  Not open rebellion, but it is rebellion on some level.

I should say that I think in many ways my ex trained me to have panic attacks. I honestly think he got off on them.  He would push me so hard to have one, then he'd have an orgasm while I was at my worst, but then he'd comfort me.  It was about the only time that he was gentle with me.  (He didn't believe in 'after care.')  So it is impossible for me to look at having a panic attack without that history.  If I do A I get B.  I panic; he's kind.  Now, the fact of the matter is that doing A has a huge physiological effect on me; I feel tense for a night.  My whole body chemistry changes.  (Honestly, my first panic attack was in a grocery store, on the 2nd Tuesday of September, in 2001.  I had been trying to keep it together all day, and then I started to cry in a grocery store and a woman looked at me as if I was a freak for crying.  On that day of all days.  She treated me like I had leprosy or something.  And the next day I went on anti-depressants, and stayed on them for 4 years.  And I had panic attacks often when I went shopping.  I grew to hate shopping.  I grew to be very careful about shopping.  The internet never freaked me out, so anything but food I bought off the internet, and I stopped looking for things I might not find because thinking I could find fresh mozzarella or Belgian endive, or anything I considered a 'staple' that they didn't carry where I lived would give me a panic attack. I still hate shopping a little, but not as bad as those days.  And then in 2005, I made some serious changes to my life.  I quite my 'dream job,' which was really a nightmare and quit anti-depressants and the panic attacks disappeared.  It was over a year that I didn't have a panic attack.  But in 2006, I stated dating the ex, and the panic attacks returned, first occasionally, but then more and more as he got meaner and meaner.)

So, anyway, that is Connie's history of panic attacks.  And when Maxearnest was making me fall (and catching me--not that that belongs in parentheses--I was never hurt; I was probably never in danger of being hurt) I started to panic.  Maxearnest kissed me and kept going and I kept the panic at bay.  I still couldn't keep my hands together while we were falling.  (I'm honestly surprised, but keeping my eyes closed wasn't an issue.)  I guess I pleased him--he said I was a good girl.  But he said we'd have to do that many more times, and I started to panic, and then I started to cry.  I couldn't hold it together any longer.  And the we talked about it.  I think he heard me.  I'm sure we'll return to this at some point, but not right now.  Instead, he wants to take me dancing!

Help me.  I think I'm falling.  And I'm scared.