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Kink and grief
Last month I buried my father.
Most of what I know in life, I’ve learned from books. (So many of them were the books my father gave me. His response to my questions, since I learned to read, was to haul out a weighty tome: “Here is where you can learn all about Greek Mythology. Astronomy. Psychology of crowds. Life of Chopin.”) In these books, I’ve read about grief. From non-fiction, I knew of its stages; from fiction, I imagined I knew its effects.
I hadn’t known, not until now, what grief was. The books left me unprepared, my heart open for its blade.
And you know what? I can’t tell you what it is. If you’ve never felt it, you’ll be just as open until it strikes, and the only way to protect yourself is never to love.
I’d like to tell you, though, about the effect it’s had on my kink.
For the last four weeks I’ve felt like the warm, glowing ball of kink that normally sits somewhere inside my ribcage, has been carved out. My brain still knows to reach down for it at the usual moments, when I would normally respond to kinky information with deep instinctive thrill – except now, instead of this thrill, I feel something like a punch to the solar plexus.
Before, it would go like this:
Adele’s brain: “Somebody on TV just said ‘spanking‘!”
Adele’s id: “Oooh. Mmm. Purrr. Lovely.”
For the last few weeks it’s been like this:
Adele’s brain: “People are talking about spanking!”
Adele’s id: “I’m going to be sick now.”
I’ve had stretches of time when my spanking mojo has been low before; for the most part this would happen when I had a fever, or was otherwise unwell. But where before I reacted with indifference, grief made me feel revulsion. It’s the most disconcerting sensation: I turn to familiar comforts, only to find that they hurt me instead.
It’s also all kinds of awful when talking to my kink family. My husband and my friends are used to communicating with me in certain ways. There are familiar jokes, references and trains of thought that we all use with each other. Well, they don’t work. People who are trying to support me try to talk to me in a certain way, and I don’t respond in ways they expect me to. It’s unfair. I end up trying to react the way I always have, just to be polite, and end up exhausted, frustrated, and craving time on my own. Except it sucks being alone, and I reach out for comfort, and the whole awful thing starts over again.
I expect to feel better.
I hope blogging can help.
I don’t know if it will. But hey, I can try.
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26 Responses to “Kink and grief”
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My father died unexpectedly a number of years ago. There are so many questions, thoughts, raw feelings and emotions you go through. You do look at your life in a different way. My own experience his death changed my world massively, hence why I’m here now. I saw a psychologist for at least six months, simply to talk about what was going on with me and the questions his death had posed. It’s still going to be very raw for you Adele so just take your time, try and focus on the fond memories, I know people say time is a healer but it truly is.
Love Andi xxxx
Thanks for this, Andi. It helps to hear it from somebody who’ve felt like this before.
I know what I’m going through isn’t anything like unusual. Almost everybody loses their parents (the alternative being too horrific to think of), but until it’s your turn, you don’t know what you’ll feel.
I related to every word of this. A couple of years ago (there are times I could give you the # of days still, but times when it’s now just “a couple of years”) I lost someone I love very, very suddenly and horribly. Kink really took a very odd role in my life. Sometimes I wanted the catharsis – and then the minute we’d start I would be screaming at him to stop touching me, to OMG please stop! And those stupid “stages?” I’ve been through all of them at least twice now. :/ Except denial. I never was in denial of what happened – unless it was for such a short time that I didn’t recognize it as such. But the others I cycled through over and over — and still do sometimes, which is why some days I can tell you it’s been “a few years” and some days I can yell you she’s been gone for 1,181 days.
*hugs* It’s not easy, but you’ll survive it, and you’ll enjoy your kink again, too — when you’re ready to.
I know I can’t say anything that will help but it is lovely to hear from you Adele. Made my day.
Love xx
I can’t explain to you what you are going through. Only you know what it is you are going through. Some may say you have some latent guilt over your kink that the absence of a loved one who, I presume, did not know of your kink is causing you to deny yourself your kink because you feel guilty over hiding it, and now you know he never can confess it to him(not that you ever should have, it was not his business).
The solution is individual. Yet, I can offer you this advice: find what you like in life. Enjoy it, and enjoy it without guilt. I don’t know anything about your father, but most parents want their children to be happy and would actually be upset to learn their children feel misery because of their passing and guilt over who they are. Be who you are, whatever you find that is, and be you.
Hi there.
What you’ve written is so very painful and heartfelt. I’m so sorry for your loss and do understand, at least after my own fashion. Two years ago my grandmother died (not unexpectedly and at an advanced age). Her loss was my first experience with real grief. Reading your entry and writing this, I still feel the loss.
What happened after she died wasn’t only depression, though it was that too. My grandmother had been the most stable adult in my childhood. She always made me feel loved and safe. Without her, even though I’d long since ceased to be a child, I felt fragile and fearful. My mother felt it too — it was like we were separated somehow from everyone else. For the first time we understood the rituals of grieving practiced in decades before our own.
This kink we share is powerful and intense. It stirs up so much emotion and feeling. And it’s loud. That was the last thing I needed. I wanted security and quiet. I stayed in Portland for a month after she died and then returned for another month at Christmas. The greatest comfort was to sit and talk about my grandmother, remembering stories, with my mother. We made foods she liked, watched her favorite films and played her favorite records.
Paul was great while I was going through this. He listened to my stories and comforted me when the memories had me in tears. He also didn’t complain about the time spent away as I extended travel and spent more time away. The kink did come back, but it took time and I’m not sure I’m the same person I was before.
Much love. Take whatever time you need and be very gentle with yourself.
I don’t suppose this helps but…
When my mother died, I couldn’t cry… I think it was more the pain of her last illness than the death itself. A horrible business.
A long while afterwards, a CP session released the tears. It was rough on the person who punished me, I don’t suppose that person ever realised that those weren’t tears of physical pain.
My father died in the summer of 2000. I was 43 at that time. I preferred to be alone as much as possible, rather than in the company of my family. For a long while, things which I knew to be important dwindled into insignificance, yet I was able to find solace in mundane things.
I have no belief in an immortal soul, but the conscious mind of a dead person can enjoy an extended existence through other minds. The genius of Archimedes, the wit of Chaucer, etc., live on after them. The same can happen to anyone, whether famous, notorious, or ordinary. All it takes is for those who knew them to spread the word, whether just among family and friends, or to anyone who wants to listen, read, or look at an image.
You won’t “get over it”. Don’t try to “pull yourself together”. Your life cannot be the same as it was before. The kink you knew may return, but probably not before you want it to.
JamesM
Sorry to hear about your loss.
I hope that you have many good memories of your father, to carry with you for life.
Prefectdt
It is two years since my Father died. You have my sympathy for your loss and I agree with what you say about the way life changes. Loss and the deep emotions it brings elbows out all of life’s finer points and demands to be centre stage.
As others have said, time does eventually allow you to rebalance your life.
JonathanP
Your father’s intelligence, wit, breadth and depth of understanding shine through you Adele. I see it like this: he gave you the courage, openness,awareness and honesty to enquire and to seek- people who have the kink are often very artistic ( Francis Bacon) or literary ( Philip Larkin,Rousseau,Ken Tynan) and confused by the conflict between the power of love and the love of power that is the faultline of the kink but being strong and artistic explore the confusion in a playful way , probing its complexities. That is life itself- the kink is a very powful portal into fundamental drives and inner motive forces, a spanking fetish strikes me (no pun intended) as a safety valve for all sorts of confused feelings picked up from childhood or maybe just part of the hardwiring – what the ancient Greeks would call hamartia, and at a moment of sad loss such as this , the confusion all becomes too much. In my case, at such difficult moments , I have attempted to deny or purge spanking thoughts , to live and love in a vanilla way like a sort of religious convert until, with a rueful smile, I realised that even that attempt at catharsis was a kind of atonement scenario engineered by my spank sensibility and that spanko was written though me like brighton through a pink stick of rock. You write on a very high plain of discourse and yet that discourse comes out of an activity frowned upon and censured by the vanilla world in the same way that homosexuality used to be in the West and still is in most places. So breathe quietly in the knowledge that you are loved by a wide community of people,
Vogel
Take as much time as you need, Adele. If blogging helps, great, keep doing it. If it doesn’t, we’ll happily wait for you.
Oh, sweetheart. It’s good to hear from you again. You have been in my thoughts a great deal these past few weeks, and I’m so so sorry for your grief and loss.
Your description of the consequences to your kink is somewhat familiar. I’ve had a similar response after experiencing the death of a loved one, or a bad breakup. It will almost certainly come back in time, if you want it to, but in the meantime the loss of a familiar coping mechanism is hard.
I hope your friends and family can learn to adjust while you are still grieving and healing. If you want quiet, vanilla company sometime, it would be lovely to see you, but I expect you’ll want to keep things close and low-key.
People read your blog because they’re interested in your thoughts and like your personality. I daresay you won’t lose much readership if you need to talk about things other than kink for a while.
Much love to you, sweetheart. I hope it gets easier soon.
Adele, I have no advice or better words to give than what is written before me, but I wanted to say that I’m listening. Write what you want, when you want, how you want, and feel what you feel.
Hugs,
s
Hi sweetie, thank you for being so honest with your thoughts and feelings. Thinking of you and sending lots of hugs your way.
Lots of love
EJ xxx
I’ve sent you e-mail. Let me know if you didn’t get it. Hugs to you.
Hi Adele
The grief of losing a parent is something you cannot rationalise, it has to be experienced and dealt with in your own way.
Fortunately my father lived to a very good age and retained all his wits to the very last.
I still two years later miss him, the thought that I can’t pick up the phone and hear that dulcet Yorkshire voice is possibly the most distressing thing.
Having said that my mother is descending into the demi-monde of dementia, and that is even sadder.
I know you will slowly begin to come to terms with everything, and eventually life will resume as before -except for that gap.
My sincere condolences.
Jimi
WOW. I knew it had been a hugh hit when You were away for so long. I’v been through this both parents and My first wife who was only 23, leaving Me with 3 boys, 5 years,20 months and 9 months. The saying time heals all wounds is BULLSHIT! Time only helps You deal with it. But You will learn to deal with it, and eventualy Your urdges will restore themselves. But for Me anyway they did restore themselves but I found many of them on a different shelf? before I ramble on to much, Don’t ever hesitate to contact Me. Your Friend Csheriff
I’m sorry for your loss. This resonated with me, because I lost my mother last year, and had similar feelings about kink. You expressed it beautifully and bravely.
Just a note to say I was sorry to hear your news, and I know what you must be going through. I lost my dad at this time of year a few years back, and it does seem to make it worse – not that any time of year is good.
I’m sure your interest in other things WILL come back, but it is true that it may be a very long haul.
I would recommend (if you are looking for something to read) CS Lewis’ “A grief observed”. I don’t know whether you would be likely to read his work, but I can assure you it is not a sort of facile “Christian’s easy answer” but an exploration of a time when even Christianity didn’t seem to help at the loss of his wife.
I don’t follow your blog as regularly as I did at one time, but I still catch up from time to time, and hope to see signs that you are getting through this difficult time.
Ernest
I took a break from blogging (and reading other people’s blogs) recently, and I just came over here a few minutes ago, for the first time in weeks. So I just read the news. What can I say… I am so sorry to hear about your father’s death. My condolences to you and your family. I send you my love, and I wish you a lot of strength.
As you know, I lost my father last year. I never wrote about it on my blog – as a matter of fact, I think this is the first time that I’ve ever mentioned it publicly. I guess I tend to keep “Ludwig’s life” and “my other (normal, vanilla) life” more separate than most of us. Which isn’t better or worse, it’s just my own way of doing things.
Anyway, the point I want to make is: yes, you are right. You don’t know what grief is until you’ve experienced it like that. Study books and fiction are one thing, life is another entirely. And it’s hard, in these first few weeks and months, to feel that things will ever get better again – that your grief will pass, that life will go on, without the person you loved, and that you can find true happiness again. Again, you may know that this is possible from books or from the stories of others – but it’s hard to actually feel it when your grief is as fresh as that.
But trust me: things do get better. You can and will be happy again (very probably even kinky again!). No, the pain never totally goes away. It’s still with me after over a year, it’s still fresh in a way, and I believe it will always be there. The loss of a parent leaves a hole that can never be filled again. But you can live on with that hole, you can make your peace with it, and you can find happiness in spite of it.
So, these are the best words I can offer for now, spontaneously. As for your kink: we all react differently to grief. Some people totally lose their sex drive / their kink for a while, others actually experience a heightened drive, and they use it to find some enjoyment and distraction. Both are natural reactions, and both are okay or “appropriate” in their own way, if you will. I wouldn’t worry about it too much!
Neither would I worry about not being able to respond “in ways [people] expect me to”. Again, we all have our own way to deal with our grief, so there is no expected way here. It’s not about what is expected, it’s about what works for you and what is good for you. That is what matters. Eventually, you’ll find something that works. And yes, I believe that a bit of selfishness can be necessary, and entirely legitimate, when you are in a period of grief. So think about yourself first, and about the others later. You have great friends and loved ones to support you, they’ll be okay with it.
Love and strength, Adele! You are in my thoughts.
Your friend,
Ludwig
Dear Adele,
I’m so sorry to hear about you father’s death. I’ve lost my mother a few weeks ago and I know that this will affect and maybe change my life forever. My kink isn’t gone, but I’m totally burned-out, having tried to manage my mother’s estate during the recent weeks and still trying to understand what having lost her really means. All I know is that she was my closest confidant (for example I read my mails to Ludwig to her when we started our correspondence), that she has shaped me a lot and that she will be a part of me forever. No one can ever take her spot. I’m very thankful for the time we had and for everything she has done for me. And I’m very grateful that I had the chance to hold her hand in her last hours and to give back a little bit by telling her that I’m at her side and that she can let loose. But at the moment, I’m just seeking a time to rest and being hold tightly.
Please allow yourself to just be and to take the time you need to grieve, think, feel and heal! Don’t set yourself under pressure. You have the ability to express yourself so clearly and openly – I’m sure that this will make it much easier for your family and friends to understand what you need right now (even if you are not completely sure what it is exactly) and to deal with your different reactions.
In case you like to talk to someone who is in a situation very similar to yours – you’re always very welcome to contact me!
Consider yourself warmly hugged!
Yours,
Kaelah
Yeah… Sadly, Kaelah knows only too well what it’s like. I didn’t mention the somber news about her mother in my first comment, because they were for Kaelah to share first, not for me. But yes, these have been, and still are, some very difficult weeks for her as well. I’m just trying to be there for her and do whatever I can to help. Hopefully not doing too crappy a job at it.
Hugs and love to you and Mr. Haze. We’ll be in touch.
Adele, I think everything that could be said has been said in those twenty-one comments on your blog. As one of them said, loss of a loved one leaves a hole which is never filled. I lost my wife sixteen years ago and that hole is still there. But we learn to steer around it and so will you. Think too how lucky we are that these feelings can nowadays be shared with you by caring friends far and wide through the unlikely combination of kink and computer.
But blogs can be demanding chores when overlaid on the pattern of normal life and you must take your own good time before you come back on stream. That’s important. We, your virtual playmates, can wait !
Peter
I have not been following your blog for a while and I just popped in. I am very sorry to hear about your loss.
I lost my father-in-law about 2 years ago and it still hurts (he in many ways was better to me than my own father).
I know it sounds trite but it does get easier.
Best Wishes
Gary
My father is still alive, but he’s had just about every ailment possible, from diabetes to open-heart surgery, from a bad stroke to cancer.
I was with him when he had his stroke. I was still in university when he had it. After going out on the previous night, it was only a bit of luck (or Fate or whatever you may call it) that I was up and dressed at that time on a Friday morning.
We (my mother, sister and myself) were sure we were going to lose him. I remember thinking while driving to the hospital that it would be the final time I’d see him alive. I had my time to say my peace to him. He survived, but it was very close for a few weeks. During that time, I also lost my last surviving grandfather.
I was in Finals time at university at the time my dad was sick. I thought I couldn’t go on, but, somehow, I found solace in my studies.
I hope you find it wherever and in whatever you may.