Saturday, September 27, 2014
socialization
Friday night option - go to free classy cocktail hour with fellow grad students, or go to FemDom night at kink club where I'm almost certain to be watching rather than playing? I chose the dungeon, and although free cocktails while dressed in pretty things is hard to resist, I think I made the right choice. Is it weird that I'm in a new city and I'd rather socialize with kinky people than fellow nursing students? The students will be my future colleagues, people I might need in professional references and connections. The kinksters just feel so much more real, there's already so much about each of us on public display that somehow it's easier to be open and honest, to get to know each other as complex creatures. Something about starting from the most secret places in yourself and working outward to build up the knowledge of the more superficial/public information, as compared to starting superficial/public and digging in over time into more personal information. Either group is one I'm not terribly likely to see in person once I leave this state next year, but I somehow suspect I'll leave with greater feelings of connection for my growing kinky family than I will for my sprawling cohort of nurses.
Monday, September 15, 2014
heartbreak
With any luck, I will never look at this again. But I needed to write it, and need to share it.
---
---
I was grateful when the decision was taken away. Before
there had been a choice, an impossible choice.
He wasn’t stable yet, but they thought there was a chance that machines
could keep him alive. A chance that he would continue to breathe and moan, maybe
keep occasionally opening his eyes (so hurting, scared, comprehending?). With
luck, he might regain the ability to communicate. There might even be the
tenuous possibility of improving enough to go to an assisted
living/rehabilitation facility. A slow battle with terrible chances of success,
but a glimmer of hope was still there. The other choice was to stop. Stop the
cascade of interventions. Let the next time something failed be the end. The
end. The weight of finality.
I couldn’t chose. Don’t make me chose.
Don’t make me kill my father. Don’t make me selfishly chose
to not see him struggle and hurt like that, recovering from this crisis only to
have the diseases progress, to have this happen again.
I feel evil. Filthy. Unloving. Robotic. Broken.
Fly, he told me. Spread your wings, you don’t need to worry
about me, go explore the world for both of us. Don’t let me hold you back.
I hated when he said that, and still, I did it. But somewhere in there I
started to believe that he didn’t need me to be there for him anymore. That
living for both of us meant doing what I wanted without thinking of the
consequences for him. I was selfish. Self-absorbed. Human, I know, but somehow
that only slightly lessens the guilt.
Now the doctor said that the prospects were dimming, that
rehabilitation to any kind of functional level was looking unlikely. He would
be alive, in the sense that he would still be warm, still breathe with a
machine, still have my father’s edema-swollen features. He could stay like that
for a while, months, maybe.
But he wouldn’t be living. He wouldn’t get better.
The choice was still wrenching. I never understood that word
until that moment, “wrenching.” I called my mother, across the country,
divorced from my father for over 15 years. My step-dad had to listen to the
voicemail to extract the information I was trying to get across, she couldn’t stand
to listen to my heartbroken sobs as I tried to choke out my need for her help.
We “discontinued therapy.” A nice injection of morphine, turning
off the alarms on machines. The feeding tube snaked down his nose was hooked to
a regulator that kept methodically turning a half turn every minute. The positive-pressure
oxygen mask still pushed air into his lungs. His pulse still traced a wave on the
screen next to the bed. His arm was still warm under my fingers, retaining deep
pits from even the lightest sustained pressure, the weight of a fingertip. I
tried to be surreptitious as I distanced myself from reality, examining the
“pitting edema” that I’d read about in books. Somehow I don’t think my dad would
have minded that part at all, he always wanted me to learn.
When he died, it was like nothing had changed. I think we
all picture deaths happening surrounded by loved ones, hands held tenderly, maybe
a tear or a sniff betraying the emotion behind the bittersweet contemplation of
the end of a life well lived. Eyes close with a smile, the monitor sounds a
flat tone, tears flow and people hug.
My father died surrounded by people I didn’t know. I had no
conception of the power I had, to ask people to leave, to ask to say goodbye in
private or with the people I wanted around me. Most of that whole week is a
blur, a mentally censored box that still brings me to tears to write about,
even 3 years later. I was answering questions that someone was asking about my
work in the Peace Corps, some older woman who I don’t think I’d even recognize
if I saw her again, just churning through the rote script that I’d repeated a
dozen times to countless family members and strangers on airplanes alike.
Then I looked up, and he was gone. That expected flat-line
tone of a hundred medical dramas never materialized. Maybe it had just
happened. Maybe it had been while I was mindlessly trying to please this person
who also needed distraction from her grief. His arm still felt just as warm
under my fingertips, sunken gently into his skin. The oxygen mask was still
strapped on, making his chest gently rise and fall, 14 breaths per minute. But
he wasn’t there anymore.
Of all the events of that week, that’s the moment I just
can’t forgive myself for. Not being there for him when he died.
flying
I'm still on such a rope high! Every time I think back to Saturday I still feel this place inside my chest start to grin and wiggle happily.
When I got to the rope class I was happy to find the same group of younger folks who I've been getting to know, and was excited to tie/be tied with them. It's always a little nervous going without a partner, but I felt pretty comfortable with the idea of working with any of them. When M, our teacher, kind of looked at me with a question of if I wanted to demo again, I was thrilled - I had expected that she wouldn't need me two classes in a row, I'd assumed that she had a regular bunny. We hit pretty much every tie I've been wanting to experience from the bottom - an arm binder (corset style - so pretty!), a wrist to ankle tie (mmm..perfect exposure), and a hogtie that included a chest harness (I so need to practice my chest harness and box tie). When she wanted to loop a strand across my mouth, and then briefly across my neck, I heard my girlfriend's voice in my head talking about listening to what I really wanted and cautioning against making escalating decisions while rope-high. I was glad that I thought about that perspective, about the non-verbal and not explicit asking for and granting of consent that happened. I'm glad that I felt that flutter of concern, and I'm glad I did it anyway. God, it was so hot! I'm struggling to not sexualize it, the feeling of being touched and wrapped, even as a demo, is so incredible.
I was totally on a high after the class, admiring my marks, giggling. M was saying that she really enjoyed tying me, and asked if I'd be interested in practicing outside of class. Ummm...yes! It feels a bit snobbish since I'm still a novice at rigging, but it's really exciting to be tied by someone with confidence and experience, who moves with purpose and can pay attention to those niceties, like even rope tension or the right tightness/looseness for the particular purpose. The more she ties me, the more confident I feel in her abilities. It's teaching me to work though discomfort, to begin to expand my definition of acceptable discomfort, claiming ground from places where I would usually jump to "bad pain!"
That night we both went to the party. I wasn't sure what she was interested in doing, but I was game for anything. As I said, I'm trying to de-sexualize the situation - I know she's bi, but she's committed to her Dom, and I would absolutely hate to step on any toes this early. I already half feel like I am by becoming the "teacher's pet" above people who might have been going to classes longer than I have.
The experience was nothing short of amazing. Eye opening. Delightful! She started a little sensuously, stretching my shoulders. Almost naked in a thong and peacock blue heels, chest thrust forward and curled as she pulled my shoulders back and pushed them forward, working hard to balance while my eyes half closed in joy at *finally.being.touched* for the first time in a month by hands that aren't my own (or aren't my lab partners clinically practicing examinations). The beginning of the chest harness was sensual, arms wrapped around my chest, rope drawing across erect nipples. There was a break in the silent eroticism when she explained that she was re-doing a portion, experimenting. It was a nice giggle, a chance to encourage experimentation. After all, that's what I was there for, and I was totally loving it.
She soon had me in a beautiful and very secure TK, arms boxed behind me, feeling grateful that I've been starting to stretch and develop some arm and shoulder muscles recently. She let me play around a little once she'd secured me to the ring, stumbling on my heels a bit as I swung and laughed. A length of coconut rope went around my supporting leg - less painful than I'd expected, but I'm sure it would be miserable if it had been someplace where pressure was applied. The other ankle got tied in a single column, and slowly I ended up balancing on my right leg, the rest of my body dangling from the rotating ring. She showed me how I could kick up my other foot to rest on the suspended ankle, and I was in heaven! I had a slight moment of self-consciousness for my belly, softly draping down with gravity in a way that is reminiscent of being pregnant, but with loose skin. But I was quickly lost in the delight of it all.
I couldn't hold the position very long due to the strain on my core muscles, suspended just by my chest and my ankle with the majority of my mass having to fight for alignment. I ended up sadly giving in and putting my free foot back on the ground, disappointing that I couldn't stay up longer. Happily, M fixed this by grabbing some more rope and wrapping a few passes around my hips. It wasn't necessarily the most elaborate, but it certainly did the trick and got me back into the air. Another loop around my mid-thighs and I was set - the waist band wasn't doing much at that point, but I could easily hold my core from knees to shoulders. She lay on the ground under me and spun me around, blood rushing to my face as I giggled and went cross-eyed, both of us grinning and celebrating what felt like an accomplishment.
When she brought me down I was shaking slightly, and ready for a hug, and to sit. That post-play time is such a good bonding time for me, open and vulnerable, but I'm still not sure how to feel around M so I busied myself with tidying her rope - everyone has a different way to store rope!
(I just wrote another piece I'm going to post about my Dad, so I'm having a hard time re-capturing the joy at this point, I'm just writing to journal, to have the record, but trust me, future self, when I assure you that I was/am super excited!)
But the best part of the evening? She asked me to go with her to the most amazing rope event! She's going to an intensive a few hours away, for a weekend next month, with this fantastic rope model/rigger, and needs a bunny. How I got so lucky, I just don't know. I don't think I even know enough rope to properly appreciate the things I'm going to be learning, but I'm so honored to get the chance to learn at this kind of a level while I'm still a beginner. Rope! Learning!
I still have marks from two nights ago. I've been rubbing them absently, when taking a test today, during class, and the little bloom of bruised pain makes me calm and smile every time. :)
When I got to the rope class I was happy to find the same group of younger folks who I've been getting to know, and was excited to tie/be tied with them. It's always a little nervous going without a partner, but I felt pretty comfortable with the idea of working with any of them. When M, our teacher, kind of looked at me with a question of if I wanted to demo again, I was thrilled - I had expected that she wouldn't need me two classes in a row, I'd assumed that she had a regular bunny. We hit pretty much every tie I've been wanting to experience from the bottom - an arm binder (corset style - so pretty!), a wrist to ankle tie (mmm..perfect exposure), and a hogtie that included a chest harness (I so need to practice my chest harness and box tie). When she wanted to loop a strand across my mouth, and then briefly across my neck, I heard my girlfriend's voice in my head talking about listening to what I really wanted and cautioning against making escalating decisions while rope-high. I was glad that I thought about that perspective, about the non-verbal and not explicit asking for and granting of consent that happened. I'm glad that I felt that flutter of concern, and I'm glad I did it anyway. God, it was so hot! I'm struggling to not sexualize it, the feeling of being touched and wrapped, even as a demo, is so incredible.
I was totally on a high after the class, admiring my marks, giggling. M was saying that she really enjoyed tying me, and asked if I'd be interested in practicing outside of class. Ummm...yes! It feels a bit snobbish since I'm still a novice at rigging, but it's really exciting to be tied by someone with confidence and experience, who moves with purpose and can pay attention to those niceties, like even rope tension or the right tightness/looseness for the particular purpose. The more she ties me, the more confident I feel in her abilities. It's teaching me to work though discomfort, to begin to expand my definition of acceptable discomfort, claiming ground from places where I would usually jump to "bad pain!"
That night we both went to the party. I wasn't sure what she was interested in doing, but I was game for anything. As I said, I'm trying to de-sexualize the situation - I know she's bi, but she's committed to her Dom, and I would absolutely hate to step on any toes this early. I already half feel like I am by becoming the "teacher's pet" above people who might have been going to classes longer than I have.
The experience was nothing short of amazing. Eye opening. Delightful! She started a little sensuously, stretching my shoulders. Almost naked in a thong and peacock blue heels, chest thrust forward and curled as she pulled my shoulders back and pushed them forward, working hard to balance while my eyes half closed in joy at *finally.being.touched* for the first time in a month by hands that aren't my own (or aren't my lab partners clinically practicing examinations). The beginning of the chest harness was sensual, arms wrapped around my chest, rope drawing across erect nipples. There was a break in the silent eroticism when she explained that she was re-doing a portion, experimenting. It was a nice giggle, a chance to encourage experimentation. After all, that's what I was there for, and I was totally loving it.
She soon had me in a beautiful and very secure TK, arms boxed behind me, feeling grateful that I've been starting to stretch and develop some arm and shoulder muscles recently. She let me play around a little once she'd secured me to the ring, stumbling on my heels a bit as I swung and laughed. A length of coconut rope went around my supporting leg - less painful than I'd expected, but I'm sure it would be miserable if it had been someplace where pressure was applied. The other ankle got tied in a single column, and slowly I ended up balancing on my right leg, the rest of my body dangling from the rotating ring. She showed me how I could kick up my other foot to rest on the suspended ankle, and I was in heaven! I had a slight moment of self-consciousness for my belly, softly draping down with gravity in a way that is reminiscent of being pregnant, but with loose skin. But I was quickly lost in the delight of it all.
I couldn't hold the position very long due to the strain on my core muscles, suspended just by my chest and my ankle with the majority of my mass having to fight for alignment. I ended up sadly giving in and putting my free foot back on the ground, disappointing that I couldn't stay up longer. Happily, M fixed this by grabbing some more rope and wrapping a few passes around my hips. It wasn't necessarily the most elaborate, but it certainly did the trick and got me back into the air. Another loop around my mid-thighs and I was set - the waist band wasn't doing much at that point, but I could easily hold my core from knees to shoulders. She lay on the ground under me and spun me around, blood rushing to my face as I giggled and went cross-eyed, both of us grinning and celebrating what felt like an accomplishment.
When she brought me down I was shaking slightly, and ready for a hug, and to sit. That post-play time is such a good bonding time for me, open and vulnerable, but I'm still not sure how to feel around M so I busied myself with tidying her rope - everyone has a different way to store rope!
(I just wrote another piece I'm going to post about my Dad, so I'm having a hard time re-capturing the joy at this point, I'm just writing to journal, to have the record, but trust me, future self, when I assure you that I was/am super excited!)
But the best part of the evening? She asked me to go with her to the most amazing rope event! She's going to an intensive a few hours away, for a weekend next month, with this fantastic rope model/rigger, and needs a bunny. How I got so lucky, I just don't know. I don't think I even know enough rope to properly appreciate the things I'm going to be learning, but I'm so honored to get the chance to learn at this kind of a level while I'm still a beginner. Rope! Learning!
I still have marks from two nights ago. I've been rubbing them absently, when taking a test today, during class, and the little bloom of bruised pain makes me calm and smile every time. :)
Sunday, September 7, 2014
"taking precautions"
I've been having an ongoing discussion with friends back home and here in my new town about rape, particularly on college campuses. Today I felt proud for navigating a new kink scene in a way that felt very smart and responsible. I sat down to write about the latter, and suddenly realized how it was connected to the former.
--
The first part is pretty straight forward. Here in my current city, at our university every incoming student - freshman, transfer, grad student, etc - was required to do an online training and post-test that talked about abuses of power (specifically - sexual assault and rape). I thought it did a pretty decent job. Most rapes are not "a sneaky evil predatory lurked in the bushes outside of a dorm until a drunk girl in a short skirt happened to stumble by alone at 2am." They aren't even "girl accepts her first drink at a party and boy she's never met across the room has slipped GHB into it, then takes her upstairs to his room."
Many are closer to "girl and boy have gone out to coffee a few times and are now at a party. Both of them get drunk and he insists on walking her home, and then in going up to her room. She wants to kiss him goodnight and does, but then he gets gropey. She pushes him away or tells him "no" and he apologizes and they go back to kissing. But then he thinks he has to try again, that all of his friends will call him a wimp for not "going all the way when he had the chance." She tells him to stop, to leave, but he pleads that they could just go back to kissing and she agrees. Then he tries to get a hand up her skirt. This continues. Eventually she's tired and they've been arguing for an hour, and he never leaves when she tells him to, so she thinks maybe if she just lets him finish he'll leave her alone." Maybe not all of them are like that specifically, but the elements of alcohol, an acquaintance, and the socialized pressures (for him - to get as far as he can, for her - to not be assertive or "rude") are certainly a bit part of those less obvious cases.
How is it that in social situations most of us can read a "soft no" so well, ("oh, we'd love for you to come over and join us, but we'll be leaving soon anyway...") but in sexual situations suddenly the other person must yell "Stop! I don't want to have sex with you, I'm saying no!" for it to be clear?
So this little training really emphasized those times. That instead of the responsibility being on the woman to say no, the responsibility should instead be on both partners to ensure that the other person is saying "yes!" <--enthusiasm not optional. This is totally in line with my beliefs about good sexual encounters, and I was psyched to see them being taught as an orientation requirement by a large institution.
Then the second week on campus, we all got an email. A female student, a freshman, had reported being sexually assaulted on campus. An article in the campus paper made it clear that this is an annual process - the first semester of school being the most common period for rapes to be reported.
A similar dialogue is going on back in the town that I just moved from. There was a "head to head" article pair that aimed to encourage dialogue around the topic by presenting "opposing" sides of the issue. The problem being that side one was "people should not rape others, and we need to teach everyone to ask if their partner is saying yes to sex" and side two was "women need to take responsibility to prevent rape, because if alcohol excuses their poor judgement, why does it not excuse the poor judgement of the men who rape them?" Another post for another day, but I'm happy to be finally finding the words for how angry this makes me and why I think this argument is bullshit.
--
The connected proud moment in my life is kink-related. Last week I met Rope Guy at the party - he had contacted me after the rope class we both attended, I was suspicious of his motives, but his flirting was polite and classy, and our conversation in person was respectful, thoughtful, and engaging. I was ready to ask him to play that night but decided to hold back and make a "smart" choice to wait and see, this being our first meeting and all.
This week has been rough. I don't remember ever feeling this kind of craving for catharsis before, the itch to do something, anything, to take my brain away from the ever-growing to-do list that haunts me. The drive for endorphins that food and even exercise just aren't quite providing. The hunger for bruises and marks and tears and ringing laughter and temporary surges of serotonin-mediated bonding with another human being. I haven't been touched - hugged, kissed, comforted - since my girlfriend visited over a month ago, beyond having my lab partner feeling me up for our physical assessment practice.
Today I went to a fire class. It was "eh" as far as classes go, I learned a few new tricks but there were a number of things I had an issue with (painful massive safety emphasis, no hands-on, very little demo). After I was itching to play, to start making those connections. I've been here for a month, chop chop! I didn't want to go to the party if I didn't know someone there - it's ok to force social with strangers, but by this point I should have at least a handful of folks that can bring me into the conversation and I want to utilize that. I was writing a message to RG, debating if I should be forward and just ask if he was going to be there, to tell him that I was interested in playing.
Then I paused before I sent the message. I have very little experience playing with men, because most of the time they come off as predatory and creepy towards younger women, and bring a sexual pressure that I don't like. I had intended to meet up with any guy at least two or three times before agreeing to play, and I could see myself making exceptions, not out of trust, but out of frustration. So I sent a message to the volunteer head of the dungeon, asking if it was appropriate for me to ask him about a potential play partner. He seemed a little reluctant but agreed. When I sent him the name of RG, he didn't reply right away.
I was getting impatient - if I was going to message RG about the party for tonight it seemed only polite to give him at least a 2 hour pre-party window to check his messages and decide if he was going to attend a party he may or may not have been planning on going to. Waiting waiting waiting...refreshing the inbox over and over...
Finally I gave up. He must have gotten busy or distracted, I thought; I do that pretty often when messaging someone. I sent the message to RG - *click!*
Then I got a message back from the president. He was very reasonable, not overly cautioning, but did clearly lay out a list of concerns he had with RG as a play and relationship partner. Some of them were fairly fluffy "I want to warn you away from this person but I need to give you a reason so here are things that nearly everyone does but could be considered less than stellar" things - he's been known to accidentally hit walls/pillars/himself/his partner when he didn't mean to. He's very showy and tends to play to the audience rather than focusing on the person he's hitting. But others were more serious - unprotected sex in public with multiple partners (the public sex, no problem as long as it's not with me. the unprotected sex - not ok, shows a serious lack of judgement and consideration). Getting into relationships with new young women who then mysteriously disappear out of the public scene and don't come back.
He assured me that if I played with RG in public in a strictly S&M sense (and had the will to enforce my boundaries) that I would be perfectly safe. And, oddly, I feel totally safe in this space - I trust that any misbehavior would be pounced on by other people there, because so many people seem very dedicated to keeping the space welcoming and safe for everyone. I'm not ruling out playing with RG, but I'm glad that any interactions we have are informed by a better understanding of who he is and what his patterns are, things that I would have no way of knowing without asking.
I replied to the president with genuine gratitude - it means a lot to feel like I know someone trustworthy (someone I wouldn't mind playing with, incidentally) who is willing to be up front with me when I'm potentially getting into murky waters. Not because I'm dumb, or not cautious, but simply because I don't yet have enough data points, not enough of a sense of the scene here. Even after 7 months in my home dungeon, I still only have the smallest grasp of the undercurrents that go on around me.
So I wrote to RG and apologized for the false alarm - I wasn't going to the party after all. I'll figure out my next move when I next see him, I'm not too afraid of being slightly rude by putting him off (I do wish I hadn't sent the message - impatient!). I was feeling all proud of myself for realizing when I was getting into a potentially bad situation and taking steps to protect myself, for "following the rules" as it were, of safe playing. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Vet new people with others that you trust who know them? Discuss and negotiate before you actually scene together?
---
When I sat down to write about that, it made me think of the rape conversations I've been having. How in kink there's a lot more emphasis put on spotting predatory behavior and shaming those people out of the scene, but there's also still a lot of emphasis put on how women can avoid being victims of predators (because often they don't get shamed out of the scene, just quietly tolerated). And that's a problem.
--
The first part is pretty straight forward. Here in my current city, at our university every incoming student - freshman, transfer, grad student, etc - was required to do an online training and post-test that talked about abuses of power (specifically - sexual assault and rape). I thought it did a pretty decent job. Most rapes are not "a sneaky evil predatory lurked in the bushes outside of a dorm until a drunk girl in a short skirt happened to stumble by alone at 2am." They aren't even "girl accepts her first drink at a party and boy she's never met across the room has slipped GHB into it, then takes her upstairs to his room."
Many are closer to "girl and boy have gone out to coffee a few times and are now at a party. Both of them get drunk and he insists on walking her home, and then in going up to her room. She wants to kiss him goodnight and does, but then he gets gropey. She pushes him away or tells him "no" and he apologizes and they go back to kissing. But then he thinks he has to try again, that all of his friends will call him a wimp for not "going all the way when he had the chance." She tells him to stop, to leave, but he pleads that they could just go back to kissing and she agrees. Then he tries to get a hand up her skirt. This continues. Eventually she's tired and they've been arguing for an hour, and he never leaves when she tells him to, so she thinks maybe if she just lets him finish he'll leave her alone." Maybe not all of them are like that specifically, but the elements of alcohol, an acquaintance, and the socialized pressures (for him - to get as far as he can, for her - to not be assertive or "rude") are certainly a bit part of those less obvious cases.
How is it that in social situations most of us can read a "soft no" so well, ("oh, we'd love for you to come over and join us, but we'll be leaving soon anyway...") but in sexual situations suddenly the other person must yell "Stop! I don't want to have sex with you, I'm saying no!" for it to be clear?
So this little training really emphasized those times. That instead of the responsibility being on the woman to say no, the responsibility should instead be on both partners to ensure that the other person is saying "yes!" <--enthusiasm not optional. This is totally in line with my beliefs about good sexual encounters, and I was psyched to see them being taught as an orientation requirement by a large institution.
Then the second week on campus, we all got an email. A female student, a freshman, had reported being sexually assaulted on campus. An article in the campus paper made it clear that this is an annual process - the first semester of school being the most common period for rapes to be reported.
A similar dialogue is going on back in the town that I just moved from. There was a "head to head" article pair that aimed to encourage dialogue around the topic by presenting "opposing" sides of the issue. The problem being that side one was "people should not rape others, and we need to teach everyone to ask if their partner is saying yes to sex" and side two was "women need to take responsibility to prevent rape, because if alcohol excuses their poor judgement, why does it not excuse the poor judgement of the men who rape them?" Another post for another day, but I'm happy to be finally finding the words for how angry this makes me and why I think this argument is bullshit.
--
The connected proud moment in my life is kink-related. Last week I met Rope Guy at the party - he had contacted me after the rope class we both attended, I was suspicious of his motives, but his flirting was polite and classy, and our conversation in person was respectful, thoughtful, and engaging. I was ready to ask him to play that night but decided to hold back and make a "smart" choice to wait and see, this being our first meeting and all.
This week has been rough. I don't remember ever feeling this kind of craving for catharsis before, the itch to do something, anything, to take my brain away from the ever-growing to-do list that haunts me. The drive for endorphins that food and even exercise just aren't quite providing. The hunger for bruises and marks and tears and ringing laughter and temporary surges of serotonin-mediated bonding with another human being. I haven't been touched - hugged, kissed, comforted - since my girlfriend visited over a month ago, beyond having my lab partner feeling me up for our physical assessment practice.
Today I went to a fire class. It was "eh" as far as classes go, I learned a few new tricks but there were a number of things I had an issue with (painful massive safety emphasis, no hands-on, very little demo). After I was itching to play, to start making those connections. I've been here for a month, chop chop! I didn't want to go to the party if I didn't know someone there - it's ok to force social with strangers, but by this point I should have at least a handful of folks that can bring me into the conversation and I want to utilize that. I was writing a message to RG, debating if I should be forward and just ask if he was going to be there, to tell him that I was interested in playing.
Then I paused before I sent the message. I have very little experience playing with men, because most of the time they come off as predatory and creepy towards younger women, and bring a sexual pressure that I don't like. I had intended to meet up with any guy at least two or three times before agreeing to play, and I could see myself making exceptions, not out of trust, but out of frustration. So I sent a message to the volunteer head of the dungeon, asking if it was appropriate for me to ask him about a potential play partner. He seemed a little reluctant but agreed. When I sent him the name of RG, he didn't reply right away.
I was getting impatient - if I was going to message RG about the party for tonight it seemed only polite to give him at least a 2 hour pre-party window to check his messages and decide if he was going to attend a party he may or may not have been planning on going to. Waiting waiting waiting...refreshing the inbox over and over...
Finally I gave up. He must have gotten busy or distracted, I thought; I do that pretty often when messaging someone. I sent the message to RG - *click!*
Then I got a message back from the president. He was very reasonable, not overly cautioning, but did clearly lay out a list of concerns he had with RG as a play and relationship partner. Some of them were fairly fluffy "I want to warn you away from this person but I need to give you a reason so here are things that nearly everyone does but could be considered less than stellar" things - he's been known to accidentally hit walls/pillars/himself/his partner when he didn't mean to. He's very showy and tends to play to the audience rather than focusing on the person he's hitting. But others were more serious - unprotected sex in public with multiple partners (the public sex, no problem as long as it's not with me. the unprotected sex - not ok, shows a serious lack of judgement and consideration). Getting into relationships with new young women who then mysteriously disappear out of the public scene and don't come back.
He assured me that if I played with RG in public in a strictly S&M sense (and had the will to enforce my boundaries) that I would be perfectly safe. And, oddly, I feel totally safe in this space - I trust that any misbehavior would be pounced on by other people there, because so many people seem very dedicated to keeping the space welcoming and safe for everyone. I'm not ruling out playing with RG, but I'm glad that any interactions we have are informed by a better understanding of who he is and what his patterns are, things that I would have no way of knowing without asking.
I replied to the president with genuine gratitude - it means a lot to feel like I know someone trustworthy (someone I wouldn't mind playing with, incidentally) who is willing to be up front with me when I'm potentially getting into murky waters. Not because I'm dumb, or not cautious, but simply because I don't yet have enough data points, not enough of a sense of the scene here. Even after 7 months in my home dungeon, I still only have the smallest grasp of the undercurrents that go on around me.
So I wrote to RG and apologized for the false alarm - I wasn't going to the party after all. I'll figure out my next move when I next see him, I'm not too afraid of being slightly rude by putting him off (I do wish I hadn't sent the message - impatient!). I was feeling all proud of myself for realizing when I was getting into a potentially bad situation and taking steps to protect myself, for "following the rules" as it were, of safe playing. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Vet new people with others that you trust who know them? Discuss and negotiate before you actually scene together?
---
When I sat down to write about that, it made me think of the rape conversations I've been having. How in kink there's a lot more emphasis put on spotting predatory behavior and shaming those people out of the scene, but there's also still a lot of emphasis put on how women can avoid being victims of predators (because often they don't get shamed out of the scene, just quietly tolerated). And that's a problem.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
dumb student stress
My brain is just boggled by my school.
Sometimes they act in a way that shows that they expect us to be intelligent, self-starters, who come so prepared to class it's almost as though they think we already know all of the information being presented. Those are times when it's stressful and frustrating, to feel behind before you even begin because you missed the memo that doing the pre-class reading meant you should have it memorized and be ready to apply it to "real life" scenarios. They repeat frequently how hard this year of accelerated study is, and how they know we're stressed and concerned. I didn't start out all that stressed, but after hearing that same sentiment from 4 professors every single day for 3 weeks, you bet I'm squashing down a ginormous bubble of anxiety, pretty much all the time I'm awake and asleep.
Sometimes they act as though we are immature, unmotivated high school students. In response to our stressing out over material to be covered on exams, etc (in response to the above expectations), they develop materials to help us organize our material and study efficiently. Nice, right? I just watched (or rather, fast forwarded through) a nine minute video about a 5 day study plan. I was excited to watch it, hoping for some good tips that I could add to my study arsenal (which has traditionally consisted of...going to class and maybe reviewing my notes the night before the test? In my defense, besides Organic Chemistry, it's worked pretty well thus far).
The film started off a little slow, no problem. I don't understand why you are explaining this little comic strip picture that you've included at the beginning of the presentation, the whole point of a comic is that you don't explain it, but we'll roll with that. A minute or two in, a handy one page chart was presented, allotting particular amounts of time for the study of new material and the review of older material. Fantastic! Fairly self-explanatory, could have been a classroom handout without any kind of review besides "This might help some of you, try it." The person voicing the video then proceeded to read out all of the directions. For every single day. Just in case you didn't catch on that "Prepare Part B: 2 hours, Review Part A: 30 minutes" means that you should start studying a new chunk of material and also review the material you started studying the day before, under "Prepare Part A: 2 hour". All the way to day 5, all 4 chunks of material. Narrated for your convenience.
Because by the time you get to graduate school, you might still have difficulty reading and comprehending material that isn't read out loud* to you.
*I understand that for students who have vision difficulties, this might be quite helpful. And I'm a fan of people highlighting main ideas/the important pieces verbally when they give a handout or a powerpoint lecture. But don't insult our intelligence - even if you can't see what's on the paper, the explanation could be much broader than reading out every step. "On Day 1, divide your material to be studied into 4 parts of about equal difficulty. Study the first part of the material for two hours. This could include a, b, c, etc. On subsequent days, add a new section of the material (for x or y amount of time) and help facilitate your retention of previous information by going back and reviewing the material covered previously. Continue to add new material daily, making sure to review previously studied material, until Day 5 when you can review all of the material and administer a self-test."
/end rant
Sometimes they act in a way that shows that they expect us to be intelligent, self-starters, who come so prepared to class it's almost as though they think we already know all of the information being presented. Those are times when it's stressful and frustrating, to feel behind before you even begin because you missed the memo that doing the pre-class reading meant you should have it memorized and be ready to apply it to "real life" scenarios. They repeat frequently how hard this year of accelerated study is, and how they know we're stressed and concerned. I didn't start out all that stressed, but after hearing that same sentiment from 4 professors every single day for 3 weeks, you bet I'm squashing down a ginormous bubble of anxiety, pretty much all the time I'm awake and asleep.
Sometimes they act as though we are immature, unmotivated high school students. In response to our stressing out over material to be covered on exams, etc (in response to the above expectations), they develop materials to help us organize our material and study efficiently. Nice, right? I just watched (or rather, fast forwarded through) a nine minute video about a 5 day study plan. I was excited to watch it, hoping for some good tips that I could add to my study arsenal (which has traditionally consisted of...going to class and maybe reviewing my notes the night before the test? In my defense, besides Organic Chemistry, it's worked pretty well thus far).
The film started off a little slow, no problem. I don't understand why you are explaining this little comic strip picture that you've included at the beginning of the presentation, the whole point of a comic is that you don't explain it, but we'll roll with that. A minute or two in, a handy one page chart was presented, allotting particular amounts of time for the study of new material and the review of older material. Fantastic! Fairly self-explanatory, could have been a classroom handout without any kind of review besides "This might help some of you, try it." The person voicing the video then proceeded to read out all of the directions. For every single day. Just in case you didn't catch on that "Prepare Part B: 2 hours, Review Part A: 30 minutes" means that you should start studying a new chunk of material and also review the material you started studying the day before, under "Prepare Part A: 2 hour". All the way to day 5, all 4 chunks of material. Narrated for your convenience.
Because by the time you get to graduate school, you might still have difficulty reading and comprehending material that isn't read out loud* to you.
*I understand that for students who have vision difficulties, this might be quite helpful. And I'm a fan of people highlighting main ideas/the important pieces verbally when they give a handout or a powerpoint lecture. But don't insult our intelligence - even if you can't see what's on the paper, the explanation could be much broader than reading out every step. "On Day 1, divide your material to be studied into 4 parts of about equal difficulty. Study the first part of the material for two hours. This could include a, b, c, etc. On subsequent days, add a new section of the material (for x or y amount of time) and help facilitate your retention of previous information by going back and reviewing the material covered previously. Continue to add new material daily, making sure to review previously studied material, until Day 5 when you can review all of the material and administer a self-test."
/end rant
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
what do you want?
I'm craving. Something. There's an apple sitting next to me, and a big part of my brain is saying "Just go ahead! Eat it!" Another part of my brain is explaining "You know better, you just ate a very large meal. The only thing eating that apple is going to do is push you into uncomfortably full territory, and you'll feel guilty about eating when you're not hungry to boot." Instead of my usual MO (eat the apple anyway, feel guiltier because I knew consciously that I didn't really want it), I'm sitting. Asking myself, "What do I want? Right now, in this moment?"
Is it food? No, I'm pretty sure I don't want food, I can't identify a particular salty or sweet or savory desire, beyond just the mechanical satisfaction of chewing and swallowing.
Am I thirsty? I don't think so. I did just drink a restaurant huge glass of water, and 1.5 of diet coke to boot. I'm pretty sure I should be decently hydrated for the moment.
I did have a moment in class today, thinking about kink. A bit of a return to the end of my last post - what do I want in kink? It started when our professor was describing her father, his last days in the hospital before he passed away, and how despite all of his professional and personal accomplishments, in the end he was reduced to being an old man dying of xyz conditions. And that even though his daughter has been a nurse for decades, he still got pressure ulcers. They didn't kill him, he was going to die anyway, but they made the end worse than it needed to be. She explained that now when she takes care of a patient, she prioritizes those "routine" care procedures, because now she thinks of her father and does it as almost a service to him. Excellent integument care, every time.
At that point I could feel myself tearing up. It's been 3.5 years since my father died. There are so so many things that I wish I had done differently, things that fill me with guilt and regret. Shame. I know I have to deal with these emotions, that I need to find some way to get them out, to feel at peace so that I can move forward and provide excellent care to every patient I encounter, regardless of if they do or do not remind me of him in some way. My first thought was about going to the mental health center on campus. My second thought was about getting someone to beat me.
It made me wonder about what that would look like, what I would need for that to actually be helpful. Right now my emotions, my tears, are so close to the surface. Very little would be required to break that grip, and as much as I want to let go, I also don't want that to be my first impact scene with someone - a few smacks and then a flood of tears in front of someone I hardly know and certainly don't want to ask for comfort. So how do I approach someone with the intention of building trust in order to ask them to be willing to take on this burden of my emotions? To help me let mental pain out in this odd-but-slightly-more-acceptable way than just randomly crying?
It feels like there's a bubble in my chest, that I'm sitting on top of trying to hold it in place, to make my body re-absorb the gas and diffuse it away, but the bubble is really oil and my blood can't emulsify it and it needs to be let out some other way. Catharsis. Release. I'm reluctant to ask GF for this, because then I'd be telling her the story of what happened and that's such an emotionally vulnerable place for me. More than talking about my orientation, or sexual history, or depression, or pretty much anything else. I know she'd probably be willing to try, but I feel that she'd be nice, too afraid to push in the same way as someone who isn't in that kind of an emotional romantic relationship with me. The way I want to be pushed. In general in kink, but particularly in this situation.
Is it food? No, I'm pretty sure I don't want food, I can't identify a particular salty or sweet or savory desire, beyond just the mechanical satisfaction of chewing and swallowing.
Am I thirsty? I don't think so. I did just drink a restaurant huge glass of water, and 1.5 of diet coke to boot. I'm pretty sure I should be decently hydrated for the moment.
I did have a moment in class today, thinking about kink. A bit of a return to the end of my last post - what do I want in kink? It started when our professor was describing her father, his last days in the hospital before he passed away, and how despite all of his professional and personal accomplishments, in the end he was reduced to being an old man dying of xyz conditions. And that even though his daughter has been a nurse for decades, he still got pressure ulcers. They didn't kill him, he was going to die anyway, but they made the end worse than it needed to be. She explained that now when she takes care of a patient, she prioritizes those "routine" care procedures, because now she thinks of her father and does it as almost a service to him. Excellent integument care, every time.
At that point I could feel myself tearing up. It's been 3.5 years since my father died. There are so so many things that I wish I had done differently, things that fill me with guilt and regret. Shame. I know I have to deal with these emotions, that I need to find some way to get them out, to feel at peace so that I can move forward and provide excellent care to every patient I encounter, regardless of if they do or do not remind me of him in some way. My first thought was about going to the mental health center on campus. My second thought was about getting someone to beat me.
It made me wonder about what that would look like, what I would need for that to actually be helpful. Right now my emotions, my tears, are so close to the surface. Very little would be required to break that grip, and as much as I want to let go, I also don't want that to be my first impact scene with someone - a few smacks and then a flood of tears in front of someone I hardly know and certainly don't want to ask for comfort. So how do I approach someone with the intention of building trust in order to ask them to be willing to take on this burden of my emotions? To help me let mental pain out in this odd-but-slightly-more-acceptable way than just randomly crying?
It feels like there's a bubble in my chest, that I'm sitting on top of trying to hold it in place, to make my body re-absorb the gas and diffuse it away, but the bubble is really oil and my blood can't emulsify it and it needs to be let out some other way. Catharsis. Release. I'm reluctant to ask GF for this, because then I'd be telling her the story of what happened and that's such an emotionally vulnerable place for me. More than talking about my orientation, or sexual history, or depression, or pretty much anything else. I know she'd probably be willing to try, but I feel that she'd be nice, too afraid to push in the same way as someone who isn't in that kind of an emotional romantic relationship with me. The way I want to be pushed. In general in kink, but particularly in this situation.
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