-satisfaction brought it back. Or so the saying goes.
I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I know it’s nobody’s business but ours. Yet… I do kind of feel indebted to most of you. After years of friendship and support and encouragement and wisdom, I maybe do ‘owe’ something.
So. The abbreviated version, minus a lot of details because in the grand scheme of things, the details don’t matter (except to us). What we’re trying to fix is the pattern of the breakdown.
This seems to happen about once a year.
Something happens, something that is not triggered by or related to the interpersonal relationship that is me and him. Something off-topic to M/s or O/p.
Things get said that cause the truth of my powerlessness over all things important to me to slap me in the face.
I’m confronted with the very real possibility that I stand to lose those things. That no matter what I do, no matter how I do it, no matter how much I love it- I can lose it. His choice.
Him. His feelings. His thoughts. His whims. His temper. His expectations. His ideals. His wants. Him.
No. I PANIC.
It doesn’t matter if, just an hour prior, I was perfectly comfortable in my place as his. It doesn’t matter if, just 10 minutes prior, I was happily serving and sucking and fingering my collar with pride.
Panic takes over everything. Every thought. Every emotion. Everything.
I stop hearing.
He says X and in my head X means Y. He says no no no, X means X and nothing more than X, and I’m screaming that X means Y because Y is dependent on X.
Here’s the breakdown:
When I “hear” what he isn’t saying… when I fill in the blanks and end up at the conclusion that X means Y… the resulting outcome, to me, is that I can’t trust him. Because, obviously, he’s leading me toward Y. And Y is nowhere I can go.
If I can’t trust him, I have no business being his.
If I’m limiting where I’m willing to go with him, I have no business being his.
If I’m doubting him, I have no business being his.
On a good day, I happen to believe that he deserves ever so much better than me. On a bad day, I begin to think I’m doing him a favor, and serving him well, by just slinking off and “freeing” him of the obligation of ownership.
(And, securing my “right” to not have to accept Y. Oh indeed, I’m still self-serving in all of this.)
He reacts negatively to my thought process. Understandably. He corners me, hammers at me. Inadvertently, reinforcing my fears. I have no idea what it is he is waiting for or wanting to hear from me, but I’m desperate to be reassured that I can trust him to not lead me where I cannot go. Instead, his dominance threatened, his control wavers, and he does the opposite- pulling away and dropping me. Again, reinforcing my fear.
And so we separate. Not physically, not moving out (though we toss that threat around like confetti, hoping it’ll be the one uttered thing that causes the other to crack), but mentally and emotionally. Complete separation.
Over time, we make tentative steps back to each other. Life still has to be lived. Kids have to be raised, meals have to be eaten, jobs have to be gone to. Conversations start, falter, end. Start again.
We get lonely for each other. God, it’s so obvious. For all of the bravado and blustering on how we don’t need the other, we can’t go more than a few hours without seeking the other out. A word, a touch, a look, a smile.
Upon acceptance, and admittance, of that need for the other, we make a stab at vanilla. Because maybe it’s easy to blame everything on the power exchange, and the various pitfalls and trappings of that, and not have to look deep and fix what’s in ourselves.
Guess what? We can’t do vanilla. Do you know how many times we’ve tried?
Vanilla becomes this forced farce of a thing, where I automatically jump up to obey because that’s what feels natural and good and wonderful, and then stop myself, make myself sit, which feels awful and black and heavy.
Where he reaches for me, for a grope or a grab or a pinch and stops himself, pulls his hand back or turns a pinch into a pet. Turns a grab into a stroke. Turns an order into a politely worded request and… he just deflates.
And then we avoid each other all over again. Because vanilla? Is too much work.
Over and over again, we come back to this. To M/s or O/p or some power exchange dynamic. This is who we are. This is where we’re happiest.
Yet– Y is still there. X is still there. Fear is still there.
He’s not the bad guy. I’m not the bad guy.
We both have our demons. Unfortunately, these demons wreak havoc on us.
So. In the interest of only being able to change and fix myself, I’m working on my demons. I’m so done with almost throwing my life away over past hurts, incorrect thought patterns, twisted memories.
He, as omnipotent as I think him to be, can’t fix me. But I can. I will.
I don’t know the outcome. Yet. I’m not putting a label back on myself. Yet. I’m not positive that who I always thought I was is actually who I am to become.
There must be some reason why I have to shake it all off now and then. Maybe it means something wonderful that I keep coming back to it, like a moth to a flame. Or maybe it means something awful that I try and fly away at all.
I don’t know myself. But I’m going to discover me. This is never going to be something I feel trapped in. Neither of us want that. I like words like genuine and organic, natural and right. I aim to make sure I am all of those in this relationship of ours.