I have a problem with addiction. Shopping.

It used to be gambling, drinking, binge-eating, which you might say are worse, but are they really any different?

I know it’s bad.  I have a storage unit that is big enough to hold four cars, filled to the ceiling and the doors with mostly unopened things I have bought over the past 3 years.  There will come a time soon to throw it all out.  I don’t want to waste the money on paying ongoing storage fees.  What is the matter with me?  I know these are self-destructive behaviours.  They are less harmful than where I started decades ago, but they are still not healthy.

Of course I have excuses for every item purchased, but surely nobody needs 3 coffee grinders, 5 coffee machines, several blenders, more pots and pans than any kitchen could ever hold. And clothes…so many clothes. I have a problem.

An apt example

Not too long ago I spent a very blissful 24 hours in the company of a dominatrix who is/was very dear to me.  At night, I was allowed to prepare dinner for her [and how I loved the honour of doing so], and we enjoyed a lovely meal…perhaps one day I will share the recipes.  All of them were inspired by her—her tastes, her direction, her inspiration…while not all of them worked out, it was still a yummy meal filled with exploration for both of us.

She, like my previous online Dommes, seems to enjoy putting me to bed on an early schedule, which I am sure that any reader to this blog will piece together just why that feels so nice to me.

“I think my kitten is getting sleepy,” she said looking at me and checking the time.  If I were a brat (in the BDSM sense) then I might resist, but to accept, and to find the sleepy threads coursing through me is an opportunity to obey and an opportunity to just relax into the feeling of being cared for, dominated, owned, and guided.

It is hard to describe just how comforting it is to obey someone, especially when obedience might include being bathed in a nice warm bath filled with herbs that have been selected to operate on your psyche in ways that babies don’t and can’t understand, and just accept because they trust.  Ditto for a night-time bottle laced with herbs whose effects on me have been profound.  To be held in someone’s arms is to be swaddled in their strength, a feeling which lingers long after for the very real swaddling feelings that come from being “diapered up” and having the covers wrapped and tucked around you so that you cannot move.  It is at that moment of silent tenderness, when she might tuck your hair back behind your ears, might say something sweet in your ear, so quiet, her breath hot on your cheek, or plant a chaste kiss on your forehead—a hypnotic sequence that tell you that you are safe, that it is okay to fall asleep.

And sleep I do.  A deep, intoxicating and refreshing sleep, filled with dreams of things that are and that may or may never be.  And for once, maybe just once, to not wake up the sleeping angel who delivered me thus would be a favour returned.  Then exercise, booty and core, the essence of grounded-ness. Just all little steps on a path towards intentional living.

The day’s plans have changed, as they always seem to do, and this has allowed me to be in service for the day.  A special treat.  Not only do I have the honour of driving Mistress to and from one of her appointments, but it is doubly special as it is another “baby”…and boy do I like to support that line of work.  I have an instant feeling of shared joy when there is another “baby” on the horizon.  While this is going on, I have the triple honour of going to collect another Dominatrix in support of an upcoming double session.  

Breaking the rules

But when I left home that morning it was a little nippy, and I find myself quite cold—I do get  cold easily.  While I have an open hour, I know that I can nip into a favourite store and maybe pick up a sweater to keep me warm.

I find just the perfect cashmere cardigan, and even I know that this is permissible.  But I have also committed to Mistress to show restraint, to manage what I have identified as a shopping addiction, and to put myself on an austerity budget—in part because the discipline will do me good, but also so that I have more disposable income to enjoy with her.  She has asked me to come up with a series of rewards and punishments that fit with this.  I share with you that my main reward is to be allowed to give money to a favourite charity—one that is in support of ending child sex abuse…and that this is a real motivator for me to have space to give.

And yet, there I was, in store, and I went bananas.  I bought a skirt, I bought another sweater, I bought a blouse…and what was going on in my mind as I did it?  At the time I said to myself, “I need a treat,” but why?  At the time I also justified to myself that I have a whole second wardrobe to fashion—after all, going “girl” means that most of my clothes are no longer appropriate.

Mistress knows just how false this statement is because she has seen how extensive my female wardrobe already is…so extensive in fact that she had indicated to me that it was time to organise a big-throwaway session for the Salvation Army.  She is right on every level.

She asked me what I had bought as we drove in the car, but did not humiliate me or share her disappointment or anger in front of the other Domina…but later, she told me what she thought.  I was lucky to escape punishment.  Later, weeks later, she wondered out loud what could my motivation have been?

I really don’t know, as I had had the most sublime experience with her, but I also know that I didn’t do this because I felt I deserved it, or that I could rationally be said to have been upset about something.  There are times when I do things that no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot understand them…and those are usually the times when I must try to do so, because they are hiding things that are for me hard to figure out—emotional defence mechanisms of some kind.

It remains a mystery, but I gave to the charity anyway, because I didn’t want there to be two wrongs going on simply because I have no self-control.  I was given a homework assignment even though I am no longer slave, and it is to read a book on addiction.  I am pleased to say that it has arrived today, and I shall tuck into it anon.

I have been given several years of reading, my life has been nudged in a new direction, and I am all the better off for it.  You want something to happen quickly and deeply in your life?  Go see a dominatrix.

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