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.

Helplessness

Sub-consciously many of us are working on some sort of negative feeling (e.g. sense of abandonment) from our past, perhaps attached to it, playing it out over and over until we reach some sort of consciousness of what is happening; perhaps finding some sort of resolution of that feeling.

If you consider my fantasy life, there isn't much doubt about the fact that it is associated with a feeling of helplessness. The fantasy this morning was a very typical scenario for me. Disobedience had ensued and when the matter was brought to my "owner's" attention, he made the necessary arrangements for my correction.

Although he had to rush off to a meeting (in my fantasies my "owner" is practically always a busy man who avails himself of a woman in the house to instigate some discipline for me on his behalf), the housekeeper was given instructions to see that I was paddled very soundly, such that sitting would be uncomfortable for the rest of the week. Then, I was to sit on my meditation cushion facing a wall, so as not to be distracted. I was to sit my beaten backside directly on the cushion and to think about my behavior, until my owner returned when we would discuss the matter.

To put it another way, I am at the mercy of other people in my fantasy life and subject to their rules and regulations. I am contained quite tightly and many situations taken for granted by most people are privileges to me. I am acutely aware that I am owned, that I am no more or less than property, and that whenever it should be deemed appropriate, required or enjoyed, I am corporeally disciplined.

It usually goes much further than a good thrashing. Certainly, intense anal training is part of my fantasy life and so too is intense use of my body; my holes. It is not at all uncommon for me to be restrained in ways where my holes are made available for prolonged use, sometimes by more (many more?) men than just my owner (as per his requirements of me). It's a challenging life I lead in my fantasies and the more challenge I face, the more I get off. Used and degraded intensely in a fantasy rolling through my head, my body may be covered in a coat of sweat, because the sort of smut that enters my mind, turns on my body in a very profound and deeply arousing way.

Some psychologists may say that a person like me is locked in a cycle of helplessness; that I am "attached" to that feeling, and that although I don't want to feel helpless in real life, in my mind I am playing the feeling out over and over again, until I can find a way to overcome that feeling of helplessness and move on with my life.

I am aware of this possible situation and I don't reject it. For several years now, via this online journal and other strategies, I have tried to bring my subconscious mind into my conscious awareness. I realize that I have, at times, felt very helpless and subject to the vagaries of life's winds blowing me about and rendering me helpless.

The awareness has been a great help to me. Conscious now of the helplessness cycle I'm also conscious of the ways that this feeling has held me back in life. This is tremendously helpful because it is opening doors in my mind to new possibilities. I am beginning to feel much more a creator of my own life and future rather than subject to the decisions of other people and 'destiny'. I feel more in control of my own life and the power of my own mind. I feel much more hopeful and much less helpless.

However, the fantasy life continues. Awareness has done absolutely nothing to alter the extreme arousal I experience when I fantasize or experience this helplessness in a scene played out in the bedroom. The more contained I am, the more helpless I feel and the more the other person is in control, the more intense my arousal.

I remain unconvinced that if I were to make wads of money or become an overnight creative success, and/or to have absolutely no reason to feel helpless in any way in my real life, that I would cease to have these fantasies. These fantasies have now been with me for over 50 years. My arousal from them continues to grow. My desire to feel helpless in such scenarios is very real. When they are acted out I feel a sense of relief; satisfaction; elevation of spirit and intense happiness.

It is interesting to me that although I feel less and less helpless in real life that my inner life still holds onto and covets feelings of helplessness. These men (and women by extension) are sometimes owners who have my best interests at heart (sort of) but they are often mean and nasty Headmaster types who see it as their role to train young women to obey men; to train them to understand their place and purpose; to service men. It is not all beer and skittles. It is not all well intentioned at all.

There is my real life and my conscious understanding that it is my right and my responsibility to be all that I can be in this life at the same time as my fantasy life makes all such thoughts void. My goodness, in my fantasy life I'm there to serve; to obey; to do exactly as told and only that. How profound it is (and how confusing at times) that I'm never more happy than in those minutes, hours and days after a good hiding; extensive use of my body; containment of my mind; reminder of my 'true purpose'. I never said it wasn't complicated!