Thank you, everyone

I just wanted to thank everyone that left comments today or reached out through other mediums.

I fell into a really dark place last night and was mired in it for most of the day.  Through the support I felt and connections with you all it managed to lift up my heart.

It really means a lot to me.

Domestic Discipline as Therapy

I have memories of times like these when I was with F.  Because our contact and time we could spend together was limited we always did our best to make the most of it.  This at times was a bit tricky as extended solitude is often at the core of my demons. 

While I always wished for the best and was excited, looking forward to her next arrival there were some days where I was feeling a bit down and could not mentally prepare myself.  This was an emotional cluster-fuck as I was angry and disappointed in myself for not making the most of and appreciating the time.  I was angry and disappointed in myself for not being the best version of me for her.  I was angry and disappointed in myself for not being strong enough to keep the demons at bay.  This was good for no one.

F knew that I wanted the best for us.  She knew that it bothered me that I wasn't always in great mental condition.  After some extended discussion I made a request for her to punish me if I wasn't mentally prepared.  The night before our next meeting I would let her know my condition and if I was in bad shape, that would dictate the next day out of the gate.  This request puzzled her at first but I was able to explain that in my bad headspace I was not what I wanted to be, not what she wanted me to be, and that it made me feel doubly awful because I couldn't snap out of it when I wanted to.  Basically, I would end up feeling selfish because my own issues were "stronger" than my desires to love and serve her to the best of my abilities.

F would never shy away from reasons to hit me and this gave her an excuse on these days to unleash the sadist as soon as the door closed behind her.  After I would greet her with our rituals it was immediately over her lap where she would whup me to tears while scolding me for being selfish, ill-prepared, and failing to fulfill my promises to her.  This was usually followed by some time in the corner for "reflection on my poor attitude."  In its aftermath I was filled with remorse but earned forgiveness through penance.  My love for her was the focal point of my heart and I felt close and intimate on an extremely deep level.

While this might seem odd to those on the outside... it was very effective at bringing me to a better place.  It seems that the act supplied me with enough subspace-induced brain chemicals that it was able to over-power the chemical imbalances of my depression.  To this day it was the most effective kind of therapy I have ever had. 

I hate to show my struggles but sometimes they overwhelm

I would normally avoid posting when I'm in a mood like this as it is hard for me to put my present insecurity on display for the world to see.  I'm not one to cry out for help unless I've exhausted every potential avenue at my disposal.  From my experiences, giving off the impression of desperate or pathetic tends to act as repellent: it's not fun and people fear being dragged down by the drowning man.  Over the years I have trained myself to get by on very little.  I don't need reassurance... I just need someone there.  Their presence gives me proof that I am okay but their absence leaves me spiraling. 

The way I go about this is to show the opposite of what I'm feeling.  Be funny, charismatic, magnetic, energetic, excited, thoughtful, caring, attentive, and personable.  Show them what I can add to their life rather than drain from it.  Be amazing: the best version of me.

For most of my life this has worked out fairly well.  I attract others.  It is exhausting, but their presence soothes the pain on its own.  Connections are fulfilling.  I am okay.  Once things stabilize I am able to relax this part of myself. 

When it fails I collapse.  It completely drains me to remain in this state.  I turn the pain inward.  I wasn't enough. Blame myself, make an inward promise to try even harder next time.  Bask in the emptiness of rejection.

Two weeks ago T kicked the ground out from under me in a bad way.  It left me feeling despised... unloved... and isolated.  The place it left me in my head was utterly terrifying.  I shut down for a day and a half just to weather it out.  In its aftermath was when I began reaching out.

I do not approach people with weakness in hand.  I don't show up with the intent to take from them.  I approach and hope to contribute... to add to them... to impact their life in a positive way.  With blogs I scour and read and try to leave thoughtful comments and support.  I dig through forums and discussions, hoping to contribute and tapping into my experiences to help people and try to illuminate the path.  In chats I try to seek out those who easily get swept away.  The people who, like me, just want to be noticed and matter to someone.  I treat people like I want to be treated.  I give them the contact that I hope so dearly that others would give to me. 

When this fails I just want to scream.  I want to cry and smash things.  It makes my heart twist and ache.  I feel weak, pathetic, invisible, and rejected and I question what is wrong with me.  I can't understand what is wrong with me because this same course has granted success many times before.  Have I changed and I just can't tell how much?  Or has the world changed so much that I don't understand it anymore? 

Seeing as how the new people I reach out to do not even give me a response... I have no idea.  I just know that it hurts and I would not to subject others to this same set of feelings.

So, for the entire world to see as I sit here in a state of misery: I need a hug.

Inside of me

Inside of me resides a terrified little boy.  He is the truest version of how I feel and see the world.  He has been abused, neglected, and starved for attention and love.  The little boy is resilient, he keeps on going even when life hurts.

This boy is at the core of my submission.  He calls upon all of the talents at his disposal and launches himself without hesitation into the fray, hoping that she will notice... hoping that she will toss him a few crumbs of affection to feed his starving belly.  He learned long ago that nothing is free.  He diligently toils through his labors, brimming with pride.  The next scattering of crumbs remind him that not to expect what is not his to give or take. 

Always working, always pressing, always hoping that this will be enough.  "I'm good enough," he thinks.  The crumbs speak back to him, "good enough, FOR NOW."  No time to rest, never perfect, always room to improve.  He pushes and pushes, trudging along, one foot in front of the other.  Standing still is death.  Keep pressing.

He becomes twice as good to feel half as good.  The next batch of crumbs tell him, "you are barely acceptable."  Sometimes he cries, screams, and wails, flailing in the darkness, unsure of where to go.  When he tires, he picks a direction and off he goes. 

Her voice calls out to him in the darkness.  It guides him to her.  He approaches, timidly, awkward, but with lots of hope.  The touch of her hand makes him tremble and he nearly cries out of happiness that someone could see him.  She pulls him close and mesmerizes him with her words.  She becomes the focus of his heart. 

He listens intently as she lays down the rules.  He agrees to them one by one without hesitation, not noticing the predatory shift in her aura.  She closes her arms around him, marking him, and this fills his heart with joy.  It is enough to fill his belly.  She sends him off to toil for her and he goes all out, hoping to impress her and keep her affections.  She readies a handful of crumbs for his return. 

#10

I've typed and deleted nine posts tonight.  Nine.  Lots of things seem like a good idea at first but end up seeming stupid when I get them down on (virtual) paper.

I've been in a strange mood lately.  The past few posts I've been able to tap into the voice of my heart but today it feels blocked.  I'm overly sensitive right now.  My annual attempt to reach out through fetlife, chats, and newer blog authors was again a complete failure.  The barriers on my heart are choosing to interpret this with disappointment and frustration rather than turning them inwards and blaming myself... although this will inevitably happen in a few days.

I like to think that I'm someone worth knowing.  I can't do much about it if others don't feel the same way.

I will turn to my default reaction to these feelings:  cherish the hell out of what I have.
There are a half a dozen people or so in the online kinky web that mean the world to me.  Without you guys, I don't know where I'd be.  Probably stuck, lost, depressed, and gone from this medium. 

To everyone that leaves comments, emails me, and the like... you guys are amazing.  To ye, I dedicate a hammer dance.

Wordpress take 2

I ended up discontinuing my Wordpress mirror as I managed to make myself invisible there by marking my blog as mature without realizing what that would do.

I relaunched it a few days ago if anyone wants a more mobile-friendly way of reading that doesn't show all kinds of blinding pink.  I should note that I am not mirroring every post on Wordpress.  My whiny depression posts and anything to do with fur will likely be here only as I'm hoping a more mainstream scheme will keep people from running away screaming :P

https://fcsyblog.wordpress.com/

Being Vulnerable

I think one of best and worst things about being a submissive is the state of intense vulnerability that goes along with the territory.

At its beginnings, this is terrifying.  You allow someone else to see the absolute truth of who you are.  They delve into your psyche and discover your hopes, your dreams, you fears, and what makes you tick.  I think what frightens people the most about this is the power it yields.  If someone know these things, they can control, manipulate, and utterly dominate you. 


This is why trust is so important.  This is why love is so important.  This is not something to be taken lightly, the potential for damage is too great.

What some people cannot see is that with trust, vulnerability is absolutely beautiful.

How amazing is it that we can show the depth of our souls to someone else and have them accept us for who we truly are? 

To understand that all you have to do is think about how many times you've found yourself putting on a false face for the world, did things you didn't agree with, said things that you didn't want to, or hidden parts of yourself you didn't want others to see.  For many, the majority of their lives are spent this way.  The true self is buried deep within while going through the motions that are necessary to survive the world. 

It feels amazing.

On the other hand, being too vulnerable leaves us defenseless.  There are times and places where vulnerability is appropriate but it is not for general purpose use.  Having experienced the depths and strength of connection, I find myself craving to be able to be my true self.  It hurts when this isn't possible... the kind of hurt that lingers... the kind that breeds doubt... the kind that makes us afraid. 

At times it's like an addiction: bliss in its presence and agony in its absence. 

I trickle out these tidbits of self... and then remind myself why I shouldn't.

Learning Curves

When I hop back into the kink universe I end up encountering people of a wide variety of experience levels.  There will always be an influx of the new... the previous-new become the experienced, and the experienced become the veteran. This is true of just about every hobby, interest, or experience imaginable. 

It is strange when people as a whole lose sight of the frame of reference that they themselves have experienced.  This doesn't happen to everyone.  It happens "enough" for me to notice.

There are many people eager to learn... still on the early stages of the learning curve.  This is when things are incredibly exciting: so many avenues yet to be explored and potential all around us.  The mind absorbs like a sponge, thirsting for understanding of concepts and a constant ebb and flow of wondering what will end up appealing to both the mind and the body.

In these times it is important to exercise great care when communicating with these people.  Their minds are a sponge... and will soak up what it is fed.  This can be encouraging and positive, helping them sort through the wave of novelty in a way that steers them away from pitfalls and easily avoidable mistakes.  They can also be filled with toxic attitudes and out-of-context ideas that force them into corners... paths with a fixed end and no freedom to choose.

It is easy to throw caution away and say, "well what I say isn't intended for them."  If that is the case, then who are we actually writing to?  Who will benefit or gain from what we say?  I doubt that a submissive that has spent more time in the lifestyle and under more intense dynamics can gain much from what I have to say.  With that in mind, I am writing to those who have slates that are not completely filled in.  The people with blank spaces still trying to figure out who they are, what they want, and what they will enjoy. 

I will admit that there are times when I write just for me.  I can understand when people choose to target a specific audience.  There are times when I write with a purpose and wish to communicate or convey an idea or belief and in these times I try to make sure that I include something of the process and reasoning as to how I reached this end.  That way it can possibly help guide someone who is on the learning curve, showing them the path I have found from A to B and giving them more to go on than just "this is B and that's how it is." 

While there are a good number of people who write and share in this way I think it's important to keep this in the back of our minds.  Who we were last year is different from who we are now and we were all at some point, beginners.

Barriers

This past week has been a bit of a struggle internally.  I shouldn't really be surprised due to the events from two weekends ago but I'm now in a state where I wish to write... yet unable to write about the things that I want to.

I can feel the barrier up around my emotions as I sift through them and try to heal.  I hate this feeling but understand what is going on. 

My writing will probably be all over the place for the next week or so but I hope to keep on writing and work through it.

Musings in my head

There was a time in my life when I was sure of myself.  I wasn't happy, but I stood by my beliefs with conviction and had evidence to support them.  I felt like I understood many things... and my place among them.  It was very easy to "be strong and do the right thing" because everything was laid out in a neatly defined system.

Lately I have found myself wondering a lot more.  I no longer feel like I have anything figured out.  The concept of "right" is an idea... and it is a shifting mass that expands and contracts without ever taking a static form.  As such it is impossible to determine what is right... there is just the idea and how it pertains to any single moment.

I no longer feel strong or have a certainty behind my actions.  The more I come to understand myself the more I see how many of my choices are made out of weakness.  The old me would have chastised myself for behaving this way.  The current me sees a system that allows me to get by in the best way that I can, free from pride that may cloud my judgement.  I feel weak. 

The only truth I can grasp are the feelings in my heart.  What I might desire or long for... what allows me to exist from one moment to the next... in a wave of unstable emotional well-being the basic feelings remain the only constant within me. 

I need to love someone.  That is the only certainty which exists within this version of me.  When I scrape away the clouds surrounding my mind that is the only clear vision of truth. 

Romanticizing D/s

Some conversations with a friend recently have made me realize that I really have a tendency to romanticize D/s dynamics, concepts, and ideals.

I think a lot of this is rooted in my psychological damage.  I am firmly convinced that I have to earn every bit of love and affection I might ever receive.  Perfection and excellence keep me "worthy" of being kept around.  Only dedication and supreme effort all the time give me any kind of emotional security.

I will admit that writing this out makes those things look rather twisted.  To be honest, those aren't conscious realizations that I ever experience.  Those are the result of analysis and the understanding I have come to about how I process my emotions.

I can openly admit that I am only truly happy when I love and I am loved.  As such, when I am lucky enough to be in love, all of those feelings are channeled into actions and my beliefs naturally shift to preserve that state.  Again, this is not a conscious process, as it is happening I just feel the constant driving need to make her happy.

Prioritizing her needs comes naturally because I want her to be happy.
Nothing that she wants can ever be unfair or unreasonable.  If I feel that way I am undeserving of her love.
Any corrective measures applied towards me are signs of love and help me preserve my place in her life and I love her for helping me.
I should happily accept because is what she desires.
I should not expect from her if she does not freely offer it, as that violates the spirit of my devotion.

My mind has a way of coping and creating answers to any question that might otherwise disturb the peace. 

On some levels these might seem stupid and potentially dangerous.  I agree with both of those assessments.  They are the means of coping I developed at a young age to deal with a broken situation and I still seem to lean on them to this day. 

A positive it is that the women I have been in love with have never questioned the depth of my love, the strength of my devotion, or the truth behind my desires.  Another would be that within the darkness I learned to love with all of my being and accept her desires as if they were my own.

While I may at times feel battered and broken, I accept things as they are.

I feel old

A friend of mine invited me to a D/s chat group.  I'm a few years older than most in there but there seems to be a constant stream of young and clueless people that filter through.  As much as attempting to socialize in such a way fills me with dread and anxiety, I'm making an effort to bear with it.

I can't help but be amused/horrified at what people do in an attempt to "impress" a Domme.  Open with a cock shot.  Follow with an ab shot.  That's the ticket, right?

While I might be slightly jealous of their abs, I have to believe they would have better luck taking a photo of a post it with "I am funny, interesting, and have a good personality." written on it. 

I'd say "what's wrong with young people today?" but then I remember that this has been happening since I entered the kink community.  In any case, I can't help but feeling old.

What punishment is to me

It's kind of interesting that I've thought a lot about punishments today.

In addition to the blog I found I was also asked about this by a Domme friend earlier today.

I am not perfect.  I want to be perfect.  Perfect is not just accuracy of action, it is a state of being... a state of mind... an ideal that we chase even though it is impossible to ever reach it.  I have always been of the school of thought that if you put all of your effort into something impossible, you will be closer to it than if you didn't try at all.

Perfection is complete love, adoration, and obedience.  It is putting her desires to the forefront of my mind at all times.  I will fail.  I always do.  My best intentions are never enough to take me there. 

Perfection is the ideal attitude... always eager to please and happy simply for the chance to serve.  I comply not out of fear but because my perfect self is happy to be useful to her.  I will fail.  I always do.  It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but it will happen.  I guarantee it.

Perfection is the purity of my desire to see her happy.  The purity of placing her needs above mine.  The purity of graciously accepting what she gives to me and never desiring anything beyond that.  I will fail.  I always do.

Perfection is executing every act with total accuracy, mastery, proficiency, and speed.  It is only showing the best version of my capabilities.  It is doing every in just the right way every time.  I will fail.  I always do.

I am okay if she expects me to be perfect.  This means that she believes in my potential and has faith that I can be the best version of my ideal submissive.  That is the goal that I chase.  I feel if I reach it that I will have worth and be proud of myself.  I seek it because it will make her the most happy with me.  If I find it, I may even feel worthy of her love.

To me, punishment shows her faith in my potential.  It shows her willingness to be patient with my shortcomings and guide me to the right path.  She saves me from mediocrity and helps me improve myself in my constant quest for perfection. 


I am not a masochist.  I do not crave her disappointment.  I suffer when I let her down.  I suffer when I fail my expectations I have for myself.

I may never be perfect but I want to be.  Perfection is what she deserves.