The relationship before I committed to Eros was dangerous and deeply damaging. I struggle to call it abusive because it was a different kind of harm, the kind that plays out between layers of consent in a BDSM relationship. It was also the kind that plays out between a narcissist and an empath, a dynamic duo in emotional destruction. This relationship was the trauma that immediately preceded my Fibro explosion in 2011 and I don’t think that’s coincidental. Fibro is typically triggered by trauma and I think this relationship was the last straw after 3 years of constant emotional uproar, beginning with my mother’s death (also a narcissist) and simultaneous end of my first marriage (to a narcissist…notice the pattern?).
He was a predator rather than someone who hit me. He admitted to hunting me online before making contact to learn how to pull my strings. He flattered me and courted me to gain my trust, then he preyed on my emotional vulnerabilities, using deeply personal things shared outside of our play in our scenes, even though I explicitly and repeatedly drew lines between real life and play. He violated emotional consent in ways I hadn’t considered possible, like using my rape in a humiliation scene. He asked for monogamy, then told me I was never more than a summer fling. He spun fantasies of owning me every day, then gaslit me for having expectations.
I don’t talk about this relationship because most people don’t understand the complex dance between masochist and sadist, and why I would let him do many of the things he did in the first place. I feel culpable and ashamed because I ignored all of the many red flags to experience the intense arousal and pleasure he elicited in me.
I don’t know how to explain mind control and what it meant to start every day on my knees in surrender to his voice. How it was both comforting and disturbing for this strong, independent woman to let someone direct me to do things far outside my comfort zone and push through my ethical boundaries in fantasy. I became addicted to our interactions so that when he withdrew I went into a fit. I found myself on my knees in despair rather than desire. It was then I knew I reached my bottom as an unhealthy masochist.
I can’t explain why I am a masochist in the first place, why my sexual desire involves pain, objectification, and humiliation inflicted by people I love. I can’t explain why I love sadists and how they torment me, or the altered state that arises when they play me like an instrument. I just know I am happier in life when I am in a healthy kinky relationship where these dynamics can be played out safely and with great love. I am fortunate now to have a partner who can be caring when I need and enjoys tormenting me when I need. Our light and dark sides are a perfect match.
I don’t believe my history of trauma has anything to do with my kinky nature, other than physical masochism providing a way for me to process big feelings. I believe I was born this way, just as I was born queer. I think instead that my trauma patterns played out in all of my relationships until I changed the narrative with Eros and our adoption triad. The abusive kinky relationship was the last in a long series of unhealthy relationships that began when I was a teenager, most of them not involving kink. I think the exaggeration of the pattern through BDSM helped me to see that my concept of myself as worthy of care was broken In fact, at that time I also had a misguided idea that I was a masochist for God, experiencing transformation through triggers, as if suffering was the only way to heal. I blame Christianity for that, teaching me love was pain and sacrifice. I intentionally put myself in harm’s way in several relationships in order to evolve out of my trauma. It worked, but it was hell getting from there to here.