I get a lot of people who ask me (or ask the message boards I'm on) why those of us who enjoy BDSM, enjoy BDSM. I wrote an answer and I think I can explore this post and turn it into an essay that I can use to better answer this question in the future. So I'm posting it here for safe keeping (I expect my computer to crash at any moment, causing me to lose all my files ... some things are just safer in storage on someone else's server right now). Eventually I'll revisit this and work on it more. I could post this as private since I'm not really requesting any comments, but I think I'll go ahead and make it public in case someone's comments help me to better clarify future drafts.
I have always had an interest in BDSM without ever really knowing what there was to be interested in. I have only recently started exploring it, but I have discovered many many things in my short flirtation with BDSM and I can't wait to see what I discover next.
I have discovered that I like certain sensations and dislike other sensations, some of which I had no idea I would like or not like. And for these sensations, I "play", which is a light, non-emotional experience, some of which includes contextual pain. Taken out of context, I do not like pain at all. I absolutely hate it when I stub my toe. I cuss like a sailor when I slam my fingers under a roadcase lid. I am fearful of causing serious injury at work and very upset at my so-far-one permanant scar that I received on the job and I wear protective gear to prevent injury. But sometimes I enjoy a light flogging with a sharp sting that isn't actually painful, and sometimes I enjoy a multi-hour flogging that leaves welts on my back and tears on my face. Discovering new and varied ways to produce pleasure has simply enhanced my sex life and my enjoyment of life in general. I already knew I liked some things such as the feel of soft kitty-fur and sinking my toes into wet sand, and I also knew I liked the sharp pain of being bitten, but I have expanded my repetoire of enjoyable sensations. I am more aware of texture, of feeling, of how my body works, of the pleasure in tactile sensations. How can this not be a good thing to learn?
I have also discovered the kinds of things I need out of romantic relationships, some of which have nothing to do with sex. I learned this through experimentation with BDSM. I have questioned some beliefs I held to be "truths", I have re-examined my choices in life for both romantic relationships and other areas, including career and living situations.
I have also begun building paths to intimacy with certain partners that may or may not have been possible to build in other manners. I have gotten to know some parts of my partners' brain/mind/heart/soul, whatever you want to call it and they have gotten to know me and my vulnerable areas. It's possible we might have gotten to peek at these parts using a different vehicle for intimacy, but it's possible we might not have.
How my partners or potential partners react to even the thought of certain BDSM acts, and certainly during the process of said certain acts, tells me a lot about my partner and how they process certain concepts and ideas ... about me, about themselves, about relationships, about the world.
How I react allows someone else a glimpse into my own brain/mind/heart/soul, my thought processes about me, about him, about relationships, about the world.
I discovered the meaning behind, the reason *why*, I do or did some of the things I do or did ... and I can choose to now continue such activities with a full understanding of what it means, or I can choose to change the action now that I know what it means based upon who I want to become.
Knowing that a particular activity, like being sexually aggressive (which I was growing up) is actually an intimate act to me and holds a lot of emotional meaning for me, I can now reserve that activity for those relationships that are appropriate for sharing emotionally intimate and meaningful acts, rather than experiencing that act indiscrimenantly and being caught by surprise by emotional hurt because I don't know that I've made myself vulnerable when the relationship was not a very intimate or deep relationship. Knowing that a particular activity, like sleeping next to someone) is not an intimate act to me and holds very little meaning, allows me to explain that to someone up front, so if that person *does* hold that activity to be emotionally meaningful, they won't then feel hurt, confused, or betrayed when we share such an activity and I behave in a manner that implies I have no such intimate connection to that person or I can choose to not share that act when we have mismatched expectations.
As
tacit said, there are hard limits and soft limits, both for physical and emotional boundaries. I believe we can not truly know ourselves if we never explore ourselves. I have a fear of falling. I do not have a fear of heights, as evidenced by the fact that I am a rigger, not to mention that I was the tree-climbing champion of the neighborhood. But what happens if I am ever in a situation that requires me to make a fall or jump of some sort ... will I freeze or will I be able to take the plunge? This was a boundary I felt needed to be tested. Some people have no problem with bungee jumping or parachuting, but for someone with a nearly-paralyzing fear of falling to one's death, this kind of activity is not necessarily the best option. I found a ride at a county fair that puts you in what amounts to a hang-gliding sling, raises you in the air by a crane while you lie there on your stomach watching the ground get further and further away. Then, when you reach the summit, you are required to pull the release cord yourself, that sends you plummeting towards the ground, only to safely reach the end of the tether and swing harmlessly above the heads of the queue line.
So I tested this boundary. I waited in line, I got harnessed up, I was raised into the air, and then I had to take the final step myself and make my own release. I froze. Then I pulled myself together and pulled the ripcord. I tested my limit. I know if my life depended on it, I can take the plunge. But I still feel no desire to go parachuting. I do, however, have a greater confidence in my own abilities to overcome obstacles, to trust in myself, and to trust in safety equipment that allows me to walk along a 12-inch-wide beam 65 feet above a concrete floor with confidence and haul up the heavy equipment that you all require in your entertainment activities. Plus, once I worked through the paralyzing fear, cold sweat and near panic, it was great fun and a huge adrenaline rush!
BDSM serves many purposes, some of them concurrently, and it's not at all what people think it is. It's not necessarily about pain, and when it is about pain, it's not the same kind of pain as, say, an accidental injury or a medical emergency. It's certainly not disrespectful, even though it might superficially resemble other disrespectful acts. In fact, quite the opposite, BDSM can be one of the most respectful acts you can share with your loved one. You are performing an act that your loved one wishes uniquely and individually, and you are putting yourself in one of the most extremely vulnerable positions possible, trusting in them to be there for you, as well as taking on the responsibility for being there when they are also in an extremely vulnerable position.
BDSM, like my experiment with the carnival ride, gives me an opportunity for pleasure; for sensation; for release as I mentioned in a previous post; for experimentation; for exploring paths of intimacy together within myself and with my partner; and for testing boundaries and limits in a safe environment with a trusted confidante who can go somewhere unknown, unchartered, fascinating, & frightening into my own psyche or into his and learn more about who I am and what I need or don't need out of love, sex, relationships, life and to learn more about who he is and what he needs or doesn't need out of love, sex, relationships, and life.
I have discovered that I like certain sensations and dislike other sensations, some of which I had no idea I would like or not like. And for these sensations, I "play", which is a light, non-emotional experience, some of which includes contextual pain. Taken out of context, I do not like pain at all. I absolutely hate it when I stub my toe. I cuss like a sailor when I slam my fingers under a roadcase lid. I am fearful of causing serious injury at work and very upset at my so-far-one permanant scar that I received on the job and I wear protective gear to prevent injury. But sometimes I enjoy a light flogging with a sharp sting that isn't actually painful, and sometimes I enjoy a multi-hour flogging that leaves welts on my back and tears on my face. Discovering new and varied ways to produce pleasure has simply enhanced my sex life and my enjoyment of life in general. I already knew I liked some things such as the feel of soft kitty-fur and sinking my toes into wet sand, and I also knew I liked the sharp pain of being bitten, but I have expanded my repetoire of enjoyable sensations. I am more aware of texture, of feeling, of how my body works, of the pleasure in tactile sensations. How can this not be a good thing to learn?
I have also discovered the kinds of things I need out of romantic relationships, some of which have nothing to do with sex. I learned this through experimentation with BDSM. I have questioned some beliefs I held to be "truths", I have re-examined my choices in life for both romantic relationships and other areas, including career and living situations.
I have also begun building paths to intimacy with certain partners that may or may not have been possible to build in other manners. I have gotten to know some parts of my partners' brain/mind/heart/soul, whatever you want to call it and they have gotten to know me and my vulnerable areas. It's possible we might have gotten to peek at these parts using a different vehicle for intimacy, but it's possible we might not have.
How my partners or potential partners react to even the thought of certain BDSM acts, and certainly during the process of said certain acts, tells me a lot about my partner and how they process certain concepts and ideas ... about me, about themselves, about relationships, about the world.
How I react allows someone else a glimpse into my own brain/mind/heart/soul, my thought processes about me, about him, about relationships, about the world.
I discovered the meaning behind, the reason *why*, I do or did some of the things I do or did ... and I can choose to now continue such activities with a full understanding of what it means, or I can choose to change the action now that I know what it means based upon who I want to become.
Knowing that a particular activity, like being sexually aggressive (which I was growing up) is actually an intimate act to me and holds a lot of emotional meaning for me, I can now reserve that activity for those relationships that are appropriate for sharing emotionally intimate and meaningful acts, rather than experiencing that act indiscrimenantly and being caught by surprise by emotional hurt because I don't know that I've made myself vulnerable when the relationship was not a very intimate or deep relationship. Knowing that a particular activity, like sleeping next to someone) is not an intimate act to me and holds very little meaning, allows me to explain that to someone up front, so if that person *does* hold that activity to be emotionally meaningful, they won't then feel hurt, confused, or betrayed when we share such an activity and I behave in a manner that implies I have no such intimate connection to that person or I can choose to not share that act when we have mismatched expectations.
As
So I tested this boundary. I waited in line, I got harnessed up, I was raised into the air, and then I had to take the final step myself and make my own release. I froze. Then I pulled myself together and pulled the ripcord. I tested my limit. I know if my life depended on it, I can take the plunge. But I still feel no desire to go parachuting. I do, however, have a greater confidence in my own abilities to overcome obstacles, to trust in myself, and to trust in safety equipment that allows me to walk along a 12-inch-wide beam 65 feet above a concrete floor with confidence and haul up the heavy equipment that you all require in your entertainment activities. Plus, once I worked through the paralyzing fear, cold sweat and near panic, it was great fun and a huge adrenaline rush!
BDSM serves many purposes, some of them concurrently, and it's not at all what people think it is. It's not necessarily about pain, and when it is about pain, it's not the same kind of pain as, say, an accidental injury or a medical emergency. It's certainly not disrespectful, even though it might superficially resemble other disrespectful acts. In fact, quite the opposite, BDSM can be one of the most respectful acts you can share with your loved one. You are performing an act that your loved one wishes uniquely and individually, and you are putting yourself in one of the most extremely vulnerable positions possible, trusting in them to be there for you, as well as taking on the responsibility for being there when they are also in an extremely vulnerable position.
BDSM, like my experiment with the carnival ride, gives me an opportunity for pleasure; for sensation; for release as I mentioned in a previous post; for experimentation; for exploring paths of intimacy together within myself and with my partner; and for testing boundaries and limits in a safe environment with a trusted confidante who can go somewhere unknown, unchartered, fascinating, & frightening into my own psyche or into his and learn more about who I am and what I need or don't need out of love, sex, relationships, life and to learn more about who he is and what he needs or doesn't need out of love, sex, relationships, and life.












no subject
Date: 1/15/07 07:52 am (UTC)From: