I have pretty much given up on the idea of healing certain parts of my damage. These are the parts that I have been able to integrate into my submission and I honestly find them… addictive to have to face them within the confines of my submission. Facing the damage head on acts as fuel for the submissive feeling set that I deeply desire and continuously chase.
Something was pointed out to me last week and the reality of my experiences are forcing my inner narrative to shift a bit. The change is positive, although I would not classify it as “healing.”
For most of my life, I felt like what I am, what I need, and what I desire made me disgusting. The vision that I would imagine from the outside looking in was someone being utterly disgusted and offended that I exist that they would honestly wish that I did not and that they were never exposed to knowing about it. Brain bleach. Erasure.
Through this simulation I could always imagine two outcomes as they attempted to deal with knowing:
- To “dilute” the knowledge by sharing it with others, so that knowing becomes a common experience that can be collectively forgotten until it is a faint memory that can eventually be laughed off at a later date. A byproduct of this is that I would become “dead to them” as a person.
- To simply shut the memory out and permanently remove themselves from anything that might trigger its memory. In this outcome I would again cease to exist to them beyond this point.
Basically, it always looped back to the unpleasantness of being removed from someone’s life. Granted, this fear was mostly in regards to “women in general,” but that fear was strong enough to color my views of revealing things about myself to women in the kink community (men in the community are far less likely to want to be friends with me).
Over the past year I have opened up in great detail about the darkness of my submission to a number of people that I have met and grown close to locally. In some cases, they’ve caught some glimpses of what that I am like on the fringes of my space or gotten nibbles and samples of what it might be like to feast upon me.
What I cannot argue is that the reactions to me have been different than the fears I outlined above. There have been three basic reaction types:
- Pity and sympathy (this happened once).
- Neo-feministic disgust at how pathetic and fragile masculinity is and the fact that this is terrifying to me.
- They look at me like they’ve located a magical weakness and eye me up like I’m a piece of meat and they are a predator that hasn’t feasted in days.
If this continues, I know that my inner narrative will shift. Rejection and abandonment are not what I should expect. Instead I should expect to be seen as pathetic and/or amusing. I should expect a loss of respect for me as a person as I become something lesser in their eyes. While they may still use me as a resource, it is clear that what I am is something different after this point: I am a poster-child for the effects of toxic masculinity. I am a target for personal amusement as they press my weaknesses for entertainment.
I’m not disgusting and I don’t offend them with my existence. My presence is encouraged since they can twist me up whenever they want or ignore me if they choose to. I should learn to accept that once they know me, I will become their own little sideshow that exists to counteract boredom.
This is an upgrade.