Realizations and Decisions

A three hour drive back home this afternoon, more time to think, but thankfully very few tears. I walked in the door and felt the pain and grief afresh. The last time I was home, I was still dealing with the immediate aftermath of my grief. Walking into my bedroom, I looked towards the corner I crouched in while we cried together for two hours over the phone, the wall I leaned against, the carpet I cried into when I could no longer hold myself up. I saw His t-shirt in the dirty laundry, the one I sleep in almost every night, and wondered if I would ever be strong enough to wear it again. And then I sat at my kitchen table to get my bearings again, because the drive home was productive for me, and that’s what I need to focus on right now – not the pain.

I made some decisions and came to a few realizations. The biggest realization is that no matter what I decided to do today, and no matter how hard I work at this, there will be days that are just plain hard. Some days I won’t want to try. Some days, I won’t be able to make myself care. But if I have more good days than bad days, then maybe I can do something positive.

I remembered part of our conversation – and it’s the part that fills me with the most hope. “If you find that you need a kick in the ass to get back on track, you let me know.” Maybe He’s not strong enough to completely extricate Himself, either. This wasn’t an easy decision for Him to make. I believe it hurt Him as much as it hurt me. I believe that He wants to get His life back in order, not just for His own peace of mind but so we can try again.

I realized I had missed the Lion He had been in the beginning. The man who had the freedom to talk to me nearly every night for more than an hour. The Sir who growled commands in my ear, causing me to beg and cry for permission to cum. The man who watched YouTube videos of Mozart and Bach with me because He loves music and wanted to share beauty with me. That man had been gone for a while, and I look forward to seeing Him again when He can return to me.

I decided that I want to be a better woman for Him when this is over than the woman I am now. There is nothing wrong with me except about ten million insecurities. But if He can spend this time getting Himself back in order and learning how to deal with the drama in His life, I can deal with some of my own issues.

I want Him to be proud of me. I want to be proud of myself (and yes, that’s probably the more important point). I want to be a better submissive because I have confidence in myself as a woman. I would rather Him have to rein me in than be forced to draw me out of my shell. He showed me that it was okay to wear my heart on my sleeve, and I see no reason to stop. I want to be less fearful. I want to be braver. I want that for me, and I want that for us.

I realized that I influenced Him as much as He influenced me. His influence was more noticeable but no less powerful. I remembered a conversation we had back in September after my last visit. He said His co-workers could tell a difference in Him. They didn’t understand it, but they liked it.

When He first started working there, He had been a happy guy, always cracking jokes, singing little songs, and doing anything He could to make people laugh (we’re both self-professed dorks and proud of it). Somewhere along the way, He gained the reputation of being more like Eeyore – never joking around, rarely smiling, and very gloomy (during the time His marriage was failing and His mother was dying). Until me. I helped Him get that part of Himself back. Being connected to me helped Him. I hope I never forget that.

Right this moment, it’s hard to imagine being sexual in any way – and I mean with myself because I’m certainly not interested in sex with anyone else but Him. I can’t imagine masturbating. I can’t imagine playing with my toys. I can’t imagine making myself cum or sleeping in puddles. The idea of it makes me very sad right now, but I will get back there. I will revel in my sexual side again. If I am only capable of kink and sex with Him, I’m not much good to Him. Yes, He will always be the Dom, but I need to know that side of myself enough to be able to contribute – if that makes any sense.

I will continue with my weight loss because I want to feel confident in my body. And when I see Him again, I want Him to know I did it for myself. The words “Good girl” from Him will be enough for me. Well, that and His hands all over my body.

You can’t decide to lose weight or change for anyone else. You have to do it for yourself. I’ve known that for years. He helped me get back down to pre-baby weight (pretty sad when the “baby” in question is over three years old). The last twenty pounds are my responsibility. I need to know that I can do it.

At the end of the day, this is my time to get my shit together as much as it’s His time to get His together. If, God forbid, we don’t get back together (the though makes me shake and cry…and I want to vomit), I’ll be better off because I can face the world with confidence. If I’m fortunate enough to have Him back in my life, I have that much more to offer Him. Instead of being a needy submissive who must have all her insecurities dealt with, I can be that woman who surrenders completely and knows true freedom in submission because I’m not holding myself back in any way.

I also realized that I won’t ever be completely satisfied in a vanilla relationship ever again. And I know that there are too many fakes out there, abusers posing as Doms. I know I hit the D/s lottery with my Lion, and if we never come back together, every man after Him will have to measure up to Him – and I know it will be a long time before I come across the man who does. Why wait for something that may never happen, when I can simply keep my chin up, my hopes up, and my eye on the goal – Him?

He’s who I want, I make no secret about it. In the end, if it’s not meant to be, I’ll grieve again. I’m grieving now, but at least in this moment, there’s hope. He calls me idealistic because I’m always so hopeful. Maybe so. But I’m not afraid to roll up my sleeves and work my ass off for the thing I hope for, too.