I fell ill Thursday evening, missing work first Friday and now Monday as well, spiking a fever of 103.3 some point on Saturday. I will be making an appointment with my doctor when his office opens this morning. To spite my efforts, I am still running dehydrated, so I ache. Everywhere. And I have done little more than sleep and rest in bed since Thursday night. And my pelvic bone hurts to hell, I assume from sleeping in one spot so much in a short time. This is to the point of: I have be be gingerly on the stairs; I have to prepare myself to stand up from a chair, even a tall stool… This is effort. And it traps my mind deep into my body, which isn’t often such a bad thing, but what my body is feeling right now is not something on which I wish to be obsessed…
But from pain, there is knowledge. And this chunk of it has been a year and a half in the making.
To back up some: I received the beating (read: flogging) of my lifetime (BOML) at summer camp a year and a half ago. It was exactly what was discussed between us, it was exactly what I was looking to experience, but it was also a whole lot of something more. I have not be able to verbalize much from that experience except to say I now understand in specific terms that I am not a pain pig, nor do I believe myself to ever have been one.
I may have just received some clarity on that, in the kitchen, at 1am, with a fever of 100.3…
Prior to the BOML, I walked through my life with a noticeable, measurable amount of pain. Flat feet, bad knees, bad teeth, bad sinuses. Oddly, I just kept learning to bear it all as it piled on. In that experience, my mind often got tied down into my body, leaving me feeling trapped and overly aware of my pain. This was about the time I discovered BDSM.
Flogging became a very good device for me. It would amp up the everyday pain until it would all wash over me and free my mind, letting go off to roam as it always used to do. This worked very well for about a decade, but I had some awareness of being an atypical situation; I never explored single tails after the first exposure; I never sought out anything else that truly read as pain to me.
The major oral surgery, then cancer and the resulting nerve changes from the biopsy, then six months of chemo, then sinus surgery, then a pinched nerve in my shoulder (ow! ow! ow!) and the messed up cortisone treatments to help it, then three years of chiropractic care, then some weight loss and a smattering of random illnesses in between…
Whew.
Anyway, through this series of events, I now walk through my life with a noticeably lower amount of daily pain. It fluctuates, but it is much lower than it used to be. I know I can survive more, much more, but this isn’t about surviving, or putting up with… From the events of this weekend, it would seem that what once set my mind free from my body is now the same device that traps it deep in my body, aware of every iota of sensation. Sensation. This is good for: touch, and current, and pinch, and tug, and needle and on, but so very bad for beat and punch and poke and bite. So very bad.
As it turns out, I am not a masochist; and this is suppose to be enjoyable.
And I understand if the lesson from all of this reads as ironic: from pain, clarity.
gryphon's hole 