BDSM, Hurting, Learning to negotiate, Love, Self-Questioning, Stereotypes

I Was Made To Believe There’s Something Wrong With Me

I don’t usually post songs, because I rarely find other people’s chosen ones amusing or touching, but I have to post this.

Janelle Monáe’s Cold War is just exceptionally touching to me. Just look at her face. Just hear her.

(1:30)

I’m trying to find my peace

I was made to believe there’s something wrong with me

and it hurts my heart

Lord have mercy, ain’t it plain to see?

This is a Cold war, you better know what you’re fighting for

this is a Cold war, you will know what you’re fighting for.

I love the way she puts it. I was made to believe there’s something wrong with me. It’s not just my problem that I grew up to hate myself, to consider my desires wrong and sick. I still face it – not being able to discuss my sex life or my love life with almost anyone lest I be shunned. My desires are seen as perverse, abusive, a result of abuse, a sickness, you name it. Not love, never love.

Delila’s Tomio wrote an excellent post about Submission not being pathological. He wrote that people who are into BDSM are more likely to have faced their traumas and to be able to talk about them openly, because what BDSM really requires of us practicing it, is facing ourselves as naked as we are. There are no hiding places, when you venture down this path.

I used to face my rape a lot of times, when Wonderboy would be more rough. I used to face it sometimes, when he just came on top of me. It was scary. His cock was scary, because it could hurt me even if he didn’t mean to. Surrendering to the idea that I actually enjoy the pain. That any pain he gives me is a gift and a informed choice, a thoughtful deed, changed all that.

I haven’t thought about the rape for a long time now, and this occured to me yesterday reading Tomio’s post. I think I’ve really finally found peace with it. I don’t know, if I ever had in a vanilla relationship. It’s just been so there, between us, when I come over and over, when he play rapes me, and later I fall into pieces.

Maybe our progression to collaring would’ve been more swift, if I had never been abused. Maybe not. I don’t think this is as thing you can just find and decide to pick up. It’s a journey that needs two people, communication and love. We had to communicate, because otherwise there would’ve been, and there was, huge consequences. Trying anything was always scary, because neither of us knew, how I would take it.

Maybe if I’d been all fine with everything, Wonderboy would’ve never gone to such great lenghts to make me feel safe. Maybe he wouldn’t have developed such a keen eye to my distress. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this wonderful, exhilarating situation now, if I had been fine when we met. Who knows? But I know one thing.

I was made to believe there’s something wrong with me. And there’s not. Not everybody’s into this much surrender and I don’t expect them to. Just like not most of the people are gay. No one is getting hurt here. Quite to the contary, this has helped me heal. What could possibly be wrong with that?

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One thought on “I Was Made To Believe There’s Something Wrong With Me

  1. My desires are seen as perverse, abusive, a result of abuse, a sickness, you name it. Not love, never love.

    This. So much this. What if I had known earlier just how much this had to do with love for me?

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