Catching Up and Introspection

January 24th, 2014

Wow, what a month. Sorry about missing posting last week. I was going non-stop all week, with breaks only for homework. We had a nice relaxed adult con over the weekend. Ex-hubby and his girlfriend taught body drumming. I spent the first hour heckling – sometimes with actually good questions, sometimes just suggesting new places for him to drum her. Then her screams actually pulled in an audience with questions of their own. There was also an excellent class in violet wands from our up and coming zapper extraordinaire – he kept doing scenes long after the class was over. I had a great scene last week with him and the engineer, which I will probably post shortly after this post goes live. But it has been a week of introspection this week, and I want to write about that first.

 

Fear is indeed the mind-killer.

I enjoy fear-play. I love the rush. I love the release of tears. I love that I can do that now, without feeling guilty, self-conscious or bad in any way (whether from fear or some other type of play). However, this often means playing with things(objects, tools) that I don’t love (why else would they cause fear?).

I enjoy orgasms. I enjoy control (mmm, power exchange). I enjoy orgasm control. Whether this means begging to come during sexual activity or using a vibrator, or being commanded to come via my number training or some other way. I enjoy being made to come while in pain, or through the use of pain (oooh, spankings). (Side note: remember Not all orgasms are created equal.)

Last week, he decided to combine fear play and orgasm control into one big messy pile of tears with a stun gun. The scene was awesome. I was happy. He was bouncy happy. And the week rolled on at high speed.

Monday, I realized I hadn’t posted about the scene, I hadn’t really stopped to think about the Friday party or the convention or really anything that had happened over the last week. So, after I got home from watching Seven with the polycule, I sat down with my journal and started writing.

And my brain broke. Hard.

Maybe it was the talk of too many people near me(but not close to me) passing. Maybe it was feeling weird for not being as disturbed by the movie as I thought I should have been (had seen it before, so nothing was a real surprise). Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was being with so many people so many days in a row and then suddenly being alone. Or maybe I just need my brain to break occasionally so I can figure things out about myself.

In any case, I recognized the downward spiral I was taking, and after one attempt to climb back out that took me deeper, I stopped. I put the journal down and went to bed. Tuesday I went to work, did homework and went to gaming. Wednesday, I finished my homework post and then sat down with an empty text document to sort through my brain.

Taking from my experience with both him and ex-lover, I decided to do a Q&A with myself. If I just write, it can get very spirally. If I keep my questions simple and my answers short, I can usually sort things out more logically.

It took me a little while to dig down into the fear (bad kind) and figure out why I was freaking out. I was afraid of loss. Afraid that in my fear, I would lose my orgasm control training; or in my orgasm control training, I would lose my fear. I had to then reality check myself – was either of these things likely? No. The training is deeply ingrained, and the fear isn’t likely to go away. Besides, if it does, he’ll just get something scarier (I’m looking at you, stun baton). Nothing to be scared of losing, nothing to be upset about, it’s all good.

 

Yesterday, at work, I realized I was still carrying some childhood baggage. Part of it I was consciously aware of, part of it I had forgotten about, but kept internalized. I’m a younger child. My brother and I were very similar children. We played the same sports, we looked alike, we both did well in school, had the same teachers. I’ve always been aware of the sibling rivalry problems – he was older so he did everything first, so when I did it, no big deal. He got all A’s, so mine weren’t impressive, just expected. I always felt disappointment if I didn’t do something as well as he had done. This is why I went towards music and drama in high school, while he did Quiz Bowl and sports. But there was other damage I had shut away in my mind.

These last few years, I have found myself experiencing issues in my polycules when a metamour says or does something first. I don’t want to do the same scene they already did, I want a unique scene. (Yes, yes, every scene is unique because of who is in it and our different reactions even to the same stimuli, but you’re being too logical.) I feel awkward saying I love you after she has already said it to him, even though I feel the same way. If she suddenly cuddles him, I feel awkward about cuddling the other side of him. But while these feelings could be said to come from sibling rivalry issues, it didn’t quite mesh for me. I was thinking about something along these lines yesterday, when I realized something.

In my sixth grade year, we moved. We were both in the same middle school in the new town, and the 7th graders had some extra-curricular classes in common with the 8th graders, while we all shared a lunch hour. So, they met my brother first, and given our similar appearances, started calling me Re-Pete. Like I was just a copy, and I internalized the mocking tone to mean a poor copy.

It was literally an Ah-Ha moment. I had forgotten all about that. But my unconscious was still on guard against me copying other people. Telling myself that it made me pathetic, just another copy, not my own person. It is definitely high time I unpack that baggage.

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