I’ve been accused of being an optimist, a glass-half-full kinda girl, a woman that, given lemons, makes lemonade. And it’s all true. Given any situation, I will look for the silver lining, and, usually, find it. It’s not that I am not aware of the bad things, or that they don’t affect me, nor especially that bad shit doesn’t happen in my life–trust me, it does. It is simply that I choose not to live my life in negativity. And it is a choice. I was reminded of that fact this morning.
This morning I was awoken to the sound of my lovers making love in the bedroom. J came down last night and we three had settled into bed for snuggles the night before. I was restless all night and ended up with some indigestion that finally drove me from the bed to the couch. I didn’t want to keep everyone awake, and since I wasn’t getting any sleep anyway, I thought I’d just read a bit. I finally ended up falling asleep and got about three hours shut-eye before I heard the familiar sounds of my gf climaxing.
I’ll admit, my first thought was not “Oh joy, my lovers are loving each other.” It was more like, “What about ME?? Doesn’t anyone care about poor little me, out here all alone???” Yeah, big ugly whine.
And then I realized–it was my choice to stay out in the living room, alone, pouting. I suspected that J would welcome me back into bed with them, and I knew damn well Ad would have no problem with me joining them (yes, having either one come out and scoop me up and invite me in would have been nice, but I know how he wakes up, hard and ready, and why leave the bed when there is a beautiful, willing woman in the bed next to him? Besides, if I was being fair, how were they to know if I was still unwell, and why interrupt the flow of things, right?) So…I could sit out there and pout, or I could check my attitude at the door and go in and join them.
I went in, and they more than welcomed me, and we three had a perfectly delicious bout of yummy, sexy, hot hot hot morning sex, and afterward even more yummy snuggles.
It’s all about attitude, baby.
This is not the first time this has happened, though. Well, not this particular situation, but a similar one. A while back, while I was injured, J came down to visit. I knew she wanted to play, and I knew that she wanted, in particular, a flogging. She’d never done pain/impact play before, and I knew that when she explored that, I wanted W to be the one to do it with her, and she did too. So, wanting to make her happy, knowing the guys would enjoy it, I facilitated it.
J always jokes about how “greedy” she is. She wants play play play, sex sex sex, attention attention attention, all the time. Truth of the matter? Me too. I am an attention-slut. I am a play-slut. I don’t need sex-the actual physical act of being fucked-as much as she does, but the sexual build-up? The knowledge that I am desired & wanted? Oh yeah, I’m right there. And frankly, it’s an attitude that gets in my way of enjoying things sometimes, when I trip up on feeling like I am not getting attention, getting my “fair share,” whatever. I recognize this as a flaw, and I despise it in myself. But, I do recognize it and take responsibility for it, for my piss-poor attitude, for this whiny poor-me shit that overcomes me at times, that clouds my enjoyment and causes me to act pissy.
Point in case was that night.
I made the arrangements to go over and play at W’s. The guys both knew that I was broken…I don’t know if they knew how deeply it affected me though, how truly broken I felt, in spirit and in body. Unlovely, unsexual, unwanted, unwantable. Yeah, way more than being temporarily injured should have made me feel, so obviously it came from more than just the injury, but, there it was. And that night…watching her get played by W, seeing him do those things to her, while in and of itself was enormously sexy & satisfying–also tripped some of those triggers for me. I was broken, I was useless, why would they want/need/desire me? How could they? Why should they? I was unlovely, undesirable.
I had tried to be forthcoming about my neediness in all this. I told Ad I needed to play too that night, that it would be vital to me not to feel unwanted, a broken toy in the corner. He was unsure–what kind of play could I do that wouldn’t harm me? So I told him, specifically, what I wanted, what I thought I could handle: wax and clothespins.
Let me just take a moment here to state this clearly: I HATE telling someone what I want to do in play and in sex. Hate it hate hate it. I know that’s unreasonable, no one can read another’s mind, and so I work on it, and I speak up occasionally…which I did. And he agreed that we could play that way, that we would. But when the time came to play with her…out came the clothespins. And, “We should do wax on her!” And this is where the attitude came in. She could have anything done to her. She wasn’t broken, she was beautiful and perfect tied up in W’s house, with her perfect body just waiting to be used in all the ways I couldn’t be, because I was broken. Useless. No, I hadn’t wanted to ask for wax and clothespins, but I had, because that was all my useless body would allow. In my head, they wouldn’t be doing it because they wanted to, they wouldn’t be doing it because they were hot for me, and wanted to do those things to me–they would be doing it because they pitied me. To placate me. Poor pitiful Jade.
And I reeled when he decided to do the two things I’d wanted done to me, to her. I shut down. I closed off. I was going to do that nose-cut-off-to-spite-my-face thing. “Don’t wanna!”
Two things. First, I was aware enough of my own shittiness, my own piss poor attitude, to give myself a mental slap and accept when Ad suggested a wax scene with W. It still felt…forced. Done because poor Jade needed something done to her. But it ended up being a very, very intimate, enjoyable scene, and if I had not allowed myself to go there, I would have missed out on something very special (as usually is the case with the bitten-off-nose scenario.) Second, later, when I told J about all the shit that was going through my head (well not all of it, I don’t know if she even knows what a wounded place I was in, what it all stemmed from), but when I told her, “But I wanted clothespins!” (And yes, it sounds just as whiny in my head as it did then, and yes, I despise myself for even feeling that way) she was the soul of practicality. “But you could have had them too,” she said. “He would have done it to you when he was done with me.”
Wow. Big fucking “Duh” moment there. Her enjoyment takes nothing from me. Of course it doesn’t! It should only add to mine. Again, “duh.” Sigh. How had I gotten so turned around, so off-track with that? What the fuck was wrong with me?
So you know how, in a previous post, when I was talking about learning stuff in this relationship? That’s it, right there. Kapow, big ole clue-stick to the head. And that is where attitude–and deliberately choosing to change our attitude–comes into play. What a different way that evening would have gone as a whole if I’d been able to pull my head out of my whiny-poor-me ass and just…enjoy. Just be. Lesson learned.
Or in process of learning. Because it is an uphill battle, to change one’s feelings about things. It’s easy to change the way you react to a thing. But if it is the feelings themselves that are harmful and detrimental? Those feelings I have are not acceptable to me, as a person. I do not want to be the kind of person that feels those small, ugly things about the people I love, that love me. If I don’t act on them, then they affect no one but me, sure (and that is my first order of the day, to consistently recognize and change the way I act in response to those feelings, because minimizing the damage acting out on them could cause is my first responsibility.) But having them, allowing that ugliness to live there inside of me is like a cancer, eating away at me, poisoning me. If I allow that in myself, I am not the person I want to be. I am not the person I can be. I am not a person that I am proud to be.
How do you change the way you think, the way you feel though? Is it even possible? Is it enough to not act out on those feelings, or does the change effected really have to be to the feelings themselves? And if that is what really has to change (and in my case, I believe it is) how does one go about changing it??