Making my Case (Owning my Failure) for the Last Time

I am, unwillingly, at the end of the part of my life during which I called myself His slave.  Actions of mine changed our lives forever, and ended the possibility for me to ever again live as "His," in that sense.  He will not have it, and I cannot blame Him.  I understand it is my doing, and I accept that I cannot do anything to change any of it.  There is no going backward.  In this, as in all other things in life, forward is the only direction.

We remain.  Lovers.  Partners.  Joined, inextricably, through all of it.  We are at the beginning of something entirely new, and I do hope and believe that it will turn out to be good.  The ending of my slavery is not an ending of all; only that one seminal bit of my own life...

And still, I cannot seem to stop arguing my own case in my head.  It is as if I am forever standing before the seat of judgement.  I have, to this point remained voiceless, and have not spoken out on my own behalf.

I lived my life in service to Him for all the years we had together before everything crashed.  From morning until night, each and every day, my focus was on Him.  What He wanted, what He chose, what He needed -- that was what I worked to make a reality.  I supported Him.  I honored Him.  I followed the path He set for us.  

Hind sight is always very clear, isn't it?  Not very helpful, but unerringly clear.  I know, now, that at some point, the path we followed turned toward addiction and codependency.  I am sure I knew we were on dangerous ground, and like a coward, I remained mostly silent.  On the rare occasion when I would choose to confront the problems besetting us, I quickly lost my courage in the force of His predictable anger.  Those who would declare that I failed as a slave would be correct if they would point to my devastating cowardice.

The final, cataclysmic choices that I made when all had fallen into crisis were, I believe, only the final, inevitable playing out of my failing.

I fell into the great fallacy of the "perfect BDSM slave."  I gave away my power when I should have held it available for the "exchange" we so desired.  Each time I silenced my own inner knowing, I gave away the thing that He most valued.  Each time I watched Him act to destroy Himself, I betrayed the trust that was the foundation of who we hoped to be together.  I laid before Him my weakness when I should have served Him with my strength and my courage. 

A slave ought not to be a doormat or a robot.  A master deserves the fullness a slave can give:  heart and power and intellect -- all dedicated to His service.  I talked myself out of that giving, exchanging it instead for a sense of being "loved" and "liked" by Him.  I made myself willing to let Him be harmed rather than accept that He might be angry with me.  

It was only at the end, when I saw the devastation that loomed for us all, that I remembered what I had promised:  to serve Him with my whole being.  In the end, I believe I saved Him, and saved all of us.  Finally, I acted, as I ought to have done years earlier.  There was huge cost to that; for Him, for me, for us all -- but I will forever believe that, in choosing to return to courage and power, I behaved as a slave ought to have done.  

It is now over.  We have survived, and turned to a new way.  He does not want my slavery anymore, and so it is.  Something new will grow in that place in our lives.  What I leave here is the marker of my story for any who might follow this path.

swan 

Recovery, BDSM, Codependency, and Polyamory

I am fully aware that, while becoming sober and recovering from alcoholism is the consuming focus in our family at present, it isn't what interests everyone.  So, be forewarned, this post will be related to issues of recovery, sobriety, and codependency as they impact our BDSM and poly lifestyle -- and are impacted by it.  If you don't want to hear about all of that, I'd suggest clicking off to someone else's place.

 

This week, He passed the four month mark in His journey into sobriety.  For all of us, it has been an intense learning time; a time of healing; a time to understand and recognize the various ways in which each of us has played our part in creating our unique alcoholic family system.  For me, that has meant coming to understand the ways that I am codependent with Him and with T, and learning the skills needed to create a healthier way of relating.

Codependency comes in many forms (and it seems I am really good at most of them):

• wanting or needing a knight in shining armor to save you from loneliness and the vagaries of life is codependent.
• Believing that you cannot express your feelings because you will not be accepted by other people is codependent.
• Assuming that you need to be forever strong and vigilant or your family will fall into crisis and disaster is codependent.
• Constantly taking care of other people without their consent is codependent.
• Trying to control others, even if it’s in the name of their best interests, is codependent.
• Being unwilling or unable to set healthy boundaries or limits for yourself is codependent.
• Talking yourself into remaining in circumstance that are physically or emotionally abusive is codependent.

I've learned that I really do need to learn so many things.  Here's the not so short list:

• I am coming to recognize the places where I've wished that my relationships might "save" me and give me security.  There are all sorts of reasons that we create intimate relationships, but I seem to include a "calculation" about the safe harbor factor when I am picking mates.  I did that in entering into my marriage -- and it was an utter disaster.  Then I repeated the same mistake in a different form when I connected with Master.  In a mostly unconscious move, I convinced myself that He would save me from that bad marriage, make life exciting and fulfilling, and finally validate the dark and secret part of me that knew I was sick and wrong and perverse.  I was sure He would always want me, and so I was sure that I'd finally belong somewhere and be safe.  Of course, I never really said any of that to Him or anyone else -- not even to myself.  All of that foolishness is a child's longing, and not the way of loving one expects from an adult woman.  I am learning that I make my own safety.  Through all this turmoil, I've finally come to grips with the fact that I ultimately belong to myself -- after all, none of us can give to another that which we do not possess to begin with. 
• I've learned that I have to get very much more focused on my communications.  I really need to work at making my views and feelings clear and unambiguous.  I'm fine when I want to express something light or happy or fun, and I can jabber your ears off about things that interest me from an intellectual or academic perspective.  But when I'm conflicted, or experiencing emotions and reactions that seem "negative" or difficult to me, I am inclined to clam up and go into emotional hiding.  I've been practicing saying the plain truth about those moments lately, and I've been surprised to find that I really don't burst into flames when I express anger or unhappiness.  I can just say, "I'm mad," or "I don't like that," and life goes on.  Who knew?  Not surprisingly, He is far more responsive to me now that He is given straightforward information about what's happening with me. 
• I understand that I need to learn to slow down my reactions and responses so that I give myself the time to think before I jump in and try and fix things or control things or manipulate things with other people.  I don't need to have an answer for every problem, and I don't need to take every difficult feeling that another person experiences and "make it better."  I can sit with someone else's pain or sadness and just be there.  Trying to talk them out of whatever is going on for them doesn't help them, and it really is an ego exercise for me.  I'm not being "compassionate" or "friendly" or even "kind" in that kind of anxious meddling.  I am being arrogant; convinced that I know what is best for that person, and sending the message that they don't know their own hearts or minds. 
• I have begun to acknowledge that I have limits and boundaries.  My lifestyle choices and orientations notwithstanding, I am a fully human creature.  There are things that I need and want -- and there are other things that I cannot and will not tolerate.  I want to be engaged in a power-based relationship with Him.  I think that works for the two of us.  He is happier when He is "in control" of our dynamic, and I am happier when I can cede that control to Him.  I want His happiness, and I want to be part of that, but I know that I can't "make" Him happy.  I can do things that give Him joy, and I can be His companion and lover and friend and champion.  I will do those things and I will play those parts in His life if He allows it, but I can't make Him or any other person happy.  Too, I am responsible for my own happiness.  He loves me, and that is a wonderful gift, but the decision to be happy remains with me.  I have to be willing to work to create the life that makes me happy; to care for myself; to tend to my own health and my own sanity.  I have to be willing to risk being honestly who and what I am, and I have to trust that the love we share will make it possible for each of us to accommodate the limitations we have and build a rich and fulfilling life together.

BDSM is a lifestyle choice and an expression of my sexual and erotic presentation in the world.  I masturbate to BDSM fantasies, and I do not achieve orgasm without control and pain images playing in my mind.  I've long believed that I would do anything that He asked of me, and I believe that is true to the extent that I am capable.  What I cannot do; what I cannot endure; what I cannot tolerate are absolute barriers and limits.  Whatever I might imagine or wish for (in the name of being a "real" or "good" or "true" slave or submisive), I have learned that I do have real limits and they aren't about what I like or want.  They simply are, and I cannot knock them down through the force of my wanting or will. 


He can't control everything.  Both of us are learning that trying to do that was not healthy for Him -- can never be healthy for Him.  He isn't perfect.  We've always known that, but there was the community ethos that led us into the fantasy game of setting Him up to play that part.  Asking a fallible human person to be perfect; to always do the right thing; to know exactly what to do in every situation; and to ultimately shoulder all the responsibility for every decision and choice is too much to ask.  That is a burden that is too heavy.  Even if there is a thrill in playing that game, the costs are too high.  He has relinquished much of His control, and together we are carefully exploring what there is of that dynamic that might be good and healthy for the two of us.  This time, we hope to build together something with conscious intent -- and have it be strong and fulfilling. 

Codependent behaviors impact relationships, and that is no less true in a polyamorous relationship like ours than it would be in a more traditional pairing.  What is becoming clear is that in a relationship like ours, things are more complex.  There are three of us, not two.  We have more connections, and more ways to behave codependently with each other.  We have to pay attention to each of the combinations, and make sure that, in fixing the problems on one side, we aren't recreating them somewhere else -- with the other person, or inside the other coupling.  I know that I have to be careful to resist the impulse to meddle in the relationship between T and Master.  They have their own unique dynamic, and it is theirs.  As things spiraled down over these last few years, I got into the habit of pointing out to one or the other of them what they "should" be doing with regard to that relationship, and I would regularly interpret between them -- carrying messages and telling tales.  By the time we hit the crisis, I'd find myself trying to protect, or trying to defend, or trying to explain -- when I should have been insisting that they deal directly with one another and resolve their own issues, even as I should have been focusing on doing that with my issues. 


So, yes, we have addiction and recovery and codependency stuff multiplied -- the sheer numerosity of polyamory transposed onto the complexity of  all that other business.  It is dizzying sometimes, and we are continually amazed by the ubiquitous nature of the challenges and impacts, while simultaneously we are thrilled by what we can see of the positive benefits and shifts we are experiencing.  There are days when we look around and imagine a life ahead that might turn out to be way better than any of us might have thought possible.


swan