Twisted Knickers, Not

“If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it.” –Marcus Aurelius

Breadcrumbs were left by friends regarding a discussion thread about TNG, The Next Generation.  It’s a kinkster subset specifically for the youngest members of our community, those between 18 and 35 years old.  There are a couple ways around the age criteria.  I can attend by being a guest or partner of someone who is within the age limit.  That’s right, this almost 50 year old person can attend a TNG event if I am escorted by a TNG-er.  Or I can be the guest presenter/speaker at an event.  Yep, I can mingle with the all the newbies for doing a demo. 

Some believe the group is needed as a ‘gateway’ introduction to the lifestyle.  One can go to a munch without having to run into an older relative or having to deal with creepy old perverts with lecherous designs on fresh young things.  Some believe the group is all about ageism and provides no real service to the community.  All it does is create a false sense of security and it allows a generation to hide from the ‘elders’ while propagating bad habits.

TNG has left loopholes in its rulebook for people over-35 to attend their functions.  And I believe that is the salient argument of those who are against a group that has membership based upon age.  It appears the lowest age is the floor or a ‘hard limit’ because if the group is defined as 17-35, then a 16 year old may not attend.  Yet the group does not hold the upper age as a true ceiling, or an uppermost limit.  There are ways for people over-35 to be in attendance.

How about that early 40-something year old guy who goes to every event with the 20-something girlfriend he is dating that month?  He not only attends every TNG event, he helps to organize them too.  What about the late 40-something Mistress who shows up a few times a year with an under-35 pet?  She will leave her pet on a bar stool while making the rounds, chatting with all the unescorted subbies.

So as the rants and the “muck-rakery” continue, I think to myself that perhaps TNG should be limited to 29 years of age and a new group should be formed, The Transition Generation.  It would comprise of all the 30-somethings that didn’t want to be leered at by the old farts and not bothered by the antics of the kids.  If the kids want to go out and not have ‘people as old as their parents looking over their shoulders’, then maybe a 30-something doesn’t want to hang out in a bar with ‘kids not much older than their own children’.  (Snark alert)

I find the agruments for both sides to be flat and full of self-justification.  Personally I don’t give two flying fingerdoodles about either side of the subject.  The group exists.  I am excluded from the group because I do not meet all of its criteria.  Boo-hoo.  I’m so sad.  My feelings are really hurt.  Yeah, right.  Some groups aren’t my cup of tea and I wouldn’t join their membership even if I met all the criteria.  Like the KKK.  Or the Free Masons.  Or the Christian Coalition of America.

Being a exclusive club doesn’t make it or its members special.  If I wanted to attend a TNG Munch or party, I could find a 20-something subbie to take me to one.  However, I don’t want to attend a TNG munch.  I do not normally go to bars where the median age is in the mid 20s.  So why would I get my knickers in a twist over a munch?  However, if you are around my age and you do like going to bars where the median age is in the 20s, then please continue to do so.  While doing so, do realize munch attendance is not a civil liberty.

Simple Is Not Always So

“The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.” --Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I am having a difficult time keeping compassion in my heart.  At first when the insensitive, the insecure, the unaware or the dim-witted come into my path I have compassion for their plight.  However, given time I begin to feel the welling up of irritation, anger, frustration.  Then guilt sets in and an internal struggle ensues.

Shouldn’t I be beyond such ego-driven needs of reciprocity in relationships?  Who said ‘mutual benefit’ is a necessity in life?  Is anything like this even mentioned in our constitution?  I mean, what is more intimate than someone caring so much about you that they want to help meet your needs?  Contrary to popular opinion I do not believe chicken soup feeds the soul.  A small helping of authentic sharing sates my appetite.

For me reciprocity implies the other person is responding to my needs and I am being ‘heard’.  Not just listened to, but heard.  Someone cares enough about me to process what I have shared with them and in turn shows me that “you like me, right now, you like me!” with their actions.

Problem is when I put myself in a position to rely on such give-and-take in a relationship, this is when I have been the most disappointed.  In fact, relying on others to keep me safe, to help me through the tough times or to lift me over troubled waters have been the lowest points of my life.  When I reflect on my moments where compassion is replaced by ill emotions, I realize I am being insincere. 

The feelings of anger and frustration are direct by-products of the lack of honesty I have with myself in that moment.  Sometimes it is about me reliving old hurts and projecting them on another.  Sometimes it is about me not being direct with a person because I don’t have the confidence to do so.  Sometimes it is as simple as me not taking care of my physical self, so my mental and emotional selves are in a state of exhaustion.

I cannot keep compassion, at times, in my heart because I hold it there by force.  I still experience compassion as an emotion, and not as a state of being.  Then I beat myself up with the reaction of guilt.  Vicious, exhausting cycle. 

Let's Make a Deal!

"The petty man is eager to make boasts, yet desires that others should believe in him. He enthusiastically engages in deception, yet wants others to have affection for him. He conducts himself like an animal, yet wants others to think well of him." –Xun Zi

I want to think people are inherently good.  I get happy thoughts when I think everyone is willing to do a good deed and has compassion in their heart.  I want to believe good triumphs over evil.  Sadness drapes over me when I think about all the Lord-of-the-Flies evil shit that happens in life.  Some of it isn’t out right evil.  Some of it is just avoidable pathetic crap.

My father had a seizure several years back.  My folks were living in Arizona at the time.  Dad had to surrender his license to the State once the hospital informed the DMV.  Because he had lost consciousness and control of his body, he has to surrender his license for several months.  So when someone goes on and on and on about all the seizures they have, describing how they lose consciousness and walk into walls while having a seizure, well needless to say I start asking questions.  When did you last see your doctor? Does your doctor know about these episodes?  When I hear the replies of “Recently” and “Yes”, I conclude either of two possibilities.  One is that the hospital or doctor is violating the requirement they report all episodes of seizures that involve a person losing consciousness, the ability for a person to control their muscles, and there’s a third criteria, however I forgot what it is.  Two, they person is lying.  When someone says it happened once, I’m going with what’s behind Door# 1.  When a person states this is an ongoing, repeating occurrence that medical professionals are aware of, I’m definitely choosing what’s behind Door#2.

Fear

“I never lie because I don't fear anyone.  You only lie when you're afraid.” --John Gotti

Pretty grand statement to make; him not lying and all.  Don’t know if he’s being honest, however, I know fear is a powerful motivator.  I know when I’ve acted out of fear, bad juju followed.  This is why I am drawn to Buddhism as a means to shed personal dissatisfaction from my being.  And it is why I write this blog.  To let you know you are not the only one.

Isolation occurs when we live with our fears too long.  We isolate ourselves or people push us away.

Self-imposed isolation occurs when you believe you cannot talk to anyone about “it”; therefore, you talk to no one.  It can be abuse, addiction, regret, shame, neglect, or a whole host of other circumstances.  The common denominator is you think you are the only one dealing with “it”.  Social isolation occurs when we’ve lied to others with such frequency people don’t want to be around us.  It is when people don’t want to be around the bullshit.

I hope my blog assures you that you are not alone.  Our experiences may be different, but our fears are the same.  Realize everyone has been on both sides of the spectrum.  Sitting and being quiet (meditating) has forced a sense of self-honesty that makes me, at times, very uncomfortable.

I understand how self-help groups can be beneficial to those of us who feel isolated because we can’t talk about “it”.  What Al-anon did for me was to realize I was not the only person who was taken to the cleaners by a person with a substance addiction.  What the group also showed me was this:  I was the only non-family member (parent, spouse, child) who attended.  I wasn’t married or related to Eric.  So as I sat with myself and meditated I asked, “Do you want to stay in fear?  Have you ever known him when he wasn’t an addict?  What’s makes you so special?  Do you really think he would get help while in a LTR with you? Can you admit you were just an easy mark, a sucker?  Can you forgive yourself?”

July 31, 2011

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” -- Joseph Chilton Pearce

I was raised by a military stepfather and a selfish, jealous mother.  There was little room for error in our household, at least for me and my brother.    The folks could make the mistakes; little brother and I could not.  This glaring double standard, draped around parental apathy, left me struggling for many, many years.  Being wrong in our household meant ridicule, public shaming and corporal punishment.  And if I realized before they did that I had made a mistake, then holy shit!   Panic and fear would cut into my body and mind, my existence.  I would live with fear praying not to be found out.

Living with a perpetual fog of fear hanging over my head stunted me.  I spent years not moving, acting like a deer stuck in the headlights.  And when I did do some pretty bold and courageous stuff with my life, success was often thwarted by my fear-based, child-like reactions.  If adversity presented itself or if I realized I had erred, then I would stay silent waiting for bad shit to happen to me.  I would turn into a scared child and hide in the corners to escape shame, ridicule or a beating.  My parents raised a fear-based reactionary who ended up being used for target practice by some very deceitful people.  People who prey upon the wounded.

I made a conscientious choice a little more than a year ago to stop being afraid of making mistakes.  I mean, what was the worst that could happen?  Thousands of dollars of my savings and many valuables could be stolen by an alcoholic boyfriend.  My office staff could conspire with the county administration office to take my business by rerouting the grant funds and financially ruining me.  I could spend seven years in a relationship in which I am being systematically cheated on.  I mean, what really can happen that is worse than what had already happened?