Being wide open was not something I came by naturally. I remember a time when I frequently hid in the closet. The door, much to my chagrin, didn't have a lock, but it was the only place I could go without someone noticing. I never managed to stay in it for very long before The Man would notice I'd become MIA.
I haven't thought about those "closet days" in a long time, and now, they are funny, but back then... not so funny. I'd get overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry, or frustrated or some kind of something and I'd run. I couldn't help it. I was so scared of telling Him.
I wasn't scared of Him, (Well, okay I was and am, but in a good way! ;) I was terrified though of being... honest! What if Mr. Patient got mad? What if He didn't understand and made me feel stupid? What if He laughed at me? What if He thought I was being ridiculous and overly emotional? What if I irritated Him? What if... He didn't listen, or validate, or yelled, or... or.... what if I started crying? How many times could I cry without Him getting sick of it?! What if I was being stupid? What if I was being overly emotional, or unfair?! I needed to hide, to sort it out in my own head, to figure out if I could sweep it under the rug and forget about it! I was a Professional Rug Sweeper, let me tell ya.
Up until then my natural state of being was to sweep everything under the rug until the pile got so high in the corner you were tripping over it. Theeen I'd pull it back and let it a little out. This seemed to have been a good route my entire life. Obviously, it really wasn't because I was flunking in the course of Good Relationships, but hey, it was the system I was comfortable with.
So something would happen that would cause me some sense of anxiety and I'd go to the closet. I thought I could hide there just long enough to figure things out, but it never worked out that way. I'm a slow learner sometimes. I kept trying it. He'd always come find me. Sometimes He'd come sit next to me and we'd talk it all out right there, in what had become "my spot." Sometimes He'd ask me to come out and pull me onto the bed for a snuggle and a talk. Every single time though I wound up getting spanked. Every time.
He never did get angry, or irritated, or make me feel stupid, or overly emotional. He never left me feeling like I hadn't been heard. He'd scoop me up, pull me together and make me reveal every little thought that was flitting wildly through my head and my heart. I'd stammer, and I'd cry, and I couldn't look at Him, but somehow.... it all came out. Then He'd spank me for running. For not being open to Him, for hiding from Him.
Other times I'd be stubborn, tell Him it was nothing. I think I tried telling Him that I just happened to be in the closet looking for something. He pulled me out, threw me over the bed and spanked me into a blubbering mess. Then it would all come pouring out.
Finally, it occurred to me, that if either way you sliced it, I was going to wind up telling Him, maybe I should try to do it without having to go through the spanking, blubbering mess part. I told you, sometimes I am a slooooow learner.
So I began coming, ever so timidly to Him. I think I even said something about how normally I'd be in the closet, but was trying a new route. It was a lot easier. He'd just pull me in to a deep snuggle and patiently listen to fifteen minutes of um... well... it's just that... I mean... :) until I finally got it out. Got it all out without being thrown over the bed before or after.... well, okay sometimes I still wound up over the bed, but in a muuuch better way :)
Now, it's funny how easily I go to Him. I still struggle getting it out, but the stammer is cut down to like five minutes! Sometimes I'm mulling over how to start and He sees it spinning in my head and He asks. I give Him that look that I still can't help of slight insecurity, He takes my hand, pulls me onto His lap, and says, "What's going on baby?" And it tumbles out. A process that used to take two hours of spanking, prodding, crying, and reassurance is now like a ten minute process.
It took four years to get here. Four years of building trust and that's what it comes down to. I trust Him enough to tell Him everything. I trust that The Man is going to hear me, calm me, explain to me, help me, validate me... I trust that He is going to give me whatever it is that I need. I trust that when He said He wants to know everything, He truly does want to know. The Man had to set aside any feelings He had of anger, frustration, irritation, being tired, and focus solely on bringing me back into Him. At some point I had to be brave enough to start stepping into Him instead of running from Him. I still run a little, emotionally, for a minute, but then I remember there isn't anything to run from.