Character building

Imagine for a moment a family which struggles. Let's put some details around that. Imagine a man looking to gain some autonomy, a man that was raised on a farm by a father that went to war; a father damaged psychologically and unfit to raise the boy. Survival of the spirit demands that the man leave the family farm and make it on his own.

The man has good intentions. He wants to succeed and he is willing to work very hard to make that happen.  There is no issue with perseverance here. He's a hard working man. The farm may require the clearing of much of the land, but he'll do it a tree at a time if necessary. He will get up early and come in late if that is what he needs to do.

He wants to do right by his children. His birth family demanded that he be responsible from a young age and he has taken on that hard work ethic message. There is a great deal of anxiousness around his responsibilities and he exhibits this with flare ups and angry words. Success is a standard that must be met, not just by him but also by his offspring. It's natural to him to expect the children to focus on work, on achievement, on grades, on the higher education he never had, but wanted.

In this environment, those children with a relatively easy scholastic aptitude and an inbuilt sense of their place in the world, most likely the first born child, will fare all right. There are issues, because that hard work ethic is likely to plague the first born child's life also, but the scholastic aptitude and the attention given to the first born are assets.

If, in the mix of the family, there is a child that has a difficulty, maybe a reading difficulty or a more soft and anxious disposition, there are likely to be considerable issues. Since academic success is the measure of a child in this family, a sense of Self will be damaged and a need to prove one's worth will be high on the agenda.

Such a child is likely to try very hard to attain academic success, or any success, in the eyes of the father. A sporting achievement might be useful here, or simply hard work; taking on responsibilities beyond the age of the child.

Imagine in this family, there is illness that falls upon the family. The empathic member of the unit, the mother becomes chronically ill, terminally ill. Imagine that she is encouraged to travel the world in what might be her last year(s) of life, leaving behind children away at school but also children at home, at the local school. 

Imagine this young and vulnerable child, academically challenged, not at all failing but struggling to get those super duper scores to impress the father, now asked to take on much more responsibility than a child of his tender years should be asked to do, without the softness of his mother to offer him the succor and support he so needs. To survive, he must, he realizes intuitively, control his emotions; keep on keeping on.

In these early years of life, born into this family with this disposition and these challenges, to not display one's emotions, to keep one's head down, to work hard, to keep aiming high and to try everything in one's power to impress makes sense. It is a child's primary goal to survive one's childhood and so the child does what he needs to do.

In adulthood, and as the boy ages over time, the strategies are not nearly so successful. There is some semblance of  flexibility with his own children in terms of what success looks like, but academic scores are still what matter. It's only when his own children begin to exhibit significant signs of creativity that he is forced to surrender to the notion that there is more than one way to live a successful and happy life. 

Hard work, long hours, relentless striving with not much recognition of day or night, weekday or weekend is his life. It goes beyond need to work. This is a striving that has a life force of its own. And, a logic of its own. Certain tasks are avoided, sometimes for decades, whilst other tasks are undertaken with a microscopic precision; the details sometimes far more important than the overview demands. The big picture is not able to be seen.

When I think about such characters for a story I find myself wanting and yet unable to get them to a place where damage is healed. If a person strongly believes that the way they live is the right way to live, what can the family do about this? Where would a therapist begin if such a man ever agreed to evaluate his thinking and strategies? This is all so unlikely.

I listen to a podcast of two psychologists shooting the breeze about various issues relating to treatment of personality disorders and it was interesting to hear what they had to say about a personality such as I have painted above. For one thing, a year's therapy was seen as a minimum, 50 sessions. The goals would be to reduce the high standards, re-scripting, which largely means re-parenting, or chair work; looking at what a healthy parent might have said or done in certain circumstances.

Another interesting treatment strategy would be for the person be set a goal but in a shorter time than they would allow on their own. The idea is to break down the perfectionism whilst also getting tasks achieved.

Pushing the notion that emotions are a good thing was another strategy; not just anger which comes so naturally to someone who has been traumatized in childhood but a whole range of emotions; re-evaluating vulnerability as a way into true intimacy. No small task.

Healing

There is a saying that you can't heal what you can't see. This is why I went searching for answers about how I felt because I knew what I felt wasn't how I wanted to feel, and intuitively I understood that I needed to know where I had been to begin to heal.

I've read a number of books now on topics that seemed related to my circumstances. There was marginal assistance through the psychology sessions I have had but nothing directly related to a full understanding of my circumstances and certainly no advice was administered as to what to do. In other words, there was no diagnosis and no treatment plan.

However, I feel quite clear about what happened to me now and this is a great blessing, to see the history clearly. This is profound.

I think when the brain has been subjected to thinking in a certain way over a long period of time - I am in my early 60s - it is not realistic to think that I won't have some tough moments going forward, but I definitely feel grateful to have understanding, and so long as I am kind to myself, which I see as vital, I think there is much reason to be hopeful that the shame and blame that I put on myself will fade.

It was difficult to say the least to learn that it was my inner critic that kept me in torment. I blamed myself for not being stronger and more resilient, whereas now I am learning to turn that message around:

"Things were difficult for you for no fault of your own. You had to survive, and you did what you could to survive. Now, new strategies are needed to thrive. And, you are putting those strategies in place. Be proud of yourself."

Without going into too much boring detail about my reading and understanding here's what I discovered:

- Although my parents loved me in an overarching way (the feeling was no doubt in their hearts) I was not given a childhood. I have no memories of being kissed, cuddled, held. I have no memories of being read to at night, or being tucked into bed. I didn't eat with my parents. My parents demanded that their two children be as little effort as possible and so I closed down my emotions, was 'good'.

- I began to masturbate at a very early age and this was my attempt at 'self-soothing'. My childhood environment did not provide me with a sense of safety and masturbating myself to sleep became a survival strategy for me; a way of soothing my troubled mind that was flooded with chemicals that made my body and mind anxiety prone.

- I am kinky and this is now hard wired and cannot be alerted. Fear and sexual arousal at a certain point intertwined.I don't seek to alter it. It is obvious, day by day, that I am aroused in a 'feel good' and sexual way when I have an overt sense of ownership. I want to be 'attached' to my husband. He gets this, fortunately. He is comfortable with it. I have shared my understandings with him.

- I was susceptible to having my attachment system activated due to the lack of mother love. I was also susceptible to having my inner critic activated and exacerbated. It hadn't occurred to me that the lack of mother love repercussions were the fault of my parents but rather I blamed myself, unconsciously. I now understand the thoughts. I wasn't lovable. I wasn't worthy of love. I wasn't pretty enough, or sexual enough. Importantly, I needed to be pleasing. I had learned this as a child. If you don't act how they want you to act, they reject you.

- In short, I was highly vulnerable to any sort of narcissistic behavior of another; to love-bombing, to verbal abuse; manipulation. My trained sense of loyalty to people, even when they behaved in a  selfish and unloving way made me feel that I needed to find even more tolerance and strength for toxic behavior.

- What I came to see was that in the end it wasn't about the Other. It was about the fact that I had failed to understand that any disrespectful behavior towards me should have been a red flag on which I acted to create a boundary against the toxicity of the relationship.

- I was kind of right. It was all my fault, no matter what the training of my childhood. You see, I can't change the behavior of others, but I can change my behavior and in this way I can change how I feel. It is in my power to say no to a sense of blame and shame, to have some control over the depression; to say yes to a sense of personal power; to have respect for myself.

This is a game changer. I can't say I won't have tough days. I know I will. But, there's a huge sense of power over my destiny now.

I am eternally grateful to Kelly McDaniel who wrote 'Ready to Heal: Breaking Free of Addictive Relationships' and to Abdul Saad of Vital Mind Psychology who has free on You Tube videos that have helped me so much.

There are very good people in the world. Of this, I have no doubt. If you have struggled in a similar way to the way I have struggled, I encourage you to seek your answers. Once you know what in fact happened to you, you are on your way to healing. Know that you are not alone. You deserve to be happy.

The sacral chakra

When you find yourself on a 'spiritual journey' of some sort it's a clear indication that something about your inner or outer life has gone wrong. Catherine Ingram, a woman who has met nearly all the great spiritual leaders in terms of interviewing them likes to say, 'I hang out with the broken hearted'.

It's almost guaranteed that an exploration outwards on this spiritual journey leads you inward. Meditation, of course, is a going inward experience. In the course of meditation I think most people search for the nothingness phenomena only to realize that the mind doesn't stop for more than a few breaths at a time.

In fact, it becomes an exercise in acceptance. The mind doesn't stop but it gets quieter as breathing is deeper and more relaxed. The thoughts in the mind are more available and so we notice the thoughts, the madness of the mind, and we find that it doesn't really matter after all. We can't control the thoughts - didn't ask for them, aren't responsible for them - and so we can begin to laugh at the absurdity of them.

Somewhere in the process you learn more about yourself on the spiritual journey. Most likely, it is the behavior of other people that led you to go off and explore the spiritual life, but isn't it ironic that it all leads back to you, your understanding that forgiveness of others is a gift to yourself, for example.

Katie Byron is famous for her very simple and profound realization that life is much happier and calmer if we remind ourselves constantly, until it becomes second nature, that we need to look after our own business, and not that of other people. There's no tolerance for trying to change or modify others, for spending time trying to fix people. As she says, if you busy yourself worrying about other people's lives, who is it that is living your life?

When things get chaotic and dramatic in your life, I do feel that there is good cause to investigate that, if for no other reason than to stop the drama. Some people have more tolerance for drama. As a younger person I did better with drama than I do in my older years. Eventually, drama wore me down and I needed to put an end to it.

I became almost an expert in the reasons for drama in one's soul and behavior, and once I had that sorted out, I became adept in stopping the drama to the extent possible. There is a warning here, a pitfall that comes with this sort of knowledge and expertise. In the same ways that stars in  the eyes will protect young love, it is easier to love someone when one is ignorant of what is going on. Disconnection occurs when conversation fails. You are on your own.

For those with an open and forgiving heart, almost too much empathy, it is a shock and a deeply felt sense of discomfort to realize that the heart can close down. Defensive measures used to end drama and chaos of those with limited awareness or consciousness can create a blockage in the sacral chakra. This comes as a great shock.

Accepting reality, the 'what is', the question becomes, how does one maintain boundaries such that chaos and drama is kept at bay at the same time as one endeavors to open the heart again; puts on display again the sort of vulnerability that allows for intimacy that is actually deeply desired? This is part of a closed heart chakra, the push and pull.

It's interesting that as a blockage is acknowledged, an opportunity is created for the heart to begin to open up again, much like a flower. It is not likely to be a gush of momentum, for the heart is tender now. More like a soft breeze that flows through an open window, felt gently on the skin. It feels good. It feels like a delightful change in the atmosphere of the inner landscape. One begins to feel that healing is occurring.

Shame

Shame is a concept I've always struggled with. Guilt comes from a feeling that you have hurt another person or taken a wrong action. You've made a mistake. I have felt guilt and can speak to moments of guilt, no problem.

But, shame is so much more personal, so much more difficult to say out loud or even to write about in an anonymous online journal. Shame comes from the feeling that you are worthless, that you are a mistake, or that there is something wrong with you as a person. It's shame, I think, that keeps a person in a state of denial or lack of awareness.

Here are a few examples of shame:

'You think that others are judging you.' and 'You believe that you have to prove your worth to others'.

I can speak to this, bucket loads. I was living and working in the United States. I wanted to take leave to go home to Australia for a visit but was told I hadn't accrued enough time there. I asked if I could make up the time over the next several weeks to enable me to take the time off. They offered me secretarial work and after my job I'd stay back and type/send telexes (yep, I'm that antiquated!) off to various parts of the world.

This was entirely reasonable and in just about every way I was fine with the task. But, one evening, a wave of shame washed over me as I sat in front of a typewriter in what was the typist pool. What was I doing? Where was my life heading?

I had followed my very new husband to the other side of the world without a work visa (only he qualified for that) which meant that I had to take one of the only jobs in town - working for another country. Yes, I had qualifications to work there and doing this sort of job wasn't too far outside those specifications but I knew deep in my bones at that moment that I was selling myself short, hiding in a dead end job rather than having the guts to seek more. In a sense my circumstances were perfectly aligned with my lack of courage, and in that moment of shame all was revealed to me.

Thirty or so years later I found myself at my University College reunion. I was happy to attend the evening, although when arriving into the room for some time it felt like I knew no-one. People didn't look like themselves on first glance, but as we introduced ourselves to one another the memories came flooding back. They were, and are, such lovely people, very engaging, warm and welcoming. But, again that moment of shame early on in the evening was felt with such force that it nearly knocked me down. I felt dread at having to answer their questions, 'And, what do you do?'

These people had long careers in education, in science, in medicine. What did I have to show for the decades that had passed? I've been a mother, a devoted mother and a good one I think. I had volunteered at school, been a member of auxiliary groups, had some jobs along the way, but where was the career?

My introversion, or perhaps my shame - a fear that others will reject me, a fear of standing up for myself, an ability to hide my emotions, an inability to believe in myself and my worth - has held me back.

My most recent example of this utterly overwhelming sense of shame is when I was doing the Masters. There is a part of me that knows that I'm not stupid, but there is also a part of me that fears failure - the annihilating fear of being shown to be what I think I am inside, average.

I had determined to do one subject at a time. Each subject is 12 weeks long with plenty of work to get done and then the next subject starts immediately the next week. Still, I'd be traveling along all right and I thought I'd enroll for two subjects concurrently.

There reached a moment when panic set in. How was I going to keep the high marks rolling in at the faster pace? I pulled up a tutor's email and explained I'd have to drop out of her subject. She replied to say that there was absolutely no need. I was going along beautifully at a high standard and just keep going, not far to go now. The option to fail/hide/run away was taken away from me.

In fact, when the comments came back for the piece of writing I submitted towards a prospective novel she wrote, 'I'm sure your work will be published soon.' I didn't even let it wash over me and I still have not. I felt I must have conned her in some way, though I don't quite know how I would have done that.

There is no doubt that I am my harshest critic. It is a simple statement of fact that I am an introvert and don't really have the mental energy or desire for a career or full time work. I loved my work last week at the school but the thought of having to do it all over again the next day would not have been a happy thought. I use up a lot of resources to be around people, giving to people. I adore it but then afterward I need to spend time alone.

Writing is ideal because I can do that alone and then go out and be with the world when that is done. I can be quite hungry to interact with the world when I have had sufficient time alone. But, I struggle to believe that I have any ability, though I do have glimpses of feeling good about my work.

I can't deny that the shame sits in my bones, still. There is no-one in my family who wants me to work or expects me to work, except my mother who thinks I'd have fun working in a dress shop. Nope. I actually wouldn't enjoy that.

Another example of feeling shame is when someone doesn't stand up for herself/himself. This is a long and old story. I have assumed the Caretaker role in a number of capacities over my life. Whilst on some level it felt comfortable to do so, I did know deep down that it caused me deeply distressing feelings of shame. There's damage there, it's undeniable and obvious to me now, with unhealed wounds. I am working on it, working specifically with this element of shame, cognizant that  people who suffer with narcissistic tendencies have enveloped me through the years. I'm investigating this. It's two steps forward and one step back, but much progress is being made.

Margaret Fjelstad, a therapist who works with people who have taken on the Caretaker role such as myself writes, 'Letting go of shame happens simultaneously as you learn to care for and value yourself. When you come to the decision that you are the real judge of your life and that you belong on this earth as much as anyone else, you will find that you no longer feel there is something wrong with you..."

I look forward to that day.

Receiving and giving love

My experience at the meditation retreat was profound and I've found myself wanting to build on it. I've been quietly mining that experience looking for personal answers, sometimes patiently allowing clarity to rise up and sometimes trying to force revelations by focusing in on them.

In effect the meditation retreat was a sort of  'running away' experience. To put it another way, I was doing a 'geographical'. As my 60th year of life approached, my 60th birthday stood out to me as one day I wanted to completely avoid. When I looked at the dates of the retreat and discovered the final day was the day I turned 60, the deal was sealed. I filled in my registration and sent off my deposit.
I was to be travelling to the retreat with a friend and I mentioned to her the fact that I would be turning 60 on the final day.  She tucked it behind her ear.

The first sleep of my 60th year was not a good one. I woke at 3 am restless and it came into my consciousness that the day had arrived. I managed to get back to sleep but a half hour or so before the morning gong sounded alerting us to the fact that we had to get ready for the morning meditation I woke from a dreadful nightmare. It was a traumatic and confusing dream wherein there was some psychotic man running about causing havoc whilst at the same time I was somehow looking after a young child (who happened to have abilities beyond its age) and trying to keep it safe. Somehow, in all the mayhem and chaos the man was causing I lost the child.

It was at this moment I woke up. I lay there, tired, and bit by bit the details of the nightmare came back to me. It sunk in that I had lost a child for which I was responsible. It was then that I began to cry; soft, woeful, tragic tears for a child that didn't exist. It wasn't the greatest start to the day but I became conscious of birds singing outside my bedroom window and it brought me back to the physical moment. I got up and showered and dressed and made myself pretty. That's a defence you know; a defence against any slings and arrows of the emotional kind that might come my way on this day I'd rather pretend wasn't happening.

There was a knock on my door and when I opened it there was my friend holding a paper plate on which sat  a large golden kiwifruit and a skewer through it with little white tags attached to it with messages written on the tags wishing me a happy birthday. The darling girl had improvised. Without a candle or a cake she'd used what she had. We were supposed to be in silence, but I giggled. She'd made me so happy. I wasn't sure about golden kiwifruit at the time; had been ignoring them, but she insisted I eat it right there and then and I quickly discovered the golden kiwifruit are absolutely delicious. I buy them now all the time. (They are great for preventing bowel cancer by the way.)

The morning meditation was lovely but  at the conclusion of it my friend who led the final morning meditation couldn't resist informing the group that I had just turned 60. They all gave me silent hugs, a little hand gesture we learned earlier in the week. I took in the love. It wasn't easy - I was shy -  but I took it in. I was learning. I was growing. I was healing. At breakfast people silently came up to me and hugged me and it effected me deeply that these people who were strangers to me a few days ago and I were now quite closely connected. It was more lovely than I can say to be in silence but to take in love.

It was a very profound final morning, for all of us. We all spoke and it was clear we were all moved by the experiences of the week. I never have, and I may never again, be in such a stirring experience. We had shared vulnerability and loss together and in the bearing of those sadnesses, we'd bonded as a group.

Our final meal together before the bus would wisk me away to the airport, so that I'd be home to my family for the evening, was lunch. I was finishing off a plate of salad when I saw from the corner of my left eye a woman carrying a huge cake with candles approaching me. Everyone was suddenly huddled around me singing me 'Happy Birthday'. It was such a shock, so unexpected, that when they stopped singing I simply couldn't find words. They smiled and giggled a little. 'Thank you everyone,' I finally managed, 'from the bottom of my heart. I will remember this moment for a very long time.' And, I certainly will.

The bus carried me away shortly thereafter with a group of lovely girls, and I was fine. Happy. At the airport, alone, I checked my phone to discover these amazing messages from my children, how I was the best thing since sliced bread yadda yadda, and that's when I completely fell apart. The emotions of the week but particularly the day had toppled me over. I sat and cried. My makeup dissolved. No-one approached me, probably too frightened at watching a woman emotionally collapse before their eyes. I put  myself together in the bathroom such that the kind gentleman that sat beside me in the plane back to Australia thought, hopefully, that I was relatively normal.

I could go on and on but let's get to the moral of the story. The most important lesson of the retreat for me was that I have trouble receiving love. Although I hold a great deal of love in my heart and express it in all sorts of ways to others, I am, I think, so frightened of not receiving love back and wondering if I'll survive that, that I shield myself from love.

On my 60th birthday I let love in. I let people love me and it felt great.

There's a theory that I'm still trying to digest that says that people like me who have trouble letting people love them are attracted to people who have the same difficulty, and that they are attracted to you. The dance gets going and never stops until or if somehow the cycle is broken.

The experts on this stuff say that healing starts when you can love yourself, embrace yourself - no longer giving without receiving, or receiving without giving.

First comes the awareness; second the putting into practice.

Contrived categories

I'm going through a period of time where I take nothing for granted, where I question all orthodoxies, and I quite simply observe, both myself and others. I'm not judging others, far from it. I take a 'live and let live' point of view. I'm simply being attentive to the thoughts running through my head and keeping an open mind as to my feelings; identifying my own needs and what works well for me.

If you think about narcissism as being a scale of 1-10 and healthy narcissism being somewhere in the midde - 5 - then I've been an 'echoist', operating about on a 3. Inevitably, that type of operating in the world proved to be very uncomfortable for me and it was this discomfort that led me to seek out ways to function more in the 'healthy narcissism' category, closer to the middle. I certainly didn't want to suddenly be any sort of leader but nor did I want to experience the emotional pain of feeling that I didn't have a voice.

I discovered that I had arrived in the echoist's frame of thinking through a combination of having been born with an introverts' quiet nature and to a family that encouraged me to be independent early and to leave them to do what they felt they had to do. I was encouraged to be good, quiet, to accept, to not complain and to be an academically high achieving child. I complied.

Ultimately, I found myself craving an intense sexual experience as well as the subordinate position in a personal relationship; to dance with the polar opposite of myself; a leader that was extroverted and demanding. I did everything I could to be pleasing, accepted the manipulation of my mind as part of the contract. It was uncomfortable at times, confusing and upsetting. But, I had some sort of vague sense that if I kept with the program, stayed true to the course, all would be revealed to me in good time. I didn't quite know where I was going but I was on my way and that's what mattered to me; to get somewhere where there would be some clarity concerning the purpose of this long expedition on which I was fixated.

It was something of a shock to realize that the journey had been, in so many ways, about my own self-doubts. Nearly everything that hadn't worked well in my life related to my lack of personal power. There it was in a nutshell. I needed to speak my mind, say what worked and didn't work; what I needed and could not cope with; what I believed. I needed a vote; not to cede the vote but rather for my thoughts and opinions to be sought and considered. I needed to have a voice in the matters that had a direct bearing on me. To be 'the doll' for periods of time: no problem. But, to give up the right to voice opinions; to express what I needed, something that only I could possibly know; that was something that I found impossible to give up.

I didn't need, I discovered, to be torn down or punished or crushed/broken. I needed a man to help me see my strengths as well as my weaknesses; to encourage me to see what others see when they interact with me; a confident, capable woman. I just couldn't see that woman, didn't feel that woman. I was totally lacking in self-confidence. David, my dominant friend who died a few years ago now, he saw that lack of self-confidence. That's why I miss him so. I could be my vulnerable self with David. He wasn't afraid or put off by that vulnerability. He worked with it, bless him. He was fond of me as the complete entity that I am. (As egoless as I aim to be, I don't think that you can, or should, negate the importance of those last two words - I am.)

I'm talking now, talking the legs off the iron pot. I'm explaining my discoveries to my husband daily and he's listening to me simply because he can see that this is so very, very important to me; crucial that I talk and talk until I have voiced it all. We're still playing, he's still in charge, but I feel that I am also expressing my personhood now. I feel more comfortable in my skin and more calm in my mind. No longer concerned about fitting into any contrived category, or people pleasing in a sacrificial way (that is, doing what is told even if I am having doubts), I feel authentically me, closer and closer to operating in a healthy narcissism category. That's a good thing. I am certain of it.

This too shall pass

The end of a relationship, particularly a relationship in which a power dynamic has been played out, is never easy. I think there are reasons why these sorts of relationships are particularly painful when they come to an end. A power dynamic assumes that one person is in charge; one person is the authority figure, and thus the other person is the humbled entity; the child, if you will; the vulnerable soul. The submissive partner is not just losing a union with another person. She is losing the opportunity to express her self in a way she can't do in other relationships.

I'm not implying for a second that the dominant member of the union doesn't suffer at the end of such intense couplings. I think that they too are vulnerable to suffering and pain when the submissive is no longer under their care and guidance. But my point is that since it is the submissive partner who may have spent years learning how to yield and 'let go' to the other, it's a particularly hard task for her to find her own personal power; to stand on her own two feet. There's a very strong possibility that she (or he) will remain in a sort of grief state for a prolonged period of time.

It was interesting then to hear Oprah talk to Stanford Graduate School of Business students and mention a time when she sat with Dr Phil and a grieving mother whose child had died. This mother didn't want to go on living.

'Why,' asked Dr Phil, 'do you spend time in grief rather than celebrating the life of your child and the love  you shared?' (words to that effect).

Ophrah said she could feel a shift; a transformation of mindset. It gave me tingles to hear that.

I immediately thought about my submissively inclined friend in her grief at the end of her power dynamic with her partner. I thought about how she needed to reframe what had happened to her; that they had had a wonderful opportunity, the two of them, to explore themselves through a relationship that had lasted years and years, and that whilst it was now sad, very sad, it had been a glorious time in their lives, and one they would not have missed for the world.

Oprah was especially impressive that day talking to the students. You don't hang about with people like Maya Angelou and Nelson Mandela and not gain some wisdom. She said this:

'Your life is your greatest teacher...to bring you home to yourself...connect to your energy force and then you are your best.'

She also said this:

'When the personality comes to serve the energy of your soul that is authentic empowerment.'

She believes that we are walking towards our 'supreme moment of destiny'. How incredible that after all she has achieved she believes she is still walking that path! Still, she understands that on her path she has the opportunity to connect people to ideas and stories and to help them live better lives. Oh yes, I get that!

After all her years of interviewing every kind of person from every walk of life she believes that every person in the world wants the same thing and asks the same questions:

'Can you hear me? Do you see me? Are you fully here with me?'

There is no question that a power dynamic is an opportunity to explore these very deep, universal questions and themes. We tend to bare our soul to one another in such a dynamic in a way that we can't do with other relationships. Or, we try.

'Here are my failings. Here are my needs and my wants. Here is my hurt and pain left over from childhood. Here's what I haven't got a handle on yet. Touch my vulnerabilities. Look deep into my heart and my soul and get close to the shadow that follows me relentlessly. Embrace the darkness. Love me. Love the whole me with your whole heart. Be a whole hearted person. I'm vulnerable, show me your vulnerability too. Show me your fear. Open up. Be free. Safe, with me.'

This is what we are saying, perhaps not in words but in actions and deeds; in our efforts to reach the core and embrace the core, imperfect as it may be.

Is it any wonder we feel pain when that very special person in our lives is suddenly not there?

Yet, if it is true, and I believe it to be true, that every experience is a step closer to coming home to ourselves, what an amazing opportunity to get so close!

The waves above the water may induce a tempest, a storm of life threatening proportions at any given moment in our lives. An hour later the waves may settle; perhaps only ripples are noticeable. Yet, underneath the sea, there is always calm. The waves of our lives don't effect that which is always there, steady. That's home.

This too shall pass.

Service

Years ago, I shared some correspondence with a genuine but odd sort of person with a strong understanding of what made submissive women tick. He trained them, not just on the Internet but at his home and for other men sometimes. He was blunt and in any body's terms, rude, but I continued to correspond to gather what wisdom he might have to help me understand myself.

He spoke of 'service'. It was a pattern I identified, and I asked why he often talked of 'serving'. I'd been providing service to others all my life, and it wasn't necessarily getting me closer to feeling whatever I needed to feel to be comfortable in my own skin. He was obtuse, or he pretended he was obtuse, and he said he didn't know.

It's come up again in various capacities over time. I will read something, or someone will say something in conversation like, "You need to serve". It's almost as if there is some innate understanding in some people that some women truly do need to be in that serving/slave mode in order to fully express themselves; in order to feel at peace within their own minds and bodies.

When I look back over the past several years and I think about the times when I did feel complete I was, in fact, 'serving'. There was something asked of me and thus I had an opportunity to serve. If I served well and gave pleasure, and thus received praise, I was perfectly content. If I didn't serve well and didn't please and instead was admonished, I felt aberrant. It prompted me to want to serve better next time because I hate displeasing. I hate the feelings it generates in me. Think of it like this for a moment: Providing good service = a happy and content submissive.

There are two points I'd like to make about that. First of all, if you don't provide a submissive woman with those opportunities to serve it's almost tantamount to not feeding a baby. You are robbing her of one of her basic necessities of life. Oh, she'll cook or do the laundry or buy you a shirt in lieu of the more intense and life-giving service she needs to give to you, but it will never be enough to scratch her itch. It is this wisdom that my gentleman correspondent knew in his bones but refused to put into sentences for me.

Secondly, if a submissive woman is frantic for particular feelings, that feeling of having served well, thus putting her world on the right axis, she may well do just about anything you ask. It's typical for a submissive woman at some stage to be asked by a Dominant what she wants. She can speak to her fantasy life, of course, but that doesn't necessarily get you closer to what she wants in real life. You could have her fill in a list of various BDSM activities and that would gauge her experience and her inclinations. But, given that the sub-text is 'Geez, I just want to serve you. I want that feeling that comes when I do that and after I do that and you're pleased with me and we're in harmony...' it is altogether possible that you can lead a submissive woman down roads and lanes that she would never have thought to go.

A Dominant has a great deal of responsibility because there is just no doubt that a submissive woman is vulnerable to his state of mind. She is constantly checking in as to his responses. Does he want her to do something that makes her skin crawl? Well, what are her options? She could say she can't do that, or doesn't want to do that, or that it doesn't feel right, but she's risking making him unhappy and thus herself unhappy, and so she adapts to his needs and fancy, whether they are particularly healthy for her or not. This is the risk.

In an ideal relationship, there will be a flow of communication between both people that means they are in tune with one another and these sort of issues can be addressed before they become big boulders of misunderstanding. I've heard so much about 'communication is key' but not having been in a relationship with a steady flow of shared ideas and thoughts I haven't entirely understood how that works. I've never been that exposed. It hasn't been wanted.

Now that I do understand that my innate drive is to serve I realize how easily I could be, or have been, seduced to believe anything. For some time, I fell back on my own wits, my own instincts to keep me safe. I reached a point where I doubted my ability to make a decision for myself too. I just crawled back to a safe place inside myself where nobody could hurt me any more. I am happy to say that I feel stronger now, at peace with my own nature. I understand what I need. I understand myself and what happened in the journey thus far.

The final bow

As has been well chronicled, cindi has had a lot of encouragement to be the one and true identity. Goodness, my mentor was unhappy about this blog years ago. But, I held onto it and returned to it repeatedly feeling that it was a matter of survival really; that I'd be swamped without this blog to return to, to state my case, free of influence; free to say what was on my mind.

Something very profound happened nearly a week ago now. I had a session with a mind/body practitioner. You see, my emotional distress had become physical distress and my body was hurting so much - the left side of my body: my neck, shoulders, back and hip - that I couldn't walk up stairs without being in agony. I was never free of pain. And, the negative chatter in my head, that was relentless.

This practitioner is not a stranger to me. I met him over two years ago and I began to do some group work with him a few months ago. I was becoming aware of the mind/body connection and when I was in real trouble I sought him out, rather than, say, a physiotherapist. I knew I needed more.

He sat me down in front of him, face to face. He poured me a cup of Nature's Garden tea. He reminded me that the pain in my body was related to my emotions. I can't reconstruct how he managed to get me to spill all, but I did. I told him about cindi, about my true identity, my submissive mindset.

Actually, he used words to describe me, 'an obedient pet', I remember that now. He may have meant my role in my marriage, I'm not sure, but they were the words that opened the flood gates.

'You don't like me using those words, do you?'

'I can be that. I can play in those spaces. I love to play in those spaces.'

He took that in, nodded slightly, and that's when it all tumbled out.


He asked me if I was interested in having my face read. I don't enjoy having photos taken of me usually but I agreed and soon thereafter he sat me down again and showed me the face that people see and the interior me. He showed me cindi.

I was blown away. cindi isn't present on this blog. That's the exterior me.

cindi is profoudly, deeply vulnerable. She is more than submissive. I'd call her a slave. She lives in a small space. She is the embodiment of empathy and love. She needs a lot of love. She is crying out for it.

It was hard for me to look at cindi. Truly, I wished I could look away. She is that vulnerable. Still, I did continue to look at her, and as I looked at her, I accepted her as the real me.

'When you look out into the world ask, what does CINDI see? How would cindi respond to this person?'

Of course. Of course. The movement between the one persona and the other was hurting me.  I could see that now. I had to embrace cindi as my one and true entity. I had to live true to cindi.

It was time to heal my body and heal it he did. It was very painful at times but I have gone from excruciating pain on Monday to walking my dog within the Botanical Gardens on Friday afternoon virtually pain free.

The chatter has gone. The dreadful negative chatter that was filling my mind has gone. As cindi, true to myself, I am making decisions with clarity. My problems are not mysteriously and suddenly all gone, but I feel freer. I regularly check in with myself and this allows me to put what happens into a particular context. I can give out positive energy but I am not taking in negative energy. I am simply very content in my own skin.

It's been a long journey from the inception of this blog to now. It's often been a great comfort to write here and to receive some of the lovely comments I have received over time. They warmed my heart and reminded me that I was not alone. We are never truly alone, part of one big consciousness, but we must wrestle with our minds alone. We must find the strength and clarity to be true to ourselves. I urge you to do that.

Vesta bows and slips away; slips away peacefully. Be well.

Personalities within BDSM players

I recently read an article based on research done that compared BDSM players to standard groups based on the criteria of personality types. The researcher used the following personality factors - neuroticism, extraversion, openness to experience, conscientiousness and agreeableness. (I'm sorry I can't get back to the relevant article but if I find it I'll link it here.)

 As his research progressed he felt he may have stumbled upon a sixth personality factor relevant to the research - honesty/humility. People who identify as 'submissive' score particularly high on their 'desire to obey and be subjugated', seek self-basement and humiliation, and the researcher wondered if humiliation and humility might be related. In the same way people who identified as 'dominant' might be the opposite - possess a desire to feel superior to others, he speculated.

To return to the research findings, and bearing in mind that the researcher felt that these findings were by no means hard and fast, with there being some possible questions still in relation to the control group, some interesting theories emerged.

If one considers one of the factors of personality the researcher considered, agreeableness, dominants and submissives tend to be on the opposite sides of the scale. The definition of agreeableness used was pleasantness and consideration for the comforts of other people. Submissive people tended to be about the same as the control people on this criteria, but dominants were low. They tend to be "tough rather than tender minded' with a willingness to make hard decisions. They are "bossy" people and demanding in the way they relate to others. (What a shock!)

The researcher speculated, and this is interesting because I have read many people make a statement that is opposite to this, that the majority of people drawn to roles reflect rather than compensate for their normal personalities.  People into BDSM, he felt, generally prefer the role that fits their own level of agreeableness. (I agree with this.)

In general life people tend to find disagreeableness as annoying and rude. Dominants, he determined, were "relatively shameless, self-confident, not easily embarrassed" and not guilty or shy about inflicting punishments. But, in the roles of BDSM "doms have found a way to express their disagreeableness in a way that is actually welcomed and appreciated by submissive partners".

This makes sense to me. I know I am often spoken to in a way that most women wouldn't care for. But, I process it differently. The bossiness is appealing to me, especially if 'bimbo' is present. It gives me tingles down my spine. It makes me feel alive. It's an "oh thank god, he's feeling particularly dominant today" feeling that comes as such a relief, usually. I'm much less excited when I am being hauled over the coals I should mention, or when the dominant is choosing to 'railroad' me with a deep, angry, aggressive tone of voice.

If one considers another factor of personality - extraversion - what he had to say about submissives particularly interested me. It appears we might be more extraverted than the control group; that is more sociable and assertive. (More assertive? Really? How interesting) It also appears that we may have a particularly friendly outgoing nature. We are excitement seeking. He doesn't mean that we necessarily like riding roller coasters (I pathologically hate to do that) but rather that the attention and the unpredictability in role-playing satisfies our need for excitement. I think this is absolutely right. I love the tango of BDSM. I light up when I am around a man being a little dominant with me in a playful way in almost any situation.

What alarmed me was what the researcher had to say about neuroticism; that is anxious attachment, a need for approval and sensitivity to rejection, all submissive traits. Dominants scored significantly low -the statistically largest different between groups - on neuroticism, rejection sensitivity and the need for approval. The alarm is based on the fact that rejection sensitivity and a need for approval are negatively correlated with subjective well-being; in other words happiness. Dominants scored high in happiness, he determined, concluding that most of the psychological benefits associated with BDSM belong to Dominants. (High extraversion + low neuroticism = greater overall happiness)

Of course these are all generalizations and don't relate to any two particular people and their relationship. However, the findings are worthy of consideration, especially as I compare them to literature given to me by my psychologist a few years ago. Those readers who have been around a while may remember that my psychologist identified in me a need to please people such that she felt that I was subjugating myself into unhappiness. I was allowing people to control me, she said. The article she gave me to read and make notes on so that we could discuss it stated, "Subjugation robs you of a clear sense of what you want and need - of who you are".

In the article there were two main reasons given why people subjugate themselves and the one that relates to me (since I don't subjugate myself out of guilt, though maybe to relieve the pain of others at times) is that people subjugate because they anticipate rejection, retaliation, or abandonment. This reminds me of a conversation I had with a dominant this morning and he made the point that a submissive can never, in a sense, relax. I responded that she can relax so long as she is perfect (haha) and this may, in fact, be relevant to the point here. The dynamic is set up specifically and intentionally to challenge the submissive and hence a bit of fear/concern/neuroticism about how she is doing and whether she has pleased is part and parcel of the game. We need to be aware of this, that the game is rigged against us, and not take it too personally, maybe.

To return to the subjugation article I was given to read, "It is part of the subjugation trap for you to believe it is somehow wrong for you to express your needs." That's true. I've definitely made that mistake (although allowing my submissiveness out with a strict dominant is one of my most vital needs).

The good news is that in the past few days there has been revelatory thought about that. I've lived for years, via the BDSM roles, with the feeling that I was on the cusp of being abandoned. Maybe, that was accurate. I really have no way of knowing this. But, I realized something lately that has freed me in my mind and made me much less neurotic and therefore more able to maintain a sense of happiness. Here it is. I am not likely to be abandoned at all. For one thing, I have been married for 35 years later this year. That's pretty stable! And, my mentor and I have endured one another (nah, I really mean forged a lasting and valuable friendship of sorts) that has spanned well over 5 years in length. It's time to stop feeling that I might be abandoned at any minute, don't you agree? And, if I am, well, I'll deal with that then and not today.

I honestly do and always will hate not pleasing. I loathe to be in the bad books and to be punished, especially through dismissal for a time. I think it makes me feel like the little girl that I never was, since I never was really punished. Punishment also makes me dwell on my weaknesses which is never easy either. I know I can be a 'hot head' and 'full of myself' and punishment makes me admit it, even if just to myself.

I think the meditation has helped, reading lots of spiritual words. I worry less about what will come later and live much more in the moment. I don't try to push for what I want so much, more confident in the fact that good things will come my way in good time.

I trust, not just in those dominant powers that influence my life, but in life in general. Sure, there is a bad and violent force in the world but I stand with the Headmaster of my son's previous school when he says 'There is more good than there is bad.'

I think there are tremendous psychological benefits to being in the submissive role but one must develop a strong inner self, an understanding that we must express what we need and want, and that, when all is said and done, we do what we do, dominant and submissive, because we crave intimacy. Even when my masochistic needs are incredibly high and I crave the nastiness of the dominant to dig his fangs deep into my skin, that's all about intimacy too. We can be vulnerable and strong at the same moment.

I think the research this man has done points out some important tendencies in BDSM players which must be considered and evaluated. It's vital that submissive people recognize that they can be vulnerable people and then work on those tendencies towards neuroticism. It's also important, I would say, that dominant people work on their tendency to be "relatively shameless". That can't be good.

Loving two men

What fascinates me is how life keeps changing and we keep changing but that fundamentally we don't change. We can gain great insight, but at the core we simply do not change. I think that for quite some time I fought against that and to some extent I always will.

I happen to be one of those people, perhaps caught up in the mix of a difficult personal dilemma, that wanted to explore and understand what was happening to her inside. I think Jane Fonda did something similar. Conscious that she didn't feel "whole", that she wasn't able to bring "her whole self" to the table in her marriage with Ted Turner, she left a man she loved and decided to build a new life for herself. That's no small thing. It takes a lot of courage to do that.

I listen to TED talks regularly and in her talk about vulnerability Brene Brown talked about her research and how "wholehearted people" have the courage to be imperfect, to tell who they are with their whole heart; be compassionate with themselves and with others.

I think I've embraced vulnerability in this web journal. I think I've talked about myself with my whole heart. I've explored what I do wrong and I what I do right. I've be open to growing and exploring. I've been open to changing. I did change. I learned a great deal, not just about myself but how to be a better person. Most of all I learned to accept. But, the very core of me; what I'd love to have, experience and feel - that's just the same. That didn't change. That won't change.

Here's what I know. I married very young. I was only 24 years old and I really didn't know enough about myself to be choosing a partner for the rest of my life. It's the lucky 24 year old that does manage to do that. Yet, in so many ways we have been very well suited. There must have been some good and natural instincts that were aiding me and I married a good man; a kind man. We both wanted children and to be part of a family and we really were, as much as anyone can be, good parents. There is an enormous amount of love going around our family. Most important of all, all the children feel that they are 'good enough'. All the children believe that they are worthy of love and belonging, and as Brene Brown says, that is the real job of parents.

I'm someone who thrives on sexual and physical attention; the sort of romantic love where I feel someone is leading the way. The fucktoy 'cindi' wasn't created for me. It was simply brought out with higher definition. It's always been this way. I radiate with that sort of sexual attention and I suffer when I feel that the relationship has, in my eyes, dwindled down to a more vanilla style marriage. Even in a vanilla style marriage, he leads the way. I don't interfere, nor really ask at all about finances, because he doesn't want me to and I abide by that.

Even in a vanilla marriage I've learned to be calm, patient, to repeat what I say endlessly; to be respectful; kind, caring; giving; loving. I maintain my standards. He can be overbearing (he's really very dominant in that he wants things his way) and I use breathing techniques if I find myself too upset. If I need to approach him with my distress, I do so in a calm and considered way. I've learned a lot of communication techniques along the way.

Most of all, I give him the private and personal time he needs. I aim now never to complain about his screen and working time that can have him up until the middle of the night many nights in a row, leading him to wear himself out. I take my opportunities to remind him of good daily practices: exercise and sleep. I encourage him to keep his worrying to specified times.  I encourage him to walk with me; to have breakfast out with me; to go to the movies with me. I continue to suggest and he'll take me up on these ideas. I keep trying to forge a connection in any way I can without it impinging too much on my life. I'm  not good at sitting on the couch each evening, for example. I admit I'd rather do something else; read a book; satiate my BDSM desires by reading online.

There are times when he can thrill me. I'm not sure if these are times when he makes a big effort for me or if a moment has come when he has a desire himself to be darker. Either way, I get enormous benefit from these times. My love for him is deeper; stronger. My love of my life escalates and my spirits rise. They are the times when I write with positive spirit here in the journal. Know that any time I am happy here I have been roughly and rudely fucked.

The times in between those times can be very hard. I make every effort to live each moment with joy; to make the most of my days and to really live life. I can and always have taken great joy in a great many things and I was blessed with a sense of the ridiculous. I love to giggle and to be silly. But, I cannot deny that if I knew then, at 24 years old, what I know now I would need to take into my account my nature; the nature that persistently asks for a dominant man; the nature that asks in every bone of my being for a man to lead the way, not just in a financial sense or a father of the family sense, but in terms of a dominant man leading a submissive woman, in the bedroom and out.

The truth is that I want to feel the fucktoy at all times, whatever I am doing. I want demands made of me. I want to feel that dominant presence in my life; for the person who I know myself to be to be present; desired; relevant.

Here I am, almost wishing that age would eliminate my deep desires. But, I'm here to tell you that no matter how old you grow, they don't go away. They only increase in demand. And, here I am still loving the man I married 33 years ago; still trying to come to terms with the dilemma.

(Here's the link to the Brene Brown talk: http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html)

Herd mentality

If you are looking to get married and be married for a lifetime I strongly recommend marrying a partner who is interested in talking to you at depth. Engaging conversation is the mainstay of my marriage. It doesn't matter what topic he opens or I open, we can end up talking for hours and hours. You won't ever find us sitting opposite one another in a restaurant wondering what there is left to say.

This morning I opened up a conversation about a character. It's sad but I'm afraid it is what writer types do. He listened and then he made a 'spot on' remark.

"It's like a marble in a bowl. It will eventually come back to the centre."

"Exactly! This girl is White Anglo Saxon Protestant. She's a good time girl. She wasn't ever going to be able to take a lifetime of melancholia or sacrifice."

"It's not her."

"Yes. That's not her."

"Often, in the early twenties, a young person has to go and experience something else; to be sure who they are, they have to go and experience something wilder than themselves."

"Yes, she did that and realized that the wild side wasn't going to work for a lifetime. She needed safety, familiarity; comfort."

"Well, it's not safe to stray away from the herd. That's when you get eaten."

And, so it went. He expounded his theories about primal instincts, one of his pet topics and I told him that it seemed that more men were wanting to express submission than women, according to my research. That's when he expounded on his theories of there being a scale of femaleness and a scale of maleness and that I just happened to be to the far left of femaleness.

It's true. I am to the far left of centre on the scale of femaleness. I do believe in achievement in life. I believe in making a day count, whatever that means to the individual. However, I have the strongest urge to express my nature; the strongest desire to be aroused and to let my nature unfold; to relax into that state where I am fed upon; where I give of myself freely and where I receive the dominant energy that  allows me to be so unencumbered; so free.

This matters a great deal to me. Without expressing this nature of mine I feel restless and at times ambivalent. Expressing my submissive nature fills me with some sort of feel-good endorphins that allow me to enjoy all facets of life.

And yet, words whisper in my ear regularly enough to give me pause.

You must never tell. You must never tell a soul...

The doll must keep her council if she is to be safe; to express herself in ultimate safety. Trust for her is paramount. She must not stray too far from the herd.  She must always be protected and nurtured. This is the role of the dominant: to keep her safe; to protect her; to ally her fears and allow the doll to thrive.

50 things about me

Every now and again, one of the authors of a web journal will publish a '100 things about me'. I can't promise you 100 things but let's see if we can get to 50...

1. I am nuts for Chris Botti the trumpet player. I can't get enough of his latest CD.
2. I can become agitated if I feel I have been given too many things even though I love them.
3. I am in constant struggle with my desire for a piece of cake.
4. I really do need eight hours of sleep a day to function well.
5. I feel very guilty if I don't walk the dogs because I know they rely on me.
6. I adore to be in the house alone.
7. I write for my own pleasure and to not be allowed to write would be a harsh punishment.
8. If I care about you, if you touch my heart, I care about you forever.
9. I have collected all the cards my husband and children have written to me over the years.
10. If I can listen to music and cook a meal alone, that sends me into a blissful state.
11. Wearing pants seems wrong.
12. Sometimes, happiness just comes over me like a wave and for no apparent reason.
13. I'm always working towards minimalism in my house.
14. I love going to the movies, especially 'arthouse' movies.
15. I love to giggle. I love to be with funny people.
16. Bathtime is very precious to me. I like to write, think, chill out by the bath while the water draws.
17. I have a large scarf collection. I love collecting beautiful fabrics.
18. Being tied up tight is bliss.
19. I love to drive in the country on my own.
20. My acrylic nails are for life. They are a part of me now.
21. If a friendship fails, and that's very rare, it is hugely upsetting to me.
22. I am trying to teach myself to be a runner.
23. I probably do have a rebellious streak deep down.
24. I try to make everyone happy and settled so that I can do my own thing after that.
25. I love to travel, even if it is just to a different neighbourhood.
26. I'd adore to do up my house and make it beautiful.
27. Italy is my idea of heaven.
28. My Internet friends know me much better than my RL friends
29  If I'm feeling upset, I go iron a few shirts.
30. I do deals with myself. "Agree with him, no matter what he says..."
31  I've always been into pornography/erotica. My husband noticed it very early on.
32. I tend to talk a lot or hardly at all, depending on my fragility or otherwise.
33. I found the erotic zones of my body at about 4 years of age.
34. I bent over and imagined being spanked at about that time too.
35. When given loads of praise, there's nothing I can't attempt or do.
36. I like little adventures, getting away from the ordinary.
37. I have a temper that is rarely seen but can be ignited by a sense of abandonment.
38. Signing up for my writing course is one of the best decisions I ever made.
39. I'm eternally grateful I didn't take advice given to me to terminate my last pregnancy.
40. My children are my greatest achievement.
41. I'm very lucky to have married such a caring and devoted man.
42. I'm a discerning shopper on the lookout for a bargain and something beautiful or special.
43. I love open fires and verandas.
44. I have a Kindle but I still prefer to hold the book.
45. My indulgence is buying flowers every two weeks after my Friday yoga class.
46. I like to read the newspaper in a coffee shop rather than at home.
47. Progress on my house and garden is what turns me on.
48. Writing is a good profession/occupation for me because I tend towards introversion.
49. I love to visit churches and even stay for the service wherever I am.
50. Yoga and meditation have been a great blessing and calmed my emotions right down.

Gosh! How do you get to 100? Maybe one day, I can try writing 51-100.

Expressing feelings

I have just had a lovely little experience. We have been required to share our next writing assignment on the Discussion Board. That's fine if you choose to do a film review or a travel piece or whatever. If you choose to do something far more intimate that is rather daunting.

Discussion Boards are much like web journals because although you don't know me, and I don't know other bloggers, we do get the feeling that we know one another, in a way. That's part of the lovely experience of writing in a large forum like this.

There is a young man in our writing group who is clearly a vulnerable soul and although he hasn't responded to my work, I have been moved by his and responded to him. I wondered if it was the mother in me. I felt quite instinctively that he needed nurturing.

Anyway, he just put up a post about the fact that he is bi-sexual; that he wants to write about that; that he wants whatever he writes to move people. Since he's interested in blogging and has just recently got into that, I suggested he write this piece in the first person - to explain what it means to him to be a bi-sexual person - whether that is a choice, a preference or simply what it is. I offered to be a 'critical friend' and read for him, so we'll see how that goes.

He's a gentle soul. He wrote previously of his hurt the first time he was rejected by a friend and how that hurt still remains. He was making his first attempts to see how his behavior could have influenced the outcome of that situation, although he is still too young, I think, to realize that the whole dilemma had to do with his low self-esteem and probable confusion as to who he was.

In the heat of the moment, moments when I might get my knickers in a knot (who else is going to keep these divine old expressions alive if not me?) I can't see clearly my involvement in conflict. It happens very rarely, mind you. Occasionally, however, I respond badly to a situation not so much (or at all) because of what the other person said, but because of how those words made me feel. Perhaps, I felt rejected, or unloved, or uncared for; even unworthy. It's akin to stepping on an emotional land mine. Someone triggers a response from me when they land on my greatest vulnerabilities. And, who is capable of triggering a response? Those people closest to me, of course.

I am not especially eager to express my vulnerabilities and that can make a D/s relationship a challenge. I am reluctant to say, "I need you", "You just made me feel worried that you won't always be here for me." Or, "I'm worried that you will be angry so I'm not going to tell you what I really think." Even, "I miss you" or "I feel lonely" can be hard to say.

Something deep within my soul and my psyche says to protect against anyone knowing that I am a highly vulnerable person. So, what does one do instead? One uses bluster. One blames the other person for insensitivity. One goes and sits on a shelf and feels dejected; waits to be rescued.

I do so admire those people that keep it simple. Very few of us can do that. They go straight to the heart of the matter and make statements such as, "I feel hurt" "I feel sad" I feel angry" I tend not to do that. In fact, I don't think I do that at all. I did say recently, "I feel stupid" but that was after I didn't say "I feel confused" and created my own interpretation of what had been said to me.

It really doesn't matter why this happened. I could speak to the fact that I had to be mature and independent at too early an age and I developed poor habits of relying completely on myself and keeping my feelings to myself. So much of what I read convinces me more and more that as a society we are getting our priorities in a mess. Young children need to know that as children they are the top priority in caregivers minds. It is their time to be children; to be cared for, loved; allowed innocence; to express their feelings.

But, I don't want to spend time justifying why I go about things the way I do at times. The simple fact is that I need to stop and ask myself, 'What I am feeling?". This has been an area of focus in meditation group classes but I rarely manage to put it into daily practice. This is going to change.

What am I feeling? Do I feel anxious, guilty, proud, bored, upset; touched, moved, good? Do these feelings need to be a secret? It is much better if they are not. If I can express how I feel then the other person can do something about it; at the very least respond to it. Throw a grenade and they'll throw one right back...and double the size! Trust me. I know.

I feel better now

Good Enough

What is in the past is done.

There is no need to hide the scars from me.

I accept your pain. I embrace your sadness and sorrows.

They are a part of you and I love your vulnerability too.

None of us is perfect. No- one is complete,

until we share thoughts that we try to hide from ourselves.

You are not perfect and neither am I.

But, you are good enough.

You are my light, my love; my partner in life.

Allow my acceptance to balance you and protect you

from all “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.

Together we are safe. Together we are good enough.

Vulnerability and embarrassment

I went to my group meditation class today and I was happy to get there in amongst a very complicated schedule right now. I had made it to no ‘calming’ activities last week – not yoga or Pilates or meditation and not even much walking of the dogs. So, I felt good to be there in amongst the group. I had had a good morning and nothing was standing in my way of just “letting go” and enjoying this special hour of my week.

However, about half way through the meditation hour I began to feel unwell. I was wearing a plug and I thought it might have been about that but I used the techniques I know to talk myself through that. It wasn’t my decision (well it was but I have a good imagination and anyway, I still use techniques I have been taught) and I had to let go and accept. But, just when I thought I was getting on top of the wooziness I broke out into a sweat and I realized that I needed water. It was a very hot day, the door and windows were closed and the energy from the other people had created a still, lifeless source of air.

I tried to convince myself that I was all right. An acquaintance had recently told me of being stuck in a tunnel in rural China and feeling that he couldn’t breathe and his wife had needed to talk him through that distress. So, I reminded myself that I had enough air to breathe and tried to assure myself that I was okay. Yet, with low blood pressure I know what it is to faint and it was becoming apparent that my body was refusing to co-operate with these thoughts and I was about to keel over.

I opened my eyes and could see that the rest of the people in the room were intensely into their own thing. They had no idea of my panic and trouble and I just could not disturb the meditation. I thought of trying to race out of the room to get water but I doubted I could make it without fainting. Momentarily, I thought of lying down on the floor and lying on my side. It was exactly what I wanted to do, but I was well aware participants would ‘feel’ this movement and come to my aid.

Eventually, I moved out of the chair and sat on the floor with my back to the wall and although I was far from well, the air was a little cooler down there and over a few minutes I started to feel that I could make it through to the end of the hour. Once the teacher asked people to open their eyes, I said that I was going for water. Of course, Rebecca came after me worried as to my welfare but I assured her I was okay and I returned to the room to say my ‘goodbyes’.

On reflection, the muggy, sultry, cloudy weather we have been experiencing had put my body into a severe migraine overload which began on the weekend. On Sunday, my stress maxed out and unable to process the events around me, I did manage to save myself by heading off to a coffee shop and settling down my breathing. Alas, there was not much I could do about the dreadful pain in my head, neck and shoulders. It was not until today  that I had the good sense to put myself to bed this afternoon and later at the market, to buy myself a piece of almond nougat, and now, to drink a cup of coffee. Only migraine sufferers understand such techniques.

I have been thinking about this experience of the past few days. I went close to not being able to take care of myself and this made me feel intensely vulnerable. I was extremely embarrassed that I was unwell and extremely uncomfortable at the thought that I needed to ask for help. In fact, I could have been much more unwell – say, having a heart attack – and chances are high that I would have tried to fend for myself; to get myself home or to the hospital without seeking the help of another person.

 I think this experience plays into my whole attitude about asking for things – kinky things and any number of practical things. Being vulnerable is an emotion I fear at the same time as being a doll that is vulnerable to those that play with her, turns me on. I fear the emotion of vulnerability and I crave the emotion of vulnerability; am deeply aroused by having zero control.

I cannot explain this incongruity. I cannot explain why I try so very hard to manage so much on my own at the same time as I seek to ‘let go’ and have all control taken away. I was thrilled to discover the silence in following my breath all the way to the top and the bottom of my breath; to stop controlling my breath and letting my breathing do it all by itself. That moment occurred a few weeks ago in the very room where I felt so embarrassed and vulnerable today. That the attention of the group would be drawn towards me was something I definitely did not want. I have absolutely no desire to be the centre of attention at the same time as I crave the attention of the dominant – to be his sole focus.

It is something I don’t have a handle on. I just feel incredibly grateful to have stumbled across BDSM techniques and the opportunity to explore the side of my nature that processes humiliation and vulnerability so positively.

Childlike helplessness and vulnerability

I read these words, "childlike helplessness and vulnerability" and a wave of memories came flooding back to me. Discerning Dom was actually talking about stories with a spanking theme wherein the person was back at school getting spanked (or much worse) but for me the memories of my experiences with childlike helplessness and vulnerability were as cindi.

You really can't imagine how small I was within that persona and just how vulnerable I truly felt. You can't possibly know these things unless you experience them. There he was thousands of miles away from me and yet I felt completely helpless and totally at his mercy.

I play a very honest game or to use another phrase, I play a very straight bat. I don't pretend to follow orders if I don't follow them no matter how far away the Top. If I didn't do what I was meant to do, I told the truth.

Why did you do that, I can hear some of you say? Well, for one thing I wanted the most authentic experience I could possibly get. And for another thing, he was uncannily brilliant at detecting if I wasn't telling him the whole truth. But, most important of all, cindi is a doll. cindi just isn't capable of those girl type behaviours. In the head space of a doll, cindi knows what is expected of her and she knows that if she lies or disobeys, the axe will fall.

I don't have to search my mind for examples of when cindi felt vulnerable and helpless. They are front and centre in my mind. The first example that comes to mind is when the doll maker was upset with her for disobeying his instructions. She knew she was in trouble but she figured that he would eventually forgive and forget her mistake. But, time just didn't seem to be healing the wound and whilst she mustered the courage to one day say "hi hi" she was paralyzed in her efforts to say any more. He seemed confused and cindi typed in "cindi duzznt no if she lowd 2 sey netin mor". cindi waited for direction. cindi knew her place and cindi understood that she must impress, cajole, tantalize and most importantly obey mr. _. To disappoint him, to earn his ire, to be summarily lectured for her poor behaviour was terrifying in the extreme.

When cindi was in the good books she twirled her party dress like a little girl. She giggled and laughed and exhibited the abandon of a little girl in a candy shop. When she was in trouble she put her head down and listened to the lecture and said that she was very sorry and hoped that she was not sent away to think about her bad behaviour. Her happiness relied on him being proud of her, satisfied with her, entranced by her.

cindi was as helpless as a small child, vulnerable to the whims of her guardian. I would argue that cindi was considerably more vulnerable and helpless than a girl in a school with a headmaster that makes use of a cane. Headmasters tend to cane and move on and tomorrow is a new day, but to this day cindi could tell you of every time she disappointed and of every time she failed to impress. It was that terrifying to her and the wounds caused by her misbehaviours seemed to have a permanence about them.

Some days I look back and perhaps like you, wonder why cindi kept returning to a place where she was so helpless and so very vulnerable. The answer is simple. cindi had a childlike innocence, complete trust and faith and a reverance for her guardian. He understood her needs better than anyone ever could, looked out for her and kept her safe; had her best interests at heart. In that very safe place, with his guidance, direction and care she could come alive and thrive. It made her indescribably happy.