Christmas Tree Fairy

After Christmas last year, when it came time to take down the tree(s) we were deeply immersed in the planning and thinking about the Master and T's impending weight loss surgeries. It was the middle of January, and we'd just made the decision to go ahead with His surgery, and we were just a week out from making the same choice with T as well. We were looking ahead to some pretty intimidating weeks and months, and we were also anticipating some great benefits to accrue as we passed through the process. On that day, deep in the depths of the winter, I declared that the whole year would be "Christmas" for us, and that by way of marking that reality, I was leaving the Christmas tree up and lighting the lights as long as we needed to do that. My little Christmas tree stayed up well into March when He, Himself asked me to take it down. At that point, the tree had stood in my living room for just about four months.

After this last month, after this last weekend, I am wondering if we weren't, after all, premature about taking it down. I don't really believe that there was any "Christmas magic" that would have protected us against this last round of surgery, but leaving the tree up would have kept me from spending the last weekend serving as the "Christmas Tree Fairy."

First, I put up my little tree. He'd been increasingly wistfully noticing all the trees up in all the windows in our neighborhood. My tree isn't too tough. It has to be assembled, and of course the ornaments have to be put on it. I had it all in place and ready to start decorating when I remembered that last year (in March) I'd thrown out my old Christmas lights -- those ones that I'd carried with me from place to place ever since I was newlywed at the age of 20... Yup. Thirty-four years. It was definitely time, but of course, it meant that I had to go out and buy some new ones before I could go ahead with the decorations.

While I was rummaging around out in the garage, I found the little 32" fiber-optic lighted tree that we bought two years ago to put in Master's mother's room. We didn't do anything at all with it last winter. The memories were too raw. But there it was, so I pulled it out and set it up with all its little tiny decorations, and put it in a pot out on the patio. It looks very cute sitting on the table outside our window.

The tree that Master and T have is ENORMOUS. It is a huge, pre-lit beastie that has to be put together because it comes in three sections. The biggest, center section weighs a ton. It is too heavy for T, and too heavy for Master (especially right now). So, Sunday morning, after breakfast; after T left to go visit with her mom; I went over and wrestled the monster tree into place in her living room. I plugged and unplugged the various cords, until I finally figured out how to make all the pre-lit lights actually light up. It is a stunning thing, but what a hassle!

Finally, Master and I went to visit His dad. We had a little "music-box" Christmas tree from Hallmark that we wanted to give him. Arriving at "the home," we ran Grandpa down in the dining room and hauled him back to his apartment. There we unwrapped the little musical tree which was a great hit. Then Master began asking His dad about a tree that we'd ordered for Him and Master's mother two years ago. It is a beautiful 18", pre-lit tree, hung with hand-painted Thomas Kincaid ornaments. Grandpa looked befuddled, and declared that he didn't remember any such tree. When we asked about whether it might be in his storage, Grandpa was sure that the only thing in the storage were some old suitcases. After awhile, as Master kept probing, I offered to just take a walk to the storage and have a look. Grandpa gave me his key, and off I went. Lo and behold, there it was, right in the front, right in its original box. I grabbed it, and hauled it back to the apartment. With just a bit of "perkafication," it was as good as new, and duly installed there in Grandpa's place. His new lady friend was summoned to come see the sights, and he was thrilled with the whole business.

Just call me the "Christmas Tree Fairy."

swan

Bad Dreams

I am having awful, disturbing, scary dreams. Almost every night. Sometimes, I get so agitated that He wakes up and, finding me fussing and thrashing in my sleep, wakes me up. But then, if I go back to sleep, the dark images come pouring back.

This morning, I woke up in the early hours before dawn, shaken from the imagery of my dreams. I'd been completely immersed in a dream where I was climbing ladders up into winter-bare trees against a stark gray sky. I was dressed, head to toe, in a heavy, black woolen coat and a strange, almost derby-like black hat. In my dream, it was my job to knock dead blackbirds out of the trees so that they would not fall onto passersby on the sidewalks below. Some of the birds were dry and dessicated, and when they would hit the frozen ground they would shatter into a pile of feathers and "dust." Others of the dead birds were swollen and putrid. These birds would hit the ground with a sickening splat and release a nauseating stink into the freezing air.

I woke up feeling horribly distressed and upset about this particular dream. It has bothered me all day, leaving me feeling strung out -- raw and tender and angry and jittery. I don't put much stock in dream interpretation, generally, but this one feels so compelling. Here's some of what I found, looking around for what it might all signify:

• To dream of dead or dying birds, foretells a period of coming disappointments. You will find yourself worrying over problems that are constantly on your mind.
• To dream that you are climbing a tree, signifies that you will achieve your career goals and reach those high places in society. The degree of difficulty to which you climb the tree will measure the speed.
• To dream that you are climbing up a ladder, suggests that you have reached a new level of achievement. It is symbolic of prosperity, hard work and your efforts.
• To wear an overcoat in your dream, suggests that you are shielding yourself from life's hurt. You may be trying to put up a wall.
• To dream that something stinks, suggests that you are not being supported by your social circle or your environment.
• To see or wear a hat in your dream, indicates that you are hiding an aspect of yourself or that you are covering up something. Alternatively, it represents your attitude or the various roles and responsibilities you have in your waking life.
• To see a blackbird in your dream, signifies a lack of motivation. You are not utilizing your full potential. Alternatively, it represents jealousy.
• Black symbolizes the unknown, unconscious, danger, mystery, darkness, death, mourning, hate or malice.

Arrrghhhh!

swan

Poly and the Medical Community

Just a few days after we got home from this latest hospitalization, an email arrived in my mail box from someone who obviously reads at the blog(s). I don't always have a good sense of how many people are reading and thinking about us and our lives and the stories we tell about that. Even though we do track stats, and even though I am aware of the statistics, it really does surprise me when some stranger pops up wondering just how this really does work. My correspondent wrote:

My question is, how does the rest of the world view your poly situation, and how do you deal with it?

And specifically, in the hospital situation, I assume people walk into your Master's room and see you and assume you are "his wife." Then they wonder who T is, when they walk in the next day. And I assume, people being nosy including me, they want to know which of you is a sister or cousin or neighbor, and which is his wife. Do you tell strangers the whole story? Or dodge the question? Do you tell people that T is his wife (I am assuming that's the "legal" situation) and that you are a friend, and does that make you feel as yucky as I think it would, to have this special relationship with him and feel compelled to deny it?

My first reaction to all of that is to say that I am pretty sure that I've already written about some of this before. We, unfortunately, have had more than just a few occasions to deal with healthcare professionals ( and some who are hardly professional), and since it is always an "interesting" experience, I'm sure we've discussed it before. Those who are interested in these stories can find them here and here.

So, I wonder, in responding to this enquiry, what else there is to say...

The first thing that occurs to me is that we three have gotten much more comfortable in dealing with the situations that set this kind of questioning up. We've stopped worrying about it, stopped fussing, stopped anticipating HUGE challenges to us or our family configuration. We've gained a sense of comfort and of "being alright," and that goes a long way toward forestalling most questions. We don't make our lifestyle an issue. We don't put it in anyone's face. We are simply who we are with one another, and we don't do that any differently in medical situations that we might at home. It isn't flashy, and it isn't aggressive, and it doesn't provoke much of an overt response generally. It could be that "the system" and "the society" have shifted into a place that is more tolerant and accepting of differences, but I suspect that the bigger change has been in the way we see ourselves and our simple right to be who we are.

Another thing that I think might be of note at this point is to recognize that nearly all the medical professionals we've encountered have just seemed to not care. Our family constellation is not something that they need to know about. Their concern, and their entire focus, is on the medical issue at hand -- on creating the circumstances of healing and wellness. They don't have the time to worry about which of us sleeps with which other ones. It just isn't germane. The occasional question, indicating some significant level of curiosity, almost always comes from some youngster in the beginning days of their medical career. I'd suspect that in those instances, we are seeing inexperience rather than anything that would constitute pervasive negative judgement on the part of the medical profession.

Another part of the dynamic around this is that people see what they expect to see. We've often referred to our approach to being "in public" as "hiding in plain sight." If we just go along and don't act like we are somehow out of the ordinary, most people never really notice, or if they do notice, they draw their own conclusions based on their own assumptions -- and that is almost never even close to what we are really up to... Most often, we are left with the impression that people look at us and assume that T and I are lesbian lovers, and that Master is just the poor cuckold husband of my bull-dyke lover. Gotta love it!

As to the other part of my correspondent's question -- I am not "the wife." T is His legal wife. It cannot and will not be otherwise. If the social circumstances were different; if it were possible to legally make us both "wife," I am sure we would do that. I can get myself all wound up about the issues around our society's lack of marriage equality, but there is very little upside to doing that. No amount of angst is going to move the needle on that issue.

swan

The Bodice Ripper Effect

Maybe it would be best to start this with a disclaimer -- things are going to get into "think" mode here for the foreseeable future. There isn't going to be any "real" BDSM going on in our household until Master has some time to heal and recover. Life goes on, of course, but I'm inagining that reading about convalescence (and the support work around convalescence) just doesn't do it for most of the usual readers here.

I've been pondering the "flip side" of the discussion that I got into in the post about Dominants. I'm pretty clear that there are plenty of people who struggle needlessly, as they attempt to create power exchange dynamics, precisely because there is a sort of shared mythology about how Dominance and submission SHOULD be. How much easier things would be if Dominants were free to want what they wanted in the way they wanted without every submissive and would be submissive with an Internet connection dissecting, analyzing, and evaluating every decision, command, and move.


But as I think more about that, I am not entirely sure that it is all a result of our immersion in the fantastical stew of cyber-BDSM. There is more, I suspect, that drives submissive women (and I am not going to even try to broaden this discussion to submissive males) to an almost frantic insistence that Dominants "follow the rules," and "stay consistent," and "pay attention," and "create romance and excitement."

For lack of a better descriptor, I'm calling the whole syndrome "The Bodice-Ripper Effect." For those who are not acquainted with this particular literary genre, the romance novel is surely the laughing stock of the print fiction universe. The romance novel fan is an easy mark for the book snobs among us. Readers of espionage stories, and readers of science fiction, and those who read detective stories all get viewed as more intellectually advanced than those who read an occasional Harlequin romance.

In general, a "Bodice-Ripper" is usually an explicit romantic novel; usually in a historical setting and always with a plot involving the seduction of the heroine. These books owe much in style to the work of English romantic novelists like Jane Austen and Emily Bronte. Nevertheless, the term itself is American. The first reference in print is from The New York Times, December 1980:
"Women too have their pornography: Harlequin romances, novels of 'sweet savagery,' - bodice-rippers."

Whether or not one is a fan of this kind of literature, I wonder if many of us don't harbor secret fantasies that play out in our minds like the most lurid of romance novel plots. For women with a submissive bent, I think that it is easy to imagine a strong, virile, and handsome man who will come storming onto the scene, sweep us off our feet, ravish us, leave us breathless ... and guiltless.

Guiltless. That, I believe, is the root of the "bodice-ripper" fantasy. No matter how explicit the sex scenes, no matter how depraved the behavior, no matter how the heroine strays from her roots, her training, her upbringing -- it is never her fault, because it is never in her control. Entering into a "bodice-ripper" relationship can seem like an easy solution to all of life's quandries and challenges. Just give the responsibility to the Dominant. Hand over control, and then sit back and go with the flow.

Those of us who are oriented to SM, are not immune from the social stigma and public judgement that applies to our lifestyle. As it scales up and down through the varying levels of intensity, it is easier and easier to begin to imagine an intermediary who might absorb a good bit of the shock and alienation that we are subject too. I think it is the very rare submissive that does not, at least now and then, contemplate putting all the responsibility and decision making in the hands of our partner. It would be a relief for many to be absolved of all blame while engaging in more and more socially suspect erotic/sexual behaviors.

Just like the myths that indicate that all dominants must behave in very specific ways, our internal stories tell us that it must be possible to submit enough to be cared for, kept safe, and given the ticket out of the moments when real life is too harsh or scary or challenging.

Except it doesn't work like that. Life is not a fairy tale. It isn't a storybook. Life requires work and thoughtful intention, and careful tending to the loves that sustain us. We ought to stay vigilant for the convoluted thought processes that lead us into inevitable moments of frustration and disappointment.

swan

About Dominants

I found a recent post, written by Measha, poignant -- to say the least (italics are mine):

My husband is not a Dom. He's not a Master, nor is he a Top. He is simply himself... he will never give a good damn if I shave or don't shave. He probably wouldn't even notice if I was wearing panties to bed or not on most nights, and most likely doesn't have a preference, anyway. He doesn't notice any act of submission on my part unless it something that he is looking for in a sexual way ...As much as I enjoyed exploring my submissive side in that way...I was alone in it. He was merely a spectator who would throw out a command now and then ...I didn't drag him down that road. I stood to the side and tried to follow...but there was nothing to follow...He will never care about my routine, my habits, or anything other than if I've done the shopping, washed his underwear and kept the kids all safe and fed while he was at work....maybe a little micro managing here and there would be nice...

The sense of disappointment and frustration is soooooo clear in all of that. That was the thing I responded to first ... hoping that somehow these two could find a way to work through whatever there is that isn't working, and find their way to a place that is "good," whatever that might be. I still feel that way.

Sometimes, some bit of writing, or some set of ideas will capture me and I will find I just keep coming back and chewing on it. This has been like that. As I thought about it further, I began to get to my usual take on power-exchange relationship dynamics. It is not possible for a person to both give up control and hold onto it at the same time. The most commonly occuring challenge in the beginning of a power-based relationship, whatever label we put on it, is that we almost always come into it with hopes and dreams and needs and wants -- and many of those have been closely held in our most secret hearts for a very long time. That simple reality makes it very difficult to accept that the "control" we crave and the submission we seek may appear in our lives in a form that isn't at all what we imagined, and may come to fruition in ways that we do not like much. Being the crotchety old lady that I've gotten to be, I am inclined to tell the younger ones among us that it is simple really: "submissives submit." Right. This I believe, and I think that many would be submissive women come to the point of disappointment and frustration when they fail to persuade their partners to provide the sort of dominance that they imagine.

Measha insists that she loves her husband and is adamant that nothing will change that. And that makes me wonder -- why does she love this man? What is it about him that makes him worthy of such fierce and determined love? Because, I'd almost bet that, if he's a guy that inspires that sort of love, he may be a better candidate for "dominant" partner than she thinks he is. After all, dominance is really not about spanking on schedule, or setting up and enforcing pages and pages of silly rules, or continually looking for reasons to punish, or abusing, or micro-managing,or collecting a vast array of toys, or demanding this thing or that. It is true that there are partners who find that some or all of those kinds of things excite and connect them. There are people who take pleasure in a wide variety of sexual/erotic practices that are based in the deliberate creation of uneven power dynamics. There is not a thing wrong with any of that -- it can be great fun and sexy as hell.

Dominance (and submission for that matter) may not look anything at all like what one might think based on some of the lurid tales that are splashed all across the Internet. The preponderance of that material is pornographic fantasy junk that has no more relationship to reality than Disney's "Little Mermaid" movie does. Standing around (metaphorically speaking) with your hands on your hips and a mental checklist of what your "dominant" partner ought to be doing or not doing is very likely going to lead you to the exact kind of disappointment and frustration that Measha is feeling. Power exchange relationships get formed in the real world, between real people. There are inevitably real life challenges that have to be negotiated and accommodated, and there is no percentage in demanding or attempting to create a dynamic that goes counter to the inherent nature and temperament of the parties.

Back to Measha's declared love for her husband, whether or not he ever comes to be the dominant she once imagined and wished for, I'd say that if we are evaluating a partner as to suitability for assuming the dominant role in a relationship, we might consider this pretty good list of traits that one might expect or require (borrowed from Associated Content):

Honesty
Trustworthiness
Integrity
Self-Control
Sense of Humor (even at himself)
Capacity to Love, Be Loved and to Express that Love
Desire to Learn and Grow, both for himself and for his partner
Dependability

The one thing that I'd add to that list is SELF AWARE.

The ability to believe in and rely on a dominant; the ability to be certain of his love; the comfort of knowing that He can laugh at Himself, and the silly things that happen in real life and real love, the knowledge that He can take the lead as partners grow and change -- all of those things are essential and foundational to making power exchange work. All the rest is window dressing and style and personal preference.

I don't think that every vanilla husband is necessarily qualified to be a good dominant. I've lived the futility of trying to make someone who is NOT dominant into a dominant. Hopeless. On the other hand, I'm not willing to write off all the genuinely good and decent fellows who just don't see any reason to fuss about silly details and rules. I am suspicious that many of those fellows might be just fine in the dominant role if they were left to their own devices to figure out what they wanted that role to look like, and what was important to them. Women who want to explore submission can "kill" the whole project with their insistence that their men dominate them in precisely the way that they want to be dominated. That isn't ever going to be it.

swan

Frankenstein?

This was our first day at home. Our alarm clock went off first thing this morning, at 5:45, just as it does every single school day. That was an opportunity to "sleep in" actually since my usual get-up time while we were staying in the hospital was 4:30 AM.

Generally, here at home, I pile out of bed first and head off to shower and get dressed. Then I scramble out to the kitchen to make breakfast, lunch, and get us both ready to go. Of course, today and for the next bit of time, He doesn't need His lunch packed, and He isn't getting ready to "go" anywhere. So, this morning, as I was in the bathroom getting ready to go, He came in to pee and weigh and survey the damage. There were no full length mirrors in the hospital room -- just the one small mirror over the sink.

He is a "sight." He has a fairly long mid-line incision and 10 trocar incisions that were made to allow attachment of the mesh for the hernia repair. There are also two punctures where the surgical drains were installed in His abdomen. He has a pretty impressive hematoma on His belly, and enormous and ugly bruising on His hips that is the result of the heparin injections that they gave in the belly every day as a preventative for blood clotting. Standing there in the bathroom, checking it out, He said, "we ought to take some pictures of this."

So, bleary-eyed and sleepy-headed, I wandered off to find the camera and snap a few shots of the damage. They are not terrific -- I wasn't entirely awake yet, but perhaps they will give you some idea of what it is He's been through this last 8 days.

swan

Going Home

I've just arrived at school, but before I left the hospital this morning, we'd seen all the doctors and gotten the word that Master is to be released this morning. As I was leaving, they were beginning the paperwork, and so He should be headed home soon. T will leave work and go pick Him up and get Him all safely installed at home.

This has felt like a really long haul, and I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. I am certainly happy but I don't think the reality has set in for any of us yet. Tonight, though, when we can eat our own food, and control our own thermostat, and pee in our own bathroom, and sleep in our own bed (without those evil jammies I might add), I am sure we'll be rejoicing in the simple goodness of life.

Once again, there is no way to ever thank all of you who have reached out and sent Him so many good thoughts and healing energies. You are a wonder and a gift in our lives and we cherish you each one.

Thank you!
swan