Live or Die – That’s the Important Choice

I’m in pain. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I did something stupid on Friday. So much for impulse control being a good thing! I gave MCF a box of chocolates, left them on his desk while he was in a meeting. I bought them and brought them to work to eat, then I decided not to since I’m allergic to chocolate. I’ve occasionally left small things for MCF over the past year or so. Sometimes a muffin or doughnut, a soda, etc. It didn’t occur to me until far too late that chocolates are what you give a romantic interest. Now, what are the chances that my investigator-turned manager mentor whom I just so happen to have a crush on has failed to notice over the past year and a half plus that I can’t speak to him without blushing!? I may be in deep shit here with my mentor 😦

 

I had an appointment with a new pain care specialist to get a second opinion today. It did not go well. I wanted to die after she told me there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m in my 20’s living in agony and she tells me I just need to learn a few exercises at physical therapy and I’ll be fine!? As if the two rounds of a year plus I’ve spent in physical therapy meant nothing. I spent all day wanting to hurt myself, thinking about hurting myself. Was seriously tempted to take the box cutter at my desk to myself just for a second of relief. I didn’t, but I still might. You know, at home. Not at work where it could end my career if I got caught. I wonder what it would be like to have someone who understands that? Someone I could trust to give me pain when I need it and take care of me so I never had to hurt myself or think about hurting myself? I wonder if I’ll ever know. I doubt it.

 

I finally told H last night that I don’t want to play with BWC any more, that there’s no chemistry. I told BWC tonight and he freaked the fuck out. Then H spent hours messaging him pretending to be me cuz H was worried if I was honest BWC would harm us in some way as he has pictures of both of us apparently. So H told me what to say. Fuck my life. I can’t even be myself with random hookups and tell them to go away or ignore them without the risk of being blackmailed!? I am so done. I haven’t eaten a bite today, I threw up twice after my doctor’s appointment at work and my stomach has been in knots ever since. I never did get a dose of pain in any helpful form. And now somehow I have to pull my shit together to work all day again tomorrow. I literally cried for an hour and a half at work after my appointment this morning. Luckily the bosses were in a two hour meeting and missed all of it, but still. It was fucking embarrassing. I do not want to be that person, ever. God, the more I think about any part of this day the more I want to be dead.

The Cloverleaf Chronicles – Growing Pains

4 Leaf Clover

Today is the one month anniversary of when the four of us met! Over the weekend H and I finally met B and his wife’s daughter. I was very excited to meet her and she is an adorable girl. B is not her biological father, but he’s been in her life since she was very young. Her biological father lives near by, so B and his wife have her 50% of the time, and the other 50% of the time she is with her biological father. I wasn’t sure before how close B and she were, but H and I spent time with the three of them over the weekend and it’s clear that they are a family. She calls B “daddy” which I find so endearing. B obviously loves her very much. I had asked him at one point if he and his wife wanted more kids and B told me they did want one of their own some day. I thought that was really cool.

Anyway, over the weekend B and I went to a local dog park just the two of us and talked for a couple of hours straight. I told him the things I’ve been holding back: about V, my history of sleeping with married men and the cutting. It was also my first chance to really talk with him about my family and some of the crap I dealt with growing up. He was, as always, extremely kind and understanding. He hugged me and held me and encouraged me. It was a wonderful feeling, and I was so glad to finally feel like everything is out in the open between us.

Naturally, I didn’t want to be far behind with his wife. She also enjoys writing, so we decided to share some of our stuff. I pulled quite a bit directly off of this blog and sent it to her. I hadn’t told her about the cutting, but she pretty much knew about the rest. However, she and I haven’t really talked about BDSM and that was certainly a recurring theme in what I sent her. She read most of what I sent her today and responded with a bunch of interesting and thoughtful questions. I was extremely nervous last night after I sent her so much of who I am and what I struggle with that I’d made a mistake and our cloverleaf was going to fall to pieces because I showed the real me. Instead my relationships with both B and his wife are already stronger. It feels amazing to be cared for by people who know things that matter to me, by people I’ve chosen to trust.

H seems to be the most unstable component of our cloverleaf so far, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. B said he thinks H might see our relationships as more of a friends-with-benefits situation than a polyamorous relationship, however B and H don’t really talk to one another so he’s drawing that conclusion indirectly. I admit it’s possible B is right, but my gut is that H is interested in B’s wife as more than a friend-with-benefits based on the time and energy he is investing in his relationship with her. Also, B’s wife has her own baggage and perhaps isn’t connecting with H on the deeper level that I’ve been connecting with both B and her. However, H needs the most time out of all of us to become comfortable and it takes time to really get to know him. I hope that over time H and B’s wife’s relationship will deepen. On a selfish note, although I would be wrecked if I lost B and his wife from my life, at least H and I will have had an experience with polyamory and perhaps we will find a permanent relationship down the road. In the meantime, the cloverleaf continues to learn and grow. I personally feel like I’ve grown a ton in the last month just by letting new people into my life and opening my heart again. Whatever happens in the end, I am grateful.

The Dirtiest Word of All: Normal

In my post Accept Me As I Am (http://wp.me/p4jKhN-dS) I touched briefly on the concept of being normal. For most of my life, I’ve equated being normal with being healthy. I’m slowly beginning to untangle the Gordian Knot that is the connection between these two concepts in my mind. It’s rather a complex task, but one to which I’m committed. All I ever wanted was to be normal. wish that was an exaggeration; it’s not. In school I was always a mile ahead without even trying. As an adult I discovered I have a previously undiagnosed hearing disability which has been deteriorating over time. I’ve always found relating to other people tiring; I became depressed and cynical at a young age. The dysfunction which permeated my home life as I grew up was something I blamed on myself. I learned early on that it was imperative to my survival that I construct an iron facade . I did it perhaps too well…

 

My defense mechanism of choice was over-achieving. As I got older, that alone wasn’t enough for me to survive. I discovered other methods of feeling in control such as not eating, cutting and exercise. Then along came V, discussed in Playing With Fire (http://wp.me/p4jKhN-bN). By the time I met E, I was very skilled at concealment & compartmentalization. It also helped that batterers typically target areas that can be covered by clothing. I was able to hide everything behind the “perfect child” persona I constructed for others. I’m not proud of the high level of skill I obtained as a manipulator, but it sure came in handy as a salesman! Anyway, it was as I matured in this state of mind that I learned to interchange normal with healthy. I looked around and saw normal people, living their normal lives. I didn’t detect any hint of the effort on their part that I put into every interaction, no matter how insignificant, just to appear normal. It was hardly a big leap to acknowledge that I was the common factor, that I must somehow deserve the pain. I’m not normal, I can’t fix it, it must be my fault.

 

Clearly this line of thinking isn’t rational, but how many rational teenagers do you know? I was different in so many ways, some of which I wasn’t even yet aware of. I had to compensate every day, in so many ways. Being normal was everything I wanted. I didn’t want to be brighter than average, I didn’t want to be interesting. All I wished for was a simple, shallow, average life. Even now, having gained some distance and perspective, I still yearn for that seductive vision of normal I’d constructed at times. Life is hard, marriage is hard, being healthy and making sound decisions is hard. However, I am healthy. I don’t mean to imply that I’m perfect, but I respect myself now. I don’t carry around the self-directed hatred and blame any longer. I don’t believe I deserve traumatic experiences. I try to avoid punishing myself for perceived failures. Now I just need a Dom to do that for me 😉

 

In all seriousness though, I think unravelling the connection between normal and healthy is an important step in accepting my need to submit. I also think this will help me understand how to responsibly indulge my masochistic side by setting safe limits, to protect myself both physically and psychologically. I’m not there yet, but I’m journeying in the direction of the life I want to live. My past no longer holds the power to determine my future.

 

P.S.

If you’re wondering why the word normal was italicized throughout, this was done in an attempt to reflect the vicious tone the word carries in my mind. To me, normal truly is one of the worst words in my vocabulary. It has caused me so much pain over the years; the word itself is one I’ve made a conscious decision to avoid using whenever possible. 

My Fellow Lonely Subs

Since beginning this blog, I’ve been slowly connecting with other subs via their blogs. I’ve learned a lot, and am grateful to be connecting to an entire community of people who can relate to my experiences and desires. However, there’s a topic I haven’t yet addressed and I’d love to get other’s input. 

 

As my “About” page explains, I am not in a BDSM relationship despite my desire for one. Nor have I ever been in one, although I have been abused. While I do understand the difference, I must admit as a masochist and a submissive I had a major identity crisis once free of the abuse. How was I suppose to separate my desires from the horrors I had encountered? How was I suppose to accept myself for who I am without also blaming myself for having been battered? It’s taken years, and the process is ongoing. However, I’m slowly getting there. 

 

What I’ve been considering lately likely has more to do with my masochism than my submissiveness, and is rooted in my past. However, I am who I am because of where I’ve been. As a teenager I relied on self harming for a very long time. I doubt I will ever be free of the impulse, and sometimes I have to wonder what’s healthy and what isn’t. For example, in my post I Won’t Go Down Without A Fight (http://wp.me/p4jKhN-ck) I mentioned my outing to the Adult Store. In spite of the fact that I went specifically to purchase my first butt plug, my interest was caught by an entirely different product:

 

Image

 

This Icicles No. 38 flogger’s handle is made out of hand blown glass, with swirls providing texture. It can be heated or cooled for temperature play and is body safe. It’s hardly new news to me that I want to be flogged, but I was totally unprepared for the visceral reaction I had to seeing this particular product. Sadly I didn’t buy it as I seriously doubt H would be okay with me even owning such a thing, let alone wanting to use it. However, not owning a flogger certainly hasn’t curtailed my fantasies in the least. I can’t hardly cum anymore without imagining being flogged, bound, humiliated etc. etc. Arriving at my point: how do you subs handle it when you don’t have a dom? 

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an intelligent, strong woman. I have a successful career and know how to take care of myself, in addition to having a wonderful husband. I don’t need a keeper. What I haven’t figured out is how to handle my less vanilla needs, particularly since H isn’t interested in assisting with that. I suppose craving pain is normal for a masochist, right? So, it’s okay for me as a masochistic submissive to let someone else hurt me, but I can’t hurt myself…See where I’m confused? FML. Is it only motivation that makes hurting oneself bad? I did it out of desperation when I was younger; it was a way to exert control when I was powerless and a way to cope with emotional trauma. I made a promise to myself years ago to never again go to such atrocious lengths to survive. A promise I’ve never broken, but now the temptation has a different flavor. I don’t want to hurt myself because I hate myself, I want to hurt myself because nobody else will and I want the pain so badly, I crave it, I need it. I’m going crazy and I have no idea how to handle it.