Trust, Vulnerability, Childhood Trauma…and Kink?

This is a very personal post. It’s a deep dive into my head, my history, some of the things that have shaped me, and is about me figuring it all out. I started writing it on January 14, 2025, in the midst of some deep emotional pain, some of which I am still navigating. I’ve revised it over 30 times before finally posting and WordPress tells me it is 4129 words long. I mention some of the childhood abuse I experienced in this post, including physical, psychological, and sexual abuse – so a word of caution for those who may be sensitive to such subjects.

Please know, you don’t have to read this – you really don’t, but if you do, and you decide to comment, please be kind.

Why do we bother?

This is a question I’ve had for myself for a few months now. I’ve am fairly sure I have mentioned this on this blog before, but haven’t told the true and full backstory of where it came from, and I think now is the time: since I was 19 years old, I pigeon-holed my kink. I stuck to the most familiar, easiest (for me to access without much vulnerability), and most straight forward manifestation of what I held inside (fairly straight forward anyway: daddy-thing, rarely real-life, physical intensity, etc). I did this for a few reasons, but the primary one was that I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t think I was safe. I didn’t think I was the kind of person who could be trusted to try new things – especially deep seated and vulnerable ones – and handle it, that if something went wrong, I’d overreact or react badly. In order to trust someone else to do these things with, you must first trust and believe in yourself. I didn’t.

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Reconciling Kink Expressions Through Fiction – and stuff

Something that occurred to me recently, was the reconciling I have had to do, between the parts of my kink I actively engaged with for the last 15 years (the daddy stuff as I call it) and the parts I avoided (the uniform and discipline stuff). They don’t exist in conflict with each other at all, they’re very much complementary flavors for me, but they are not mutually exclusive. In theory, at least, they could be combined. I say in theory, because so far, the people I’ve engaged in these different types of play with, haven’t had much overlap. I suppose you could argue that there is a certain amount of caregiving in the uniform/discipline stuff I’ve talked about, and you’d be right, but it depends on the person whether that is a daddy vibe or simply…a caring authority figure (guardian? teacher? tutor? disciplinarian? mentor? – for a woman, I’d choose governess, but that’s complicated for me) vibe. Figuring it out is important, though. Exploring it in thought, writing, doing.

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Hurt Me (Part 1 – a Poem)

[I was able to switch out the image of the poem for the text, by using the code editor!]

I titled this “Part 1” because I expect I will write sometime in the future more on the topic of wanting someone to hurt me. In the context of this blog – a spanking fetish, some not-at-all subtle masochism, deep emotional connection – I hope you all can understand the basis for what I mean when someone like me might say to someone else, “I want you to hurt me.” This is a phrase I’ve said very sparingly and to few people, but I meant it each time. The idea of taking what someone wants to give me (within a consensual relationship and negotiated terms) is so unbelievably hot. It gets to the core of wanting to be seen, not in control – specifically giving up control to someone else. It doesn’t exist in conflict with discipline for me – sometimes it can even be part of it. Submitting even when it’s not something I want, but something that is good for me, and being worthy of it, getting to enjoy it, like it, want it – feels like discipline for me.

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