I’m both a very impulsive person, and someone who thinks things through excessively. I like contradictions. Or rather apparent contradictions. As much as I’m an easy going person (never ask me where we should go for dinner when hanging out, because 99% of the time I truly have no preference and will NOT make the decision) I get incredibly stubborn once I have decided something. I don’t decide things about the world usually, I have thoughts and ideas, but few decisions. I like the flexibility, the mutability, of my world view. I like options, and exploring all of them.
But when I decide things, it usually seems out of no where, and I stick by that decision. A good example is when I was picking colleges. I toured a bunch, and had a top 3 list, and a “never going here” list, but one day in either September or October, I randomly decided that my top school was definitely my top school and that I would apply there ED. It was out of no where enough that it caused some arguing with my mom, but I had decided. I never applied anywhere else, mostly because I was lucky and got in. But I went from considering all these options, from saying repeatedly that I’d be happy at my top school, my safety schools, that I could be happy at any of these schools, to only wanting one. I had decided.
I keep hoping that one of these day’s I’ll decide what I want to do (as in job) in the next five years of my life. I spend the time thinking about it, but that leads not to decisions, but more thoughts, and more thoughts.
I decided I would go on T years ago. The only question was when. It was something I put off and put off, but once I had decided it was time, I called up and got my appointment. Please note- I don’t like making phone calls. I called to order pizza for the first time in my life in the last few weeks, because I will do pretty much anything in order to avoid calling a stranger (or even someone I know who I don’t call often.) Once I decided it was time, I just did it.
About my only exception to making decisions is when I used to make promises to myself. That past tense is very intentional. These days I’m pretty good about holding myself accountable to goals and such, but I don’t ever make a promise to myself. Mostly because every single one made to myself I’ve broken. From never smoking cigarettes, to never hooking up with a specific person (done more than once), to never crying in front of C again, to never breaking another promise to myself. All of them weren’t just broken, more like shattered into a thousand pieces. So, no more promises to myself. I don’t want to break them, so I don’t make them and even have that on the table. I do my best, and strive to do better each time, promise or no. Fuck absolutism.
I feel like I’m about to decide something. It feels vaguely like an “impending feeling of doom” but without the doom and with a weird feeling of certainty. Weird in that I have absolutely no idea what I’m certain about.
But hey, at least it’s an update.
In high school, I was damn sure I was submissive. I remember wandering around with a friend, just hanging out, talking about how she actually had confidence, but failed at seeming confident, whereas I was good at seeming confident without actually having any. I didn’t want to have to be confident, I wanted to submit.
In college, I realized I was a switch. Pretty early on in fact, because by the end of my freshman year I was identifying as a switch, though usually with bottom tendencies. Somewhere along the way I started getting more comfortable being dominant, being toppy.
There are times when I think maybe I’m just one or the other. I’m pretty sure life enjoys reminding me exactly why that is completely false just at those moments. Any time I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one or the other, something happens. For instance, cuddling on a couch with a very scary top, who pulls my hair, controlling my head, and for those moments at last I’m finally out of my head. The relief washes over me of not deciding, not being responsible, not being careful, of not having to pay that kind of attention. Instead, I get to push through pain, through challenge, and show my strength in giving up that control… and it is a relief to let go and submit. Because I’m not any one thing and I need breaks from whichever roles I chose to take on.
But until more recently I really hadn’t much bottomed (with regards to pain) in a long while. T has dramatically altered not just how I process pain, but the physical sensations. Pain feels different. It is really hard to describe. I’m more jumpy, though less sensitive technically. I don’t know my physical limits as well, I want to push those boundaries more and more because I like not liking the sensations. The first real time I pushed past the pain I liked into the pain I seemed to not like in a consensual, trusting manner got me incredibly turned on… and left me with wonderful bite marks all across my skin for quite some time. In a way, I really hated those bites. Because, dammit, they hurt. I told her more, not to inflict harm but to feel that hurt. I was nowhere near harm, and the pain wasn’t bad for me, it got me wetter than I had been in a long time. But that was before T. So, now bites send me writhing, whining, and twitching far more than before. I don’t know how to process this new sensation, but damn am I enjoying learning.
Also, stingy pain got a lot different, and a lot more intense.
Yet, even while I’m relearning my reactions to pain, even while part of me is seeking out chances to bottom, I pull out The New Topping Book to read. I seek out new opportunities to top, to dom, to control. After years of relationships trying to throw off the politics of owning another person, I’ve come to find how much I want someone else to be “mine” (which, me being me, has absolutely nothing to do with monogamy. Just because something would be “mine” does not mean exclusive rights…) Unless I actually feel my more submissive side reacting to someone, another person’s attempts to dominate me lead to entertaining times of wrestling and me biting them a lot. Probably biting them very hard. A certain puppy learned this the hard way. Or maybe I should say the fun way.
Hmmm… One of these days I should get a picture of someone’s bruises from my bite. They can be really pretty.