The Universe Speaks

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I don’t do change. Well, ok, I do but I would much rather not. I have always been an individual who desires order, schedules, plans, and routine to the point of ritual. For breakfast every weekday, I arrange 21 mini-wheat biscuits in four rows of five, frosting side up if you please, with the final square in the center of the bowl, milk poured down the side of the bowl so the arrangement is not disturbed. Rigid order. This is how I begin most of my days.

When I first joined fetlife and was prompted to select a status, I scoffed at “evolving”. Really? I thought, Isn’t that just another word for ‘I have absolutely no idea’? As it so often does, my scoffing has come home to roost. (Pardon my mixed metaphor.) Here I am, some 4ish years later, evolving. It is gut wrenching. Emotionally, it is perhaps the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and that is including divorce.

The role with which I have always identified has turned out to be a fragment of who I am, not the whole of myself as I had I thought. Additionally I, who until very recently had never struck another person in any context, have discovered that I enjoy hurting people. I want to leave my horribly beautiful marks on their bodies. I want to beat them with a variety of implements and cover them with inky bruises.

I recently made someone cry during an impact play scene. A first for me. I find crying to be disturbing. I want to make whoever is crying feel better. I want to comfort them. Or so I thought. When this bottom of mine began to cry, I checked in on their well being, asking if they wanted to stop while saying to myself pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno over and over. The bottom did say no. They said it in a way that made me think they really wanted to say yes but did not want to disappoint me. I ceased play based on my gut, rather than their words, and began my cool down routine quietly bringing them back to center.

I have been having a tough time with these discoveries of self. I fought this part of me for an extremely long time. It got to the point that I could no longer lock it away. Now that it’s out, I decided to give it free reign. I have recently embraced this me. I have stopped constantly asking why and what’s wrong with me, and have started working on accepting. I don’t fully know how to reconcile the joy I get from causing pain with being a good person. It has been particularly difficult this week, as plans long talked about are coming to fruition with the speed of a runaway train.

With all of this on my mind, I logged into my reader tonight, looking for distraction, and found Thumper also speaking of change. Within his post were words I desperately needed to hear:

I think we need to allow ourselves as people to change more than we do. To see that in some ways our sexualities are fixed but the way we express them is more fluid. We need to not feel guilt for feeling the way we do if it’s different than “normal” or how we’ve been identifying for years. We will always be left- or right-handed, but we will not always draw with a crayon or write with a fountain pen or paint with a brush.

We are so much more complicated than we allow ourselves to believe and capable of so much more variety and experience than we’re aware. We should embrace that, not bury it. We should revel in it, not feel shame. …

Today, I am a different person than I was yesterday. Tomorrow, I will be a different person than I am today. I am going to work on dancing to the rhythm of who I am today, instead of trying to recall the music of yesterday.