Why had I worried? I knew my parents had striven to give me an independent, rational

Why had I worried? I knew my parents had striven to give me an independent, rational, feminist outlook. Self-esteem and integrity. I was so lucky, I understood as my father said nothing but, "All right.” It was a blinding realization: my father might have judged me with all the worst things I thought of myself -- but instead, he trusted me to do my best. When I called my mother (long separated from my dad), too many of my flatmates were around for a private conversation indoors. I banished myself into a warm summer storm, cradling my cell phone away from the rain. There was a pause after I said the fateful words -- then she said, "Have you talked to your father about this?” "Yes," I said hesitantly. "Why?" "Well, I think it was an issue in our marriage that I was more into that stuff than he was." Fat droplets soaked my hair. The tight knot in my chest -- familiar for nearly a year -- loosened as I caught my breath. I turned my face up to the sky and let the tilted world resettle around me; my mother's faraway voice helped me through a hundred things that had torn my heart. "You aren't giving up your liberation," she reminded me, and emphasized my continuing right to a partner who respects me. She even noted mildly that she'd "wondered" about me when I was a child. I'd feared that I was damaged, that there was something deeply broken in me. I'd wildly guessed that I'd suffered trauma and repressed the memories. But if my mother -- one of the most independent, feminist women I've ever met -- could reconcile BDSM, then I knew I could. And if she was into BDSM herself, then rather than viewing my proclivities as damage, I could see them as something intrinsic we shared. Over the next hour, my mother told me I could retain rationality, self-esteem and integrity. For the first time, I found myself believing it. My therapist laughed when I told him. "I swear," he cried, "it's genetic!" te Kk ok There was one loose end to a conclusion that felt like a fairy tale. Though we had some unfettered conversations, tension remained between me and Richard -- perhaps it even worsened. At one point, observing us, Andrew said mildly: "Settle down, you two." Worse, Andrew and I were going in different directions. I finally felt somewhat at peace with BDSM, but he couldn't gain that comfort, and started backing away from it. It was impossible not to think of Richard and shiver, remembering how uncompromisingly vicious he could be. When Andrew and I broke up over a year later, I knew: J shouldn't see Richard. My therapist warned me to be careful with BDSM when my heart was in pieces. Of course I wasn't. It was the first time I'd explicitly pursued Richard since he'd told me, so long ago, that he was busy. I emailed him straightforwardly, sat down on his bed shortly after Andrew and I broke up. When Richard set his fingernails into my skin, he murmured, "It's been a while,” as if he'd always known he'd see me here again. The tears came more quickly than they once had -- I'd fought them then, unwilling to break down in front of him. I'd HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018457