propecia side effect

the silliness of arousal

From member updates and personal notes:

I have decided to leave the group. I don’t feel welcome or comfortable…some of the things I’ve come across and read seem silly. Please deactivate and remove my membership. Good travels to all, I hope you find what you are looking for.

– note from a departing novice, nine days after joining.

A sister responds:                                                              

Arousal is silly

I think this might resonate with almost everyone here. When we start in watchfulness, we are excited about some of the less invasive disciplines, but arousal is often out of the question. Our inner dialogue goes something like this: Arousal? You kidding!? I’ve got me enough trouble with that!

Whether we’ve got too much of it or too little, we often think that arousal is where the trouble is, not the solution. I know I did.

This bygone member summed it up pretty well when she said that some of the things we do seem silly. Arousal? Touching my you-know-what on the hour? It just seems silly. Doesn’t it? My own personal thoughts on arousal oscillated between “this seems silly… giggle giggle, blush blush” and “that is outright insane!!!”

Repressing arousal

In hindsight, my debilitating fear of arousal was masquerading as judgments (it’s so silly! it’s insane!). And deeper yet, behind my fear of arousal, was my fear of love, of true connection.

Over the years I have repressed my arousal, numbed my body. I didn’t use a substance. I escaped in my mind, in thoughts, and became unable to concentrate on anything. Soon enough the schism between the lala land in my head and reality had created severe depression and an inability to be optimally functional.

Letting go

I also created a repertoire of what was acceptable and what was not acceptable sexually to me within the parameters of BDSM. I used to have a very rigid idea of what being a sub meant sexually.

My husband has always loved grooming me. I have enjoyed this earlier in our relationship. However, in the past few years, as I identified as a sub more and more, the idea of being groomed by my husband felt like being served, and consequently put me off completely. I used to think that he couldn’t give me head because that was too submissive of him.

It is only by practicing arousal that I became open to the fact that I could be aroused by his desire, by his love for me, by his wants.

As I started practicing arousal, I opened up my heart to be loved, and my devotion to my husband blossomed, it unfolded into something beyond what I imagined submission to be.

Things I used to dislike and avoid are slowly becoming things I want to do for him, out of love and devotion. I used to see his devotion as something negative, unmanly even. But really, it was because I didn’t think I deserved it. Now, I enjoy the things he likes out of love. Previously, I had to frame them in a context of shame and be ordered to do them. Arousal helps me be aroused by his wants. I don’t know if that makes sense.

The other day, we had wonderful sex where he completely led me. I didn’t need the BDSM imagery to let him guide me, and I was so aroused, so melted into his body.

How do I practice arousal?

Another early confusion about arousal for me – beside the fact that it does sound pretty silly and even outright insane – was the fact that its practice is very specific to each woman. I have tried to masturbate regularly, or to touch myself while doing the wall discipline, and it just wore me down. Full-blown clitoral orgasm during the day makes me groggy. It is also very time-consuming. I came to the conclusion that arousal is not for me.

Until I found what works for me: using awareness and arousal together.

What works for me is putting my consciousness into my cunt, and using the feeling in my cunt like one would an awareness bell.

When I feel a rush of excitement, I do not masturbate. I just put my consciousness into the place where I feel that rush of excitement: my labia, my lips, my clitoris. I welcome the feeling, I accept it. It turns this painful and overbearing rush – I would usually need to numb with mental avoidance – into soft arousal, into an opening. I don’t try to subdue it or to control it with numbness or release. I become open, available. It softens into something more complete, into a gift to be offered.

When I feel like I just want to disconnect, that I don’t want to do what is in front of me, the task at hand, when I feel any sort of resistance, I arouse. For me excitement and resistance are located in the same place. I put my consciousness between my legs. This is where I source my energy, my will to go forward.

Let’s say I don’t want to pick something up, or I don’t know where to start on a project, I relax the muscles around my cervix, my vaginal wall, and concentrate on that space. I feel the need coming, and I accept the need, I embrace it. Eventually, I know exactly what to do next. I’m back in the present, and I’m able to focus.

So my day looks something like this.

Clueless about what to do next.
Arousal.
Anxiety from having to ask something from someone who intimidates me.
Arousal.
Distracted by thoughts of Kevin Spacey fucking me.
Arousal.
Guilt about cleaning up instead of playing with my three-year-old.
Arousal.
Fear of failure.
Arousal.
Annoyance at having to pick up the sticky thing that just fell on the kitchen floor.
Arousal.
Fear regarding which high school my son will get into.
Arousal.
Should I have him start practice for the entrance exam this year?
Arousal.
Distracted by Facebook while I’m cleaning.
Arousal.
Desire for that really nice two-tone hardwood antique desk.
Arousal.
I think I’m fat.
Arousal.
Generalized feelings of despair.
Arousal.
Bad mouthing my sister-in-law to myself.
Arousal.
She’s a real bitch! Who does she think she is?
Arousal!
One last thing to look up online.
Arousal.
Guilt about eating a muffin.
Arousal.
I need to make lunch for me and the little one, but I just want to eat kale chips first.
Arousal.
I’m washing my blender. I hate washing my blender. Oops. Kale chips.
Arousal.
Distracted by Facebook.
Arousal.
Worried that everyone will know that my kids are ASD if I like a certain page on FB.
Arousal.
Anger because my husband didn’t sign those checks he was supposed to.
Arousal.
Worried I’m not doing arousal right.
Arousal.
Worried my care package will not get to my son on time.
Arousal.
Not wanting to clean up my fridge.
Arousal.

Arousal has made me realize how addictive my endless thoughts are, how addictive the inner chatter is. Sometimes I tell myself: okay, just one last little thought, then I’ll do arousal.

Arousal makes me feel the love in the universe. Love is there to be had. It reveals itself to those who pull down their barriers. Arousal is a way of stripping down those barriers for me.

I am now much more open, even enthusiastic, about other forms of arousal. Daily self-stimulation and the plug don’t seem so silly anymore.

 – j., a watchful sister.

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