Is Everything Okay? — An Open Letter to those who feel burdened

Sometimes – when we’ve got questions to ask, when we’re feeling low and afraid and alone, we don’t look to anyone, we bottle it inside. Maybe that’s what we’re taught, maybe we think it’s a sign of weakness or maybe you just don’t want to bug that person.

With running my blog and leaving my door open for anyone to approach me should they want to, I unfortunately see a lot of this scared behaviour – which is to really say that I see myself – the anxious individual that doesn’t want to talk out of fear of burdening others, that doesn’t want to ask questions about their own fantasies even if it scares them terribly and they can’t eat or sleep or dream.

For those newcomers or sufferers of anxiety and depression, I hope you know that you aren’t truly alone, even if you feel like it. The people around you, your network of family and friends – they all, truly, care more than you know. I can tell you this because I’m my own worst enemy and I felt the lie before I realised the truth. My family do care. My friends DO CARE. It was me that was twisting truth, with my poisoned mind.

And hey, if you’re like me and don’t have a lot of friends, I’m more than happy to talk with you, regardless of what you have to say. Sometimes it helps running our own bullshit past fresh ears.

But if it’s a simple case of a fantasy guilting you – and this does happen more then you know. Hell, realise that I still shift uncomfortably at my own darker impulses. But if it’s a case of guilt at your own sexuality, or identification, I’ve been wandering the lifestyle myself. I’m here to talk and will never feel burdened or weirded out by what you have to get off your chest. Trust me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is — I’ve had readers of my blog who write in, expressing problems — and then they vanish. They’re from opposites sides of the world so I don’t know if they’re busy – sometimes, occasionally, they will return after they’re mended, sometimes not at all. And while I realise it’s not my place to play mediator or meddle – and I can’t help everyone – it still hurts to know that someone is suffering and they feel they have to be quiet when all they want to do is unload or scream.

Remember – you’re not alone. Anxiety is a twisted delusion. You’ll be okay. One day at a time. And —- I’m always a text or an email away, even in time zones.

On Self-Harm, BDSM and Mental Illness

In an earlier 30 Days of Kink post, I talked a lot how I distanced myself from playing with blood as a kink because of my mental state at the time.

A fellow reader asked me to elaborate – and I wasn’t sure how I could, or what I could even say, but I thought I would attempt to talk a bit about it, in case there are those out there, lurking and anonymous.

I can’t really tell you why I began to cut myself when I was a teenager. I’m sure internet articles will tell you the basics about it – it’s a cry for help, it processes feelings, all that. I’m not disputing that, I’m just saying I’m not sure why it happened for me. Maybe I was making sense of the world and processing through my first real break up with a girlfriend – I don’t know. I was just drawn to it, seeing how much pain I could force onto myself.

What I can tell you is a girlfriend and I, a likeminded Kinky individual, began experimenting with knife play, right down to causing bleeding. I can still see her carving asterisks into her thigh as we both got off on it.

The thing was, this wasn’t knife play in a controlled safe environment – our heads weren’t in the right frame of mind. We were both dealing with depression, mine all the more sneakier by me not even realising it. Looking back I suspect I was so adamant to avoid my family’s line of depression that I refused to believe.

So knife play wasn’t a good idea for us because we were taking what should’ve been an isolated pain or pleasure experience and somehow using it to deal with what was bubbling underneath. I mean, I can’t speak for her, I’m just guessing at this point based on experience with her then and experience as an adult now. And, you know, my own personal thoughts.

The final straw came when I stabbed a pair of scissors into my arm. I could actually hear the skin pop as it was torn open. With that, I broke down, angry and ashamed and disgusted at myself. Nothing I can write will convey how torn up I was by this action.

So I stopped and never looked back on doing it again.

Could I engage in knife play? I could – to an extent. There would have to be limitations – no blood, for starters and no actual cutting so I guess it’d be more in line with role play – and I would initially struggle to not picture the moment with the scissors, but I could.

Yet I still struggle with thoughts of suicide. Sometimes I can picture – so vividly in my mind – hanging myself in the garage – but when such times come, I try to think on hope, try to remind myself I have family, I have a life – I have a beautiful lady who I would forever shatter if I did such a thing. And I think how my suicide would make the lives of my dearly loved so empty that my heart hurts and stills my mind.

So. Two things – if you’re like me and knife play has become a fetish, stop and be clear on why you are doing it, think on how healthy it is, think of ways in which you can explore alternative methods of pain and pleasure. Be sure as to how safe and controlled you are.

If you’re anxious and depressed and suicidal, remember you’re not alone. There’s no shame in seeking help, from your local help line, from a friend or family – or if you don’t have anyone, from me. You are never alone, no matter what.

This extends to anyone reading – be you new reader or old, regular lurker or new lurker, someone who has been trying to write the ‘perfect’ email instead of a rambles or if you think you are too old or young or whatever – please – if you want to write, if you need to write, just put it down all at once. You’re writing to a guy with a floordrobe so don’t worry about a mess – i don’t judge.

Be kind to yourselves and remember how important you are to the world.

Negative Thinking and Me

It’s always surreal when a reader or a lurker from the blog comments in on an old story and mentions I’m a good writer or that my words have helped them in some way.

Somewhere along the highway I’ve become predisposed to a negative outlook and am cautious to accept any positivity coming my way lest it leads me astray.

I realise that makes me a hypocrite in a way, not taking my own mental health advice to stay positive, but isn’t that the way with some of us? So eager to help and put faith in others and reluctant to take our own advice?

Last week I caught up with an old friend who I mentored in early 2017. It was a lovely chat, the kind where you feel like nothing has changed, you simply paused the conversation. Well, I had learned that the concepts I put forth to her had stayed with her. She had taken exercises I recommended, advice I had given, and still adopts these in her life daily.

I was, admittedly, a bit taken back. As a mentor, I figured I did help others in the moment but believed I would be of no more use after they grew. And then – see – came the negative thinking – who are you to lead? Who are you to teach? What can you possibly do? Maybe this is a fluke – I jumped from the positive to a negative.

I spoke to my dad about this on the weekend, my negative thinking. He says it’s part and parcel of the human condition but that you may grow out of it. I’m 31 now and I’m still interchanging positives and negatives depending on the day. Hm.

A favourite exercise of my kitten and one that some students I have helped mentor love is writing down three positive things that happened to you in your day to day life. Maybe I should practice that myself.

My Relationship with Anxiety

I’ve written many an article on Anxiety, yes siree. From finding ways to cope to a cry to stay strong during darker times, I’ve pretty much rambled about it all.

But in my other piece the other day, another reader / blogger on WP delved deeper – they asked about I view my own relationship with anxiety, and it got me thinking. And yes, this will be the last one for the foreseeable future.

I talk a lot about anxiety because it’s something so close to me. It’s in the vein of my family and it’s something many suffer but none want to discuss – or are too scared to. And I raise it because I know there’s a kink between it and kink.

But I am conscious of never using it as a crutch. For example, I’m generally socially awkward but I will push myself to go to the big event or to gatherings or the like. I never want to get to a point where it defines my relationships and my life so I find small ways of combatting it. I’m not stuck with it, it’s stuck with me.

My parents always taught me to be independent. My dad saw I had something in me, a writing gift (not saying I do but still) and he always ALWAYS pushed me to not settle for less. These things have formed a part of me that will push back against anxiety.

And yet I succumb when it spikes.

Before I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, I panicked like crazy over a magnitude of thoughts. I obsessed and ruminated and made myself sick – it’s a record skipping on the spot. Like my mind can’t heal over this one focused spot.

This led me to study what anxiety was. And once I knew how irrational and so unlike yourself it could make you, I gradually learned how to identify thoughts that were driven by that mad-cap thinking, which meant I could put the brakes on an incoming panic attack.

I used to think ‘oh God, how am I going to live a normal life?’ – but now I know, you don’t have to settle for less. You can find ways to combat it, minimise it and be healthy. It can be done.

After suffering a panic attack and stabilising, it’s true that it affects my Dominance – my mind is so caught up that its back on the record player skipping – but after I’ve rebooted, things are calm. And any time I’ve lost with my lady, well….. *grins sadistically*

I liken my anxiety to a dormant creature. Comes out every so often for a spook show and then retreats. I realise it’s there, in my life, but I certainly don’t step on eggshells around it, constantly worried I’ll trigger it — I’m too old and stubborn to be scared anymore. And in certainly not going to use it for sympathy. I’m going to live my life how I want the way I want to. Whatever comes next, I know I’m prepared accordingly.

I hope this has helped those that had questions about my relationship with the disorder. If not, if you have more questions, I welcome them. But now, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled kink fest!

We Are The Masters Of Our Own Fate

I was cleaning my MacBook and I stumbled across some old text messages that dated back before my relationship with my lady (Thanks, iMessage!) and one of the files was from a Fetlifer I befriended on my travels before losing contact – and something she expressed to me, which has since struck a chord again here in the future, was her pull of submission towards her ex, who, for whatever reason – maybe he was manipulating her, maybe he himself was trapped in that comforting yet vicious cycle, maybe they were working things out – felt that same animalistic pull.

Now I don’t want to seem like I’m focusing on the negative here, but something I have come to read a lot of, and occasionally sense first hand in relationships, some right before my eyes, is this dysfunctional relationship between a submissive and a dominant.

It could be a conscious thing. I have heard many stories of men, thinking they understand Dominance, abuse the power with malicious intent. I’ve heard of submissive women feeling trapped, either in their marriage to a controlling man or maybe they’re feeling different in a irreparable way, maybe it’s a man, stuck on how to express his feelings, either to his wife, or about his own sexuality, maybe he is unable to proceed with his dominance because the progress eludes him – the variables are endless.

The thing is…we are the captains of our own ship. We are the masters of our fate. Today may be a shit day but tomorrow may be better, if not a step towards being better. Something that people don’t realise, I certainly forget often, is — you’re in this for the long game. Progress takes time. You’ve got to fight like hell even when you feel you’re already there.

For submissive folk, don’t you ever feel weak. Realising you’re submissive takes great courage. Tapping into that submission takes great bravery. Exploring the aspirations of a submissive and it’s dynamic qualities takes tremendous strength.

Always remember that submission isn’t just simply obeying a dominant persona. It’s choosing a dominant persona. It’s granting access to your heart and mind. That takes guts, that takes a certain fearlessness. You should be proud of yourself.

For Dominant folk, remember that being dominant is so much more than protocol and order and sexual gratification, it’s love and trust and harnessing your mind – not just yourselves but the mind of your submissive. It’s about being tender, about being attentive and it’s about care. Here and now and in the future.

And if Dominance and submission is a one night thing, see it has tender and care and harnessing minds for that brief period. There’s still a moment that takes patience and respect into equation.

More importantly, and I speak to both dominants and submissives, don’t let someone walk over you. Don’t let someone boss you around. Don’t let your current situation, of destructive or helpless, put you down – because you can strive for a better future in which all is harmonious. And you can achieve that. It’ll take time, you may need to reboot your life, but you will survive so long as you believe in a positive future and in yourself.

You’ve got this.

This Page Does Not Exist: On Growing At Ease With Your Self

I was on Fetlife just now, dusting the profile, cleaning up the space – and I came across some old friends from waaaaay back, people that befriended me and helped me identify some things inside me. And they were gone – vanished – disappeared. Without a trace.

And it got me thinking. It’s a recurring thing I see with some friends. And before I go any further, I’m aware that interests change and people leave because — they’ve found someone or they’re no longer interested in the website – the possibilities are endless.

But I can draw a correlation between having the absent friends and a perception between some readers who write in – and feel they’re not worth the time that other people may put into themselves.

Having an idea of who we want to be, but sitting in a comfortable sphere seems to be a recurring thing amongst people. I’m part of that sphere. My anxiety, my shyness, rendered me unable to pursue what I wanted for years. YEARS. And everybody moves at their own pace, everyone blossoms in their own time, so I can’t rush, nor would I ever attempt to rush, someone’s own mental development. I mean, if someone told me this exact thing back when I wasn’t ready, it probably wouldn’t make a lick of difference.

There are beautiful people out there that are scared of making a change in their own lives, because to risk it all means there could be a chance of failure, of rejection. Maybe they ignore their own darker impulses, the dominant within or the submissive within – the commanding master, the obedient slave – for the safe life. I don’t know you.

Ladies and gents, you owe it to yourself to live life to the fullest. Never believe you’re not worth it, that the risk isn’t worth the plunge. Accepting who you are takes time, and the greatest challenge of all – fending off yourself, your worst enemy – but in time, and with baby steps, it gets easier. I can vouch for that. If I can find peace, me, the poor country boy from a dead end town, then you can too. Anything is possible so long as you believe!

Regarding Personal Emails

I wanted to touch base quickly, before launching into another post, about emailing me. I answer every and any email, I always will. Sometimes it launches a lovely little chain in which two strangers swap stories and share a laugh, sometimes resources and advice is exchanged, sometimes I cannot help and apologise profusely.

 

On rare occasions, I forget to reply. This could be a number of reasons – I subscribe to a bunch of talented individuals and miss the personal name in amongst the others, other times I genuinely think I’ve replied when it’s just a daydream – which is as baffling as Déjà vu – and sometimes I go through anxious periods where I can’t talk or write. It sounds selfish, but I just can’t find it in me to write. This is a common thing with me, I find. The shows I love have no meaning, my favourite past times become unthinkable. That’s anxiety.

 

However.

 

If I’ve missed your email, or have not responded, do not – I repeat – DO NOT – EVER think that it’s a conscious decision on my behalf. If I haven’t replied in under a week, stick it to me. Don’t let me get away with it.

 

I know, I know – chasing someone up is uncomfortable, you start to wonder – do they care enough? Maybe I’m being a pest? Maybe they’re too busy? Worst case scenario – they’re an awful human being. You don’t have to chase me up, because it’s my responsibility as I’ve offered to communicate in the first place, but I wanted to reassure anyone that no, I am rarely too busy to reply, I wouldn’t offer if I was worried about pests and I definitely care about helping anyone where I possibly can.

 

I wanted to write this because I replied to an old email from a reader just now and I had wondered, as I often do, if there was an individual out there that had wondered whether or not it was okay to approach me personally still or if it was okay to ‘spam’ email me.

 

It’s perfectly fine to do both, should you feel the need. I welcome an open dialogue, be it questions about the lifestyle, about personal issues, about how I write – anything.

To those I’ve replied to in a late manner, I apologise from the bottom of my heart. I certainly hope it hasn’t discouraged you from speaking up in future, either again to me or otherwise.

– TD&D