Tag Archives: kink

Marrying the mental and the mischief

It always surprises me how aspects of my kink related play marry to other aspects of myself.

Let me back up briefly.

 It’s about to get a bit personal.

I have struggled with an eating disorder for over the past decade, though I am now medically considered recovered. I was hospitalized for it back in my late teens and it has influenced some of my current medical conditions.

My relationship with food is still complicated. Especially around holidays like Thanksgiving. I have to navigate a prickly maze of thorn-laden hedges in my brain to merely sit down with family and eat a plateful of food.

I deal with it in my day-to-day life mostly by grazing. It tricks my brain and those darkly creeping thoughts to only eating a little at a time. It’s the plates full of food in front of other people that sets off that siren screaming in my head. Calling the cruel goddess Ana to my brain with her poisoned words and glittering sharp teeth. Just a couple pounds less. Always just a couple less.
Her demand of sacrifice is a throwback to the days of pagans gathered around an unfortunate virgin, knives gleaming.

But I have found a surprising weapon in the community and exploration of kink. Not just the support I receive from friends and mentors when the dark thoughts curl around my feet, but also the play itself.

The subspace is untouchable by Ana. It is a thickly layered brick maze that she cannot navigate. The stinging of a flogger, the thudding of a paddle, they add barbed wire to those brick walls. The rip of tape, the slithering sound of rope, the zap of electricity…

All of these things are soothing to me. They bring me to a place that I cannot bring myself. 

It may seem unorthodox, and I’m sure the average mental-health professional would be floored by the therapy I get from play. After hitting subspace, I haven’t the inclination or motivation to count calories or restrict myself.

The food I put in my mouth after a scene is so goddamn guilt-free delicious.

Competing with Myself (TW**)

I know this can be an especially hard trigger for the mental health community and survivors in general. I do want to reassure my friends that my interest in impact is 100% consensual and a cathartically-theraputic release for me. I am not being abused in any way, shape, or form. But I needed to write about this and put it out into the world. I have mentioned some BDSM stuff before.
But please don’t feel like you need to read it. I promise it’s okay if you don’t. I do plan a more PG rated update this week as well.

These last weeks have been rough.

They have been a blender of loss, frustration, depression, anxiety, and self-loathing. The combination of my grandfather passing within days of the anniversary of my miscarriage has my headspace a mess. Halloween stress and relationship turmoil hasn’t helped.

Thankfully, I’ve had some great support along the way.

I’ve recently become closely involved in the local BDSM/kink community in my city. I imagine that seems extra nuts for a nutty person who survived childhood sexual abuse.

I will say my specific interests are extremely focused, have nothing to do with non-consent, and I only do anything sexual/fluid-exchange related with my partner Army. I still consider myself monogamous, though some argue that fact and consider non-sexual impact play with others makes me poly.
But that’s a whole other topic. Army is aware of my interest though, and supportive. I am not dishonest in this interest.

The Experience

In October, I was happy to be able to attend a private BDSM play party with some trusted friends I’ve made over the past six months. I wanted to try and relax and let myself feel more normal. Away with the swirling cyclone of blackness I’ve been caught in. Let in some fresh air and some good conversation. And of course, break out the floggers and paddles.

I thought bottoming in a simple impact scene would be good for me.

It felt like a mere five minutes before I tapped out (I was lovingly assured it wasn’t that short of time). I could immediately tell by the minimal level of red skin and bruising on my rump that I hadn’t taken the level of impact I normally do. My mind immediately recalled a recent scene with the same trusted tops where I took over an hour of play, building up to some good thuddy and stingy impact tools. I was thoroughly bruised for days. And the cathartic release and therapeutic stillness in my head had lasted for hours afterwards. My main goal.

I am what’s called a masochistic bottom (or sub). I get off not only on the pain and surrender of control during the scene, but the flash of pain I can achieve 1-3 days later by doing that casual “bruise-press” with my hand. It’s something that helps silence both the cacophony of voices/thoughts in my head and the daily autoimmune issues. I suppose the endorphins released could be compared to self-harm, but I like to think this coping technique is healthier. Definitely safer. There is no bleeding or scaring level injuries.

Just the beautiful canvas of colors on my rear that can occasionally bloom in a distracting way.

But this scene certainly won’t give me much of that.

It wasn’t that the scene became too painful, per se. It was more that I could feel the subspace drop almost immediately, along with an edge of wanting to cry. Like, full on sob. And I wasn’t brave enough to cry in front of multiple people. Even if they are my friends, I’ve never felt comfortable with public crying.

And yet the other bottoms that were scening already had some beautiful bruises blooming on their own rears.

My jealously ran quick and deep. Not a jealously of their specific bruises. A jealously of my earlier self, who would have easily gotten such badges of honor.

I do know bottoming in a scene isn’t a competition between persons.

But this was the first time I learned that I have to count myself among those persons. I’m not competing with myself.

It’s been a hard lesson to learn. It’s an ongoing lesson as I write this. I suppose the whole DID thing doesn’t help when it comes to self-competition. And I definitely noticed the fact that it wasn’t Charlotte who was 100% fronting during this scene like usual. She could always take more than any of the rest. Even my co-concious self.

I’m blessed enough to have some great local friends in the community who were unbelievably kind about my insecurities. I even had the tops from the scene take me aside afterwards and reassure me. Now those are some awesome people to keep in a play roster. Their intuitive understanding is the best I’ve encountered. Actually, they’re the only people in the past six months I’ve trusted enough to play with on my own (i.e without Army) and multiple times.

Even though my direct grief influences will most likely end soon, I have to figure out the balancing game of dealing with grief and still trying to remain active in the scene. I don’t want to have this sort of sub/grief drop again.

I imagine it is a process that takes time. I don’t think it’ll be easy, but it’s looking like I have a great support network while I get this lesson down.

Subspace/Sub-drop versus Depression

Trigger warning: BDSM, kink, and sexual experiences talk (healthy and non-healthy/abusive both)

Subspace: a mental space for those who identify as submissive in BDSM play and sexual situation/scenes. It can be spiritually and viscerally deep for many. The endorphins released for a sub during a scene make it very similar to the high many drugs offer.

Sub-drop: the sharp change in mental status that can happen to a submissive after the endorphins disperse. It can happen at any point from right after the scene ends to hours, or even a day later. It is called “drop” because it is a empty sort of feeling; akin to depression.

For the first time in years, I agreed to let Army try his hand at a true BDSM-centered “scene”. It involved wax play, breath play, and spankings- in addition to actual rough intercourse. Some of the kinks I have not partaken in since Katherine, despite enjoying immensely.

We staged the scene during the mid-afternoon (2-3pm) when my house was deserted. In spite of this, within minutes of us finishing, Army fell deep asleep.

I tried to control my breathing and pushed back the “crying sensation”. Or what I call the crying sensation- never actually cried. Not sure if that would happen if I didn’t push it back. I’ve always pushed it back. Curled into my normal ball.

And the sub-drop hit.

I’ve never been one of the parts in here to really struggle with depression. I suppose I’ve been touched by it during our co-conscious period when depression would hit. But I’ve never soaked in it.

I soak in sub-drop.

Katherine was initially good at aftercare. When we first delved into the world of BDSM, she read all about how to be a good “domme/dom” and we would frequently watch Disney movies or a musical and she’d make me a grilled cheese. There was lots of soothing cuddling. No conversation required, which isn’t really something I can manage while still in semi-subspace.

Then our relationship soured. The honeymoon period ended. And she became harsh. Or lazy. Or both. The end of a scene was the end of her commitment to pay attention to me.

I soak in sub-drop.

Like gin, I learn to make the bitter taste sweet and steep my insides in it.

On the tail of this deep depression that’s been spinning around in the brain the past couple weeks, this sub-drop is more bitter than sweet. My normal tricks and masks aren’t doing it. Perhaps I’m losing my knack.

I’m still doing my best to fight it.

Sometimes it’s just better to squeeze the bruises or brush the burns/welts to try and release some remnants of euphoria. Anything to avoid becoming like one of the cutters. Ugh. I will not be like Victoria.

I soak in sub-drop.

Monogamy vs. Polygamy (in our DID world)

Recently, I’ve been reading about how most persons with DID/MPD are either non-sexual or polygamists.  Obviously, this isn’t true.  I know this isn’t true.  This is a narrow-minded pop culture viewpoint.

But I’ve gotten a couple people on a website I’m a member of ask me how I can be both DID and monogamous, and yet still be highly sexual and into kink/BDSM.

It’s hard, I’ll admit.  We play that balancing game constantly.  We are hard-wired to be monogamous, but it is tricky trying to satisfy all of the requirements demanded by each of us.  But we work it out due to the following feelings on relationships; broken down by alter.

being a litle i dont really wanna have a boyfriend or girlfriend.  but i do want someone who will let me have my alone time to watch disney movies and play with zoe.  i’ve never really found anyone i felt safe enough to be around.  besides katharine. there were a few times she would watch a disney movie with me and i felt safe. but boys are scary, so its harder with them. i just dont want someone who will trigger any of the others…

I have needs.  That’s pretty much my bottom line.  If said person cannot fulfill my needs (which are also the body’s libido, so it isn’t just me being selfish or some shit like that), then they don’t hang around for long.  A libido has a lot of power, especially for a young woman, so I get a lot of say in whatever relationship we attempt to pursue.  I’m willing to be patient….to a degree.  But there is that point around the 3 month mark or so where I start getting antsy, twitchy, and it’s time for me figure out a solution to those needs.
However, I don’t do the whole cheating thing. That’s disgusting.  I am monogamous.  If the current relationship some other dumbass alter has gotten us into doesn’t fulfill my needs, then I correct that (Rika: she means sabotage).
Thanks Rika. Sure. Fine. I sabotage it. We need a complete relationship, not some half-hearted bullshit.

I just want to be able to trust someone.  I don’t want to be used. I don’t want any more abuse.  We’ve had enough of that.  Sometimes Charlotte forgets that the sort of people that fulfill her desires are the dark ones who will take us down that thorn-covered path again.  Roms and Rika help back me up on that usually.  I like someone who I can actually talk to.  I can cuddle with.  Who will make me smile and charm me.
I like the idea of someone who knows about our condition.  It’s…really hard to hide it.  It’s dishonest.  I’m tired of dishonestly.  It’s only cost us in the past.

I’ve been getting the largest vote in the past- though apparently this needs to be re-evaluated.  I care about that spark.  That chemistry.  Not necessary with the clothes-tearing and such, but just at least someone who will make me smile when I think of them.  I suppose I’ve got a bit of Claire’s romantic streak, but I also do enjoy sex occasionally (not to the degree as Charlotte, but at least some vanilla stuff).  I’m looking for that happy medium.  Someone who can be my friend and my bed-mate.

I am mostly a loner, so I don’t much care about relationships.  But I do like the idea of someone I can bake and cook for.  I’ve done that in the past and it was nice to have someone praise and enjoy my creations.
I also want someone who understands my function with the pills.  That I’m not trying to be suicidal, like Victoria or Daria.  I’m quite aware of the safe level to take to keep us from drowning.  I’ve perfected it over the years.  I’m the closest thing to a medical-alter this body has.  Let me do my thing and stop bitching at me for having “problems”.
And let me play my piano in peace. I do not perform.

I allow only partners who will not fuck us up.  No more of that shit.  I have one job and I’m going to fucking do it well.
I will handle any asshole who thinks he’s hot shit but is really fucking crazy shit.  I don’t care about honesty, like Claire. I don’t care if they know about our “condition” or whatever.
I do care that they understand that though Charlotte may be into dark shit, there is a line and they will not fucking cross it, or they will deal with me.
There is a reason why we were not nervous living in the slum side of town without constantly carrying weapons.  And that reason is me.  I’ve handled men and women larger than the body in the past will little to no trouble.
You fuck with us and I will fuck you up.

I’m not particularly opinionated about relationships.  I just want someone who isn’t going to upset the other alters, especially Armes or Claire.  I have no desires to be with anyone, but I respect the other alters having those desires and they are welcomed to pursue them.  I suppose I would prefer someone who does not have a problem with the whole Pagan belief thing.  Someone I can have the occasional intelligent conversation with.
Someone who doesn’t hate children.

I will not stand anyone who is dumb.  Also tired of people who don’t have their shit together.  I worked my ass off to get the job and education I have.  It was hard- but I did it.  Despite all the shit we deal with.  If you have a damn good reason for being a little behind the curve, then sure, I get that.  But don’t be making stupid excuses for being a lazy fucker who doesn’t understand how life actually works.
I don’t really have a physical interest in anyone.  Just someone I can talk to.  Especially about work.

No person should touch me.  That’s very bad.  The other alters say that it’s going to happen though and I should say what sort of person I would accept if I had to.
Someone who doesn’t judge our appearance.  I know we’re awful and fat and disgusting, but I don’t like that being pointed out.  Someone who isn’t constantly trying to make me eat.  I hate food.  Maybe someone who is nice to my hair.  I do like brushing it and playing with it and putting it into braids or buns or other things.
Someone to make the thunderstorms not so scary…


Daria declined to participate.  I don’t think she has a true opinion beyond wanting to ruin anything we attempt to do as a functional person.

This is the balancing act we have to do every time we think about starting a new relationship.

But we definitely don’t want to compound the problem by adding multiple partners.  That would just cause more issues.

Sometimes we wonder if it might be easier to just remain single.