Moving Beyond Conditioning

Kate’s a badass. 

In all I’ve written about my beautiful and amazing wife, I don’t think I’ve specifically mentioned this.  Long time readers I suspect kindof know this about her without it being clearly spelled out.  

She cracks me up. Mixed with her broader badassery is a sass, a moxie, a David in David vs. Goliath vibe that on the surface runs pretty contrary to her physical self.  She’s petite is our good buddy Kate, “fun sized”.  When she gets in a huff, she’ll “sass walk” a very intentional stride that in our old place sounded like a hippo walking down the hallway; how she doesn’t have knee and ankle issues is a wonder to me.  She’ll stare down a linebacker, and then be pulled around the yard by our 40lb crazed psycho dinosaur puppy, Billie.  

One of our longest term running jokes is that I’ve yet to find where she hides her balls.  Kate, all buck sixteen of her, has a pair of brass ones.  Big brass ones.  

Not too long ago we found ourselves in a social situation with her boyfriend, James.  He and his live in girlfriend were throwing an old school block party and we were invited.  Not our first social foray with James, and I suspect this wasn’t our last.  

Something I have spelled out pretty clearly a time or two is I’m on the introverted side.  I can do a decent to better than average job of pressing the flesh, being all social butterfly, but it takes effort and depletes my energy pretty quickly. One thing sure to deplete the tank is mandatory fun. The being put into a situation you’d rather not be in, and it happening in such a manner that there’s really no escape.  

This happened at the party.  I’ll spare the gory details, suffice to say, it was an energy zap.

Right in the middle of the zap, I looked over and saw James’ ex.  There’s a story about her and an ambush at a restaurant a few years ago that’s not going to be told here.  If we ever meet and have a coffee, I’ll share it. That situation brought out a trauma response and ended up starting a chain of events which led directly to me seeing and letting go of shit I’d carried around since the ‘80s. Kate was there at the restaurant and was also in no hurry to engage with her in a social situation.  

I was trapped.  There was a zero percent chance I’d embarrass Kate at her boyfriend’s house and cause a scene, my option was to cowboy up and get thru it. Kate had a different idea.  

She was well aware that I was running on fumes at this point, and starting to tap into that emergency reserve; this is where my stay sober headspace lives.  This is as vital a life support thing for me as breathing, and I guard it. I haven’t had to tap that thankfully, and didn’t that day, but it was getting there.  

Kate, remembering just as clearly as me the restaurant thing from a couple years ago, and seeing the situation develop and unfold around her, gave herself permission to get us the hell out of dodge.  “We’re going to do an Irish goodbye” she whispered to me as she broke ranks and walked the hell outta there.  She didn’t ask either me or James if it was ok; she didn’t worry about whether it would seem rude. She looked at the situation, and decided protecting us mattered more than social convention. She told me that me and our relationship was the most important thing. I fell in love with her again right there. 

I couldn’t have given Kate permission to do that, to make the decision to bail. She decided for herself when the conditions warranted bailing. When that threshold was tripped, she gave herself permission. 

***

So what in the wide wide world of sports is self permission? Well, it’s something along the lines of allowing yourself to think, feel, or do something that you’ve been holding back from because of fear, conditioning, guilt, or expectations.

From what I could see, this isn’t something that’s been talked about in an Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) context.  That surprised me. (If you know of something, please pass it along) Is this something that I’m putting words to? Is it meaningful?  Is it meaningless?  Is it the next big thing?  Probably somewhere in the middle. I don’t see there being “permission theory” to go along with “attachment theory”.  Given it seems to be a human behavior that’s observable, can we possibly get a grip on it and use it proactively? 

Giving yourself permission to do something is maybe a subtle thing at times, and in the context of say Kate and the Irish goodbye, its fraternal twin is making a decision, but I think there’s a difference.   

***

To my way of thinking, and I’m making this up as I type, a decision comes after you’ve weighed a couple courses of action for a period of time.  We decided that we were going to go to the BBQ joint instead of the Thai place for dinner. There’s no permission there I suppose, but there is a decision. Self permission on the other hand seems to me to have as much to do with getting past the self censorship that’s brought on by conditioning as anything else.  BBQ vs Thai isn’t something that society has beaten down our throats; avoiding creating a social scene is.  We decided to have BBQ, Kate gave herself permission for us to bail.

Also wrapped into self permission seems to be acceptance.  Acceptance can appear almost passive at times, I think because it’s a different function; acceptance does different things. Acceptance is when something is internalized, when you have an understanding at depth.  Permission opens the door, acceptance is on the other side.  Or is it the other way around?  IDK, again, it’s a subtle thing that seems much more clear to me the less I think about it, but I think it’s permission first.  

Same sort of thing when I got sober.  Before I could begin the process of getting sober, I had to give myself permission to walk into a meeting.  Believe me, that’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever done; walking in is huge. Recognizing I needed help was one thing, giving myself the permission to seek it another, internalizing and accepting who I am and the process required to change that is another thing again. 

I didn’t decide that I had cuck wiring, nor was it something that I chose. It was just there, waiting for something to trigger it.  When the conditions arrived, IE me seeing Kate have sex with another man, that’s when permission entered the equation.  I didn’t decide that seeing Kate with another man was the most erotic thing in the world, it was just there. I did have to give myself permission to run contrary to the mountains of conditioning which had been piled on since before I was born.

***

I know our posts usually start with an update on what’s happening in our world, turned out that “Kate’s a badass” was just too good a line not to start the post with.  

Life’s rolling along at Casa Da Sam and Kate, we’re surviving wildfire smoke in the midst of a heatwave. Made for a cool late afternoon sun yesterday.  Looked like we were on Tatoine, well, minus a sun.  

In theory we’re moving from three Chow Hound Cats to four Chow Hound Cats this weekend.  It’s out of our hands to an extent; number 4 is currently a stray at a co-worker of Kate’s farm.  We’ll see how that unfolds.  Other pet news includes a pair of birthdays.  Clifford The Wonder Dog turned 6 last week, which seemed impossible, and Billie The Wonder Puppy will become Billie The Wonder Dog in a few days.  

We’re doing a road trip next week, headed to western New York for a lifestyle thing and to see Niagara Falls with adult eyes.  We’d both been there, but it was a loooog time ago; I think in the ‘70s as a kid for me.  If you’re in the Buffalo area and have a great mom and pop restaurant suggestion, please drop us a comment or email; ditto if you want to try to coordinate grabbing a coffee.  

As always, thanks for reading!!  Be kind to yourself and others,

Sam & Kate