See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me

The healing potential in feeling seen through kink and sexual submission

As I was flipping through a recent set of photos from a shibari rope suspension I became acutely aware of my rigger’s gaze and how it’s fixed on me the whole time. He looks at my body and how I move, back up to where I’m secured, and down at me again. Most of the time he looks at my face, and into my eyes whenever they’re not closed. This is how he reads me. Every motion he makes with the ropes is based on the interpretation of the signals he picks up, and, almost without fail, he responds to my needs without the exchange of a single word.

The two of us have a strong connection; one where language is superfluous and we seem to read each other’s minds via the fibers connecting us. This is apparent in the photos and looking at them after makes me more than a little sentimental.

He sees me. He really sees me!

I can barely describe how therapeutic that is. More than that, it’s a deeply healing experience for me.

Many get uncomfortable when you introduce words like healing and therapeutic, as well as spiritual, into the world of kink — or into sex for that matter. I was told, firmly, by the editor of a BDSM-related publication I write for, to steer clear of these words in my articles for them. While I wholeheartedly respect his wish to keep it factual — their brand’s focus is on issues related to the psychology and neuroscience behind kink, while avoiding anything that can be seen as esoteric — these concepts have become inseparable in my personal pursuits. “We don’t want to sound like we’re trying to be therapists or that BDSM or kink can be a cure for anything,” he told me.

Point taken and accepted. But, what if I said I’m 100% convinced that I’ve mended many of my own trauma wounds this way? In fact, I insist that the means I continue to pursue in the name of catharsis do more for me in way of healing than any conventionally accepted method out there.

The importance of being seen

Being seen is a lot besides being looked at. When we’re seen by another we’re acknowledged, validated, and accepted for who we are. It means that the person(s) we’re with cares enough to pay attention to us and our needs. Being seen animates us and fills us with energy and motivation. It makes us feel safe.

When we’re not seen, we experience the opposite; it shrinks us and leaves us feeling drained, unsafe, and even fearful. Feeling seen by others is, in fact, a basic human need; rooted in evolution, our survival depended on it:

If your tribe didn’t see you, there was a risk you’d be left behind when the nomadic life of early humans dictated they move and being alone equated to death. If other tribes didn’t see and respect you and your tribe, they were likely to invade your territory, take your resources, and leave you and your family to die.

In the ancient part of our brains, not being seen is equivalent to being sentenced to death. (Psychology Today)

I felt unseen for a long time

Being with a narcissist is often equated to looking into a reflection-less mirror: They don’t mirror you the way most healthy people do. Instead, you end up excessively mirroring them to compensate, as well as to gain their approval. This often results in feeling a loss of self.

When I came out of a decade-long relationship with an abusive narcissist four years ago, I was starving to be seen! Having lived in fear and uncertainty for so long, I struggled to trust anyone, let alone myself. The little voice we call intuition had gone silent and I was incapable of making decisions without questioning myself. I also had a hard time speaking my truth without filtering and second-guessing every word leaving my mouth. I doubted whether I was worthy of love and affection and had a distorted view of what relationships were supposed to be like. And boundaries? Forget about them all together—my own especially.

I could write books about the ways I felt unseen— I could tell you about all the fake orgasms I performed for his ego, further cheating myself out of pleasure, and how each rejection felt like stabs that had me raw and scared, yet pining to be felt, touched and comforted—but, let’s move to the revival:

I found comfort in kink

Something switched in me almost immediately after our separation. As if the previously barred up floodgates were burst open, life force returned to every cell in my body. Parallel, my intuition woke back up and started leaving all kinds of conspicuous signs on my path. It was these crumbs, or synchronicities, that guided me into the world of BDSM.

I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for or why I was there in the first place, only that it felt right. Long story short, I quickly met my first dominant partner who opened me up to sexual submission—another thing I’d never lived out but felt called to.

What makes a good dominant partner?

Before proceeding, I must underline the importance of finding the right partner(s) to practice with in order for the experiences to be healthful — as opposed to the other way around, which can be the case in the hands of the wrong person.

It’s a common misconception—as it was for me too—that a sexual dominant is some mean macho type ordering their submissive around on their knees; that the sub does all the hard work while the dom leans back and receives. While that scene could be one aspect of the story, it far from reflects the full picture. Most commonly, the dominant (or top) exerts an enormous amount of energy, both mentally and physically, into the relationship.

I’ve written in length about what makes a good top or dominant. First of all, it’s someone highly empathetic and caring; someone who makes the comfort and well-being of their partner(s) their highest priority. A top with sadistic leanings, for example, isn’t someone who thrives on inflicting pain for their own satisfaction alone. Instead, their reward is in causing physical and mental reactions that their bottoms thoroughly enjoy. No one, unless they’re a sociopath, wants to spank a person who derives no pleasure from such activity. Further, every good top I’ve met adjusts their way of playing based on the experience, desires, as well as current mood of their partners. The good ones prioritize safety, listen attentively and respond accordingly. In short, a good dominant is someone who makes their partner feel seen!

Based on this description, the puzzle pieces might start coming together to give an idea of how I sought this out as a way to circumvent past trauma.

Conscious reenactment and other antidotes

One part of my process, especially at the beginning of my exploration with pain and masochism, was to confront my past through conscious reenactment. In a past article about healing pain with pain, I write in-depth about how I mastered my trauma by actively repeating it.

In my previous relationship, I’d been living with an emotional sadist in a dynamic I never consented to. Now, I got to reclaim my story and flip it on its head by willingly submitting, on my own terms, and with the power to stop it at any time. Rather than feeling powerless, doing this made me feel undeniably strong, because this time, I was in charge; I was the director of my own reality.

I learned to communicate confidently | Of the most important things I learned was that playing with power exchange, whether it’s through bondage, discipline, dominance/submission, or sadomasochism, requires open, clear, and honest communication.

Through pre-scene negotiations, identifying my desires, and establishing boundaries with a partner, I found ways to trust myself again. Having my words be heard and my boundaries attended to reinstated in me the belief that speaking is safe and that I deserve respect; the opposite of what I’d come to believe through my past relationship.

I learned that it can be safe to trust others | BDSM is impossible without mutual trust since its practice is largely about pushing boundaries without crossing hard limits. When you place your wellbeing, and sometimes even your life, in the hands of your partner, you need to be damn sure that they have every intention of keeping you safe!

Emotional trauma is healed primarily through safe relationships. —Mastin Kipp

While I was scared at first, there was nothing I wanted more than the feeling that I could let go, knowing that I’d be caught. Daring to finally do so and having the experience of being delivered safely on the other side was like balsam for my soul.

I learned that my vulnerability is welcome | I’ve always been the strong one—in my family and in most of my relationships. Letting that mask fall doesn’t always come easy.

After being mocked and yelled at for crying, and having my vulnerability interpreted as weakness or even a threat, I experienced the opposite through sexual submission. Here, daring to be completely naked, physically and mentally, and letting someone take me to my limit to see me at my most vulnerable was interpreted as a gift.

Through all of this—daring to speak, trust and be vulnerable and to be accepted and validated for it—I felt seen!

When I’m suspended in ropes by my rigger as I described at the start, it’s not the ropes themselves that excite me, but the feeling of letting go and completely trusting another person, and through that, feeling seen. Therefore, when someone asks me what my kinks are, I don’t answer bondage or power-play. Neither are they exhibitionism, humiliation, or impact play. While I enjoy the above, they’re simply a few of many possible tools to bring me to catharsis.

The foundation of mental health is feeling safe in your body and feeling safe with others. — Mastin Kipp

To wrap it all up…

Kink and BDSM can certainly be great ways to spice up your sex life and add excitement, and it’s fine if it stops at that. But, in my experience, it can be so much more: It has helped me feel safe in my body, and with others.

As long as you take care and make sure you’re in the capable, caring hands, there are no right or wrong ways to do it, and no one kink is more appropriate than another. Whatever tools you fancy most, remember that they’re only that; tools with the potential to bring you to whatever else you crave.