Closer to the Edge

When I was growing up in a small town in Texas, music was a way that I was able to connect with the right side of my brain and discover ways to cope with the mental anguish I was suffering through.  The Cher album "Living Proof" had been one of the albums that really helped me through some difficult times....in particular, the track "Song for the Lonely."

Since the beginning of this year, I have endured quite a bit of suffering and my ego has been broken.  I have felt some of the deepest sorrows, deep love, and quite a bit of self doubt regarding my future and what I've been doing with the past 8 years of my life in undergrad and graduate school.  So I started therapy this year, and it has been incredible.  Lately the band "Thirty Seconds to Mars" has been one of those bands whose songs have helped me endure, learn more about myself, and to cope with the intense emotions I've been feeling.  I've been trying to figure out who I am...to remove the masks I've worn since I was 14.  The religious, family masks, professional masks and the expectations of everyone around me.  In the past year I've shed my former religious beliefs and have been trying to figure out what I believe...what I believe without the lenses I was forced into as a child.

It's been hard.  I'd love to say I've come to some place of understanding or a place of piece where I can say without a doubt that I know what I believe or who I am.  I can't say that.  But I have found things that speak to me more than others.  And I hope it continues.

Fifty Shades

Anyone in the BDSM world has probably read BDSM fiction long before it was made popular and mainstream (Fifty Shades of Grey, anyone?).  Way back in the late 50's, a French book called "The Story of O" shocked many people (and to this day is one of my favorite books on my shelf).

I picked up the "Fifty Shades" trilogy though, because I love romance novels and also because I love power dynamics.  While I could turn this into a book report, I won't.  I am almost done with the second book of the trilogy, but what stands out the most to me is how much I identify with the characters.  Granted, the female lead characters "on again, off again" attraction to kink is off putting, as is her blatant disrespect and the games she plays with the Male Dom in the story.  But regardless, there is something underneath it that stands out to me.

The two characters playful banter back and forth, the way you clearly see the Dominant man is basically in charge in a protective manner (and usually sexually as well)...but there is also this constant checking in...a sense of "I want to take care of you, protect you" and the female lead hopes, someday even love her.  The Dom so clearly wants her to be happy, and also refers to himself as "Fifty shades of fucked up" (hence the title)...not fucked up because of his desire to inflict pain, but his past.  Like any good character, his great looks and charm hides a dark side, a dark painful past he's trying to move past and she cannot understand.  She also struggles with the common "Why would someone who has everything, looks, money, power, fame, ect, love her?"   She is not a submissive really, she does not get into the heavy BDSM that he is used to....and yet, they both work through their inadequate feelings and become closer.

I feel like, in my own life, that I took am fifty shades of fucked up.  I carry within me a degree of self-loathing from childhood that I have never really shaken.  A past of relationships where I felt used, and happy to be used, as long as the other would love me.  But I didn't know what love was.  I confused attention (bad or good) for affection, genuine attraction for novelty, and to this day I carry around a peace keeping attitude only the child of an alcoholic could have.  In my household, I "check in" on my roommates, I ask them how they are...when they say "Fine" and its clear from their tone they are not, I shift into that "how can I help" mode that only pushes most men away.

The nightmares of my inadequacy, self-loathing, and doubt in myself are like specters that haunt my life.  They have haunted me since childhood.  And yet, on some nights, I still wake up screaming in a cold sweat.

~bailey

Why melancholia is healthy at times

The word melancholia is one of those words that brings with it significant weight.  The American Heritage Medical Dictionary defines it as : A mental disorder characterized by depression, apathy, and withdrawal.

I feel melancholic, and have felt that way for a few weeks.  I told my therapist this, how I dread going into work.  Not because of my work load or my clients, but the politics and the negativity.  It drains me in a way it hadn't before.  Maybe my therapist was right, that when I stopped hiding from my emotions and took my mask off it'd hurt more, it'd drain more, and it'd make my home life more depressing.  And yet at the same time I find it also more real.  I have my own room now, my own bed...my own space.  I sleep better at night and even though my health has consistently fallen in the past few weeks, I still FEEL better and more rested.

I've disconnected socially though.  It's hard to return emails.  It's hard, but I force myself to go to school, to attend class and not to skip work.  I read more.  And I find myself CRAVING affection and sexual attention.  Not sex per say, but that "need" to feel lusted after and attractive.  Maybe I'm low on testosterone.  Maybe its because I'm 27 and have never really had an "active" sex life save for weekends visiting someone a couple times per year.  It's not that I'm not horny, I just dont have an outlet.  I'm too self conscious about my skin due to my psoriasis to hook up with people I dont know, and people I do know either live too far away to do anything, or want nothing to do with me sexually.  Even roleplaying online, sexting or that sort would do it, but they want real life or nothing.  Even Sir often says "You'll be here soon, then we'll have fun" and I know he's telling me the truth.  I also know that doesn't help at all in the moment since I'm feeling lonely and horny.

Anyway, this disconnect is a combination of being overwhelmed with my family drama (my bio-dad), work drama (politics, changes, and culture), school drama (suicide and interpersonal issues) and my home life (finding out things I feared and feeling like I'm not wanted here).  So then why, as my title says, am I saying it might be healthy?  Because I'm doing a ton of work in therapy, and I'm working to understand how my past experiences with my family, society, and religion have affected me.  I've already become a little more comfy praying to a higher power that works for me that isn't steeped in hatred.  I still struggle with practicing in my home as I have two roommates who would make fun of me...but I'm working on changing my response to that too.  We shall see.  But regardless of what happens, things will work out, somehow.

Movement

Movement is painful, change hurts...but today in therapy my shrink helped me realize a lot of things about myself.

I'm a bit tired tonight...but I'm going to try and write more.  Engage my creative side to exorcise some of these demons.  We'll see how it goes.

Wounded Healers

Meet Chiron:

Chiron is the archetype of the wounded healer from Greek mythology.  In shamanistic cultures (The Celts, Siberian tribes, and many American Indian tribes similarly use different images, but same overall idea), a shaman is a wounded healer who uses his knowledge of pain, suffering, and sickness to heal those around him.

When reading By Oak, Ash, and Thorn by DJ Conway, he touches upon this component of shamanism in such a way that touched me the moment I read it.  In psychology Jung had a similar idea that we shared a collective suffering that healers touched upon to heal those in the community.  While modern psychology fears this (psychologists are supposed to be perfect and realized and not have the problems their clients do), my experience has taught me (as has my supervisors) that the best psychologists are those that have endured suffering in their lives.  They are the ones that truly empathize and honor the pain of others while similarly not patronizing their suffering.  The Gestaltists had a similar world view.

I mention these because I found myself talking to my own therapist and my supervisor about my own suffering, and both agreed that I was talking healthy steps.  My therapist said I was a two-spirit and that I had an "Indian heart", a very beautiful honor I must say.  But the wounded healer is also a caveat in many ways.  For the medicine to be effective, Chiron had to give up his immortality to save others and become a good healer.  Last night I had dreams in my new space I created.  I don't remember much of them, but I remember having them which is a huge plus for me. My enneagram is a type 4, something I'm told is rare but very powerful.

http://www.enneagramworldwide.com/explore-the-enneagram/tour-the-nine-types/enneagram-type-4.php

You can read more about them there.  The more I read and learn, the more I want to embrace the creative side I had as a kid.  I wrote and drew a lot, even though my drawings and writings were often characterized by longing and pain.  I want to make my own dream catcher for my new room above the bed.  That will be my first step.  I'll write more later, I need to get back to work.

A rambling post where my head is at

I was thinking about this  a lot in the middle of the night last night...but I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed and type it.  A lot has happened emotionally in my life in the past couple of weeks (and truthfully, the past year).

One of my professors committed suicide.  Half of the mental health staff at the clinic I work at gave their notice for the end of May.  And in my own life I've been trying to decide where to go next, what to do, how to feel.

One of the things I come up with a lot is my health and the problems I have that no mid to late 20 something should have.  My psoriasis gives me very bad physical pain and unattractive parts of my body most of the time.  I'm terribly self conscious about my puppy parts because frankly, that's where the psoriasis is the worst.  Aside from health problems I cannot fix, I tend to drink in what might be seen as an unhealthy way.  I don't get enough sleep.  I put on a few pounds that I'm having a hard time losing, ect.  To add to those things, my time in therapy is productive but also leaving me with more questions than answers and digging up painful memories of my past.

Last night I noticed Facebook kept wanting me to be friends with someone I knew to be the current partner of an ex of mine.  This ex and I split on very bad terms due to his infidelity and inability to be honest with me.  I found myself navigating to said ex's facebook page where I found images of him and his partner at leather conferences with his partner as his public puppy.  His involvement with the local leather bar, his successes as it were...and what I found was that I was a little jealous but mostly bitter.  I wasn't jealous of him or his partner as I don't want him back or anything of the sort.  But I was jealous because (like my most recent ex) this guy went out after we broke up and did the very things with others he told me he'd never do with me because he wasn't "into that sort of thing" or didnt do "public things" like that.  Which threw me into a bit of a spin where I was like "What is it about me?" I write this not because I want pity, but because it really brought up something my therapist often says to me too.  Namely that I tend to date emotionally unavailable men who want the "conquest" of me, but after that initial rush is over, they go on to the next thing.  I see that point.  My last 2 relationships match up well with that statement.  But why after me do those ex's date people, do things with them they would never do with me, and it last?

I feel like this is something I need to figure out.  Some people spend their lives searching for themselves in promiscuous sex, drugs, or other pursuits never to find who they really are.  I have a friend or two like that.  No sexual experience is satisfying, it could always be a little more perfect like the fantasies in his head.  But I have fantasies similar to their fantasies.  The difference is that as much as I want to go out and get laid, to have lots of fun sex, guys just dont look at me that way.  I'm not even saying I want random, anonymous sex.  I just want to feel like someone really wants to have sex with me, skin and all.  And that the want is strong enough not to simply be a "If you were here in person, then i'd have sex with you, but I'm not going to talk to you about it or fantasize about something that isn't actually happening".  A lot of guys who can and do get laid a lot tend to have that attitude.  When Sir and I are together in person, its magical.  The sex is fantastic, I feel loved and wanted and appreciated, and I have a great time.  I've never been drunk around him even.  But when I'm on the opposite coast, sometimes I want to just sit at my computer, have a few strong drinks and just watch tv.   I watch the ex I live with go out for play dates and hang out with people in a way he never did when we were together.  I watch my roommate chat online, go to play parties, hook up with people he hardly knows or knows well but rarely sees...and I'm at home alone.  People are shocked when they find out him and I have never had sex.  He made it clear that was never going to happen with me, so I quit asking and eventually found a way to reconcile that emotional desire to be close to him with reality.

This is a massive rambling post.  I guess what I'm saying is I need direction in my life.  I want direction and discipline.  Don't get me wrong, I love drinking.  But some days that pour is strong because I want to laugh again, to rekindle the fire I have inside that comes out when I'm with Sir.  On my plane trips home from seeing him, the rum flows because I'm in mourning for him and that I have to stuff my feelings and expression back into a box and hide it.  Every time I text him or facetime with him or even email him, my thoughts are of fun stuff I want to share with him, how much I miss him, sexy things Id like to do with him, and how much I love him.  But I only share pieces of it, because you can only whine about being lonely so much before people push you away, and I don't want him to see me as always being depressed or mopey.  I'm a fun drunk in many ways.  I laugh (a lot) I giggle at things, I'm touchy feely and very hands on with people.  But at home I'm nervous and afraid a lot.  When I drink, that relaxes some and I let some of myself out...but then I get dirty looks and told that I'm being too loud.  So I keep it inside.  And the laughing, happy drunk puppy becomes a sad, hurting puppy who just wants to be held.  My therapist says I want friends more than anything else in the world.  It's true, I do.  But its hard to make friends when you don't know who you are, when you are a wannabe, or simply trying to be authentic.  It's hard to be authentic when you don't know who you are or live in an environment where people don't want you to act yourself.

The real me would want to laugh, regular sex, a spiritual sexuality and a spirituality he could practice openly without it being mocked.  He'd want small intimate group moments, even with Sir and one or two other people to play together.  He'd value being open about his sexuality and lifestyle, where he could live and exist in a household were sex and feelings were open and not hidden away to the bed room.  I'm a sexual person, its important to me, the same as power dynamics and submission are important to me.  Where my laughing, odd sense of humor, or desire to be close, be held, or simply be quiet next to someone I trusted was endearing rather than weird.  The painful part of leaving Sir's home is that I get a lot of that when I visit.  I know things come in time, but thats easier to say when you live in a place where you have or can have all of that.  Where I live currently...I have Bacardi to numb out how miserable I am most days.  I numb out the feeling that something is wrong with me to make those I've dated not want to do things with me when we are together.  I numb out the feeling that there's something ugly about me that makes my roommate give me the definite no to just have intimate, physical contact with him, even cuddling when I'm having a bad day.

I worry Sir is going to read this and think "That boy is a hot mess".  I know he loves me and wouldn't kick me to the curb, but it keeps running over in my head.  Submissives often seek to be perfect in the eyes of Dominant folk, and I know logically I am not a perfect person and that maybe some of my charm and beauty comes from the wounded healer...but more on that in my next post.

plane postings, post PAX

I'm writing this on April 10th, 2012 at 34,000 feet above sea level.

Below me are perfect geometric squares of farm land as I pass over the "fly over" states of the US on a cross country flight back to Portland. The captain just announced that we are directly over Fargo, North Dakota. The irony of this is not lost on me. We also have just hit a patch of turbulence. Down below us the skies are clear and I can see two fires many thousand feet below. This past period of 6 days has been world changing to say the least. I do not use that loosely either.

This past weekend was PAX East, a gaming/geek convention in Boston that Sir is particularly fond of. Initially I went mostly for Sir, to see him, support him, and experience this part of his life I rarely got to experience. It wasn't that I didn't like gaming, the opposite actually. As a boy and teenager I loved certain computer games, my SNES, and playing my Nintendo 64. Granted, I played all of these systems and games many years out of date so my experience with them was not when most people experienced them. They were cheaper when I got them, and people were often "done" with that experience. But to me they were awesome. They personified an escape for me, something I was sometimes good at simply due to my lack of anything else to do, and sometimes out of pure skill. They were also a bastion of the things my parents would let me do. My biological father was/is a very religious man who had often…deviating ideas about the things "kids" were up to. Most of these ideas came from what he heard from the preacher and I, but connection, also heard these things and had their judgment cast upon my actions.

Things like D&D, Magic the Gathering, even non-Christian folk who proudly (or did it simply out of rebellion in the Bible Belt) practiced fell under the "no no" category that I was not allowed to experience. This weekend Sir taught me to play D&D, Pathfinder, Magic the Gathering, Zombie Dice and a few other games….and on top of all of it let me see the side of him I rarely get to see. That gaming/geeky element where he is really happy and doing things he loves.

I also did some personal exploration with myself with his silent guidance this weekend. Figuring out a little more who I am, what I want, and allowing myself to relax and be myself. This was not easy. I found myself quickly looking to him, asking if what I wanted, did or said was okay. Yet, I recieved loving validation. Even when I did some things I was worried about, I was praised for my honesty and trust in bringing those concerns to him. He also held me a lot as I worked through feelings and ideas that had long sense been condemned as bad. The Celts believed self exploration was the first step in restoring harmony and that no other person, no matter how powerful or what kind of magic they possessed, could fix ones disharmony. I feel like I have made great steps in working on mine. It is not complete, but I feel much closer to my goal than I did prior.