Musings of a kinky, feministic, and sex-positive heathen

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Love and Obsession

I’ve been thinking a lot about some of the things I’ve said recently and the things I’ve felt when moving forward.  I’m still feeling the aftereffects of the relationship I had for nearly a year. It was…deep. I really threw myself into it and let myself focus almost exclusively on what was between us.  I used pictures of them as wallpaper and even had their name in some of my passwords (passwords which have since changed). In a writing I posted a while back, “Strong”, I described this as obsession.

But really, the actions I took in a lot of ways are how I view love.  Love is being open and taking someone’s soul into yourself. The closer you are to someone, the more their soul touches and blends into yours.  The idea that this was an obsession and that I was unhealthy in focusing on seems wrong in a way. How else am I going to be close to people in the future if I don’t open up and be vulnerable to them?  Why would I tamp down my feelings of adoration and joy when they’re someone that fills my being so wonderfully and thoroughly?

I certainly didn’t take care of myself as much as I should have, and that’s a lesson that I’ll be taking to further relationships.  The situation became toxic between us, and I should have asked them to fix things or break up months before we finally cleared things up.  I should continue to work on myself and focus time on things that make me feel connected and jubilant without relying on others. None of this makes my joy at that relationship wrong though.

I’ve been holding myself back from jumping into another relationship for a little while now, something I think is prudent.  I’ve had some people who I’ve been interested in asking out and doing things with, but I just didn’t feel stable enough yet, nor did I feel like I knew what I wanted to do going forward.  At this point, I’ve decided that it truly is okay to deeply delve into someone else and spend so much time thinking of them. For months I’d been trying to find what I was doing wrong to cause the relationship to become toxic, and after breaking up I was trying to figure out how I could stop that from happening in the future.

While I mentioned some slight things I want to change about myself, I don’t think I really could have done anything to save the relationship, and more and more I’m realizing that really embracing that love as I did wasn’t wrong.  The next time I find someone who clicks so wonderfully with me, I’ll embrace it once again. It was totally worth it. =3


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The other night I was at a party and people were talking about the concept of dancing; rather they were trying to define what dancing was.  The usual “I know it when I see it” came up, though eventually the group seemed to settle on dancing just being any type of movement at all.  They were talking about how even walking is dancing, and how while black is the shade of visual art, standing still is the shade of dancing. The rest in a measure, if you’re more musically inclined.  Look no farther than someone dancing “The Robot” to see how being still can be integral in a dance number.

Something about their definition just didn’t feel right to me though.  For me, there’s something more to dancing, though I couldn’t really find the words for it at the time.  It took a little while to get my thoughts together before I realized why I thought their assessment wasn’t right.  For me, dancing isn’t just movement. Dancing has more to it than that. Dancing has an intentionality of expression.

They mentioned that walking was dancing, which…while I feel it isn’t by default, it can be when done right.  When I walk down the street, music in my ears and my feet hitting the pavement to a well-defined beat, I’m dancing.  It’s a dance of forward movement, of purpose and resolve. Truthfully, I don’t necessarily have to have the music or beat, but music so often helps to aid in expression, as it’s a form of expression itself.  It’s so often easier to express yourself around like-minded expressions.

When I dance to music in my room at night sometimes, it’s a dance of joy.  I have a soaring enjoyment filling every pore of my body, and I can’t hold it in.  It simply screams to be expressed, and thus my feet spin and slide, my arms swing, and I move gracefully across the floor, often leaping onto things if I have them available!

I’ve danced with a whip before, cracking in time to the music in manners that express joy, frustration, power, and freedom among many other things.  There’s a precision to it, and yet there’s a very primal expression in the core of this sort of dance. It’s unrestrained in so many ways, controlled just enough so that I can be confident I won’t harm anyone with my actions.  In a way it’s an expression of the fact I CAN express exuberantly and be myself without harming others. After so much difficulty dealing with my own overwhelming feelings, it’s a splendid release.

And these are just some ways I express myself.  Dance can be found elsewhere, even in those who have little to no experience doing so.  Toddlers can be seen dancing, a dance of joy that comes naturally to so many of us before we start worrying about what others may think.  It’s raw and unrefined, and yet nonetheless it is no less a dance than the most graceful ballerina. In some ways you might say it’s more pure.  It goes to show just how much intention of expression can exist without needing any sort of practiced skill.

I may use a lot of flowery words to express myself, and yet often much of what I say to those closest to me is through my tone, rather than my words.  Often when with those closest to me I don’t even use words. Sometimes it can be hard to dance when it feels like others around me will judge me. The more I think about it though, the more I realize I could never look down on someone who was excitedly dancing their emotions, and I can’t take seriously someone who would do the same to me.  Not even if I slip, stumble, or miss a beat. What’s important is that passionate intentionality of expression.

And nobody’s going to take that from me.  =3

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This is a cross-post from Fet.  I wanted to make this available to people close to me who aren’t on that platform.

A lot has happened over the past year and the years before.  I’ve been trying to find how I could fit in the kink community and others.  So many questions. I knew in many ways what I wanted, or at least what situations worked for me.  I’m a sadist, check. More specifically I know I like emotional reactions of all kinds from others regardless of what they are.  How would I get those reactions though?

I only sometimes was able to find someone that I really felt alive with.  People who liked what I like seemed incredibly rare, or currently involved in other relationships and uninterested.  While I’ve had at least one person who’s stood by me, a stable support for years, I bounced back and forth with others, trying to find someone who really, truly worked for me.

As if to compound the difficulties of my search, heavy panic attacks and seriously painful stomach issues set in a couple of years ago.  I was worried about my work and often would require finding a place to calm down, even more so than in the past when I could tough through it.  I’d often go to events and have trouble asking people if they wanted to play at all, and when I did find people I clung to what I had.

Enter a little over a year ago.  I found someone that worked for me in all the right ways.  I could do the things I loved and the reactions. Oh, the reactions.  I felt alive in as much as I could. The stomach issues and other issues continued, but for once I felt alive.  I put nearly everything I had into this one person. I felt comfortable. I felt loved. I stopped looking for other people to a large extent, as much as I was still attracted to others.  It was just too difficult, and I had someone right there. I focused almost exclusively on this…somewhat to my detriment.

I didn’t look out for myself.  When difficulties would come up, I would do everything I could to make sure they were smoothed over.  I’d put my wants after making sure that this relationship, this thing that seemed to be sustaining me was kept going.  I put them first at almost every turn, and in doing so I did a great disservice to myself, to others close to me…and even to them.

I wasn’t the same person I was when they met me, in some ways having delved so deeply that I’d lost track of some things, even while having learned things about myself.  I still wouldn’t give up the time we had for the world, but now that I look back I know some things about it were unhealthy.

I could hide behind the fact that I really didn’t have the energy, the wherewithal to push myself in good directions.  I could hide behind my stomach issues and the panic that so often accompanied them. As much as I learned to mitigate such feelings, they never went away.  They always stuck around, sitting in the background.

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, if you didn’t already know, the relationship ended.  I floundered for a while, since I didn’t know for sure if it really had or at the very least couldn’t accept it if I’d heard as much.  I wanted the emotional closeness if nothing else. That wasn’t to be though. I couldn’t keep going after them, pining and hoping. I continued to put them first in a way, trying to make sure that they weren’t uncomfortable with me but always just feeling awkward and certainly causing more harm than good for everyone involved.  It just…wasn’t…healthy.

I started to come to terms with it even before I really truly clarified what had happened with them.  I spent nights crying and I leaned on those close to me, those who were still around me and could support me, people who I often supported as well but didn’t feel that same need and anxiety.  When I confirmed where the two of us where, it felt hard in the moment, but as soon as it was over I didn’t cry nearly as much as I thought I would. In a way, I’d already come to terms with it.

But there were other things I hadn’t come to terms with.  When I went to BMSL this weekend, I felt comfortable walking in.  It’s a place where in a lot of ways I can be who I really am. The problem as the weekend continued was just…who was I?  I had a couple of people who I was going to do scenes with, but something felt missing. What was that piece that I was missing?  What was the thing that I wanted so badly that I would put my expression of my own desires last in order to keep?

After doing a scene on Friday night and having one lined up Saturday, I knew I needed something else.  I knew I needed to cry at least a bit. I was tearing up left and right trying to deal with the pain that was left as I watched the one I still love doing what they do best, doing the beautiful loops they now do as they flew free.  I wanted that for them, but what did I want for myself?

When it came time for a single tailed whip class, I knew I had to be there.  As much as rope is me, there’s something liberating about cracking a whip. I watched intently, taking everything in, absorbing as much as I could, and wanting to crack a whip myself.  The moment eventually came when a call went out of “Who in the crowd is a whip top?” I raised my hand enthusiastically, not quite expecting they’d call me up to show how I handled a whip.  I should have known, since they were talking about it moments before.

Those moments of dancing, cracking the whip with practiced motions that even my anxiety couldn’t rob me of, brought on a small high.  I felt… And that was just it. I felt.

As the night continued, I could feel myself near tears several times, and I wanted to express it.  I thought of a good friend of mine who found herself through a solo scene. She didn’t need anyone in order to find what she wanted, and as nervous as I was I wanted to do the same.  I put on my best, heading down to the dungeon with my whips wrapped around my waist like a belt holding my pants up.

When the dungeon finally opened, I grabbed the mats, the largest area I could find, as soon as I could.  I thought I was going to cry. I was getting tears in my eyes as I sat and waited after all. As the music started, I pulled a whip out and cracked it a couple of times.  The feelings started to flow again. I started to rip my suit off, pitching it aside in an act of pitching the barriers that I put up to try to protect myself and others. They didn’t come off easily.  I had to pull my rope gauntlet off my arm, something I wasn’t planning. In a way though, throwing my rope, the symbol of so much art and perfection, to the side in such an emotional scene was fitting as well.

I used both whips, hitting as hard as I could, though in time to the music.  There was something primal, hard, and yet therapeutic about all of it. I didn’t cry.  I felt strong. I felt so many of the things I’d felt when I scened with them, the person I’d been so obsessed with over the past year.  I felt the energy, I felt the emotion allowing itself to come to the surface, even as no tears fell from my eyes.

The world blurred.  Near the beginning I saw at least one DM walk up and stare.  I don’t know if they were trying to decide if it was a healthy scene or if they needed to intervene.  Maybe they wondered if I was going to be safe with what I was doing. My strikes were savage and unrefined, but always on beat and always within the mat.  I knew what I was doing. I was working myself up and tearing myself down.

Over the songs where I played, alone and yet as alive as ever, I exhausted myself.  I turned in on myself and I can’t tell you what happened outside of my little bubble with the occasional notice of those close to me, including that one who I’d obsessed over for so long, who I’d taken solace in.  I wanted to see them happy, but I didn’t need them, and I was making my own path. I could be alone and get what I wanted out of the scene.

I left feeling stronger than ever.  Dehydrated, exhausted, and just now as I write this feeling the soreness of my arms and back from the intense workout I forced upon myself, both top and bottom in that scene.  But I was stronger. I spent the rest of the night feeling a high I’ve not felt for a while now, and all of my own making.

I still felt that I wanted to spend time around them and still felt sadness at our not playing, but now when I was around them I felt I could be happy and happy for them without so much weighing me down.  I didn’t feel like I needed to tiptoe in order to make sure that they were happy. They could find happiness on their own as well. I took more chances, I spent time with those who are close to both of us in ways I’d worried would make them feel uncomfortable, trusting that if they did they’d say something and knowing that I was putting myself first once again.

The rest of the night was astounding.  I had all the energy I’d ever wanted to joke with, relate to, and encourage friends.  I got over my fear of talking to the one I was watching flourish and spent a number of wonderful moments in conversation between the things that we each did.  I soared under my own power and nobody fucking else’s.

I shared a small part of this with the Switches’ Symposium afterward, and more with my loved ones back home, a support net that was ready to catch me as soon as I returned from the event.  I may not have cried during my scene, but I cried tonight. I cried telling my closest partner all the things that had been eating me and how I am overcoming them. I cried both as I continue to feel sadness at what was loss and deep joy at what I have found.  Tears have even found their way down my face as I wrote this.

For so many years I felt I couldn’t express my feelings.  I pushed my overly strong feelings down to try and exist in the world as a functioning being, to not cry at the drop of a hat.  When I look for reactions in others, in a way I’m feeling through them, using their pain, surprise, pleasure, and love to feel on my own part.

Last night when I danced and tonight when I cried…I felt for myself.  I felt without using someone else as a medium, as a person who would feel feelings that I could empathize with.  The numbness of space after the scene, the ecstatic energy from last night, and the tears that slide along my cheeks.  I feel again. I feel, and I feel strong.


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Blog setup

So I’d been thinking of making a blog for a while.  I have so many thoughts that go through my head that I’d like to put out there, but never get around to actually expressing.  Perhaps I’ll manage to do that here…or then again, this could be like so many other things and I’ll make 3 posts and then never touch the site again.  I suppose we’ll just see.  X3;