Suffering

While on my flight to Japan, I started blogging...

Here's what came out. 

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Suffering

It's been a week and I feel like I'm still processing DO. Thanks to everyone who's been around while I processed. 

The main thing that's come out of it all for me is the idea of suffering. 

I had an amazing scene. It was great. I was happy. I felt used in a good way. 

But I still felt open. 

Ever get your hair done or blow dry your hair??

These days they always say to finish with cold water/air. See, the warm water/air opens up the follicles on your hair. The cold helps close the cuticle, sealing in whatever you've done. 

I came back to my hotel room post scene and I felt like that open cuticle. I'd had my scene/treatment, but I was still open. 

And I didn't know how to close it. 

I stumbled around in a haze. I ended up at cigars boots and chocolate searching for something. A dear friend offered me a puff on his cigar. I mistook the gesture as him wanting to ash on me. I said I was on the edge of a really submissive head space and him ashing on my would probably drop me pretty hard. He said he was down for that and that he had canes. 

A little ash, a trip to retrieve a toy bag, and down to the dungeon we go. 

At first I couldn't get comfortable. I was flat on a table and just nothing was right. Then I tried standing and laying the top half of my body on the table. It let me get more physical contact and I thought that's what I was missing. 

But something was still not right. Nothing I could do would make it right. And then the tears came. Not the pretty crying, mind you. I'm talking about full on sobs/not able to communicate. 

But the joy of playing with a dear old friend was that he held me till I was done, packed up our stuff, and took my outside for a couple of drags off his cigarette. 

It was outside the holiday inn that cool night that it finally came to me: suffering. 

I'm a masochist. I like pain. It gets me hot. 

But that's just for fun. 

What really seems to fulfill me is suffering. Not in general, but for someone. 

And it just clicked. I want to take more pain than I enjoy cause it makes someone else happy. I like being on orgasm restriction because I'm suffering for someone else's pleasure. 

And on Sunday afternoon, I didn't feel as if I'd suffered enough. I'd built it up in my head and I was prepared to lay and be flayed open physically, mentally, or emotionally for his pleasure. 

And that's one of the issues I see sometimes with distance/online. I talk a big game and the text covers atoms were hot and heavy. But in hindsight, the scene we had was just the scene we needed to have. We were feeling each other out, re-learning how we fit together. It wasn't a first scene, it wasn't an 100th scene, it was someplace in the middle, where it belonged. 

So now what?

I took a class with Miss Amy from Seattle on teaching from below, ie communication. One of the things she said was that we have to be with our partners where they are that day, and that that can change day to day. I've been realizing that I need to treat myself the same way. This realization around suffering was kind of huge. Over the course of the weekend, I took many layers off and when I went to put the, back on, I'd lost the one that hid that concept from me. 

So I'm really not the same person I was before. 

And it'll take time to figure out this new me. 

Toys...

Don't know how much of this is going to end up in the TMI/female anatomy range... so you've got your warning now...

So I own one dildo... I used to have a 2nd till it started to degrade, but the one I have still is the very first dildo I ever bought.

Well I didn't buy it.  My best friend bought it for me for my 21st christmas.  We were shopping in the strip club district in Baltimore after getting my first tattoo and she declared that I needed one.  In to the store we went, not as wide eyed as the average 21 year olds I hope, but still young.  We had characteristics (make sure it's got balls so you could put it in a strap on if needed), but none of them were really about how it would feel for me to use on me.

So we left with a 8" black, doc johnson, veiny dildo in a clear plastic bag (which we made her submissive carry around for the night).

9 years later, that's still pretty much the only insertable I have.  Well, I've got 3 butt plugs (including one with a fox tail), but just the one dildo.

I've got rope and clamps and at least 6 different things that vibrate.

But just the one dildo.

That I rarely if ever use.

And it's not like I'm not someone who gets off on penetration.  I squirt like a fire house from 2-4 fingers inside of me with not clitoral stimulation.

So why don't I ever masturbate that way?

Well with my own hands, my arms aren't the right length to really get a good fucking.  So tonight I got an order to insert something, and I figured, I'll go back to the good 'ol dildo that I've had longer than I've known most of the people reading this.

And it felt good... ok... sort of fine?

It's just not right.

And I think I realize this ever couple of years but I don't do anything about it.

It's too long.  It hits places that don't feel fun (at the level of stimulation I easily reach on my own... got someone's fist inside of me and my cervix is ready for a pounding).  I guess I was good so I got permission to cum... and as soon as the quasi/sort of orgasm faded, I was immediately sick to my stomach and nauseous.  That's probably not good.  It's hours later and I still feel a bit out of sorts.

So length... I need something shorter.

Girth?  I think it's ok.  I don't think it's too big.

Material.... I guess that's the hard (giggle) part.  It's not an actual hard penis.  It doesn't feel like a hard penis in my hand, my mouth, or my vagina.  It's too flexible in certain directions and to firm in others.  It's just a copy, a facsimile, of what I really want inside of me.

And maybe I'm holding it wrong... maybe I'm making it rub against the not fun/nausea causing places by grasping the balls of the dildo (turned upwards towards my clit).  Maybe that adds some sort of differential pressure on the dildo causing it to rub the wrong way.

And the orgasm... it was just.... it wasn't worth the hassle.  It felt good.  I was obviously rubbing at least part of the right spot with the dildo....

But then it was gone... there was no release no relaxation no completion...

It's like the undertow just ripped all of the energy out of the wave before it crashed on shore...

You could see that the water arrived on the shore... but there was no impact... no great force with the wave.

Followed shortly by the feeling sick and icky.

And add in some brain weasels that I should probably actually be blogging about but they're not ready to make themselves known.

So instead I talk about sex toys....

I should go shopping sometime soon.....

Analyzing Data

Oh yea.... I have a blog.

So I don't know the answer to this... but I've been working with my psychologist on the beginnings relationship stuff.

So I have some data... but I can't decide which theory explains the data.

Observations: I continually enter into secondary/non primary/play relationships.  I say that I would like to have a primary relationship.

Theory 1: I want a primary relationship but somehow don't believe that I deserve one, so I keep taking what I can get.

Theory 2: I don't really want a primary relationship but I haven't gotten over the societal programming that that's what I should want to do.

I'm pretty sure that the truth is some mix of theories 1 and 2....

If theory 1 is true, then I can see a lot of self esteem work to be done.  That's actually some stuff that I'm already working on.  I'm training for a half marathon but that's the end goal of my working out these days.  I'm running so I can finish the race, not so that I can change my body.  I think I'm going to start doing some more core work, not to be thinner, but to be able to do some more complicated bondage stuff.  Every day is a struggle (I know I'm not unique in this), but I feel like things are getting easier/better.

If theory 2 is true, then I need to re-examine what my end game of happiness is...

I went to two amazing classes today by Stefano and Shay on bottoming.  It's all still rolling around in my brain, but the first thing that really came out to me is how important that kink is to me...

I think about settling down with my 2.5 kids and my white picket fence... and how that's not complete without a collar and a secret basement dungeon.

It's almost like the collar and the basement dungeon are more important than the kids and the fence... or maybe even than the having someone all to myself...

I'm going to keep looking at the data I have.... but I assume there will be more posts on this topic as my brain figures out what it wants to do....

Being a Grown Up

Every year I go to DisneyWorld with my extended family.  We go for a week and ride rides and generally hang out.

I was working with my dad planning things and I realized that all of a sudden, I was a grown up.

No, it's not the first year I had to but an adult ticket instead of a kid ticket :-P

But I bought my own ticket and my own flight.

It's not the first year I've done that, but I don't really remember when it went from poor college/grad student who got everything paid for to grown up with a job who pays their own expenses...

I think part of the conundrum I was facing is that my life isn't what I thought being an adult looked like.  I was talking to my therapist about this last week.

You look up to your parents...  At 30 my parents had 2 kids and a mortgage.  They were adults.

At 30, I make good money, am single, and live in an apartment.

But for my generation, my peer group, my life is perfectly normal and grown up.

I had a play date on Sunday which on top of being awesome, really grounded me in not feeling unusual.  I think  hang out a lot with people who's lives look more like the ideal in my head.. settled down, house, etc.  It ends up making me feel like I'm so far behind.

But between Sunday's play date and some good time out with co-workers, I'm really seeing that I'm not unusual, that there's not something stunted about my development that's left me behind where I "should" be.

How big is your boat?

Today in therapy we were talking about loneliness...

And I kept coming back to feeling like I was adrift....

So we went with it and my therapist asked me to describe what I meant.

Out flowed a way more detailed image than I knew was inside of my head.

I'm not in a boat... I'm in an emergency raft.  There's no propulsion, but I won't get swamped.  There's no luxury food or anything really fun.

But I'll survive.

"Are you alone in your raft?" asked the doc.

I am... but other boats do keep passing by.  Sometimes you're riding the same wave; sometimes the waves push you apart.

It's like even when riding the same wave, I keep all of my stuff neatly organized inside my own raft.  Others see my raft and acknowledge its/my presence, but have no clue what goes on inside.

"Is everyone in a raft?" she inquired.

I imagine that people are on different types of boats.  Some share their boat with someone else, a partner, a lover, a family, etc.  Some are on big boats with propulsion while others still  drift in the currents like I seem to.

"Well do you ever try to call out for help?"

And then I realized that I'm scared I'll swamp someone else's boat.

It's like I can't tell how big someone's boat is.  It's like I'm scared to send up emergency flares because someone else in a raft might hurt/injury themselves trying to help or they're get there and I'll swamp their raft/boat with all of my crap....

So I sit in my raft making superficial connections when the waves push me against someone else... but I keep drifting off just me, alone, in my raft.

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It was pretty intense how quickly I unpacked this whole elaborate analogy of my life.

Feeding the Introvert

Sometimes blogging takes chocolate and tissues.

So I had therapy today like I do every Wednesday.  It's hard to do it in the middle of the day and go back to work, but that's what I do.

We're working these days on giving myself credit for things I do (like go to therapy every week) and permission to take care of myself.

Although I've learned a lot of extrovert skills, deep down I'm an introvert.  Large parties take a lot of energy.  We made a plan for me to try and attend a "party" on Sunday (yes Wonderland) and what I should do self care wise to make that more likely to happen.

We also talked about staying in to feed the introvert vs staying in 'cause the depression and/or anxiety is overwhelming and learning to figure out the difference in those two states and how to treat them.

So I do a lot of hard work for 45 minutes, drive back to work, pick up a piece of pizza, and sit back down at my desk.

We have a company wide meet at 4 which went well...

And then happy hour...

My cute little start up of 10 people is not 110 people.

They rented out half a resturant for our happy hour... which still left a standing room only space crowded with people...

Oh... and booze... lots of booze.

The new anti anxiety medicine means I can't drink.

Except for my birthday where I skipped me meds, I haven't been drinking since december....

And there weren't any non alcoholic drinks.

Pitchers of margaritas (two kinds), sangria, and ice buckets full of beer.

"Oh go to the other side of the place and just say you're with the group and order a soda," I was told.  I gathered one of the 3 other people I know at the company that don't drink and headed to the bar... where we waited for 10 minutes without being acknowledged.

So I give up and am making my rounds to head out.

"stay and have fun" says one co worker gesturing with their glass.

"Why are you leaving so early" says another trying to get me to stay.

Now I'm trying not to break down before i get to the door.

'cause I don't belong.

I don't have the reserves to deal with this many people and this much alcohol that I can't have without easy options.

I make it outside and go back to the (empty) office to make it look like i haven't been crying.

I make it to the car and drive home to call my mommy (which fixes everything).

Self improvement is damn hard.  How do people have time for it and a job and other commitments?

I just wish I didn't feel so broken.. that it didn't take so much effort just to function.

My therapist helps a huge deal.  She pointed out that as an introvert, sitting in an open office layout 50 hours a week is really draining... no wonder I don't want to do anything on the weekends and spend Friday night just trying to finally clear my head.

I wish I was sometimes still numb.. that I could playing along and hide in plain site and not feel a huge weight on my chest while I did it.

It's just getting so hard to feign interests any more... it takes so much effort...

And with everything else.. my reserves are shot.

A practicing submissive

So.......

I keep staring at a blank blog post.

This has been trying to come out of my brain for a while....

And yet I sit here staring at the blankness hoping something will start to trickle out.

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I don't feel submissive anymore.

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That was harder to get out than I thought it would be.

It started when the SF Service Salon group started last year.  Several people pointed it out to me as something that would be up my alley.

It totally, on paper, looked like something that would interest me... but I had this deep visceral dislike of the whole thing.

At the time I saw it as a fundamental difference in opinions in service and submission.  I don't get filled at all from service by itself.  What's filling (what was filling?) to me was the service and the symbiotic relationship with the individual.

It's like boot blacking.  Blacking at a stand is about providing a service... and you get tipped for that service.  I'm a jovial happy person, but not particularly submissive.

Doing Sir's (a hypothetical Sir of course since I don't have one) booth in the privacy of home is completely different.  It's a back and forth of energy between two people and the boots is just the medium for that exchange.

So fast forward months... add in two or three different medicine regimes and two differing diagnoses...

And I'm not feeling submissive at all.

It doesn't have any draw anymore.

Raunchy kinky sex sounds fun.

Beatings sound ok (not even that's drawing me in).

Basically rough sex with some hair pulling is all that seems interesting (again in theory 'cause, well, I suck at scheduling).

Well and then not rough, vanilla-ish sex sounds good too.

Everything else just seems.... fake?

No that's not the feeling....

shallow?

empty?

unfulfilling?

None of those are right but the right words doesn't want to come out (and forcing it just makes it burry down deeper in my sub conscious).

I also have some friends who gave up on kink.... and seem to be really happy.  They decided it wasn't worth it and gave the husband/kids track a try and seem to have more fulfilling lives (yea I know grass is greener but hey, this is my pity party so I'm allowed to admire that grass).

It's also just not been a great time to be kinky.  I've purposely stayed the fuck out of all of the drama on fetlife.  It just seems like... like power struggles and feelings of community... where no community exists.  I never ever went to an event and thought I wasn't 100% responsible for my person, that I wasn't the only person who would stick up for me, but that's just me.

It just makes me want to run away screaming from everything kinky and make do with my occasional (very occasional) fucks with kink-light boys.

But I'm not very submissive.... it feels like a role I played for a dozen or so years on a show that's been canceled...