Mouse's post about subspace got me in a little bit of a funk - It's not Mouse's fault at all (really, really Mouse) - it's my own mental twists and turns. It's also a lack of understanding and my generally silly thinking.
I have no idea if I am submissive or not. I think this is a larger question than me, certainly at this point. In looking for information about submission though, subspace is mentioned far and wide - from blogs to "how to guides". It would seem, or at least it did to me, that it is part and parcel of being submissive, so much so, that it seems almost a litmus test for "are you or are you not?" And since I had not experienced it, I reasoned, maybe I "am not." Eventually I decided that I needed to set aside this particular line of reasoning as being un-useful. It went along with learning to be concerned only with us and our way of being.
But the notion of subspace hanging out there has impacted me in other ways also. On good days - I simply wondered what it would be like, sort of "gee, wouldn't that be swell." Other days though, frankly, the fact that it hadn't happened to me made me feel defective, not adequate, like I must be either doing it wrong, or barking up the wrong tree entirely.
It does seem that the whole phenomenon is at least in part related to endorphins or other neurotransmitters. This of course can occur in anyone. My husband runs marathons, his high that kicks in at mile 20 obviously has nothing to do with submission. I experienced the huge rush of endorphins (and whatever other hormones joined the party) during childbirth. I was certainly in pain, but became suddenly flushed, hot, energized, and also detached from the pain at a certain point. In fact, I've had the same flush of endorphins from playing, so I think it must not be the whole story of subspace.
I love when my husband and I can play, or, more accurately I suppose, have him play with me. (I know *play* isn't a great term, I haven't come up with a better one). Maybe someday I will try to put into words what it makes me feel, and what it does do for me, to me. I think he might like that actually. But it has been a lot of learning. Learning logistics of course. But also, starting from absolute scratch, learning what effect every thing has on each of us, on me to have it done to me, and on him to do it, how far to push, what lies beyond that, what to hold onto and pay attention to, and what to let go of. One of the biggest or most challenging things for me to learn how to let go of was thinking, especially thinking about how I *should* be responding instead of just responding. I do think the elusive "subspace" hanging out there was part of the idea of how I felt like I should be responding. It was something I had to let go of.
As I put in my comment on Mouse's post, I have a hard time making my mind do what I want it to. But I have been able to put aside thinking about what and how I should be doing or feeling and try to focus on following what he wants me to do.
And thank you Omega and Mouse for your comments and concern.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
nipple torture?
I'm all for nipple torture, but............
Behold the Flaming Tatas of India
By matthew.debord
Created 03/23/2010 - 9:09am
Shifting Gears [1]
I ran across the headline and, even though I knew of the car, my mind still went a different direction entirely.
Behold the Flaming Tatas of India
By matthew.debord
Created 03/23/2010 - 9:09am
Shifting Gears [1]
I ran across the headline and, even though I knew of the car, my mind still went a different direction entirely.
Then............
We went to the art museum this weekend and passed by this sculpture on the way out - my husband got a huge grin on his face that needed no explanation.
Yes, another tease........
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Explaining myself
After this past weekend, we've had some conversations. Part of the upshot for me was that, in a few things that were important to me, his way of responding seemed to me to be back to our old ways, not the ways we had been learning and getting better at. Part of it for me, unfortunately, is my assumptions. I assume he knows how I feel about things, how I respond, what has what kind of effect on me; never mind the fact that I haven't actually told him most of these things. I also, I think, fall into the trap of having an idea of how things "should work", something I create in my imagination, fueled by too much reading and too much imagining.
But the slide into our previous patterns led me to think that perhaps he either didn't really want to be involved in any sort of power exchange/dominant/submissive/ttwd relationship at all. [Yes, in spite of being typically nearly perfect, every once in awhile I have a bout of overly dramatic self doubt and insecurity] Specifically, I wondered if he was uncomfortable with thinking of me as "submissive." The word doesn't have the most positive connotations in the more general, everyday sense. Did it make him think I am not the person he has known, that I am or want to be less - less intelligent, less useful, less engaged, less thoughtful, less strong?
His response,after a good deal of thought, was that he doesn't want any part of something in which he (or any one else) diminishes in their respect for me. That he knows there are some areas I am more suited for than he - and it is silly for him to take over those things. And that he doesn't feel any compulsion to lessen me, that what he really feels compelled to do is to take care of me.
I know it doesn't have to be these things. First of all, it wouldn't work for us that way - we just couldn't, so it won't happen, whether anyone would argue it should or not. I also believe that we can use the advantages the dynamic has to offer, expand and nurture some aspects to my personality that I had never realized, and, I think, utilize his strengths more fully - all while being true to ourselves.
So I am trying to explain myself to him. This is very hard because I am learning myself all over again. There is a lot about myself that I don't understand. A lot of reactions, responses, thoughts, feelings, obsessions, and changes in personality that take me by complete surprise. It sounds incredibly simplistic to say "subs are this way; it's best to do x,y,and z, with them; they will respond to...." But instinct tells me that, as much as I am an individual, and we are certainly uniquely us, there are probably some common traits, patterns, ways of thinking maybe that might be helpful to be aware of.
Someone has suggested to me that it would be good for my husband to read about or discuss with others how submissives are, so that he will know what to expect, how I will respond, what I need, etc... I agree, and I don't. I do think it would make it easier for him (and me) for some of my strange reactions and behaviours to be less shocking to him, for him to have ideas about how to help me realize things, to maybe avoid some the misunderstanding. Ideas or inspiration are good, not re-creating the wheel is good, learning from others' mistakes is good. On the other hand, I know he doesn't want to be or follow anyone else, and I don't want to be anyone but what he wants. I think that, somehow between the two, there must be a balance point.
In the mean time - I will keep trying to explain myself to him.
But the slide into our previous patterns led me to think that perhaps he either didn't really want to be involved in any sort of power exchange/dominant/submissive/ttwd relationship at all. [Yes, in spite of being typically nearly perfect, every once in awhile I have a bout of overly dramatic self doubt and insecurity] Specifically, I wondered if he was uncomfortable with thinking of me as "submissive." The word doesn't have the most positive connotations in the more general, everyday sense. Did it make him think I am not the person he has known, that I am or want to be less - less intelligent, less useful, less engaged, less thoughtful, less strong?
His response,after a good deal of thought, was that he doesn't want any part of something in which he (or any one else) diminishes in their respect for me. That he knows there are some areas I am more suited for than he - and it is silly for him to take over those things. And that he doesn't feel any compulsion to lessen me, that what he really feels compelled to do is to take care of me.
I know it doesn't have to be these things. First of all, it wouldn't work for us that way - we just couldn't, so it won't happen, whether anyone would argue it should or not. I also believe that we can use the advantages the dynamic has to offer, expand and nurture some aspects to my personality that I had never realized, and, I think, utilize his strengths more fully - all while being true to ourselves.
So I am trying to explain myself to him. This is very hard because I am learning myself all over again. There is a lot about myself that I don't understand. A lot of reactions, responses, thoughts, feelings, obsessions, and changes in personality that take me by complete surprise. It sounds incredibly simplistic to say "subs are this way; it's best to do x,y,and z, with them; they will respond to...." But instinct tells me that, as much as I am an individual, and we are certainly uniquely us, there are probably some common traits, patterns, ways of thinking maybe that might be helpful to be aware of.
Someone has suggested to me that it would be good for my husband to read about or discuss with others how submissives are, so that he will know what to expect, how I will respond, what I need, etc... I agree, and I don't. I do think it would make it easier for him (and me) for some of my strange reactions and behaviours to be less shocking to him, for him to have ideas about how to help me realize things, to maybe avoid some the misunderstanding. Ideas or inspiration are good, not re-creating the wheel is good, learning from others' mistakes is good. On the other hand, I know he doesn't want to be or follow anyone else, and I don't want to be anyone but what he wants. I think that, somehow between the two, there must be a balance point.
In the mean time - I will keep trying to explain myself to him.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I screwed up.
I got up out of bed and went to sleep on the sofa because I didn't want to sleep next to my husband. Neither of us has ever done that before. I didn't think about it, I just needed to be not near him. I didn't consider that it would really bother him. But it did, enormously.
A lot of poor choices and mis-communication got us to the point that I felt that way, and a lot of fears and misunderstandings are being uncovered trying to reconcile.
This new dynamic has improved our relationship immensely, but when things go wrong, I feel like they go much worse, like falling from a higher place or like something highly tuned to go fast or powerfully which is easily derailed by the smallest bump. The bumps also scare me because the reactions and feelings and ways of interacting that we had grown past all come flooding back, and are ugly and bitter to me. That was the risk of starting this, that if it failed, if we failed, we would return to the way things had been, only to find them no longer so palatable.
My husband disagrees. He feels that the same advantages that make this dynamic work typically, make us more resiliant to the bumps, not less so. I want to see it that way. He wants me to see it that way. In order to do that, I need to figure out what is keeping me from believing this.
A lot of poor choices and mis-communication got us to the point that I felt that way, and a lot of fears and misunderstandings are being uncovered trying to reconcile.
This new dynamic has improved our relationship immensely, but when things go wrong, I feel like they go much worse, like falling from a higher place or like something highly tuned to go fast or powerfully which is easily derailed by the smallest bump. The bumps also scare me because the reactions and feelings and ways of interacting that we had grown past all come flooding back, and are ugly and bitter to me. That was the risk of starting this, that if it failed, if we failed, we would return to the way things had been, only to find them no longer so palatable.
My husband disagrees. He feels that the same advantages that make this dynamic work typically, make us more resiliant to the bumps, not less so. I want to see it that way. He wants me to see it that way. In order to do that, I need to figure out what is keeping me from believing this.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Why is sex so important?
Over the past year I am learning and being shown more and more that it is such a crucial part of our relationship.
My past has heavily influenced my attitudes about sex - and, I'm sure, my sexuality. I don't mean in a deep, "requires years of psychoanalysis to uncover" way. I'm sure that is there also - but I am blissful being ignorant of the details of whatever may lie below what I consciously understand. I know there were some strange, very abnormal things that happened around me and some absolutely wrong things that happened to me through my childhood. The things that happened to me, I have faced and come to terms with, and left in the past. The things that happened around me I think I am only starting to recognize and work out.
Growing up, the general social attitude about sex was conservative but not especially repressive. Within this context, my parents lived their sex life out in the open, and not in a "the human body is beautiful, our sexuality is a natural expression of our love" way. They aired their laundry, played their mind games, laid their traps and guilt trips, made their threats, and fought for control out loud and in front of everyone. Most often, everyone was the children and the conversations, arguments, and acts were way, way too specific. Their circumstances were governed by the fact of my dad's disability, which added layers of dysfunction to their dynamic, many of which I recognize, but am not (as is clear here) reconciled with. But - I'm not so willing to go digging any deeper through their abuse and passivity either.
So through my teens, through dating, and through the majority of my marriage, my normal, physiological, hormonal, etc... desires for the physical acts of sex were always at war with my very dim view of sex as a loving bond between two people. Only recently am I learning that it really can be.
There is a common wisdom that says that women need the relationship primarily and sex is a nice add on, and that men need the sex and the relationship can flow from there. [By conventional wisdom, I mean typical grocery store, check out counter, magazine racks.] I'm thinking that it's much deeper than either of those, and that in this, we (my husband and I) are becoming more aligned in our view of the role of sex. Ironically, we are becoming closer in our view of it even as we grow further apart from each other in our roles and the specific ways we engage in and experience it.
I'm not sure what terms people would use, but taking sex to levels that include more control, bondage, pain, objectification, whatever it is that moves it beyond making love - requires more effort for both parties and has more risk. It can require planning, precious alone time (our kids are around WAY TOO MUCH), maybe equipment, certainly a whole different level of mental involvement. The risks are greater also - the risk of being walked in on by a child is far less acceptable than "normal" mom and dad sex (not that we want that to happen either). There is also every chance that things will not go as envisioned, that a response will be different than expected, that there will be distress felt by one person or the other.
So what is the drive to try? Because I do feel the drive. I am frustrated by lack of time and opportunity, but have no thoughts of wanting to give up the effort. I get antsy and out of sorts (to put it mildly) if it has been too long. But with a nod to Sir J, why is this so important, so foundational?
I have a few ideas. I am working on it. With any luck we will keep investigating for many years - then I'll get back to you.
My past has heavily influenced my attitudes about sex - and, I'm sure, my sexuality. I don't mean in a deep, "requires years of psychoanalysis to uncover" way. I'm sure that is there also - but I am blissful being ignorant of the details of whatever may lie below what I consciously understand. I know there were some strange, very abnormal things that happened around me and some absolutely wrong things that happened to me through my childhood. The things that happened to me, I have faced and come to terms with, and left in the past. The things that happened around me I think I am only starting to recognize and work out.
Growing up, the general social attitude about sex was conservative but not especially repressive. Within this context, my parents lived their sex life out in the open, and not in a "the human body is beautiful, our sexuality is a natural expression of our love" way. They aired their laundry, played their mind games, laid their traps and guilt trips, made their threats, and fought for control out loud and in front of everyone. Most often, everyone was the children and the conversations, arguments, and acts were way, way too specific. Their circumstances were governed by the fact of my dad's disability, which added layers of dysfunction to their dynamic, many of which I recognize, but am not (as is clear here) reconciled with. But - I'm not so willing to go digging any deeper through their abuse and passivity either.
So through my teens, through dating, and through the majority of my marriage, my normal, physiological, hormonal, etc... desires for the physical acts of sex were always at war with my very dim view of sex as a loving bond between two people. Only recently am I learning that it really can be.
There is a common wisdom that says that women need the relationship primarily and sex is a nice add on, and that men need the sex and the relationship can flow from there. [By conventional wisdom, I mean typical grocery store, check out counter, magazine racks.] I'm thinking that it's much deeper than either of those, and that in this, we (my husband and I) are becoming more aligned in our view of the role of sex. Ironically, we are becoming closer in our view of it even as we grow further apart from each other in our roles and the specific ways we engage in and experience it.
I'm not sure what terms people would use, but taking sex to levels that include more control, bondage, pain, objectification, whatever it is that moves it beyond making love - requires more effort for both parties and has more risk. It can require planning, precious alone time (our kids are around WAY TOO MUCH), maybe equipment, certainly a whole different level of mental involvement. The risks are greater also - the risk of being walked in on by a child is far less acceptable than "normal" mom and dad sex (not that we want that to happen either). There is also every chance that things will not go as envisioned, that a response will be different than expected, that there will be distress felt by one person or the other.
So what is the drive to try? Because I do feel the drive. I am frustrated by lack of time and opportunity, but have no thoughts of wanting to give up the effort. I get antsy and out of sorts (to put it mildly) if it has been too long. But with a nod to Sir J, why is this so important, so foundational?
I have a few ideas. I am working on it. With any luck we will keep investigating for many years - then I'll get back to you.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
putting things together
Some things are starting to tie together in my mind. That's one of the advantages of this blog - I can look and see how the back and forth and all-over-the-place of my thoughts sometimes really make a pattern that I may not have recognized otherwise. My mind has been chewing on the idea of what I do and say, versus what I really think. I don't always succeed in saying or doing the right thing, but I try. What I think, though, has and will continue to evolve, I'm sure. I'm also sure that, on one hand, I am meant to think and consider and make choices deliberately, biut that, on the other hand, theI have too many backseat-driving-in-my-mind thoughts that are not useful or good for us. Where that line is will change over time, but, as we keep going along, I hope there will be more of the former and fewer of the latter.
I think that this had everything to do with what happened last week. We - neither of us - is experienced in this. [Just to be clear, in this case I'm talking about sex, and play, and the things designed to cause pain and maybe anxiety for me] I fall vicitim to the human (maybe uniquely submissive - I don't know) appeal of the James Bond-esque man who knows all, can do all, with no hint of hesitation, everything is always perfect and perfectly effective, every time, fantasy. But I am an adult and I am able to separate fantasy from reality. The fact remains though, that this is a learn as you go kind of process for both of us, and since I'm the one being learned upon, those backseat-driving-in-my-mind thoughts are often loudest when things are the most intense. Which I think very much defeats the purpose and detracts from the whole thing - I assume the idea is to experience the experience rather than view or analyze it. I guess that's part of the learning curve. I can see over time that I am slowly becoming able to quiet these thoughts with more things, but they remain quite instrusive, quite often.
The trade off to our inexperience, of course, is that we have years of experience and history with each other. We know each other pretty well, and we trust each other; particularly, I absloutely trust his desire to always protect me from harm. That's the other reason I hate the voices of caution and second guessing in my head. It's not fair to him (ignore that 4 letter word if you must). Being on guard and analyzing every act as it occurs to decide if I think it is ok, safe, or whatever, is a serious lack of trust.
I don't know what happened last time to trigger it, I hadn't been thinking explicitly about any of these things, but something about it, or maybe everything about it, made it different. Shortly into it, all the voices stopped. There was no being on guard or watching to see if I needed to protect myself. There was just the experiencing. And I think that's why it felt so very unusual and left me so adrift afterwards.
The two of us were able to spend some time over the weekend talking about it. As we sorted it out and the implications became clear, we began to see it as a good thing. There is no reason in the world why we have to take our relationship or our sex life on this sort of adventure. But I think it makes my husband deeply pleased to see me be able to turn myself over to him in this way, and that makes me so happy.
I think that this had everything to do with what happened last week. We - neither of us - is experienced in this. [Just to be clear, in this case I'm talking about sex, and play, and the things designed to cause pain and maybe anxiety for me] I fall vicitim to the human (maybe uniquely submissive - I don't know) appeal of the James Bond-esque man who knows all, can do all, with no hint of hesitation, everything is always perfect and perfectly effective, every time, fantasy. But I am an adult and I am able to separate fantasy from reality. The fact remains though, that this is a learn as you go kind of process for both of us, and since I'm the one being learned upon, those backseat-driving-in-my-mind thoughts are often loudest when things are the most intense. Which I think very much defeats the purpose and detracts from the whole thing - I assume the idea is to experience the experience rather than view or analyze it. I guess that's part of the learning curve. I can see over time that I am slowly becoming able to quiet these thoughts with more things, but they remain quite instrusive, quite often.
The trade off to our inexperience, of course, is that we have years of experience and history with each other. We know each other pretty well, and we trust each other; particularly, I absloutely trust his desire to always protect me from harm. That's the other reason I hate the voices of caution and second guessing in my head. It's not fair to him (ignore that 4 letter word if you must). Being on guard and analyzing every act as it occurs to decide if I think it is ok, safe, or whatever, is a serious lack of trust.
I don't know what happened last time to trigger it, I hadn't been thinking explicitly about any of these things, but something about it, or maybe everything about it, made it different. Shortly into it, all the voices stopped. There was no being on guard or watching to see if I needed to protect myself. There was just the experiencing. And I think that's why it felt so very unusual and left me so adrift afterwards.
The two of us were able to spend some time over the weekend talking about it. As we sorted it out and the implications became clear, we began to see it as a good thing. There is no reason in the world why we have to take our relationship or our sex life on this sort of adventure. But I think it makes my husband deeply pleased to see me be able to turn myself over to him in this way, and that makes me so happy.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
It hurt.
It's supposed to - that's what I asked for... what, a year ago now.
But this was different - my position, whatever he was doing, turned out differently.
I didn't know, I knew, but I didn't know. I don't think he knew - how could he?
It changed me, or I was changed, or it shifted my mind somehow. I think that, instead of thinking I was feeling, instead of planning I was waiting, instead of trying I was listening and reaching to sense him. It's fuzzy, it didn't get written to memory the usual way.
Feeling and sensing don't leave room for should I or shouldn't I? Or how should I? Or why? Or, what must he think? The only option is to react. What the body does, what the mind does without censoring.
But why did it leave me on the edge of tears afterwards? Tentative, raw, withdrawn?
It's supposed to - that's what I asked for... what, a year ago now.
But this was different - my position, whatever he was doing, turned out differently.
I didn't know, I knew, but I didn't know. I don't think he knew - how could he?
It changed me, or I was changed, or it shifted my mind somehow. I think that, instead of thinking I was feeling, instead of planning I was waiting, instead of trying I was listening and reaching to sense him. It's fuzzy, it didn't get written to memory the usual way.
Feeling and sensing don't leave room for should I or shouldn't I? Or how should I? Or why? Or, what must he think? The only option is to react. What the body does, what the mind does without censoring.
But why did it leave me on the edge of tears afterwards? Tentative, raw, withdrawn?
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