Word Vomit

I've been thinking about this one for quite some time, but I wasn't entirely sure how to put it into words. Ok, so I'm *still* not exactly sure how to put it into words, but whatever. I'm going to try, anyway, and will come back and clarify later, if necessary.

I know this is a fairly controversial point of view, but since when has that really bothered me?

I believe that there are certain people--and, yes, they are most likely few and far between--whose place in the world is in the ownership of another. Yeah, I believe slavery has valid applications, and not just "ooh, fun sex slavery," either.

I don't think the need to be owned has anything to do with age, sex, race, religion, financial status (or lack thereof), or anything else. I just think that there are certain people in the world who function at their best only when they are under control of another, kinky sex or no.

I'd never advocate for slavery as an institution, simply because slavery as an institution is too rife with corruption and exploitation to be valid. However, on the other hand, I think the lack of that sort of outlet to the people who most need it is less than healthy as well.

As you may have guessed from this little monologue, I am one of these people. If reincarnation is something that actually happens, I was almost surely a house slave in ancient Rome.

Sure, it's easy for people who don't get it (and that'd be most of the people on the face of the planet) to say there's something wrong with this particular mindset. You can say I'm a doormat. You can say that if I'd set boundaries, people wouldn't take advantage of me. You can say that it stems from a lack of self-esteem or whatever mental illness happens to be de rigeur at the moment. You can say that I need to learn a more adult way of dealing with the world, that I need to grow up and take responsibility, blah, blah, blah. You wouldn't be saying anything I've never said to myself.

You can argue that I'm this way because my mother hardly ever let me out of her sight until I was 17 or so. You would quite possibly be right.

However, what's really more humane? Forcing someone like me into years of therapy, hell-bent on changing his/her natural predilections, and making him/her believe that there's something inherently wrong with him/her, and ultimately failing and making everyone involved miserable, or allowing that person to embrace what he/she is in a non-exploitative manner?

I've trained horses for years. Not green-breaking them, but refining them. And I can tell you right now, it's a hell of a lot easier to work with what you've got than it is to try to make a Clydesdale into a racehorse. You end up with a lot happier horse in the end, too.

So if people can agree that it's kinder to let a horse be what it is, then why's that not true for humans?

I have a degree in psychology, and I can tell you unequivocally that psychology, as a profession, and pop psychology, as a pastime for armchair therapists, has failed humanity miserably. Miserably. Read Martin Seligman if you need criticism of the discipline from someone who's a lot smarter than I am.

But I digress.

Anyway, if you're not convinced, then go ahead and stop reading because nothing I'll say from this point on will change your mind.

...

Ok. You're still with me.

I think that there are hallmarks of someone like me, someone for whom being property is a viable option--and, yes, there have been psychological studies done which demonstrate that for most people, the loss of freedom is devastating, but for a few oddities, it's not. Let's look at me, for example, because I'm an unrelenting narcissist, and this blog is about me, after all.

Yes, I was extremely sheltered for most of my life. I'm also not a dumbass. I'm capable of taking care of myself, in a perfunctory sort of way. I can take care of the basics, but as for the rest, I don't really give a shit. I don't really lack ambition. I can do whatever needs doing, but I'm not very good at knowing what needs doing. I lack direction on my own.

I'm also incredibly self-destructive if there's not someone around to stop me. I won't go into this in any sort of depth, but imagine every self-destructive behavior known to man except drugs, and you pretty much have the portrait of me.

Then, there's the compelling evidence that I simply perform better when I'm told to do something than when I have to figure it out myself. On my own, I waffle and waver and never really get anywhere. Call it Hamlet Syndrome. I have no impulse control, and I basically just do whatever the fuck strikes my fancy at the time, whether it's a good idea or not.

So, yes. Inability to make decisions. Lack of direction. Lack of willpower. That's not even bringing up the inherent desire to please, the way I cave to whatever the strongest influence in my life is, etc.

I'm probably carrying about twice the weight I should be carrying. I've never been a small girl, but I'm disgustingly huge now. I hate to look at myself. But on my own, I'll never really do anything about it. I'll try. For about three days. That's pretty much how long it takes my willpower to run out.

But my Master told me to start exercising, not for myself, but for him. I've been steadily at it for nearly two weeks now. Yeahhhh....

He told me once that one of two things happens to people like me. Either we find ourselves in abusive relationships, one after the other, or we somehow manage to fall into a situation where our need to be a possession, of sorts, is used for good, rather than for evil. Now, honestly, I'm too damned mean and stubborn for the former. (My nutjob ex once threw a phone at me, and I calmly picked it up, turned around, and slung it back at him, then advanced on him with one of those crazy, sociopathic smiles that you normally see on the villains in horror movies, saying, "What now? What NOW?!?!?!" I think he was afraid I was about to slice him to bits or something.) Somehow I got lucky enough to get the latter. Kinky sex notwithstanding.

I know, without question, that if he told me to kill myself, I'd do it. In fact, some of my darkest emotionally masochistic fantasies involve him deciding he doesn't want me anymore, but as a reward for my faithful service, he tortures me to death, rather than letting me go and forcing me to face all that release would entail.

Yeah, I'm fucked up. Shut up.

The upshot of which is that I really believe I need more of this type of control in my life. I'm afraid I'll never do anything or be anything worthwhile otherwise. I obviously suck at doing things without it. Not to mention how good, how secure, how WHOLE it makes me feel.

So whatever. Call me crazy, call me whatever. The truth is, I need it. I need my whole life to be subject to the whims of my Owners. Not just parts of it. Not just, "Hey, do our laundry when you're here." All of it. Not that I think I'd be micromanaged. That's not our style. Plus, eventually, I'd go psycho. Just tell me what you need done and get the hell out of my way, please. I need something to work towards and someone who really wants to me accomplish it.

There's a line from the old Rob Thomas/Santana collaboration from back in the late 90s, early 00s ("Smooth") that goes, "I would change my life to better suit your moods."

Yeah. That's pretty much it.

Anyway, I've been awfully long-winded. The point is, I suck at school, at work, at life, period. And since none of us are independently wealthy, I guess being a real live house slave is pretty much out of the question right now. So I need direction. I need to be more under the thumbs of my Owners to get my life out of its current shithole, or else I'm pretty sure I'll be in this godawful state of ickiness forever.

God, it's gotta be hell to be an Owner. 'Cause when your pet looks at you and goes, "Here's my shit. Now fix it," that's gotta be a horrible feeling. But, yeah. Here's my shit. Help me fix it?