Monday, March 31, 2014

Writing impulses

Writers sometimes keep journals about their project(s) and within those journals are all sort of contemplations about why they are hooked on a particular topic or idea, who their characters are and why they do what they do. These diaries can be filled with contemplative reflections that go on in a stream of writing way for pages at a time, or just a note; some little snippet of an idea to be considered on some other day.

I'm deeply immersed in one such diary at the moment and considering the motives of the two main characters in the story. I feel I know what she wants but I am not entirely sure of what the male character stands to get; not at all sure what is motivating him. Well, sometimes, I am sure of what he wants and sometimes he just confuses me. But then, is that I, the writer of these characters that is feeling different today than I did yesterday, just as all our emotions and thoughts fluctuate somewhat from day to day, or is it my vision of Daniel that is seeing things in some sort of new light; something that I didn't see there before? At the end of the day, it is all perception, not some truth of the matter, I think.

Of course, we don't necessarily want to be seen under a bright, neon light. We may have no desire whatsoever for someone to understand us in our entirety and so it is with the writer's process - some characters are tricky; some choose not to reveal themselves in any complex and complete way. That's why we write notes, trying to pin them down; to make sense of behavior that seems to have no logic of its own.

Diaries are used for catharsis, too. Moments of anger, frustration and joy ask to be cataloged in a diary. I've no idea why exactly except that for some people there's an instinct working that tells them to 'write it down' and so we do; the heartbreaks, the moments of happiness; a sudden burst of understanding about a situation. We write down changes too. We notice, our intuition notices that there has been a change within us and our intellect goes to work to try to figure what it was that our intuition noted. Since we learned language we've felt right about getting things down.

I've noticed all morning that I feel different than I did, say, last week. Yes, a weekend away in the country stimulates my senses and getting out of the city is enlivening for my spirits. But, it's more than that. My body, over the past five days or so has been stimulated (used) and having expressed myself in this way (that is, felt deeply and contentedly objectified several times over) my mind is in a state of peace; not empty but slowed right down. I've no desire today to do, but rather just to sit with myself. Never mind that I have writing to do. I'm doing the writing that I'm not required to do, as you can see.

This is no permanent 'fix'. There's still a long way to go before I could feel that the situation has settled such that every day is an authentic day, or a day in which all is in its place in my world, but I don't feel any longer that sense that I'm living in my own little nightmare, unable to make it go away. It's back to that feeling of contentedness (even though nothing has actually changed other than the use, and my sense of things, and my feelings about all that), and that understanding of the contentedness that it is no permanent state. What I mean is that I know that I am a slew of emotions that alter and change without my being able to set them in a particular way. All I can do is notice them; be aware of them; celebrate them when I feel as I do now; as if I have walked out of the primordial swamp intact; alive. "I am alive!" What a wonderful feeling is that!

Of course, the idea is that when one is enlightened enough, one simply accepts each new day and each new set of feelings as they change and transform as being 'right'. If one is simply awareness, one looks in on the situations of life and accepts all that happens; all that one thinks.

I'm not explaining it well, because at this moment I am writing as if I were writing in one of my hand written diaries, none too worried about being logical; just exploring an idea. The best I can do is to say that I am very aware of this moment where my fingers are gliding over the letters of the laptop; where I sit here at the big round table with myself, surrounded by pages that offer endless ideas about the creative process and feel...content. I have no particular needs. I'm not even focused on doing the task at hand (as is obvious) but rather sitting with myself, whoever that is.

As I woke this morning I remembered, quite out of the blue, that I had a conversation with a woman about two years ago now. She used to look after me when I was a little girl, She cooked for me mostly but she also talked to me a lot. There had been a gap of about 20 years since I saw her last and the first thing she said to me was "I'd have known you anywhere. You haven't changed at all." I didn't like to ask then what I woke up wishing that I had asked. "Who is that little girl you know so well? What was I like? Tell me about myself."

I'm beginning to think that no matter the subject of our writing, at the end of the day we inject every situation and every character with a part of ourselves, because the most fascinating part of any human being's journey through life remains the eternal question, 'Who am I?' We may never know.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014


When life is humming along and I feel at one with the world, surrendering to the state of being my natural self, submission happens very naturally and happily, I find. The internal motor hums along nicely. Life is good and not just when success radiates the air but through all the ups and downs of life.

All sorts of things can be happening that aren't all that great, but holding onto that submissive stance within myself is a surefire way to remain peaceful and blissful. No matter what is happening externally, inside I'm being true to myself. If there is one 'fact' about me, it is this - that the best way to derail my efforts to live in harmony with myself and the world is to 'forget' about the submissive instinct that runs deeply through me; to ignore those impulses that advise me how to feel, to act, to think or not think; to be in a peaceful state of mind.

If I were to attempt to make a study of the moments of happiness in one's life, as did Marion Milner back in the 1930s, by keeping an intensive diary for seven years about her mind set (A Life of One's Own), and maybe that's what I am, in fact, doing right here, I might well find that the best moments happen when I am being true to myself, and that the worst possible moments happen when I have derailed myself by not allowing myself the sense of safety, security and contentedness that a submissive stance brings.

I won't go into it in depth today but what Marion discovered is much what I have been discovering for years - that the moments when one is not thinking bring the most happiness. When one puts aside the need to think, beautiful moments happen of their own accord - delight in Vivaldi this morning on the radio, for example. I was driving the boy to school when on came Vivaldi. We were running late and he commented, "Ah, the perfect string music when running late to school." We've noticed this - that so often when we are running late, on will come some inspiring, 'get on with life' string music and off we go to school quite pumped at the promise of a new day. It does help to have the classical music station on your dial, of course.

Or, I'll put on Diana Krall whilst chopping vegetables and find myself in an instantly empty state of mind, noticing the piano, and then a trumpet, or a delightful chord of the base guitar; just delighting in those beautiful sounds. Gardening is fabulous for emptying the mind but so too are millions of moments in life when one lets all thought go - a child laughing, a dog's antics, the sun coming through the window in a certain way. It's a trick of the mind to stop thinking to allow the blissful bounty of not thinking.

My mind was all a-chatter yesterday in meditation. Except for the fact that I have trained myself to endure this awful chatter that happens sometimes and to sit still regardless, I'd have got up, desperate to get away from myself. That's why I meditate in a group because you just can't walk away, or I can't do that. It took a full 50 minutes before my bloody restless, out of control mind shut up and gave me some peace. When I had finally surrendered, I felt much more contained; in control of my own turbulent emotional state.

Now, this does happen to submissive types. If they get a feeling that they are not contained, that their submissive state is missing, that they are running free and restless, in some way they are crying out to be contained. It's the reining in by the dominant that eases the distress. Discipline becomes a much needed antidote to the distress.

In my experience, a submissive doesn't ever want to hear that she has disappointed. No matter how restless of mind, when one hears that word, such as in, "You disappoint me" a little ping goes off. 'Oh, yeah! That's my job and I've sucked at that lately. What on earth have I been thinking??!!' Call the power exchange what you will, but it all boils down to this really - that one does serve the dominant and that the end game is that they are pleased. Without that, there's nothing.

For me, awareness of life and how I live it within myself, and my submissive state of mind, are intricately related. I do best in a constant state of awareness of the need to please and the need to live life with a strong sense of presence with life; with a mind rested, open and often quite empty; an empty vessel in some ways; awareness, just...awareness.

Monday, March 24, 2014

The object state

Ruth sat in the front passenger seat and felt the sun warming her face on this autumn morning. Her eyes gradually became more heavy and at some point she began to drift off into slumber. As her mind began to let go of the effort to remain fully awake she squeezed on the anal plug she was wearing and as she did images floated before her closed eyes; images she had not called up but had made an entrance into her mind without invitation.

She felt the long, thick cock enter her pussy cunt and as it did she let out a soft groan, overcome with the pleasure and surprise of the thrust. Her mind fell much like an elevator that jerks in deceleration. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to form a hole for any other cock that was also in need of the use of her body. To those people in cars passing by, thankfully, this was a woman whose mouth opens when she falls asleep; nothing more.

Very quickly, Ruth had transformed into her object state. She was there for their use and she knew it; wanted it; thrived on the thought. No matter how hard she tried with the force of her will, of which she felt she had an abundant store, to not think about such scenarios, this thought repeated in Ruth's mind many times a day. As surprised as she was to experience this so haphazardly, on the way to an event, the scenario itself was well known to her.

Whether she had been trained to believe in her object state or whether it was there all along she knew not. All she could really say for sure was that she had no idea how to make it go away, and that she didn't want to. Ruth had only been fucked in her mind's eye but she enjoyed it nonetheless, as always; took great pleasure in the meanderings of her mind, as usual.

Saturday, March 22, 2014


I began life with one obsession/kink and over time I added on several other kinks. I was about eight, I'd say, when I first imagined being disciplined as my bath would draw. It was easy to hide this situation from any adults because I'd simply bend over and touch my toes. Being flexible and having started ballet at the age of four, this would not have seemed at all unusual to anyone, as far as I know. I'd be imagining being in trouble and in order to discipline me I'd be told to bend over and take a spanking. I still do the same thing today; bend over as my bath is drawing and imagine that I have been told to do this in order to be spanked. Some things don't change.

It's clear to any reader who has been around these parts for a time that my thinking brain does not always approve of my kinks and I do find myself occasionally catching the kink and speaking back to it.

"I don't want that. Why would I want that?"

This is true, in a sense, because I don't necessarily want to be disciplined. I crave to be disciplined.

Since discipline did, in fact, become a part of my reality, there have been times, for various reasons, when it hasn't been a part of my life. Sometimes, I feel the crushing blow instantly and know immediately what I have lost and how lost I will be without it. Other times, I celebrate for a full 48 hours, thrilled that I am finally done with the craving, only to discover that it is not so easy, and I'll take any consequence if I can just have the discipline back in my life. It's pervasive. It's permanent, in terms of desire, and there is nothing I can do about that.

I like to imagine what the discipline would look like, if I were to be at the beginning of a relationship with a man (of no discernible features or identity); a man who sees me as his to do as he wants; a man who suits himself. By imagining in this way, I can go to scenarios where I allow my thoughts to run free; to test myself.

There is absolutely no doubt that when I came to see him, or he came to see me, he'd have told me what he wanted. My hair and make up, the clothing I wore, my jewellery and my mode of presentation of my body would all be dictated by him. Without a doubt, he'd ensure that I had complied in all ways.

This is a man who looks to transform me in virtually all ways that suit him, so he'd be gradually but assuredly making changes to my body and my mind that pleased him. It's likely therefore that he'd ask me to wear an anal plug, a particular plug of his choosing, one that stretched me, literally and figuratively, challenged me and reduced me to a toy. He'd therefore want to make inspection of that area of my body particularly. He'd like me to feel vulnerable, that I do things at his behest and that I comply, without exception. Finding me just as he demanded would please him greatly and he'd tell me that he was pleased. I'm a 'praise slut' and he'd know that, since a "good girl" had gone a very long way right from the start.

In fact, there'd be no reason to punish me at all, but that does not mean that he'd not discipline me in a corporal way. He'd know from our discussions that it was a kink of mine, and in any case, he'd love to see me squirm and wiggle under his hand; to hear me grunt and groan as he brought the whip down on my backside. Nothing would please him more as he watched my rump change colors and I don't even need to say that lust would eventually overtake him and that he'd find me a wet mess, praying to God that he'd plunder me at the earliest opportunity.

It's incredibly difficult for me to imagine that this scenario, or various interpretations of it, could ever grow old. These images are with me every day of my life. There's not the slightest chance, as far as I can see, that they are going anywhere.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Personal power

Living with someone who has turbulent emotions and constant mood swings is challenging. On any day, at any hour, you can never be quite sure what to expect; what 'issue' may have cropped up in their minds which requires them to emote into their atmosphere. There appears to be a sense of things buried in their bones that their problems need to be shared. There's an expectation that one is there to listen; that the carrying of life on their sleeve is the ways things must be and that it's normal for them, that they have the right, to alter the feelings of those around them according to the way they are feeling at any given moment. To break it down, it can look like the thought in their head is 'If I'm not happy, then you can't be happy either.'

I certainly can't speak for women with a disposition similar to mine but I can say that I have been caught in this vice more times than I can remember. For a few years there, my reaction to this sort of attack on my state of well being would be to take myself as far away from the circumstance and as quickly as I could; to move and keep moving.

I was profoundly aware of my physical sensations. My heart would be thumping in my chest, my head pounding with tension, and my gut and throat would feel alarmingly constricted. The anger I would feel in being put upon, in having my sense of calm disrupted; my sense of frustration that someone would have the gall to be rude because he felt a lack of harmony within himself, would explode inside me as might a volcano that does not spew out lava but contains the eruption within. At its worst, this sense of upset could last hours.

It wasn't until it was suggested to me that I actually should be physically contained when angry (and boy, did that set my emotions aglow) that I started to consider the idea of staying quite still when angry. Very quickly, this strategy helped, because unwittingly I'd enabled my breathing to recover; to slow down and begin to recover from the 'flight or fight' reaction that had been induced in me.

I've come to see that I can't necessarily really have any effect over another person, regardless of how angelic or submissive my behavior. If a person wants to be unhappy, sad, mad, angry, or frustrated; if he wants to remain in denial as to his issues, or sit in a room on his own; whatever; there is nothing I can do about that. I say this as a person who has tried to have effect and failed. There is no denying the fact that I hate to fail at anything and this scenario isn't comfortable for me, especially when I have been in pursuit of solutions for so long.

However, what I have come to see is that that person is not responsible for the pain I am feeling. If I can find a quiet place to sit with my eyes closed I can get in touch with the pain I am feeling in my body. Am I carrying the pain with tightness across my skull, or do I feel constriction in my neck? I can place my hands over the painful parts of my body and quite literally 'hold' the painful experience. "It hurts here," I tell myself.

These are my feelings. Even if they were intended, they still belong to me. I have the choice to respond to painful situations in creative ways. By taking responsibility for the feelings I have the power to make the pain melt away. I'm no longer blaming anyone for the painful response so I have the power to make the pain go away. Even when turbulence encircles me it doesn't have to overwhelm me, because I have the power to ensure that it doesn't hurt me; or if it does, that I can make it go away.

There is huge personal power in this school of thought. For me, it is a way to return to the peace and calm that I routinely seek in spite of the challenges of my life. It's a strong reminder of the simple fact that the peace resides in me and that I don't need to run off and find it.

Friday, March 14, 2014

How the dominant works

I took great pleasure last night in watching two 50 year old women have their appearance transformed on the show What Not to Wear. When we met them they were both sad, tired and unkempt. As they were given positive attention and encouragement and shown the sort of clothing that would accentuate their assets they began to open and blossom like beautiful flowers. By the time their hair had been colored and cut in a style that was more contemporary and flattering they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.

They had been transformed into happy and fun loving women, brimming over with the sort of confidence that only engenders more and more happiness, for them and all the people in their lives. I can get quite teary over this sort of show, just as I shed tears of joy when a man got down on bended knee and proposed to his girlfriend on the Ellen DeGeneres show recently.

Transforming someone into their higher self is a wonderful experience - watching people come alive - and so it makes sense to me that some dominant personalities love to take a person and alter them. Of course, the possibilities are limitless but it seems to me that accentuating a woman's sexuality is something that dominants particularly love to do.

Some people would say that 'the slut' was always there in the girl and some people would say that she was led to appreciate being 'the slut'. I think both statements are true for many submissive women. Certainly, I've harbored rather slutty thoughts from the youngest age and kept them in the safe port of my mind. Those slutty thoughts, however, have required an environment that feels safe and most importantly, tolerant. More than that, it has required an environment where those thoughts are desired.

I've been open to becoming more slutty. I've enjoyed that. But, my thoughts alone were only ever going to take me so far. I've been influenced and exposed to ideas that were new to me. Initially, I had no intention of going further than seemed completely comfortable. Over time, this thought was turned on its head as my desires grew and grew. My predilections advanced in such a way that I never really knew, and still don't know, if what I desire now is what I always wanted (but, how is this so when my exposure was so limited?) or whether I was led to want what I now consider my deepest, darkest and most fervent desires, that may well have been in my mind in some form all along.

It's a very sophisticated, cerebral sort of dominance that transforms a girl over a period of time that could expand to years and years. Ever patient and vigilant, this type of dominant person takes great pleasure in slowly molding a person to want what they want, in such a way that it is almost impossible to decipher just what went on. All one can really say is that one changed; altered; transformed.

It's been my experience that most profound BDSM experiences can't be explained in words. I do, perhaps foolishly, have a go at doing just that here on the web journal at times, but the truth is that you can't explain to someone what something feels like until he or she experience it for himself or herself. I can't explain in words what it was like to be anally trained and adore that, any more than I can explain how it came to be that I became absolutely desperate to have my first latex hood recently. It's been on my mind for a good two years but it is only in the past two weeks that the passion for the experience overwhelmed me.

In fact, my husband had told me to order one some time ago and I don't know why I didn't do it then, except to say that I so very much wanted to get it right. It was my lack of understanding of exactly what I wanted, I think, that held me back from placing the order. Two days ago I asked my husband to help me measure the circumference of my head. Then, I discussed with him the merits of certain colors. We decided together on black because as he said, I didn't want any light coming in, and although baby pink is a divine thought, it's the block out feeling that I most want. This left the all important decision of deciding the weight of the latex and after some consultation with friends who know more than me in this department I went with the heavier weight.

When I pressed the button confirming the order I could not have been more excited about my purchase. It's thrilling to me to read the notes they send me via email giving me updates, the latest one being that the order is "being processed". I began this web journal in 2009 and if you had told me back then I'd be so absolutely delighted that my head was to be tightly covered in latex, with no eyes and no mouth, I'd have thought you were on something.

Slowly, one careful step at a time, I've been introduced to ideas that arouse me and thrill me to the core. I've come to understand the meaning of very deeply committed and connected couples. Their words didn't allow me to understand what they do exactly. I could see their contentment but I didn't fully understand it. I do now. It's deeply spiritual. It's stunningly beautiful.

The word 'slut' can't begin to describe the magnificence of two people wanting the very same thing; doing to and for one another what allows their souls to collide. Of course, you won't necessarily know what I mean because I can't tell you about something like that or describe something like that. To really understand, it must be lived. Power exchanges are not for the fainthearted, but for those people willing to go the distance, they are relationships that have a very tender quality; that ooze with love. 

Sunday, March 9, 2014


When we desire something a great deal, and then one day that desire is met, what happens? Well, then there is no more desire for a time and we experience feelings of well being, joy and peace. Lack of desire brings us a sense of fulfillment, until the next round of desire takes place and we repeat the process all over again.

With that in mind it occurred to me over the past day or so that if I were to give up my desires, perhaps that would have a positive effect.

The moment I hit on this idea it had a calming effect on me. Rather than pine that my desire could not be fulfilled, I could stop desiring and feel whole. Instead of living my life as if something were missing, I could embrace my life as it is right now.

I think it is a confusing notion in ways - the lack of desire bringing peace - because it is desire that spurs us on. We can't get a degree, or clean a house, or improve a relationship without a desire to do so. People tend to do well in areas that turn them on; in aspects of life in which they desire to do well.

Perhaps desire is not constructive when the desire has too much fire, such that the desire is destructive to achieving the goal. Desires do require patience; nurturing.

Thus, while I continue to desire a relationship with my husband that has a power exchange dynamic that is expressed sexually and with an understanding of spiritual connection via that sexuality and control, right now the right thing appears to be to let go of that desire and just enjoy what we have right now.

Instead of seeing it as 'not enough', as I have been inclined to do, but embracing it for what it is and all its strengths, perhaps the way is cleared for positive progress for later on.

One of the issues for people who have been together for a very long time is that they are so attached to one another that distress in one spouse leads the other to feel estranged. No one likes to feel that they are not making the other happy and that feeling leads to distance.

In my experience there needs to be a softening of the heart towards one another - a move, or even several moves towards one another - that clears the way ahead for much greater intimacy, in whatever form that takes.

There is no denying that intimacy between us that takes a certain shape is incredibly uplifting for me. Once I experience it that way, the desire is removed and that means all that is left is peace. I'm uplifted and very happy. There is no thought that can replace this thought because for me it is a very natural reaction to the sort of intimacy where I feel that I what I desire has been granted.

However, wanting something can be emotionally painful because we can feel that we are being denied. Yet, in essence the thought of 'desire' or 'want' is really just like any other thought - a thought that passes through our minds, that comes and goes.

If we get stuck on that thought - obsess about it - we are causing internal and external distress. We are removing the opportunity to be the awareness of our thoughts; to be aware that we are the blank piece of white paper over which there comes all kinds of writing. Peace can be ours when we return in our minds to that thought - that the peace resides in us.

Some people may say that I am denying what is clear - that I operate best with a submissive stance and with dominance presence. I am certainly not denying that fact.

However, pining for what I don't currently have much of is to relegate what I do have to the slush pool, and it has much more worth than that.

In any case, to remove the need for dominance in my life and the opportunities for peace that dominance brings is to remove the limit of the need.

By removing the limit of the need, by embracing what my life as it currently presents itself is, I'm opening myself up to new expressions of intimacy. I think I'm also opening myself to more expression of the intimacy that I have found so consoling and uplifting in the past.

In order to experience the delights of dominance one must first show comfort and ease  in a submissive role. One needs to put aside desire that makes one edgy and inclined to withdraw. To those with a dominant disposition, even a dominant disposition that is not currently being overtly expressed, anything else is confusing and alienating.

One needs to make one's peace with the circumstances as they have played out. Empathy is required; a commitment to find intimacy in some other way, for now. As my husband likes to say, "You can't fuck a porcupine."

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Giving and taking

In the past month I have been to two funerals; the children of friends of mine. In both cases they died due to their own form of mental distress. Obviously, a friend's job is to nurture the parents in their time of grief and of course, that is what I did. Yet, it cannot be denied, these premature deaths took a lot out of me. I've experienced agitation within myself and became something of an insomniac, until last night when my body demanded that it get some decent rest.

I've been blessed with a few days to myself (well, the boys are here but they are easy) and although it has been a bit of a roller coaster, for I don't recall ever being more tired than I was yesterday, I am starting to see what happened to me more clearly.

I'd booked in for a 'sound healing' session on Sunday afternoon and my daughter came with me. I wasn't able to fully relax as I would have otherwise, but it helped, for sure. It was after that session when we were talking that my daughter gave me the lecture; that I hadn't needed to rush there and make myself late in order to make the lunch; that the three boys could have done that themselves; that I needed to stop putting everyone else's needs ahead of my own.

As I lay in bed alone early this morning I thought about this thing I do - find succor out of people taking from me; out of giving to people. It comes so naturally to me to do this. I really don't know any other way to live. It nurtures my soul.

Yet, I was overloaded this past month. There is no doubt about that. I needed to pull back into myself and restore myself . When you have a submissive nature and people get used to being around that, a dynamic takes place. The submissive wants to be in control of her emotions in large part because this suits everybody else. An ethereal, joyful, playful person is great succor to people. It is this peaceful state that they crave because a peaceful person encourages a peaceful disposition in others.

When I am not calm, content and at peace within myself this seems to trouble others and it troubles me. There is a part of my brain that is aware that this is what is expected and wanted: my happy, light, sensual disposition. Therefore, if I am not able to give this, of what use am I? Perhaps this is why I seek my own company and counsel at such times; until I am restored; until I have recovered. And, it works. To give to others, first you must give to yourself.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Objectification desires

I was talking to my husband this morning; one of those talks when I try to be intimate with him, by way of words. I told him that I had given him a very hard task in life really. He wasn't expected to be just my husband, but also my father, my brother; my dominant lover. I acknowledged that it can't be an easy task.

Of course, I did have a father and I do have a brother, and I'm loved, but neither man loved me in such a way as to want to nurture me, I think. I don't think about it too often because it is simply my reality; a reality I can't change. Still, I wanted to acknowledge to my husband that there hadn't been a male figure in my life in a family sense who could aid my husband to nurture me in any way. This had probably made his role all the more difficult.

I also shared with my husband a situation that had occurred during the week. Lorraine (not her real name) and I  were the last two women to leave a group of women having coffee after an exercise session. Lorraine wanted to share with me details about her marriage of 37 years which ended in divorce 6 years ago. She wanted to tell me of her experiences at dating since the divorce and her man of the moment who appears to have no assertiveness. She wanted to know what she should do. She's spent the majority of her life with an assertive/take charge man and was it even possible that she could come to enjoy a much quieter and less assertive man; someone who after four months of weekly dating still hasn't got beyond a kiss goodnight?

"Is it me?" she asked me.
"You want intimacy. You want to be as close with a man as you can. You have a particular nature and it is hard for you to be the instigator of things. I understand that," I replied.
"Yes. I do. I may be 61 but I want intimacy and I am used to a man taking charge of the situation."

It was my pleasure to talk with her. I don't mind at all listening to people express themselves, but it did occur to me that this happens to me quite frequently and it causes me to reflect. Any emotional anguish I experience takes places behind closed doors and here in this web journal. So, to meet me what you see is a well dressed woman who smiles frequently; a woman who appears happy, content, stable, financially secure and happily married. I guess I must also come across as non-judgmental, open and willing to listen, but not smug, or so wrapped up in her own life that I am at all a threat.

For instance, a woman, a stranger to me, did the same thing yesterday afternoon at the afternoon tea after a funeral where she told me, over the course of an hour, about her son's autism, the behavior training methods they had used and so on. I did share a little bit of my own knowledge - I happened to know an autistic boy who snow skis with her son. However, what I shared did not relate to questions she asked me about myself because she didn't ask me any questions about myself.

Rightly or wrongly, my emotional pain takes place with myself fairly exclusively, except on those rare occasions when the distress spills over in my own home, or occasionally over coffee with my mother. Even then, I recover as fast as I can because what alternative is there? What ails me has no solution, it would seem, which is galling because I do love to say to the children, 'Every problem has a solution.'

In a nutshell my problem is that is I need a large helping of intimacy on a regular basis. To be more specific, I need my intimacy in a particular way. To explain that a bit more, I enjoy instruction. I enjoy the discipline of receiving instruction. I don't so much enjoy to initiate myself as I enjoy that someone takes from me.  This is the transference of energy from them to me that I crave.

When intimacy is available to me and I can bunker down into that deeply meditative and blissful state of being 'taken', my spirits rise and life becomes easy. The emotional pain I might have been experiencing is washed away. I am able then to offer kindnesses and compassion; to be, in essence, the initiator after that. However, without some dominant display I remain, as my husband likes to say, "the dolly on the shelf." I can't come down until I am brought down. Conversely, I can flirt, but when I feel the dominant energy is present or will be appreciated.

Alas, I'm all too aware of this failing of mine. It might be early morning and I contemplate waking my husband with some advance, but if his dominant energy towards me has been absent, a move in his direction is like asking me to put my hand out and pat a poisonous snake. I am just not going to be able to do that and so I remain 'on the shelf', perpetually in wait. I am hurt really. I feel rejected and abandoned and in that state of mind it's awfully hard for me to ask for intimacy.

Randomly, this week my husband told me he had read of anal stretching being associated with an increase in oxytocin. Of course, we all know that sexual pleasure is a wonderful way of relaxing the body and the mind, but anal intercourse or use of a largish anal plug can create feelings of euphoria that, in my experience, go beyond your everyday orgasm. Whether it is oxytocin or something else entirely I cannot say but my body certainly creates some sort of pleasure drug. I refer to it as being "opened". My body and my mind are opened up in very special ways and these experiences are very happy ones for me wherein any sort of identity is simply unnecessary and unwanted. I'm in a state of objectification, something I do for myself, that makes it possible for me to flourish as a human being. My mind is opened to all sorts of perversions. Gosh, I love that. And, my body is tuned and turned on in a way that makes me feel totally alive.

I'm well aware that with a deeply perverted man I truly would flourish. He could buy me masks that cover my face tightly. He could put me in a latex dolly suit and watch my identity melt away. He could call me his doll, his slut, his fuck toy, it, or 'hol' and I'd not just be okay with this. I'd relish it. I'm so aware of all this potential inside me for delicious debauchery; objectification; the possibility to let go in the deepest way and just enjoy whatever comes. I'd adore him for it. He could do what he will to me, and as a result of that intimacy, that care and trust, I'd hold him in the highest esteem. Truly, I hunger for that outcome every day of my life.

And yet, here I am, faithful to a man whom I love, and with whom I expected to spend my days until death comes to me, who is experiencing a malaise that makes very little of this possible. I struggle. I struggle to accept these limitations and restrictions. I wonder how I can go on, knowing all the infinite possibilities for peace and bliss, for intimacy and care, yet denied them. Where the answer lies, if there is indeed an answer to my dilemma, I just don't know.