Jealousy

It can be surprising how easily you fall back on insecurity.

Recently, I've been noticing that I've been getting very... resentful of Sis. Not because anything she did annoyed me, or that she was being malicious or anything. Hell, Sis has been the very model of a good slave since Daddy had taken her in. She does all her chores without prompting, she picks up on Daddy's desires and remembers them, she's been entirely respectful...

In fact, that's kind of the problem. I compare her performance to mine on the service front and I tend to find myself lacking. I've never had another sub to directly compare performance against, and suddenly, all my childhood insecurities flared right back up again. What if I'm not good enough? What if Daddy decides that Sis is a better sub than me? WHAT IF SHE GETS PROMOTED OVER ME?!?!?!

I'd talked with Daddy a little about this, and he pointed out the obvious - that Sis has a completely different role to me, has a completely different life path to me, and more importantly, that we are skilled in completely different ways - Yes, she does a much better job on the housework, but the fact I've been around for almost 6 years now means I do have a much better handle on how to handle Daddy. As Daddy points out, "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not!", so the insecurity is completely unfounded.

It also made me admit something that I've been loathe to admit to myself for quite some time - that I'm actually intensely competitive. I like being the best at things, even if I'm not exactly driven to improve myself in the normal sense. It's why I enjoy my job so much - I'm very good at what I do, everyone know it and asks me for advice. I feel safe and secure when I'm "Rocking my KPIs", as my psych called it. But all of a sudden, I'm being reminded that no, I'm actually not the best at chores and housework. I just have to remind myself that that's okay. And who knows, maybe channel that competitiveness to become a better person.

Being crochetty

My most recent discussion with my psych has helped me narrow down the reason for so much of my strange, avoidant behaviour, although the revelation is nothing particularly new - my biggest problem is a constant, all pervading fear, not all that uncommon for people who've experienced my history. I'm constantly checking out to avoid feeling that fear, because its better, in many cases, to feel nothing than it is to be afraid.

I say it's not surprising because I have often noted being afraid to do plenty of things, and when I am afraid, there's usually two ways I go - I either punch through the fear, or check out from it. I've written before about not being willing to participate in communities, I said then it was because I preferred to be an outsider, but to be honest I think a lot of it came down to not wanting to become vulnerable, because I was afraid that my me would be hurt.

Identifying the cause has meant that my psych has thrown a whole lot of activities at me to help clear out that fear. I'm working as hard as I can, but one of the more surprising acts he's ordered me to do is find a craft. The idea is that the constant monotonous action of most crafts helps to calm the mind down. I attempted knitting and failed, but a friend helped me learn crochet, and I have to say I'm getting well into it.

Of course, the whole attempt to find a craft is in and of itself another enlightening moment. I've mentioned before that I generally don't continue with things that I can't get in the first few attempts. I think it goes back to my days as a gifted kid - I only got kudos from people when I was good at stuff, so if I wasn't immediately good at it, I just wouldn't bother. This obviously means that I'm not actually so good at the process of going from sucking to getting better. Daddy doesn't really get this himself - he's internalised that drive to get good at things, to deal with the immediate frustrations of sucking at something and to persevere until he gets it. This is a skill I completely lack.

In this case, I couldn't get the basics of knitting down first time, even with instruction, so naturally I just gave up. Instead, I found that crochet was much easier for me to pick up, so I ended up going with the crochet instead. Another opportunity for growth wasted I guess, but then again, this is clearly a very well entrenched pattern. I cannot expect to just drop the pattern first time.

Running away

So, why do I keep checking out?

Dissociative behaviour typically occurs due to events that you don't want to experience. Now, it's true that I've had a lot of bad experiences, I'm a rape survivor, and before that my family life wasn't exactly all roses. But I'm not living a terrible life at the moment - My life with Daddy is frankly one of the best periods of my life, and I don't say this lightly. Why am I still so keen to leave reality?

My first response is that I've had a lot of practice dissociating. I'm pretty sure I've been doing it since age 4 at least. That makes 23 years of dissociating whenever bad stuff happens, so it's clearly a pretty heavyset habit. But that doesn't fix the question of why I keep thinking bad stuff happens all the time.

My psych tells me that I have an extremely heightened sense of threat - a lot of things that are not really threatening at all press my danger buttons, and have me running for cover. This probably explains at least a little why I tend to hide so vigorously when watching awkward moments on television - just watching someone being embarrassed, even when I know that person is fictional, is enough to press my danger buttons.

So... I spend a lot of time feeling threatened by life in general. This probably means that even mostly neutral interactions with people tend to set off alarm bells in general. It's worse when it looks like I'm agitating people or making them upset, because that really sets me off.

Perhaps the constant dissociating is me trying to get rid of that sense of threat? Easy way not to feel threatened - don't feel anything at all. But that's not a viable way of living - people are not going to have happy feelings all the time. It also probably explains why I tend to need time alone after very small amounts of time with other people - all that constant vigilance wears you out. The trick, clearly, is that I need to reduce the threat perception in my head, and theoretically that's something that I'm supposed to be working on (indeed, that's the whole point of "dropping the coin", ie unclenching. But I've discovered that I'm not doing it right - needs to be done for longer periods, not when stuff happens. We'll have to see how me unclenching while meditating helps. Either way, really need to tone down my danger signals.

Psych Propwash

My recent visit to the psych has stirred up a few feelings, today I'm writing them down for posterity, and to commit them to mind for next visit.

I talked about how I'm trying to become more present by cutting out activities that I use to dissociate, the current one I'm on is computer games. He brought up an interesting point that I've had this conversation with him plenty of times, and everytime it's been on a different activity. There's no use restricting a behaviour if I'm just going to find another one to dissociate.

What I need to do is identify the reasons behind the dissociation, but somewhat ironically, my constant search for Time Out keeps interfering with me delving deeper into my motivations. I check out so often and so constantly that I never give myself time to think at all.

I even suspect part of service to Daddy is me trying to keep myself busy, not giving myself a moment to just sit down and be alone with my thoughts. Even when I am sitting doing nothing, I often suppress thought - I try not to think at all, just stare into space.

The plan is to try and dedicate 10 minutes a day to sitting down, meditating, and actually engaging with my thoughts. I'm also going to try and use blogging to think through some of these issues, mostly because I think I'm much better at thinking when there's a springboard, and I suspect reading my own words might be springboard enough, and I'm terrible at talking to Daddy about these sorts of things. For what reason? Still not sure. Perhaps something to talk about tomorrow?

Learning to boot.

Today, we had a boot blacker named Alex come over to our house to teach me and Sis about boot blacking. I gotta admit, it's a beautiful thing watching Alex black boots, and watching just how much effort and love he puts into his boots.

I was quite glad to get instructed because while my father taught me basic boot blacking, and I knew the basic principles behind making shoes look pretty, my skills were, sadly, not really all that up to scratch.

For those who might be reading, the basic steps:

1) Using a toothbrush or a finger, rub the boot polish over the shoe, making sure to get into every little crevice.
2) Let the polish sit for a few minutes.
3) Use a boot brush and spit to buff the polish to a reasonable shine.
4) Use a fine cloth (or some nylon pantyhose), lightly but vigorously rub the shoe all over to get a truly decent shine.

While I knew enough about the first 3 steps, I hadn't really realised the benefits of step 4 until I saw the results Alex got. Also, I've always been a bit weird about using spit as polish (I usually tried to use water instead), but I gotta admit, it gives superior results. I feel like I know a whole lot more about how to take proper care of boots

Although I do think I'm going to need to replace my boots shortly - They've served me well, but sadly I haven't been so good with giving them the love back, and it shows. But at least I know I can make Daddy's shoes last as long as possible, and I plan to make sure those skills are put into action.

All in all, a very productive lesson, and I'm very grateful for Alex's tutelage.

Tonight's Revelations

Tonight, I proved that I have the inner power to convince someone that if they kill themselves, there would be consequences, and those consequences would be me.

I told them they were not going to kill themselves, that this was not up for debate, and if I came down tomorrow and she wasn't there, then I would come after her.

I ripped the play off of Daddy, but I think I just proved that Daddy is teaching me something at least.

I hope you're proud Daddy. You have given me the strength and the means to take charge of this situation, and I did awesomely.

Meditation

My Psych has been telling me to get more into meditation, and to start getting into activities that don't involve me zoning out in front of a computer. Blogging, I suspect, is not 100% what my psych ordered, but I have at least made a step on the meditation front. One of the biggest difficulties I have with meditation is doing it consistently - my preferred meditation style is to sort beads - something nice and repetitive that lets me pay attention to my brain, but it's something that can't be done just anywhere.

So, my psych has got me onto an app called Headspace. The idea is that I do a ten minute guided meditation each day, and since it's on my phone, it's with me anywhere I go, so I can get my meditation on, say, on the bus to work.

My psych has been encouraging me to start on a craft - again, the whole repetitive action thing is supposed to make my brain slow down, as opposed to video games, which I use a lot to dissociate, but don't really do much to help slow my brain down at night. There's more than a few crafts I could get involved in (knitting was the one he recommended), the difficult bit is (a) getting the equipment and (b) getting the enthusiasm to start. But I gotta agree with him, I need a hobby outside of computers - I don't tend to do much outside of work other than hang around with Daddy and play games. Some... versatility in activities would probably do me some good.

Maybe I should start looking on the web for good knitting tutorials. I mean, wool and knitting needles can't be too expensive, right?

Inklings: Moments of Weakness

Daddy has high standards. While he didn't have a Master in the leather scene, he did find his own Master in martial arts, and that master has made an incredible impression on him. He knows exactly what he wants from his followers, and it's an exacting specification.

Which would be nice, if I was capable of doing so. The last few months or so have been bringing into sharp relief how badly I fail Daddy's expectations of being a submissive. Since Sis has joined our family, she's been reminding me of exactly how much I fail the kind of expectations that Daddy expects of me. Sis? She's taken to her role like a duck to water. She puts her heart and soul into her submission and service, she picks things up incredibly quickly, certainly quicker than I've done, she's actually able to pay attention and focus far better than I do...

I'll admit, I'm not a great Boy, not really. When it comes to Service, I'm easily distracted, I often miss instructions, and if I do get instructions, I often forget them. As much as I want to be a good Submissive, to be able to at least not require total micromanaging in order to get things done, I seem to fail dismally.

It's not, exactly, that I'm jealous of her, not really. It's a bit more internal than that. I'm... upset that I'm not at the level that Daddy expects. That I seem to be the weakest link in this family. That I seem to be part of Daddy's family only because I've been here so long already.

Inklings: Sensation

Check back later for the Spoken version!

I am totally, completely an absolutely a sensation slut.

I am constantly searching for novel sensations across my skin. When I look at a toy, or a kitchen tool, or even in a hardware store, what I want to know is how that's going to feel when it touches me. Is it a soft, fluffy feel, is it scratchy, is it sharp, is it cold or warm, wet or dry?

Everything has it's own sensation. Floggers, for example, have the most wonderful feeling when they're softly led over the skin. Different leathers have different feels. Steel feels different whether it's a big surface or a little point (and points feel different depending on what material they are - toothpicks feel different to metal skewers, for example).

It's really easy to become a connoisseur of touch, but the worst thing is how difficult it is to describe it. I'm a person who likes to break things down, to be able to classify and categorise things. For touch, it's maddeningly difficult. How exactly do you describe the feeling of a TENS unit to someone who's never experienced it? How do you describe the difference between a lettuce knife and a wartenburg wheel?

Even science is no real help. While there are classifications for sight, sound and even taste, touch seems to be deemed "too hard" for scientists. There are so many senses involved in the one we call "touch", learning how touch sensations differ is something that just hasn't had much work done on it, and it's frustrating to say the least, and I don't seem to have the imagination to come up with a decent way of categorising touch.

 It means that no matter how hard you try, the only way to really communicate touch is to be there with someone to let them feel it. The Internet, sadly, does not assist with the communcation of touch, and it means that really novel sensations, sadly, don't get to travel very much. There's no way of posting sensations on Fetlife, alas.

Inklings: Trollin' 2

There's another side to our Trolling, one that serves a very important purpose in our relationship: Honesty. Daddy has no use for sycophantic cronies who treat everything he says as absolute gospel - he wants someone who's able to face up to him, able to tell him when his thinking is causing him problems.

See, Daddy has one hell of an imposter syndrome. He's not very good at accepting that he's a good performer. This has come up more as he starts to become more and more requested, as he's a really good spoken word performer. So, being able to Sass his mental processes is an important part of my duty to make sure that he's as connected to reality as I can get him.

And of course the duty is mutual. I perhaps get it more than Daddy is comfortable, since I have this tendency of learning things really fast - once. After that, it takes an enormous amount of effort to rebuild my processes. This means, sadly, that I'm a really insufferable subby, and it's incredibly hard for me to take an instruction and do it, the way Daddy intends me to do it. So, of course, Daddy sasses me out a lot for doing things inefficiently, or doing something but missing the entire point of it. I'm trying to get better on this, but Daddy often confesses to me that he often feels like he's nagging me to do things, rather than ordering me.

And I'll admit, I'm having to learn to take the sass in the spirit in which it's given. It seems unfair that Daddy is willing to take my criticism, but I have so much issue in taking it. And when the whole point is to communicate honestly, it's a poor showing to be so bad at taking criticism, especially when, you know, part of my job is to do what my Daddy asks me to do.