Empowerment through avoidance.

First off I blame my slave-  ever since she had been  experimenting with  bath bombs, cookies, and stuff that fizzes and explodes into  these amazing smells and colors in  water I have not been able to  take a normal  bath. I don’t even  want to  any more!!!

OK  that being said.

 Last week  was the Albuquerque Masters Group  meeting, it went really well,  very intense. There was a lot discussed, and this time instead of “questions in the hat” I did  more of a leaded discussion. It was really deep  and thought provoking. I am  grateful  to  all  that attended for stretching my own  ideas and giving me new things to ponder.

One of the ideas that was brought forth was  that Masters control  slaves for a sense of safety. It was a huge idea for me- really interesting in its perspective. 

The concept is that Masters that need to  micromanage everything that the slave does,  says,  and thinks are more driven  by their innate sense of feeling unsafe then  they are  driven by feeling a sense of control.

I have always wondered about Masters that micromanage,  since I am  not one of them. As that isn’t how I connect to  my sense of power. But micromanagement is popular among Masters and although  I figured that is how they connect with  their sense of power, it never occurred to  me that it is also  how they  connect to  their sense of safety. 

But it makes perfect sense-

The need to feel  that they have absolute control  over something, the need to not deal with  who  they are because they  “have to/get to” put all  of their energy in   dealing  with something outside of themselves. They don’t have to  think  about their own lives, accountability,  even  long term  decisions-  because they have to deal in  the right here and now with  their slave. Moment by moment. 

Now I am  talking in  exaggerated  terms here- I am  not saying that all  Masters that micromanage do  it because they can’t deal  with  their own  self. I am  saying that when  someone is constantly training, overseeing,  managing,  correcting, and focusing on  what another is doing- it takes the pressure off of the overseer when it comes to doing a self assessment. 

“I can’t think about (fill in the blank here)  because that slave is looking to send out an  email and I WILL  see if they get to send it.”

Exaggerated but I think there is some truth there.

So  as far as how that ties into  a feelings of safety- the Master doesn’t have to  feel  fear, insecurity, or discomfort because  nothing is about them. It all  gets diverted to the slave. The emotional concentration is on  what the slave is doing- so the Master doesn’t have to  recognize what is going on  in their own  emotional lives.

Think of it like this-  you are feeling bitchy- you don’t know why- so  you pick  a fight in  your relationship  to  feel  better (or relieve some steam) instead of dealing with why your feeling bitchy. That way  the feeling of discomfort gets to  become  someone else’s fault.

Master woke up  feeling insecure- find something that the slave did wrong, of just make it up. Then  it gets to  be about the Master getting emotional relief because of what the slave did or didn’t do instead of the Master  dealing with  how they feel.

Feeling unaccomplished and lost- no  worries there- pick out the slaves clothes, watch  how many drops of salt they put in  your eggs,  and not allow them  to  pee when they ask. Suddenly the  focus is on  what the slave is doing and not how the Master is feeling. 

Now I know that I am going out of the box here- really exaggerating the point-  but I do believe that there is some kernel of reality there.

Or at the very least, something to  think about-

When  a Masters sense of empowerment comes from  avoidance.  Huh.

My brain hurts…..

Although I am grateful-  You  Suck Bernalillo……

Service of my words, service of my Heart

My slave calls it  “ripping off the band aid” it is when I am  dead set against taking care of myself or pampering myself and she bulldozes right through  me to  do  what is best. 

Before you get all smug or up in arms about topping from below, pulling rank, being insubordinate, or refusing to obey- just remove the stick from  your ass and listen:

When I started school I knew that I needed three ring binders, money was a little tight  because we had just moved and so I was doing what I could to  stay organized. We were at the store and I was looking at the binders- I needed three of them-  and she said “Master, you need these.” And I said  “No, we cant really afford them.”

At that point she stepped forward and said “Come on- rip  off the band aid, how many do  you need?”

 I tried to  say no but she was already putting them  into  the cart- and she was right- I needed them.

This happened again  just recently. After we moved into the new house the bathroom  needed to  be re  done. So  I set her on  it. I didn’t want to have  anything to do with  the decision  making. I just wanted it handled, and boy did she. We made payments for a while and this week they are gutting the bathroom and re doing it. Within  budget and paid up  front, becasue that is how she knows I need things to be handled.

she calls it phase one. I stopped asking how many other phases there are because as she runs into  new ideas that changes. 

The point is that the other day we were at the store and I saw it. Batman bathroom  stuff! The soap dispenser was AMAZING, and the shower curtain  rings! EPIC! So we went to  buy  it and---

WHOOPS!!  We ran  out of money and had to  put it back!!!

Ultimately I was OK with that-  we had enough  to  get through  for the week, but Batman  would have to wait.

So  when  we went back  to the store a week  later and it was still there- I was SHOCKED!  I really wanted them.  I knew it would make us short on money so  I said no. And again  she stepped right up and said “Off with  the band aid!” and she put the Goodies  in  the cart! 

It is rough  when  she does those things. I get agitated, but I know that she is right.  The honest feeling is that I feel  so  cared for. Like she sees past my words and right in to  my heart.

I feel that this is a good example of one of the ways that people would say-  it is not her place to override my decisions. You  are the Master- AREN'T you?

But isn’t the heart of service to care for and provide for the Master? 

Where then does one stop  and the other begin? Where does service over ride servitude?

Some of that is easy- when  the Master is asking for something illegal  that puts the slave at risk,  when  the Master is inebriated or under the influence, when  the Master is under extreme duress. 

OK I get that part-  but what about the subtlety of the concept that is less extreme and more -  gray? Those “in between”  parts where the majority of life is lived, where the details lay.

Is the slave disobedient if they push  the Master to drink on  a hot day when  the Master isn’t thirsty? 

Is the slave disobedient if they make a meal  that is appropriate for the Masters disease process, but the Master wants what they shouldn’t have?

Is the slave disobedient if they are told to buy  clothes but know the rent is over due and pay the rent instead? 

Where does the line cross from  service and  into  disobedience?

This is something that every Master has to  answer for themselves-  and I already know my answer:

Here it is!   

 BATMAN MANIA!!!!  Will go  up  as soon  as they are done with  the renovation!

My backpack and school binders complete with  colored inserts.

I am  so  LUCKY to have the service of my heart and not just my words!

The need for the illusion

 It has been  a  emotional week,  my slave re started the Betties and she had their first meeting in over a year. We received our final check  in  the foreclosure so now  the old house is behind us and in  five years we are going to be able to  get a mortgage and come off of the real estate contract. I am  caught up on homework  for the week.  I have been  approved to  CNM for my last semester and am  waiting to hear back  about financial  aid. The bills are paid, the horses are eating  and we have food and heat.

I am reminded of all  of our multiple  blessings not just because I am grateful  for them, and give thanks,  but because I received a call  from my Mom  a few weeks back. I followed up  with her this week.  My sister is in  trouble of the legal  kind. Not usual for our family- we tend to  err on  the  side of not going to  jail. The sad thing is that she is in  trouble because she can’t see that the only way out is to  change.

Part of this is her mental  illness- but part of this is the old fashioned ghosts that follow us all- the universal  human experience of  “it will get better. It will change. I can do this. I CAN MAKE THIS  BETER. If I am Better IT WILL BE DIFFERENT.”

How many of us have stayed in  relationships far too  long, tolerated abuse,  stayed in  jobs,  living arrangements, activities,  or groups way beyond what was healthy for us because we needed to  see it for what we wanted it to  be instead of what it really was.

We kept the  veil of illusion  over the starkness of the   reality because seeing what was real  was to  painful, to  dis-empowering, to  scary, to  unthinkable. 

The need for the illusion  is so powerful  that everything else falls by the wayside. Self care, dreams,  goals, desires-  it is as if the illusion  is an  addiction, and it draws our very lives from  us.

I know a little of what I am  talking about here.  My first marriage lasted 4.5 years.  I was dedicated to  the illusion that we could make it work. 

During that time I continued to go  to  school (which  I attribute only to us not living together) but I gave up  horses, my sense of safety, my sense of self,  my ability to  define my own  needs and desires, and my ability to  tell  right from  wrong. I believed so  strongly in  her that when  she would lie,  steal, or otherwise  “press the boundaries of the law”

I would justify it, ignore it, or refuse to believe  that it had happened. Even when it did happen right  in front of  my own eyes and ears. I really needed to  believe that  I couldn’t possibly be married to  someone that would do those things.  The illusion  of her, of us,  was so much  more important than the reality. I did everything that I could to protect that.  In the end  no  one could make me see the reality- I had to  see it for myself. 

When I had moved on in  life and my slave and I bought our first house we  stayed for four years because of  the illusion of being able to  make it work. The thought that I had just made that big of a mistake was unthinkable. That I had bought a house that couldn't support us and I couldn't afford,it was a rollercoaster that I was strapped into  by my own  need to believe that there was no  way I could have been  that stupid. I thought I could do  whatever it took  to salvage it.  In  the process I gave up  my degree,  the goal of having children, and my retirement was sucked dangerously dry. I had to  believe that the illusion  was real because the other was beyond all  comprehension.

 And then  it happens, the place of transition where decisions need to  be made,  the relationship  reaches critical  mass,  the  house is not  longer viable,  the job, living situation, the place where you put in  your extra time- it cracks and crumbles. 

It does so  in a way that even if you  try to  catch it, the ashes cling to your fingers as the bricks fall.  It is  addiction,  the place of relapse or the place of moving on, and no  matter what decision  is made -  the person, place, thing, and you are never the same.

And then  sometime after it is all  said and done-   sometimes weeks,  months,  years-  sometimes when it is all passed- you look back  and wonder-  was that me? 

My mother used to  say-  the one thing that you can  always guarantee is that  “it” will change. 

My sister  will never be able to  see that by choosing not to change it will  not get better. 

I am not saying that I am  better then  her or smarter or anything like that. I am saying that I was lucky that my illusion  revealed itself before we were homeless or worse.

We all  carry illusions,  we need them  to make our lives work. But there is that point where the illusion  steals the you  from  you. Where the illusion becomes so deeply engrained that it deceives you into thinking that  it is the reality. 

All  the while something is gnawing at you from  the inside out-  that little voice in  your head, that small flame of the self  or of doubt that shows itself in between  illusions. It is there. Waiting.

I think  that what I am  trying to  say is that change hurts deep,  it is terrifying,  it is sometimes  unthinkable-   

  

-- still  the power of change  marches on. 

Embrace it if you can. 

And if you can’t- just know that you are not alone. Your  feelings of fear, anger,  terror, hopelessness and dis empowerment they are in  all of us at one time or another. And yes-  they will change.