Sowing the seeds of my submission

DISCLAIMER: This includes a lot of very personal things from my childhood that are unpleasant to talk about, let alone read.  If you would rather not read things of that nature, please feel free to skip this post.

I’m honestly hesitant to post this.  It’s sort of a chronicle of events that were the source of my current self.  I don’t want to seem pitiable by posting this.  It is mainly an explanation of what happened that changed me and trying to understand how everything fell into place.  Fuck it, I will just hit publish and let it ride.

I covered a little bit about myself in an earlier intro post but some memories that hit me over the past couple of weeks have opened up a whole slew of questions about the nature of my submission and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it all… which is no easy task.

It’s almost funny how common it is to read a submissive male author talk about how not submissive he appears in the vanilla world.  It’s almost like we developed the same suit of armor for the same reasons.  I am the same way in many regards as I’ve often been the type to lead the charge on many fronts.  I achieved quite a bit academically, have been a star athlete, been the leader/front man of bands, a social coordinator for our group of friends, an instructor in several fields, and so on.  While this is the face that I show to the world, it is not what I consider the “real me.”  Hell, I consider my leadership qualities to be piss poor at best, but the only thing worse than leading is following a truly incompetent leader and somehow I’ve ended up in that role more often than not.  This is the face that I call my alpha.  It was a pure creation that my psyche spawned when it was crushed during childhood.

A series of traumatic events managed to subdue my “self” at the time and created an entirely new self in order to protect it.   That is, while my original vulnerable self crumbled into self-loathing, an alpha self rose from the ashes that distrusted everyone and hated everything.

The vulnerable self was sensitive, caring, thoughtful, and wanted to be loved and accepted.  The alpha self was a jerk that took on a “fuck them before they fuck you” approach to life.  The split happened around age 5.  Beyond that point, there was only one thing that could breach the alpha’s guard and allow the vulnerable self to surface: Dominance.  99% of the time this was awful.  It usually involved my adopted father’s fists against my body until I had no will left to resist.  Only then would the vulnerable side surface and be broken down by the abuse.  The 1% of the time that was good was my older sister’s friend, M, that would tie me up and keep me safe.

The memories that returned recently gave me a complete scope upon what caused this split in my psyche to occur.  It also yielded tremendous insight upon the birth of my furcissy submissive persona.  How this relates to my deeper submission still remains unclear but I figure the more I try to hash it out the clearer it will become.  Not all of these memories returned at the same time, but they did did return within the past year and in a series of waves that felt completely overwhelming upon their return.  Some of these happened many times over but considering some of them I remember as clearly as if they happened yesterday, including the names of the parties involved that they are probably the most significant of the batch.  I can’t remember exactly the chronological order of them all but I will try to group them by type.

Race (I am Asian):

  • I was harassed by a pair of brothers at my pre-school (age 3-4) constantly for a year and a half.  They would make faces trying to mimic mine, constantly talk about how “weird” I looked, and would basically single me out, stalk, and bully me for looking different.  Names like gook, chink, and nigger were thrown around easily and the pre-school responded with a “boys will be boys” attitude.  My parents told me to tough it out even though I cried and begged not to go back.
  • I was harassed by an older boy in my friend’s neighborhood.  He was 10-11 and we were 4-5.  He kept calling me “nigger boy” and “nigger bastard” and I just wanted to leave.  My friend stood up to him and he raised the front tire of his bike and drilled my friend in the face with it, giving him a bloody nose and knocking him down.  We retreated under a rain of laughter and more names.

Sexual (I am not circumcised):

  • The same boys who harassed me at my pre-school about my looks also would stalk me when I went to the bathroom.  This is super fucked up when I look back at it, but they actually forced their way into my personal space to watch me take a piss and looked at my penis.  They immediately commented on how weird it was and announced to all the other kids there that my penis was weird.  For the next year I had to fight them off and stand on constant guard as they would try to pull down my pants in front of the other students so they could all see my weird penis.  Again, the school’s attitude was “boys will be boys.”  My parents reaction was the same as well.

Humiliation:

  • My adopted father grew up dirt poor and was a firm believer in hand-me-downs.  My adopted mother agreed with him since they learned with my sister that “I would grow out of things so quickly at that age.”  They bought her a new big wheel and I ended up with her old pink big wheel.  I got made fun of.  They bought her a new bike and I got her old banana-seat flower-patterned baby blue bike.  I got made fun of.  They bought her a new sled and I got her old pink Barbie sled.  I got made fun of.  I wanted to learn to ice skate so I could play hockey, they bought her new ice skates and I got her old white figure skates.  I got made fun of.  A lot of these were avoidable by simply foregoing any of those activities.  Unfortunately the hand-me-downs extended into hats, mittens, and snow pants.  Being sent to the pre-school in her old purple knit pom pom hat and mittens and snow pants with a big pink stripe on them didn’t really go all that smoothly.  I got made fun of… a lot.
  • I manged to enrage my mother by “accidentally” intentionally leaving the hat and mittens on the bus because I didn’t want to wear them anymore.  The next hat in line was even worse (red with a pink stripe) so I complained extremely well that it was too hot and made my head itch.  The next day my mother returned with a pair of bright red earmuffs.  I was so excited that they weren’t the hat that I wore them outside immediately where my sister, my older cousin, and an older girl from the neighborhood were playing.  They immediately started calling me gay boy and informed me of how queer I looked in the earmuffs and continued teasing me until I went inside.  I hid them and never wore them again.  While this might seem silly, I refused to wear a winter hat ever again except for the three occasions I was forced to: once by a friend’s mother at a birthday party, once when ice fishing and it was actually super cold with no fish house, and once by the recess lady or I wasn’t going to be allowed to go out for recess.  Aside from those three times (and something I will cover in the next session), never again… and the thought of doing so gave me huge amounts of anxiety for the rest of my life.
  • After having a fur pelt in my crib when I was a baby I developed a bit of a liking for the feel of fur.  My sister had a rabbit fur jacket and one day she caught me rubbing the sleeve against my cheek.  She immediately shamed me and told me I was a freak and that everyone would laugh at me if they knew the truth, etc. until I was in tears.  When I went to my mother she scolded me and supported my sister’s actions.

All of those things happened at age 4 or earlier and they pretty much made me hate myself for even existing.  That is the age when I first wanted to die.  In my memories I had thought that the physical abuse from my father had started up by this time… but I’m actually wrong.  The physical abuse didn’t start until I was around 6 and my alpha was fully in bloom by then.

My alpha turned me into an asshole.  At first I made friends because I was good at sports and the like, but over time the jerk tendencies of my alpha managed to put off the majority of people that I was around.  By the time I was 10 or so I had very few friends.  The isolation was devastating and I made my first serious suicide attempt at 13.  The asshole trend continued until I was 15-16 when I realized I was not a good person and wanted to change.

Something of note did happen during this stretch.  This was the 1% “good” vulnerable.  My sister had a friend, M, that was her age.  M was a bit of a tomboy but over the course of the years that I knew her she became very pretty.  She hit puberty early and I developed late so for the duration of our interactions she was bigger than me and could overpower me (I was ~7-13, she was 2 years older).  I believe I’ve written about her before so I will summarize her more quickly.  During the winter when it was too cold to be outside, my sister would usually have a few friends over at once and M was one of them.  M would always get me to play and she would choose some game that would inevitably end in the other girls getting bored and leaving while M would tie me up using scarves and other pieces of winter clothing.  She would pull a hat down over my face and then tie it in place with a scarf.  She was the only one I would allow to put a hat on me.  In some ways this was a deep act of submission.

After trussing me up she would simply lay with me in silence and hush me if I tried to speak.  It made me feel safe and I would let my guard down and simply feel close to her.  This went on many times a year for 6-7 years.  By the time I hit puberty, all of  my masturbation habits revolved around her.  At the start I didn’t even realize that I was masturbating.  After a while, I could only masturbate while fantasizing about her or someone else doing things similar to what she did.  Needless to say I felt deathly ashamed and didn’t admit this to anyone until much later.  “I can’t get an erection unless you tie me up” isn’t exactly a great dating line.

I was never brave enough to return to my former self, but I was able to become someone that cared about other people.  When I met K at 24 she was able to unlock the vulnerable side of my being and admit every part about myself.  The first time she made me wear her winter hat as punishment it sent me to a very deep state of submission… where all of my resistance faded and I felt my original vulnerable self return to me and overflow with my love for her.

I realize now that the hat became a trigger of my submission and I sexualized it.    I created my own fetish because it was my only link to my true self.  Being forced to do something I did not want to do “breaks” my alpha and exposes the vulnerable self.  What I have learned over the years is that adding additional “trauma” factors from my past increases my submission.  If she makes me feel like an outcast, like my penis is strange or inadequate, if she makes me feel “girly” or adds fur or earmuffs, or if she humiliates me and/or tries/threatens to expose that humiliation to others… I simply buckle and fall into a submissive so deep that I am just a slave, willing to do anything to meet her approval.

That state is filled with panic and anxiety that draw from my parent’s expectations of me and the threats of punishment and rejection.  I get neurotic in my desire to please her and work myself to the bone with maximum effort.  This probably isn’t healthy but it makes me a pretty decent submissive.  I end up loving deeply because she accepts me and find myself willing to do anything to make her proud.

It wasn’t until last week that I was able to put all of these memories together with the process of becoming the current me.  Those seeds were sowed when I was so young.  It relieves me with a sense of clarity to hash it all out.  I’m kind of screwed up 🙂

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