For four and a half years, I have struggled with D/s concepts. The nebulous life of being a stay-at-home mom removed many of my external limitations and rewards. I have sought guidance through "The Books" only to discard them as ill-fitting. I have had my stomach roll looking at contracts because of the chill-coldness of them. I have cried and screamed and begged for direction because I am lost with no path, and then I have gotten angry when I stumble on the uneven terrain of the path I've been offered.
There are some hard lessons to understand how important and deeply I held my submission. It isn't about the physical...the protocols to memorize or the endurance of a scene. The emotional pain of failing or disappointing can drop me faster than a heavy beating. The sharp spiral I could create for myself was often seated in the quest for perfection. The problem is that the perfection is in MY eyes, not his.
My need to get beyond this grows to an almost undeniable roar...I want to be the me you say you see...I want to know she is me. ~The1muse
Perhaps the greatest service Beloved does for me is to tell me to STOP. It isn't about the dust bunnies behind the couch or the marker on the wall or how well (or poorly) I remember protocols...it is about him and me. He loves me, not what I do.
He has dragged me to bed, cuffed my ankle, and then taken the children out so I could...would...rest. He has waded into my emotional whirlpools and pulled me out. Just last week, when I was despairing over being long-passed trespasses, he had tears of frustration and love in his eyes when he told me, "It isn't your right to forgive. I was the one who was betrayed, and I have the right to forgive you. STOP denying my right to forgive you. Stop denying all the people who love you. Let it go."
Even now, I sit stunned at his words. He has asked that I surrender my faults, my flaws, my insecurities so I may be absolved. I don't know that I quite understood how tightly and fiercely I have nursed my own label as a failure.
This is no game we play; this isn't about the toys or the protocols or the little kinks that we enjoy from time to time in the bedroom. This is the real thing.
I'm scared. Who am I if I let it go? What will happen if I truly am happy? Can I give up feeling unworthy and surrender that much? Am I willing to be worthy?
