Guest Writer: Personal Origins of Kink

A friend of mine recently asked for my thoughts on his writing.  He wrote about his journey to resolve feelings about identifying kinky.  It’s a courageous piece of writing, and a reminder that we experience strong and weak moments believing in ourselves and our path.  My friend wrote to get his thoughts down and make sense out of his journey – an exercise many people find helpful.

Thank you for allowing me to post this Sean, and to the rest of the readers out there:  What is your story?  Have you struggled?  Has it been easy?  Are you you still figuring out what you want to acknowledge to yourself, to others, to your family?  Luck and love to us all, and good luck finding yourself out there…

To Breath and Being,
~ Karin


Photo by Daisy Romwall from Morro Bay, United States

Photo by Daisy Romwall from Morro Bay, United States

Coming to Terms with my Kink

by Sean M. Kennedy

My name is Sean and I am into BDSM. This has caused many interesting issues in my life. I never bring any of my partners around to meet my family. This has lead to my mother thinking I’m a closeted homosexual. She tells me at least once a year that, “it’s ok if you’re gay. I’m fine with it. I just want you to be happy and find someone.” I can’t tell her that none of the subs I’ve had were comfortable meeting my mother.

In fact, I have never had a traditional girlfriend. I have had one-time things, lovers, bondage partners and subs. I care about all of them, but I’ve always kept a certain amount of distance. I tend to keep people that I’m emotionally intimate with, separate from those I’m physically intimate with. I realize how unhealthy this for me and I know exactly why I do it. It comes from my sexual identity conflicting with my relationship with my father.

My father used to abuse my mother, mostly emotionally. She left him after he started physically abusing her. They divorced soon after. I can’t tell you exactly when they divorced, because I don’t remember much of my childhood. I blocked out large portions of my memories from before I was thirteen. Most of what I know of my childhood was pieced together from records, photos and relatives. From what I have learned, I’m happy not remembering.

As I got older, I realized that I got turned-on by controlling people and causing discomfort. I enjoyed studying people and learning how they worked. Boy Scouts taught me, among other things, that I like tying people up. I got a thrill from finding out I could get someone to submit to me. But the more my taste for bondage, domination and sadism grew, the more I hated myself.

I did not want to be an abuser. I had seen the aftermath from abuse many times, in both my life and of the people my mother met in support groups. The lasting pain and scars it left with people. I didn’t want to inflict that on anyone, but I know that I was capable of it. That knowledge filled me with anger, disgust and sadness. As a result, I spent most of my high school years frustrated, suicidal and alone.

My life didn’t get much better after high school. I moved to Canada for university and started binge drinking and fighting. After a year and a half, I had to move home for financial reasons. I moved in with my mother. The first day back, I spent three hours sitting in the shower reflecting on how shit my life was. I was broke, had no job, no degree, no car and no prospects. I spent a month in one of the worst depressions of my life. I thought about killing myself every day.

One day, I decided to sit down to do some serious thinking. I knew that I was unhappy, but not why. I realized that I was unhappy, because the person I was trying to be wasn’t me. I spent most of my life, until that point, trying to be the person I thought people wanted me to be. If I kept doing it, I was going to kill myself. So I decided, fuck it. If I’m going to rebuild my life, it might as well be the life I want.

The epiphany changed me and my life for the last seven years. I started exploring and trying new things. I would pick up the Phoenix and read it cover to cover, looking for things to do. I started researching BDSM and going to things like the Fetish Flea Market. I learned about aftercare and how to express my desires in a healthy way. I found partners online that had compatible kinks. I started to truly connect with people. I learned that you can be a kinkster without being an abuser.

I’m exponentially happier now, even with my mother assuming I’m gay. When her annual inquisition rolls around, I do reflect on what if I was gay. I would have some sex-ed talk about homosexuality. There was the Gay-Straight Alliance and LGBT support clubs in my high school. I know several openly gay people and I know my family doesn’t care. I wish I could have had that level of support growing up. It would have saved me a lot of time wasted hating myself.

I don’t regret my past, because it made me the man I am today and I’m fucking amazing.


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~Thank you.

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