Re: Therapy - the mental battle as well -- Doctors who made House Calls Forum

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Subject: Re: Therapy - the mental battle as well

Author:
AV

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Date Posted: Wednesday, July 10, 2024, 04:23: am
In reply to: AV 's message, "Therapy" on Friday, June 07, 2024, 08:28: am

Reflecting back to what was going through my mind as I set on the toilet after given an enema by mom. I can vividly remember thinking about how I was going to release the enema solution without it causing me pain. Remember, the whole point of me holding was due to the pain relating to having a BM. So here I am being forced on the toilet against my will with warm soapy water now in me. There were times I would be crying as well. I just experienced something I did not want. Now I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fight these urges for long but I never felt safe enough to just release. I always held on even after crying “i gotta go i gotta go” over mom’s lap. It was almost like i was still trying to have some control of an uncomfortable situation. I thought I could release a little warm soapy water at a time and eventually empty the warm soapy water out of me and still win this battle without actually having a BM. Never worked. I did relax enough for some warm soapy water to come out but two things were happening that at my young immature age I didn’t realize. One, I was basically coating myself with the warm soapy water making a slippery runway for this 747. Two, the longer I held it, the longer time it had to work on me and soften the BM. The enema wasn’t just soapy water, it was warm soapy warm. Never hot, but very very warm. So that warm mixture of soapy water was softening the BM the longer I held it fighting against my every will of wanting to not release it. So I was really doing the work for the enema and doing mom a favor and not even realizing it at the time. After maybe a couple of releases of warm soapy water, the BM dropped lower into my colon and was ready to be released and I was losing control of releasing any more warm soapy water without the BM coming out. I had to simply take a deep breath and I was expecting pain and nothing else. But that is not what happened. I took a deep breath, gripped the side of the toilet, lifted my legs out, and relaxed to release what was already making its way out of me because I had lost control. Everything in me, the rest of the warm soapy water first came out, then the baseball bat BM like a freight train. I was in this shock mode of releasing my breath, still gripping the toilet, body lifted and feet out, as everything in me just came flowing out. When I lowered myself down, I was breathing for air because it was so traumatic as I literally felt the BM move through my colon and out of me like a snake. It always completely emptied me. Mom always stayed standing by the sink cleaning up waiting and always said, “That wasn’t so bad was it?” I always wanted to say, “yes, yes it was bad.” But I dared not give her another reason to put me back over her lap. I wanted this all over. I can remember my stomach was completely empty and I could suck my stomach in like it was touching my backbone. I was taking deep breaths trying to catch my breath. I was also always so exhausted that a nap was in my near future afterwards. Enemas for me just wasn’t a physical battle with mom and with my body but a mental battle with my thoughts that I always lost.

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[> Subject: Re: Therapy - That bulb - bottom relationship

Author:
AV
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Date Posted: Friday, July 12, 2024, 03:58: am

All of this writing has been really good therapy for me. I know many probably think I have a mental issue but the truth is there is no doubt I was traumatized with all I went through with mom’s soapy enemas to my brothers holding me to even all the mental imaginations I had with the bulb. Amazing how young I was and believed that bulb was smiling at me and how i always believed that bulb and my bottom had a relationship I was always trying to break up. And then one day there I was sneaking the bulb and approving of this bond.
Let me take a moment to reflect.
Mom would bring the bulb and a mason jar into the bathroom during my bath. The mason jar was full of warm soapy water and the bulb was also full and ready to go. Mom would tell me to get out and try to go and she would soon return. I would sit for a minute and stare at the bulb believing it was smiling back. I always believed the bulb knew regardless of what I did or tried, it was going to have its way and have its relationship with my bottom with the help of mom and sometimes my brothers. I would get out and sit on the toilet and try to go. Moments later mom would enter.
From ages 5 to 12 years old, at least once a week, sometimes more, I put up a losing battle as that bulb was able to shoot its warm soapy water right into me.
It smiled and had a good time as it watched me struggle releasing the warm soapy water and BM as mom washed and cleaned it up since its job was done until next time.
I always believed as well that the bulb’s home was in my bottom not in that mason jar. The mental battle was real not wanting that bulb in me even though my bottom looked forward to it. Many a tears, crying, pleading, begging, swinging the arms, reaching back, kicking the feet, struggling and resisting all to no avail as that bulb watched from that sink counter smiling simply waiting for mom to get me under control or my brothers to be called in. When I was over mom’s lap finally and mom reached for the bulb, it beamed with joy. As it was gleaming, I was becoming lively as well. Oh, as the soapy tip touched and made its way, I could eventually feel the bulb itself made flush contact to my skin letting me know it was in all the way. Mom squeezed the bulb and the bulb released its warm soapy water so radiantly inside of me, all I knew in my mind was I did not want it inside of me. I had a lot of cries, “get it out! get it out! That’s enough!” If I could, I reached back or kicked my feet. The bulb just smiled knowing its job wasnt done and there was more to come. That bulb made sure it sucked that warm soapy water and suds up on that second fill from the jar. Oh did I cry as it easily made its return to its favorite home and released it’s warm soapy water, “I gotta go! I gotta go! Let me up! I gotta go.”
The bulb always had that good satisfied feeling of a job well done when it was all over and done letting me know it was in charge and can and will with pleasure go into my bottom when needed.
And now at 12 years old, I am sneaking that bulb believing I can’t have a BM without it. My mind finally giving in to that bulb-bottom relationship that was always meant to be.

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