Martial Arts Fix

 Sorry I'm not posting much.  School and life have been rather busy lately.

---

One of my defensive martial arts teachers is more aggressive with me than the other teachers.  He’ll push me and tell me I can do better and won’t accept the timidity I sometimes have when I don’t know what I’m doing.

And he doesn’t mind if I get hurt a bit.  If my finger was in the way when he was using a practice weapon, he’ll hit my finger and then I’ll learn to move my finger faster next time.  And he’ll throw me fairly hard when demonstrating some of the defensive moves.  One time, he pinned me with his knee on my back and surprised me by twisting my wrist under me so it hurt.  I really liked that.  And once, after he threw me, I was lying on my back getting my bearings and catching my breath, and he just told me to get up because I was smiling which meant I was fine (or, you know, for other reasons).  But he was amused with the situation, too.  I think we both enjoy the dynamic that’s created when we work together.

When he was teaching me how to hit, he showed me a few ways to do it.  One of them was using the hand as a sort of whip and making the impact with the fingertips.  When he showed me that one, he actually hit me.  And it stung and was awesome and I spaced out a bit.  And then I tried to focus because he’s my favorite teacher and I wanted to please him and do what he was asking.  But it took a minute to get focused after that.

A lot of times, our punches get weak because we know they won’t connect with the person before a defensive move happens.  Our teacher doesn’t like when we do that, though; he wants us to actually give a good attack.  So sometimes when he’s supposed to defend against us, he won’t do the move until we’ve actually punched him once.

It generally takes me a few tries to hit him because I’m so used to giving bad punches.  But something about his attitude and how he’ll push my hand away when I do it wrong stirs up competitiveness in me, and once that is stirred, I am going to hit him as hard as I can.  And I’m going to pull my hand back as fast as I can so the force can double.  And my intent is to cause as much pain as I can because I’m allowed to and because I feel competitive and because I just want to.  My focus narrows to a point.

I think he finds it amusing when I do that.  He finds it funny that sweet little Sonja can be aggressive.  Sometimes, he’ll jokingly warn the other students he pairs me with.

Anyways, this class has been an interesting place to explore power dynamics.  Sometimes I get the chance to be aggressive, and I really like that.  And other times, when I’ve been thinking about submitting a lot, I just relax into the feeling of someone taking control of my body and putting me into a pin.  And I’ll wait to tap the mat until the pin hurts me as much as I want it to.  It’s a nice outlet to have for the time being.

NeedleTolerance++; // !!!

I was diagnosed with needlephobia as a kid.  It might have had something to do with when the lab technicians Velcro-ed my arms and legs down for a blood draw when I was three.  I remember screaming a lot.  And I remember the feeling of helplessness.

Throughout childhood, I had to get at least one shot and one blood draw per year and the occasional IV.  I would start getting scared at least a week before I knew one of those was going to happen.

A needle counselor had given me a backpack of special toys that I only got to play with leading up to and during a needle procedure.  I think those might have made it worse.  Playing with those let me know that it was time to be scared.

I tried using a numbing cream for a while, but that contributed to the anticipation as well.  Eventually I stopped using it.

During the procedures, I would cry and scream and hide my arms.  My mom would have to hold me in place.  Once, I realized that the corner of the room provided the least access to my arms, so I ran over there and crouched down and held my arms back as far into the corner as I could push them.  One time, when I was maybe 12, I screamed so loudly the nurse had to cover her ears.  I was proud of myself then, although the terror was still the more prevalent emotion; I had managed to delay the event that I usually had no control over, so my strategy had effectively achieved the goal.  I never got out of eventually being poked, though.

As a teenager, the crying and screaming was replaced by crying and hyperventilating and shaking.  I handled it a bit better, but it was still an ordeal of building up the courage to sit still and let the nurse do the procedure.  It helped when my mom wasn’t there; when she was there, I illogically felt embarrassed to act differently than I did as a kid; I never wanted her to see when things about me changed.

As an adult, I’ve learned to handle shots.  I still get fairly anxious when it’s about to happen, but it helps if the nurse talks me through it and I don’t look.

Blood draws are still pretty hard, though.  Even more than the pain of it (which isn’t good pain – no masochism there), I hate the idea that there is a piece of metal inside my arm that is NOT SUPPOSED to be there.  After blood draws, the nurses always congratulate me for handling it better than most patients by holding so still.  Yeah!  Because I’m terrified that if I move, that needle is going to stab OTHER things inside my arm!

Since I started exploring BDSM, I’ve been curious about whether I could change my perspective on needle procedures.  Maybe I could talk myself into thinking of it as practicing submission through fear.  And maybe I could look at the pain and fear objectively; maybe I could explore them in the same way I’ve explored other types of pain recently.  I haven’t had needed any shots or blood draws lately, though.

However, as I was going through some boxes, I found my old blood sugar testing kit.  My doctor wanted me to test my blood sugar for a few weeks when I was a teenager.  My mom told me I had to do it, so I sat on the couch for maybe half an hour crying and trying to push the darn button that would make the little needle shoot out and prick my finger.  Eventually, I accidentally did it.  Maybe because I was trembling enough to trigger the button.  My blood sugar level was totally normal, which I made sure my mom knew.  I didn’t do any more blood sugar testing after that.  The ordeal was too much.

But when I found the kit, I thought I might like to try it again.  So I could prove to myself I could do it now.  And to study the pain I’d been so scared of.

As I set up the needle device and washed my finger, it didn’t seem like too big a deal.  I would just put it up to my finger and push the button.  But I couldn’t do it.  I would put it on my finger, then think about what I was doing, and I couldn’t convince myself to do it.  I would imagine what it would feel like and would be horrified that I was about to put metal inside me and make myself bleed.

I kept trying for 15 minutes or so.  I tried to tell myself to do it on “three,” but I would say “one” and lose courage.  I washed a part on my arm to see if I could try it there, but I couldn’t do it there either.

I took it off my arm and pushed the button in the air a few times.  I couldn’t even see the needle come out.  It seemed like a little less of a big deal then.

Blood drops not proportional to fear experienced to get them.

Sometime after that, I put it on my arm and pushed.  I can’t remember pushing the button or what I was thinking before I did it.  I think that was the key to it: I wasn’t thinking about it.  But afterward, I was surprised that I hadn’t even felt anything.  I tried it on my finger and didn’t feel anything either.  After that, it was much easier to push the button.

The device has a range of seven depth settings.  I’d started on the shallowest one, but turned it up to 2 and tried again.  I think it finally drew blood on my arm at level 3.  By 4, it made my finger hurt, but not my arm.  I went up to 7 on my arm before it hurt a bit.  It was so empowering to keep pushing the button and watching the blood and to not feel fear.  Between my fingers and my arm, I probably did it about fifteen times.

The needle pricks hardly hurt at all.  I had remembered that it didn’t hurt when I was a teenager, but that hadn’t made my fear less now.  I think I’m more scared of the idea of needles than I am of any sort of pain.

I was surprised at the amount of fear I had when I actually tried to use the needle.  That fear doesn’t leave much room for imagining submission situations.

I don’t know if being able to poke my fingers and arms like this will help me handle other needle procedures; the other needles hurt more and go deeper and have more pre-poke rituals designed to increase anticipation and fear (or to increase sterility, but it depends on your point of view).

But I’m pretty excited that I was able to overcome a needle situation from my past; it caused so much fear then, but tonight I was able to do it several times until the fear was completely gone.  It makes me feel powerful within myself.  In my triumph, I can shout, “Ha!  Take THAT needlephobia!”

First Impact Play

I went to the CSPC for the first time last Tuesday.  They had a “tasting” event where there were stations set up to try several different BDSM activities.

I tried some bondage and a suspension, but there’s just not much to those for me without a power dynamic involved; the fact that I wanted to be tied, and knowing that I could ask to be untied at any point, defeats the purpose.  With a Dom, I think it could be fun, though.

Most notably, I tried some impact play.  After the play party I went to, I’d been hoping to see what a flogger and other things felt like.

The person at the impact station had me hold on to this frame thing.  Then he showed me some implement and I’d say okay or something and then he’d use it a bit.  We tried out a lot of the things he had.

I’ve tended to like stingy feelings more than thuddy feelings, but I was really curious to see what thuddy pain felt like.  When he used thuddy things, they  would maybe give me a jolt forward, but it took quite a while before they hurt.  I think I was okay with that pain when it came.  I really don’t remember what it felt like.  But I like the idea of it more now, so I guess I liked it.

I can’t really recall a point when I really enjoyed the impact play, though.  It kind of went from where it didn’t hurt to me being analytically interested in the feelings to trying to cope with pain that had gotten to the point of unpleasantness.

I was okay with it being unpleasant; I’d wanted to see what it would be like when it got to that point.  I can’t remember a lot of it.  But I remember him slapping my back some where it was already sore, and I didn’t like the sting; it was getting harder to deal with.  And toward the end, he wrapped this rubber thing around me and snapped it on my back three times.  That sort of thing would have been exciting and thrilling earlier.  But at that point, all I did was focus on trying to breathe out when it hit so I could cope with it better.  No thrill, just survival instincts.

Overall, the experience wasn’t very satisfying.  I’m glad that I have a bit more idea of what things feel like.  But the pain wasn’t satisfying without a complementary mindset.

I went into this with an analytical mindset.  What would these things feel like?  What would the experience be like?  Just gathering data.  I also wanted to maintain my dignity.  I didn’t want to respond to the experience in ways that showed weakness.  I wanted to be tough and be able to take it.  And I had this survival mindset (that I also get into in emergency situations): I get totally calm and analytical so I can figure out the best course of action to survive.

No submission.  No trust.  Just relying on myself.

I think that in a scene with someone I knew, I would want to focus on deliberately letting go of the pride I hold onto and allowing myself to vocalize my reactions; I’d want to allow myself to be weak.  And I would want to trust them and not just rely on my survival instincts.  I would want to relax into the experience given to me and not try to analyze and manage it myself so much.

It makes sense that those aspects weren’t there; I didn’t even know the person running the station.  It took me several days to figure out what mindsets I had been in and why I hadn’t really enjoyed it, though.

I was surprised that there was so much I couldn’t remember.  I didn’t feel like I was in an altered mindset at the time.  I checked myself a couple times and concluded that I still felt normal.  But it was a whole lot of new things all at once, so regardless of my mindset, it makes sense that I wouldn’t remember everything.

At one point during the play, the guy said that this wasn’t really a tasting anymore.  So I’m not sure how to classify my experience.  I wonder how close it was in intensity to a scene (which I’m sure have all different intensities anyways).  I wouldn’t know.  I’m curious to know how it compared to a scene, though, so I could better know what a scene might be like.

A few hours afterward.

I had bruises, and I liked them.  I liked pushing my shoulders back toward each other so I could feel them better.  They healed pretty quickly, though.  After five days, I couldn’t see or feel them anymore.

Unfortunately, the marks on my arms from the play party are still quite visible.  I’m a bit tired of wearing a jacket around my house all the time.

I’m glad that I did the impact play.  I’m glad to have an experience to compare things against.  And I’m glad to have some idea of what it’s like at the point where the pain stops being pleasant.  I’m curious about exploring that more sometime.  Preferably when submission in a relationship is involved.

And I’m glad I finally saw the CSPC so I know what people are talking about.  It’s much smaller and cozier than I’d expected.  The outside, though, looks pretty sketchy.  I walked past the doors with “Library” and “Annex” on them and had the distinct feeling that I was in a game of Clue, and if I went through the library door I’d get decked with a candlestick or something.


I hope this post wasn’t too scattered.  It’s been hard to get one coherent line of thought on all this.

First Play Party

After going to my first munch a couple weeks ago, I decided that I should wait a while before watching anyone play in real life.  Even though I’m interested in pain for myself, I felt like I might react badly to seeing someone else get hurt.

Last night, though, I went to the TNG munch, and some of the people there were going to an afterparty.  At first I declined, saying I was new to this and wanted to take it slow.  But I really wanted to see what it was like.  There was one pair of people there who said they were in a D/s relationship, and I watched them like a hawk just to see if I could learn anything about what that was like in real life.

I eventually wanted to go enough that I convinced myself.  I felt okay about going, and I’d be driving myself, so I could leave quickly if I wasn’t able to handle something.  It was at someone’s house, and not at the CSPC, so maybe it wasn’t the best choice for a first event, but I’d connected with some people at the munch who were going, so it seemed okay to go.

It felt weird walking into a stranger’s house, but the people there were nice.  I watched a girl strip and get tied up with rope, which was interesting.  Pretty much everyone stripped eventually, and, surprisingly, I didn’t really have a problem with it.  I’m not sure why, since I’d have thought I’d be really uncomfortable with that.  I kept my clothes on, though.

I went back upstairs, and some people were demonstrating some rope techniques.  One lady was hovering over the two pairs of people to get a good look so she could try it sometime.  So I asked if she wanted to try it now.  She made some comment along the lines of, “Oh, that sounds like an eager bottom,” and so I let her tie my hands. 

She tied them in front of me so the backs of my hands were against each other.  I got turned on almost right away.  Not from her, I don’t go for females, but I’d just wanted to try this stuff for so long and was excited to finally try it.

When she was finished, she took the ends of the rope, maybe a couple feet worth, and led me to a different part of the room.  I was kind of embarrassed about that, but was willing to do it.  She tried to make some sort of harness from the ends, but they were too short.

We sat back down and she sat there holding the ends, and – I was surprised – I really liked that.  I mean, I’d read about how people have felt when someone holds their leash, but it seemed a little strange to me; it wasn’t like they were even doing anything.  But I definitely liked the feeling that someone else had that control, even passively.  Maybe especially because it was passively.  Maybe the passiveness makes it feel more real, and not just played.

After a bit, she untied my hands and, after confirming that I wanted to, had me grasp my forearms behind my back, and she tied me that way.  She ran the ends of the rope over my shoulders and under the opposite arms, so there was a bit of a harness.  This position stretched my shoulders and upper arms back a bit, but wasn’t too uncomfortable.

When I’d been like that for maybe 20 minutes, someone glanced over and asked if I was still in the same harness I’d been in.  When I said that I was, that person said I would be a good rope bottom.  I’m not sure what that meant.  Don’t a lot of people stay tied up for a while?

I tried to free my arms because I wanted to know that I couldn’t.  I would have been disappointed if I could.  I did manage to get one of my hands halfway free while the lady who tied me had her attention elsewhere.  I gave myself bruises in the process, but I was determined to see if I could get out.

That lady had brought a toy with her that looked like a conductor’s baton, but was springy and very thin.  I’d hinted at her trying it on me earlier, so when she saw that I’d gotten partway out, she pretended to “punish” me by snapping it a couple times on my back over my shirt.  It was stingy, but I liked it.  My hand was starting to get cold, though, since I’d tightened the rope in my struggles, so she had to stop and untie me.

Then I finally got to see my first scene.  The Dom/sub pair I’d been watching started spanking some and playing with a crop.  The sub was crying out even when he was just spanking her.  It didn’t seem that hard from what I could hear, but I haven't experienced that, so I wouldn't know.  As they continued playing, he started slapping and punching between her legs, and he put clothespins on different parts of her and knocked them off with the crop.

I didn’t react how I’d feared I would.  I just sat there enjoying it with this silly half grin.  Even when she had trouble taking it and would whimper or ask him not to do something (but not in a safeword sort of way), I didn’t have a problem with it.

After they’d finished, I went back downstairs and there were two guys doing an impact scene.  I watched, fascinated.  The bottom could take quite a bit.  They went through several different toys.

I liked the demeanor of the top.  He was very focused, and didn’t react when the bottom reacted, although he did check in with him occasionally.  He would get this look when the bottom would move out of position, and I liked that look a lot.  He would get this calculating look about how he could cause the most pain.  Afterward, he said something about how the bottom was really experienced, and he’d tried to get to the level of pain the bottom wanted.

Tic-Tac-Toe.  Winner gets to make the next board!

The lady who had tied me earlier had also been watching this scene.  She still had her toy with her, and I asked her if we could play with it, and I held my arms out for her (the only uncovered part of me).  She obliged, and it felt awesome.  The sting would start and then build up for a few seconds.  It felt even better when she did several in a row, so I could feel multiple locations increasing in intensity at once.  She made a Tic-Tac-Toe board on my arm in welts.  She snapped it once near the tops of each of my shoulders, which hurt more, but felt really good.

I didn’t give any reaction to most of what she did.  It hurt, but not beyond what I was able to easily process.  I think I was kind of drawing inside myself to focus on the pain.  I only reacted a couple times to some of the stingier ones, and even then, I just said “oh” softly, still smiling.  I wonder if I’ll have to try to speak up more if I’m in an actual scene.  I know I need to give the top feedback so they can know what they’re doing, and it’s probably kind of boring if the bottom doesn’t react at all.

Time for long sleeves...

When she finished, I wasn’t ready to stop, but she was done.  I showed off the welts to a few people.  I liked them.  I didn’t know I’d like marks, but I was proud of them.  And it was fun to see people react.

The party started slowing down, and a bunch of couples started getting more intimate with each other.  I haven’t been around people having sex before, but, surprisingly, I wasn’t very uncomfortable with it.  I guess I was just ready to accept anything I saw in this environment.

I sat next to the Dom/sub couple I’d watched.  We talked about types of pain, and I mentioned that I wondered what a crop felt like.  The Dom guy said he could try it on me for demonstration purposes, so I held out my arm, and after asking if it was okay, he showed me a few different feelings from stingy to thuddy.

He hit my arm with the crop a couple times, and it felt good.  It wasn’t nearly as stingy as the baton thing had been, but I could tell that it would get harder to take after a few hits.  Then he slapped my arm there with his hand.  Then he put on this glove he had and slapped my arm with that.  Then he made his gloved hand into a fist and hit my arm with the flat part of his fingers a couple times.

I hadn’t actually expected him to do stuff besides the crop, so it was kind of bad that I hadn’t specifically given permission to him to do the other stuff.  But I think he must have thought the permission extended that far.  I was a little uncomfortable that that happened, but it was accidental, so I don’t think it’s a big deal.  I could have told him to stop if I’d wanted him to.

I didn’t much like the thuddy feeling from after he put the glove on.  I’m still interested in experimenting with it sometime, though.  My arm still has a bit of a bruised feeling from that, although hardly any bruise actually showed up.  I like that it still hurts some afterward.

When I was about to leave, I went downstairs to get some water, and saw a girl I’d met finishing up flogging a guy.  After they were done, and she was cuddling with him, I went to say bye to her, and said something like, “I guess I’m gonna head out now, unless…”  After an awkward pause, I mentioned that I was really interested in what floggers feel like, but said that it seemed like she was preoccupied.  She agreed to try it with me, though.

I still didn’t want to undress, so I pulled the back of my shirt over my head and tucked it around the front of my neck, so I was still covered in front.  I had her undo my bra strap so the flogger wouldn’t get caught on it.  I wasn’t uncomfortable with that, surprisingly, probably because most everyone else was almost nude.

It was a leather flogger with maybe a centimeter width strands, so it was made to have a thuddy feel to it.  I would have preferred to try a stingy sensation, but that’s what was there.

I got turned on just from getting into position for her to use the flogger.  I was so excited to finally try it.

She started out slowly, and I could hardly feel anything at all.  She checked with me a couple times and increased the intensity, but it still didn’t hurt at all.  I could feel the pressure from it, but there was no pain.  Only in the last few swings before she stopped was there any sort of pain, but it was only a little bit stingy; I guess she did it hard enough that there was a sting to it.  But there was no pain from the thuddy feeling at all.

She said she wasn’t that experienced with a flogger, and she could try really going at it, but she would rather me leave feeling like it didn’t hurt than risking something bad happening.  I agreed, but was disappointed.  I headed out after that.

At the party, I felt okay with everything that happened, but as I drove away, I had mixed feelings.  I still felt really excited about finally getting to try stuff and see what BDSM was like in real life.  But I also started feeling guilty.  I had decided before to take it slowly, but I let my emotions drive me to do what I hadn’t yet decided on beforehand.  Nothing bad happened,  but because I did this before I’d made a logical decision about it, it bothered me.

I slept restlessly.  I never sleep well when I go to bed that late, plus I had all these new experiences to think about.  But the guilt had mostly faded by the time I woke up.  I still have mixed feelings about what happened, but it did happen, and I’m glad to have finally experienced this.

I thought I would need to take this slowly, but the anticipation was getting to me more than I accounted for.  I think it was good to “rip off the Band-Aid” and finally see (and experience a little) what it is I’ve been imagining so much.  I feel relieved to have a real life reference point to put BDSM in context.

On relaxing walks and mindfucks

My mind’s been overstimulated lately; I’ve been constantly thinking of different situations that could come up in a D/s relationship and how I would struggle internally to work through them.  I want so much to be in situations where I can face that struggle.  And I keep reading stories online to see how other peoples’ relationships work.  And I keep feeling intense longing to be in a relationship like those.  And I keep wanting to talk to people about BDSM and learn more.

I’m constantly thinking about this stuff to the point where it’s hard to give my mind a rest even for a minute.  And when there’s that much going on in my mind without a rest, I start getting mentally numb, and I still feel like I have needs to fulfill, but I can’t even think of what they are anymore.  I end up wanting to talk to people even more, because talking with people can help me sort out my thoughts.  But if I can’t find people to talk to when that happens, I can start feeling upset and depressed.

I was at that point yesterday.  I didn’t sleep that well, and woke up at six this morning.  Usually when that happens, I get some water and try to go back to sleep, but I felt rested this morning.  I enjoyed the feeling of being up early and decided to go for a walk.  Walking, for me, is how I can really spend time with God.  It’s calming, and there usually aren’t many people around so I can talk to God out loud without too many people thinking I’m crazy.  And it’s good to be outside and get some exercise and fresh air.

Lately, when I’ve gone for walks, I’ve had trouble focusing on talking with God.  My mind has just kept drifting back to all the BDSM fantasies and concepts I’m working through.  I’ve tried to just spend time with God without thinking about BDSM so much, but it’s hard to snap my mind out of that mode.

Today, though, God helped me with that.  I was thinking about how I missed being able to just relax my mind and not think so much.  When I could enjoy the scenery around me and take joy in that without it just being the background to my thoughts.  At that point, I felt like God was prompting me to just listen to the sounds around me and focus on them.  There were birds and traffic, and it did actually help me relax my mind; tuning into sound, rather than sight, is a refreshing shift of consciousness.

I got to the park that I walk laps around, and no one was there, which was nice.  I sang the songs that came to my head, and reflected and talked and with God about our relationship.  I was enjoying just resting in us being together.  I was still focusing on sounds, and that helped.

I’ve started seeing that my relationship with God works like a D/s relationship; it was always that way, I just have words for it now.  I also have more ideas to try out, since I’ve seen the ways people have D/s relationships.  In the throes of feeling secure in our relationship, and thinking in terms of BDSM sessions, I asked, “God, take me!”  It’s not like we haven’t had intense trust-building and spiritually pleasurable experiences before, but I just had a new way to ask for it this time.

Then I remembered (and started playing) a game I like, where I close my eyes and keep walking and just rest in knowing that God takes care of me.  I pay attention to how my steps feel to know if I’ve gone off the path or something.  Walking without seeing is an awesome feeling.  I love the feeling of trust it can evoke.

I did this for a bit, occasionally opening my eyes when I got too far off the path, which was bordered by grass on both sides.  Then I got to a straight section, and went for longer without opening them.  It was on the side of the park that’s near some houses, and I started thinking about how someone could be on the path in front of me and I wouldn’t know.  They could be a rapist or something.  But then I settled back into trusting God; God and I were spending time together and anything that happened would be something that He wanted to happen.  And if He wanted me to run into a rapist and get attacked, then that was fine because I know that when we’re spending time together, God takes care of me and is in control; I believe he honors my gift of trusting that He’s in control by taking it up fully.

So if He wanted me to run into a rapist, that was fine.  It was then that I ran into a chain-link fence.

My eyes snapped open as chills raced up and down my entire body.  I was momentarily stunned, but then started laughing when I realized what had happened.  I laughed for a while, and then felt closer to God for it.

You see, one of the BDSM things I’ve been reading about lately is mindfucks.  I’m really fascinated by the idea.

I might want to try it sometime if I’ve already been in a long-term relationship for a long time and my Dom knows me really, really well.  It’s kind of weird that I’m so intrigued with the idea because I feel that honesty so absolutely important in relationships, and mindfucks are inherently based on some form of deception.  Maybe I like it because I’d have to trust them beyond my reliance on honesty.  And I want to be stretched in my level of trust.  Or maybe it’s because I feel that giving psychological control adds another level of intimacy to the relationship.  I seek that sort of intimacy.

In any case, I’m fascinated by them, and I think it’s really cool that God wanted to do that with me.  All the components of a mindfuck were there.   Not being able to see reality.  The power of suggestion.  The mind creating a different reality to compensate for lack of sight.  A bit of fear mixed with trust.  And then a sensation that convinces you that what has been suggested has just happened.  That moment of “Holy crap!  What?!”  And then realizing how you were led to believe a reality that was never really there.  It was awesome.

In a way, it felt like a practical joke between friends; friends who really trust each other.  It felt playful.  It was fun.

I continued walking.  Near the end of my walk, I started thinking about how much I’ve been longing for these D/s relationships I read about.  I don’t think that’s bad.  But when I start forgetting that I already have this sort of relationship and that it’s a really, really fulfilling relationship, then I’ve lost sight of what’s really important.  It’s good to look forward to what I want later, but I need to be happy with where I am now.  I need to enjoy this wonderful relationship I get to have with God.  I need to keep working on my relationship with Him, even while I’m waiting to experience the human analogue to that relationship.

Out of balance

A couple months ago, I decided that with all the changes going on with me right now, my emotional and spiritual well-being needed to take precedence over school.

There’s been so much to sort through, though.  I’ve given a lot of time to exploring the desires that I repressed for years.  And I’ve spent time envisioning what it might be like to be in a BDSM relationship.  And I’ve also been reevaluating my past in the newly recognized context of power-sensitivity.

Besides working through BDSM-related things, I’ve also been trying to join in the culture around me, which I’ve always tried to avoid; I’m trying to trust God with the control I’ve exercised over what influences me.  I think it’s important to be able to relate to the people around me.

Unfortunately, all this has made more of an impact on my schoolwork than I expected, and it caught up with me yesterday.  I managed to not notice the registration date for next quarter, and when I finally did register, two of the three classes I needed were totally full.  And I got a paper back that I thought was well done, but got less than a 50%.  That’s unusual for me.  I usually do pretty well with school.

I was already getting burned out on school before accepting my sexuality, but this is too much.  I can’t get this disconnected from school and still finish.  I need to find a way to balance all the new things in my life with the old (and still important) ones.

On that note, I need to go finish (and start) a couple of neglected assignments that are due tomorrow.  Ugh.

BDSM and My Relationship with God

I haven’t known anyone else who experiences their relationship with God like I do.

Growing up, I latched on to the parts of Christian scriptures and songs that dealt with submission, trust, and suffering for God. I’ve had (nearly) romantic fantasies of giving up everything, living on the street, and trusting God to provide for my every need. I’ve prayed fervently, many times, for God to do anything to me or let anything happen to me that would cause me to be closer to Him.

I felt that it was a common and easy thing to love God because he does stuff for you. That’s what most people seem to do. But love, it seems to me, can most truly be shown when it causes some sort of suffering to do so.

I wanted so much to have the opportunity to show my love for God in this way. I wanted to live in a country where Christians are persecuted because I could rely on God more and be closer to Him. I felt that those Christians were more blessed because they could have that closer relationship with God. And that idea seemed supported by Bible verses that talk about the least being blessed and all. I wanted to be the least.

When people would ask for me to pray for something or for someone to get better, I wouldn’t pray for that. I would pray (in my head) that whichever outcome would allow them to get closest to God would happen. Being close to God was the ultimate good; the things people wanted prayers for were secondary to that.

This is the sort of relationship I have with God. It is the most important thing to me, the most important part of me. I could say so much more about it, but I’m trying to be brief.

When my masochistic desires flared up stronger than ever in college, I began to act on them and read stories about them. However, I felt that they couldn’t be right and it must be sinful to act on them. And because I kept choosing to sin even though I wanted to be close to God, I must be choosing those desires over God and injuring my relationship with Him. I felt awful about it.

Toward the end of the five years I struggled with that, I was at a point where I felt like my relationship with God wasn’t as good as it had been, and that left spiritual needs unfulfilled. I felt like when I acted on my desires, I must be trying to fill those needs that God should be filling. I felt that acting on my desires was a perversion of my relationship with God. I felt that a perversion of my relationship with God was the worst sort of insult I could give Him.

I really wanted to talk to someone, so they could help me stop acting on my desires, but I couldn’t think of anyone appropriate to talk to. However, I recently remembered meeting a Christian sex educator, and I re-connected with her on Facebook. I sent her a long message detailing the desires I’d had as a child and how they developed in adulthood.

I had started to suspect that some of the things I was feeling might be okay; there were other people who had these desires, after all. However, I was shocked when she replied and said that everything I’d been feeling was okay. Everything was okay? Yes, everything, she confirmed. I wasn’t harming anyone, so it was okay.

When I started thinking of my desires as okay, it didn’t take me long to see that they weren’t a perversion of my relationship with God at all; they were a reflection of it. And I think that a marriage is a reflection of relationship with God, so then it would be okay if these desires were present in a marriage. No, not just okay: beautiful! Oh so beautiful, because that sort of marriage could reflect my specific and unique relationship with God, which was already based on BDSM-style intimacy.

The most important thing in my life finally fit with my sexuality, and I didn’t have to condemn myself for my desires anymore. It was so liberating and stunning and beautiful. The time spent with God that night was intimate for sure.