The suitability of love

 I just finished the novel 'Intermezzo' by Sally Rooney. I am missing the characters already so I listened online to a few book club groups sharing their opinions, which were divided, as one would expect. 

What did appear to be consistent was a liking of Margaret, the 36-year-old woman, recently divorced from her alcoholic husband who goes to bed with Ivan, the 23-year-old "on the spectrum" chess player who she has been assigned to drive home to his Airbnb from a tournament.

The two protagonists of the novel are Ivan and his brother Peter, but we get to know Margaret from the inside, and thus, it seems to me, readers relate to Margaret, and not to Naomi and Sylvia so much, because we come to understand Margaret better. There's so much about the other women that remains a mystery. It's missing the point by the way to expect to know them better because they are Peter's girls, and if Peter can't know them better, then neither can we. It's his confusion about the two women in his life, and how they fit, or don't, that is central to the story.

One book club member was lost as to a motive for Margaret having a relationship with the much younger Ivan. Ivan has braces, isn't that sure of himself, but there's something there; a wanting, a desire, and they are both kind, humble people. The sex scenes between them are so beautifully constructed that I would have thought there was no doubt in readers minds that this is irresistibility on both sides. And kindness, which they are both needing.

I think this is either a conscious or unconscious thought on Rooney's mind all the time - that what seems 'suitable' for some people isn't suitable for other people, and maybe these choices aren't even ours, but the conditioning of forces greater than ourselves. The reader leaves the book, I would have thought, wondering about the limitations we set on ourselves about what is suitable; even what 'love' looks like.

I think for many readers it will be a stretch to think that the two women could share Peter in an ongoing way, and that's probably right. Should Peter and Naomi settle down and have a child, the opportunities to see Sylvia may begin to run down, or not. She may be incorporated into the new family in ways, a loving aunt for the child perhaps. The two women genuinely care for one another, and for Peter, and that's the glue.

Monogamy has its place, of course, but what I don't think makes sense, is that it demands that we have no care for other people of the opposite sex. Jealousy has a purpose, to be sure, but it also has this nasty demand that all loving feelings should go to one person, forever.

Honestly, I think this unwritten expectation places demands on a union that are almost unachievable; that one person has to fulfil one's needs for passion, affection, understanding, companionship and so forth, forever and ever. It's sort of bottling oneself up, kind of living in fear of spreading good will around, lest one be judged.

I don't mean that Peter's decisions, and the girls, can be a regular sort of thing, suitable for the masses. It's a particular situation, but maybe not so particular. The times they are a changing.

Anticipatory Grief

 I think about being in a storm, not quite sure where you are or what's the correct direction; what, in fact, to do.

I think about the advice, told in so many ways and by so many people, not to focus on the past or worry about the future, but simply to focus on the present moment.

I remind myself that control is an illusion and that life will play out regardless of my input. I can control all sorts of little outcomes but the big outcomes, other people's decisions, for example, are well beyond my control.

I think the tough part for me is not knowing, are we going backwards or forwards?

For the vast majority of people with cancer, there is a team who supports. The person may not take all the advice offered by them, but overall, there's a strategy in place, often a cocktail of strategies, and thus there is a plan. 

My husband has tended towards being a lone ranger in so many capacities and his cancer journey is no different. He doesn't want me at the appointments with the oncologist - says the guy is too dark and there is no upside in me hearing what he has to say - and thus I don't have the opportunity to hear what he has to offer.

I find myself listening for the bits and pieces of information offered to me, trying to make sense of them, sort of attempting to put them together to see if I can make a tapestry. 

I cannot honestly say if I know or even think, if he is going forwards or backwards because the information I have is too disparate and even contradictory.

I have noticed that I am feeling numb about it all, perhaps I am not sitting with any story that could or would ground me. I mentioned this to AI and the response was that numbness is to be expected, a way of coping. I suppose it is. If you don't have the data what else is there to do?

I think when it 'all falls apart' there's a solace and a strength that comes from a return to meditation and to the sense of equanimity in meditation. When I was guiding meditation groups, I almost always used the imagery of taking two steps back from the mind so you could observe it more clearly. This immediately puts one in the seat of the witness and in that seat the mind quite naturally starts to slow a bit. You can see the thought(s), almost like picking something up in your hand. 

In fact, it occurred to me just now, it's a companionable thing to do too. There's you, the compassionate observer, and there's the mind, dancing not too graciously.

When I was in Bali last year, the love meditation my husband and I did in a group had a very lasting impression on me. If I need comfort I go back to that room in my mind. We were invited to feel into the deepest love we had for another person and then, with the most divine music playing, to take that love and give it to ourselves. This was a magical moment for me and so I repeat it alone as required. I pour the love inside myself, like taking a jug of healing water and pouring it over my body.

It's a strange walk, the cancer experience, both for the person with cancer and the person accompanying the person with cancer. AI called it 'anticipatory grief' and encouraged me to reach out to a group of people going through a similar experience. I will think about it.

Transformation into power exchange

 If I go back two years in time, there was a conversation one day with someone well versed in the BDSM community that didn't make sense to me. I took that to mean, since I am not well versed in the BDSM community, that I must be wrong or ignorant.

He was talking about training submissives, (I admit that that sort of language still has both an appeal and a distaste for me), and I listened along, a bit confused. Eventually, I asked a question.

'I don't understand what you mean exactly,' I said. 'It sounds like you are saying that you can transform a relationship into a D/s dynamic by working on just the submissive, training her.'

Now, I have to paraphrase this conversation according to my recollection obviously, but this is what I remember.

'Think of it like a car... 

(My mind went straight to riding a girl)

...Imagine a guy drives a mini minor. Well, I turn his girl into a BMW.'

I actually went through this sort of 'training', in short form, a big emphasis on 'obedience', but of course this did not create a satisfactory D/s dynamic because what hadn't been satisfactorily sorted were the emotions and subsequent behaviours that had not been addressed and resolved, on both my and my husband's part. On a particular day, he felt rejected by me, and that was enough to blow the newly returned dynamic apart.

Of course, if I could have taken back that day and replayed it, I would. I have reminded myself that if it hadn't happened on that day, it would have happened on another day. It would most certainly have happened because his vulnerabilities and distresses still lay just below the surface. 

What hadn't been accounted for was that we had come out of a difficult period of time where he was spending a great deal of time at his desk trying to resolve business matters. He felt vulnerable about his health. There wasn't enough time spent together, next to no fun; inadequate displays of affection; low priority of our marriage in our lives.

Yet, we were being told we were codependent on one another. We were being encouraged to spend time apart. Yes, I had to come to terms with the fact that I needed to create a life on my own if I were to handle the situation, since he was utterly wedded to his desk, I understood that.  But how exactly was this going to create the connection and passion I craved in my life if he hadn't been 'trained' as well?

By turning me into a BMW and leaving him unable to find space in his mind for anything much than work - in other words, leaving him feeling that the sky would fall if he took his eyes off the business and political scene - or off his health, or that he was in emotional danger of feeling that he could do something 'wrong' in our relationship - the car, albeit traded in for a better model, was still sitting in the garage.

Looking back on it, the best advice would have been like this.

'We need to look at the marriage. Sort through feelings and emotions that have accrued in recent years. We build into it, once the feelings and emotions are expressed and resolved, new behaviours that will prepare the marriage for the next stage. It may take up to a year to prepare the marriage for a power exchange that will last. If you are up for that, let's do it.'

This is what I would advise. Make your relationship the very best it can be, based on evidence such as from research undertaken by the Gottmans. Consider work with a therapist trained in emotions focused therapy. Maybe, at that point, you are happy as clams. Maybe you want more, a power dynamic. Well then, now you're good to go.

Just the two of us

 In just a few days, my husband and I are officially empty nesters. My youngest son moves out to live on campus for his final semester of college. It's a landmark event, one that puts us back where we were 40 years ago, just the two of us.

It's going to be quite a thing. We're still in the big family house. We will be 'rattling around' as people like to say. Once upon a time, the people that lived in this house used an intercom system to communicate with one another but that hasn't worked for many years, so I have tended to send a text when dinner is ready, and people appear.

Without a student in the house those long gruelling days of academic writing have, more or less, come to an end. That is to say, I won't be surprised if he returns on certain days to discuss a topic, and I won't be surprised if my days as editor have not entirely come to an end, but he's remarkably talented, so all things being equal, I can hang up my academic assistant boots.

Truthfully, I have considered taking up an academic pursuit of my own, but at the same time, I want to see how it goes for my husband and I to return to a state of 'just the two of us'. I don't know how long he will be well enough for us to share time out and about, so I don't want to compromise the next period of time with distraction. It's a hard choice because there's a big part of me that would like to get qualified and act as a therapist. Maybe two therapists in the family are one too many. Maybe it's my time to slide quietly into activities that provide me with joy. 

When I think about this time, I imagine time carved out for pleasure. I keep banging on that we need to walk every day and now I can turn that into a reality. We can head out the door and, in any direction, we can walk to a coffee shop or a park or a supermarket. We can simply walk the neighbourhood and enjoy the many styles of architecture and beautiful gardens. We can walk to the club we both belong to, and that's on the agenda again too.  A simple lunch or dinner, maybe a sauna or a swim; for me, an exercise class, or for him, some gym time.

Reduced tickets turned up in my inbox yesterday for our town's Symphony Orchestra, so I bought those and booked into the restaurant nearby for an early dinner. We've bought plane tickets for a holiday and started to book accommodation. We are getting into the spirit of this empty nesting, with blind faith that everything will be all right.

We have marked a day in our calendar when we return to the holiday house together and put it back together now that the painters have gone. Together, it won't be so overwhelming. In fact, it will be fun.

In two days, my eldest son arrives with his two sons and wife. Apart from a few hours at the beginning of his life I haven't seen little L and I am excited to hold him again. He's been an angel.

So, maybe, just maybe, we've paid our debts to the Gods of Fire and Fury, and we can enter a time of peace and quietude. Well, mostly, this world rumbles on, the Earth shakes, but seasons come and seasons go, just as they have always done, and maybe we have entered a season where we can take care of one another and find pleasure and purpose in one another's company. We have built a beautiful family together so now maybe we can rest a little on our laurels.

Belief

 Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you to be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”

Bonds

 It's impressive that the generation of my children have made the effort to know something about psychology, which is a considerable improvement from my generation where we just got on with life as best we could, clueless about matters such as trauma, and attachment theory, and feelings.

I was with my daughter this week and she told me the story of her close friend who I know well. She's a beautiful girl, very good hearted and kind, a primary school teacher, but she has run into one man after the other with issues.  We thought she may have finally found Mr Right recently, but it turns out not to be the case.

He is a divorced man with two children and to his credit he told K when they first started dating that he needed a good deal of space. She was prepared to work with that until it became obvious that he was avoidant, even to the point of making criticisms of her body that would make any girl think twice about his desire to be in the relationship at all.

These days, K has boundaries and can see red flags and after giving it her best for six months she called the relationship off. She has learned to be happy single rather than unhappy in an unsuitable union. She had little difficulty in letting go, a far cry this time from the 'on and off' relationship she was in a for a few years with a very controlling partner.

There's a silver lining in disappointment in that those situations provide an opportunity to tap into strengths, I am reminded of the novel 'The Women' about an American nurse who went to Vietnam, found herself  after the war let down by the man she loved, but this pushed her to find meaning in her life in a different way; everlasting friendship with women friends, and even a new, much stronger relationship with her parents. No. she didn't have the children she would have cherished but she did find purpose and satisfaction in a different way.

I am an old-fashioned girl who is never happier deeply and securely bonded to an attachment figure - thus the attraction of a D/s dynamic, but I can see there are other ways to live quite satisfactorily.

Dance steps

 One of my sons is a Counsellor. His speciality is children, but through study he has needed to become well versed in various theories. There are the usual suspects, such as Cognitive Behavior Therapy and Acceptance and Commitment Theory. More recently, came Emotion Focused Therapy, both for individuals and couples.

We chat about these topics. I have always been interested in what makes people tick. I found myself reading books and academic papers that took my fancy, and in that reading, I came to see that Sue Johnson of Canada, who created Emotion Focused Therapy, really did have it all figured out.

In a nutshell, she believed, as John Bowlby before her, that we are all, despite our differences, much the same. We are wired for connection and to bond with a few precious people. Our survival as mammals is dependent on that bonding and if that isn't secure, we tend to behave in fairly predictable ways. We either become demanding or we withdraw.

Therein lies the distancer-pursuer dance. It's a clumsy sort of dance that benefits no-one. It needs to come to a halt. New music needs to be chosen. A different sort of dance needs to be learned.

Maybe two years ago now, I was convinced by a relative stranger to try to retrieve a dynamic in my marriage that had, much to my chagrin, fizzled out. I was convinced by someone that I had been talking to, a therapist of sorts, that it was easy enough to reinvigorate that dynamic; that it could be done in no time. I wanted to believe that, and I went along with the plan. It turned out to be two of the most challenging years of my life. In hindsight, I should have trusted my gut.

It is extremely hard to go against the grain, to act in a way that is the opposite to how one has, reasonably satisfactorily, survived up to this point. These are reasonably automatic responses and need to be broken down. This will often require the assistance of a trusted and reliable therapist; one who will act as an attachment figure; the model of secure attachment. These automatic responses of ours are so ingrained and often lie below our awareness. I have a reasonable level of intelligence, but it has taken me a long time to bring instinctive reactions to the surface on my own, that is, without help.

Both my husband and I were brought up in a generation by parents who simply had no emotional attunement with their children. It was challenging for them to have anything but well behaved, compliant children, so neither of us learned how to express our emotions in an honest and attuned way. In fact, I would say, emotions equalled danger. 

I have come to realise that my husband has had no capacity to be with my emotions. I've spent the vast majority of our almost 50 years together in a, comparatively speaking, quiet and controlled state. If I bring to him a small amount of distress, that's okay, but anything more, dysregulates him. I recall now the many times I have said, 'I can't talk with you about my distress looking for soothing because what happens is I feel more distressed after we talk'. There was the clue.

There has been something about my being 'emotional' that has triggered in him, instinctively and beyond his ability to do anything about it, danger.

We made great inroads this week when I shared, quietly and calmly, the fact that his massive loss of weight is very difficult for me. I have a muscle memory of where my arms should go, my hands should go, what I will feel when my hands hold him in bed. 

To his great credit, he listened without reacting defensively, and he shared that he feared being rejected by me. 

It has felt for so long that I have a need to get closer and he has a need to withdraw more, whilst all the while we both crave the other's love.

I was sitting outside a Japanese restaurant during the week eating my miso soup and watching people go by. I watched men go in and out of the supermarket next door and a thought popped into my head. Where on earth would I ever find someone to replace my husband? Where would I ever find a suitable Owner? There is so vey much that is right about our union, except for this dumb pursuer-distancer dance.

Sharing our vulnerabilities, that's the first step in choosing new music; feeling into what we feel so that we can transform the feelings into something new and better.

Embracing difference

 One of the thoughts that used to come to mind often was that time mid-morning when one might make a cup of tea or coffee and have a time out. I would try to imagine all the other people doing something similar and that was a pleasant thought - all the people in their homes or out on the site or on the farm brewing themselves a cup of tea. I suppose, I was imagining that the brewing of tea, or coffee, created a connection, an imagined connection.

I have been thinking about the power of imagination lately. I suppose you could call it manifestation, although I don't often have that element of 'this will happen' in it. I simply use my imagination to take a little break from what is happening in front of me. I have always done this. I think another word might be disassociation, I might take myself out of a dull conversation for a few seconds and just think my own thoughts.

I delighted recently in a story Jimmy Fallon told about growing up knowing that he would be on Saturday Night Live. The interviewer asked him, 'what if it hadn't happened?'. He was emphatic. There was just no way it wouldn't have happened in some form, he said. There was no way he wouldn't have made it happen.

My husband said something similar last night over dinner. When he was young, he said, on the farm, he came to have this feeling that he would do something special out in the big world. He wasn't entirely sure quite what, although by the time he was ending his undergraduate degree, he knew it would involve world markets. When he achieved his dream, I think it was the happiest time of his life.

He is very unwell now, but he has this huge belief that he will get better, and seeing how he manifested his dream job, it's hard not to believe him, whilst at the same time, I said to him yesterday, 'Can you please let me take it one step at a time?'

We are very different in this way. I much prefer things to be steady. I like the day to day. I like morning tea. Like that. I like making dinner. I like meeting up with my adult children. I enjoy the beautiful morning sun we are experiencing this winter. I like it when the camelias bloom.

Well, of course, this was the attraction for me, wasn't it? The polar opposite of myself. The guy with adventure in his soul; the dream in his heart. Who else could take me out of myself in this way? Who else could challenge a degree of complacency in my being, the comfort in the day to day?

Man, at times it has been a struggle. My inner being wants to scream, can't things just be normal? But that's the thing, isn't it? What is normal anyway?

You know what though? I think I am at peace with the different perspectives now. I'm curious about it rather than discombobulated about it. I think after nearly 50 years, I am getting used to it.

It is what it is

 I would like to think that the sky is the limit; that two people can get so close that they can reveal themselves, perhaps not in entirety, but close enough.

We keep secrets from one another, don't we? We keep the secrets that we must. We shelter the other not just from parts of ourselves, but from parts of themselves. We understand that complete disclosure wouldn't be in anyone's interests.

What happened in childhood, the attachment issues that may have appeared back then, potentially even in the preverbal stage are enduring.  They leave marks on the psyche. It's territory that should be explored only with a well-trained therapist, not a partner, so sometimes one just adapts and makes allowance for, and compromises with a partner, in the overarching interests of what is.

I do believe that an attachment style is able to be adjusted; that is, that one can go from an insecure attachment style to one that is secure. I am testament to that.

I have taken a test a few times to ascertain my attachment style. It focused on asking me questions about my mother, my father and my husband. I came out as having a disorganized attachment style. In one case, I was said to be 'avoidant' with similar questions. But I noticed just yesterday when I was whiling away time awaiting the cooking of the vegetables that the test score revealed I was actually quite close to the category of secure if you took away the result of the attachment to my mother. It was the result of the relationship with my mother that had statistically reduced my overall score.

I suddenly realized how flawed this logic was. Sure, no doubt, I needed to look after myself as a child whilst, of course, wanting to be nurtured, but should that affect my functioning score now? So, I went elsewhere and immediately noticed that there were no questions about my parents - one dead for over 30 years and the other one at death's door - bur rather lots of questions about my thought patterns and daily patterns now. What do you know, I came out as Secure.

This was delightful news and signified buckets of growth. I have been feeling it, especially recently. It comes down to those few words - It is what it is. Acceptance.

It's really important, I believe, to have plenty of empathy for the people with insecure attachment. Sometimes they are obvious in their presentation but often they are not. Even well trained and highly experienced therapists need months if not years to figure them out, so it's not so much a job for us to figure them out, as it is to accept that there is some trauma there. 

Try your best to stay emotionally regulated yourself. Stay calm. Maintain appropriate boundaries for yourself. When you hit their brick (emotional) wall, and you will feel it when you do - recognize you have gone as far into that neck of the woods as you can today and let that expedition go. Only ever do what you can do without there being harm done. 

No matter what defences a person puts up, we are all fundamentally the same in that we all want to get close. Sometimes, people just don't know how. It just doesn't feel safe. You do what you can do. It's all we can do. There's peace in knowing that.

Flowing

 The last entry was Wednesday, a horrible day. I just read back on that entry which I had written first thing that day. I was motoring along as best I could when I got a call for permissions for my mother to go into palliative care at the nursery home - in other words, no heroics - and I found the double Dutch too much. I heard the word 'infection' which didn't jive with the word 'palliative'. It wasn't until the next morning - yesterday - when a nurse I knew well rang, and by then I was able to have the conversation, a perfectly orderly and reasonable conversation, and we were all on the same page.

It feels like I can have the thought 'just flow with it', that that thought is lodged in mind and body, and then so many minutes later, tears flow, and I am not so good at flowing. It's not in the plan, to fall apart, and then I do, which is what lead me to write now, again, first thing in the morning.

Wednesday was almost mad with the many things and thoughts I dealt with. I ended that day with my son wanting to talk about accepting a place at a college to end out his Masters. This means in so many weeks, he will formally move out of home, my last chicken. Of course, I said he should accept it, he has saved the money to do so, and it will be a good experience for him.

And then, he sort of had a meltdown, wondering what would happen to our dog who we had buried in the garden if I sold the house. I guaranteed him that if and when that time came, we would bury her remains in our garden by the sea. He clearly was feeling vulnerable too, and that was his expression of it. I made a mental note that as soon as possible we needed a dog in our lives. It's the first time we have been without a dog, and we need the commonsense of a dog. Dogs definitely flow.

It makes sense there's a certain amount of processing going on, for both of us. It's not since just before Covid, when all the boys of the family had a European holiday skiing the Alps (and thank God for that) that I have been alone in the house a good deal of the time. Is it some colliding of the stars that I fell two weeks ago and have been tending to a sore knee? Do things simply happen all at once for a reason, I wonder.

Today, we finally pick up my son's car - long story - but it's another reason, his borrowing of my car to get to work and university - that kept me in a contemplative state, a transitional state, a preparation state.

When there was the opportunity, I used to attend a Dharma Dialogues gathering. I am not so inclined now that it is online, it's just not the same for me. I recall Catherine, the host, say that we do this, sit silently and then talk when moved to do so, about life's big all-encompassing thoughts. We do this, she said, gathering strength, flexing the muscle, so that when things do fall apart, we are ready. 

I find myself noticing little things. I think one notices different things at times when they resonate with you. I heard Rachel Ward talk briefly about thinking that the farm they owned wasn't something she could involve herself in, until the kids had gone and it occurred to her, that she did in fact have a place there. It meant she had to learn from scratch, daunting but do-able.

And I heard my husband on a telephone call to me, about a subject he usually handles, say to me, 'you'll work it out'. That's not something he typically says.

It feels a bit like the material I am reading about 'attachment' and healing with attachment modalities. There's that psychoanalytic sort of approach, working with emotions, bringing them up, creating new meaning or strengths or outcomes or solutions that way. Then there is the practical approach, the solutions approach, maybe more the cognitive behaviour approach, addressing dissonant thoughts.

It's a beautiful thing, these new modalities, where the therapist is seen as the guide, to help the client see that all that was needed was actually already there inside the person. Maybe the material of the life story needed to be massaged a bit, like a 'trip' that might lead you to see that, as an example, the man you feared so much in your mind, as a boy, is now no threat to you. Your body can relax.

I wonder if, in a way, I've been doing my own therapy in the past two weeks, spending a lot of time alone, and gently guiding my mind to see things in a new way; gathering creative solutions and feeling into my natural strengths - growing.

I love watching 'Couples Therapy'. I watch it on SMS on Demand, but I think Americans watch it on Showtime?? Anyway, this couple in Season 4 jumped ship. She's a psychoanalyst herself, as bright as a button, but she just couldn't give her husband what he wanted, this elusive sense of 'home'. He was demanding that she come up with the solution, and she just couldn't engineer it. It seemed doomed to fail because it was like asking 'hand over the money' when the money simply didn't exist. Her frustration was palpable.

You have to bend. You have to look squarely at the cards you are dealt, and you have to play your hand with skill and quiet courage. You have to be ready for anything.

I close my eyes. I see the river and take inspiration. Here I go. I flow.

When things fall apart

 I am struck by this experience of accompanying someone in a dire prognosis. No doubt, for each person or couple the experience is unique to them. In my case, my husband has made no bucket lists but rather sees each new day as an opportunity to reach for a cure to his condition.

It's incredibly frustrating to both of us that a potential cure is not allowed in this country and we may in fact soon have to board a plane to purchase the no-harm medication elsewhere. I am no conspiracy theorist but there's no doubt that there is profit at the heart of such decisions to refuse access to potentially lifesaving medications currently inexpensive.

 I have been forced to look inside my own mind for a way forward, for a way to approach each day, navigating his approach and my own, one more centred in the facts before me. I have seen this positive thinking bear fruit and I have seen it become a failed harvest. 

I am reminded at just this very moment of the title of Pema Chodron's book, 'When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times'. I must order this book today for it seems timely.

There is no question that it is indeed a difficult time. I dreamt last night of being in war, of having to navigate around the enemy to be safe and I woke, needing to escape the dream. I lay there, aware of the reason for the dream. I was in a deeply vulnerable place.

I think when you are in a long marriage, especially when it began when you were still in your teens, the thought of losing that mate is so confronting, hiding in denial, or anger, or disbelief, seems far better an option than sitting in the facts of the matter. I have used this strategy for quite some time.

Who knows why or when one begins to let that outer shell of security go, but it has gone. My mind seems to be stuck in the moment. Will this be the last anniversary, will this be the last year. Every transaction, every 'good morning', every decision seems so poignant.

I once heard Blanche d'Apulget talk about her last year with Bob Hawke (a former Australian Prime Minister) and she said it was the best year of their lives because it had been so intimate. I am not sure that my husband will be so vulnerable in the last year of his life if it is to take time away from the task of staying longer. I am not sure he sees the value in that sort of approach, and I am not expecting it.

Rather, right now, it's an accompanying kind of task, and in many ways, my role is to provide comfort and support for him to do what he thinks he should do.

We both are not inclined to share distress or worry with our children, but my eldest son was in town last week and it was impossible to completely hide my state of mind from him. Goodbyes are never easy and he saw my tears as we said goodbye. It rattled him and he has been checking in on me as much as he can in his busy life. I noticed him say in one telephone call, 'It will be better when...' and of course that's not a bad thing to say. It was a rough day when I saw him, no doubt about it, a sort of rock bottom from which I have risen.

 I remember once much earlier this year say to a confidante that I felt "stuck". I don't feel stuck any more. I feel like I am truly living the days as best I can, not expecting too much of myself and at the same time not giving up or giving in.

My youngest son is here until he finishes his Masters degree in Counselling. He chats with me about the material in his course and it's the material on Attachment Theory I find so fascinating. There's no question I have not always been securely attached, nor my husband, but I like to read that this attachment is flexible. It can get better.

I'd love to sink into the arms of someone - anyone - who was willing to be the comforter. It's not easy to be the source of strength for others, to be the one 'all right', 'fine'. There's the temptation to fall apart and wait for someone to come along, perhaps, to save me. Since I doubt that could or would happen, I find myself a little avoidant, for sure. I am soaking in my own company. At the same time, there is a voice whispering in my ear a great deal, 'You will be okay. I am here with you.' I am not sure who exactly is whispering, but I appreciate her company.

Purpose

 Due to some hypnotic work of recent times, I have felt calm, in spite of the turbulence, both close and far. There's no doubt that the trances worked for me and I know this is very special work because I hear hypnotists on the Internet in various places like Spotify and it does nothing.

Even so, I do have my moments when my world can feel like it is blowing up. My husband will return home from seeing his oncologist. He speaks to me matter of factly, and I sit there as his active listener. But last evening there came a moment when my body reacted in a way that I had to notice. I suppose you would call it a panic attack.

"Can I ask you to pause for a moment? My body is overloaded."

In fact, it didn't last long, and I was soon breathing freely again. I think by acknowledging the bodily reaction and giving it some attention, things settled down.

I am not sure whether to call it 'anticipatory grief', or catastrophic thinking or something else, but maybe it's just a natural thing to be a bit panicked about difficult news.

I am proud of the way my husband handles his cancer. If one avenue closes, he simply looks for a new route, all the while staying positive and believing that he can make a difference to the outcome. This makes it much easier for me than for many other spouses.

He is also remarkable in the way that he continues to enjoy all the little joys of life. I had moved the Fiddle Fig to the front of the house where it gets more light. He noticed the abundantly healthy new growth this morning and was genuinely excited about seeing the progress of the plant. He is an infectiously positive person. He has fallen too many times to count, got up and dusted himself off just as many times.

My life, our lives, may well have changed forever. My husband said he would like to return to our hotel in Bali. This is an ideal destination for a holiday because we can go to the Pyramids of Chi for meditations every day if we choose. I started to make arrangements, considered dates and so forth. He was keen but at the same time he sees the oncologist again in six weeks and he may wish to begin a new treatment that requires him being here. Scheduling something has become something outside of our control.

In the meantime, we work away at putting our lives in place. He's actually expanding his business rather than starting to close it down and this is in line with the fact that he has never thought the idea of retirement is for him.

I am completely aware that my life has always and will always spin around my husband. It's the relationship, our dynamic; the way that suits us both. There is no changing this.

There's a bit of a trick they use in psychology, in couples therapy, where they might get one of you to do the opposite of where they want you to go ultimately. That's what happened to me a while back. My submission was removed (I am here to tell you they can do that!). 

When I finally accepted that this is what had happened to me, not a trick of the mind, but absolutely a state of mind where I no longer had access to even my erotic fantasies, I screamed bloody murder. I did not go quietly into that good night. My submission is so very much an embodied and enduring part of me that I was rageful about it, until it was returned to me, at a deeper level. Then, I was fine.

I have had some pretty confusing and confronting situations over my life, but nothing was quite so confronting as those ten weeks when I felt like what maybe a regular girl feels like. No, it was worse than that. It felt like I was in a desert without water supply.

There's another trick of the psychology trade where they might put the work into creating change in the quiet one (comparatively quiet, that is). That also happened to me, this time at my request. When I changed, everything changed. Somebody has to be willing to stand up and say, 'I can do this. Choose me.' That's how a 'system', a marriage, can evolve.

In a few days it is Mother's Day here and I am fortunate to say that I have four children of which I am immensely proud and five divine dear grandchildren. 

Over the past few years, I have learned to let judgment go; to just consider that we are all doing our best, except the manipulators, thieves and cheats. They need to do better.

My purpose has been to love; nothing more, nothing less. I do what I do with that intention, knowing that to grieve is to love. They come to us cap in hand. That's the journey. That's the human experience. The sooner we understand this, the better.

Daily Maintenance Spanking

 A couple of weeks ago I was given an idea which I immediately embraced. Thus, a joint email was sent to both my husband and me. It outlined an idea which the kink friendly therapist we have been using, on and off, had found to be successful with several of his recent clients.

In essence the idea was for me to be given a daily maintenance spanking. We would be working towards five minutes a day. It was no problem to work up to that amount of time, but to cap it at five minutes. No other directive was given, except that if the spanking led to a play session or sex, that was fine.

I had mentioned to my husband to expect an email and once he received it, and I let the dust settle a bit, I asked if it was something he thought might work for us. He was fine with it, he said, so long as I was fine with it. I have noticed this pattern, that he wants what would make his girl happy, consistently.

Several days went by. I admit I was a bit frustrated. I think he noticed that too. He came to me one morning out of the blue and said we would start now. It was a loving spanking, peppered with lots of soft and loving touch.

We got to Friday and that was a very busy day for me. We had had a lovely evening out together at a concert and by the evening I was looking for a shower and bed. He came to me at a low energy point, and I wasn't able to be sweet enough in my request for a shower first. He noticed. He always notices these things.

I got the rounds of the kitchen later. He made it clear that he was in charge of when things happened and how they happened. He was quite right about that.

The following morning the spanking was memorable, and my memory of that day is that I was quiet, co-operative, sore and present. It was far too soon to know what this daily spanking was doing to me, to us. Each day had been a bit different to the one before, in terms of a reaction, so I was in a 'just noticing' state. I noticed that I was a bit out of sorts but only in an internal way. Just, noticing.

The following morning, I asked if he was okay with using his hand. I had a feeling about this, and he admitted that his hand had acquired a deep bruise. He showed it to me. He is on a lot of medication, and I had already wondered if it was going to be an impediment.

It would have to be an implement, I assured him. I didn't want to see him hurt. That wasn't the idea at all. 

We both did a search of suitable items. He had a wooden paddle and a leather one. I had a wooden hairbrush. The cane wasn't going to work, nor the flogger, the strap or the crop. They were all there somewhere, but we only searched for the paddles. I wouldn't say I am not a masochist but nor am I an ardent masochist. I can be quickly brought to heel at the thought of a sound beating.

He selected the leather paddle, because he is sensible and that was enough of an upgrade from his hand for now. In truth, his hand hurt more the previous day, but the paddle induced sexual excitement almost immediately, and he struggled not to turn it into an instant sexual encounter. 

The man is on androgen replacement therapy so technically speaking what happened isn't supposed to happen. However, spanking can illicit these sorts of results. So, he did that and then spanked again later.

I think a threshold we have to get over is that I can't prevent myself from making a lot of noise when paddled and I think this can throw him off, as if I can't take the pain. It's not easy, for sure, but it's something that has to be worked up to, not at all insurmountable.

It occurred to me, as it would to any sensible person, that there are some issues to address. Is it not the case that after a few weeks of this, one is going to be almost constantly marked? And, what about sexual appetite? What about the ability to concentrate on other matters?

I went looking for material about daily maintenance spanking and found very little of use. One couple has partaken for the past 18 months every single day and has nothing but a glowing report (pun intended) of the practice. That's reassuring, but it does have to be noted we are talking about a self-professed intense sadist and masochist. I wish I could hear from others who are perhaps a little more mainstream in this non-mainstream practice.

So far, all is good. We have both agreed to this and what's important here is that we stick to our agreement.

One thing I have noted already is that it has brought out his desire for a dominant stance overall. We have an agreement that I don't start to eat my dinner before he takes his first bite or tells me I can begin to eat. We had takeout last night, a very rare thing these days, as I usually cook meals that suit his needs, and it completely slipped my mind. He noticed. I was pleased he had noticed. I definitely had erred, and he told me I had earned a disciplinary stroke. 

Ah, he wants to do that too. So be it. I am delighted. I want him to want this.

I think the thing about agreeing to something like a daily spanking is that it is an instant recognition of the polarity between us, an instant recognition of the power dynamic at play. Whilst I don't have months or years of experience of it to be able to recommend it, the initial results are more than satisfactory.

90 days

 I've not been a person who worries too much about New Year resolutions. It did, however, occur to me today that if I were to nominate a period of time, and the time in mind is 90 days, what could I achieve in that time?

In today's political world 90 days sounds like an eternity but in fact it's a rather short period of time - maybe 13 weeks. That's really no time at all. It might be interesting to record the goals, the challenges and achievements of a time period like this. Maybe not a lot changes on the outside, maybe it does, but most interesting, what might change on the inside?

In fact, yesterday I did a lot of work in a single hour. I was led into trance again and we explored the older me, the one close to death, who advised the 60 something me.  That was cool. However, it led to a new feeling, I explained, because my mother was close to the end of her life and beyond being able to say the things that I would love to hear. There was sadness around that.

Back I went down and created for myself a different end to this story where she expressed her love, her pride, her delight in having raised us and watch us live our lives. That was lovely.

This work is complete, we believe. There will be a check-in in 90 days and that has me wondering, what will I be like in 90 days? Will I have grown, will I be content, will I have some new endeavour in which to express creativity?

I am thinking of the Truman Show here and wondering what it would be like to wake up with no history? That's not exactly dementia. My mother has forgotten big slices of her life. She has returned to her childhood with her mother and lives quite happily there. She has taken a few things with her, like her dog who isn't alive, but in her mind, she is. It's all a bit jumbled but it makes sense to her and that's all that matters.

What if we lived in a universe where there was no remembered past and we woke up fresh every morning, ceasing the day? That sounds a bit like that strange series I started watching where the workers forget what they did at work. Hmm

What I mean is, imagine if there really was just 'Now'? 

'Imagine all the people living life in peace."

Anyways, enough ramblings, let's see.

The Unconscious Mind

 I heard someone say this week that when a baby cries and demands your attention, the baby is experiencing anxiety.

I also heard someone say this week that for some children, one of the few times they got their parent's full attention was when they were being spanked and therein lies the kink later.

I have come to know through my own personal experience, that we carry symbols in our minds for states such as anxiety. I am not going to reveal my symbol for anxiety since it is immaterial. You will have your own symbol, just as you have a symbol in the recesses of your mind to transpose the symbol that can enable the anxiety to be deactivated.

I will share that when this was revealed to me, I tried to kill the big angry thing without success and I tried to transform the beast into a sweet, kind, pretty little thing, also with limited success. It wasn't until around two days later, that I was told by the kind, pretty little thing, that the big angry thing roaring in my face wasn't real, it was just a soft, inanimate fluffy toy, that the anxiety lost all its punch.

All was revealed and in doing so, I suddenly have huge control over the anxiety. It's a weird story but also a true one.

It's not the whole of the story because part two of that story is that I got in touch, also in a symbolic way, with the wisest part of myself, and I lessened the control of the voice inside my head that thought she was helping me with her advice, but she no longer was. What had happened was that that voice hadn't taken in that I was no longer young. The advice was no longer working. When order was reestablished, when the Wise Woman was given the deciding vote over all the other voices, everything became clear. (Refer to Internal Family Systems)

Yesterday, being Sunday and a day when we were alone, my husband invited me back into the bedroom to play. He asked me to crawl into the room, something that in ideal circumstances would have been wonderful for me, but my heart wasn't in it. 

'I am sorry, I am not sure I can do this right now,' I said.

I was still kneeling on the floor when he asked me to explain.

'I would rather not,' I said.

I just didn't want a fight. I didn't want to trigger him into feeling some sort of negative state.

He was insistent, and I registered in his voice a real desire to understand.

So, I said it.

I explained about our different brains and how they take things in. I said he was inviting me into a messy room, in a house that he had neglected for years, and that my need for beauty and order was something he wasn't taking seriously. I understood that he felt he had other priorities, and I had been patient, exceedingly patient and understanding, but this was truly hurting my spirit.

'I am not certain you know what you have,' I said.

'Go take a shower,' he said, 'We will go out for breakfast.'

We walked; we talked. We were both calm and we enjoyed our time in the cafe.

When we returned home, he had decided on a home project; again it's immaterial what it was, but in the process of this task, something I had asked for previously a number of times, he began to get clarity himself over what we could achieve ourselves, spending very little money.

In other words, we began to be on the same page.

Was it the spirit and courage of the Wise Woman that had made a difference? It's hard to say, but certainly there was no animosity displayed by either of us.

It's the advice of the other voice (I call her Edwina) that has made me do all sorts of useless things - like fawn, like fight, like freeze; like allow my needs to be neglected.

Yesterday morning, I was just being authentic. I calmly, courageously and confidently expressed my thoughts and feelings and he in turn told me what to do (to take a shower) and I did it.

In a long-term relationship, a power exchange is not a scene. The dominance and submission weaves itself into the fabric of the lives of the people in the exchange.

If a submissive doesn't speak up, (in the right way and when the opportunity presents itself) I think the dominant runs the risk of steam rolling the submissive. He's busy, he's productive, she keeps life humming along for him in a day-to-day way. Where's the problem? As in, where's the problem for him?

I'm not exactly sure why it worked yesterday. I think it was when I talked about beauty and my huge struggles with ugliness and disorder. I told him I wouldn't last in his office for a day. I couldn't sit amongst millions of pieces of paper and files over every surface. My brain would revolt.

I can't see into his mind but I think he saw that first of all, he needed his submissive to see that he was willing to take her feelings into account; that this wasn't a time to ensure obedience but rather this was a time for assuring her that he had respect for her need for beauty and order; that the state of her home mattered to her and always would.

I was told, on good authority, that my anxiety had been removed permanently. I had reason to believe that this had been done before, actual proof. I was hopeful but it seemed too good to be true.

And yet, these changes do seem extraordinarily profound. Each day brings new opportunities to be optimistic and to move forward with confidence.

Thank you, my clever, wonderful unconscious mind. If only I had befriended you before, but it is never too late to learn.

Attachment and containment

 'It's not my job to supervise you,' he said to me. 'You know what to do, so just do it.'

Why is it that the submissive mind, or is it just my mind, wants to feel the firm presence of the dominant?

Because it feels safe. 

There's some ancient, primal, neanderthal part of my brain that wants to know that he notices.

- I put on my bracelet each morning. 

- I take the cocktail of vitamins he insists I take each day. 

- I ask for permission to eat something sweet or to have a glass of wine (I suggested this rule). 

- I turn down our bed each night.

- I refer to him as 'Sir' in play situations and when he is cross and wants to enforce my place.

- I advise when I am leaving the house, where I am going and when I will return.

- I wish him 'Good morning, Sir' each morning.

- I wait until he is ready to eat before I begin to eat.

All these things I do, that sit beside all the other many ways I serve and assist him, and of course, all the ways he serves and assists me in more overarching ways.

The goal is not to fight, but to discuss calmly what needs to be discussed. He has the ultimate say.

In his very late 60s, he is busier than ever. We were at dinner last night and I took the listening position as he got off his chest and processed all the myriads of things currently on his plate. I knew he needed to do that. 

In between, he told me off for getting flummoxed earlier. 'Just do what you know to do. I am not going to supervise you. But if you need it, the cane still sits in my cupboard. If you need a couple of stripes across your ass to get the message, I can do that.'

I momentarily put my hands over my face. We were sitting in a restaurant, and I didn't instinctively do that because I was embarrassed. I did it because I knew I hadn't behaved well.

It has come to my attention (I research stuff, as you may have gathered) that I have a somewhat 'disorganised attachment' style. I get anxious and I get fearful, and I don't necessarily always have control over those outcomes. My emotions can be felt very keenly, and I can't always self soothe my way out of them.

Containment helps. Knowing somatically that I am safe and that the fear is more in my head than it is real, is something I work on every day.

Yoga is my therapy. Bessel van der Kolk of 'The Body Keeps the Score' fame is entirely correct in my opinion. The trauma is held in the body and bodywork is needed to release it. I will be doing yoga until I simply can't do it anymore, I go to a trauma informed yoga studio. I wouldn't go anywhere else, and I practice the art of being at peace within myself, even when things get hard. This is the whole point of yoga.

Every day is a bit of a challenge at the same time as it is a blessing. 

Ceasefire

 I said to my husband this morning, "I feel like I have been through something, and I feel like I have come out the other side of whatever that was". It's hard to explain it further because I am not sure myself how to put words around a feeling I had that I had been asked to be something that I simply cannot be.

I tried. I really did. I had been asked, as a form of marital therapy, to become more of the person who initiates; more independent and autonomous. I felt a big fat loser for failing to become the aggressor, the more self-directed person - until - I remembered something that Deity had said to me more than a few times...

'Can a kitten suddenly transform to a tiger?' (He didn't say exactly that but that's a fair example of the things he would say to me.)

To digress a little, he would also say, "can a table have thoughts or feelings?' but that's another story for another day.

My husband has been wonderful over the past few weeks sitting with me, over a late dinner, or together on the couch, listening, listening and listening some more.

He could see I was confused, discombobulated, far outside the state I love best, equanimity.

No-one's patience is eternal and eventually he started making observations and asking questions. 

"Do you think you are regretting some behaviours and decisions?"

"Do you think you are being fair in your assessments?"

Honestly, we navigated a lot of territory, so I can't remember all that much of what he said and what I said, except that I felt a whole bucketful of shame for being me; some great qualities, some not so great qualities, like us all, but as well, a sense of shame for wanting what I want; union.

Lately, I had realized that I was bashing my head against a brick wall, the way someone might do when the frustration overwhelms. I came to see that was a useless exercise. My head was hurting, and I wasn't getting the result I wanted. The brick wall was still a brick wall. My head had had no effect on the brick wall, and it never would. Something had to change but it wouldn't be the brick wall.

Then, this morning, as I lay there in the dark, silent, it occurred to me. The revelation was this. I am sick of trying to be better than I am right now. Sure, we can all grow, bit by bit, but I don't want to fixate on this right now. 

Instead, why not focus on skills - to be a better cook, a better writer, a better gardener. Why not focus on that?

The moment I did decide to do this, it was as if my mind did a rejig, the way a washing machine will rejig to get the clothes balanced, and I began to feel calm and settled. It was almost as if all the 'parts' inside my head breathed a sigh of relief at once and said, 'Thank God, she's going to give herself a break. She's going to just be herself. Put down your weapons. It's a ceasefire.'

For the past few nights my husband has come to bed at the same time as me and he quietly massages parts of my body - arms, lower back, shoulders. It's a piece of heaven for me. I fall asleep like this, and I stay asleep until morning.

I want and I need, his solidity. When I have that, I feel submissive down to my bones. I feel me and I feel authentic. I feel whole... I feel wonderful.

Needing more or needing less

I bought myself the book titled 'Healing Developmental Trauma' by Laurence Heller. In this book, it explains the various responses to early developmental trauma. From memory there are five categories, and I feel confident in saying that I fall into the 'attunement' category. I have a longing for connection, to be attuned to someone else.

This falls in line with my submissive nature, I believe, and with my desire for a very strong connection with my mate, perhaps stronger than I am going to find in a vanilla marriage. I felt this as a young woman, well, as a teenager actually. I saw 'The Story of O' and resonated on a number of levels. It was profoundly arousing to me, absolutely, but it also felt like a slice of heaven to imagine having that deep sense of intimacy with someone else.

I think my husband's developmental trauma fits into the Trust category and whilst I hadn't thought about it like this before, he struggles to be dependent on someone, the opposite of my response to early developmental trauma. He lost his mother as a teenager, it was a shock, and it makes sense that the unconscious mind should decide that he cannot afford to need someone who could be taken away at a moment's notice, again.

So, he does depend on me for consistent support and simply being here, but it would seem from that chapter, he doesn't want to be so dependent on me as a deep D/s structure would require. Depth, in and of itself, maybe is something that he somatically resists. This chapter made sense to me as I know him and as I know his history. In this way, there is only so far we can go in a D/s dynamic. 

His (undiagnosed) ADHD is a factor as well. He needs a lot of time alone. He would say he needs the time because he has a relentless pile of work to get through, but it's more than that. I have noticed this need for as long as I have known him and that's almost 50 years.

I took quite a bit of time to consider this. What exactly would be the point of insisting this not be so? Can I, frustrated with the weather, stop the sun from bearing down this February, or insist that the Rain Gods do their job?

I did a flow yoga class last evening, not especially good, I thought, until Shavasana, when you lay like a corpse and absorb the benefits of your practice. I was calm, enjoying the heat of my body starting to reduce, when I noticed that thoughts were almost gone and instead there was a white light in front of my closed eyes, a bit like fog.

There is a person in my life that I thought about, someone close to the end of their life whose face came before me, putting the fog in the background, sort of encircling the face. My mind seemed to stop, and then the face dissolved into the fog; gone. 

It reminded me of a thought I have often had; that all our little worries dissolve into the past when we are gone. The worries were some sort of illusion, the world didn't need them and wouldn't be hanging onto them. In that moment, it felt like the needing more had also dissolved. At least, I had a taste of it.

Us

 For those who haven't read this e-journal before, let me recap the past year or so.

We engaged a sort of sex therapist with the idea that we wanted a more formal and satisfying D/s relationship. There was considerable derailment around whether we were codependent or not, blah, blah, blah. As opposed to providing a sense of calm and equanimity - always my goal - there was a long period of dishevelment and analysis, never a good thing.

There was a 10-week period around 15 months ago where I was in a no-man's land. That is, my submissive thoughts had been removed via hypnotic trance, and ultimately, they were returned with some more intensity. If you should ever find yourself wondering if this is a good idea, all I can say is, I do not recommend the process.

However, once the submission was returned with gusto, for a few weeks, it was a dream come true. My submission was attached to orgasm and obedience, and I revelled in it. We both did.

There was a day over (our) summer when things didn't go so well. He interrogated me about my thoughts and in the end, I expressed some fears around the status quo (unrelated to the relationship per se but rather around my sense of safety. He can tolerate miles more risk than me and that's what that was about).

This set us deeply off track in term of the oh so new intense dynamic. He simply stopped being sexually dominant.

It's hard to put in words the sense of loss. Having waited for so long for him to be this way, the rug was pulled from under my feet so soon after it had begun.

We both wore the responsibility of the failure. It's like we didn't know how to repair, we honestly didn't know what to do.

I started to talk about the Contract, a BDSM sort of Contract, one of fair substance and detail, finalising it and getting it signed. He sort of agreed but he actually did next to nothing (read nothing) to sort this. I would write a draft, and he would look at it and in more recent times, sometimes he would say something like, 'I don't see how you can have so much input into it, it doesn't feel right'. I would reply, 'So can you give your input?'

Maybe two months ago, he agreed to sit down and discuss it with me, and we took notes. It was a great session, but still something was holding him back. It remained incomplete and unsigned. He later shared that it felt like a business contract and as such required line by line analysis and he didn't have the time or inclination for it.

I started listening to Andrew and Dawn at Dom Sub Devotion and for the first time, it all made so much sense. Here was a man who had lived in a longish marriage who had come to his wife and asked for a power dynamic, like me.

Slowly, carefully, artfully, with deep respect and wisdom he had become the architect of their lives such that she could sink into her authenticity as he could sink into his. I was completely smitten.

So, I thought about all the elements of their power dynamic that I loved and in one sitting, one afternoon, whilst my husband was at work, I wrote us a new and short Contract. I think I wrote it in ten minutes because it simply flowed out of me.

I sent it in a text to my husband and when he saw his phone and read it, he sent me back a row of hearts. Later, he told me it was perfect.

In spite of all the mutterings about me being codependent to my husband, I am not. I am and always have been an independent gal, perfectly able to entertain and look after myself. I need love and I need attention, just like any submissively oriented girl. Bringing up four children, I often couldn't find time for myself. Yes, I was a devoted mother, but I am in a different era of my life and I can do self-care. I do have boundaries. 

I have, twice in my life, been subject to a form of love bombing. I used to berate myself for falling prey to this, but I have stopped doing that. I am probably no more and no less vulnerable to that sort of behaviour than any other girl who experienced some neglect as a child. I liked the adoration and when the devaluation started to take place, it took a little while for my brain to sort it, but sort it, it did.

That said, it feels authentic and pleasing to be in a D/s relationship. I enjoy being able to express my submissive nature. I'm perfectly okay with that.

I am happy to share the Contract here, for those who might resonate with a contract that has no BDSM notions and practices specifically laid out. We are in a long-term loving relationship and a consensual non-consensual relationship is what does it for us when all is well between us, as it is now.

Just before I do, I would like to share a recent happening when I, in my head, used the tenor of the Contract to remedy a situation.

We had had a very active period of time, interstate, and immersed in activities - fun, but exhausting. In the Uber on the way home I thought about what would be, a very late dinner. I suggested I send to my husband's text a list of ingredients and he was happy to make the run to the supermarket whilst I watered the garden after the heatwave.

By the time he returned, my tiredness had made me crochety. He isn't used to that, and he was doubly crotchety back. We ate the dinner, and I made my way to bed. We said good night to each other, but I knew he wasn't happy with me.

In the morning, he came to kiss me goodbye and as I put my arms around him, I said, "I am sorry." He said, "That means a lot to me." The dynamic was restored. This was good. I congratulated myself.

Inside, the feeling is different now. I am more at peace. Not all that much has changed on the surface, perhaps, but deep down, it feels far more real.

I require a sense of safety. There's been reason to be fearful in my life and it is a sense of safety I hanker for.

I also have taken from my childhood a bit of unworthiness, which is, quite frankly, an illusion. Sure, I could have achieved more, and maybe I will achieve more, but I have done fine. It's time to tell the self-judging part to back off. I am enough.

I plead guilty to having done my fair share of caretaking, but I have learned so much and put so much in place.

I honestly believe that my husband and I are in fact interdependent. We are there for each other. He has my back, and I have his back. We encourage each other in our individual pursuits, and we still love to spend time together. After 49 years together, I think that's not bad.

So, here's the Contract. I hope it helps someone.

CONTRACT BETWEEN VESTA and HER MAN

Henceforth from this date, C is the leader of this relationship and Vesta is the follower.

C will guide her as necessary and keep her safe, loved and cherished.

Vesta will accept his guidance and devote herself to him and the relationship.

In this way they both will experience polarity and the strongest sense of their own authenticity.

The dynamic will be experienced in moments of polarity as determined by C. Such moments, as determined by him and conveyed to her, would include the morning greeting, the wearing of a piece of jewellery symbolising their relationship, the turning down of the bed, for Vesta to wait to eat until he has his first bite of food, for Vesta to wait for him to open a car door, to order her meal at a restaurant.

C will determine how and when they will play together, and will decide on toys used, impact, pleasure, denial, instruction. Vesta will follow his lead in this, as in all things.

C, in seeking her authenticity, will enforce her expressing her full range of emotions and thoughts, in a respectful way, with final decisions as to direction and substance being determined by C.

This contract is written in expression of their enduring love, to death and beyond.

With love,

Dominant energy

 In one podcast I listen to relating to people in a D/s relationship, one couple found themselves living in different states for an extended period of time due to work commitments. She talked about strategies used to feel safe and loved. It's a few years ago now. I think she wears a night collar to tether her.

My husband and I did, at a few points in our lives together, live in different states, or even different countries, but that was a long time ago.

In the past year or even longer, we have lived almost in a twilight space. He has very long days, sometimes working in the house, but mostly he has left the house early and come home late.

We try hard to make that time late at night work to forge a connection. I start a meal, maybe go to yoga, come home and finish its preparation and then check in with him as to how far away he is.

Last night, we were eating the evening meal at 9.45 pm and I commented lightly that we were working our way towards a South American life where eating at that time was actually eating early.

He offered me a cup of tea after we ate, and we chatted about nothing all that particular whilst we drank the tea; then decided to finish watching a movie we had begun weeks ago, Fall Guy. It doesn't get much mindless than that and we had no mind left to think.

The expression of the dynamic between us right now doesn't have much of an overt show. I was told that I must wear one of the three pieces of jewellery that signify our agreement; one of two bracelets or a small necklace. It depends on the outfit. I had chosen the black and silver bracelet because it's safe to wear to yoga and won't clang or move too much.

If I were or were not in a power dynamic, I would make a well-balanced meal and one I know he would enjoy and suits his health issues. It gives me joy to present the meal to him and if he particularly enjoys it or if it is a new recipe, his compliments are generous.

I mostly clear the kitchen myself. He's dog tired these days after dinner and it's the least I can do.

He asked me, sitting on the couch, if there was something I would like him to do and I said, 'Would you like to rub my toes?' He said back, 'How about you rub my toes?'  I agreed and he lay himself down whilst I began to rub his feet and his toes.

He was very open about how much he was enjoying this and how long it had been since I had done something like this for him, and I registered it as the truth. He knows I adore to be touched and played with, and it is usually me getting that sort of attention from him. I made a mental note to be sure to attend to him in these ways much more regularly.

According to attachment style criteria I fall under the banner of an attunement attachment style. One develops as a child, if necessary, an attachment style to keep them safe. I struggle to ask to have my needs met, or at least I have over time. I think my needs are clear now. I state them with clarity now, but I don't always express them as calmly and respectfully as I should. Patience.

Attunement is not his survival attachment style. Yet, there are elements there. He struggles to tell me what he wants even though he tends to take what he feels he needs. If I were to answer the question, what does your husband need from you most, I would answer, 'plenty of time to himself'.

It won't change dramatically, but I think we might be heading down the path where we do have more time to create something more special together. Like one or two of the podcasts I listen to about couples who have created something quite sacred together, each new era in our lives is an opportunity for new creation. There is so much that is good about our union that I never give up on making the next body of time more special than the last one, no matter the obstacles.

The last thing I want is for our union to be akin to 'friends'. That is really taking a marriage straight to the bottom, at least for me. Well, that's one aspect. We are our best friends, for sure. I am his supporter, and he is mine. And we are very much in sync as parents and grandparents. 

Underlying everything is his masculine drive: to succeed, to protect, to set straight at times, and, more and more, to nurture. I do think he is beginning to see that I am a woman full of moving emotions, full of love, and he is starting to see what can be behind my upsets. 

For whatever reason, I am a little triggered when someone asks me where an item is. I think I try very hard to do the right thing by people and a missing item implies to me that I have misplaced the darn thing and inconvenienced them. I think that's the trigger.

I began to look for the thing. I just go into hyperdrive and it's far from the first time. He took me into a hug and said, 'It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You're a good girl.' 

Now, that's full marks for emotional intelligence, for meeting me in a low spot and bringing the vibration up.

I think this is a most dominant energy; to calm your girl; to be aware of what drives her and probably drives you both crazy. It's so much better than getting cross at her for not staying completely calm and undisturbed.

Women, women like me, want to feel safe in their bodies and being in a dominant energy, a dominant energy that says 'I've got you'; that's what we need.

I'll be entirely truthful here and say that I really would like something...firm. I'd like to feel his dominant presence with impact play such that he just pleased the hell out of himself. He's too tired to even think about it right now. This comes a close second.