A little compassion and a salted caramel chocolate.

I had an intense kinky long weekend, so now I have to write about subdrop. *sigh*

Subdrop is a subset (heh) of endorphin crash; see also "top drop." See also "event drop" or "con drop," after the wild activity of a long-anticipated convention or festival is over. Tuesday is a good day for drop. On Monday I was catching back up with my sweet regular life, reconnecting with my beloved nestmate, Mr. Darkness, and having a cozy TV night together. Then on Tuesday afternoon, when I should have been hotly productive, I began to flounder. That was when the bleak mood of exhausted despair set in. Everything I tried to work on was terrible. My body was terrible. Oh hello, I said to my inner monster: I see what you're trying to do. Nice fucking try.

Is it like a hangover, I ask myself -- have I been "in my addict"? Should I be shunning all extreme activities, all highs that lead to lows, any ecstatic flight that might end in a crash?

Sure, probably. But then what is the point; why would I engineer a smooth, even life without any peaks of joy? Besides, there is a serenity after the crash. On Wednesday I felt so happy about my regular life, my beloved Mr. D, my TV nights and writerly days. It was the fresh clear feel of the air after a rainstorm. (A cool-weather rainstorm, not one of these DC summer squalls that throws its humidity right back into the air.) I'm not jonesing for the next roller-coaster ride. I'm calm.

Scolding myself for a BDSM extravagance that leaves me bruised, scratched, and needing aftercare -- when I would not scold myself for getting worn out and bashed up by, say, hiking up a mountain -- this is the voice of my Harsh Superego. (q.v. last week's quote-arama: "Your inner critic is a boring person you wouldn't want to talk to at a party." -- Tavi Gevinson.) My monster is judging my escapades against some puritanical ethic that I do not believe in and never did.

The critic-beast is loudest when I have few external supports, because I am being unorthodox. Mr. Darkness wasn't in on my weekend jaunt, so I don't want to be needy with him afterward. He doesn't tend to seek out such extreme sensations. He does get gloomy, of course, but he is more likely to view it instrumentally: What are you depressed about? Whereas my own moods are more closely chemical: what interior stew or storm is waking the monster? Hormones, endorphins, blood sugar level? All of these in synergy?

Having my dom hurt me (which sated his own ferocious needs, temporarily) and make me cry, and make me come, and take care of me afterward... It wasn't that I just needed the snuggly aftercare; I needed all the parts of it. The ordeal, the catharsis, the ecstatic transcendent state, and then also the cuddles -- feeling loved, feeling brave, feeling like we'd done something hard and amazing together.

But my dom and I are long-distance, and so we have an energetic weekend together and then part ways. When the crash comes, like it did on Tuesday afternoon, I am alone.

Here is my self-care for subdrop: Texting with my dom. Making evening TV/cuddle plans with Mr. D. Napping, or at least curling up with a book and a blanket. A wank. Some chocolate. A wank and a nap. More chocolate! A hot shower, my "fuzzy" music (cheer-me-up playlist), and the knowledge that I am loved and cared for.

Then, if I've done my self-care and I still can't concentrate on my intellectual labors: time for some dumb, grubby physical exercise. Do the dishes, wash the kitchen floor, run the vacuum cleaner. For silencing my Harsh Superego, it can be anything as long as it empirically Needs Doing. It doesn't have to be a top priority chore, just do a chore.

My body is valid. My needs are valid. My desires are valid. If you have always known these things about yourself, then it may seem silly to spell them out, but even now I have difficulty believing them. Many of us have been punished for having desires. Our bodies are policed. We are discouraged from appetites, encouraged to put everyone else's needs before our own. To do otherwise can be hard, can feel risky and unsupported. I am doing it anyway.

I do have the courage of my convictions. I remind my inner scold that I am not buying its hypothetical puritan value system; I'm not here to feed the patriarchy, nor the machinery of capitalism. I'm here for joy, love, art, and exhilaration. And dark chocolate with salted caramel.

What do you do for subdrop or event drop? What's your favorite chocolate or other treat? Comment below! You can also catch me at @dirty_sober on Twitter.