Being Known
On FB yesterday I started participating in one of those popular little word games wherein a friend assigns you a letter and other friends use one word that starts with that letter to describe you, my letter was A. Among other positive descriptors I got 3 adorables and a couple of allurings I'm pretty sure that is a few steps up from the numerous "sweet" that appears in my high school yearbook. :) This afternoon my dad decides to add his two cents to the list and his word was agonistic the meaning of which is argumentative. I saw it and just started shaking my head and laughing because I somehow doubt it has ever occurred to my dad that he is the only person I am that way with. In fact what made it extra funny to me is one of my friends actually described me as amiable higher up on the list.
It made me think about my relationship with my parents which even when it's good it's bumpy. Keeping the peace was a big thing in our house and even when you were right you were wrong as long as it meant not rocking the boat. I generally went along with it while I internally counted the down the days until graduation and escape. I rarely actually got into trouble although I was punished pretty regularly and I was known by my brothers and in school as a goody two shoes. Funnily enough my parents remember me very differently, they swear I was the most difficult child to raise of the 4 of us. They insist I was constantly raising hell even though they can't actually remember any actual events and the stuff they do remember is pretty tame on the teen o' meter, lol.
This brings me to thoughts of being seen. That was something I craved growing up, to truly be seen and known. I rebelled internally from the oft spoke notion that my dad "knew" what I was thinking better than I did because he had once been a child/teen. He claimed omniscience which drove me up a wall, to this day I get my back up when people say they know what I am thinking because unless I have told them, no they don't. And sometimes even if I have told them they still don't because I am not always able to fully express the subtleties and nuances of my thoughts and feelings. On the other hand I love the way Das sees me, he gets me. He spends so much time talking to me, observing me, listening to me. When he says he knows me he's earned that right, he's put in the work and continues to do so daily. When I change even in small ways he often picks up on it and points it out before I have made it transparent to myself. Does that mean he knows me better than I know myself, not precisely, what he has is the privileged position of observing me and being close but not encumbered by whatever messiness is in my head telling me the stories about myself. He has a clear view so that while I will eventually take my mental machete and clear a path he is hovering above and seeing where it needs to be cleared and where the destination is.
As a person, as a woman being seen and known is vital to me. As a slave it's vital to our dynamic. How could he master that which he doesn't know? Knowing who I am has enabled him to shape me into who he wants me to be using whatever tools are the best for the outcomes he desires. Knowing someone is not only beneficial for the one who is known but powerful for he who knows them.
It made me think about my relationship with my parents which even when it's good it's bumpy. Keeping the peace was a big thing in our house and even when you were right you were wrong as long as it meant not rocking the boat. I generally went along with it while I internally counted the down the days until graduation and escape. I rarely actually got into trouble although I was punished pretty regularly and I was known by my brothers and in school as a goody two shoes. Funnily enough my parents remember me very differently, they swear I was the most difficult child to raise of the 4 of us. They insist I was constantly raising hell even though they can't actually remember any actual events and the stuff they do remember is pretty tame on the teen o' meter, lol.
This brings me to thoughts of being seen. That was something I craved growing up, to truly be seen and known. I rebelled internally from the oft spoke notion that my dad "knew" what I was thinking better than I did because he had once been a child/teen. He claimed omniscience which drove me up a wall, to this day I get my back up when people say they know what I am thinking because unless I have told them, no they don't. And sometimes even if I have told them they still don't because I am not always able to fully express the subtleties and nuances of my thoughts and feelings. On the other hand I love the way Das sees me, he gets me. He spends so much time talking to me, observing me, listening to me. When he says he knows me he's earned that right, he's put in the work and continues to do so daily. When I change even in small ways he often picks up on it and points it out before I have made it transparent to myself. Does that mean he knows me better than I know myself, not precisely, what he has is the privileged position of observing me and being close but not encumbered by whatever messiness is in my head telling me the stories about myself. He has a clear view so that while I will eventually take my mental machete and clear a path he is hovering above and seeing where it needs to be cleared and where the destination is.
As a person, as a woman being seen and known is vital to me. As a slave it's vital to our dynamic. How could he master that which he doesn't know? Knowing who I am has enabled him to shape me into who he wants me to be using whatever tools are the best for the outcomes he desires. Knowing someone is not only beneficial for the one who is known but powerful for he who knows them.
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