TheEdwardian
Posts: 23
Joined: 10/5/2005
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Hhmn... Appears that my 'October 3rd' and 'October 4th' postings have mysteriously disappeared... Most probably to the sincere pleasure of most Collarme Fora members. 
Ah well, no matter... I can always repost again. 
This is a reposting of a Blog entry I made back in October 3rd, 2005 on another Personals site (for an account I had long deactivated and deleted)...
The entry is in regards to my belief that those of BDSM extraction are more 'made' by "trigger events" in their lives, rather than simply born with the genetic predilection for BDSM. This essay goes over what I believe is my personal "trigger event" that lead me down my 'Dark Path' to BDSM.
(However, from those in the BDSM community I have corresponded with, a good percentage of them are certain that they were, since childhood, always of the BDSM 'bent', and that they cannot recollect any significant or particular event in their lives that changed their psychosexual makeup from 'vanilla normal' to 'BDSM kinky'.
Kinda throws a 'monkey wrench' into my theory applying to everyone in the BDSM spectrum... )
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Okay, my little diatribe is over, much to your relief, I suspect. In my last blog, I stated that I might go over the 'history' of my 'kink'...
To explain a little: It is my belief that my particular 'kink' had a 'trigger'; An event in my childhood that led me down the path to BDSM. It is my suspicion that most, if not all, BDSM aficionados also have a similar 'trigger' in their past that set their 'foot' on the Dark Path.
I believe that my 'Trigger Event' happened when I was about 6-7 years old. In the 1970's, I lived with my mother in San Marcos, Texas, in a small, two-bedroom condo on the outskirts of the town.
I was sick, running a fever, so my Mom put me to bed, and for the first time I can remember, gave me two "puffy", cherry-flavored, quickly melting tablets. They were some form of children's aspirin, but they were sweet in my mouth, and before that day, I had only limited experience with candy...
Mom said the tablets would make me feel better, and I watched her screw the cap back on the pill bottle (child safety caps hadn't even been invented yet, I don't think...), and place the bottle in a little cupboard on the wall in my room, supposedly well out of my reach...
Well, it wasn't. When mom left the room, I jumped out of bed, and like a monkey, clambered up a double-decker bed next to the cupboard, to get the bottle of children's aspirin.
I then proceeded to eat, chew, and savor each and every tablet out of that bottle, until the bottle was empty.
(Doctors later told me that I had consumed enough aspirin, for my body weight, to kill me twice over...)
I will never be able to explain what possessed me after eating all those pills (I should have just gone back to bed, and fallen into a slumber I never would have woken from), but for some reason, I had formed the idea that what I had done was a "Good Thing", and that I needed to show my Mom what a great thing I had done. (My thinking at the time was simplistic; if two tablets were going to make me feel better, then more was even better, right?)
Well, you can image what happened when my Mom saw the empty aspirin bottle. Major Freak-Out, Big-Time.
I was only 6-7 years old, and I had not the foggiest clue that what I had done was dangerous (my mother probably didn't want to tell me that I might die); I just knew suddenly I was in big trouble for doing something I thought was right.
The next series of events was a whirlwind. The frantic bundling me into the car, the nightmarish drive to the hospital emergency room, and all the while, I remember asking what was wrong, what had I done, and where were we going. My memory tells me that no one would tell me a thing; I was just in trouble.
I don't remember much about the hospital emergency room, except for the most traumatic moments. I remember being taken from my Mom by two burly, almost butch-like female nurses. They were not thin and svelte like my Mom, but bulky and muscular, or that could have just been their nursing scrubs... I fought and cried the whole way, struggling against them, screaming for my mother, and still no one would explain what was going on.
I vaguely remember the nurses trying to assure me that they were trying to help me, but I would have nothing to do with that. In the end, the nurses really had no choice...
Those in the medical profession, especially back in the 70's, can probably remember the crucial piece of emergency room equipment: The Child Restrainment Board. I remember this flat, wide board with straps everywhere, and an incongruous cartoon character stenciled in the center of it, with the manufacturer's name.
The nurses, if anything, where efficient and knew their job. No matter how much I struggled against them, they soon had me fully immobilized. I could barely move a muscle, much less any extremity, and my head was fully secured.
I remember crying for my mother as best I could, tears streaming, until the stomach pump came...
The last things I can remember are the nurses forcing my mouth open with something that tasted of stainless steel, and then the cold tube being forced down my throat, violating my esophagus until it reached my stomach. Then the pump was turned on, and something in my belly was vibrating, thumping, and sucking away at my innards...
My memory grows hazy and blank past that point. More than likely shock. The only feelings I had afterwards was a deep, unabiding sense of injustice, that I had been severely punished for a crime I didn't commit. And still, no one, not my mother or my siblings, would tell me what had happen or why it had happened.
After that event, I started to take a keen interest in subjects that most people would not consider seemly or appropriate for a child... I would collect rope, make makeshift cages, 'kidnap' my sister's dolls and bind them without any clothes, collect handkerchiefs and old socks for blindfolds and gags, etc. I was asked on many occasions why I did this, but I couldn't explain... I just felt better doing it; As though my Universe was more in balance as I perpetrated such acts.
As I got older, this 'kink' became more pronounce, until it is the fully-fledged 'shadow self'/desire within me. I have already collected all the books and art, bought all the BD magazines, rented all the simplistic BDSM videos, scrounged on the Internet for pictures, paid my way in to BDSM video websites... None of it really satiates like it used too... At this point, I really want to take my needs to the next level... Now if I can only find some willing woman... Sigh...
Enough,
The Edwardian
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October 3rd, 2005 Blog repost - 'Tigger' of my kink - 
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