In which I name New Person, and squee rather a lot ;-)

April 14, 2013 at 9:41 am (Uncategorized) (, , )

I’ve spent a while over the past few days, contemplating a good fantasy archetype to use as a pseudonym on here for New Person.

I wondered about the Herald – with his wonderful projecting acting voice, and his bringing light and change into my life.

I wondered about the Shape-Shifter – acknowledging his switchiness, and his skill as an actor.

But neither of those felt quite rightly about him.

And finally, “the Ranger” slipped into my brain. And, of course he’s the Ranger. He loves walking in the countryside. He is built like the ranger archetype – tall and thin and ruggedly beautiful. He loves to explore, and is passionately curious about so much of life despite his depression.

Part of that exploration involves things he and I would like to do with and to each other, and the thought of that is… intoxicating.

We saw each other yesterday for the first time since our little mini-date in a cafe, the day after I asked him out. So, for the first time in nearly four weeks.

Our first actual date is still another four weeks away! But we had a small house party and play-reading yesterday, to celebrate the Magician’s birthday, and obviously the Ranger was one of the guests.

We were reading through “Julius Caesar”. I was playing Brutus, the Ranger was playing Cassius, the Magician was playing Antony. All The Feels. 🙂

The Ranger and I were fairly coupled-up at various points. Everyone, very definitely including the Magician, regarded this as both entertaining and exceedingly endearing. 😉 And the Ranger now has firm approval from one of the Magician’s other partners, who was there – and they are someone who is not easy to please, and is very protective of me. They are a good judge of character, and, while they never said so to me, were always a bit dubious about the Warrior. Their obvious liking for the Ranger is unsurprising, but deeply pleasing and reassuring.

When around others, the Ranger and I were fairly chaste in our snuggling. We sat close to each other, sometimes in each other’s arms. And as time went on, found it more and more impossible to not touch each other. I remember him chatting to various people while stroking my back, and drifting off into a reverie.

And every so often we would sneak into the kitchen, and kiss, and hold each other, and caress each other fiercely through our clothes, and gaze into each other’s eyes (and generally be utterly unspeakable 😉 ), and the sheer overwhelming mutual want was both glorious and agonising. I’ve gone in the space of a few weeks from wondering if I would ever get my libido back, to, well, this. Absolutely burning for each other. It is wonderful. 🙂

We’re seeing each other again today. Again, mostly in company, but I suspect we will still find another couple of quiet moments to torture each other and ourselves so delightfully.

And then, we won’t see each other for nearly four weeks. Which will be another form of delightful torture – with the anticipation, the lovely chatting. The waiting, but also the enjoying being together apart. The celebrating each other’s lives in different cities.

And I should also note here, one of the things that makes me happiest. Chatting in the kitchen with the Magician, the Ranger and the Magician’s aforementioned other partner. Far, far more relaxed and mutually friendly and respectful than any group containing the Magician and the Warrior ever was.

I amused quite a few people yesterday by pointing out that I had upgraded my polycule. It was silly, and funny, but also quite true. The chosen extended family aspect of polyamoury is part of what I love about it. And I’m now in a position where my loves get on really well with each other, and where all three of my metamours are truly excellent people whom I adore, and who are friends of mine in their own right.

As I’ve said a few times on this blog, my life at the moment has a vast amount of stress attached, along with grief, anger, and all the rest.

The Magician’s deep, wondrous love and care for me, and the fierce joy of falling in love with the Ranger – and the happy satisfaction of knowing that they truly like and respect each other – are like these shining lights in the midst of it all. I have really rather a lot of genuine happiness to go with the sorrow and pain and anxiety. And eventually, hopefully in the next six months, the dust from the ending of my marriage will clear. We’ll have sorted out the money, the divorce will be through. I’ll be able to start getting on with the rest of my life. And I’ll still have the Magician and the Ranger, and many, many wonderful friends, to walk at least some of that path with me.

Yay. 🙂

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Don’t take away my “yes” [TW for sexual assault]

April 7, 2013 at 2:03 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Apparently, second wave feminist (and noted transphobe) Germaine Greer said this yesterday:

“Evidence of violent constraint is usually taken to be evidence of withholding consent, even after women have been softened up for sadistic interaction by having their brains beaten into Fifty Shades of Grey.”

I haven’t read the article that the quotation was taken from. In all honesty, I suspect it would make me feel so angry and triggered that it would sap my energy, and there are things I want to get done today. It is therefore quite possible that I am taking her remarks out of a context that would change the meaning somewhat.

But out of context and given Greer’s general known views, the implications of the quotation make me exceedingly cross, though in a reasonably energised and articulate way. It seems to me that she is implying, quite strongly, that consensual BDSM is not a real thing – and that only a woman who has been somehow corrupted by a badly-written book could believe that she has consented to it.

Firstly, the difference between consensual BDSM and Fifty Shades of Grey is… quite marked. Not that I’d expect Greer to understand the difference. But, fail.

Now, as readers will know, I am a survivor of rape, of child abuse, of sexual abuse within a relationship.

And on those rare but wonderful occasions when the Magician ties me up and scratches and spanks me, I am bloody well consenting. Enthusiastically. Happily. Freely. Intelligently. Not because my brain has been “softened up”, but because this is part of my sexuality, part of how my body and brain like to interact with a sexual partner. Because it makes me feel amazing. Because it turns me on.

Just as the possibility of New Person doing the same to me at some point turns me on. Just as the possibility of me doing the same thing to New Person also turns me on.

I have fought long and hard and bitterly for the right to my own body, my own sexual power, my own choices. For my right to a true and meaningful “yes” to a sexual activity that I like. For anyone to now say that my enthusiastic consent isn’t good enough – that they are the ones who will decide whether my consent is real or not… just… EWWW.

There is nothing good, or feminist, about undermining someone else’s “yes”. The idea that only a man can truly, fully consent to a sexual activity is part of the patriarchy. If you tell me that my “yes” is meaningless, then you are undermining my “no”. And, more crucially in my case, you are undermining my scared/exhausted/drunk, “oh all right then”, and saying that is no less consent than “OMG yay, please do that!”. And that, my friends, is rape culture. It is a whopping big part of the problem.

I’m not a believer in “all choices are feminist”. And the concept of the male Dom and the female Sub as the One True Way in BDSM is *incredibly* patriarchal and icky and disgusting, as well as ridiculous, and I have no truck with it (and hope I would have no truck if I were a male Dom or a female Sub – as a genderqueer switch, of course I know it’s bollocks!). But it is perfectly possible to have any of the orientations within BDSM and be a feminist, and oppose rape culture. Both of which Greer is singularly failing to do when saying things like the quotation above.

And also? This:

Tying me up and hurting me because we both passionately want you to = consenting.

Guilt-tripping, cajoling me and bullying me into tying you up and hurting you = not consenting.

This does not strike me as a complicated thing to grasp. 😉

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And now, the difficult stuff [TW for sexual assault, sexual abuse]

April 1, 2013 at 11:46 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

This being the blog in which I talk both about my kink/sex life and about being an abuse survivor?

There is something I’ve not talked about on here, but with my relationship with the Warrior over, it’s time.

The Warrior was not actually very nice to me.

For much of our relationship, he frequently guilt-tripped or otherwise pressured me into sex, and otherwise trampled on my boundaries. Even in the last 2-3 years of our marriage, I had to repeatedly ask and insist and argue until he would finally stop his habit of groping me and then not letting go when I said “no”, saying that he “liked fondling me” (so therefore my preferences about it were irrelevant? :-S ). And then there were other things – him getting in a mood with me when sex hurt me and I had to ask him to stop. And the time when he accidentally penetrated my anus rather than my vagina in the heat of the moment, and was furious with me when I was distressed about it and insisted that he wash before we resumed.

It was no wonder that even though he is a switch, in the latter years, as I started to recognise that I am allowed physical boundaries, I had no interest in submitting to him. I simply did not trust him at all. Dominating him still appealed, but I confess with some shame that my main motivation in wanting to tie his wrists was not lust, but to keep his hands from touching me in ways I did not want or like. It was, by the end, about the only way I could bear to be sexually or kinkily active with him. His submission started to pall, to feel false and even rather nauseating. He fawned on me, but he did not respect me – in the bedroom or out of it. He had me on a pedestal, but did not admire or truly love the fullness of the person that I am. And whenever I fell off that pedestal, he was harsh, patronising, even a little emotionally abusive. He supported me financially and (at least until the Magician came on the scene) was also my primary carer in my disability. Unfortunately he also believed this gave him an automatic moral high ground in our relationship, he resented my neediness and did not deal with that resentment. He treated me as though I were not an adult, not his equal. He was dismayed by my coming out as genderqueer, dismissive of my childhood experiences. The Magician put his finger on it absolutely when he said that even at his best, the Warrior mostly regarded me as a cross between a pet and a social secretary – and I never even noticed the damage that was doing.

Getting together with the Magician changed me, and in ways the Warrior did not like. The Magician’s love, and respect, and care for me made me value myself more. He gave me the courage to explore myself, and to learn to like what I saw. The dissonance between the way they each treated me was often confusing and even painful. Though it still did not really clue me in to how dysfunctional my marriage to the Warrior actually was.

I never consciously noticed it at the time, but while I loved the Warrior for the whole time we lived together, his treatment of me and my subconscious awareness of his own unhappiness in the relationship were a constant, dull, horrible pain and sorrow.

Realising that I was abused as a child was awful and overwhelming, but it also gave me an excuse to just back the hell away from my sexuality and kink-self, and so escape that part of my relationship with the Warrior entirely. The Magician is grey-A, only sporadically kinky and/or sexual himself. And even if that were not the case, he respects me utterly. His attitude was: whatever I needed, was no problem for him at all. But the Warrior hated it. Throughout that whole two years of processing the child abuse, he almost entirely failed to have my back. He saw it as just another example of my being too weird to deal with, and thoroughly resented the lack of sex.

And now? I’m free of him. And, you know, in many ways that freedom hurts! In a few months I will start living on my own for the first time in my life – and I have anxiety, depression, monophobia, agoraphobia and ME/CFS. It’s going to be a massive challenge, and I am afraid. Meanwhile, my living temporarily with the Magician has screwed up his disability benefits (basically because the DWP is run by sociopaths). I’ve gone from a comfortable middle class lifestyle to a poor one, and inevitably that was something of a shock.

So, there is fear. There is grief. There is hurt. And more fear because, you know, anxiety disorder.

But oh goodness, also a joy so fierce it’s sometimes unbearable. The relief of pressure from no longer desperately trying to please and love someone who did not respect me is more powerful than I can describe. And between that and the tremendous support I’ve had from the Magician and various close friends, my mental health is actually remarkably okay right now considering. I feel that with a tremendous weight lifted from me, I am gradually drifting upwards.

And then there has been the last three weeks! To have, suddenly, two partners who both truly respect and love and value the person I am is almost brain-breakingly wonderful. I’ve been actively poly for over 4 1/2 years, but I don’t think I ever truly understood what that meant until now.

And the idea of sex and kink is pleasing and appealing again – and actually, more wonderful than it has been at any time, because I am so much more healed from my childhood from all of the processing I’ve done over the last 2-3 years, as well as being without the Warrior. I don’t feel triggered or trapped or panicky at the idea of doing things, watching things, thinking about things. I’ve been cheerfully watching clips on Dreams of Spanking, and looking forward to when I can afford to get some paid content! I’m looking forward to having both the Magician and New Person take photos of me – neither are photographers at the semi-professional level of the Warrior, but they’re also both pretty good, and could do with the practise. 😉 Above all, I feel I can respect and love myself, as a person with a sexual appetite, as an obedient and hedonistic sub, as a caring and sadistic dom. As a powerful person, whichever form my kink is taking – and I am, at the least, much less scared of that than I have been in the past. As a beautiful genderqueer person, who is now free to explore the possibilities of life with a great deal more freedom and integrity than ever before.

None of which is to say that I’m healed entirely, from the child abuse, from being raped as a teenager, from what I am (with sorrow) coming to regard as a sexually and occasionally emotionally abusive relationship of thirteen years. I am not. But I am closer to it than I have ever been.

It was the Warrior’s decision to leave me for his other partner when she made him choose between us, and while it was mine to end the actual relationship, it was clear that he was only holding back from doing this himself due to lack of courage. The decision to divorce was taken jointly.

It is hard, right now, to feel very grateful to him or his other partner for anything! But I am really, really glad that he chose her over me. However devastating and terrifying many aspects of all this are, it is, I think, going to prove one of the best things that has ever happened to me. 🙂

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April 1, 2013 at 10:49 am (Uncategorized) (, , )

I do not actually brat. Honest.

But a couple of days ago, I was giving some (entirely non-kinky) skincare attention to the Magician. I was careful, but it was the kind of thing that does inevitably hurt. He winced and whinged a bit.

I might have made a teasing reference to doms being fragile. I might have mentioned us switches and subs as being all tough and resilient in comparison.

Naturally, he tested this theory by giving me a gloriously hard single hand-spank to my bottom. 🙂

I think I proved my case by my vocal appreciation, and then demanding another one because the first (delivered at an awkward angle) was slightly off-centre. I don’t like being asymmetrical. 😉


Nope, not a brat. I will admit, however, to being, in my polygendered way, something of a wench. And when it gets me such a good result, can you blame me? 🙂

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In which I am really rather happy, in a wistful sort of way :-)

March 29, 2013 at 1:53 pm (Uncategorized) (, )

Looks like I may well need a pseudonym for New Person on here before too long. 😉 We’re still weeks away from our first date, and won’t see each other at all for over a fortnight but, hey. Long distance relationship between busy people.

It’s wonderful, the way in which longing for someone can itself be a sort of happiness. And while I’m a lot less over-excited than I was (fortunately, because honestly my adrenal system wasn’t coping that well!), it’s calming down to a deep level of joy.  I’m still all in a flutter every time I hear from him, and relishing the intoxication of shared fantasies – and fondness. We’ve been friends for so many years, and the care for each other makes everything far sexier, as well as feeling blessedly safe.

It’s all so, so wonderful in itself, and an absolute affirmation that there is Life After The Warrior. 😉


And meanwhile, the Magician continues marvellous. And while his kink energies are still very low, there have been a few delicious moments, where he’s just taken a few seconds to bite my neck and run a nail slow and hard across my lower back, giving me an endorphin rush and a wicked smile. 🙂


At some point I may need to make a post about some of the darker stuff I’ve been processing. But just now, all about the joy. I feel very, very lucky and blessed. 🙂

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A new beginning

March 22, 2013 at 3:41 pm (Uncategorized)

The past year has been one of the most distressing, weird, stressful and yet, bizarrely, hopeful of my life.

My beloved cat died. I became very ill. And my marriage to the Warrior has broken down entirely – we are getting divorced, no longer in a relationship. And while we are still amicable, I am left feeling deeply hurt and rather angry by many aspects both of our lives together, and of what has happened since.

I am living temporarily with the Magician, who has been a glorious, wonderful tower of strength throughout all of this.

Since ceasing to live with the Warrior, I was amazed by how much better I started to feel, even through all the stress and confusion and grief. And I began to feel some stirrings of my kink and sexual energy finally coming to life again.

And now, there seems to be a long-distance thing starting with someone new, and beautiful, and lovely. Not sure where things may end up leading, and it’ll be a while before our first date even. But I’m excited and intrigued and fizzy and happy. 🙂 And my kink and sexual energies are suddenly higher than I can ever remember them.

(I may need to give him a pseudonym on here after a while, with his permission, but we shall see…)

I’m still in shock from the end of my marriage, still reeling, raw, grieving, ill. But also, relishing a new sense of freedom, and a growing feeling of… integrity. Rightness. Of realising all the ways in which being with the Warrior restricted me, and prevented me from being myself. Some of which was his fault, some of which was mine, some of which was just a simple lack of compatibility that was the fault of neither of us.

In the end, I think it’s all going to be very much for the best.

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Snapshots from a very good night

October 19, 2011 at 2:24 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

The Magician and I had coinciding kink energies last night. And thus, our first really long, in-depth playing session for maybe as much as a year. I am still rather all of a glow. 🙂

Some memories from the night:

Early in the evening, before going out to a pub to meet friends, lying in each other’s arms and sharing some fantasies. My energies were greater than his and I had a lot of pent-up kinky thoughts to express, so I scattered ideas like flowers on him, while he growled in appreciation and stroked and held me tightly. Some of those ideas may come back to haunt me. I do hope so. 😉

One idea which hit both of our buttons was for him to dress me up more often. The Magician is an artist, with a strong aesthetic sense, and a huge kink for decoration as well as giving orders. I only had one outfit to wear for an evening out in the pub with friends and I was wearing it, but I asked him to tell me how to do my hair and he did so gleefully, and also chose a coat for me to borrow from him. I’m looking forward to when my wardrobe recovers from my change of shape more thoroughly so that he can do more than that! But doing my hair (two plaits) under his orders was delightful, as was walking to the pub feeling that sense of having pleased him and demonstrated my submission to him, in a way that we both knew about and no one else did.

The pub time was wonderful. Excellent beer, super friends. Perhaps the Magician and I were a little more snuggled up even than usual. And he kept playing with my plaits. 😉

He was low on energy again when we arrived home. I stroked him and cuddled him and he let me kneel before him and take his boots off and kiss his feet. He stroked my hair and called me a good girl *and* a good boy, which pleased me mightily.

His energies revived a little later. I don’t have the order of events entirely clear in my mind. I recall him holding me down by my wrists and kissing me ruthlessly. Several times, as I kept asking him (very politely) to do it again. 😉 I remember him scratching me hard along my lower back, and telling me exactly how it felt – too distant to be pain, just pleasure and the knowledge that he could hurt me more whenever he wanted to. That hit me hard and wonderfully – I remember moaning just from being told (accurately) what I was feeling, understood and controlled and led to that extent.

I remember him telling me to struggle and try to get away from him. I remember feeling a little uneasy about trying, because the concept of wanting to felt so alien. I struggled hard because he had told me to, though. I remember the relief when he told me I could stop. This may not always work so well if I continue to do press-ups and lift weights. 😉

I remember the moment when he commanded me to feel my nipples pinched as though held by rings, and flicked the rings he had created in my mind until I cried out.

I remember the moment when he collared me, and the immense sense of peace and belonging and sheer joy that it gave me. And a similar feeling when he put me immediately on my chain lead, and hauled me up by it on to the bed and wrapped the chain around me.

I remember giving him a shoulder and back massage when his energies flagged again, and the delight and warmth of knowing I was serving him well and giving him pleasure and relief. I remember sending him energy all along his spine, and the satisfaction of knowing that it was helping, at least a little.

I remember drinking water, desperately thirsty, out of a bottle he held to my mouth.

I remember asking permission to use the bathroom, and walking there upright and unusually gracefully before him, determined to show pride in myself as his slave.

I remember finishing and being told to wait kneeling on the bathroom floor, and then being dragged, crawling by my collar back to the bedroom. I really don’t know which of the two ways of travelling I enjoyed the most.

I remember the longest, firmest hand-spanking I’ve had so far. No triggers, just a glorious amount of pain. I remember after 24, expressing a tentative wish for him to make me cry. He made the next 24 much harder. I didn’t cry outright, but I was definitely tearful by the end. I could have taken far more, but as our first deep session for so long, he was careful not to push me too hard. And my bottom is still a bit sore today, so yay. 🙂

I remember throughout his calm, firm, loving voice – though touched at times with a deliciously cruel amusement at my predicament, and especially at how completely he controlled and owned me. Those times carried with them an intimacy I can’t quite put into words.

I remember him inducing me, finally, to pleasure myself, while he fucked my brain with his words and held me close, and made sure I didn’t come for him until he gave me permission.

I remember being, erm, somewhat noisy. I hope his neighbours don’t mind too much. 😉 I was careful, as I always do now, to draw some power from the orgasm back into myself. As in my masturbation healing exercise, D/S for me is very much now a matter of sharing and transforming power and increasing the power that each of us has. Especially (but definitely not exclusively!) I think, the Sub.

And then he brought me gently back to the surface, and we cuddled a great deal. And I noticed how wild my plaits had become and how my hair generally kept getting in the way, and observed to our mutual amusement that while I find my submissiveness very much in joyful obedience and surrender, my hair is a *total* brat. 😉

And today my wonderful Magician is nursing me through very bad period, and making art. And we’re both hoping that we’ll have coinciding energies again for something similarly deep nice and soon. And maybe some new things from the fantasies we shared earlier in the evening.

And today, when I’m not doubled-up in pain (damn menstrual cramps!) I’m feeling a discernable satisfaction, pride and joy in how well last night went. Little or no self-disgust or unease or feeling powerless or triggered. This is huge progress, and exactly how I want to be feeling the day after a night like that. Hooray for me, and hooray for the Magician. 🙂

Now, I wonder if I can possibly persuade him to distract me from the period pain for a while. 😉

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A bad-ish week, and a useful realisation

October 16, 2011 at 12:15 pm (Uncategorized)

I’ve not had the best of weeks. Various stressful stuff has happened, the worst of which was a few hours last Monday during which the Magician wasn’t answering his phone (for the 3 1/2 hours after he’d asked for an alarm call), which is basically unheard of. Both the Magician’s extremely sensible boyfriend and I were more than half-fearing the worst.

Thank all the Gods (and believe me, I have been!), he was just out for the count with a bad cold, and managed to sleep through 15 missed calls when ordinarily he would be woken by the second ring of the first one. As soon as he did woke up, he looked at his phone, saw the missed calls, and phoned me immediately to reassure me. He’s been fantastic all week, completely understanding and patient with me crying all over him in relief, and determined to finally give his boyfriend (who lives nearer him than I do) a spare key in case anything like this happens again!

A couple of days ago I was hit by a wave of anxiety and exhaustion, and I’m fairly sure it was the recoil from all that. It’s still kicking my ass quite thoroughly, which is frustrating as it’s slowed down my physical progress quite considerably!

For some reason my self-esteem is also especially low at the moment – more back to how it used to be a year ago, with a great deal of body insecurity. Five years ago I was noticeably underweight, three years ago I was thin-ish, and now, a medication change later, I’m really quite plump. It’s led to a noticeable improvement in my physical health, and both my partners regard my new shape as a definite plus (especially in the bottom department!), but it’s still breaking my brain rather. It’s also very expensive in clothes!

Ah well. Ultimately, the medication I’m on which has led to the weight gain has done me a fantastic amount of good, my health has improved, and I can probably live with the patriarchy disapproving of my figure! It’s just a matter of overcoming the cognitive dissonance, and finding other ways of expressing my poly-genderedness (now I can’t be androgynous anymore), and making sure that those around me respect and honour the fact that I’m not really a cis woman, even if I look like one – and even when I’m wearing long flowing dresses and flowers in my hair!

While I’m talking about stresses, I’ve learned a new emergency coping mechanism over the last few months – and completed the realisations behind it last night – for occasions when people are angry with me or dislike me, and when they are angry with or dislike people I love.

None of those are circumstances I cope well with. I tend to head straight into panic, even if rationally it’s not something I need to get het up about, and in the case of people I care about disliking each other, while it’s sad, it’s not that much my business.

Looking back to my upbringing, however, it makes a sort of sense.

I grew up in an environment where punishments were grossly disproportionate. Emotional and physical abuse was the result of minor bits of misbehaviour, and even, sometimes, of no misbehaviour at all. At the same time, at school people disliking me led to them bullying me and encouraging others to do so. Meanwhile, when I was an adolescent, if my family disliked or disapproved of anyone I cared about, they usually made it as difficult as possible for me to see them – at the very least they would hold being forbidden to see them as a threat to get me to fall in line.

Throughout my childhood and some of my adolescence, people being angry with me or disliking me really did frequently lead to me being severely harmed. And as some of that harm was coming from my family, and including character assassination, on some level I genuinely feared that they might take my life. After all, their constant implication was regret that I was born. They didn’t intend that, but that’s *exactly* what it felt like. There’s a reason why I had (and sometimes still have) a recurring dream of my family having me executed, or approving of me being executed by some other body.

When someone is angry with me or dislikes me, I genuinely have a visceral fear that I will be harmed, possibly severely, and might even be killed. When someone is angry with or dislikes one of my loved ones, I have that fear for them, and also fear that I will be forced to no longer be close to them.

This is obviously a problem, because people have every right to be angry with others and like whom they choose! And I am angry with lots of people at various times, and dislike some, and on no account wish actual harm on any of them. I’m not sure I even wish harm on David Cameron or George Osborne, and that really is saying something!

The coping mechanism I’m developing for all this is twofold. Firstly, it is a matter of realising that it comes from my childhood, not from anything real in my life now. Secondly, I keep reiterating to myself, over and over again, words to this effect: “this does not mean that they are going to harm me/my loved one. I/my loved one is in no danger from them”. It sounds *ridiculous*, I know. It kind of is. But as soon as I start doing that, it shifts things in my brain sufficiently that I can let good sense and compassion and reality work their way in, and can approach the situation in a way that is healthy and useful and sensible. It makes apologising (where that’s appropriate) much easier, and it makes me feel much less panicky and ill!

I’m not sure quite what the point is of this post, except to express and discuss some of what day-to-day recovery looks like. It looks like fluctuations in mood and energy, depending on all sorts of factors. It looks like facing up to constant vulnerability, and trying as much as possible to have compassion for myself while doing so. And it looks like daily, gradual, determined persistence, locating, mostly one at a time, where all the tripwires and traps in my brain are left over from my childhood, and finding ways to dismantle them. Sometimes this happens on a daily basis. Sometimes I’m lucky and a whole load of traps both become visible and dismantle themselves all at once. Mostly it’s just a matter of lots of work, patience, time and energy. And step by step, little by little, I am making progress and getting there. 🙂

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Also, a note on rage

October 4, 2011 at 2:02 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

I was reading more of Healing Sex yesterday, in particular what to do about triggers during sexual activity.

Both during sexual activity and at other times, the most common trigger for me to get at the moment is rage.

This isn’t surprising. I have a *huge* amount of rage and anger stored up from when I was a child. Most of it I turned into anxiety or depression, or bottled it within my body where it contributed to my disabilities and generally high state of physical tension. We all find ways of coping with abuse, and with being taught by abusers that certain emotions aren’t acceptable, and that was mine. I’m not at all an angry person in the way that I interact with people as an adult. But the rage is still there, stored up – and hurting me. And making it harder for me to express legitimate anger when I experience it now.

I think there will come a point where sexual and/or kink activity can be part of healing from that. At the moment, it very much isn’t – and I’m especially scared of hitting some of that anger while topping, for obvious reasons. I have a clearer idea of the kind of Dom I want to be now – one whose power shows in calm, in focus, in quiet control. Very much a benevolent sadism! The Magician’s domminess is very much of that ilk, and it’s what I find sexiest, as well as most accessible from my own character. I think it will dovetail rather beautifully with the Warrior’s cheerful, hedonistic submissiveness, too! It’s also, I note, the most clear and thorough contrast with the total, vicious lack of control that I experienced from my abusers. That is, unsurprisingly, very important to me.

So! One of the things I am working on at the moment is finding ways of expressing and channeling my anger in ways that are satisfying but also non-harmful to myself and others. And, where at all possible, actively helpful!

I’ve had some lovely suggestions from various friends of mine, including sword-fighting with the Magician (he has some LARP swords, and is a fine swordsman himself 🙂 ), learning to bake bread, vicious cleaning in the bathroom, helping the Warrior with throwing bottles into a recycling skip, primal screaming, and getting one of those elasticated stress balls. Practising my jabs and crosses and kicks for the forthcoming acting challenge may also help. I’ve also had hitting (sturdy) trees with sticks suggested to me. I’m less convinced about the last of those, and will at least need to ask permission from the tree before I do it, and thank it afterwards! Maybe one or two might be okay with that though. 🙂

I’ll see how things go. It is very nice to have some ideas to be going on with (though I’m certainly up for more suggestions!) I think that expressing my stored up rage – both as it arises from triggering, and, where I can, as I deliberately seek out new layers of it – is one of the most important healing activities that I can be doing. Wish me luck?

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A physical challenge ahead…

October 4, 2011 at 1:44 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

I have a new, fun challenge ahead of me.

In a month-and-a-bit, I will be spending the weekend away with the Warrior and some mutual friends, reading through and acting out scripts of a certain tv series of which I am very fond.

I shall be playing an exceedingly active, athletic character, who has a great of fighting to do. She’s also US American and I’m, well, not.

Acting is something that’s hugely important to me, and these play-readings are a uniquely accessible way for me to get to do it, without the long rehearsal and performance process of stage acting (as an amateur or otherwise) that has generally proven destructive for my health. Over the last 2-3 years, however, my acting has been weaker than it used to be. Less emotionally engaged, less nuanced – just… well, less. And it would be very good for me to be able to redeem myself at this weekend.

So, I have the acting to work on. And I have the accent to work on, at least to get it to a point where it’s not actively painful for the one American person who’s going to be there!

And, perhaps above all, I need to work physically, to get myself to a stage both where I can deliver the kind of performance I want to, and not find myself utterly wrecked after the weekend.

There’s a limit to what I’ll be able to do – I’m disabled, dyspraxic and funny-jointed. But with gentle, firm, sensible dedication, I think I can get myself at least a bit more flexible, focused and fit before mid-November.

So! I think that means daily yoga, a little bit of weight-training at least a couple of times a week, walking when I feel up to it, and getting plenty of rest. Plus persuading the Warrior and the Magician to give me massages! I shall also practise the jabs, crosses and little bit of kicking that I learned during an abortive attempt to learn kickboxing a few years ago.

If any of you have other suggestions, I should be very glad to hear them!

I am also wondering whether I can bring in the Magician to help me with this. Even more so having watched this glorious clip from a video by Dreams of Spanking. Real, consensual, loving discipline and D/S from two singularly gorgeous performers. I am entirely endeared, and looking forward very much to the full video! And in the meantime, yes. If the Magician and I are both up for it, some motivational discipline from him could be just what I need.

And oh my am I happy that this is an option after all I’ve been going through. Hooray for healing. 🙂

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