My Transformers Are Still In Their Boxes After 20yrs.

Just to give you some context for this post, I need to give you some background information about my life. Specifically, my illness.

About 2 and a bit months ago, I was diagnosed with severe Bipolar Disorder, something my fuckdoll has helped me immensely with. She has been one of the stand out figures that has given me strength and focus to keep me on my medications, and work through the side-effects.

But the Bipolar still lingers (it will never go away and has been around causing problems all my life), and its lingering now. I'm suddenly feeling depressed. I am listening to music that is probably not the best for my mood as it reminds me of certain parts of my life where I should have stopped being taken advantage of. Or times where I needed to be more assertive about what I wanted.

Is this low episode anything to do with me collaring fuckdoll? That is undoubtably something she's going to ask - she gets concerned about me and worries that our dynamic is self-destructive at times for me. But its certainly not self-destructive in any way. You have no need to worry about that my girl.

Then, what is it to do with? What caused this depression to envelop me so suddenly over the space of literally 45mins.

Its a combination of things.

But they are private things to me and don't need to be discussed here. But, truth be told, I'm unsure on how to reduce the hold that they have over my life when left unchecked.

I realised today that some people see a submissive as an object to be used. And while that may be the case in some part, my object to be used smiles, laughs and has things she enjoys. Is this a different way of looking at a Master/submissive relationship?

Perhaps.

I remember as a child that I had thebest toys of my circle of friends, but rarely played with others. All my action figures were stored in their original undamaged boxes they came with. The graphics stickers where pristine and glued back into place if their corners began to peel.

But, on the rare occasions that I let the other children play with my toys, I spent more time than usual afterwards fixing the toys back to working order. And I never enjoyed that time. I felt used, even though I wasn't the one handled roughly.

I think I may have hit upon the reason for my depression...

I have an unquenching desire to allow others to play with my fuckdoll, but I want to ensure no patch-up time is required afterwards.

The thought of someone else damaging my favourite action figure is too hard to think about.

Mark.


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