BDSM Lifestyle Submission

At first in my journey into the BDSM lifestyle, I did not consider myself a submissive. I liked submission in the bedroom; but outside of sex, I think I subconsciously viewed it as “weak.” Being a feminist, I struggled with being submissive to a man. For other women, it was fine, as long as it was of their choosing. But it was not for me. It was not until my fiance came along, did I change my mind. Also, it was not until after quite some time of being together did I realize that I wanted to be submissive to him outside of the bedroom. This is a huge change for me and signifies a lot of growth in the BDSM lifestyle for me. To some, perhaps submission comes easily and naturally; but for me, I had to develop a deep relationship with him before I could even consider submission outside of the bedroom.

I consider service to be a big part of my submission to him. I feel like it is my duty to keep the house clean, do our laundry, and have dinner ready by 6pm every weeknight (He likes to cook, so he is excited to cook for me on the weekends). I feel satisfied when Sir comes home and everything is in order and he compliments me. Especially when he tells me I am a good girl! I can be teasingly “bratty” in a fun way every now and then, but mostly I want to be a good girl.

Outside of service to Sir and submission in the bedroom, I am becoming more open to his influence. Sir tells me what he thinks about decisions that involve me, but most of the time gives me the choice of what to do. More and more, I feel compelled to follow his advice; however, he does not force me to do anything. I willingly give him my submission. This makes me feel lighter and happier, especially because I know it pleases him. And to see him happy and stress-free makes me happy and stress-free. Of course, we have a few rules that I am to follow and I do. Sir does not believe in tons of rules in a Dom/sub relationship (nor does he in polyamorous relationships, but that is another writing).

I feel like my submission is a giving of myself over to him, and that makes me feel closer and more connected to him than I have felt to anyone. But it is only him that I feel I could be this way with; he has earned my submission, truly. And for that I feel grateful. Because to change and grow and challenge yourself in this lifestyle is what makes it important.

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I smoke cigarettes & I don’t eat & I lament.

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I smoke cigarettes and I don’t eat and I lament.  I started smoking again because in a strange way it is something I can control, a decision I made, in a life that feels out of control.  It is the last night before my mother comes into town and my fiancé is not home, is late, from work.  For every sound of a car, the dog goes to the gate, expecting it to be him.

It is too hot to sit outside, but I sit outside anyway because I can smoke.

Today I told Fiancé I hated him-very politely-because he “likes” someone else.  (See previous post: “I lost a piece of him”).

He is the only person I know to take that in stride.

Today I thought about breaking up with him,

Today he got scared.  That I would leave him.

We talk and we talk and we talk and we come to no conclusions.  Neither side wants to give up anything, so we are at an impasse.

Therefore, I shove my feelings deep down inside and hope they will go away.

This creates a river of distance between us, with everything in between poisoned.

I read Lena Dunham’s book “Not That Kind of Girl” and feel that we have similar writing voice.  Or, maybe, I just hope we do.  I can relate to it because I have fucked a lot of guys I wish I hadn’t and because I have dated a lot of jerks.  This seems to be what the book is about so far, that, and being raped.  Which I don’t feel I can relate to, but I know that every other girl I know can.  Maybe I have just been too slutty in the past, I think.  I do like sex and lots of it, and also (In the past) with lots of people.  Now, however, I do not think I can even date someone else besides fiancé, even if he can.  I message the OKC guy I am talking to (the main one) and tell him “I am not built for poly, but would love to be friends.”  And that I am shutting down my profile for this reason, but give him my phone number in case he wants to contact me.  He doesn’t.  So far.  This is too bad, I think.  He was a nice guy.

Fiancé keeps bringing up Bladerunner (the original, as the sequel isn’t out until October), and the scene where Rachel makes a comment about someone (maybe Decker) having a picture of another woman hanging on the wall, “That’s not right,” she says, “She should be enough for him.”  Fiancé comments about how “dated” this ideology is and I partially agree with this.  I mean, I don’’t want to be someone’s whole world in which they have no one or nothing else, but I also think my love should be enough for him.  Poly theory has never spoken to me in the way it has to him, the idea that love is infinite and you shouldn’t just have to love one person romantically.  I disagree in the sense that something is lost, a specialness, when you romantically love more than one person.  Not that fiancé loves the other girl, but you get my point. 

I go to the psychiatrist and she seem to rely on my own self-knowledge, so I prescribe to up my Wellbutrin to 450 mg, which I think is the max dose. And to see her again in a month.  We were supposed to be lowering the meds today, as planned previously, in preparation for me to try to get pregnant.  But I do not have a job, or money, therefore, no trying to get pregnant yet.  The idea of having a child feels so far away from me, now.

Choosing The Life I Want

This is probably not good that I still relate to 20 something/millennial generation memoirs. 

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I am obsessed with 20-something year-old girl’s memoirs.  Molly Crabapple’s “Drawing blood,” (which I guess, technically, she is older now, but not in the book); Marina Keegan’s “The Opposite of Loneliness,” (she is dead, but died at 22);           Lena Dunham’s “Not that kind of girl,” (actually, I haven’t read that one yet, because an early chapter freaked me out a little, but I still plan to); Melissa Broder’s “So sad today” (Ok, I just started that one and i actually have no idea how old she is).

This is probably not good that I still relate to 20-something/millennial generation memoirs. 

And how did they get enough life experience to write a memoir, or “book of essays” (or whatever) anyway?  While I am here on my fourth blog entry at like 37 years old?  Surely my drug-fueled, loose life has been more interesting?

Further, my former grad school’s email service sent me an email today-“Hello and congratulations on the successful completion of your degree, and beginning the next chapter of your career!”  Thank you, MavMail, for mocking me and the fact that I have done very little with my women’s studies master degree in the last seven years.

Fiancé and I are re-watching (for me) and watching for the first time (for him) “Buffy the vampire slayer,” and have gotten to season 6, a stand-along episode in which Buffy thinks she is in a mental institution and is told she has been there for the last 6 years.  Her whole life has been a delusion, “no she is not a vampire slayer because that’s crazy.”  First of all, this really fucked with me. I mean, I didn’t really remember this episode, or apparently take it seriously previously; but, this makes me feel like well, is that it, this whole show has been a delusion?  I mean, really?!  The episode ends (and is seriously unclear about which world is the delusion) in which Buffy decides to live in the world in which she is the slayer, but I wonder if it is a little like my whole life.  Maybe this is all one delusion.  Maybe I am not really unemployed, not-really-using any degree; but then again, maybe I just need to choose to life the life I want.

The Universe Hates Me

I am still depressed for days at a time and I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Or rather, I know, but The Universe seems to be opposing me on this point. 6 months. 75 job applications. 4 interviews. 0 job offers. This is probably because I wasted my 20’s doing pot and cocaine, stripping, having mental breakdowns, working stupid jobs, going to jail, and volunteering like a good little feminist activist (which while is good experience, no one gives a shit about.)

 

I am almost forty (Ok, well almost 37, but that’s in the ballpark) and everything is pretty much the same as when I was 23. Minus the drugs, the living with my parents, or couch surfing.

I am still depressed for days at a time and I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Or rather, I know, but The Universe seems to be opposing me on this point. 6 months. 75 job applications. 4 interviews. 0 job offers. This is probably because I wasted my 20’s doing pot and cocaine, stripping, having mental breakdowns, working stupid jobs, going to jail, and volunteering like a good little feminist activist (which while is good experience, no one gives a shit about.)

My mother calls and I tell her I am depressed. She says “how can you be depressed when you are about to get married?” I tell her “ I don’t know,” and then, “well, I think it is the birth control and my hormones are out of wack.” This excuse makes me feel better. But she says, “Well if that is the case, you are going to have to stop taking the birth control, then you will get pregnant, which you can’t afford to do because you have no job and no money and you guys (me and the fiance) have to finish raising the kids you already have (his kids, which will be mine via marriage soon) and what are you going to do when he has to write a $10,000 check for college?

(Shit. This is actually how this went down.)

I feel a panic attack coming on. This is not helping. And she knows the only thing I want (by some strange miracle after years of saying this is the exact opposite of the thing I want) is to get pregnant. But apparently the universe thinks I do not deserve even one child because I am broke and have no job.

Anyway, I hang up on her.

She calls back.

She tells me I “should go back to therapy to figure out what my problem is” and I say “I Know what my problem is I do not have a job and so I am depressed.”

(Also, I was in therapy for 10 years previously, and while I am not saying it wasn’t helpful, I am just saying it seems dumb at this point.)

Mom is still not helpful.

What a surprise.

I hang up on her again. She doesn’t call back.

I text this guy I am talking to because I am in an open relationship, but I don’t really want to fuck anyone else besides my fiance, but I am bored and lonely and you can’t be on a dating website without the pretense of someone might get laid, so.

He says “Can you do something like yoga, or meditation, or pillow karate?”

I know these things could help (except maybe the pillow karate, because I am unsure of what that means) but I think to myself, I hate that hippy bullshit.

Instead I say something lame like “I am just going to focus on talking to positive people.”

He does not reply.

I go out and buy 2 cheap dresses at Ross, driving fast, and listening to loud, offensive music (or at least music that would be offensive to most old people, especially my soon-to-be mother in law, but that, my friends is another story).

I feel better for a time. Then I get home to an empty house, except for a dog who may hate me because I have not really walked him today, and I cry.

Then I listen to my voicemail and my dad seems like he actually has something to say to me, which is unusual, so I call him back and try to pretend like “Everything is ok.”

He goes on and on about working at the Veterans Association (Or whatever it is called, the VA) and how if I could get a job there I would make lots of money and “oh it is so easy, the social workers go around and ask “how are you today?” and fill out paperwork.”

Sure Dad. Ok.

Then I write this and try to think about how JK Rolling had a tough life, struggled with mental health and addiction, but look at her today!!! This gives some such hope (perhaps false hope).

I remember that people like these sort of stories and I can kinda write, so I should keep writing. I feel somewhat better and decide I will go out to my local dungeon tonight with my fiance and watch him spank someone else, because that is hot.