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.

Betrayal

It has been by way of my attraction to power exchange relationships that I came to eventually see that I am a 'Giver' who was therefore naturally inclined to a 'Taker'. But, it goes well beyond that scope.

I can see the dynamic present in my family of origin, where I allowed the situation to endure well beyond being a child whereby I gave of myself, making sure they were fine at every turn. The emphasis in my mind was my responsibility to them and not the other way round.

I only have one sibling and this applies to him also, perhaps particularly to him. In my 62 years on this Earth I only asked, for the first time a couple of weeks ago, for some consideration to be given to me on a very important matter. This put the cat amongst the pigeons in ways I could never have imagined.

They wanted to know if something had happened. They didn't use these words, but the subtext was, "You've never asked let alone demanded anything ever before. You've always given in for the greater good, done our bidding; never asked for equality. What's changed? What could you be thinking? You know that's not how this game is played."

It got, from my point of view, quite ugly; insufferably so. I had a point and I wasn't so inclined to let go of such an important point after one most unpleasant meeting, so I asked to speak to my brother alone a week later. By now, I was armed for his dirty tricks but mind blown nonetheless to see how easily he moved from one argument to the other according to my responses. Was he prepared to lie? Endlessly. Countless lies and underhand manoeuvres and manipulations; anything to have his way.

If you are a meditator you might know that the mind tends to open up after a while; that instinct becomes quite precise and tuned. I wondered, is there any chance I was adopted? Had I seen a photo of myself as a baby? Not one photo. There is a photo of me at around 1 year old but I had never seen a photo earlier than that? Is it possible that in the mid-1950s cameras were still not readily owned? My mind considered all sorts of scenarios because there had to be some other explanation than that I had been such a perfect Caretaker that I didn't consciously compute the dynamic for six decades.

In the exterior world, outside family, people can be hell bent to have their way, but you expect that. We have few expectations of relationships that are loose and distant. We don't expect the lawyer of an adversary to play fair, or I don't. There's no loyalty there, no respect; no fondness. So, we are ready for foul play; for ugliness; for greed and hostility.

Not that I play in that arena for a second longer than I have to. I hang out with sweet minded people as often as possible. I am not the least suited to hostility and conflict.

Even so, after all the writing on this blog and elsewhere, all this consideration of my nature and the pitfalls of that nature, and how to protect myself and so on, I never expected so called 'loved ones' to turn, bite and scratch.

I have had some time to digest it all; to consider my position. There isn't a chance, and I mean not the slightest possibility that I can see them as I once did. I chose to ignore all the disappointments of the relationships to that point because what are you going to do? You don't get to choose family and I certainly didn't choose them; didn't get much succor from the relationships but just flowed along without rocking the boat as steadily as I could. But, any feelings of fondness are no longer there. This is just the way it is inside me and there is nothing I can do about it.

In fact, there's a sort of little group text set up between the traitors and myself only in terms of my mother's care. My statements there are all factual, and only made when I think they might be helpful to her. That's the extent of it and so it will always be unless and until I have to make a factual statement relating to finances, which someday I shall. If they really misbehave I shall have to make statements via a lawyer, but let's see how it goes.

For a while there, I was shattered. Now, I am okay with it, so long as I don't have to lay eyes on them. It's all so difficult because I can't be guaranteed that I won't see them when I visit my mother and if I were to do so I'd be physically ill. I am trying to figure out how to sort this because I'd happily have my mother believe that all is well. Her mental faculties are failing her and the best outcome is for her to prattle on about them and for me to say, 'Yes, yes' as I do, her thinking all is well.

The good news is that I have been studying dharma wisdom for some time now and one of my favorite pieces of advice is to accept 'what is'. What happened is not what I would have wanted but it is what happened. I have no argument with the fact it happened this way. Would it have been wonderful to have a family of origin that was close and caring? It goes without saying that would have been lovely, but I no longer concern myself with the fact that this wasn't my lot any more than that it's somebody else's lot to lose something that means a great deal to them: a career, a spouse, a home.

There's no 'why me?' in this story. There is no pre-written plan for any of us. It just is as it is. It's about learning to let go; let go of all that is not serving you; to recognize when the time comes to say 'I did my best.' It is time to move on now without looking back.

Feeling Free

To feel free is to completely let go of anything and everything that holds you down. There are many definitions: to liberate, no longer confined or imprisoned; to let go.

Most likely, your personal definition or description of feeling free is quite different to mine. A person in China restricted from offering his personal opinions freely would have a sense of liberty if the situation altered and he was able to express himself freely without fear of punishment.

The child who feels constrained to become someone that their parents wish him or her to be would feel a sense of freedom if the parents were to assure the child that it was their wish simply for the child to be happy.

A man or woman who holds their opinions tight to their chest for fear of an upsetting argument would feel freed if the partner were to assure that they would remain calm and discuss the situation openly and rationally regardless of opposing views.

There is a beautiful sense of freedom away from home with no possessions but a few changes of clothes in a suitcase.

There is the freedom of the meditation cushion when the stillness of the still mind (they mean the natural/free mind which has nothing to do with thought) is reached.
 
 It's subject to interpretation as to whether freedom is achieved with no thoughts but plenty of feelings. There is a tendency for us to want to be free of what is sometimes referred to as the negative feelings - anger, sadness, hatred, jealousy. Yet, it's so interesting what happens when we quietly sit and allow those feelings full rein. It's hard to hold onto negative feelings for more than a couple of minutes. The physiological responses are so intense that after a few minutes of quietly sitting with them, they quite naturally begin to subside, to reduce and to  dissolve. There's a freedom right there.

There are people who seem emotion less and people who are too emotional and in both cases to sit quietly with oneself and check in - how I am doing? how am I feeling? - is liberating for the busy self. It's having an awareness of your state that can free you from being in an automated state, as if unattached from your self, or unhinged. We sit with 'our whole body' on the meditation cushion. We have arrived. There is no where we need to be and no-one else whose needs come before our own. It's a liberating thought.

For several years it was possible with very little effort to take me to a bimbo state of mind. A translation of that state would be sexually liberated, or the object state of mind/no mind. This happens less now than it used to and the question for myself is if I am in some way to blame for the situation. Am I less inclined to 'let go', something that was so natural, so easy for me not so long ago?

Philosophies and spiritual teachings tell us that there are no mistakes (which I find hard to accept but let's go with it for now). That is, we are not dust in the wind. We are the wind. We are not part of life. Life lives through us. If that's the case, I haven't made a 'mistake', it's just that 'letting go' into the bimbo part of me is not often available to me at this juncture in my life.

On my meditation cushion the experience is with myself. I am in relationship with my self. The experience of being free is available to me at any time when I choose to let go and enter the stillness of the still mind.

In my dreams or daydreams, my fantasy life, bimbo is readily accessible to me. She simply never goes away for the very reason that she is respite from the worried, harried mind. I can, if I wish or must, enter a state where liberties are few and expectations are sordid, and this frees my mind; relaxes me and subdues anxiety. I would never banish her for the very reason that she is so necessary to me.

Needless to say I thrive, not just survive, when bimbo in all her vivid colour splashes onto the canvass. This state is not available to me without the aid of the artist who wishes to paint a particular image; who with instinctive and particular knowledge can apply the brush strokes with just the right flow and smoothness to create the texture most satisfying.

It happens effortlessly when the artist is in sync with the canvass, knows what he wants and feels into his heart how the brush will work with him and for him to create something of beauty and liberating force. Each painting created in this way will have its own essential life force. Like love, it happens when both elements in play reach into something innate; something derived from nature. Only then can they both be liberated.

A joyous New Year

On the morning of the last day of the year, I'm reflecting a little on this year about to end. It was a relatively quiet year for me with few major highlights. My personal highlight was my time at the retreat in New Zealand. I am so happy I took that risk and flew my wings.

On a relationship level, my mind immediately flew back to a morning in the country, mid-winter. My husband and I had rented a darling little cottage. He asked me what toys I had brought along and I told him of a ripple-y butt plug. He asked me to produce it and he had me lay on my side as he put it into position.

He told me later that the transformation had been immediate; something that he would not have believed possible if he had not seen it with his own eyes. One minute I was a girl and the next I was a toy; soft, compliant, suggestible; hungry.

There is little point in dismissing the life blood of this toy inside the girl. She's hardly a fabrication of my imagination when she rises up and is visible to others.

When this toy gets an opportunity to be fully alive, it's a wonderful time for those in her company as well. There's something about her presence that makes me, and my husband, abundantly filled with joy. I'm younger, more carefree, and what's exciting is that those benefits don't last for a minute or an hour, or two, but for days and days. Here I am writing about a morning in early June, six months ago now, feeling all the delight again of remembering the time of "simply letting go".

I listen to a CD regularly where the man talks about this: "simply letting go". "More and more" he will say in a voice that lulls one further into the trance-like state. "Deeper and deeper", he will say, and a little smile is formed because I wait for that phrase, softening a little more each time he says it throughout the meditation.

The toy (aka bimbo or cindi) and a spiritual state became blended in my mind quite some time ago. I give in to both experiences and I benefit from both experiences. In the main, I need some guidance to get to both states, but I can go solo, if necessary. I can meditate alone and that's good; beneficial, always. But the meditation in a group has a quality that I can't find in meditating alone. So it is with the toy. I can take measures to sink into the toy state; a more, mellow mind. However, it is only with the guidance of a 'top' that bimbo can really come alive. She needs someone to guide her, to play with her; to provide her with experiences that she can't provide herself.

I have a number of goals for the coming year, but none is really more important than seeing to it that the toy has more time to call it's own. She's sweet. She's giving. She's loving. Okay, she's slutty. But, her joy is infectious. More joy. That seems a perfectly acceptable new year resolution, I think.

Wishing you a joyous New Year.