It’s been some weeks now since I came to think about armature for the first time. Lord Shiva suggested I should go in for it, but I did not take it very serious as it seemed odd to me. The only “armature” I possess are probably kitchen knives LOL But for Lord Shiva with His trident it appeared to make sense. I myself am not really able to relate to the trident as I tend to view it as an attribute of Poseidon or the Christian-Jewish Devil although many other Gods use to have one, too. I know it sounds profane but a trident also reminds me of a tooth-pick, I’m sorry, and I fail in viewing a tooth-pick as a weapon.

I have never seen myself as a warrior or a dangerous man. I have always been passive and tried to avoid conflicts (let alone the poor attempts to fight or defend myself against others) which might explain why I like to watch superhero movies such as Batman, Superman, Spider Man and so on. I adore stable, strong and somewhat dangerous men as they embody what I never was and obviously never will be and feel very attracted to them. And I sure like uniforms, suits and other clothes that imply that the man wearing them is an Alpha.

When I was in residential therapy back in 1998 they suggested I should learn any type of self-defense or even Karate or whatever to build up self-confidence and the ability to fight. I would not. Friends of mine suggested I should always take a knife or at least pepperspray with me to feel safer. I still would not. As it turned out, I refused to do these things because I thought it was awkward to do so for a person like me, like trying to appear more threatening then I ever was. Predators always seem to know who is a profitable victim and who is not. Unfortunately I am.

So when Lord Shiva suggested I should think about armature, I shunt it, but He was persistant and sent me dreams of wars, fights, guns, bombs and armature. These dreams never turned out very drastic or frightening and I did not get injured, but it got clear that He was serious about it. Sigh. Ok, talking about armature. I only have these kitchen knives and for peeling potatoes I even use a peeler even kids could work with. Not a weapon at all, hu? And I myself am not a weapon. I am the guy picking up spiders and releasing them instead of killing them. I am REALLY not dangerous. But again, Lord Shiva kept asking and so there popped up a memory, obviously because of some games with cling foil and plastic bags John and I recently played. There was a guy in school, two years ahead of me. He was one of those predators. One day he and two of his friends ambushed me and he sat down on my chest, suffocating me. I was in panic and dissociated, but as the “I” seemed to step back, there was something else that took over. Something really strong and dangerous, in some way. I could beat him off and he stopped suffocating me. Well, I could not escape them and they had their fun, but at least I had been able to do something. A little bit. When I remembered that, I also remembered some similar situations. Voilà.

So, my conclusion is that deep inside of me, in the realm of the unconscious, there is something that in certain situations takes over and helps me out of critical situations. But as I never nursed this something, it probably is not very advanced and I can’t connect to it willingly. John suggested this might just be the innate will to survive which mobilises powers one does not have in everyday life. I don’t know. And I don’t feel dangerous or armed , but I have a starting point now.

And one other thing: I knew already that the larger part of my sexual desires are deeply connected to what my father did and that I undergo what he did again and again when having or thinking about sex. But it is new to me that I as a superhero can change my perception of certain objects. I have always liked to be put in handcuffs, especially those with sharp edges which would leave marks around the ankles and everytime I saw those marks it was like punishing me for what my father did and punishing me for the lust I experienced. The more it hurts, the better. I now begin to understand that I can not only accept this connection between the abuse and my own sexuality as weird and insane part of my life, but nourish my own sexuality and my preferences by just focussing on them without always trying to tell myself that I’m a perv and that everything I am and like was built up by my father. It seems to me I’d still give him way too much power over me by maintaining the convinction that I am just his “product”. What he did changed everything, but still I am a self-contained person. Hell, and I really like those handcuffs 😉


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