Self Care

January 17th, 2018

Self care isn’t just about eating right, exercising, and sleeping. It is also caring about your own happiness, and not staying in situations that make you miserable. It’s about speaking up for yourself and going after what you want. I am trying to do a better job of this (aren’t I always).

I most often find it hard in situations where I have a responsibility: to an SO, to a group, to friends. I feel like I must do the thing, even when I don’t want to. And I sometimes start to resent the thing and feelings of not wanting to grow even more. Yet, I continue to feel like I have to do it, especially if other people opt out, leaving myself and others to pick up the slack. They are doing what makes them happy, or what is right for their situation, but then, I feel like I cannot do the same.

These feelings are complicated by my Service relationship. He says none of us should do what doesn’t make us happy. That if we’re not enjoying the group/event, we don’t have to be there. But part of our relationship is me helping him with the group/event, my service is about making his life/job easier. I feel like, if I don’t go, I’m making his life/job harder. So, I write the story in my head that not going is a failure of service.

Also complicated because I want to spend time with him. If I don’t go, I don’t see him. If I don’t go, there’s no chance (however small) of playing or practicing rope with him. He has recently made more time for us to spend together on Monday afternoons, and I really appreciate that. It’s a different sort of time than event time, though.

Despite my two jobs, my life really is uncomplicated. I have no kids to take care of. my jobs are both day-time jobs, and one is incredibly flexible. I have a regular social schedule. Monday – Poly Family, Tuesday – Gaming, Wednesday – Kink Class/Practice. Monthly Kink Party (sometimes two nights). Monthly-ish Geek Party/Convention. Monthly Date Night. I have a really nice life.

I want to find a way to put the kink and the connection back into those weekly/monthly Kink events, because right now they just feel like work, and stressful, annoying work at that.

I think this is really the crux of it. I don’t have fun at these events anymore. For the monthly, I rush to get there, then I stress at who is doing what, and when, and who isn’t showing up. Then everyone asks me all the questions, because I’m the one who spends the whole night inactive, just watching over it all. And half the time, I then have to leave early because of Saturday morning work. On the weekly, I end up doing work because Life keeps happening to the official staff, and it’s not their fault, but I am put back in unhappy memories of being stuck at the door, unable to practice/play. Frustration levels rise.

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Frustration

July 12th, 2014

Mind is spinning on a lot of different topics. Topics I’ve talked about before, at length. Things happening that have happened before. I skimmed back through my blog, for previous posts to jump off from. But my thoughts aren’t organized. I’m looking back at Rape Culture Rant, Boundary Responsibility, and an article about Labeling Women as Crazy. I’m not even sure that these are the right places to start, so this might go a bit sideways. I didn’t find any posts about what I was looking for, because I didn’t post about it when it was happening. More on that below.

I’m frustrated again. And this time it isn’t My Community. It so far away, and it’s mostly people I don’t know. And there is nothing I can do about it. I sent a message of support, but I have no clue if it actually came across that way. No reply, but that’s not unusual. Things go wrong, things go badly, people react, people apologize, things are talked about, and people think it’s over. Then, years later, when memories have faded, or even warped. When things have been forgotten on one hand, and twisted on another. When someone pulls a trigger in a completely other direction, everything explodes again. There are witch hunts and badwagons, and everyone chooses sides. And there’s nothing I can do from here.

I recall being told, a couple years ago “that’s not the man I know.” I was glad for her, but worried, that she would come to know that man, in time. But I understand the phrase better now. The things I was reading, are certainly “not the man I know.” Granted there is time and space, but I feel like I know him just as well now as I did back when. And I found myself mentally dismissing women as crazy, and casting blame on them. But mostly just being frustrated that it was happening again.

I’m not one for public character attacks. For trial by internet forum. Yes, I’m a blogger, and I blog about my relationships, but I do my best not to attack or cast blame here, or try to solve problems by publically posting about them. I go and talk to people in person. I may post later about how problems were discussed or solved, but only after I’ve gone to the people involved and worked it out. Correct me, if I’m wrong, reader, but public smear campaigns tend to dirty everyone involved.

Okay, enough of that.

 

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Rope Scenes

July 14th, 2011

I’ve posted a lot about rope. About why I like it, what I like about it, about scenes I’ve had with it, about buying it, about learning to tie it. There have been a lot of classes on rope lately, with more coming up, especially at COPE in September. The most recent was on Eeling. And he said he learned more about me by attending than about the subject, because he and I don’t play like that. Way back when we first met, he challenged me to get out of a tie, but not since. Our scenes are about other things that escape. So, it brought to mind today, what kinds of rope scenes are there, what kinds do I enjoy, and what do I get out of the different kinds?

Suspension is one, well, two really. There are high-flying suspensions, and there are static.

High-flying suspensions I have written about a few times, describing particular scenes or the freedom in it. The care for comfort of the tie, and the attention to detail of the rigging are very important. Swinging from a point 15-20′ in the air by thin ropes tied around the body is a feeling like no other I’ve ever experienced. We compare it to a swing set of childhood, or a roller coaster ride. But it is so much more than the first, and so much more sensual than the second. It is about trust and control. Giving it all to the person tying and flying you. One mistake and bad things could happen. But when it’s done right, with care and attention. The energy, the joy, the sense of freedom, is incredible. The dizziness from spinning well worth the feeling of the spin. The rope marks can last for days, bright red lines where the ropes lay, holding you in the sky. And for me, the scene doesn’t end when I’m back on the ground. I float as he unties, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, leaving burns with the lines. And then I sink back down to earth, surrounded by the rope, coiling it up, breathing it in. Landing mentally, only when it is all put away again.

Static suspensions share a lot of the same sensations and feelings with high-flying ones. But they tend to be more sensual for me. More about the rope touching and holding. More about the feel of him close to me, often playing with me while I’m suspended. Static lends to deeper space, less wide-eyed excitement. I sink into rope space whenever I am tied, but when left to hang in it, my mind sinks deeper into my body. Feeling everything. And floats out to him, feeling the energy and the exchange.

A similar state is achieved through floor scenes. When he ties me, not to a suspension point, but into a ball, or a hog-tie or some such, self-contained tie. These, though, have me grounded, literally, and mentally. I am not floating away, finding the freedom of being suspended. I am tied into myself, molded into the shape he wishes. I am made vulnerable in a completely different way. No longer is my life hanging by a thread, but rather, I am at his mercy. I am where and what he wants me to be. I am bound and helpless, and available for whatever he wants to do, with less safety concerns to distract. (Yes, there are always safety concerns, but not maintaining steady breathing, or a numb limb isn’t going to end a ground scene nearly as quickly as a suspension.) Floor scenes can be as simple as tying and leaving to melt, whether in a ball on the floor, or walking around with just the upper body bound. Or tying and then tormenting – whips, floggers, paddles, pinches, nipple clamps, tickling, what have you. A fully sensual and power exchange scene for me.

Coming off floor scenes, there are bed scenes. Tied down to a bed, for sex and torment. To be tied completely open and vulnerable. These have a different feel from ground scenes, for various reasons. One, obviously, if the intent is sex, is quite a bit different than the above feelings. But the other, for torment, is still different, too. Tied in a ground tie, immobilized and tormented is one thing. Often you can’t see what’s coming, or you can curl and squirm at the very least. Tied out spread eagle, unable to even pretend you can protect or defend yourself. Waiting, watching, often enduring torment that you can do nothing about. It is a similar, but uniquely delicious space. For me, there is far less sinking into the rope in these scenes. Sometimes I use pulling on the rope to process the pain, or as a focus point, but these scenes do not take me to rope space nearly as much as a ground tie.

The last type, I want to talk about is what sparked this post. Eeling. Getting out of the rope you were put in. I used to do this type of scene with the other a lot, or folks on the crew, just playing around when we were bored. See how long it took to escape a particular tie. Or tie myself up so the other could watch me escape. Or be tied up and left to escape on my own. Or one particular friend like to keep adding rope as I would untie the first few. These were interesting scenes for me. Scenes of challenge. I like challenges, challenging myself, being challenged. The ties were puzzles to be solved. And learned from. I love learning, too. I started learning suspension ties by untying them. I learned a lot about floor and bed ties by untying myself. There was discussion about what about eeling turns eels on, and about the rollercoaster that eeling scenes can be. For me – the joy of being tied, the thrill of the challenge set before me, the frustration of a difficult (or improbable to escape) tie, the thrill of getting a knot undone or getting some slack, the frustration that it did no good, continuing on to either end with the satisfaction of escaping, or the arousal of surrender. These scenes can be very tricky. The frustration can overwhelm, or the eel can cause themselves physical injury, or panic can set in (especially when combined with abandonment). But if the balance can be maintained, the frustration can be channeled and the panic controlled, and injury avoided, I enjoy these scenes very much if it is what the top is also after. I am not one to get out of any rope put on me just to see if I can. I like being in it far too much for that.

Are there any other types you enjoy? Do you have a favorite? What about the different types do you like?

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A Bad Day

April 7th, 2011

I’m having a bad day. Work was fine, the cat didn’t attack me, the weather was gorgeous, no one got hurt or is deathly ill in my immediate life(though, for my good friends who do have that in their lives, I’m incredibly sorry and wish I could be there for them more than I currently am). I didn’t break the car or lose my phone or have drama explode. Nothing changed today. But I’m having a bad day.

It happens time to time. My body fights me. My immune system attacks (mostly) my joints. I have pain and swelling in various bits and pieces depending on the day, week, month, year. I used to take a lot of drugs. A couple years ago, about the time I started this blog, I was getting worse and my doc upped my injections. I snapped, I was tired of the drugs. Tired of the chemicals, tired of getting worse. I changed my diet. Massively. It didn’t cure me, like I hoped it would. But it controls it about as well as the drugs did.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I blame the flares on not sticking as strictly to the diet as I should. On not eating raw enough. On not eating alkaline enough. But then I also have two books with opposing opinions on what is and what is not alkalizing. On stress. On empathetic pain, sometimes. I take a naproxen every now and then. If I have a really bad flare, I take a couple prednisone. Rationalizing that one or two pills a week is better than four a day and two shots a week.

I haven’t been to my rheumatologist in a over a year at this point due to money and insurance concerns and the fact I’ve stopped taking the drugs. I’ve still got spare pain killers left from the refills I did a year and a half ago. Probably, they say they should be thrown out by now, but that’s not the point.

I’m having a bad day. My wrist hurts, my elbow is buggered, my ankle’s achey, and my shoulders are cranky. None of it’s debilitating, but it was all worse this morning before I took a naproxen. I knelt tonight, made it to 28 minutes before I got up, and was in tears a short while later. Not tears of physical pain. Physical pain hardly ever makes me cry by itself.

I’m a masochist. A pain slut. I enjoy pain, I get off on it. No, Midori would say, I get off on intense sensation. No one enjoys stubbing their toe accidentally. It’s the pain I can’t control that made today bad. It’s the frustration that got me up from kneeling before 30 minutes because I wanted to stop the pain I could stop, because I couldn’t stop the other pains. And honestly, some days, that’s what keeps me there the whole 30 minutes, because I’ve chosen to be there.

It’s why I’m a masochist. I enjoy control, I get off on power exchange. I get off on giving someone else the power to cause me pain. I get off on allowing myself to feel pain because I choose it. I get off on the adrenaline and the endorphins, too. But on a bad day, I want to get off by choosing pain instead of pain choosing me.

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