Mousie suggest that I haven’t yet accepted that a submissive persona is a whole lotta different from submissive sexual appetite and behaviour. But I see the whole subject differently. Let me explain.
The problem for me isn’t that I wouldn’t recognize the difference between submission in all aspects of life and submission in just sexual aspects of life. I know and have always thought that submissively sexually inclined people can be, and it would make most sense if they were, in control in a lot of other areas in their life. That’s why they would seek out a form of losing control. They want someone else to decide for them, make them do things, carry them, even if just for a while. I don’t address painsluttery hear, because it’s not so important to me, but also corporeal punishment and restraint is an important part of gambling away your right to decide for yourself, as it were.
I thought so even before I ever realized I had these tendencies that actually make me one of them. A submissive.
And it’s funny that Mousie should address being 12 years into martial arts. I also have been heavily bodybuilding and weight training for 7 or so years, because I wanted to be so strong that I’d never have to fight anyone again. Can you see how that sort of a need to build my very real and tangible armour could be a sign of insufficient mental capacity? I can, now. I’ve stopped weight training, almost completely, to finally address my mental defence system. There is no need for me to be a price fighter as long as I can handle my feelings and not be thrown out of balance by everybody else’s. I still wouldn’t win in a street fight with a man, but I might not be in a street fight, with a man or a woman, if I wouldn’t see everything as a threat.
That is my biggest problem. I see everyone in every situation as a potential threat that I have to shield myself from. It makes honest and discoursive, sharing relationships, if not impossible, very very hard. And I close up so easily and feel so betrayed even after a minor conflict.
My biggest problem obviously stems from tackling the very real abuse that lives in my every cell, my thoughts and my heart. It’s a part of me, the way I move my body when I’m near other people, the way I answer to stressful situations. Every little detail shows how I have been abused. How I have lived in fear. I dare not trust people, because they have not been trustworthy, when I was most vulnerable. My father was not a patient man, is still not, and with my broken family I have also had to live with the abusive behaviour of both my stepmother and stepfather from a very early age. They all had anger management issues and I was the best target, because I’d always stand up for our rights. I’d always break up the fight, even when my stepfather was strangling my mother and no one else dared to enter the room. I was twelve.
That’s why I have such a strong self-protection system, that’s why I get so upset when someone even hints that I’m really being abused now in this relationship or I imagine that someone could see it that way. I can’t yet address it, because I haven’t yet addressed the abuse that made me who I am. It weighs me down, because I’ve not had strength to own my abuse. My mantra is and has been I am not the one to submit, I am not the one to be abused. Even if I were, I wasn’t. It wasn’t me. I won’t allow myself to own the victim status. I can’t see myself as a victim. So I must have chosen this, the abuse I’ve lived to tell about. It must have been my fault, of my own making. This is the way the tell rape victims try to cope, and this is how I’ve coped thus far in my life. Not anymore.
I know this is not abuse. What we do and how we are is a beautiful and loving and caring thing. It’s nothing like abuse at all, but I get upset. My body gets upset because of the similarities. It remembers. And it’s nothing I can just decide to not take into consideration. It’s not something that just goes away if I intellectualize the contents and see how far apart they are. I am enthusiasticly consenting to and demanding this, after all. But it still stirs something in me, that I have not yet sorted out. Some people never do, I see it in their blog comments, in their defencive behaviour or careful wordings. I see they have the same tactics I use.
But I don’t want to be on the defence anymore. I want to be able to love and not lose my trust in the whole humankind if Wonderboy just loses it for a while. He has his own traumas to tackle, I know them, I can feel them in the way he tenses when he thinks I’m blaming him, in the way he always cries when we’ve made up. He has to have a right to be a human too. He has to have the right to not feel guilty about wanting to do these things to me. He has to have the right to know that I’ll be here for him, I’ll not forsake him because I got scared and couldn’t trust him again.
And that’s why I’m in treatment. Not because I can’t face being a submissively inclined lover, but because I’ve been abused and I haven’t been able to put the blame where it needs to be.