Vulnerability and embarrassment

I went to my group meditation class today and I was happy to get there in amongst a very complicated schedule right now. I had made it to no ‘calming’ activities last week – not yoga or Pilates or meditation and not even much walking of the dogs. So, I felt good to be there in amongst the group. I had had a good morning and nothing was standing in my way of just “letting go” and enjoying this special hour of my week.

However, about half way through the meditation hour I began to feel unwell. I was wearing a plug and I thought it might have been about that but I used the techniques I know to talk myself through that. It wasn’t my decision (well it was but I have a good imagination and anyway, I still use techniques I have been taught) and I had to let go and accept. But, just when I thought I was getting on top of the wooziness I broke out into a sweat and I realized that I needed water. It was a very hot day, the door and windows were closed and the energy from the other people had created a still, lifeless source of air.

I tried to convince myself that I was all right. An acquaintance had recently told me of being stuck in a tunnel in rural China and feeling that he couldn’t breathe and his wife had needed to talk him through that distress. So, I reminded myself that I had enough air to breathe and tried to assure myself that I was okay. Yet, with low blood pressure I know what it is to faint and it was becoming apparent that my body was refusing to co-operate with these thoughts and I was about to keel over.

I opened my eyes and could see that the rest of the people in the room were intensely into their own thing. They had no idea of my panic and trouble and I just could not disturb the meditation. I thought of trying to race out of the room to get water but I doubted I could make it without fainting. Momentarily, I thought of lying down on the floor and lying on my side. It was exactly what I wanted to do, but I was well aware participants would ‘feel’ this movement and come to my aid.

Eventually, I moved out of the chair and sat on the floor with my back to the wall and although I was far from well, the air was a little cooler down there and over a few minutes I started to feel that I could make it through to the end of the hour. Once the teacher asked people to open their eyes, I said that I was going for water. Of course, Rebecca came after me worried as to my welfare but I assured her I was okay and I returned to the room to say my ‘goodbyes’.

On reflection, the muggy, sultry, cloudy weather we have been experiencing had put my body into a severe migraine overload which began on the weekend. On Sunday, my stress maxed out and unable to process the events around me, I did manage to save myself by heading off to a coffee shop and settling down my breathing. Alas, there was not much I could do about the dreadful pain in my head, neck and shoulders. It was not until today  that I had the good sense to put myself to bed this afternoon and later at the market, to buy myself a piece of almond nougat, and now, to drink a cup of coffee. Only migraine sufferers understand such techniques.

I have been thinking about this experience of the past few days. I went close to not being able to take care of myself and this made me feel intensely vulnerable. I was extremely embarrassed that I was unwell and extremely uncomfortable at the thought that I needed to ask for help. In fact, I could have been much more unwell – say, having a heart attack – and chances are high that I would have tried to fend for myself; to get myself home or to the hospital without seeking the help of another person.

 I think this experience plays into my whole attitude about asking for things – kinky things and any number of practical things. Being vulnerable is an emotion I fear at the same time as being a doll that is vulnerable to those that play with her, turns me on. I fear the emotion of vulnerability and I crave the emotion of vulnerability; am deeply aroused by having zero control.

I cannot explain this incongruity. I cannot explain why I try so very hard to manage so much on my own at the same time as I seek to ‘let go’ and have all control taken away. I was thrilled to discover the silence in following my breath all the way to the top and the bottom of my breath; to stop controlling my breath and letting my breathing do it all by itself. That moment occurred a few weeks ago in the very room where I felt so embarrassed and vulnerable today. That the attention of the group would be drawn towards me was something I definitely did not want. I have absolutely no desire to be the centre of attention at the same time as I crave the attention of the dominant – to be his sole focus.

It is something I don’t have a handle on. I just feel incredibly grateful to have stumbled across BDSM techniques and the opportunity to explore the side of my nature that processes humiliation and vulnerability so positively.

The caveman

In the last post I talked about my difficulties with asking or communicating with my husband about what I need and want. I think it is understood that this is a necessary skill and that it makes sense from every one's perspective for a 'bottom' to keep in touch with her 'Top'. There is a responsibility on the part of the 'bottom' to be active and not passive because only then can the 'Top' make the necessary adjustments or alterations to her life.

The fact that submission is a 'negotiation' can be overlooked and I am guilty of overlooking that fact. I think it relates to all the material I have read and all the blogs I have read where things between the Top and the bottom, or the Dominant and the submissive, or the Master and the slave have a certain rigidity to them. Somewhere in all that reading, I can simply forget that in any relationship there is going to be negotiation and why would a power exchange be any different?

In 'power exchange' relationships there is a tendency to want to be pleasing that is more profound than in most other kinds of relationships, I think. This is compounded by the sense that if one is not pleasing and does not push oneself to commit to the wants of the Dominant, there will be a sense of disappointment and failure all round. If one's body belongs to the Dominant, and that thought is often expressed in just that way, does one even have a right to say that one cannot do this or that?

No matter how hard one tries to effect the best outcomes, we are all fallible and there will be conflict. One of my commenters, rollymo, pointed out that he thinks of himself as a "caveman" and my husband does as well. He feels deeply responsible for me, the children and even his extended family and for various reasons, work and solving problems is something that he takes very seriously. On the whole, he and I are 'at one' with how we live. We decided a long time ago that I'd be the one to deal with the domesticity and children whilst he'd be responsible for bringing in the annual income.

In the movie, 'Closer', one of the characters played by Clive Owen, interrogates his partner played by Julia Roberts after she admits she had been making love with an acquaintance played by Jude Law. Julia Roberts' character is upset and guilty and she answers his questions until she becomes exasperated enough to spit out as him, "Why do you want to know?" He answers angrily, "Because I am a cave man."

I never was more attracted to Clive Owen than at that moment, the same man who minutes before had referred to himself as a "Sultan bearing gifts" when he handed his girlfriend a gorgeous pair of shoes he had brought home for her (which turned out to be a gift related to his guilt of having a one night affair himself). Something told me right then that he would stop at nothing to keep his girlfriend. And, so he did. I could sense his sense of ownership of her. I think I understood that character well because my husband has that same sense of 'ownership' about me. It is a good thing but it can lead us into the muddy waters of conflict. This is how it goes:

His worrying mind has him up late working away on matters or planning strategies which means he can gets very little sleep and I can get very little sex or attention. There have been periods of time where this can last weeks and in this case it lasted nearly six weeks. He gets more tired and I get more frustrated and upset. I cease to come to him; either to rescue him or to rescue myself. I escape into a world of my own: often a rather negative or neutral sort of world of 'endurance'. I vow not to complain or show any upset but underneath the surface, it builds. It builds despite all efforts to stop it building and eventually, when I least expect it, I blow. I express my distress.

This inappropriate expression of my distress (which could be just a few quiet words all to the way to an angry venting, or something in between) is not something he responds to well. For one thing, he can't understand why I waited so long to express my distress. He can't see why I don't come and tell him how I am not coping. For another thing, he never accepts this sort of behaviour from me and at first blush what he wants is an apology about my behaviour before he will consent to discuss anything he might have done. This can leave me confused, frustrated and in despair as to how misunderstood I am; how the energy is going into all the wrong places. Later, I can see that I approached it the wrong way but at the time I feel that the issue is about his bruised ego rather than addressing the problem at hand.

It must always be remembered that perfectionists don't like making mistakes and they don't like criticisms of their behaviour. They are inclined to 'shoot the messenger'. I equate it to slaying the person who should even suggest that their behaviour is flawed. Perfectionists can be angry with the person who would do such a thing and one's girl is particularly marked for an Exocet missile because she should know better. It is just not the way she should talk to him, he feels. And in any case, does she not realize that he is a caveman, doing his caveman thing: looking after her!!

I can rationalize all this; write it out coherently. But, I assure you that when I am put upon at such times, I am incredibly, inconsolably upset. I spoke about this response to my psychologist and told her that in my mind I escape; I am there in body but not in spirit. I find anger directed towards me by a person acting as a dominant to be a very scary phenomena.

In my opinion, this earthy, dominant, 'deeply connected to his girl' caveman sort of personality requires a rather resilient and naturally submissive girl. She needs to have some sort of innate sense of what things between them are all about and she needs to be active in her submission: willing to come to him and negotiate and communicate her needs; to maintain the connection; to understand the way his mind works and his motivations and dare I say, obsessive, perfectionist traits.

In my particular situation, there are several reasons for maintaining the mindset of a 'doll'. Without that mindset I struggle a bit as a human being because the doll allows my sexual state to be a part of my day and my every day; she gives me a positive and relaxed state of mind. She makes me glow and she keeps me happy. But more than that, she is the perfect complement to the caveman state of mind. He wants to protect his girl and he expects that she will support him. Anything less than this and he is in turmoil; unable to nurture. The bond between them is temporarily broken and they are both in pain.

When I was introduced to the dolli within me - to cindi - it felt right, right away. Lost in the mindset of cindi, I am blissfully happy. My husband is blissfully happy. We fit together.When cindi is not present in my day and in my life, I struggle to deal with a husband who is a caveman; a perfectionist; a worrier; a perpetual talker; a man who thrives on a deep and sustaining connection with his girl; a naturally dominant man who married, quite purposely I believe, a quiet, gentle, giving, submissive type of girl. When cindi is present, nothing is too much trouble; the sun perpetually shines; the caveman is appropriate and pleasing. cindi understands that it is her role to counterbalance the cave man; to give; to feed; to nurture and listen; to love unselfishly and unconditionally.

cindi does not worry. This is the perfect antidote to a caveman who spends a good deal of his time, day and night, worrying. cindi is always appreciated and welcome by both of us.

The vital ingredient

My husband's desire for BDSM containment practices waxes and wanes. The times he binds me in some way are rare and tend to relate to a time when I am "used". I'd prefer it otherwise. I love those evenings when he comes into the bedroom and I am already in bed and he ties my wrists together for the whole night, for example. He might go back to his study for a few hours but the benefits for me are considerable, even when I am alone. I sleep extraordinarily blissfully when constrained in some way and I get the pleasure of being sexually aroused all night but without anything that I can possibly do about it (sort of). For reasons that can't be well explained, the fact that he has chosen to do this for me and to me fills me with a deep sense of being loved.

Every now and then, he ties my wrists together and then my ankles and then some rope between my wrists and ankles. In this way, I am in the foetal position on my side, my left hand side if you prefer more detail, and in this position and after several hours, I am not at all comfortable. Yet, I am entirely comfortable really, comfortable in my discomfort and I find this position deeply, deeply arousing. I sleep well but fitfully. I drift in and out of a sexual sort of consciousness whereby I am aware of every fibre of my being. My head is full of sexual sensation but not a thought can really be produced. I am simply, a sexual object.

Maybe only a handful of times, he has bound my whole middle section of my body, just as Popeye did for Olive Oil, round and round my body with the rope. This is quite marvellous. I get to watch him at work, which I love. From a farm and an able seaman he is perfectly at home handling rope and I find watching him quite hypnotic.

Busy as he is, occupied with many business projects at once, I rather doubt that he has much notion that I would dearly, dearly loved to be tied up and that tonight would be good. I don't think that thought has entered his radar. I know, and I know full well that I would only need to walk into his study later this evening, or mention to him on the couch when we have a cup a tea after dinner that I would love to be all tied up in bed this evening and he would do this for me. If I were to ask nicely...not complain that it has been a while or anything vaguely closely to any sort of criticism...I feel almost certain that he would do this for me. My happiness is something that he wants for sure.

And yet, I cannot guarantee you, sitting here at my desk in amongst making the dinner that I can do this. It seems agony to have to ask for the things I want. I can't think of anything harder. What's hard about it, you may well ask.

May I please have a spanking?
Would you please bind my wrists together tonight?
Could you please come to bed and use me?

They are simple sentences. I don't think he would say "no" especially since he knows how hard it is for me to ask him for these things.

But, why? Why is it so hard?

As irrational and just plain dumb as this is going to sound, I am going to say it anyway. The reason I find it almost impossible to ask for anything is because in my heart of hearts I believe that if he loved me enough, he would do these things for me without me needing to ask for them. He would be aware of the distress it causes me for him to not do them and he would come to me of his own volition and contain me; correct me; love me. When he doesn't come to me to do those activities that I associate with love and care, I feel abandoned and rejected. To come to him is to acknowledge that abandonment and intense vulnerability that it is to be me.

Yes, those feelings would disappear the moment he resolved the situation by responding to my request. Yes, I can resolve non-compliance by "getting off my bimbo haunches and executing", for example. But, I often feel on my own and on my own it can be easier to wallow in a sense of lack of love than it can be to solve the problem. I like to be forced to do things because I interpret the force as love and care. He cares enough to enforce the requirement. I matter. I matter to him.

On the weekend my husband spanked me quite firmly and shortly after that in the car on the way to do an errand together he said, "You really liked that spanking, didn't you? It has settled you." I am not great at talking to him about my responses and I simply said, "I haven't made a secret of the fact that spankings make me happy." The spanking did indeed carry me through the day happily. Even being told to mind my manners makes me feel loved (so long as he is not angry with me. I deplore anger directed at me.)

This incredibly profound sense of vulnerability inside of me has roots so deep within my psyche that I can tap into them but do nothing to alter them. I am capable of feeling enriched; loved; adored; wanted but at the same time I can question what is lovable about me. It is a horrible sense of being unworthy; different; not good enough that I fight with most days.

Then, I am used or corrected or contained; loved; and the sunshine comes out. I beam with pleasure; find love and light in everything I see and touch; feel an immense sense of love inside of me and surrounding me. I feel worthy of the attention and love.

This 'asking' business is that important; a skill I must hone. Nothing could be more important to my state of mind.

And while I am on a roll...

I've just finished the first subject of the writing course; as in, just posted my last module and responded to other responses from classmates. One of the gals noted that Bart and I seemed made for one another - had moved onto the next stage of writing, which is to use one another to make editorial changes; to respectfully convince one another that the other needs to make changes/improvements.   I responded that I had set my sights on Bart from the get go. Okay, Bart was the only male, but that is not the only reason. Bart is irreverent. Bart loves to tell jokes and most important of all, Bart likes to laugh and have FUN!

Having fun in a D/s relationship is probably the most important thing of all. Having fun in LIFE is probably the most important thing of all. It is why I watch the 'Big Bang Theory' most nights with my boys; because Sheldon makes me laugh.

cindi can be really silli; dumdum; an airhead. But, cindi has a blast. cindi has lots and lots of fun; giggling away madly...yes, sometimes even at her own jokes. She is ditzi. She can't even spell! But, here's the thing: She doesn't care.

Sure, sometimes a D/s relationship  is all business; sometimes things are serious. But, laughing is very good therapy for the soul. Try it. You'll see what I mean. Well, Bart gets it...

An update: The search for peace of mind

I have just said goodnight to my teenage son who is struggling with obsessive thoughts related to his perfectionism. He shared with me that twice this weekend his mind had locked in on a single issue related to his study that had him searching for the perfect answer relentlessly whilst precious time to attend to all the other work was lost.

We talked about that; that there is more than one way to solve a problem in most cases; that he doesn't need to feel alone when he could have asked me for help; for a friend for help; anything but sit there and worry. It is harder now because exams are just a few days away and that means the stress in his life is increasing, and the stress makes it all the more likely that he will have an urge to obsess about the fact that something or other is not perfect.

I did my best to to turn the situation into a positive outcome: better that it happened over the weekend and now he can remind himself in the exams NOT to do what he did at home; remind himself that he can move on with the exam. Once his mind is more relaxed having done more of the paper, he might well find that the missing fact that was bothering him just comes to him all on its own.

Finally, I sent him off to sleep with a meditative script that I pretty much have learned by heart now. He was instructed to think about his feet in the bed, his fingers, his head - to notice how they felt; not to judge the thought in any way but simply to notice. I find myself altering the script now and I had him focus more on his breath. I told him to let go; that there was no more worry today; that it was time to go to sleep; to let go and allow his mind to drift.

"Right here, right now, all is well in my world."

I repeated that several times, gave him a hug, rubbed his head, kissed him and repeated the mantra again several times before I left the room.

"Right here, right now, all is well in my world."

With a mind that can focus on worry I know what he is going through and I know too how to encourage him to "let go", in the same way that I encourage you to let go; as I encourage myself here, right now, to "let go".

This is what 'bimbohood' is all about. This is why I do what I do. The search for peace - for my own peace and for the peace of those I care about - is my purpose.