When Self-Care Becomes Performative

I love being seen, being watched, feeling another's gaze upon my skin when I am feeling my most vulnerable but also totally secure in my body . . . When I feel the exact way I know they see me being. That moment of pure turn-on at the point of connection . . . be it physical, energetic, or from afar over a shared experience . . . I love it so much, that I decided to start playing that way with all of you. 

I had a coworker come over to help me take pictures after putting on a dip on my own for the very first time. I remember her asking if I wanted my paci and I instantly slipped into little space as my shoulders dropped slightly forward and I tilted my head down and looked up at her, eyes big and bright, from under my bangs and nodded eagerly: "Mhm, yes please" I said. She passed it to me and I giggled and rolled over showing her my little padded bum. 

The next meeting at work when we both knew our little secret (or perhaps I should say my little secret . . . ) sent a rush through my entire body. I tingled with excitement knowing her gaze had been on me, and now was being shared with the world, but no one else in that room knew.

Thing is, like I shared last week, for me this play isn't an always needed thing. In fact, it doesn't always feel supportive for me depending what my week has been like, how I have interacted with others, or what I am currently processing emotionally. So somewhere along the way of creating for all of you, I lost connection to what the play meant for me. And both are so incredibly important. Because, what I have realized recently is that tools of self-care need to be protected. That doesn't mean I cannot play with all of you, but what it does mean is I need to be very aware of the intention when I do, and I need to equally keep certain times safe just for me, so I can fully experience the nourishment this play does bring for me.

I wasn't doing that and I was feeling drained and disengaged here, and also so separate from my body, my emotions, and my pleasure in my offline life. It was not sustainable, and it was not fun. 

So what does this play mean for me, typically? Well, contrary to what a lot of people may think . . . on my own, this (meaning little space/ABDL) is extremely non-sxual. Dips offer compression which helps calm my nervous system. Being little and allowing myself to be cute and at times more feminine allows me to experience things I didn't when I was younger. Crawling around, bundling up in a cozy blanket, or snuggling with my stuffy and my paci helps me cut down unnecessary stimulation and brings me to centre, to calm, and to my breath. It helps me integrate my inner child by allowing her to play so that she can grow to meet me where I'm at. 

See, long ago, her growth was stunted. She felt abandoned, betrayed, unwanted . . . all sorts of things that made her feel like she didn't get to be safe in this world, like her existence was defined by how others saw her and the value she sought for herself was wrong. She was othered, and ostracized, and she hid. It wasn't until this year (I'm 30 now by the way) that she finally felt safe enough to come out of hiding, and that I started to help her heal by showing her that I am never leaving her, that she is save, that she is loved, and she is valued. 

When I get lost in performing, and when my little space loses intention and focus on her, she hides again. And when she hides, my big self is less able to make decisions that are anchored in safety and self-assurance. It's an interesting cycle, really . . . 

So yep, I do plan to show more cozy photos and I also intend to keep a sacred space for my inner-child to play, in private, so that she can be absolutely loved in a way that feels right for her.