Basically, the problem is this. I am a young submissive, with a young son. I have been through a lot of abuse in every form, as has my Dom, who is 30 years older than me. The end result is that whilst both of us have a chance to really recover together, living in an ideal home with a wonderful baby boy and a promising future, we have these fights. They usually go like this; 1 - I say something that comes across the wrong way, or I do or say something that makes Sir feel like he's not being listened to. 2 - He gets upset, defensive or angry, usually after a period of calmly trying to resolve things, because he feels things simply aren't getting resolved to his satisfaction. 3 - I get upset because I feel I'm under attack, and eventually get defensive myself. I shut down and become very cruel and detached, and often end up doing a lot of damage. Lately, we've been doing better, making some real progress overall, but the fights are coming more frequently. It's not as much of a problem in some ways because we're now better at dealing with them, but other times...like tonight...are torturous. We watched a film together tonight, and it was a serious film with some nice eye-candy. He made constant sex-jokes, even when I was trying to be serious, which frustrated me. He was pretty good about it, and later made a point of saying "it's not all about sex and boobs" after he'd complimented me on my 'assets' to try and be good. I told him, not unkindly, and in conjuncture with a cuddle, and it did feel that way sometimes, like it was all about sex. Not often, and it didn't bother me too much, but sometimes that was just the way it felt. He was hurt, and I tried to explain what I'd meant, and that it wasn't a big deal. In doing so, I came across as defensive and dismissive, like I was saying it was all his fault and I was upset but it didn't matter and there was nothing he could do. That wasn't my intention, far from it, and I wasn't aware that this was how I was coming across. We were pretty good, there was a lot of give and take, but there were lots of little points like that, where I was making mistakes and saying things I shouldn't have said, or in the wrong way and giving the wrong impression. He didn't point these out as they occurred (which he has promised to do) but instead bottled them up and got frustrated eventually. At the end of the day, he believes the problem is that I get too defensive too easily (and whether I do it intentionally/knowingly or not is completely irrelevant, which makes me feel horribly trapped and doomed) and that I don't listen (even when I do all the techniques he's taught me to in the past to show that I AM listening, which again makes me feel a little like I'm being tried for something after a sentence has been decided). But, strangely enough, the arguments aren't the real problem. The REAL problem is the fact that we're so good in-between. I know everyone says that, but we are; I've never been happier, and he in all his 50+ years of life has never known contentment, peace and happiness like he knows with me. The fights are horrific, but we both know and have already agreed that they are only so bad because we think once it starts that we're going to loose something so good, and it snowballs out of fear; we both want to be the one who breaks free first and blows the other away, neither of us wants to be hurt anymore. And because of that, we are both horribly defensive, and cruel when we distance ourselves, and we both turn it inward afterwards; he convinces himself I'm going to kick him out, and I start to feel I really truly am so terrible, as bad as all the things he says I am. Tonight got super heated because I left the room to sleep in the living room, realized I'd left my pillow and went back for it, and the fight resumed when I entered the room. He stormed out to go and read his book in the living room, which of course put him on the sofa I was planning to sleep on and pissed me off even more, so we were sat there tired and fighting for even longer. Throughout all of this, I keep telling him to keep his voice down because the baby is asleep in the next room, and the one thing that he does not ever fuck with, the one true hard and fast limit that we abide by, is that he doesn't mess with my ability to look after my son. My word on what goes in regards to my little one is law above all others. That was his idea and enforced by him. Eventually the fight got to breaking point, he was shouting his head off and I told him to keep his voice down once again. He asked why he should bother, and didn't care when I pointed out that it was because of the baby. I flew off the handle at that point and hit him on the head with an (intentionally chosen) thin paper-back book. But the fact was, I went for him. I hit him in anger. I shouldn't have done that. And now I'm sitting here sobbing hysterically with bottles of bleach and white spirit beside me because I honestly want nothing more than to kill myself. I know, logically that I don't, that it's a bad choice, that even this fight will be overcome and probably will be the one that I need to really kick me into shape to start making real progress towards stopping the fights. But I just...I can't help it. I want to kill myself so badly. I feel sick. I can't breath. I can't even see; I've touch typed this whole thing, so if my spelling's appauling forgive me. I just...I feel like I'm dying. My heart hurts, my chest feels tight. I honestly think I'm going to have a heart attack. I wanna kill myself just to stop feeling so bad. I don't know what to do. I can't leave my son, but I don't think I can stand feeling like this anymore.