Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Training and growing up

A good 'slave' friend of mine and I were having a long chat recently. The conversation ranged over a diverse range of topics. Being a slave and living the life of a slave much longer than I have even known about this sort of thing, I give consideration to all that she has to say. She's a bright girl and she's thought long and hard about all these topics. She says she learns from me but I never walk away from a conversation from her feeling uneducated.

The conversation turned to 'obedience' and she was telling me that whilst doing certain daily tasks for her Master was difficult in the beginning, they have become simply the way she lives. She had been trained and she now felt no resistance to these rules and regulations. In fact, she didn't even think about them at all. She just did them as she would brush her teeth before she went to bed. It was just life.

For reasons unknown my mind went to cooking. Perhaps ten years ago, after cooking a zillion meals for the family I sort of 'jacked up' (Is that another peculiar Australian expression? It means I went on strike.) I started to complain and wanted to know why it was solely my responsibility to provide the meals. We had a few weeks of restlessness about it. On occasion, I'd be slow to get the meal prepared and seemingly blissfully unaware of the revolution going on, he'd stay in his study and work (or read, or watch the news, or whatever). Of course, I had to allow for four hungry children as well as him and so at about 7.30 pm I went in there once or twice and said something like, "I wonder how long you'd stay in here and wait for someone to call you to say that your meal was on the table. At what point would your hunger take over?"

He explained the game plan. If I needed an ingredient which I had forgotten to buy, he'd go get it.Or, if I needed his help from time to time I was welcome to make out a list and he'd go to the grocery store for me. If (and he was really referring to a weekend night) I asked him nicely, he'd go pick up some Chinese food. But besides that, the food for the family was my job and the sooner I accepted that the better we would all be.

The laying down of the rules and the realization that he had no intention whatsoever of changing his mind meant that eventually I just accepted the situation as law. I obeyed and made the dinner without complaint thereafter.

Do I always do so without thinking about it? I would not say that. My mind often goes to the fact that I am contained within that rule; that I might feel like complaining a bit but I know that the results won't be to my liking and so I don't complain. This is not to say that I don't often enjoy making the meal. Cooking is a way to show your creativity and I am a 'scratch cook'. I make the meals from first principles with loads of vegetables and healthy ingredients. I take pride in the fact that we sit down as a family each night and eat a healthy meal; discuss the events of the day. We are all winners according to this rule.

I'm  not at all displeased to be contained within that rule. On some level I am conscious of enjoying that I know the lay of the land and that things are decided. One of the arguments he gave at the time was that I expect him to do certain things without complaint and he expected me to do this chore without complaint. That's fair.

Now please don't misunderstood me or be at all offended when I say that there are many things that submissive gals and 'slaves' do that we don't and won't incorporate into our lives. My husband would have enormous difficulty in doing something that didn't seem natural and I think I would too. I'm not going to greet him at the door naked on my knees. People come and go from this house at their leisure. There is just no way that either of us would ever relax long enough to do that knowing that some adult child is about to turn the key in the lock. Even if they weren't here, I just can't see it. He'd never think to ask that of me and so it would seem staged to both of us. Of course, one should never use the word "never"!

Yet, he does have his expectations. He isn't the least inclined to want to hear me use any swear words. (He once read the blog and saw that I had used a swear word and told me to delete it at once.) He expects politeness at all times. He does not care to be criticized. If I want something of him, or for him to do something he will happily listen at the appropriate time but he doesn't want to hear any frustration in my voice. He wants an attitude of working together to achieve the things I want. And, if he says "no" or he can't do it yet or he can't afford it yet, that's the way it goes. I have to understand he is doing his best and he has our best interests at heart.

At times, he has rejected my opinions and ideas only to tell me later that I was right. This is frustrating. Why lie about that? It's hard to have a good idea summarily rejected. But, if you look at the overall game plan, we've done well and we live well.

I mentioned to my friend that within the D/s relationship I had lost much of the sense that I used to have that I was sometimes a "little girl".  She told me that I had evolved and that was why the little girl had gone. I knew how to obey now. I was trained. (Correct me A if I don't have the right tenor of your words there.)

On some level, the thought is appealing; that I am trained now; that I can't make mistakes any more; that I just do as I am trained to do. I do do something daily that I enjoy to do. Only very recently has it become the norm for me to comply, almost without thinking. I've discovered enough times that it is detrimental to me not to do the task daily to understand that it is easier to do it and get on with my day (or night) than to be resistant to that knowledge. It is the way I live now.

And yet, I miss the "little girl" quite profoundly. I heard an old podcast recently about the "Daddy" status and whilst I've never entirely bought into that word or the implications of it, I do love the concept that a girl is treasured and taken care of, as well as having expectations of her. In my fantasies my Daddy is no push over. He doesn't hand over a few hundred bucks for me to go squander. On occasion he may treat his girl, but he is strict. His girl achieves. His girl does as told. (You might like to check out the Agnes and Frederick story if you like that sort of thing). The point is, she gets to be small. She gets to goof off a bit at times and is calmly but determinedly brought back into line (okay, occasionally he brings out a strap or something but it is rare and done with love.)

I think what I love about the "little girl" is that little girls are always loved and forgiven by their Daddies. They may be naughty and they may disobey but it is not fatal. A hiding isn't fatal. And, he'll hug her after and tell her it hurt him more than it hurt her. And, she'll sob and tell him that she is so sorry to have disappointed him and she'll try never to do it again. He has to correct her bur he never stops loving her. Do you see how comforting this concept is? (My husband sometimes says to me, "You are very cute, little girl." and I adore that.)

Does the man who Tops a girl, who sets the rules down and ensures they are enforced and punishes (perhaps by withdrawing from her) when they are not obeyed go on caring for the girl? And, if she does comply regularly and repeatedly, is he careful not to be too complacent about that? I might make the meal without resistance but that doesn't mean I don't hope that someone might say, "This is delicious!" I might do my daily task without question but that does not mean I don't hope that I may still receive some praise for doing so. If the praise and pampering should dry up when the girl is trained, well then...I don't particularly want to grow up.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

HIghly sensitive people

Psychologists tend to disagree about how to categorize people like me who are supposedly "highly sensitive". We are the type of people who can be overwhelmed by the senses. If there is too much noise we tend to close down or to head to a quiet and preferably dark room. We tend to take in the world in an intense way and the sight or sound of something can be extra offensive to us or alternatively it can move us in profound ways.

With children, educators like to use desensitization. Therefore, if a child is struggling to be around disruptive children, or loud and extroverted children, they might throw him into a drama group where he can 'desensitize' from the discomfort of that situation.

To some extent, this works. My husband and I had a quick meal out before seeing  a movie last night and whilst he went to the bathroom and I paid, I said to the cashier girl, "Are you aware of how loud it is in here or do you zone it out?" "Oh, I can't hear it," she responded. "I'm in my own little bubble. Does it bother you?" "Sometimes," I responded. "But, I'm learning to be in my own little bubble too."

In a situation with my husband I can reach my elastic limit due to this high sensitivity to the senses. I'm not always comfortable with different sensations occurring on top of one another or at the same time. If you take this morning, I took all sorts of discomfort and sensations for two hours without a hint of complaint until  I got a hard whack of the tawse on my ass at the same time as he asked me to lay on my stomach and "put your hands between your legs and play with yourself". Instantly, I had reached my limit. The sting of the tawse at the same moment as I was asked to do something supposedly pleasurable was the straw that broke the camel's back. It took quite some time to get over that high sensitivity to that sensation. Once the senses have reached 'high alert' they stay up there for quite some time.

Life for the highly sensitive person needs to be navigated with some care. It's one thing to expect us to be in a situation with loud noise but quite another to be subjected to listening to awful and awfully loud 'music' at the same time as expecting us to talk. Or to ask us to enjoy making a meal while Bart Simpson and other equally painful sounding characters talk in the background. People assure me that if I ever listened to the dialog I would appreciate it as funny and clever but I can't get past their dreadful speaking voices to even entertain the idea of hearing what they have they to say. Are you getting the picture of what it is to be a 'highly sensitive person'?

Perhaps this is partly why I adore the idea of sensory deprivation. The idea of having my entire head covered in latex and being asked to do nothing but stay still and take it sounds like heaven to me. Sometimes, I choose to limit my words for a day. I say only that which is absolutely necessary in order to settle my system down; to find my 'center', as the meditation people like to say. My daily ritual is all about settling me down too. It's an experience that demands that I be somewhat reflective of my status and whilst doing that, other issues pale into insignificance. There are ancillary benefits too, of course. It is highly pleasurable and highly pleasurable too to know that I'm following prescribed protocols.

Each day now, I meditate. My new meditation teacher didn't give us a choice about that and I've found it amazing to take that 10 minutes or so each day and empty my head of thoughts. I wrap a beautiful, pashmina shawl around me (my son brought it back from Nepal for me so it is very special to me) and I sit cross legged and focus on my breathing, repeating a certain word over and over that takes me to a very 'dumdum' place.

I think I was meant to live a rather sheltered life under the wing of a cerebral, infinitely wise and patient man; the sort of man who calmly steered me back to 'centre' each time I strayed away from the path that was best for me - a narrow road but a road just meant for me. My husband does this for me in his own way, for sure, but in an ideal world he'd have more focus for it; stronger/intenser and more regular reminders. I've thought a lot about a M/s lifestyle lately. I've been reading about how one can love a woman but that the M/s dynamic always remains the same and I find that very appealing. This sort of constancy would settle my senses and emotions; allow me to navigate through life with certainty.

I am most happy when I can feel  constancy of his control over me and that he is enjoying that. I am most happy when I am aware of my place in the our shared dynamic and reminders of that place are bountiful. It settles my sensitive senses and makes me feel cherished; loved; safe and secure. In a world that constantly plays havoc with my senses, a contained life is a blessing for me.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Reading dreams

I managed to recall the happenings of a dream. The dream occurred two nights ago and when I woke I could remember it in some detail, which is very rare for me now. Alas, it wasn't a happy dream. I've been thinking about it on and off, trying to understand it.

It was a rather simple dream and probably happened within a few seconds. It was, fundamentally, an email, or maybe it was a long google chat message; one or the other.

It seems clear that I had done something to piss the man off. He was really angry with me. His language was intense and for him, it was verbose. (I had a sense of who the message was from although no evidence that I could point to in the dream.) This was a message of two or three long paragraphs making note of all my transgressions; all the ways that I had let him down.

I cannot remember everything he wrote; not even close because nowadays I really do need my reading glasses to read the screen comfortably and in the dream I was having trouble making out all the words. However, I do recall that he said something like, "Sure, this is a M/s relationship but you are incapable of obedience and time and time again you have let yourself down..." I recall that particularly because I never ever thought of myself as being in a M/s situation so I thought it pretty amazing that he said that.

Then, at the very end of the message he wrote something about the fact that he had had enough of me. And, when he said all that he wanted to say, he didn't say anything like, "Goodbye and good wishes". He said, "The end." I don't think you can get any more definite and final than those words and that is what he wrote.

The dream woke me instantly and I lay there thinking about what I had done. It took me quite some time before I could convince myself that I had received no such message. It all seemed so real and my sense of an 'out of body/confused experience seemed so real too.

I felt rejected; dejected; an abject failure and for a time I berated myself that I had behaved so badly as for this to be the outcome. Finally, I convinced myself the experience was nothing more than a dream conjured out of my own head.

I think the dream relates to a number of issues actually; a bunch of insecurities and little worries that my mind must have held onto and then decided it would expunge by dreaming them away. I won't bore you by going into all that here except to say that I felt myself torn by opposing thoughts.

In the same way as I wrestle with the value of being completely truthful versus the notion of keeping my own council and sorting out my issues myself so as not to bother the dominant, so I wrestle with the disparate ideas of forging a treasured relationship with the dominant versus the fear that to expose myself for all that I am - (the strengths and the weaknesses) is to expose myself to his ultimate judgement that I don't measure up. It can seem such a fine line between a truly special bond and a bond that is torn asunder and that can relate (in my subconscious mind) to the fact that I am not necessarily aware of my mistakes and thus they can occur randomly and spontaneously; almost out of the blue. The opportunities to not impress can seem infinite.

Of course, this all speaks to my fragility; something I try never to put on show (outside of these pages) and to my inner knowledge that I have so much to learn. Oddly, the dream has encouraged me to behave well and to do those things that allow me to take care of myself to the best of my ability, not so much because I believe I can expect such an angry message from anyone at all, but because the sheer possibility of it has me preparing for its outcome in order to contain the devastating impact.

Monday, February 20, 2012

What comes naturally

I've a very dear online friend who keeps a fascinating online journal about her thoughts and explorations. Lately, she's become more bold and honest, not just with readers but with herself and she's discovering and accepting things about herself at a fast rate.

In the past few days, she embraced the sadistic tendencies in herself and I think if you read her writing about that , the energy and electricity, the hunger and appetite will be easily discernible. I recognized a persistence, a control and a demanding force that I've read a few times before in sadist's words when they play with a submissive who wants to be played with just as badly. It's the yin and yan of two complementary souls and takes place when the hunger between them is palpable and irresistible.

On reading the post, I sat back and tried hard to find any sadistic tendencies in myself. I thought. And, I thought again. But, nothing. I have absolutely no desire for physical or emotional sadism of anyone. I'm completely unqualified for the job.

And, then I thought, that maybe that 'there's nothing there' feeling  I had is what so many women have if asked to locate submissive tendencies within themselves. They might try to imagine pleasure in being controlled, reduced, spanked, told off, set a task, told to do something they don't want to do and find that nothing is there: no pleasure in those thoughts whatsoever.

Here's a secret: When given a direction, I often question it. Of course, I understand the directive. But, I get such a buzz out of hearing on the other end his slight annoyance at the need for clarification. But, I want to feel the control; the fact that a directive is a directive whether I like it or not; that I'm the lucky one that gets to be directed.

So, the thought of giving a direction to someone does nothing for me and perhaps this is unfortunate on some level, but it is the way it is. We aren't doing something here that we have to work to do. We do what comes naturally; what turns us on and makes us feel complete. We are exploring the length and breadth of our sexuality and that's a good thing.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Thoughts on androgyny

The research that I did on marriage and power exchange introduced me to many new thoughts and some new people. It cemented in my mind that there is no magic to gender. Dominance is not a masculine trait nor submissiveness a feminine trait necessarily.

Eve Ensler, author of the Vagina Monologues had me listening carefully to her when she said in an interview this week that she loves that state of androgyny when female meets male; that state which is neither one thing nor the other.

With those thoughts in my mind, I found the conversation with a close friend to be extraordinarily staid. Her niece has just married well (i.e. his family has plenty of money) and she said that her sister was acting like Mrs Bennett (of Pride and Prejudice) and summing up the men in town in terms of their suitability for marriage. This behaviour was making my friend feel that her daughters (in their late 20s) had 'missed the boat' and were destined for "spinsterhood".

I suggested to her that there seemed to be two streams of thought now: the holding onto conservatism whereby a daughter should settle down and find herself a suitable husband to sire her children and keep them living comfortably and safely, and a much more fluid society where such a notion was much less important and/or required.

Certainly, if you look at the statistics, marriage rates are dropping but the number of people in de facto relationships is not and it seems that the vast majority of us still look for a mate with which to live and share our lives.

Builders and developers continue to make small one bedroom apartments at an increasing rate, holding onto the belief that many of us will be single dwellers for at least a time. Perhaps, this is a trend towards not necessarily needing a relationship at all. An airline pilot friend of ours told me that in Japan not one of his crew was in a relationship. Beautiful air flight attendants were, rather than having a boyfriend or husband, making sex dates with no intention of pursuing the association further than fulfilling their sexual needs.

With all this in mind, I sometimes go searching for some dominance in myself. Maybe I would like to get on top of someone in some small way. Well, obviously, like anyone else, I try to get people to co-operate with me to get things done. To that end, I want my way. I'm going to point out if someone is overcharging me or if they are doing something in a manner that is not satisfactory.

But, if I do do that, I don't assault them with some supercharged me. I tend to try to use a mixture of politeness, femininity, reason and logic to get them to see my way. The more in control I feel of myself, the more likely I am to use strategies that allow them to adjust their state of mind to see things from my point of view. So, in my case, I never really forget that I am a woman and that I must handle things with some subliminal awareness of my femininity. Maybe it is the 'claws' at the end of my fingers these days, but the femininity, if not the submissiveness is always present.

What delights me about the research that I have done is that I feel completely accepting of all variations on this theme. Eve Ensler talked of how she hoped that next Valentine's Day (V Day)  1 billion people would "dance" to stop violence against women. In that group she included women and "good men" - those men that deplore violence against women. I truly admired her daring goal and her belief that we all, individually and collectively, had the ability to make a difference to the whole world. Suddenly, androgyny seemed like a very wonderful space - that place where femininity meets masculinity.

On the other hand, what she was asking for was really a very conservative stance, I think - a recognition that women are vulnerable and that men need to protect them against bad people and bad circumstances. It is a stand for good against evil; for good people to rise and do something. It definitely left me feeling that there is a strong force for peace in this world and that somewhere in our more fluid society, we may be onto a good thing.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


You created a blank page on which I could write my deepest and most sacred thoughts.
You are responsible for crafting these cherished moments by permitting me to experience my own desires.
You are the witness to my state of satisfaction and bliss,
having insisted that I do what I most want.

Aren't you the clever one!
Granting wishes, gifting me your generosity;
Demanding  that I grow and learn in the name of sadism,
when all along it was the work of a fine magician.

Somewhere deep inside I always knew that,
But pennies drop randomly,
And today I saw what I had not completely before;
a very fine connection, not without affection.

Friday, February 10, 2012


Obviously and irrefutably, I enjoy the thought and the reality of all sorts of bondage and containment. But, one can take this another step. Imagine for a moment that I did not enjoy these thoughts so much, or to just consider one type of bondage imagine that I did not like the idea of wearing a chastity belt. It is not outside the realms of reality that the idea of wearing the belt is much more wonderful than the reality of wearing it. I doubt this, but it is possible.

So let's say for argument's sake that I don't like being put in a chastity belt, or let's say that I am ambivalent (does the word ambivalent really belong in the same sentence as the word 'chastity belt'?) So, let's say that I am not really getting a kick out of the restraint. I, personally, would rather that I were not in the belt.

Okay. So, is that it? It's a flop because I am not enjoying it. Or, is there something more to gain than my enjoyment?

I'm being objectified, actually. I'm being put in my place. The main purpose of the exercise is, perhaps, that I am being reminded that I'm really no different to a chair. I serve a purpose. The chair is for sitting on. I am meant for his physical pleasure. I belong to him. He owns me and what's more he can do what he wants with me. If he wants to bound me up and keep me that way until it pleases him to go get that key and release me, that's what he will do.

Here's the thing. It's not about me and what brings me pleasure. It is all about him. If I get pleasure from the containment, that's secondary; superfluous information; unintentional; irrelevant.

Except...that sort of thought plays on a woman's mind; follows her wherever she may go; has her lips upturned into a smile in situations that really don't call for such a sense of joy and pleasure. The thought of being an object, a sexual object at the behest of the man overtakes her and leaves her plans for the day in a crumpled mess on the floor. Her mind is mush. Strategic thinking is now impossible as naughty thoughts overtake her mind.

She is not meant to be enjoying herself. Except, she is.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Transforming depression to peace and joy

To return to the spiritual man who took a yoga class last week, he said that when people are found having been buried under rubble for a week or even longer, the press often refer to it as a "miracle". It is not a miracle, he said. We can all survive for a week or more without food or water. The reason why people survive is that their spirit is strong. I mentioned this to my husband and he said, "Well, people panic. That's why they die." But, it does goes to resiliency, I think. Some people are extraordinarily strong. Awful things can happen to them but they seem able to overcome them.

I happened to catch a BBC radio show just now about depression. Researchers were trying to uncover the reasons why some people are resilient and some people fall down to depression. It is a subject that absolutely fascinates me and I have spoken to several people about it. My third child was born with a number of issues and I was told he would never go to a regular school. An American psychologist told me this when my son was three years old and it put me off psychology for nearly 20 years. My husband said it was hogwash and that I should just pretend I never heard that statement but I confess it shook me to the core. Anyway, we just proceeded to educate him like the other children, mindful that there were issues and undoubtedly I gave him an extra dose of my time and attention and of course I found experts to give him the necessary intervention therapies.

He graduated from school a few years ago, was a senior member of the outdoor program; Captain of his summer sport. His marks didn't enable him to go straight into a degree course but he did a diploma course and got very good marks which earned him a sideways transfer into the Degree course. Initially, that was rough. He failed a few subjects but once he realized the expectations he knuckled down and next time it was all Distinctions and Credits. He wants to be part of the industry based program and he has been for an interview - just missed out because one other candidate had experience already in that particular field. It didn't bother him. Whatever happens, he never ever gets depressed. If something doesn't work out, he immediately figures out how to overcome the hurdle. I have huge admiration for this quality. I wish I could bottle and sell his resilience.

The theory goes that if you have had a bout of depression, you are more likely to have another episode. I definitely had post-breastfeeding depression, as I call it. I was blissfully happy after the birth of my fourth child until he one day decided he didn't want to feed from my breast. He simply turned his head away and that was that. I was dumbfounded. For 8 months, he had fed from my breasts several times a day. He had a sucking action that none of the other children had and I would sit there having multiple orgasms every day of my life, usually four times a day. And then, one day it was all over. Chemical changes in my body, I think, led to depression.

My husband tried to seek help from some helpline he located but the woman who answered left him with the impression that it was all his fault and that confused him all the more. I continued with life. I wasn't stuck in my bed or anything but I just wasn't getting joy out of my life. It probably is worth bearing in mind that I had, as well as the baby, three children in primary school, a husband doing an MBA and no help whatsoever from family members. That could have had something to do with it too. Fortunately, after a few months the depression lifted of its own accord.

 When I try to imagine what it was like to have depression, I can't recall it or imagine it in any detail. I do know that many days I felt listless and I recall walking into the laundry one day and looking at all I had to do and imagined the work of climbing Mt. Everest. To call a spade a spade, I was seriously overworked; relentless work that started at dawn and didn't end til last thing at night, and then I'd wake up the next day and do it all over again. Although I loved my children fiercely, the job of motherhood was eating at my marrow. It was sometimes my own resilience and determination to get through those years (in spite of the depressive episode) that kept me going, I think.

Last year, nearly 15 years after the first episode of depression, I reached a point where it was becoming clear to me that I was depressed and fearing it, I chose to begin psychological counseling (which turned out to be a kind of cognitive behaviour therapy approach) So, where was my resilience? What had taken me to this point? Well, remember, I speak now in hindsight. I can't remember all my thoughts of 12 months ago. But, this is what I think happened. For a few years by then, I had had some wonderful SM moments; some of the best moments of my life. Somehow, that made the lows all the more low for me. If my husband or my mentor was at odds with me; if they were disappointed with me; if they were angry with me; I hit an all time low. Of course, good times would return. Stability would come. But, it was that see-saw approach of life that was really overwhelming me.

When I entered therapy I told my psychologist that I wanted to just live happily and calmly but also to have the very good times. She once told me that I was incredibly lucky; that almost no one else had these incredible moments of elation like I was describing. But, without being able to explain it then, though I can explain it to you now, I wanted to experience the same highs but in an environment where I felt more stability. I didn't want to give up the highs but I did want to say goodbye to the lows; those dreadful occurrences where I felt that I made someone else so mad with me.

It bothers me that I can give no clear cut advice to those suffering depression, but then again, the English researchers on the BBC didn't have answers either. I once was depressed. I am no longer depressed and yet, I can't express the process of recovery exactly - although perhaps there are some answers in my journal entries of the past eight  months or so (I rarely re-read here).

For me, I think it was about gaining some autonomy. As someone who clearly has a submissive personality I tended to give too much of myself away and my psychologist steered me towards doing something for myself. When we isolated 'writing' as something I had always wanted to do, she wouldn't let the bone go. One day, I said that I had identified the course I wanted to do but that I would wait for 2012 to commence.

"Oh no you don't! You are enrolling right now!!"

I thought it was bossy and a bit pushy but you and I both know that I respond to that and enrol immediately, I did.  Whatever depression I was experiencing seemed to lift almost immediately. It was as if, by virtue of finally doing something that turned my frontal lobes on, I was immediately cured. I equate this to ADD where if you allow a person to do the thing he or she really wants to do, concentration is virtually assured. Quite suddenly, I was on my way to having a totally happy life. I finally had some autonomy in my life.

Of course, it won't be a surprise to learn that my relationships are my lifeblood and so I also needed to ensure that I was pleasing; that the moments would be rare that I displeased; that I had the strength to put those moments in their proper place, too. I know it sounds cliche, but in embracing my training, all the training, I  have developed skills that enable me to make both myself and those in my life happy. I can say better what I need and want. As if by magic, 'asking' is a piece of cake. My expectations are reasonable. Stability and accord reign. I don't try to control. I live in peace. I experience much joy.

I hear the medicos talking about depression as if there is a magic bullet they are yet to find. I believe that depression tends to occur when someone cannot cope. Teaching those people strategies to cope may help better than any medication could, at least in some circumstances. I think the author of 'Eat, Pray, Love' discovered that. Sure, the medication was important at first but she learned balance; how to look inside herself to find the answers to a happy life; how to give back to others and love them well; how to find autonomy and be close to someone at the same time.

This was the answer for me in large measure; to go on loving and caring as fiercely as I had always done but to refine my skills at communication; to re-gig my expectations; and as well, to leave aside some space for me to do those things that gave me great satisfaction and joy - learning, writing, the world of yoga and meditation; BDSM/objectification practices. They all sustain and fulfill me.

Of course, what I want out of life is individual to me and probably nothing to do with you. Each reader of these words will have their own goals and wishes for their life. This is entirely right. But, if you do suffer from depression or if life isn't as good as you would like it to be, it pays to think of this day as the first day on the path to the life you want. I think the first step is to acknowledge that there are people who can help you with skills and that you can help yourself by identifying exactly what you want. How do you want your life to look this time next year?

Friday, February 3, 2012

Self control

When your life is jogging along and people are pulling you in various directions - deadlines, jobs, children and social activities to name a few - I think you generally put your sexual thoughts to one side. Perhaps they are dormant for a while or perhaps they are simply locked in a little compartment of your brain waiting for the opportunity to express them again. What I find is that if too much time goes by before they can be expressed, I get a little low. I'm not quite myself. And, if far too much time goes by before I can express those sexual thoughts, I get itchy/scratchy; aggravated; frustrated; perhaps quiet and subdued. My happiness and sense of well-being is closely associated with being able to express my primal self.

Over the past few years, I have come to know myself well and what turns me on but I never do seem to get the whole picture because just when I think that I have tapped down and uncovered the whole picture I find that there is something more; something new to discover.

When I was a school girl I can remember waiting for my mother in the hot sun and feeling desperately hot and uncomfortable. I would wonder how long I could stand the heat and the perspiration and I would play with my mind. One minute I would feel that I would simply expire only to discover that a few more minutes of discomfort had passed and I was tolerating it. When my mother would arrive I would feel relief that it was over but also some disappointment. Perhaps, I could have tolerated it just a little longer. Even back then, I liked to test myself; to test my mental strength.

This desire to test my mental strength is showing up in my sexuality in a few different ways these days and what I am finding is that when I can push myself a little further than I thought I could go, I get a wonderful rush of elation and it kicks my sexual response into a new land of pleasure. I won't go into details but I had one of the happiest days of my life a few Saturdays ago when my husband paddled me and made love to me in a way more intense than had been the case for some time now.  I suppose you call that subspace but just as in my experiences as a girl, I was relieved when he stopped but wondered, could I have taken just a little more? What I can say for sure is that I experienced a euphoria all that afternoon that doesn't come to mortals everyday. I was beaming; blissful; deliciously sore and happy. I felt terribly sorry for anyone who hasn't had the opportunity to be tested in this way.

I am not sure that I am a pain slut or a masochist but I suspect I must be. My husband says I am; that I revel in pain, whether it be a very intense massage or the way I go off to a weights class and test myself with fairly certain knowledge I will be half dead for the next few days with the pain in all my body. I get an enormous kick in being made to do something that I am not at all sure I want to do; whether that be a sadomasochistic practice of some sort, being made to run when I hate to run, or pushed to do my best writing. Whatever. Something deep inside me kicks in and I feel more alive when tested. This goes against the grain in a way for I can be quite anxious when tested. I think the anxiety relates to fear of failure; the awful feeling that I may let myself down. I've struggled with that feeling my entire life.

I did a yoga class yesterday at a gym that I am trying out for a month for virtually free. The teacher was a gorgeous, absolutely stunning specimen of a man. He was jet black with a well toned body; tall; a strong, deep voice and a dominance about him, although I felt he must surely be gay. In the last few minutes, as we relaxed he became more like a preacher and he talked of our "magnificence" and how we were all perfect just the way we are and how we had to be our "own best friend". He talked about "the breath" and how it is  the answer to all problems. And, I have definitely found that to be the case. I know when I am out of control because my breath is out of control. It is in this way that I have gained control over my own behaviour and responses and this had made way for me to be open to more and more challenge. If I do fail, I can pick myself off and dust myself off and start all over again. I believe in myself more. And, that makes BDSM practices all the more wonderful for me.