The end of the first decade

It's been over 10 years since I began this online journal. Thinking back, I think I was just so happy to be living in an authentic way - expressing overtly what I had held in for so long - that it was pure delight to share the journey with any potential reader.

These days, it's rare that I suddenly am motivated to share my thoughts in this way, but I am still here; still happy to have the journal in an online forum for any like minded soul who happens to come across it.

Over a ten year span none of us is the same person. I am certainly not that giddy person I was at the outset ten years ago. Age tends to mellow most of us and once we get into our 60s there is a tendency for most of us to take the long term view. We know a few things by then. We've started to identify patterns in ourselves, in others, in our long term relationships, in the world at large. If inclined towards the positive, we are happy for each new day. We delight in a bunch of roses, a grand baby's smile, a good night sleep.

Personally, it's been a ten year journey more intense than I had bargained for, yet one that I had no alternative but to pursue. Good times led to confronting times. I started to see things, to feel things, and I had to understand.

I have done the most enormous amount of reading. Until several years ago, I was a keen literature buff, but now I can barely read a novel a month. I simply had to get to the bottom of behaviors and feelings and to work out what had become so confusing for me. I have a small library of psychology and spiritual books now, all very well read.

There were times along the way when I felt I may have no choice but to exit from the lives of a person, or two. I was changing, growing, learning. Their presence in my life, triggering in me intensely difficult feelings, seemed untenable.

But, I am a fighter, not a quitter, not to mention that these same folk, I loved. So, I went on, trying to understand them, what it was they were inducing in me; why the Universe had transpired to put us together; why the Universe had insisted I walk this incredibly painful path.

I would have made a bad Nun, but I am drawn to a contemplative life. There is no doubt about that. It began when I was very young and I got something out of being in a Church; something more than the rest of my life offered me. So it went all my life and yet the material world was what was there before me. Family life kept me busy and it was not until the children were grown up that I had a chance to explore my sense of the spiritual; something deeper.

In these ways, psychology and the spiritual merged for me. I learned about abuse - more emotional abuse than physical - and what that does to a child's mind. I learned how to be whole in myself, how to carve out boundaries, to self-love and to self-soothe. I learned to practice unconditional love at the same time as I held onto some private hopes that I'd see progress in others too. It's not an expectation but rather just a little bit of hope; a little bit of swaying on my part towards good outcomes.

The biggest change of all? The past is not important nor is tomorrow nearly as interesting to me as it once was. It's this moment that fascinates me; the breath, the sensations, the possibility that the thoughts that wander in and out of my mind will be intriguing to me but in no way weigh me down.

I am aware of unwanted thoughts - an angry or resentful thought, a sense of disappointment or frustration - at the same time I am observing having the thought. It passes. I rarely get stuck on the thought. The thought passes and I return to a sense of quiet contemplation.

When life it too busy for my sensibilities, and by that I mean too busy to effectively direct my attention as I like, I suffer. I once thought I'd like to have a writer's life but all those thoughts demanding the attention of going down onto the page would exhaust me.

Instead, I write, sort of, meditative scripts that I can share with others, though so far the best scripts are those that come up quite naturally; a written script perhaps but then put aside. I speak of space, of connectedness, of presence, the present moment, the senses, of letting go of identities and roles; of awareness, an open heart.

When living in the present moment, as I aspire to do, one notices most of the little flaws; the little impatiences and frustrations. One aspires to do and to be better without making it a big time ME project these days. We're not robots. We're not perfect. I don't beat myself up about what I notice but I do note it and hope I do better.

I've explored kinkiness and mental illness. Where an excessive need for control is found - either giving to or taking from - so too is often some level of mental illness. Coming to know that, I needed to explore my own damaged being and to heal.

Well now, completely at peace with my level of mental health - my level of self-love, my boundaries, my functioning and state of mind - kinkiness prevails. It is perfectly possible to have both. I am certain of this.

I love to experience my submissive soul - to be held down, to be spanked, to have to speak certain words of reverence; to be turned on by all of it. I still revel in it, whenever it comes my way.

In this way, I enter into the next ten years of this journal hopeful for a long life. I've got the living of this life, my life, by the throat now. I am happy and content; not without joy, not at all.

Thinking, not always the clever choice

We can't stop thinking. We can be fast asleep and the mind might be processing the day with some obtuse and weird dream. We might be in silence but the mind continues to wander all over the map. We might sit down crossed legged and determine to meditate only to find that the mind won't shut up in spite of our insistence that it should not provide a single thought. Geoffrey Rush in A Beautiful Mind told his imaginary friends to leave him alone but they refused to go. Could anything be more demanding than the mind!

A thought leads to a feeling and thus if we were to make notes all day of the goings on in our heads we'd discover that our mind is constantly having feelings too. We might feel relieved to be home, followed by sad at something we hear on the radio, followed by a sense of frustration when we don't get a call back, followed by a sense of pleasure when we bite into that apple. We might feel tired and then elated to note a parcel on the table, and then bewildered when we watch the news on television.

We might be angry with the comment made to us and then feel guilty that we allowed ourselves to anger. We might be annoyed that we know it is better to hold in a thought when we would so like to speak our minds. We may wish feelings away much as we wish away our unwanted thoughts. We may be unaware of nearly all these thoughts and feelings, so immersed in moving forwards through the day that they barely register, until we become mindful of our own mind. Such a busy mind!

Some people think more than others. Some people easily fall into the category of over-thinkers, those people closely related to over-achievers. I am probably guilty of both, in a way, when I am not castigating myself for not achieving more, that is.

Can you imagine therefore how delightful, how utterly delightful it is to give yourself up? Don't think, you're told. Bimbos don't think. An insult, a put down? Never. I, as a bimbo, luxuriate in the non-thinking state.  In that state, I can be "excited", "happy", "frightened", "confused". But, as much as it is humanly possible to do so I don't attach these feelings to thoughts. I mean, I know that a thought leads to a feeling and so I must have had a thought. But, it is not registered as such, that's all I can say about that. I'm in the hands of another being that I trust implicitly. I am open to the possibilities presented to me. I've given up my power and the decisions aren't mine to make. That's bliss for me.

So, the feeling is "I am happy" and although I am not aware of the thought, don't mindfully know its presence at all, I must have had a thought on some level. I think the thought is something along the lines of a sense of freedom and pleasure; time out. I'm aware I've been granted a time out and there is thankfulness, gratitude and pleasure, which leads to the expression of the thought, "I am happy", perhaps shared, perhaps not.

I have a friend who expresses her feelings which come from thoughts. She might say, about to enter into a difficult work project, "I am feeling a wee bit vulnerable" which comes from the thought, 'I am nervous about this project and working with particular people and having to perform professionally when I am just a vulnerable person myself, deep down.' I remember when she first started doing this with me and I didn't know what to do with it. Of course I listened, consoled, assured her it was a bit of nerves and she'd be absolutely fine, which she was. But, I don't do that. I don't run around saying, "I feel angry" or "I feel upset" or "I feel nervous" or "I feel incompetent". I just deal with that stuff myself. If I am making those kind of comments about my feelings I am in quite the state, and I hate to be in a state.

If you take the feeling of' 'incompetence' I am experiencing right now, well, I'm not incompetent at all, but the feeling arises from the thought that I am putting off today getting ready for tomorrow. It will get done quite shortly but I am aware I am procrastinating. There's the thought. 'I am procrastinating and that's stupid'. In fact, I've done a great deal of preparation and just need to tie up loose ends, but it's boring too, 'I am bored', and all that dumb thinking in my head has led to an uncomfortable feeling.

We all run around with a bunch of useless thoughts in our heads and wonder why we have an uncomfortable feeling in our body. I suppose it's not all useless. Would we get things done if the voice in our heads didn't whip us into shape?

Over the last several years meditation for me is a time to come home. Home is a place inside myself, the place where peace resides and thoughts are not invited or welcome. What interests me about 'home' is that in a state of as little thought as possible, the thoughts coming and going but not taking hold of the mind, there comes a feeling which is always wonderful. It's a feeling of love, of peace, of gratitude, of understanding; of compassion. It's a feeling of rich wonder at the business of being alive on this Earth in this moment. Non-thinking states create happy feelings, and there's my kink in a nutshell.

My friend once gave me the suggestion under hypnosis, which I think I have mentioned before, 'You have an irresistible desire to go to your cushion'. I absolutely do have an irresistible desire to go to my cushion. Nothing is going to change that now.

Submissive, Codependent or Caretaker?

I must have written a dozen times in the course of having this online journal that you can't change people.

'If I could be more compliant, more agreeable, more understanding,' some people say, 'things will be better then.'

They put the Other first and before you know it they have changed themselves, from a person of independent mind to one who subjugates his or her own self for some peace and harmony in the relationship and home. When chaos is the norm, it can start to appeal normal, such are the adaptions of the mind. Chaos is not normal.

Throw in a family to the mix and you have this selfless sort of person becoming a Caretaker, because, at the end of the day, somebody has to take on that job if one parent is behaving in a random and confusing fashion, right?

I have a strong suspicion that the words 'submissive, 'dominant', 'codependent',  'caretaker' and 'personality disordered' can get all jumbled up.

Consent, perhaps, is the ingredient that can clear up those categories. If you both enjoy your roles, if consent is clear and there has been no harassment to obtain consent, and if the arrangement aids you both in your growth and sense of peace...well then, there is nothing at all to worry about.

If you are still reading and wondering a bit about your true feelings, then maybe the categories above are a little murky for you.

It's impossible to go into too much detail in one blog post, so let's consider one small but vital point about a relationship where there is an unequal distribution of control. Care.

Submissives love to be cared for. I adore it myself. Interaction, attention, being given a challenge, feeling the control...that is all very kinky; a turn on; it's a really funfun game. But, why should I feel that someone needs to take care of me above and beyond that? What should lead me to think that?

Well, there's a certain sense of containment that just feels so delicious. I might see a photograph of a woman contained in some way - this morning it was a photograph of a woman learning to walk in ballet boots - and there is no dismissing the fact that I get a thrill out of that. So, if a man were similarly kinky and committed to that kink such that he innately desired what I desire, that would be a whole lot of healthy fun. What's done for deeper intimacy...how can that be unhealthy?

But, what if the submission is more than that; more than just fun and erotic pleasure? What if the submissive finds herself walking on eggshells, withholding her feelings and thoughts to avoid the dominant's displeasure or emotional outburst, or frosty silence?  What's that...a power exchange for the mutual pleasure of both participants, or something that looks more like a person being the caretaker of a personality disordered person, dependent on that person and awaiting his or her share of a sense of being cared for?

What if caring for someone isn't the desired sort of care - caring for each other with reciprocity - but caring for each other using the 'roles' of 'dominant' and 'submissive' which might actually be more like one person sacrificing their true self for the Other in order to have harmony?

I could speak to any number of behaviors that would identify the difference in these two outcomes but if you find yourself acting quite differently inside the relationship or family to the way you act with friends, associates and co-workers, it's not co-dependence (I once inaccurately labelled myself a Codependent), but it could be that in order to function within your relationship, you have become a Caretaker.

I think the first question for yourself would be - do I somehow feel that my true Self is being compromised in this relationship?

If you are happy, happy, happy in the submissive role, let's hope that it never ends. If you question the behaviors you experience, and your responses, it could very well be something else.

In my opinion the kinky/erotic role of 'submissive' in a sexual capacity is perfectly healthy. No need to deny yourself the pleasures of that. If you put the Other first repeatedly such that you having trouble identifying your own needs and wants; if you identify with some fear, obligation and guilt, then it may be you've unwittingly found your giving soul in dangerous waters.

There's not the time or space here to delve too far into that thought, but to end where I began it's far from easy to change someone else. With proper guidance, it is more than possible to change yourself. You may be submissive but you can swim.

The fitness of the thing

Kinky thoughts came to me completely naturally and unprovoked as a child. I'd see a scene in a movie, or read a few lines in a novel, or overhear someone say something and I was instantly aroused. No-one else was involved in this response. That is to say, I wasn't attempting to please a partner or to follow him along a particular path. My mind was aroused by the scene and that was that.

It is said that we fantasize within very specific parameters about our kinks. If it's a school disciplining scenario we might have in our mind's eye very particular details such as the type of dress or the type of instrument; perhaps a wooden stool in involved or there is a particular cupboard where the canes are stored.

It's fascinating and troubling at the same time that these scenes never really grow old. I happened upon a school disciplining scene in the past few days - one that would be grotesque in real life, utterly barbaric - and I slipped right down the kinky rabbit hole as if I were 15 all over again. My body will never stop being instantly aroused by particular scenes, done in a particular way. That is to say, the girls have to be helpless and at the mercy of the disciplinarians, and the disciplinarians have to be ruthless in the discharging of their duties.

The girls have to cry and howl and beg at the same time that they know they must do everything possible to hold their position. The masters and mistresses have to turn a blind eye and ear to the ministrations of their charges and go about their task in a professional manner.  There is a clear demarcation of who is in charge and who has zero power and everybody in the room knows their place.

To analyze it a tad, there's complete helplessness on the part of the girls and total power in terms of the rights of the masters and mistresses to uphold the  sanctity of their contract to educate the girls to particularly high standards. Let's be clear. If the girls had behaved well, none of this would have been necessary. Under normal circumstances those who watched over them would have kept a tight ship but not a particularly onerous one for the girls, for there is only one rule at this establishment really - to follow the rules and to do as told. Simple.

It's interesting (to me at least) that I have been prepared to follow through with this thought in other ways; ways I wouldn't have thought of as a child and which I didn't even necessarily know much about as a fully grown woman. I 'got' on some subliminal level that my kink was about 'place' and that meant that I moved quite effortlessly from having a spanking kink to a kink that related to whatever it was that I was presented with. The proviso was that I really did need to feel that the contract - obedience - was at the heart of 'it'. I really did need to feel an abiding affection was at the heart of everything too. This could make it complicated.

Nowadays there is no sense of a contract in my life. Put more bluntly, there is no contract. I'm a free agent in that sense. This means that I am not likely to experience the mind blowing highs of the past but nor, logically speaking, am I likely to experience the downs, and there were downs, for complicated reasons which not everyone has to go through.

There is, of course, always 'play'; the sort of play where a partner suggests a spanking. But, for reasons as explored above, unfortunately that doesn't do it for me. In essence, I like the idea of a contract; not the one with lists that you tick, but the sort of contract where roles are clearly designated, understood and embraced, not just for three minutes but innately. I guess what I am saying is that either it is authentic and I feel it down to my toes, or I'll see through the veneer and it will do nothing for me. Either it works for us both or I think it's best we do what we do rather well, just be ourselves.

I can almost hear you asking...but can you separate your kinky self from your self? I'm not sure I know, or ever knew the answer to that. It's sat in my being all my life; that girl who is so deeply aroused by certain situations not well understood by nearly anyone. An exchange of power with a partner such that this part of me that sits bubbling below can find expression was far more elevating and satisfying than I have ever been able to express in words. I remain forever grateful for those experiences. I'll cradle them in my old age.

But, there's a lot more to me and to my mind than kink, and somehow, maybe, just maybe, now might be the right time to fully explore if I can put it away in a box; not in some dusty box in the darkest and deepest recesses of my mind never to see light again, but far enough away that I can get on with life without pining for what I once had in the lusty May days of Camelot. There is a season for everything. I had my time and now there is a new time.

Looking out and then reaching in

If you want something enough, perhaps for someone to be different to the way they are, there is a little part of your mind that says something like (regardless of how much evolving that has taken place or how much awareness has been gained), 'why can't he or she gain some awareness too', or maybe 'Why can't he or she grow?'

I help out at an elementary school and last week I was working with some children who are progressing at a slower place than the rest of the class. I was trying to show them how to add on 10 to a number, but I found myself frustrated by their ability to distract themselves from the task. There was bickering about turn taking as well as considerable moving about, since we were asked to work on the floor. One girl insisted on trying to do the sums on her own only for me to discover she had all the sums wrong and therefore had not understood the concept. The boy who was very still and right beside me had difficulty locating the starting number let alone understanding the concept of locating the number right below it on the 10 x 10 grid. (59+10 = 69, and what do you know, 69 happens to fall right below 59 on the grid.) I found myself worried for them, for their futures.

It's been on my mind since; how to adapt the small group for it to function better. Honestly, we need a quiet space to ourselves (it's an open plan school which is nothing short of a nightmare for children with learning difficulties) and we need to be sitting in chairs with me on the other side of the table so that I can see what they are all doing. We don't need lap tops or opportunities to go 'splat' on a number using some animated blob on a white screen, or any other new age thing. We just need some big laminated number grids and some colored coins for now  so that we can get this concept honed down. Understanding numbers and getting excited about them, it seems to me, is motivation enough for these children without distracting bibs and bobs that tend to make them think that the bibs and bobs are the point. If I could praise them for a job well done, it would be wonderful, hopefully for them and for me.

Of course, my comments above are the classic trap for someone interacting with someone else. I am wanting them to be different to who they are right now, with the best of intentions, but with a lack of appreciation for the reality of the situation.

If you 'get' something, or if you want something badly, it's tough to be aware of the fact that the other does not get it, or perhaps that they are not willing to give it to you. It's tough to say 'oh well, you know, it's their particular journey that they are on, and maybe it's a rather slow and laborious journey and maybe they'll never make it to the finish line, but that has to be respected. They are in your life because you are learning lessons from them.' They may be good and worthwhile thoughts but that doesn't make it easy.

David liked to keep me grounded. He would say things to me like, 'How long can anyone contemplate their navel?' In other words, he was all for moving forward, for having expectations and for making changes. He didn't hurry me, or other girls; not at all. However, he didn't think I should get too lost in spiritual, or obsessive thought either. Life had taught him lessons and he saw no harm in other people learning their lessons too. He saw no issue with going after what I wanted, with recognition that people often don't co-operate with what we want. He had no issues with my high standards, having high standards himself, and he expected people to rise to be their best selves. If you didn't shine your shoes he wasn't going to look kindly down on you for that. Put it that way.

I get a great deal of comfort from the writings of people who have evolved to a higher consciousness. Greg Corwin, someone I follow on tumblr put up a document with a free download this morning and in it he has written this:

"To surrender is to relax fully, deeply. It is to empty yourself fully. It is to let yourself collapse into your self. It is to expose your rawness, to stand naked amongst the clothed. It is to leave yourself behind. It is a free fall into cradling arms. It is to die and be reborn over and over again until there is less and less of you left,until you are gone." 

As a meditator and a reader of spiritual leaders I relate to these words and they bring me much succor, but I also relate to them from a kinky point of view, for the simple reason that my spirituality and kinkiness find expression in similar and related ways. So, I try with all my might to express my understanding of these words in ways that are available to me, at the same time as I pine for those ways that are rarely available to me.


In spite of the fact that my desires and needs have been expressed many times, expression of my nature is rarely offered to me by the Other. This makes spiritual expression that I can do alone doubly important.

Greg made the point in his little free book that we should go beyond romantic love when we think of Love and think of Love as self generating.

"Go to Love's source in your chest and live in Love. Soften to Love's origin within you and return your wandering mind again and again to that warm, full place and let that Love radiate out and fill all."

Spiritual disciplines provide us with a guide for living a good life. Submissive personalities like myself who stride to be their best selves and to radiate love up there in their higher consciousness spend considerable time developing greater patience; deeper love within themselves for others; tolerance for the Other and others generally. We blame ourselves when things don't go right. If only we had wanted less; expected less.

The truth, however, and I think must be factored into the equation, is that we can emotionally walk over broken glass to make things right for fear that we  didn't do all that we could possibly do; that a saint would have done. It doesn't too often occur to the likes of us that the Other isn't necessarily putting in anywhere close to the same amount of effort; that perhaps we deserve more than we get.

We grow and evolve in life at our own personal rate. Perhaps it is rare that we grow together at the same pace. Perhaps, at the end of the day, we must accept that whilst everything external changes, it is our inner identity that remains the same regardless of the passing years; bliss, peace and silence is abundantly available to those who travel inwards to that core identity. I'm grateful, in the absence of being granted more kinky expression of my identity, to have the skills to return home.

The need for affection and love

Back in the day, when I was in my twenties, married women who were the age that I am now often struggled with the idea that they could make a life of their own. It's not that they couldn't entertain themselves perfectly well, or find meaningful ways to engage with the world and support good causes. Rather, what they would have loved was for their husbands to come along with them in the new chapter of their lives, post-family raising; perhaps to travel the world, or simply to enjoy life in their own neighbourhood, spending some quality time together having fun. It doesn't have to be grand. My brother and his wife travel about Australia in a caravan (trailer) and have a blast.

As Anna Murdoch discovered when she tried to insist Rupert change, some things are entirely impossible. He was never going to quietly shift into a semi-retirement era of his life. Lonely, she turned to study and writing (hmmm, ring any bells??) and then later they divorced. Still beautiful and full of life, she found another man.

There are other options, of course. I had conversations with a woman in her late 50s at that time, when I was in my 20s, and she told me what a struggle it had been to accept an invitation to a cocktail party on her own. Eventually tired of declining social invitations, since her husband was so often unable to attend, she took the bold step of seeing her life in another way and started attending these occasions on her own. She would have adored for her husband to attend with her, but she reached this point where she realized that he wasn't going to come her way and thus, she didn't leave him, but she did create a life of meaning for herself in other personal and commercial pursuits. She took the next best step.

There is no doubt about the fact that I am an old-fashioned gal who very much wanted a close marriage and to raise a loving family. A little introverted, not really a party gal, for many years I was relatively happy to put much of my energies into raising a family. I did very little under my own steam, often explaining that I couldn't do this or that because of some family or wifely duty or other. For example, the next door neighbour, when we lived in the States, invited me to walk with her after dinner, but I couldn't conceive of leaving the family each evening to do the dishes on their own. (Don't skip over the last sentence. This is what many women do - little sacrifices for the happiness and convenience of others. It can quickly get out of control, so if you do this, remember to respect your own needs. Learn from me, that's the secondary reason for this blog!)

But, something happens to a woman in her 50s,  at the time that her intense mothering duties come to an end. She wants to attach herself again to her husband, or I do, and to reach more deeply into the union; to have some fun and lightness in the marriage. Still, I recognize, like Anna, that my husband is unlikely to change his ways, not in the near future and maybe not at all. I'm just starting to realize that I may have to partake some activities and fun on my own. I've booked myself into a meditation retreat later in the year and that's a huge step for me.

There's the additional factor that I am kinky. I have been shown what heaven it is to melt into the bimbo, empty-headed sexual space, and I suffer when I am not led there, or supervised there on a regular basis. Ideally, that space is far more than a sexual space. It is also a spiritually enriching experience for me; an opportunity for me to feel at home in my own skin, accepted for all that I am. But, even if I can't be entirely accepted for all that I am - my husband would never have expressed himself in this way to me, if I hadn't confessed of my kinkiness to him - I experience great succor from the sexual/sensual experience itself.

We had words recently and it is in these moments that people might reveal themselves. 'Unless you get that BDSM stuff...' There it was; a put down of my kink. This hurts more than I can say and I pull away again from having my needs met. I am happy to say that he does fulfil my needs on occasion and enjoys doing so, but it is the curse of someone who has needs out of the mainstream when their partner who can live without it speaks like that.

I had written this post up to this point when I went to my weekly group meditation. At the 50 minute point, maybe the 55 or 56 minute point, something happened; a consolidation I am sure of the reading that I have done this past week.

'I love myself' I said in my head.

I allowed the statement to be thought several more times since I have never had that happen before in a meditation and nor do I run around thinking that thought at all. This was a new thing.

Now, I have used another strategy off and on for the past few years. When I am sorely lacking in love, or feeel that way in any case, I hold one hand in the other, or allow fingertips of one hand to touch the other, and I tell myself, 'You are your own best friend. I won't ever leave you.' But, I love myself, that's a completely new thought. I definitely want to work some more with that.

Once upon a time, a good and kind correspondent of mine asked me what would be enough; how much love would be enough? It's a good question, and maybe the fact that this 'I love myself'  thought is entirely new in my late 50s speaks to this notion: How much love is indeed enough?

A month or so ago one of my sons met a girl. He didn't really want a 'relationship' with her but she got under his skin and that's what they currently have. She's been around to the house many times and last night my son asked if I had some beef casserole and brown rice for her. 'Of course,' I said. He whispered, 'She is eating crap right now.' As I passed over the bowl of food she began to tear up. 'Is it the steam?' I asked. She shook her head and moved away. My son whispered, 'She's overwhelmed at the kindness.' 'Darling, you are very welcome here,' I said. My heart wept for her.

She's had an awful start in life, a most unpleasant family life and she's trying hard to make it on her own. My son got up at the crack of dawn to take her to work because she has an injured back at the moment and he didn't want her lifting the heavy crates of milk. Apparently, the boss couldn't care less. It was at that moment I realized that my son is a carer. He likes to take care of people and it was no surprise that she wanted him as a boyfriend, sorely in need of love and care as she is.

I have zero doubt that our early experiences shape our needs and that some of us are left needing more shows of affection and love than others. At the same time, some of us are left needing to care for others more. That feels entirely right to them.

There are theories that abound about the love addict (chronic craving for romantic love) and the love avoidant (I want to care for you but don't smother me). This is important research and should be taken seriously. However, I think there is the simple scenario of some people needing to feel affection in and on their bodies due to their childhoods, and those that are particularly good about understanding this and providing it. I think of a 'Latin Lover' when I say this, someone who comes up behind his spouse/partner regularly and squeezes her, telling her that she is beautiful. It doesn't take all that much to keep such a person happy.

Praise

I try to imagine what life would be like for me if my husband were the type of 'Owner' where he wanted complete control of me. In some ways, he has complete control, but in other ways he does not, because he doesn't desire control in those areas.

I think I'm the type of woman that probably would do best if my man did want more control of me. I'm not saying that it would be easy or immediate. I remember myelf as a woman in my twenties - that time when you can probably most mould a person to be what you want them to be, before they develop too many opinions of the world and themselves - having opinions and feeling that I had a right to an equal say.

I learned, particularly through my role at work as a Personal Assistant to a Managing Director, that there was a dynamic at hand and that I was the one to defer. The deferment didn't necessarily come entirely easily or even naturally. For example, at that time my intellect was shooting higher. Quite honestly, I was capable of doing more than I was doing and on a few occasions I requested transferal to a different job. On one occasion I suggested being transferred to the Training Division. I did, after all, have a qualification in teaching high school, so why not put that knowledge and skill into effect?

My boss simply couldn't understand my thinking. Why would I want to limit myself in this way when I could be a part of every last strategic decision made by the organisation? Naturally enough, I reminded him that I didn't make those decisions and had no effect on those decisions in any way. To the contrary, he insisted, he may not have acknowledged too many of my suggestions, but he had in fact listened and a number of those decisions had been taken up.

One day, when he was safely ensconced on an overseas holiday, Dan the advertising man came to me and asked if I would be in an advertising campaign. It sounded like fun and off we went to shoot the photographs. (I didn't advise the boss of this because I had a feeling he'd put the kabosh on the idea.) I was quite pumped about it until he arrived home and berated Dan about taking me out of his office. I took it very personally, though I never let on, and felt that he felt that I wasn't good enough. I came to realize over time that I wasn't going anywhere in that organization. He had the Personal Assistant he wanted; had trained her to suit his purposes and disposition, and he wasn't losing her to some training division or advertising studio.

If you've been reading for years, God help you, you'd know that he wanted control over me and that included my style of clothing, whether I bought something new or not (he wasn't into excess and if he caught me in stores around town at lunchtime when he was returning from a luncheon, he'd let me know about it), and my weight. When I joined his employ I was straight out of two years in the USA and I'd put on a little weight eating one or two too many hamburgers and fries, I suspect. He wasn't (completely) rude about it but he made it clear that the 10 pounds had to go, and they did. It wasn't so much a huge change in diet that did the trick. I was simply using up a lot of energy making sure he was satisfied and that I wasn't going to get another 'rounds of the kitchen'.

He also made it clear that I needed to eat more vegetables and to be sure that I did he'd often drop a box of vegetables from his garden in the country on my front door on a Sunday evening. He thought it senseless that women eat their way into a middle age spread and he loathed women eating in public on the streets. I can still feel the guilt in my throat when he spotted me one day in the street returning to the office at the end of the lunch hour eating an apple. 'But it was just an apple,' I argued. He was unconvinced.

I remember one day expressing my discontent about something in a way that wasn't entirely diplomatic. 'Don't you show your temper to me!' he stated. As a woman living through the stirrings of female liberation, he challenged me to the core. But, he did teach me many things: about men who insisted on control; about diplomacy; loyalty. It was the first stirrings and experiences getting to know my nature. If he was happy with my work, or my decision making on his behalf, or taking action to watch his back, he praised me and I cherished that. I bathed in the glow of his pride and perhaps it is this feeling that has stayed with me.

It may be interesting to know that I don't say much, nothing really, when I receive these warm feelings of having 'done good'. You'd have to look to my expression; the mellowness that is probably evident in my eyes that drop down that may suggest that I am a tad embarrassed, and the slight but unmistakable smile that widens my lips. On the page, you will need to trust me that I am most content.

A man who wanted total control of me would indeed need to train and condition me to his ways. It's only late in my life that I have wanted, myself, piercings or to wear latex. That is when I was introduced to those ideas. At first blush, I'd be most reluctant, I'm sure. But, I know in my heart that if he wanted that and made it clear that he wanted that, and it would strengthen the dynamic we shared, I'd follow along. I'm so very much into wanting a tight, strong, intense relationship that his desire for something in particular is all that would be needed. When I feel the energy coming forth, I meet that energy with abundant energy of my own. I respond to the dominance with a very natural and enjoyed submission.

In all the years that we've been together, my husband has very rarely not liked a piece of clothing I have bought, or at least he hasn't expressed that. But, one day he told me that he didn't like a pair of pants I had bought. They were pink vertical stripes. I thought they looked quite all right for weekends but he made it clear he didn't care for them. Out they went without a glace backwards.

I've an electric toothbrush. On occasion I forget to dry the base before I put it back on the base and he simply hates that, as he hates it when I don't dry my back completely, or when I make a big mess in the kitchen rather than clean up as I go. There are no consequences for these things other than 'getting it in the neck' as I like to put it, or in other words, getting told off. Maybe I'm not so much doing things the way he likes them to please him as I am doing it to avoid another telling off, but the point is, I do do it his way. Is that conditioning? Is it a natural drive to please? I wonder, if he praised me for a clean kitchen just before I served dinner once in a while, might that not be the biggest incentive of all to do things his way?

Truthfully, if I had an 'Owner' that wanted my nipples pierced, as an example, of course I'd oblige. The praise that this agreement would engender would be adequate compensation for overcoming my fear. Anyways, we'd be together. He'd lead me there so it wouldn't be that hard at all.

My husband wants, and will want going forward, to live in this big house. So, we live in this big house. We will live in this big house long after all the children have moved out. My husband wants us to do the garden ourselves, even the removal of huge tree trumps and so it is done this way, with me as the second gardener, of course. Just now I asked if I may use the ladder to do an outside task and he said 'no'. There are many tasks I'm not allowed to do because he wants control of them and isn't sure that they'll be done to his specification (which isn't at all true since I am perfectly capable of this task really). Still, I have to live with that.

Sure, I make suggestions and sometimes they are taken up. Often, they are not. We live according to his decisions. If he wanted me to live in latex for hours each week, needless to say, I'd be living in latex for hours every week. Why not, for heavens sake? It's become a dream of mine anyway, so why would I hesitate? If he bought it and demanded it, what a THRILL would that be!

Yes, at times it is hard buckling under to his version of the world, but kinky demands? And, I do mean demands. Insistence. These days? Well, I think that would be about as hard as eating New York baked cheesecake.

Just another animal

The demands of work can sometimes mean that there is little energy, focus and time for sexual desire and fulfilment. It's just a fact of life. Even then, I take refuge in my thoughts, and hands. A feeling of sexual need will come over me. As soon as I have privacy, I will go somewhere alone with my thoughts and be that entity/girl subject to the whims and control of those in charge of her. I release the sexual tension that had me bound tight. It is always a relief, a break, a pick-me-up, to imagine these scenes in my head where I simply do as told, no questions asked; just do it.

Last night, as my reward for a day spent getting through chores, I read Jack's latest story. I delighted in the young story girl realizing that the thought of doing what the story man said "instantly made some some sort of strange sense to her".  Loved the sentiment. Loved the alliteration. My minutes on Jack's tumblr also made me realize that he's a good friend of  theruleset . It delights me to know this, since I love Jack's stories and I love reading theruleset's words, and the photographs and videos he puts up.

I first came to know of theruleset when I saw a documentary about him. I'm not sure why exactly but I love to know that there are people out there living their lives so freely and abundantly - a cluster of good and intimate friends - but also living their lives intelligently and with due care. If you read his words, you will know what I mean. What he does, he does with careful thought. It reminds me of my old friend, Abel, in the U.K. who was so very kind to me when I visited and invited me to a gathering of his kinky friends, somewhat similar I imagine to Jack's and theruleset's little tribe of kinky mates that hang about Brooklyn.

It occurred to me that it would be quite lovely to have this in my own life in some way; not quite the same, since my husband doesn't want that, but to know at least one other couple who explores their kinky nature and with whom we could have dinner, or a glass of wine perhaps; share thoughts. If the thoughts led to some exploration...maybe the other husband likes to bind, or the other wife likes to be covered in latex like me...it would be exciting to share that desire and knowledge; those experiences. I'm yet to be convinced there are couples like that in my neck of the woods, but who knows!

This morning, there was something about the light, the fresh new Spring day, that had my thoughts turn to the bimbo side of me. I linked onto a site where I could luxuriate in watching women covered head to toe in latex and I could feel myself melt into that mindset. The house would be still for a few minutes more and I lay down very still like a statue and imagined the bliss of that covering; all wrapped up.

Sometimes, I reject the notion of 'use'; the dolly concept where I'm played with according to whim. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love that concept, but sometimes I do think to myself, 'You know what I want today? I want you to make love to me: woo me, entice me, make me feel oh sooooo good, and then fuck me blind until I am screaming my head off in pleasure' That sort of use! In other words, let's be clear about this, sometimes, the sort of use I want leads directly to my pleasure and that's my focus.

And there we have it, a busy woman, running around in circles right now making sure that all those in her life are well attended to, but the kink never dies. Claire Underwood is quite right. In the end, we are animals.

Identity

I was listening to some African-Australian people talking last night about their identity. One young woman made the comment, "You try to fit into a box or you're left out of the box." That's interesting. I wrote it down immediately.

Later in the conversation one person suggested that a person ask, "What is most important to you  in the construction of your identity?" In other words, other people may construct your identity for you based on where you came from, the colour of your skin, whether your hair is curly or "relaxed", but how do you, the individual, assess it?

The gentleman on the panel suggested that once people travel abroad there is the opportunity to become citizens of the world. A young woman from the UK recently arrived in Australia provided a reality check when she said that she couldn't find the supplies she needed, like hair, so readily available in London. Happily, other Nigerians in the audience suggested she come and speak with them as to where she needed to go.

After the session my son and I explored the topic in a Malaysian restaurant nearby. That feeling of being different is felt as soon as you start living somewhere other than your home. It wasn't always fun to be an Australian living in the United States. Where do you go for your Vegemite, for Tim Tams, for good lamb? Prior to the Internet how on earth did one get news from home? What did the locals mean that they didn't know (or care) about the Australian Football League and, no, we weren't Austrian but Australian. Nope, no kangaroos running down main streets, either. Sigh

It has to be said that as Australians we know next to nothing about Africa either. That we say Africa, rather than  Nigeria or Ethiopia doesn't help. I offered to my son that he knew more than most since he'd travel for work there several times. "Nah, not really."  A fellow student living in South Sudan noted one day that the history of South Sudan will never be written since no tribal group could ever agree with the other as to the events. The more one starts talking about identity the more complicated it gets.

If I look at my own sense of identity I know that growing up in a hotel had a profound effect on me. I didn't have a house that was a home, and I didn't have much 'family time'. My own home has been very important to me, especially so since I am a natural introvert and ponderer. Wherever I have lived I have looked to create a comfortable, nurturing home; an oasis in whatever landscape.

Having a husband, being a wife, and then a mother, that was always going to be vital to me; a sense of belonging. I feel a sense of relief when I am not putting myself first. I might be pondering my own little worry when a child presents a problem and I put my whole focus on that. It's a really uncomfortable sensation to feel that I've been selfish or even self-interested. I think I may see the introversion as a huge deficit, in fact; always trying to quell and master what remains a constant, like an African girl feeling that she must 'relax' her hair.

I'm kinky, for sure, though I don't fit into any box, at least no box that I have identified. Perhaps that leaves me with no box. Am I concerned about that? Not especially concerned. It would be lovely to have people to speak with just like me, but if it is not possible, then it is not possible. Life goes on.

I'm different to the norm. This thought didn't just come upon me. One lives with that, grows up with that feeling. Perhaps it is that sense of wanting to fit into a box, to achieve a sense of identity and belonging, that leads people to chat forums like FetLife and others. Feeling different isn't comfortable, even for me. We all want to fit in somewhere.

Yet, that introversion has a very strong hold on my sensibilities. On most days, I wear my difference not with a crown of thorns but in a state of grace. The kinkiness, which I hold close to my heart, is an ever present companion. When I am closest to that truth, that my kink is all pervasive, deeply embedded, I feel most at peace.  It remains also true however that my true and complete identity will be shown to only the chosen few. This was written in the stars long ago and is an assailable truth. 

Regimen

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.

Kinks

A week ago I delivered an ultimatum to my husband - either he pursue some further assistance for himself and make efforts to explore his condition psychologically, rather than just from a bodily perspective, or else we'd have to think about whether our paths might need to diverse in the future. I asked him, quite simply, to do it for me. Even if he didn't believe there was a single benefit to be had by exploring his mind for answers, I wanted him to do it for me.

He responded to that and at this stage he has agreed to pursue it immediately. That is to say, we've had conversations in the past where he agreed to do this but he did not follow through. In other words, it was a hollow promise. So, this time I made the appointment and gave him the necessary information.

What we are dealing with is his overall malaise but also we are dealing with the fact that I have a kink and he does not. After so long, once the Pandora's box was opened it was never going to satisfactorily close, and my kink remains. I don't anticipate that it will ever go away. I crave to be lovingly dominated. I crave for my whole self to be present in my life, day by day.

Life without sex as I'd like it to be is hard. Life with very little sexual activity at all, as if we are living together as very good friends, borders on insufferable for me. I know that millions of couples end up this way somewhat satisfactorily, but it is something I am finding too hard to bear.

I've been to my doctor to talk about this situation and he's referred me back to my psychologist whom I will see tomorrow. I plan to be much more direct with her about who I am and what I need in my life. I will not leave my school aged son prematurely but I cannot and will not live a life that demands that I quash my kink on all but the oddest occasions.

I did not ask for this kink and nor can I do much about it. As it has been denied expression it simply grows in hunger and a demand to be expressed. There is no answer in denying its existence, either via my efforts to assure myself I will be all right (I won't), nor by my husband's going about our lives as if it did not exist and as if he has no part to play.

Further (and more truthful and explicit) therapy hopefully will hold the key as to where we go from here, but the simply truths are that:

1) I have a kink/fetish that requires a loving dominant in my life.
2) It doesn't go away by willing it to do so.
3) Either my partner in life is willing to accommodate my kink in his life or he is not.
4) I must make decisions about the rest of my life based on the above criteria.

Balancing the needs of kink

Kink doesn't lose any traction over time. It only gets stronger and more demanding.`These desires can overwhelm the mind, take up more and more time until there can come a moment when one registers that perhaps one is out of balance; perhaps one should try hard to think about something else.

When in the midst of one's kink, either satiated, or with a lustful appetite for more expression of the kink, there's a sense that one probably should leave the table for one's own health. Yet, there is more meat on the bone, more trifle, Camembert cheese; more chocolates in the box. And, these banquets don't happen every day. Why not a little more?

It can happen to one person or both; that moment when one simply has to stop ingesting; simply has to stop partaking of the delicious treats. That's not a bad thing. It's an acknowledgement to oneself to go a little slower perhaps; to acknowledge that we can be in the grip at times of our own lust.

I don't advocate and am too far into these processes to ever again STOP what I know does me a heap of good. Kink, for me, doesn't work like that. My needs are my needs and they don't go away for very good reasons. It's not some game for me but rather a real need for my body to experience what it does on a daily basis. It's a treatment of sorts and if you take away the treatments I go down hill very fast.

However, it's no bad thing to redistribute daily life every so often. It's been cold and dull here for far too long but the sun has begun to make an appearance late in the day these evenings and it prompts me to get out and about more; to spread my creativity across various pursuits as a form of personal expression; to interact with creative sorts on various non digital platforms and to enjoy my life in every way.

I don't mean that I should suddenly make a bunch of decisions to counteract my desire to make no decisions at all. That would not work. I need my 'bimbo' time. I adore it too much. What I mean is that the longing for the bimbo state can have me going too slow; leave me in a rather catatonic state where the longing for it becomes too much. The longing can hurt me and be counter-productive and if there's no real solution presenting itself in my life right now as to consistency of that experience, then there comes a time when I need to turn the longing off, for my own sake.

The kink won't, and need not go away. It's here to stay. I have no power to alter this nor do I wish to do so. Yet, there is so much of life to explore and it's time I did just a little more of that. It's all about balance - simply redistributing the thoughts patterns so that they are more in line with what works ideally. The formula for that is within the mind of each kinkster, according to the limitations and precinct of one's life as led with other people. Following one's intuition is really the only way to reconstruct balance.