Being an ENTJ, one of my quirks is that I’m really good at recognizing problems. The next logical step is to solve them, or at least try to solve them for someone else. My methods are…well… methodical.
But by the time I met Edward, I was on a dangerous path of self harm. I wasn’t sleeping. I was barely eating some days and then binging other days. I would intentionally skip my RA medication. I hurt myself because it felt good. It took my mind off of the spastic merry go round that I was mentally on. When I hurt myself, the intense pain demanded focus and I could breathe again.
I had lots of problems. Depression is something that I struggled with and continue to struggle with. Anxiety as well. Panic attacks were common. I had problems with my husband (lack of attention, disrespect, etc) that I bottled up and hid because it was all that I was now used to. I kicked ass in my professional life and struggled to just…exist in my personal life. I threw myself into work. I didn’t ever want to go home. I focused on helping others because there was no help for me.
That, of course, was the depression talking. When I met Edward, his dominance was so intense it yanked me out of my head and required 100% focus on submitting. There was no other choice. I was in sub frenzy, not eating at all, barely sleeping, unable to focus at work. It was like being addicted to a drug. I made some very stupid mistakes. Luckily, a friend helped me get into therapy asap and shake him. I never want to experience that again.
But now I knew that D/s was something I reacted strongly to. While therapy was helping me figure out why, I commissioned another dom. This one was a Daddy Dom. Suddenly I had companionship and attention. Under his care, I began sleeping a little better. I was able to go longer periods of time without hurting myself. I began laughing again.
Then he broke up with me. It devestated me. What was I going to do now? My progress weren’t habits yet. I relasped. Stopped going to therapy for several weeks. Barely ate, barely slept. Focused on work and parenting.
During this time, my current daddy and I were friendly. He’s a foodie, and our friendly banter included him harrassing me about eating meals. I loved the attention, and eventually when he became my dom I ate just to please him. Time passed, and now I eat because I’m striving to be healthy. I’m proudly recovering from disordered eating.
Sleep was another problem. But I found with Daddy, just talking to him helped me sleep better. His dominance is soothing. After a few months, I began setting my own bed times. I mentally felt better, and I wanted to continue to get adequate amounts of sleep. Today, Daddy no longer has to tell me to go to bed. Now I tell him when I’m going!
Therapy and Daddy helped me to stop skipping meds. Daddy mentioned that he takes medicine, too. Well if he takes it, there’s nothing wrong with me taking it, right? I thought. I was in denial about my diagnosis, but hearing that even strong daddies needed to take medicine helped me get past that.
Daddy likes when I take care of myself. He (gently) scolds me when I don’t, and the shame makes me rethink my actions. It’s a mixture of wanting to continually make him proud (even when we’re not together) and being proud of myself for overcoming some of my bad habits.
Personally, fighting an eating disorder and depression mixed with anxiety means that I have to have a toolbox of failsafes ready at all times. It means that I have to go to therapy weekly, and have friends that are aware of my struggles and queued up to help when I call. It means that I sometimes have to rely on trusted family members to act as a safe haven when I fall. And it also means that I rely on D/s to keep me on a straight path.
It’s a wholistic approach, but not a 100% traditional one. That’s ok, though. It works for me.