My definition of Intimacy

Since our most recent holiday in the States I've been ruminating about intimacy and what a feeling of intimacy might really be like, and be about.

I have no idea how other people feel about intimacy but for me it isn't necessarily about being sexual. I have, in moments, experienced deep intimacy through sex. I remember them distinctly because they are not at all everyday experiences.

Don't get me wrong. Many sexual experiences are wonderful, and some are even liberating, but not necessarily intimate. That is to say, they don't raise me up to a dimension that is in the upper hemisphere of experiences.

If you were to ask me, well, which sexual experiences have raised you up to another dimension, my honest answer would be those where a deep, soulful need of mine was fulfilled, even if just for seconds. Those seconds stay in my mind, and can be recalled immediately at any time, on any day.

I could speak to you of the time I was bound and spanked well beyond my limits. That he did not stop as he saw me pulling and pushing at the ropes around my wrists and ankles made that for me, both in the moment and long after in my mind, one of the most intimate experiences of my life.

Such experiences fulfill needs for me over which I have no control. I could go without, of course. Doesn't someone imprisoned in  a situation go without? They don't necessarily wither and die when their needs are not fulfilled. Then again, they don't flourish either. The need for human intimacy, for love and fellowship, remains. The need to be known and understood sits there under the surface.

It was on this past holiday (vacation) that I realized that I also have a need of intimacy in a non-sexual way. It happened one other time for me, that that need was fulfilled, and maybe that time sat in my deep memory banks willing me forward. I am not sure.

It was quite simple really. My husband suggested a hike to a waterfall that would be a challenge for me since I was suffering a bit of altitude sickness and my fitness isn't at his fitness level. I immediately agreed to the challenge and the next morning we set off.

It wasn't long into the hike that I realized this was a significant challenge. It was one of those hikes where you walk upwards, turn a corner and find you have to walk up an even steeper rocky path. Multiple this hundreds of times and you might see why at a particular moment, maybe half an hour from the waterfall, I found myself wording, 'I don't know what to say'.

My husband assured me we didn't need to keep going, that we could turn around and go back. But, once I had taken several breaths the thought of failing, of giving up, became a repugnant thought to me. I do wonder, if in that moment, I was chasing a feeling of intimacy that I hoped might ensue if I finished the hike. I had no way of knowing how I would feel at journey's end but I just knew I had to find out.

When I caught site of the waterfall, all I felt was relief. I just didn't know where to put myself. I suspect he had the same thought and he had me follow him closer to the waterfall. With a final burst of effort I climbed up a rock with him, very close now to the waterfall; so close that we had the spray of the waterfall on our faces.

Finally, I had arrived. I could sit and soak it in. I was very quiet. I watched the water thundering down the rocks, listened to it, and I felt cool, but warm inside. I felt so happy to be here and to be having this experience.

'Turn around,' my husband whispered. 'Look back at the town. You walked all this way.'

If you looked way back, as far as the eye could see, in the very far distance was a square of green , in the center of my vision. On either side were majestic, rugged rock and tall trees. And, then I turned around again, to see the cool water at the other end. I was sitting in what I think is referred to as a 'box canyon', but at that moment, and maybe any moment, the canyon could be quite simply referred to as 'Paradise'. It was so beautiful, so pristine; so wild.

That's when it happened. I reached for my husband, hugged him, climbed up behind him so that my legs were around, and I hugged him tight around the waist. My heart pulsated with eternal feelings of love for him, always there but not always available to me.  He hugged me back. I could feel his sense of love for me coming back at me, into me. In these moments, we were 'one'.

There are simply no words to explain the welling of emotion in my being in those moments, perhaps like bubbles that rise up in a champagne bottle when uncorked. I overflowed with gratitude for the experience, for being alive on this day in a canyon in Colorado, far away from civilization.

What I loved about the whole experience was his tenderness towards me to make this possible. He knew, without me saying a word, that I wanted to make the distance. He knew it would be hard, but he facilitated this for me. When I needed to stop, he stopped. When I needed water, he got out the water bottle. When I needed to voice my doubts, just that once, he offered to go back, but more out of the fact that he knew that's all I needed, to say it, and then buckle down.

He praised me. He held my hand. And, sometimes, when I said that I felt more motivated when he walked ahead of me, he did that. He was patient. He was kind. He facilitated my success.

When I think about moments of intimacy in a power exchange, a BDSM situation, it's just the same. Well, not quite the same. If you suggested to me that the spanking or some other sensation could stop, I'd be too bamboozled by that. Maybe not. It might be the same, ensure I buckle down for the ride. I do so hate being giving options in such moments. But, you know what I mean; it's the same approach, facilitating success, by whatever means, tapping into my need to succeed, to stay the course. That's incredibly intimate to me.

Anxiety

Life has been very good to me lately which is why a burst of anxiety came as a bit of a surprise. I was particularly tired going to bed last night. Since returning from overseas I've been running around like the Everready Bunny and tiredness befell me hard. I slept for a little over four hours and then I was wide awake. Not just wide awake in the usual way, I was experiencing that feeling I get from time to time where it feels like something is under my skin agitating me.

I've noticed in times like this I have taken a rational outlook and look for reasons why I might be experiencing this physiological response. It is as if my mind won't accept it and so I need to find the reason why this is happening.

I did manage to get to sleep again finally but when I woke up the feeling of agitation was there again, even louder and more insistent that I pay attention to it. It makes me want to move and to move away from all human contact. It makes me want to seek out my own company, so that I can settle the anxious response down.

For the first time ever I googled this experience to learn what I already instinctively knew - this was a physical response to anxiety. In a way, this calmed me. I was assured that it didn't last, and that's right. It doesn't last too long, if you can just breathe through it.

Importantly, I have learned that these anxious moments, not necessarily resulting from any particular experience or emotion, simply come. There is no need for self-flagellation, or to involve anyone else, but simply to acknowledge that I am someone who experiences these unpleasant sensations from time to time. It's not a flaw of character, or even something that I need trouble myself about. It is simply my reality. Experiencing this sort of response to an unspecified anxiety is part of being me.

Just as my experience began without warning so too did it end mid morning of its own accord. I kept to myself for my own self care purposes but also to not involve anyone else in my distress. I went about my morning quietly, knowing that to do simple physical tasks calms the experience. I soothed myself by telling myself many times that I would be all right soon, that the crawling feeling under my skin, the dark mood, would soon lift, as it did.

People who are anxious don't ask for the anxiety, don't enjoy the anxiety and only make matters worse by being hard on themselves. I've made enormous inroads on my anxious disposition, enjoy a happy and full life and consider myself a fortunate person in all the important ways.

Still, the anxiety waltzes into my life without an invitation from time to time. It's unsettling and uncomfortable ,but it's my reality and I have no quarrel with it. As best I can I give it room. I've accepted it, happy to wave it goodbye rather than kicking it out the door.

Sensibilities, again

Every era has changes such that older people bemoan the behavior of younger folk around them. In many ways my generation is the first for a long time to see such fundamental change in the culture. It's hard to grasp when, and why, the rule book was flung out to sea, leaving people quite directionless.

I'm not talking about matters such as same sex marriage legislation, or multicultural societies. I think sensible older people, in the main, are fair enough about 'the other' to applaud such changes.

What I refer to is sensibilities. I loathe how so many people have no sense of occasion in how they dress now; how going to the theater, to the city or to the beach, seem to suggest to them to wear the same few pieces of apparel. Who ever decided that was okay?

If musicians can spend a bomb on their instruments, invest in expensive loans for multiple music degrees, and then devote hundreds of hours learning precisely a beautiful repertoire for our listening pleasure, isn't it fair for us, the public, to dress up a little and make a celebratory occasion of it?

My husband and I were walking along a street in New York City recently quite unaware that our Airbnb host had recognized us on the street. He told us this when he met us for the first time as we were leaving the apartment.

'Did we really stand out that much?' my husband asked him.

He just smiled and looked down.

Yep. We stood out that much.

I think the South American countries still have strong sensibilities, which is very much to my taste. Recently, one son's girlfriend's mother arrived from Brazil and she brought with her gifts not just for her daughter and my son but for me and my daughter, which was so thoughtful. She had chosen for me a beautiful turquoise beaded necklace and earrings. Naturally, I made an enormous fuss and thanked her profusely.

Her daughter translated her words for me. 'I picked them out as if I was buying them for myself.'

Of course, I then perused the stores to find her some perfect Australian gifts to take back to Brazil, because that's what people should do; reciprocate feelings of deep affection in an appropriate way.

It didn't stop there. She insisted on cooking us the most scrumptious seafood dish typical to her region of Brazil, and she was forever doing things for my son and her daughter - ironing shirts and so on. She wanted to play Mother. Of course she did.

I do feel Starbucks has a lot to answer for because that was probably about the time that we went along with the lie that it was okay to drink out of paper cups, and not any paper cup but the most insanely large paper cup possible. If you go to Europe, or Australia or Japan you'll still be served a cup of coffee as if it means something, probably your only cup of coffee for the day. It will be served in a cup with a saucer. Imagine that. It's not a beverage to keep you 'up' during a manic day of frantic activity but a little break in your day. That's why it was called 'morning tea' and 'afternoon tea'. It was, in fact, an important ritual of the day.

We visited some old friends in Connecticut. Granted, I insisted they not go to any big effort on our behalf. But, when the takeway pizza was served on a paper plate, I noticed. And, when the box of store bought cookies for dessert was plonked down in the middle of the table, no side plate to be seen, I noticed. I'm not being prissy here. These were good friends we hadn't seen in 22 years. I didn't require a 5 course dinner but I did think we needed to create some semblance of occasion.

My concern is where does it go from here? Is anything at all going to matter in 25 years time? Are we going to be happy to just melt into the crowd in jeans and sneakers? Will there be much regard for beauty and occasion and the special moments of life?

We all know that dining rooms and fancy dinner sets are a thing of the past but what of having a family meal together where people can leisurely discuss the affairs of the day? If kids don't get a chance to share their thoughts over a meal, then when?

I'm all for a more fluid society but I think we might be throwing out the baby with the bathwater. We do need some customs, and rituals. Dare I say it, I think we need to hold onto some expectations.

Writing less

I was remarking to someone last night who has kept reams of notes over her life, as have I, that there is less of a need for me to create words on the page.

It's an interesting phenomena since the written word has been how I have tried to make sense of things in the main.

For months now I have noticed that words wash over me, and that when particular words sparkle for me, capture my attention, I embody them. There is not the slightest need nor desire to write them down. The rest I can let go, like leaves blowing in the breeze.

To this end, this journal is less used now. I write far less in a nutting out kind of way.

I am hoping this opens the door to write, when the time and space is available, in a more creative and fiction oriented way. I had to let that go as I worked through things in my own mind.

Still, it's not over until the fat lady sings and who knows when I will feel an impulse to record something here.

Life certainly isn't always as I'd like it to be. Yet, my heart and my mind have developed this deep sense of compassion - not worry, but compassion - for others, including myself - that I find myself living in a very quiet space most of the time; calm, relatively relaxed.

For whatever I've gone through, so have we all gone through challenges in our own unique and personal way. It is the human condition.

And yet we rise. We rebuild. We heal. We are all amazing.

Having an opinion

In a synergistic relationship such as a power exchange, there can sometimes be a sense that when these two very different people come together they should  think alike. The fact is, however, that couples fight and usually they fight because they have differing views. This needs to be sorted out in some way for the sake of cohesion. Maybe there is compromise, or co-operation, or one defers to the other. Each relationship has its own formula.

I honestly don't see one sort of agreement or arrangement as being better than another. It's about what makes the people involved content and satisfies their personalities. I think  that a close relationship is designed to rub the rough edges off each other anyway; to investigate issues left over from the past and to make accommodations for the strengths and weaknesses of each person. With every challenge in life we learn something, so if we are not challenged much, the downside of that is that there is less chance of learning more about yourself or extending yourself. I don't mean this in terms of external achievements but rather getting closer to yourself and understanding yourself more. I see this as one of life's big undertakings. Content and settled people make an underestimated difference to this world.

Ideally, there is a certain meeting in the middle with relationships. It's unlikely to be a good thing to be too far to the left or the right in your desire for control or your desire to control. It's unlikely to be a good thing if you can't be  alone with yourself or find your own company satisfying. The love for yourself is what you share with the world so loving yourself is no small thing; absolutely vital.

No matter my kinky nature, that instinctive and natural tendency towards submission and service, even humiliation and shame in a scene, I've always, and I mean always, thought of myself as a separate entity in this world. I really don't need anyone to agree with me for agreement sake. I make up my own mind. Sometimes, I am wrong and I adjust my thinking accordingly. But, I never feel that my husband, my extended family, my friends or anyone else is obliged to agree with me on any matter, because they should. We're all unique, sometimes deeply challenging souls.

I'm not sure it's such a great thing to be too good. I've been good, loyal, faithful and I am happy I am that way, because those things matter to me at the soul level, but every now and then something rises up and I want to shake things up a bit. It's not a good thing, in my opinion, to give someone heaps of control and let them run with it for long stretches without reminding them  that being good, the person they want me to be, isn't always how I am.

I get triggered by things said. I get annoyed. I get frustrated. I can be diplomatic, and go away and process my anger/frustration/annoyance, because I am darn good at that now. Yet, the spirit demands to have the odd conversation where one might say something that provokes, for sure, but is also my truth in the moment.

When you provoke someone who wants control and control over you too, they tend to provoke you back. Funny that! Well, that's just the way it has to be in the odd moment. There is flesh and blood you're dealing with here. There's passion. I'm no wind up doll.

In that space of being a toy, a doll, what have you, there's a chance to empty the mind, which is one of the main reasons I like that space so much. The other reason is just simply that I don't know why I like that space so much. I just do. By and large, there's no reason to think. Someone else is doing that for you, and so these little rebellious moments aren't a shift in psyche at all. I am, in my own way almost saying, 'Just watch it. I'm no pushover.' which is a point my husband has made before, that after an intense scene it can be a dangerous time.

That's a good thing, probably, protecting you both from taking yourselves too seriously. I don't know why I sometimes rock the boat, honestly. It just happens, probably little grudges that I've held onto and in the moment I am triggered again by that unpleasant feeling. You'd have to hone down deeper than I am willing to do right now; no time for that.

I was accused recently of being "uppity" which really got my goat. But, I am wondering now if that might have some little thing to do with  my rather new very close relationship with myself, which may possibly feel alienating in some way. Here's the goal and the outcome: I can easily just be. Not particularly invested in anyone's opinions or ways, nor in expressing my own, there is much more space to hone down to my essence, my soul, or whatever word you can find that defines that part of me that came into the world in the form of a body but that is not my body and certainly not my mind.

It's hard to talk about but I can close my eyes now, in a train or sitting at my desk, or laying in my bed and get in touch with that essence with which I came into the world such that when I open my eyes I say, 'Ah, yes, this is life on Earth. What will the next minutes bring me in way of an experience?' This keeps me interested, enchanted, quite fascinated with life.

Do I worry about this life ending? Of course, I do. I have loved ones here that I'd miss and who would miss me. Endings are not for sissies. Still, I am less troubled by the thought of death, more confident that those I love will find their own way. It's a form of letting go.

I am a little discouraged when I see people so invested in demanding that their views are the right views. Certainly, some information is better than others. Even if you look at something like the value of soy products, there is so much information on both sides, and it's hard for the consumer to get to the truth of the matter. The truth of such matters counts. But, again, one has to quietly make up one's own mind, unless you are someone touting the value of soy products, or on the other side, and then you have a important responsibility to offer the best science out there.

Perhaps this is why I am not inclined to say 'I agree with you', as so many people want you to do, as if my opinion should matter to them, in some way affect how they feel. I am quiet because I am processing. Does that make sense to me? Is that right? I have my own opinions to be sure, and am sometimes gullible, too willing to listen to anything before I discard it probably, but this seems the right thing to do, for me.

Unfortunately, some people are very invested in their partners thinking just how they think, agreeing with them openly and often. But, marriage or even a power exchange relationship should not demand that people think alike. I tend to skate around this. I tend to hold my own counsel even in the midst of nodding or listening quietly. Mostly quiet and self-contained, I can defer most of the time, but remain my own person. There's no changing that.

Disciplinary thoughts

Some people in the know feel that kinks can be best understood by examining the day dreams one has when in the midst of private arousal. Of course, my day dreams relate to a very clear dynamic where I don't have much control at all. In fact, in the day dreams any sort of negotiation isn't available, whereas in real life, I aim to negotiate when things aren't how I'd like them to be. That's the big difference between my fantasy and my reality. If I was told to have my nails cut in a stiletto style, I'd do just about anything to get out of that, but in the fantasy, well, it would just happen; be supervised. Boom! I'd have what I think of as evil claws. In my fantasy I might even like them, though I am doubtful of that.

That said, I do enjoy situations in real life where it's like my fantasies. As one would expect, I don't necessarily like everything that happens in those situations and yet it unfailingly arouses me at the same time. That's the push/pull that gets submissives hooked, I think. Maybe it's fun to have to do something you don't want to do, but not always. What it is is satisfying to know that the Other is serious about getting his way, at least for this experience and for other experiences in the future. There's a sense of comfort in that sort of mental bondage that is as snuggly as being under a woolen blanket in from of an open fire on a dark and freezing winter night.

In the fantasies, discipline is a major part of the scenario, because, well, because that gets me off. Obviously, I am going to conjure the situation that does it for me. In real life, I'm less interested in being disciplined, except to say that when that has happened I am even more horny than I am in my private fantasy. I hate it and yet I love it, which is quite a dilemma, not just for me but for many submissive types, I would imagine.

To give an example, in the fantasies it is often the case that I am sent by someone who is my superior to someone who is even more superior to him or her. There's a waiting time. It might be a minute or two or it might be an  hour or more. This time is a time of reflection and self recrimination. 'If only' time, I call it. If only I had held my tongue. If only I had done it the way I was supposed to do it.

Also, it's a time for those above me to really drive the message home with plenty of humiliation, making me feel like a naughty child. So, I'm often sent to a wall with my nose pushed into it. I'm often told to raise my dress to keep ever present in my mind the attention my ass is almost certainly going to receive. They like, I feel sure, for me to fuss about what instrument will be used and for how long I'll be beaten. I oblige.

There's no 'it hurts me more than it hurts you' speech when I am finally called in. It's about the necessity of the exercise to impress on my mind that what I did I must never do again. It's all about that, with lots of emphasis on statements such as 'a girl must do as she is told'.

In real life, this sort of scene would be terribly taxing. Imagine holding one's nose to the wall for an hour imagining what comes next. And, imagine the speech and then the sentence, and settling oneself into position for a beating that absolutely will impress on the mind that a girl should never get herself into such a situation again.

And, yet, a mind blowingly orgasmic experience too! I think what I like about it best is that it would be a most rare scene. But, it happened once, and hence it could happen again. One takes that thought and makes jam out of it for months and months. It's an incredibly delicious thought that reminds one there is a power exchange in play, which for certain people is as good as it gets.

I'm not even sure I should write about what really goes on in this mind of mine because it is intense, deep, ongoing and all pervasive. One only has to say certain things in a certain way, make certain moves, be committed to taking control, and my mind is right there, so much that I feel a need to hide to what extent it is really going on under my skin and between my legs. It's something one feels obliged to keep under wraps out of fear; fearful of getting what one wants.

I don't know. I've held this side of me in for so long, it has oozed out of its own accord. This girl is on fire. (I think I stole that line from  a song...)

Looking at what is

Over the past several years, bit by bit, I've come to understand myself and how I got to here. I've acknowledged and accepted that I was either born with an anxious and sensitive disposition, or my upbringing led me to be that way. Maybe it was a bit of both since both my parents were anxious and so it makes sense I inherited that anxiety to some degree.

I've acknowledged and accepted as well that I am attracted to men, and have always been attracted to men, who offer at least some degree of positive energy; where I can hover down under their wing. That space feels right.

Another way of saying the above is that I am an empath and as such there are some pitfalls as well as strengths of which to be aware. So, I am happy to look after the other, to be led by the other (so long as it isn't onto a landmine) and for the other to, generally speaking, have his way.

I've listened to lot of complaining in my life, to the other's story. I've cajoled, or stayed silent, or agreed, for the benefit of the other, and for peace. I've put my own needs second, or third, or fourth...

I've discovered that there are stages that an empath might go through, the first one being a fight or flight stage where the body is pumping out adrenaline. Over time he or she might wander into a so called 'resistance' stage, a chronic stage where the body is producing more cortisol than it should. From there, an empath can find herself or himself in a 'burnout' stage where the empathic skills are in a state of hibernation as the person rests mind and body.

As far as I can tell I must have been doing something right, because people whose body and mind has endured what I have tend to end up with chronic inflammatory conditions like fibromyalgia. I don't have any serious conditions like that.

I have been aware at times however that my body is in trouble. I realized at a few different junctures in my life that cardio work isn't right for the empath whose nervous system is in disarray. Many years ago I was doing a step class when I realized that if I continued I might implode. With great reluctance, I left the class. In more recent times, I found it was not possible to take my agitated nervous system out, even for a walk.

This is what led to my interest in Meditation, Yoga, Pilates, Tai Chi and QiGong. All of these types of activities calmed my nervous system. Instinctively, I knew this was right. And, once I knew how to settle my nervous system I could add in walking and a mixture of walking/jogging. All walks are now most pleasurable and I can snuff off worry at these times.

In the same way, time alone, time in the garden, time ironing and listening to music at the same time, time cooking alone in the kitchen settle me.

I love sexual situations where I can be the doll, but something about the learning of myself has meant that I need the other to keep a close eye on my pleasure or positive spirit in that mode. In the same way that I experienced burnout being the empath who endures for the other, so being in situations where I am not really enjoying or getting off on the sexual situation can be quite destructive to my state of mind.

I recognize in this burnt out phase a degree of selfishness. I think, in a sense, that's growth on my part. In my own way, probably not in the best way, but in the way I know, I am standing up for my right to (gosh, how to put this) have a calm and settled nervous system.

I have learned that an empath whose nervous system is upset can be supported with various measures. I am finding relatively high doses of magnesium and zinc to be helping. I try to sleep consistently well but don't always manage it. It's important to support good sleeping patterns with a calm nightly routine, magnesium taken before bed, perhaps a meditation immediately before, or whilst in bed.

I drink a cup of coffee a day but I think I do better when I avoid coffee. Really good food also supports my system. The idea is to have some protein with each meal and personally I find that carbohydrates, sugar and most dairy is best avoided. The exception to this rule is a small amount of natural yoghurt. Cheese, which I love, is an occasional treat.

If one is born, or develops early in life, an anxious and worrying disposition, then that's what it is. This is one of the challenges of being born that person. Once this is a conscious understanding, the 'isness' of this state, then you can decide what you want to do about it; what can be done about it.

The complicating factor, of course, is that in relationship to a more narcissistic character, that being his or her challenge that developed early in life, there is going to be agitation.  This is inevitable. The nervous system is going to be challenged, for both of you, but in different ways.

Certainly, I have discovered many strategies to counter this assault to the nervous system, but I am definitely yet to perfect all of them. I stop participating in discussions that are circulatory in nature, or that begin to morph into something lacking value, or that could considerably upset me unnecessarily. When I feel frustration brewing inside me, a stealing of my energies, I find refuge in another place. I excuse myself.

But, it is very hard to alter these life long tolerances for the other. The other is so used to stealing one's energy, so used to having an audience, so used to getting the agreement of the other, doing what suits the other. It's almost akin to Jane Fonda announcing to Ted Turner that she was a born again Christian. It must feel like a sort of abandonment. 'What do you mean you are looking after your nervous system?'

As recovery of the nervous system takes place, there's the opportunity to live, and play, in a new way. Some things can't change. I can't suddenly be a leader. I can't suddenly stop my kinky thoughts or getting pleasure in particular ways. But, I do think it is possible that I can say, even if just to myself, 'there's only so much I can tolerate without the situation becoming unhealthy for me. I know my limitations as an empath, as a person with a delicate nervous system'.

By all means let's engage with a transfer of energy, but let's play fair, both of us. See me for who I am, for a situation over which I have only so much control. Take that into account. Give me the release of pleasure by watching my responses closely and seeing what turns me on, and what does not. Being me, it doesn't always feel safe to share that in words. Being you, words that hint at criticism make you defensive.

What needs to be avoided is that I feel too often that I must protect myself from toxicity. To this end, the other must know himself well too, the situation over which he has only so much control, I understand, but a consciousness of his less fine quirks is required. Two flawed people, consciously aware, can make a perfectly fine union, assuming they both work hard to achieve it. It's about waking up to what is.