Recent months have been difficult and I’ve been pushing through issues related to my family’s conservative values and Catholic religious beliefs with how those things inhibit my relating to them. As the Trump presidency played out, I became more radicalized in my own belief and less willing to let my parents and siblings off the hook for supporting those who would, ultimately, dismantle my life as an openly gay man. Yet, I have not confronted them, still avoiding the conflict I’d rather not fight. An aspect of my relationship with my father, specifically, came up quite suddenly in therapy — as breakthroughs are wont to do — and I’ve been absorbing the new reality slowly.

Threat Conditions

My father travelled for work, meaning he was not present as a daily presence during the weekdays. He would return home on Friday, spend the weekend, then head out again on Monday. My father often felt exhausted by this schedule and with his exhaustion came his temper. What I remember most about the person my father was during my childhood and adolescence was his brooding, negative spiral of frustration, anger, and dissatisfaction.

My father assumed that his “duty as a man” involved incessant yard work and, as his only son, my mother forced me to assist him in this work. My father didn’t want my help, but, I guess, felt it necessary to accept it. We were all playing out some masculinity roles dictated by an earlier generation in a culture different than our own.

As a typical Saturday progressed, the heat of the day would drain his energy, and he would begin his negativity spiral. His dislike of me helping him — or his general dislike of me at all — became more and more apparent. He became less patient until eventually he would rage. His rages were uncommunicative and violent. While he never hit me or threatened to hit me directly, he would take his anger out on objects, machinery, etc. When you think of this, think of: throwing tools, beating lawn mower engines with tools, throwing running chainsaws, and opening our metal outdoor shed with a  hatchet because the lock had rusted.

While he never hit me, he created an environment of threat in which I was trapped. As a kid, I had no idea if he’d be pushed by frustration far enough to attack me. I had no idea if a wrench would be thrown at my face. I had no idea if I needed to duck a running chainsaw pitched against a wall in frustration. In this environment, I became powerless because he couldn’t be reasoned with or consoled, could not be cajoled into even taking a break. And my family required I be there.

Power Dynamics

Of course, I have known all about this situation for decades. The events that happened, how they happened, and my reaction to them were well known and consciously acknowledge. The breakthrough came when my therapist said something along the lines of: “So you had to be submissive to him in that environment to protect yourself.”

Using the word “submissive” blew my brain away.

I’m a BDSM practitioner and have been for decades. Throughout that time, I have bounced between defining myself as a “submissive/slave” to “verse” because, while I sought desperately to become someone’s slave and to serve others in humility, I often couldn’t fulfill the role because my personal power level balked at it.

It’s difficult to define “personal power level” in this context; sometimes I’m not sure to what I’m referring. Is it a behavior, a stance, an emotion, a method of interacting with others? All I can say is that I’m a very direct and forthright person. I know what I like and what I want, and I go for it. As time went on, I generally had more BDSM experience than most of the men to whom I would attempt to submit. Beyond that, I tended to act as the social hub of my friend group, as if they recognized me as a leader and organized around me.

Mind you, I didn’t want this power or this responsibility. I did not pick it up and having it thrust upon me only drove me farther into BDSM and made me more desperate to be someone’s slave. In those few interviews I received with Masters, I was told point blank: “I don’t smell submissive on you at all.” Or worse, we would make some attempts to enslave me and it would fall apart for various reasons related to power dynamics.

At each failure, I would bounce out of wanting to be someone’s slave and throw myself in the other direction, but landing in the middle as “versatile” or “switch,” rather than Dom or Master. That was a role I would shy away from without understanding why. What my conscious and subconscious came up with for why not was that I didn’t want to “become my father.”

My father reigned as the undisputed center of the house. Maybe it was partly reinforced by the conservative social and religious culture in which I grew up, but I think it had more to do with the threat conditions. We all were traumatized to some degree over his brooding anger and frustration. We all did whatever we felt possible to forestall a negativity spiral. When they happened, we spent a lot of effort trying to mitigate or control them. When that proved impossible, we submitted to him and stayed out of his way.

My father’s personal power was evident and extreme. I recognized a long time ago that I had inherited it, complete with the excessive anger and the violence against objects. To say that inheritance of this power became a source of life long shame understates it.

I consciously avoided my own power. Made decisions in friendships, careers, dating, and BDSM relationships that undercut my assuming control of my power. It felt like a looming threat, all in itself, that I might one day descend into my father’s role of house-dominating asshole.

Yet, none of this came into final conscious clarity until my therapist used the word “submission” in our last session.

Clarity

My father created a hostile, violent environment on a semi-weekly basis in which I had to live. As anger increased, as tools were thrown, I modelled submissive behavior to avoid the danger. Whether there was a literal threat there or not, my childhood self perceived it; it was real.

Later, as I grew into an adolescent, and my own personal power began developing, I associated this intrinsic part of myself with the toxicity of my father’s behavior, so that I myself became labelled as toxic. This brought self-hate to a new levels.

To mention, as I grew into adolescence, I also became aware of my growing gayness, which strafed against my Catholic upbringing and the culture my parents actively thrust me into as an altar boy and with catechism. Suffice to say the details of that belong in another post, but it represented another vector of self-hate being poured into my consciousness and subconsciousness.

I learned to be submissive and to undercut my personal power. And I did so, ad nauseum, throughout my life. I tried to be a good BDSM submissive and largely failed. I tried to avoid my personal power becoming a problem, and failed. In this failure, I learned.

Over time, I drifted into Theistic Luciferianism were the acquiring and enhancing of personal power are primary goals. So, this clarity that’s come feels like a result of both therapy and my growing devotion to my LHP practices. In fact, I am in the process of rededicating myself to Marbas and levelling up to become his Magister, whatever that actually entails. As soon as I asked for Marbas for help becoming his Magister, I have this clarifying moment and understand my personal power in a way I never have before.

To wit…I am not my father. I am not steeped in the culture in which my father is trapped. My personal power is not his personal power and I have learned to control my anger tendencies and my behavior while angry. To deny the magnitude of my personal power is a grave disservice to myself and my development. I have to explore my personal power and expand it where necessary to achieve my spiritual and temporal goals.

I have been guided by my Patron to do so and been given the gift of this revelation, so I need to make the most of it.

Daddy Issues

I believe that the bond men form in power exchange relationships is a sacred thing. I have explored this bond, but never full initiated it. I believe it is real and beautiful.

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While my specific desires regarding becoming a sub or slave to a man might’ve been born out of an outsized reaction to physical threats by a primary male authority figure, I am NOT asserting that all submissive are acting out their “daddy issues” by desiring to submit.

Far from it. As a Luciferian, I believe in the value of the uniqueness of every individual. I believe that everyone has their own reasons for being whom they are and that these differences among us are the point of the Universe. As Vulcan put it: “infinite diversity in infinite combinations.”

I mean this post only to describe my own sacred diversity in the hopes that others might find value in it, which is another core ethos I espouse. I do not mean to imply my experience is, in any way, universal to other subs or slaves.

Will I still submit to another man? Absolutely! It’s a great time and, done right, a meaningful exchange of vital power between adult men. But, will I seek to become enslaved? Unlikely. I no longer see that on my path.