Navigating our inner worlds

A  Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara came to my attention this week. In an effort to make a decision as to whether to purchase a copy of the novel I am reading reviews by people who have read it. Goodreads is a great site for this sort of thing. One reader listed the many things he liked about the novel and the things he didn't like about the novel. On the negative side, he mentioned that he found something narcissistic about a story that only detailed the landmarks of the characters' lives and not the landmarks of the historical time period. As an example, the characters were living through the 2001 time period and yet there is no mention of the economic downturn or of 9/11.

Obviously I can't yet have an opinion as to whether not including a more external world for the characters to inhabit was a good idea or not, but I am wondering about this strategy in a more general sense. For example, I rarely mention the world at large in this web journal, perhaps thinking it more appropriate not to do so. I doubt anybody cares about my opinion of the American Presidential election, for example, even though I follow the events quite closely and was thrilled for Hillary Clinton to finally have the Democratic Party nomination. She is more than qualified for the job. She is level headed with an overwhelming desire to do good. And, as I see it, there's no viable choice. But, that's an aside. The world I present here is my internal world, by and large unconcerned with the material world just outside my door.

As I think back to Nora Webster, Colm Toibin directs his focus to Nora's inner world, and the world of her family; her private life. She goes to work and we learn of the office politics, giving us a greater understanding of the substance of Nora, but by and large, that's about as far as it goes. Certainly, we learn of the slow explosion of Ireland through what Nora sees on the television. We understand that just beyond the borders of Enniscorthy there lies an unreliable and conflicting world, but it's backdrop to the story. Our concern is Nora; what she thinks, who she is, and the decisions she makes.

I wonder if it holds any importance for a reader here to know my physical world; perhaps my choice of clothing or the kind of furniture in my house. Co-incidentally, I happened to read a short piece of writing this morning that suggested that we should be aware of the energy in used objects before we buy them, and this resonated since I often have a reaction to an pre-owned object that compells me not to buy it.

I am at this moment sitting at a dining table that we bought from a newly divorced woman in Connecticut who was moving to New York City, thirty-five years now. She told us that her family had sat around it for many happy and momentous occasions and she asked us to take good care of it. It's always had a good vibe and we've never considered replacing it. But, it's rare for me to feel this way about pre-owned objects. Somehow, on a visceral level, I understand this idea of 'energy' that surrounds objects, and people.

If objects give off energy then surely so do people, houses, neighbourhoods, news reports, the weather, the events that surround us as we go about our day. It would be a difficult thing to write about me, or perhaps anyone, without an understanding of how fast my mind thinks, and changes, moment by moment according to my environment. I might look out onto the garden and feel a glow of satisfaction that my lilly pilly hedge has finally begun to mature into a lovely shape but a minute later in walking into the boys' bathroom I may despair that they will ever be aware enough of their own surroundings to want to keep them tidy.

In terms of world events, it can be problematic to ascertain if we come to know more of a person in terms of how they relate to their world at large. I may hear of a sad event on the radio but not allow it to disrupt my day or bring me down. Whilst one interpretation is that that sounds heartless, some people can't afford to take into their soul sad news because to live so close to their skin is too painful. I suspect this is what is happening to my daughter. So much like me, she worries about the children with whom she works. On an intellectual level she knows she can't protect the children once they go home, but she would if she could, and that makes her job hard.

(Note: A day after writing this post a family member found it a part of his job to attend the aftermath of a 20 year old man who had taken his life by jumping in front of a train. I'm 'wearing' this tragedy today. It's hard to take it off and put it away, but with virtually no control or input into the lives of others unknown, we are forced to do this every day of our lives and to content ourselves with making any small impact that we can for the benefit of others.)

I remember the time of 9/11. I remember the following Saturday and talking to parents on the sideline of a childrens' soccor match and that sense of gloom that hung over the world as we talked of an event so far away, and yet we had all been in the building. 'There but for the grace of God go I', we all thought privately, I am sure. There's a natural response to keep your loved ones particularly close at such times.

At about the same time, one of my sons was attacked but the other perpetrators called the man off, thank God. Soon thereafter, someone tried to steal his backpack in the city and by then he'd had enough. He punched the man in the nose and that made him drop the backpack and run off empty handed. Now, these events did have a bearing on his state of mind and how he responds to the world. It's hard for anyone, I think, to relate to events in a meaningful way or for the events to significantly and permanently alter him or her, unless there is some sort of personal experience with those world events. We can feel real empathy and compassion for others going through traumatic experiences but it's hard to crawl inside their skin and their minds unless we've had something akin to that experience ourselves. I think it is why we read, to crawl inside other peoples' skins.

Whilst setting is a fundamental element of story, character development is what matters most in terms of a reading experience, I think. I am quintessentially Australian and that's part of my story, but how important is that to the reader when reading my words in a web journal? I suspect that the reader is more interested in the disgorgement of my mind, wherever it is placed in the world. Maybe I am blonde or brunette, skinny or wide hipped. I don't need to tell you since your imagination will fill in the gaps. You'll put me in a house of your own choosing and surround me with beautiful or garrish objects. This keeps the focus on the words and your engagement and agreement, or not, with the words.

I know that some readers want to be taken to a detailed visual world. It is something that I work on in my novel writing feeling that it has been a weakness, but still there is an instinctual part of me that feels that the intelligent reader does want to use their imagination; to relate on a personal level to the material, or perhaps simply to have a connection to the feelings expressed. It was a mistake, I think, for Hillary to wear that US$12,000 jacket because it takes the focus off her message and onto her personal choices. It says something about her, we figure; something that we'd prefer not to know. It feels like, well, it feels like a poor choice, and we don't want her having poor choices, not given the role she will play in the world. Still, if that's the worst of the choices, there is no harm done. It makes no sense to expect perfect people.

Each of us is made up of a gamut of choices; to be humble, aggressive, assertive, greedy, determined, caring; to impusively make choices for today or to take the long term view. Mistakes are inevitable. We never stop learning, if we choose to learn.  Some people have no interest in personal growth. It is a fact of life.

There is so much writing advice out there but at the end of the day, if you are going to write stories for the enrichment of other people, you just have to tell your story, exposing the complexity of being human in whatever setting your characters happen to live.

Writing to write

Recently, I was offered the thought that I wrote to impress: to impress the reader. The opinion I was given was that I didn't write to write, to express myself, or to figure things out, but rather so that people would say that I was a good writer. It was felt that I was still ego laden.

These words have had an amazing effect on me. Frankly, I am troubled by them every day. I have conjured all sorts of ideas to resolve this: from writing only on my private blog, to opening a new public blog to writing differently here on Vesta.

On top of that, this particular period of time is very difficult for me as I begin to express all of myself verbally; something I am not at all comfortable with or have done before. When I told my doctor that I wanted to see a psychologist and why, I was aware that my voice had changed; that these revelations were in fact, an out of body experience. Somebody else was saying all this; surely it couldn't be contained, happy, in control, can cope with anything Vesta!

In the past few days, my inner turmoil has not just seeped out, but emotions have gushed in much the same way my country experienced an inland tsunami: in an abrupt, wild and threatening manner.

Whilst the waters are receding now and I'm returning to normal too, it occurred to me this morning that perhaps now is a good time to try to write in a way that is more true. This will not impress the reader. This is quite simply the free flowing and open thoughts of a submissive woman run off the rails but desperately trying to find her way back to a lifestyle that means everything to her. This is Vesta as you haven't seen her before.

---------------------------------------

10/02/11

It came up a few weeks ago with M (for Mentor). I said, or rather cindi said, that she didn’t think that containing her emotions was a good idea and he replied that bimbos (non thinking fuck toys like cindi) didn’t need to contain themselves. Rather, they needed to be contained.

I deduced from that comment that it was all right to express my emotions, although I remain unconvinced of this fact. I think that the men I know want what they want and that includes a self contained, self evolved woman (or fucktoy, as the case may be).

O (for owner) is often completely absorbed in his own thoughts and projects, preferring to work into the dead of the night. It would suit him if I were happy, self-contained and able to always bounce back fast when he speaks to me in a way that I perceive as rude and uncaring (but which he forgets about the moment the words have passed his lips).

He wishes me no harm but at the same time is hopeful that I can take care of myself in stretches of time when he wishes to hyperfocus on his projects. That I give the impression that I am coping is what he takes to be true. He’s not inclined to delve further than that and I’m not inclined to express the distress that lays below the surface at those times when it is clear he wishes to be left alone to think or work.

In much the same way, M wants to interact with cindi. In fact, it is the only form of interaction available. Cindi, being a fucktoy doesn’t think and she doesn’t worry. She is playful, joyful; happy and obedient. She is contained and as I see it, her emotions must be contained, too. Hence, she can’t communicate if she is experiencing negative emotions for any reason. She simply doesn’t come on.

All hell broke loose yesterday. The dam burst and my emotions, long contained were released. I said a lot of things. I was very blunt. I need attention regularly, not sporadically. I want more sex. Stuff like that. But, the biggest thing I said was that I had put a lot of work into myself and he had put next to none into himself. It was time to stop referring to my behaviour and to look at his behaviour if we were to get this thing right.

“I want to have fun. I want joy in my life. I don’t want to just cope. I want to live my life. If you can’t do that, tell me now.” I remember saying that. I didn’t exactly mince words.

I had come to the end of my rope and he knew it. I needed him to hear me and I needed things to change. To his great credit, he let me rant and he comforted me the best way you can comfort a woman that has lost the plot.

I have taken and taken and taken until I can’t take any more. I need real change. I need him to look at life in a new way. Somewhere in there I think I said that I wanted to go live alone. The pain of living with a man who couldn’t embrace me for who I am was so burdensome; it seemed an agonizingly slow death. Better to just cut my own throat, was the thinking going on in my head, as best I understand it myself.

Seeing more clearly than I, he said that it was more of him that I was really asking for – not to go away - and that’s right. I need him to sort his affairs, and be prepared to enjoy the rest of his life as I want to enjoy the rest of my life.

Am I anxiety laden? Of course I am. I have been in the pressure cooker for far too long and I am making one huge leap up and out of there.

I want to live with my heart and soul filled with joy and peace and contentment. I want to live according to my nature. I want lots of lovely sex. I want what I want too.

Contain me to your heart’s content. Great! Remind me of my place. Fantastic. I’ll play and play and play. I adore to play. But contain my emotions at your peril for I am an emotional soul. I do experience all the emotions and I need to express them. It can’t always go the top’s way. I serve willingly and enthusiastically but I am a complete human being and I ask for care. Care for me, all of me (even the parts you don't necessarily want or like) and yea shall receive in abundance. That’s a promise.

Do I have to?

A chat friend offered me a kindly piece of advice recently. He said that I should "stop worrying". No one was expecting me to be perfect. So, I should be as good as I can, and let my husband deal with the times when I was not.

This gets right to the heart of the matter. Like it or not, I do tend to have a bit of a perfectionist's mind. I can live with the (odd) spelling mistake or having the children mess up the kitchen (again), but I do have high expectations of myself, it is true. I once worked for the most meticulous of men; a man who wanted everything from the arrangement of the flowers in his vase to the quality of the material produced in his office to be without flaw. Even he told me that I had to stop beating myself up over tiny little things. Nobody was perfect, he said. It is a personality trait that has been with me for a long time.

Given this fact, I often wonder why it should not be the case that I am able to follow through on all instructions, to the letter. If I like to cross my t's and dot my i's, then strictly speaking, I would be totally committed to following through on any instructions I receive as a submissive. The truth is that I fail at this. I slip up, not routinely, but enough for it to be noticeable. I don't know, but I suspect, that I slip up more than a girl without this quality to be hard on herself and to aim for perfection. And, I ask myself, why don't I just do what I am supposed to do?

We've all done a bit of 'psychology' at school or beyond and we all know a bit about 'motivation'; intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. But, I don't want to get technical here. I want to talk from my head and heart, and I hope you comment likewise.

If I made a list of all the things I have to do in a day, it would be a long list. Most of the items on that list are things I don't really want to do, but have to do. So, why do I do them? Well, mostly because, they have to be done. If they aren't done, life gets completely out of control. I like to be in control (go figure!), and for our lives to run smoothly and so I do them. I suppose you could say, I have come to know the consequences of not doing the tasks, and it is far better and easier in the long run to do them.

Then, there are the tasks that are random. My husband might ask me to bank a cheque or take a suit to the dry cleaners. Again, it is just part of an orderly life and I go about those tasks amongst other tasks, in the most orderly manner to save time and energy but still get them done.

Do I sometimes have to push myself to get things done? Yes, all the time. Repetitive tasks are tedious and the older you get the less interested you become to unload the dishwasher. Trust me! I love specific projects because of the sense of achievement in them. Right now, I want to get to some painting outside, and then some planting of trees, and when I do, that task will give me a great sense of achievement. It is not a repetitive everyday task, but a project. See the difference?

The dominant man is inclined to issue instructions for repetitive tasks. Naturally, I understand the purpose of these tasks. Life is built around repetitive tasks and for a submissive woman such as me, it pays to give her tasks that give her a grounding effect, that put structure around her day, and which connect her to her man. Frankly, I think the more reason she can see for the task, the more 'purpose' that it has in her life, the better. I know I can be accused of being self-involved here and not serving the dominant. On the other hand, I think the dominant can expect better compliance when the submissive does see the reason for the task, and thus it is a win:win situation.

Think back now to my friend's advice. No one is expecting perfection and the dominant will deal with those times when the submissive slips up. And, think back too, to the posts you've read around the blogopshere about punishment and the fact that punishment is part and parcel of D/s; not to be avoided.

In real life, why do we rush back to the car when the meter is about to expire? We do so because we want to avoid the (negative) consequence of a fine. When we do tasks set for us by the dominant, we too, I expect, look to avoid the negative consequence. We look to please of course, and we want the sense of success too, but in those moments when we don't feel like it, it is the knowledge of a negative consequence that see us through to completion of the task.

To this end, if there is no follow through for non-compliance, things are bound to run amuck. Like the kid who got away without doing homework for weeks, and fails all his tests, so we are not dealt any favours when we don't do what is asked of us by the dominant.

Whilst I take no great joy in admitting it, the simple fact is that a negative consequence for non delivery is indeed, a necessary part of the process for the D/s relationship to thrive.