Some words on mental health

Are you a narcissistic supply?  In other words, do you open your veins and let the narc feed from you?

An interesting metaphor is the vampire lifestyle.  When I first began my Second Life years and years ago, the first place I started was with a clan of vampires.  My career did not last for very long, largely because I could not understand what it is that these people do in the virtual universe.  (I was so new; I was so naive.) There is a game propping-up many SL vampires and that game is "get as much blood as you can," with the unspoken "keep as many supply dolls around you as you can, in case you need blood in a hurry."  These blood-doll submissives take pride in feeding the dominant vampires whenever needed: "count on me, bleed me dry," they beg, and their blood trickles from their bodies to nourish someone else.  "Just love me, is all I ask."

A classic narcissist is someone who fundamentally has no life inside (or, no "blood"), and so they seek self-esteem and gratification from others (or, drinking the blood of others to survive).  A narcissist thrives on the feedback from other people, even if it is negative feedback.  (Positive is better, though.)  Accordingly, they seek praise, or to troll and incite violence, or to steal someone's lover in order to feel "more special"  (because life is a competition, according to them -- and the competition must be won or else someone must die).  They seek what others have because they, themselves, believe deep down that they have nothing (rightly or wrongly).

Another word for this kind of behaviour is "parasitic" -- behaviour from someone who cannot live without the presence of another human being to draw from.  To drink from.  To receive from.  If you have ever tried to leave someone who simply will not let you leave, you have felt the clutch of a parasite who is panicking that his "supply" might be trying to get away.

If you have ever tried to have a civilized discussion about the proper way of doing something that nearly came to blows because someone refused to admit defeat, or someone refused to admit he was wrong, or someone behaved like "you touched a nerve!" then you have tried to reason with the unreasonable.  Mental health is unreasonable: it either works or it doesn't, and if it is not working then there is no logic that will solve that problem.

A narcissist presents herself to the world as someone who loves herself excessively: "I am the best," and "Other people are flawed because of this or that, but not me."  In fact, excessive criticism of other people is a very good indicator of a disturbance inside the mind.  Someone who soothes herself by putting others down is someone with whom logic will never win.  There is, alas, no point in trying to speak logically to these folks, whether dominant or submissive.  (There is great danger, in fact, if you pledge your service to such a person: you will inevitably find yourself on the receiving end of that same criticism they show towards other people.  And sometimes it does not stop with words.  And it goes without saying that you will have to keep a vein open for constant feeding regardless of your mood.)  Jealousy, anger, insecurity, irrationality... behaviours like these do not just come from skipping lunch. They come from an imbalance in the mind that is more dangerous (and more common!) than I have really considered before now.

If you have ever felt the rage of a narcissist (the narcissistic rage from the narcissistic wound, they call it) then you are exactly the right reader for this.  Failing to make your narcissist feel important means you risk your narcissist walking out on you: and that will cause some anxiety, especially when they come storming back (it never takes very long) with their rage, their pacifying, their new hunger, and then their feeding from your open vein, which will confuse the hell out of you until you begin to accept the patterns and cycles in your relationship...  Or, until you lock the door and never let them in again.  (Boundaries.  Limits.)  

There are many reasons, in short, why so many people do not connect properly and in healthy ways in the online gaming community: people are often not looking for you but, instead, for your blood (emotionally speaking).  It may not be you they want but only the attention you bring.  It may not be you they want but only the kneeling that you do, or the trophy that you represent.  It may not be you they want but, rather, that you belong to someone important and that you now choose the narcissist to be with instead -- a real coup for the ego of the narcissist.  And when it comes to taking a submissive to order around, or to pledging your service to a dom, the connection will be phoney without a free, balanced, two-way circulation system of communication.  Because, honestly, the D/s lifestyle is uniquely positioned to handle mental health issues in ways that vanilla living is not.  There can be good news at the end of the journey if you follow your safe, sane, consensual practicality and if you pledge to communicate with perfect transparency.  And if you strive continuously for wellness, with the right nutrition and physical activity, your body will not sacrifice your mind to disease.

This is why I maintain, in any interaction, that I am not in competition with anybody.  I do not know everything.  I submit first of all to humility, for every single person I meet knows something I do not -- just as I know something they do not.  And I do not want your boyfriends!  And as part of my value system, I have become quite comfortable with "No, thank you."

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For people on Facebook there is a good resource for survivors of narcissistic abuse as you recover from being "the supply du jour."

The magician behind me

Anais Nin wrote, "I feel that from the very beginning life played a terrible conjurer's trick on me.  I lost faith in it.  It seems to me that every moment now it is playing tricks on me.  So that when I hear love I am not sure it is love, and when I hear gaiety I am not sure it is gaiety, and when I have eaten and loved and I am all warm from wine I am not sure it is wither love or food or wine, but a strange trick being played on me, an illusion, slippery and baffling and malicious, and a magician hangs behind me watching the ecstasy I feel at the things which happen so that I know deep down it is all fluid and escaping and may vanish at any moment.  Don't forget to write me a letter and tell me I was here, and I saw you and loved you and ate with you.  It is all so evanescent and I love it so much; I love it as you love the change in the days."


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Something other.

I hear this statement quite a lot:  "I don't know if it's the orthodox way, but it's my way, and it works for me so I use it."  This comes from submissives who aren't sure if they are submitting "the right way," as well as dominants who declare that they follow nobody's rules but their own.  Naturally,  I would expect a dom to make his own rules, to do things his own way. That is how one cultivates one's environment, right?  One makes one's own rules, and one keeps to one's own code, and thus may a dom be rightly considered a dom(me).  And that dom will attract a certain kind of submissive following, one who respects this way of thinking.  That dom will not dom every person into submission without question -- haha! -- but rather, that dom will attract the like-minded into his circle and will, subsequently, experience the gift of some right-fitting submission when circumstances are appropriate.

This yields two things in my mind which I want to write down.

1)  A submissive personality is equally entitled to submit "her own way."  (Or his own way, of course; there are male submissives and I do not mean to alienate, but it's my submission I'm really talking about and I'm a "she" so subs are "she" in my mind for this blog.)  There is no "right way" to submit, just as there is no "right way" to dominate.  A person may submit only in the bedroom, or in all ways on all days, or to one person only or to a whole house of people.... there are so many variables and no submissive is any less or more acquiescent and obliging than the other.  Most importantly, it has been my experience that a sub can submit a whole lot more easily when she can respect the dominant.  Respect totally, wholly.  And respect comes with time and demonstration and patience etc... Not sex.  But it also comes from a demonstrated code, and that brings me to point number 2.

2)  A code of ethics is something that does not change from situation to situation.  Someone who adjusts one's conscience to suit the occasion does not abide by a code.  A variable ethical guide is, by definition, no ethical guide at all.  And actually it is one trait of mental instability to reject or refuse or resist a code of ethics.  A free-spirit is never to be tamed, of course: this is not what I am suggesting.  Rather, a mature spirit enjoys mature behaviour and takes comfort (and gives comfort) in the reliability of an established code that suggests ethics (morality, mutual benefit, the needs of the many and not just of the self) are not a chore.  

So on the one hand, I applaud those who say, "I will do this my own way," and on the other hand, while I applaud, I respect those who -- while doing it their own way -- adhere to a consistent code of morality and ethics that governs their behaviour in any situation that may present itself.  Take for example:  "I do not eat animals," to me, means "Ever, no matter the species, and no matter the expectation, no matter the day of week and no matter my own hunger -- for I do not believe I have any right higher than a beast to survive at the beast's expense, and that does not change.  Period."

If I am at a birthday party and someone says, "You must try this lambchop," that person can expect a "No thank you," because I do not change my value situationally.

If a dom says to me, "You should try this lambchop," then I would say, "No thank you."

If a dying woman says to me, "It is my final wish on this Earth that you should try this lambchop," then I would say, "No thank you."

I suppose what I mean is that there is a moral code by which I live which no man or woman, whether dom or parent or sub or sibling, can demolish (or, at least, so far so good!)  My submission does not mean that I violate any of my personal mores.  There is no test of obedience so important to me that I would sacrifice one of my values, no dominant so callous in my circle who would require such a horrible test.  "Foul times require foul tests," goes the saying, but my response is "No thank you."

My obedience comes from a profound respect for someone who abides by his own code and who does not waver from it.  The magician behind me laughs and throws more obstacles into my path, just to see if I have the courage of my conviction.  And I laugh in return.

Safety, Safe Haven

Everybody has her idea of a safe haven, right?  The place where one goes and there is no threat of anything "wrong."

There are many versions of the safe haven in Second Life.  The Journey to Domination and Submission sim is one of those safe havens, a beautiful and natural setting with plenty of outdoor space and indoor shelter.  Pictures, art, reading, discussion areas, or a simple bench to occupy while listening to the radio and fishing in the pond.

I was thinking this week how grateful I am that such a place as J2D exists in the world.  Everybody needs a safe haven, even if they didn't realize it until they get there.

I spent time this week also making sure that I had my own house in order, my own safe haven, a retreat I share with Tasdron whenever he needs a safe retreat.  Cleaned, landscaped, tidied and organized.  It is a mental exercise to put my house in order and to see to the wee details, all the corners dusted, all the walls steamed and breathing right.  This is a nod to my history with Tasdron: the early, early days of 2007 when my job was to make sure his house was prepared nicely.  It is an act of submission on my part: I do not throw down objects in a room and call it "decorated," but, rather, each piece is carefully placed and coordinated with as much "realism" as I can orchestrate.  I take time.  I look at it from all angles.  I want it to look as though every inch of it was meant to be that way.  I want there to be no evidence of the effort that I put into it: as though the placement, the value, the functionality of everything are self-evident and their own form of perfection.  The least-adorned wooden stool has the value of perfection if it is in the right place, performing the right function.  Perfection is only ever that.

It is the same with my photographs: the picture is the truth of what I see, and the effort that goes into depicting the image must never be obvious.  That is, at least, what I strive for.  That all the elements were born to be that way, just so.  That the colour and texture and perspective and focus and distance-from, etc... were all meant to be that way, just so.  As though there could never be another way to see this story, and I have submitted my senses to show the nature of this thing as it was meant to be.

And the effort that I put into creating a haven safe from the abuse-of-power that runs rampant through the world; the effort that I put into erecting, defending, and adorning the boundaries; this is effort that I submit myself to and that I enjoy.  It is work that I do to gratify my own nerves, of course, but it is also in the service of Tasdron.  In the walled garden behind the house, there is a patio with flowers and refreshment.  The walled garden does not keep out the sound of birds and crickets; but it keeps out prying eyes and negative voices.  Only goodness, encouragement, and hope may thrive in the sturdy old house surrounded by fragrant flowers.  This is my submission to Tasdron, one of many petals in the blossoming flower.

I remember reading The Story of O, and the Fifty Shades trilogy, and seeing a few movies including The Secretary and also O:  the homes are decorated beautifully.  With discipline.  With care and thought for the proper placement of everything.  The homes are not littered with ball-gags and chains and crops and blindfolds.  A candle whose wick has already been lit several times before may be the only clue that "something else" happens when the lights go down.  To any casual observer, the furnishings are tasteful and functional, full of consideration and care.  The basic needs of human comfort and rest, of feeding the body optimal nourishment, of cleaning and hydrating the body, of adorning and warming the body are all tended to.  To any casual visitor, this is a comfortable place, a safe place.  Only when the lights go down, only when consent is established, will the place become more than what meets the eye.

And because consent is established first, the place -- one's favourite place in all the world -- one's safe haven is never tarnished with the abuse of power.  One's safe haven thrives as it comforts.

The Dictionary, Page Nine

Creation, is it.  When all I want to do is to write about forgiveness, and it is Creation that claims page nine of the dictionary.  Ah well.  So be it.

I have been looking forward to this post for a long time.  I thought it would never come.  I thought it would always elude me.  I thought it was for other people, not for me.  "Forgiveness is not something I can describe," they told me.  "It is letting go," others said.  "It is not letting them win," still others told me.  I could say the same about orgasm.  I could say the same about singing in tune.  I could say the same about finally mastering the trumpet.  

But now I can describe forgiveness.  I can describe it, because I feel it.  And I feel it because it is time.

a) It knows when it is time.  You won't control it.  If you control it, it is something else.  Forgiveness comes when it is time, and it's alright if you keep watching out the window.  It's alright if you watch this kettle boil.  In fact, the more you watch for it, the better.

b) It is about letting go -- but letting go of something very specific.  It is about letting go of a false sense of responsibility.  Yours, or theirs, or someone's -- you know which.  It knows which.  And it is an abandoning of a weight that has anchored you to a false sense of who you are.  This is why it's alright to keep watching for it.  Studying other people.  Whether or not they have a good sense of who they are, or whether they are still controlled by the anchor of "other."  If you tell people it is about letting go, make sure they realize: it is about letting go of something about yourself.  Something useless, now.

c) "But how can you forgive and never forget?"  Well, this will be meaningful someday, but for now you can have an intellectual answer to that question.  Intellectually, the forgiveness comes first.  Then, the choice of whether to forget or not.  But you're getting ahead of yourself.  Make sure you keep things in the right order.  Don't stop asking; but don't put your cart before your horse.

d) Forgiveness comes when you're in a safe room all by yourself.  And you're talking.  (Yes, talking.)  And you find yourself saying something kind and generous to that person you're trying to forgive.  You say, "Wow, I was nice to you there, did you see that?"  And in your head they say back, "I deserved nothing less!"  And out loud, you say to them, "Well, you crazy loon, I will be the judge of that, seeing as this is my room and all."  And then, the forgiveness happens:  you burst out laughing.

e) Yes.  Forgiveness is laughing.  Laughter is the truth.  Laughter is the fluttering of wings that takes it all away; the fluttering of wings that take flight and vanishes.  

SO...  I laughed.  I watched the thing dissolve.  I said to myself, I feel lighter.  It's alright, now.  I don't care what they think.   I don't care how they make decisions.   I don't care whether they condemn me.   I don't care whether they know I have forgiven them.   

Will I forget what they have done?  It doesn't matter!  I do not care!  Maybe I will.  All I need to remember, really, is to stay away from them.  Keep myself out of harm's way.  That is the part that lingers.  Forgive, yes, but say out of harm's way forever after.  There is no need to do it all again.  They don't get to break you twice.

All of this has been building up to that.   Now, I know my limits.  Now, I know my personal power.  Now, I know for sure.

Tasdron has been offering me opportunities to re-create myself.  We have re-created our world together.  We have re-created the safe place.  The experimental, negotiated place.  The before-care.  The after-care.  The ritual cleansing.  The ritual invocation.  The ritual exclamation.  

Now that I know what I needed to know, I can begin a new exploration and learn something new.  Learn how to live in a world forgiven.  With Tasdron's help, I will begin the act of creation -- he and I will create something new.

The Dictionary, Page Five

Worship comprises the fifth page of the dictionary of my submission, what words mean to me in the context of Tasdron Dryke.  Worship means, to me, a great big bowl of hyperbole -- exaggeration, excess, wanton slathering of meaning over something so ordinary as love.  And it's all I have, sometimes.  Sometimes, that great big bowl of excess and "too much" is all I have, so far away.  It makes it easier to bear, to use such words.  Too much, more than, ever in this whole world.

It makes it easier to conceive of "no ordinary love" when I imagine how I worship you (like a king) and how I adore you (like a Christ) and how I prostrate myself before you (like a Messiah).

Really it means that I obey you (like a king) and I listen to you (like a Christ) and I submit myself before you (like a Messiah).  You are not a king; you are of the same class as I am.  You are not a Christ; you are just clever, thoughtful, and ready to give love.  And you are not a messiah; you are American, brave, and free.  I know the reality of you; and yet, whenever we speak or whenever I feel close to you even if there is no speaking, despite the reality that I know (and I too am real, and I too know the vast gap between the statue on the plinth and the woman who keeps it pretty) I am compelled, time and again, to fall to my knees and look up to you and sing your praises as though I were a choir of hundreds of voices.  More hyperbole!  But it is as if, and therefore it is.  I think, therefore I worship.

It makes me feel good to know you are in the world.  And it makes me feel good to know that you can hear me.  It makes me feel good that you let me in, on days when you aren't filling my world with you, so that I can fill your world with me.  I lean on you.  You lean on me.  And I am blessed for it.  (And now I know why I chose this picture, and before that, why you chose this pose.)

"Worship" is just a word I use, sometimes, to indicate the way in which my imagination elevates you beyond the ordinary.  It is a word I use sometimes to indicate that, despite the reality of our worlds, my fantasy is to occupy a world where I may lift you so high with how much I love, and where you may bring me with you with how much you love.  You lean on me, and I lean on you, and this is how it works.  It reinforces the electrical current of the power we exchange; it doesn't sap it.

Transcendence

What have I learned in my study of the D/s lifestyle?  I've been a student here for over six months and, in that time, what has made it a worthwhile endeavour?  My whole blog is filled with learnings and personal achievements, and at the risk of under-privileging other very important lessons that I would gift to any seeker in the lifestyle, I do privilege one lesson above the rest and that is learning how to forgive yourself.  Nevermind the rest of the people who inevitably require it in life -- the self is more important and (though I did not realize it) cries out for it the hardest.  Thank you.

More than that, I understand what it actually means to forgive myself: and that it's not just words to repeat in a mantra each morning or affirmations to bring sweet dreams each night.  There is something to do and it is very important.  Forgive yourself for wanting to be loved means saying, "I want to be loved," and then saying, "Okay, me?  Good."  And then making it a part of my character.  "I am someone who wants to be loved," then, and after another little while, "This will only work if I feel loved because that's who I am."  As time passes, I take it for granted about me.  I am forgiven the selfishness of it by making it part of my true self without apology.

Forgive yourself for feeling so sure, for feeling so certain, and for being so wrong sometimes.  And for taking responsibility and feeling the burden of other people's responsibility (NOT a submissive vantage point, another reason why it feels so unnatural and heavy).  That means saying, "I am wrong, and I'm not sure," which opens me to enlightenment, and it is not tied to my ego to be unsure, and it is not a reflection of my character to be wrong.  I am forgiven the character flaw by making it my character to be open to enlightenment without certainty.

Forgive yourself for valuing perfection and for aspiring to it, and the shroud that thickens this:  forgive the illusions and pedestals and plinths that crumble when perfection shows what it looks like in the morning before coffee and lipstick.  And so I say, "I really enjoy the striving.  I'm going to keep striving.  I'll try a little harder to be satisfied, though."  And the coffee tastes pretty good today, thank you for that also.

Jealousy, Part Two

The fundamental premise of my study of jealousy was that feelings of jealousy contradict feelings of belonging (from a submissive's point of view) and feelings of being the significant voice in the life of a loved one (from a dominant's point of view).  By that I mean to say, the extent to which a person feels like she belongs, or feels like she is the primary influence, is the extent to which a person is not feeling jealous at that moment in time.  Jealousy is defined as an anxiety over the possibility of losing someone (or, from a dominant's perspective, losing someone that we feel a type of ownership over).  The feeling that we will be replaced by someone else, in other words.  The feeling that, even though it hasn't happened (and may never happen), the possibility is undeniably and damnably distracting.

Feelings of jealousy contradict feelings of belonging.  Feelings of jealousy contradict feelings of significance.  Where this leads to is the "imaginary" part of jealousy.  It is an anxiety: if it were a wholesale loss of someone, then the feeling would be properly termed as "grief."  If it were the wholesale deception and adultery proven, then the feeling would be properly termed as "rage."  But it is neither; jealousy exists in the nebulous realm of the imagination, especially if nobody is talking about it.

If jealousy exists in the nebulous realm of the imagination, then it suggests to me a very interesting thing: jealousy also contradicts the three tenets that hold up the D/s lifestyle, those being safety, sanity, and consensual relations.  If the dom or the sub (or the Master or the slave) are in the wrecked throes of a jealous rage, all inside their imagination, it calls "sanity" into question and the mental preparation required to properly command or obey.  It calls "safety" into question and the trust one requires to come face to face with a man with a whip (so to speak).  It calls "consent" into question because, well,  is the person really here and present when she agrees to the scene if she is mentally occupied with sorting out her jealous reactions and stifling her jealous behaviours?  Is her consent valid if she is preoccupied with trying to figure out how to confront you - appropriately -  about her fears and anxieties?  Jealousy begins in the mind, but it ends in behaviour: everyday actions that look like everyday actions (baking, shutting a door) but are, in fact, the body's reaction to what the mind cannot ignore.  The body cries out when the mind is in pain, after all, and the jealous wife who bakes a little more furiously and the jealous husband who slams the door a little too loudly are just begging for some good, heart-to-heart and face-to-face communication of the "please listen" and "please focus on me" variety.

Vulnerable Days, Strong Days

Today is father's day, and it is the first father's day that I experience without a father.  (I can see where this week's anxieties have come from, now that I think about it.)  My father was kind, quiet, strong,  self-centred (in the way that is zen and healthy), well-read, and always occupied (and yet forever available if I needed him).  My father did not raise me to be dependent upon him.  My father did not raise me to fall apart when he is gone.  My father raised me to live my own life; and if I faltered, he would fix it so that I could continue along the path I had chosen.  My father was unexpectedly hilarious in rare moments.  My father rarely spoke using contracted words, usually preferring to speak the word in its entirety as if to savour the full meaning of it.  My father was contemplative. My father took incredibly good pictures, usually of things nobody else was looking at.  My father's handwriting was immaculate.  My father's patience was selective.  My father's curiosity was healthy.  My father's storytelling was legendary.  My father could write so that anybody would want to read him.  There is nobody, obviously, who will replace my father.

It is not a replacement I seek, in any event.  However, it is fair to suggest that my taste in a dominant -- my comfort zone in obedience and learning -- has been groomed by someone extraordinary.  It would be within my comfort zone to interact with a man who does not expect me to fall to pieces waiting for him to return.  I do not.  It is not in my makeup.  It would be within my comfort zone to interact with a man who gives me consistency and regularity in terms of time and attention -- and who otherwise allowed me to live my life, with faint reminders scattered here and there, and enjoy things to look forward to.  It is why I do not enter this lifestyle broken: it is not reparation I need.  It is not an antidote I seek.  My first dominant, the man who first guided me and fashioned me and set me loose upon the world to live as shaped by him, he did so with care.  I am accustomed to that; and I am satisfied with the course of my own journey now.  The course is taking me further towards You, the great and powerful You who has hypnotized my thoughts and who compels me forward and forward on.

I felt weak yesterday; today I feel strong.  Today I feel like I master the very darkness that I seek -- and I know that is not possible... but sometimes little victories feel like big ones.  My little victories:  I have further defined my submission; I have made a situation that was not working for me (and bringing me pain) work for me, and bring me security.  I do know some very good people in the world.  And I will know You, the cooling dark that surrounds my burning light, strips me bare so that there is nothing hidden or wanting.