Noting that anecdotes are worthless with respect to drawing conclusions, I want to share an experience that, for me at least, sheds the light on “why?”

My kink was an attempt to relive childhood trauma from a position of control. That doesn’t mean it was unhealthy or bad. It means that I was working on something.

I had two kinky drives that were related to two separate childhood experiences.

I say “had” because since I’ve worked through and successfully identified, acknowledged, made meaning of, and moved past my trauma, I find myself no longer drawn to the kink.

With the first and most dramatic kink, I made the connection between processing the trauma and the kink’s disappearance after the fact. I worked through my shit and one day it was gone.

The second I saw coming after my experience with the first.

I want to reiterate that I don’t believe kink is necessarily dysfunctional or bad. In fact, if it is a way for people to mitigate the damage from traumatic experiences, either subconsciously or consciously, that sounds like a win to me.

But had you suggested five years ago that my kink was related to trauma, I would’ve been offended and told you to go fuck yourself — that it was just a part of who I am.

My defensiveness and anger would’ve been a sign that you were right.

Something to consider.

Mama, writer, lover, fighter — I wear my heart on my sleeve because my pants pockets are too small.

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