The weekend started out how every weekend does with Mumfort and myself – stormy.  We were travelling the hour and a bit from my place to his house, and it was raining or snowing depending on the kilometre of highway we were on.  The tree line became indistinguishable from the road, and the road a mirror, reflecting nothing except the danger of driving on it.  I have grown accustomed to driving in such weather with him.  I disliked that drive more than I normally dislike bridges – that night, I looked forward to finding the bridge in the endless highway.

I was selective in my toys this weekend.  Rope.  My suspension ring.  Finally.

For the years that I’ve been the witness to suspension, or the dori, or the student, I had never actually suspended someone.  And now, an electric winch purchase that had yet to be tried, was all set up and waiting.  Mumfort had work to do on Saturday, which was the real reason we were going (it was supposed to be the following weekend).  It was a quick call made on Thursday or Friday.  I didn’t have much time to look into what I wanted to do.  I didn’t have much time to research or practise.

I didn’t want to do a long suspension, or a difficult one.  I knew that I wanted to do a partial suspension and if that felt comfortable for me, then I would do a full suspension from the partial.  My thought was a box tie type shinju.  Tie an ankle to the ring…then lift, with one foot remaining on the ground.  I would move forward to a full suspension by doing a crotch shibari, a frogtie on both seperate knees.

I spent some time looking at pictures for some last minute motivation.  Mumfort joined me.  Within minutes, I was doubting myself.  Everything I’ve come to know about rope then, I doubted.  How was I going to do a suspension if I doubted what I knew?  Doubt, panic, fear, frustration.  “I shouldn’t do this, I’m not ready to do this.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I am stupid for thinking I could do this.” And my mind raced on, with the stability I knew cracking beneath me.  I started to get pulled along the cracks, out of control, but being oddly aware of where I was headed.  This wasn’t the direction I wanted to be going in though.

I tried to pull myself out of that groove.  “I do want to do this”, “I know what I’m doing”, “I have a plan, and if things don’t feel right just stop”.  I upset myself in the battle with my will.  And for a moment, I forgot that I’ve been tying myself up since I was 16.  I forgot the feel of rope going through my hands.  I forgot the peace I get when I feel the hemp between my fingers – the smell.  When I remembered, I was angry with myself.

I would try this thing.  And I did.  The shop was not ideal conditions in it’s current state.  This would mean some slight changes in the way that I handled rope.  It was enough to throw me off balance again – however, I was expecting this.  I did what I intended to do, with a redo because I wasn’t sure of the length of rope needed to lift him up to his tip toes with the height of the ring all the way up.  He spaced out pretty quick.  And then I tied the ankle up – forgetting an ankle tie I’ve done to myself at least 100 times now.  I decided to not let it discourage me and just did a basic wrap around his ankle and tied it to the ring.  This worked great for the first couple of minutes, but then the ropes settled, and his ankle dropped out to the side, and down a bit.  The crotch rope would be next, so I started doing that.  And it wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, either, so I decided to not do that this time.  I was already shaken and doubtful of myself.

Disappointed.

For no reason, really.  It went fine.  Nothing dramatic happened.  He felt fine.  The bondage was even.  No serious incidents occured.  He came down easily.

I took a quick moment to try a single-rope, self-suspension.  The crotch rope came easy to me then – go figure.  It felt freeing to be hanging there for the few seconds that my body could.  I even went upside down and vertical for a brief moment.  If I did it again, I’d double over the ropes.  And then, I felt more comfortable.  We walked back to his house.

My mind processed onwards. And it brought up some things which I have to sort through.  I didn’t realize how much they impact me until that night.  I had a mini breakdown which I only remember parts of.

The next night, I wanted to practice more.  I wanted to try the boxtie again.  I wanted to try a hogtie I’d seen online that day.  Things started fine.  I made alterations to how I tied him.  Instead of him standing (a foot taller than me), I had him kneel.  I did the boxtie again – however, I hate incorporating men’s hands into that, because they are so much less flexible than women and generally, it’s the hands that need saving first.  Sucks for that to be the last thing you can get to.  When he got to the ground, however, I realized that in this shibari, he was hunched forward – and his hands could not go around back.  Pooh.  Defeats the purpose, that.

So I untied him.  I would practise other random things.  Like that stupid foot shibari that I had tried the night before and randomly forgot throwing me for a loop during the suspension.  I still couldn’t remember it.  Piss off, I thought in my head.  And that’s exactly what happened, I got pissed off.  Eventually, I calmed down enough to try it on my own ankle – and get it.  Mumfort did what he thought would help in calming me down.  In the process, I confused him, myself, and had another semi-breakdown which caused me to go barefoot in the snow just to shock my thoughts still.  I’m sure it freaked him out in the moment and made me look like a mad-woman.  But it helped me.

And no, this is not common for me to have such moments.

Now, I’ve processed the shit clear out of the weekend.  The debate that sparked my initial concern was all tied to the fact that I doubt myself.  I needed to be right so that I didn’t have to doubt everything else I knew about rope bondage (or everything period, I suppose).  Once the doubt came into my head, I recovered, unbalanced though.  I felt silly and stupid.  I did doubt my abilities.

I recognized that I’ve been letting mumfort do a lot of problem solving, and suggesting.  For a split second, I saw an image of me – talking my ex through a suspension with me, and how to do it, and why I was right.  I realized what was happening with me.  I am not in control.  I was letting my self doubt  win, and it took my ability to control away.  And I scanned the past few weeks.  I’ve felt distant, not in control, and unsettled.  I haven’t been dominant – just kinky (which is fine – just not what I want).

And in a second, it clicked, and it’s time for me to steer myself back on the road to avoid the ditch.