Good evening friends,
I found myself reading my good friend Penny Berry’s second post in our series and I found myself feeling a very bizarre, powerful feeling. I read the way her husband asks about her thoughts and the way she doesn’t interrupt him when he was speaking.
It wasn’t shock that I felt,and it wasn’t disgust, it was.. what was it?
Disbelief? Disgust? Maybe, but at myself.
Holy cow, I could never do that.
I was good, but not that good. I was obedient, but not that obedient. I was always work, always challenging, always spirited, and he likes that about me, apparently.
There was a pang and a wash of sadness,
I could never be a good submissive.
I could be a submissive, just about, but never a good one. I’d only ever really met one Dom who could leave me stuck for words, and he’s not Wolfie. Wolfie is close, but can I still find a loophole or three.
Today has been a bad day. Last night was a bad night, in fact, with Wolfie having a cold and not wanting to cuddle me in case I got sick. I couldn’t settle. I always slept on his shoulder. In the end, I insisted that I didn’t care if I got sick, I just wanted to cuddle with him. It was gone 3am before I was eventually able to get some sleep.
Today, my mother called me at about 1:30pm to invite me to go dog walking.
“I can’t this afternoon, I’m really busy” I said, somewhat resigned. Even if nothing else, I already had a plan for today and I was only halfway through the second chapter of my series with Penny.
“Has he been out yet today?” she pushed.
“I was going to take him out in the garden with a ball later” I sighed. Well, I was. It wasn’t much, but it was exercise.
“Aww, that’s not a walk”. Enough of the guilt trip!
Lately, I’ve felt that in a lot of what I do, it’s never been good enough. My follower counts and views have gone up and up and many people very clearly love what I write and do, but at home, whatever I seem to do seems to be not enough, or never the right thing. There is always something else that I should have done or should be doing. Usually my Mum, but there have been one or two others who have also gotten to me.
After a bathroom trip this afternoon, I emerged through the door and was greeted by the sight of the dog’s lead hanging. Immediately, my brain tripped to the one key focus of the object – hanging.
I don’t need to explain where my thoughts went, but it definitely shocked and scared me. I’ve since folded the leads up and put them atop the hooks. The less hang-y they are, the less of those thoughts I’m likely to have.
“Just move them if they’re causing you those kinds of thoughts, love” Wolfie said. I didn’t need telling twice.
As a deep thinker, one of my biggest weaknesses is feelings of insecurity. Wolfie knows when I’m having funky thoughts, I go quiet and distant, I stop messing about and pulling pranks. I huddle my arms across my chest and pull my sleeves down over my hands and bury my face so nobody can see if the tears fall. That’s me, that’s ‘I’m worrying about something’ me.
“I’m fine” I’ll insist meekly.
I’ll get ‘the look’. Not the Dom stare, but the “don’t try that shit on me” look. Walking away doesn’t work, nor does a game of If I Can’t See You, You’re Not Really Here. Silence doesn’t work, and nor does trying to change the topic. I get one choice and one choice only if I’m troubled: Co-operation.
In an odd way, I was able to soothe myself by remembering what he’d say,
“You’re not a submissive, you’re my submissive. You’re my Little Shit, my kitten. You’re a brat, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
That was my Wolfie, he always talks so much sense into me.
The big glubby tears did fall, but then, perhaps they needed to because perhaps, in an odd way, I really needed to remind myself of exactly of who and what I am. I needed to remind myself of exactly what he wanted, and who I needed to be.
Sometimes it seems, the absolute worst thing that we can do to ourselves is compare ourselves to anyone else.