Cur: It's hard to be honest with myself.

* (Note: This post is old, about a year old, but relevant in my life.) *

This is hard to write.

I get jealous.

I shame myself about what gets me off.

My name is Ren and the above two sentences are honest statements.

I haven't posted a Winter Fire write up (this would have been Winter Fire 2017). I know. I'm slow. But I think, part of that, is because I need to get this out first. I needed to wrangle my feelings.

I've done a lot of consensually fucked up stuff with people. My carefully crafted tower of kink cards began the slow descent to chaos a few years ago when I had a series of break ups in quick succession. I had lovely, supportive partners who communicated with me, and were open, and understanding. ... I thought. But I didn't have that. I thought I did, for a long time. That my relationships were good, and they were fulfilling. And they brought me joy. And those things are true, I was always given just enough to keep me craving more. Even today, years later, I crave some of the shit I did with these people. But I no longer have access to those outlets.

I happened to reconnect with someone from my kink past at Winter Fire (17). I was so happy for the opportunity to talk to this person and allow them back into my life. I was happy to hear of their new successes, and hear witness to the things they struggled with in the times we weren't speaking. I was delighted to meet their new partner. I felt good, talking about what had happened between us in the past and what caused me to run. To get my feelings out to them and be heard, and understood and not judged.

My feels didn't start getting antsy until I started reading Winter Fire write ups. Then the anxiety started. A voice that bubbles up from the deapths and brings with it my greatest fears, pulling them to the surface while I try not to grimace and put on a happy face to get on with my life.

"You're messed up."
"No one would ever want you."
"You'll never find someone because you're too much for another person."
"You're damaged."
"No one wants a coyote for a pet."
"Something is wrong with you."
"You remember how much you jack off to [insert memory here], no one will deal with your fucked up needs."

This is a struggle. Not always daily, but these thought are far more present in my head than I will ever let on.

I'm a submissive masochist, I tell people that when we play. I get off on receiving pain, but not just physical pain. Emotional pain.. I'll come with that too. Degrading. Humiliating. Horrific. There is an endless cycle of auto-run shit in my head I love and am terrified to tell people about, especially people I have any level of "love" with when I play because now, my assumption is that they'll leave me too, because they can't deal. They'd rather go get that maltese who just wants to be pet and cuddled. They don't want to have to go get the catch pole to have a scene, or clean up blood or saliva off the ceiling when they're done. It's not appealing to have to grab the tranquilizer gun to deal with this animal. I don't really know how to get past this.

Deep breath.

Why did I title this writing 'cur'? I don't think it's a particularly common word outside of dog circles, but it was a word I could not get out of my head. When you use the word cur, you're talking about a dog that's either a mutt, very unattractive, aggressive, or all three. The word can also be used as an insult for a person, especially a despicable man. (definition from https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/cur ).

I see my former people, from my past kink life living well, with glowing, happy partners. And I can't help but wonder "what's so wrong with me that I can't find that?" I'm a good dog. Er..person. But then the voice starts again and it takes all of my energy to shut it down and cram it back down into the depths where I can't hear it anymore. It has shredded my ability to find compersion in some cases. Not all, and I hold onto that hope. But I will never forget the moment I told a now-ex that I had to actively put in work to form compersion for them and their partners and dynamics. The fact that it wasn't "effortless" and "easy" was apparently an issue, no matter if my needs were getting met. The less my needs were met, the less I was able to be happy about their other interactions. That seems fairly logical. Forget to feed the dog and starve it of it's needs and then wonder why it acts out when you play with the new puppy they got, and come back to the old dog, new puppy smell still on their hands.

I am coyote, I can't change that, and at the core of me, I don't want to. I just need to find the people who aspire to bring an animal under their control. Until then, I'm stuck, amongst a collection of domestic dog owners, wondering why no one understands. I'm so close to being this thing they desire, yet I will never be able to be that thing.