You know how you can have good days and bad days. Everyone does. My depression ebbs and flows like that too. But it can be triggered by anything. I think some of it is the PTSD, some is just weird old me.
So when I got in the bathroom this morning after the boys had left I found this.
I always had to replace the soap. That was my task. When it got low, I would grab a new one. If I forgot, he would yell from the shower. During our TPE I would be punished if I forgot. Needless to say, I rarely forgot.
So this box is just one more nail in the coffin of our D/s relationship. Aside from the obvious issue of him leaving the box on the counter for me to clean up (because…men). It was just hard to see it there. Like I had failed again. Like I couldn’t take care of him. One more way I couldn’t be what he needed.
All from a bar of soap. Or at least a box that used to hold one.