Thursday, April 7

Letting go

Letting go is hard. Both in real life and in scenes. The degree to which I do it in a scene can vary. Most of the time I can give way to what's happening, either to me or my character. And often the character's emotions can be magnified by real life events. If I'm feeling all bottled up and need a release from the every day working stresses it's good to play and be beaten and abused and made to feel small. Or if I'm raging against the world it's good to fight and be made to surrender in more cathartic ways. Or if I'm being a grumpy so and so it's useful to be reminded of how I should behave.

But sometimes I'm tired and low on energy, or overwhelmed by everything that's going on in life. In this frame of mind I can't always predict how I will react in scenes. Sometimes it's good, I'll be even more miserable or feel more ashamed or cry more tears. Other times I'll struggle to engage.

During our recent reformatory weekend hosted by Lord Fawcett and Jessica, I managed to experience both the negative and positives of my real-life state. I arrived undone from life's excitements. This coupled with lack of sleep meant I was verging on exhaustion. Yet for the first evening this state of mind worked perfectly for my character.

Poor Fanny Evans, the most pitiful girl you could ever meet. She stole her Mother's jewellery back from her Father (her Mother had given it to her) and ran away to London, to get away from his abuse. But alas was caught and charged with theft and sentenced to the Lowewood Institute for Debauched and Delinquent girls. She was a little innocent mouse terrified of her own shadow, the other inmates and of course the masters!

Therefore the induction to the institute was an awful ordeal for her. Being made to strip naked in front of the other girls, not to mention in front of the men. Scrubbed with nasty carbolic soap and inspected by Dr Grimace himself, in all her private places. It was all she could do not to cry, and when Eirlys whispered comfort as she fled to her bed, she finally gave way to the tears. Fanny was overwhelmed. EJ was over wrought.

But as the weekend went on I found myself too lacking in energy to continuously wear her mantle. I found myself coming in and out of character. A weekend long institutional play is difficult to maintain at the best of times anyway, but in my current state it was even harder. And looking back I regret not having stayed fully in role. Thankfully this didn't mean the weekend wasn't a success and there were many hot scenes with the masters and the other girls, where we were abused and terrified in many inventive ways.

Similarly when I play with Abel and HH my physical and mental state is a big factor in how successful the scene is. As well as they can both read me,  if I'm off, not myself, it's nigh impossible for them to predict how I'll respond.

At the weekend, with HH, we played two scenes that ordinarily would leave me broken, needing to resurface. But in both I never quite got there. The first was a military scene where I was in the brig for passing information to wiki leaks. I was unrepentant about my actions and as a consequence was experiencing a secret form of justice - learning complete obedience to my superiors. It was a humiliating scene,with the individual parts giving me shivers thinking back on them. But I blocked out the overall experience,  refusing to let him in. Until the very end, when he I had had enough, wasn't capable of much more and he showed me a small act of mercy that completely undid me. Alas it was just a small break through.

The second scene worked even better for me but still I didn't let go. Natalie, the senior house prefect, observed by her Housemaster getting intimate with her boyfriend. He is distraught to see his favourite pupil behaving so and makes her tell him, in embarrassing detail, exactly what she had done with her boyfriend before caning her harshly. At one point making her lie on her back, legs spread in the air, as he viciously caned her thighs. In almost every way this scene broke me, yet I did not cry.

Afterwards this puzzled me; I usually cry easily in scenes. On reflection I think given the upheaval (all good I promise) in my vanilla life I just couldn't let go. I couldn't switch off enough.

In fact I cried only once all weekend; my bedtime spanking on Saturday night. The hand spanking was hard. The slipper undid me. There were only four strokes, but they were at the fierce level that I have come to be afraid of. I'm psychologically more scared of the slipper than any other implement, even though other implements can hurt far more. I've never quite figured it out,  but it's the only thing guaranteed to make me cry.

And last night in bed when the enormity of the changes in my life, as positive and welcome as they are, hit me, I finally had that release that was so absent at the weekend. I cried copiously. Cried indulgently at getting everything I wanted, crying even though I don't want it any other way. And at that moment I wished desperately that this had happened at the weekend, over HH's knee with his firm hand spanking all the emotion out of me, and providing the reassurance and hugs afterwards. Or on Abel's next visit where crying could give way to the planning and excitement of a new life.

But still, at least it was letting go, in more ways than one.

7 comments:

Mija said...

There's very little as traumatic and difficult for me as moving. I've generally sat and wept a little in every space I've left. It's a combination of the memories and, well, home is a secure place for me. It's always painful to leave my cocoons, even when I'm very happy with the new space.

I guess a little grief always comes with change.

Abel1234 said...

Another beautiful piece of self-awareness, self-analysis.

I shared a similar sense of not being able to let go at the reformatory weekend that you mention. Partly, perhaps, because others didn't; partly because of the difficulty of staying in a dark character over such a long period. For me too, there were incredibly hot moments - times when it did become Officer Jenkins who was in the room, rather than real-me "playing". And some of the points when it was "real" us together, closing the door behind us and our characters, were beautifully intense.

Yet when we do "let go", isn't it amazing? Perhaps it's too much to expect or hope that that can be all the time; we're real people and dipping out of our real lives and emotions into pretend characters isn't always easy or appropriate. You process it so well here.

Your final paragraph just made me want to hold you very, very close and kiss away the tears. You're bringing about such big and positive changes to your life; seizing new opportunities always involves letting go of what came before, and that's bound to be a wrench - much as you want what you've planned for. And it's truly wonderful how the plan has come together. You deserve your success in "getting everything [you] want"; it's the result of your talent and desirability (to employers, LOL, as well as more generally!), and your focus on achieving it. Here's to the new life...

joeyred51 said...

Emma Jane: Thank you for sharing the detail of your weekend at the reformatory. Your skillful use of words enables the reader to emotionally feel the experience. You are wonderfully inventive. As an avid follower of your blog, I look forward to your every post.

indy said...

This is another really interesting post-- you've given me two ways to think about "letting go." The one I've more commonly thought about is seeking an emotional release in tears. That's very very hard for me to do in front of other people and has essentially never happened in spanking play. It would take an extremely compatible top and a long, trusting relationship to allow me to go there, I think, at least as me.

The other kind of letting go, allowing oneself to become the character one is playing in a scene, is also something I've never quite managed completely. I'm usually aware that I'm playing a role, even if I begin to feel, rather than pretend to feel, the emotions of the character. It's like part of me is the character and part of my is watching, analyzing. Maybe it's the curse of being an NT-- analysis being the most important thing in life and all that. ;)

Caroline Grey said...

And there's another kind of letting go, which I find the hardest. Letting go of my expectations in a scene. Of how it's supposed to go, or how I'm supposed to react, or how meaningful it's meant to be. Sometimes after play parties or weekends I've nursed a similar wistful feeling--as if I hadn't taken full advantage of it. Hell, I probably feel that way every single time.

Ms. Cassandra (Sandy) Park said...

I don't read your blog all the time but every time I pop in I am very inspired by your writing and your honesty about what you are going through. I wish I could express myself more like that. At the moment I don't really feel safe doing so, but perhaps someday soon. I hope you know how moving your scene experiences are and there are probably many beyond myself who identify.

Anonymous said...

Emma Jane the slipper yes oucheecan give big spanks to a botty ,love and spanks ,tim xxx