some more coherent thoughts

I wrote in my last post about Saturday night, and the ways it was hard. I spent yesterday evening with Jos – our first chance to talk about it since that night, really. I needed some emotional support, and he gave it.

We were talking about what it is like to hurt him, why it’s scary. “I care about you,” I said. “And I know you need this. But when I’m hurting you it’s not because I want to give you something you need.”

He brought up Sex Geek’s wonderful post about the beast.  “That must be what it’s like,” he said.  “You have the beast inside you, but you’re standing next to it, and you’re stronger than it is.  And I trust you that way more and more.”

The thing is, that’s true, but it’s also a romanticized version of the truth.  It’s like a fairy tale you tell the submissives at night to help them sleep.  “It’s OK, honey.  I’m right here.  I won’t let the beast really hurt you.”

When I’m hitting him, it’s not quite like that.  I’m just one entity, not two.  The processes – the one that says “yes, more, hurt him, yeah, like that, no, he can take a little more” and the one that is more like “oh, ouch, be careful, yeah, he’s a real person in there, he can really feel that, is he going to safeword if I do that again?” – they don’t run concurrently.  They kind of switch back and forth.  And even that doesn’t convey the way that it’s all muddled up together.

Well, if you’re reading this, you’re most likely human, so you know what it is to be one of us humans.  In all partner interactions, it is easy to be selfish and harder to consider the other person’s perspective and needs.  And your head is always a muddle of different thoughts, feelings, and motivations.

So there are rules and boundaries and checkpoints in my head designed to keep Joscelin safe, but they don’t always completely work.  But Saturday night, I was pretty well in control, I think.  I don’t think I actually lost myself in there.  I felt hot-blooded but sane.  I was paying attention.

And he feels good about the scene that we had, which is (frankly) a big relief.  I told him that it seemed like afterwards he felt that I’d abused him, and he said he understood why it seemed that way, but that he didn’t.  He was struggling with a lot of feelings that conflicted with his thoughts.  And I supported him well at that time.

I am happy – truly, joyfully happy – to be able to support him after a scene, no matter what mood he ends up in, even when it is scary like Saturday was.  And I feel bad that I ended up needing so much care myself, once he was all fixed up and happy again.

“I hope that my needing all this care doesn’t make it harder for you the next time you’re feeling really bad after a scene.  Because I know this is one of the things you’re afraid of – that you’ll freak me out.  And, obviously, you did.  But I don’t care,” I said.

“I’ll be honest.  It might come up.  I might bring it up sometime when I’m feeling really bad.  But try not to let it hurt you.  In fact, if you just said something at the time like, ‘Yes, this is difficult for me, but I’m willing to do it and it’s fine with me,’ that would reassure me tremendously,” he said.

“I will,” I said.  And a bit later, “Thanks for letting me know that it might come up later like that.”

“Yeah.  My classic technique of reassuring through honesty.”

“It doesn’t usually work,” I said.  “But this time it’s OK.”

“It should work, because I know if you knew the truth, there is nothing scary here.  The truth is really good.  Everything is good.”  (I don’t know how this can be, but when he says it I believe him.)

I had been ready for a whole different conversation – one where he was angry about Saturday night’s scene or, if not angry, still needing to talk to me about things that hadn’t been OK.  I’m ready for those conversations whenever they occur, which they will from time to time.  I’m ready to listen and evaluate, respond honestly, and make changes if that’s what we decide.

What I wanted him to know most last night was that by asking, essentially, “Are you angry?” I was not saying it’s not ok if you’re angry or you better not be angry.  I just needed to know, to go ahead and have the conversation and process things.  And, yes, it’s hard.  But it’s worth it.

It is all worth it.