strengthening solution

Oh, how my sex life is recently expressed by proxy. Tango, yoga...it's not actual sex, but the urge to be physical is not really repressible. Fortunately, I'm learning a few very essential things, things I probably couldn't have learned directly through D/s. It tends to pull me in, you see, and I get lost. That was the problem before. I got lost, and I didn't have a map.

Tango and yoga, though--they're giving me a map. And step one out of this awful trap is that I have to be strong. And I am.

So, so obvious. So, so hard.

Ashtanga yoga is helping me figure out strong.

I've re-learned where my breathing can take me: in the sage positions, into a pretzel. At every exhale, I can twist further, use my own arms to lever myself past where I was two days ago. I'm now achieving positions that have eluded me for all my years of practice. During the forward bends, my chin sinks to my shin as I count down from five--and by three's exhale, my face and my leg make contact. After that, it's just flatteningout. Easy. Not so.

I've re-learned to embrace physical risk by inverting myself, balancing my entire body weight vertically above my crossed arms. It's a process of constant tiny movements, keeping balanced up there, and getting up there in the first place is damned hard. I start by accepting an uncomfortable sensation--my head and neck taking my weight. Getting my feet off the floor is the first of several demanding moves, but I have to be in a pike and floating before my toes really aren't touching any more. If I can reach the float, it's effortless: my feet rise while the soles reach for the sun, and ultimately I am completely vertical. I can be there for a while now. My body sways ever so slightly, and I make dozens of tiny muscle and breathing adjustments to be as straight as possible. Not easy. And coming down the way I went up is even harder. But richly rewarding, to seek and find the plateau where all is good and right. I can't even feel my arms or the pressure on the crown of my head when it's good. So, so similar to what used to come so, so easily. Not so.

I'm learning that the strength of the body is more interesting to me than the strength of the mind. I've done the mind--I've lived there, reading and writing and thinking and teaching, for my adult lifetime. Its challenges hold little novelty for me at the moment; I'm comfortable there. I'm much more fascinated these days by the prospect of physical strength, and what I can make my body do.

Lesson one: relax. One particular lock is very difficult for me--it involves twisting my bad arm over my knee and around to my back, where the other arm's hand has gone behind my back to meet it. One links one's fingers and tries not to rip one's tendons out of one's shoulders. I haven't tried this lock since Monday, but today I slid into it and felt no pulling past endurance. I dread this position every time I try it, because it hurts to the edge of "bad," but today, I thought I'd give it a try. Interesting result.

I can give strength my undiluted attention because I am not distracted by sex. Yoga is the proxy, I suppose.

I have no partner when I'm practicing my yoga: I am the wheel. The lessons of strength will have to be put to the test with a partner, though, before I can finally apply them to the times when D/s bodies forth.

I wish we had a form of D/s that could let me test my limits in this way, without sex, without submission and no domination other than simple direction, with plenty of room and time for me to breathe and no distractions. If only I could find the right path to this place. Who knows where it might lead.

Perhaps, if I were strong enough, I would float.

something...cracked

I don't know whether I'd call this a breakthrough, but something broke loose this morning. Something important.

I recently started yoga practice again after two years' away. This morning was the second time I've been there, in a 75 minute ashtanga class, vinyasa flow--which means, essentially, a very powerful yoga, very intense with the breathing and the stretching and the holding. Downward facing dog, or adho mukha savasana, is the position we're in the most, and it is deceptively easy.


The teacher, Jodi, is someone I've known and liked for several years, and she has that core serenity that just inspires confidence--so when we went to the ashtanga series where a reverse downward dog could happen, several of us in the class tried it. I, immediately flashing back to the disaster that was gymnastics when I was small, opted to watch for just a moment and then do another pose altogether...except that one person, doing this little flip kind of move, managed the reverse dog so easily I said, surprised, "is that it?"

Jodi said, "Sure, that's all it is. If you can do Plough and your feet touch the floor, you can do the reverse down dog."

Well, I can touch the floor with my toes when I'm in Plough. I thought I could try the reverse downward dog. I got flat on my back, rolled up into a shoulder stand, extended my arms flat on the mat and slowly reached for the floor behind my head with my feet... and then froze. I could feel the tension on my upper shoulders, and I suddenly knew with great conviction that I did not want to roll completely over backward because my neck would break. I did not want the pressure on my skull. I knew I would hurt myself. Jodi got into position to help me, and I could feel her hands on my hips, and the upper body tension felt like it was growing. I mumbled, mostly to myself and into my chest, "I don't think so..." and then, "I want to wait to try this until next week" and then, clearly, "I don't think I want to do this." I was vaguely aware that some of the others in the class were watching.

And Jodi said, "I'm going to do it for you. Trust me." And with one quick sure tug of her strong hands, I rolled over in a reverse downward dog. I ended up on my hands and knees, not a perfect dog but close, startled to find myself there, wondering. The world had turned over.

It took a few minutes, during which we moved out of that series of poses and into the individual relaxation poses, before I felt it, but then, there they were: tears. I lay on my back in savasana and I could feel them gathering, and then one spilled over and traced a line into my hair and into my ear. Then another. I could feel my chest tightening up as I struggled to breathe, reached for calm, tried not to panic at the oncoming storm. Something large was trying to get out. I felt vulnerable and fragile and as if I were teetering on a high point. I felt as if I needed to be held. I really wanted a hug. I felt a little sad, but I mostly just felt. It was the first time in probably five years that I've felt that combination of emotions with so little sad mixed in. I trusted her just enough for her to help me do something that scared me. Small wonder it brought on tears. It's bringing on tears right now as I write this.

I had a safe experience with someone I trust. I was safe because I trusted her. I trusted her with me, and it was okay.

I am okay. I feel a bit sad still, but it isn't tinged with regret--it's flavored with surprise. I think I have been spending more energy than I knew keeping up my walls, and the exhaustion of the last year, and the pace and pressures of the last month, have reached the depth of my reserves. It's hard to not trust, harder than I knew. Maybe I'm at the point where it's harder to NOT trust than it is to simply trust.

I feel a little like a bird trying to get out of its shell. After a while, the baby bird is too big for the shell but the shell, being perfect in its thinness, needs a little crack to get started, so the baby bird uses its beak somehow, in its cramped position inside that shell, to tap a tiny crack. If it keeps tapping, the first crack becomes cracks, slivers of openness appear, and with persistence the shell will finally fall open. And inside is a new thing, delicate and fragile, damp with birth and exultation.

I am not born yet. I need more, more time and more careful attention and more willingness to try turning my world over with a partner I trust. I'm going to try that reverse downward dog again next Friday. Maybe this time I won't need Jodi--but if I do, it will be okay.

what matters

I have an active, healthy social and professional life. I have enjoyable hobbies and enjoyable people to share them with. I am loved and I love. I get plenty of exercise, I eat right, I laugh often, and I am, pretty much, a balanced and mindful woman. Life is very good.

In other words...

Why am I so excessively bored and frustrated? I am not enjoying even the little sex we have. I married a handsome and sexy guy who adores me, so I wasn't expecting this. We cuddle, we kiss, we sleep all snuggled up together. There's plenty of physical affection in this house! But there's only sex in the abstract. I'm pretty bored with that. I'm rarely aroused, and I'm frustrated by that. The physical reality sometimes raises its head, I take care of it, and then I go on. And there's no change coming that I can see.

It's...boring. But maybe I'm the one who's boring. Christ, what a thought.

My husband's ex wife, he tells me, was so uninterested in sex with him that months and months would go by when his only sexual activity was in the shower in the mornings. He felt rejected and unattractive. After a while, he wasn't interested in sex with her, either. Their marriage was basically over within about five years of its start.

This pattern is starting to sound very, very familiar.

Today, in particular, I feel as if I'm lacking in compassion for him. In general, I think I'm pretty laid back about things, and I have been thinking a whole lot about the rest of the world, the culture, the economic crisis, the national depression we're all in---I've been thinking about how so many men of our generation in this culture are trained, still, to think of themselves as worthy only if they pull in a lot of money. And I've been thinking of how much he, in particular, has been encouraged to think of himself as valuable only if he can demonstrate high earnings. There's internal power and confidence in money earning. And I've been thinking about what horrendous damage this equation has done to him in an economy where his income has dropped drastically, compounding his struggle to heal the scarring from his previous marriage.

But even while I understand how it's probably working in his head, and what effect it's having on him and on his own levels of confidence and sexual interest...even though I get it, I feel resentful about it. But then, this isn't what either of us was expecting.

And I'm still bored and frustrated.

I'm going to the gym.

distinctions that do make a difference

There is such a difference between forcing and dominating.

getting a taste of what I thought I wanted

So here's a funny thing. He did something to me that I did not want, that I actively rejected, and he did it anyway. He was calm about it, didn't force it--just did it. I didn't like it. I resented it, and I had to be dragged, kicking and screaming and digging in my toes, to where he wanted me to be. I had no choice.

In other words, he took control, ignored my protests and preferences, and went ahead and did it. And it really made me angry.

I've been forced on to a new computer....that runs on Vista.

Hah, caught you. But wait, don't go away just because this post isn't about hot D/s sex or how I squirm under the loved and hated whip. Don't go away just because there isn't blood. This is what this blog is about: seeking enlightenment.

Doesn't every submissive woman (and some men, I'm sure) fantasize about the guy she's with just sort of...taking control? it's hot stuff, really. No matter what she says, or thinks, there is something seriously arousing about the idea of his ignoring it and going ahead with whatever it is he wants. Limits? Sure...in theory. Her needs or desires? Yeah, important, but not THAT important. Not important enough to stop whatever he's planned to do. Serene in his control, he just moves forward, and she goes with it. She has no choice. It's essential D/s.

It isn't even the notion of WHAT he takes control over. For all the submissive women I know, the kink is really about that essence of control. And for years, I've missed his sure hand at the wheel. I've complained here about it more than a little bit. Take charge, already, has run through my mind a LOT.

You'd think I'd be happy that he did. Imagine my surprise when not only wasn't I happy, I was seriously angry.

As a result of a very, very ugly lightning storm some six weeks ago, I've had no functional computer with Internet access. For my job, I need this access. I am a professional woman with considerable obligations, particularly right now. I need uninterrupted access. My husband let me use his computer when I needed to, which was wonderful of him, but all my shit was on MY computer. For six weeks, this has been a pain in the ass. Over the last week or two, he's built me a brand new computer and jazzed it up considerably, so it's a custom job now. It moves faster, has a hell of a lot more storage and memory, all the toys I could want.

So doesn't that seem wonderful? Here's why it isn't so wonderful:

1--my old computer was fine; it was just the internet connection that was fried. Rather than fixing that and leaving me my computer, he decided, because he has always hated my computer (it's too slow for him, and on the very rare occasions when he needs to use it, I hear all about how slow it is), he would upgrade it. I was not given a choice here. He came in to my space and "fixed" something of mine that did not, in my opinion, need fixing. Invasive and arrogant. Not okay with me.

2--deciding to upgrade, with him, means a major overhaul. It wasn't enough to just do a new computer with XP--he told me that everyone would be on Vista sooner or later and it was "the right thing to do." I know far too many people working (or trying to) on Vista, and I did not want Vista. DID NOT WANT. I ended up with it. He forced me. Not okay with me.

3--He used my workspace as a mere test space. I cannot function as an adult woman with a career without my electronics and my internet, and to me, that means that my electronics are just as important as his. He did not see it this way. Since "everyone will be working on Vista sooner or later," he decided to put it on my computer as a test, to see whether it would work. He didn't test out Vista on his stuff first--he loaded it on mine and is now waiting to see whether I crash and burn, whether Vista will eat my irreplaceable files, whether Word will work, whether documents will disappear. He treated my systems as if any interruption to my work was insignificant. Not okay with me.

4--I expressed several times, very clearly, all my reservations and my fears. I cited example after example of people I know who find Vista a major pain. I explained that I did not want an upgrade. I protested. I said, "Please do not." For every complaint and worry and fear, all justified, he patted me on the head and sent me away: Only non-savvy people have trouble with Vista. Trust me, I've never had trouble upgrading. Windows will not support XP for much longer and it's time to move to Vista. My fears were not allayed, not at all, and I repeated them to him often. He ignored me. Not okay with me.

I know at least two submissive women who would expect and welcome this sort of treatment. The dom is in control, and whatever he decides, goes. Her protests may be heard, but they may not be heeded. Oh, joy for the rightness of His Decisions.

Well, fie on that. I didn't want him to do it to me, he did it anyway, and I was angry and resentful. Talk about opening old wounds. I felt ignored. I felt silenced (and for an English professor, being silenced is a MAJOR problem). My reaction is completely normal for a vanilla professional: he MOVED MY CHEESE. As a woman who claims submissiveness, though, I am almost amused at my fury. It's legitimate anger, after all. But it's also a done deal. I am typing this on the new computer, Vista has not yet eaten everything, and ultimately it may work out well. Continuing the anger and resentment over this bloody high handed treatment would be pointless. Let's just say that the next time a situation like this arises, I will handle it much, much differently.

Is his assertion of control a resumption of the D/s dynamic? No. I honestly do not think so, and frankly, if that were the case, I'd be worried about my own reaction, which was in no way remotely positive.

No. This is not D/s. This is him, trying to make sure that I have a good computer (in other words, one that doesn't make him crazy) and spending a great deal of time and effort to make that happen. This is my husband, trying to give me a Porsche when I really am completely happy with my beat up old Saturn. This is him, trying to provide for me in a time when the economy and his own personal situation are eating away all his security, all his power, all his invincible positiveness, and all his ability to take care of me. This is my husband being a good guy, in the best way he can right now. My own perceptions are irrelevant in this situation.

I have learned some valuable things about me in this process. His actions tapped on the shoulder of some healing scars (to mix a metaphor) and triggered a long simmering resentment at previous high-handed treatment of me and my fears. I spent a good long while in the Before Time being ignored, not having my questions answered, being forced into submission rather than being encouraged to give it joyfully. Anything that feels like being forced right now is tightly linked to the feeling of helpless rage. And I resist, I pull back, I explain my reactions and I expect him to...something. I don't know what, but I am inevitably frustrated that he will not or cannot give me what I need.

At least this time, I made my fears clear. I didn't do that well before, and it hurt me. So this time, I expressed myself. It still didn't do me any good, but I made progress in making sure my needs were known.

It's all a little bit of progress, one bit at a time, one tiny nugget of gold each time.