I dressed very nice today. My co-workers ooh’ed and ahhh’ed over me for a minute. I had that self-deprecating (read: typical female) thought of, “What the hell did I look like last week??” But I know that I took extra care with myself today. Hair, jewelry, dress, shoes – I felt sexy (not slutty, though – it’s an office environment after all).
I told myself that I needed to keep a positive outlook on life and the best way to do that is to dress like I care. Plus, hell, I had new shoes!
It helped. It really did. I walked around with confidence. I took myself to lunch because looking that good needed to be seen by someone other than my office-mate.
Hell, I even felt myself up in line at the bank. See?
That’s a damn sexy knee, right? The dress wasn’t really that short, but by the time I realized I was stroking my own skin, it was pushed up. Too much time in line at the bank, I guess.
But I should have known a tempest was brewing. Maybe it’s because I re-worked The Visitor last night as a possible short story – and I always considered it “our” story. Maybe this is just part of the emotional roller coaster I’m on, and it was time to come down from the positive emotions. Maybe, I’m two sides of a fucking coin just like the rest of the world. Maybe I’m just tired – who the hell knows?!
But by the end of the day, I felt like a sad little girl, and it’s just as true a picture as the sexy woman who woke up this morning. The moment I think I have this all under control and it’s getting easier, I’m proven wrong. And really, my sadness wasn’t just about him today. Yes, of course, some of it is heart break and grief, but the rest was loneliness. I’m just lonely. I’m a single mother with no real support system, no family close by, no close friends close by, and I have to do what the rest of the world has to do – survive each day, doing the best I can.
Sometimes I just want to lay down and cry. Sometimes I crave the idea of being taken care of. Sometimes I just want a shoulder to rest my head on and an arm to wrap around me – not to fix anything (that’s my job), just to make me feel a little less alone in this world. Other than love and Domination, that’s what he gave me. I knew I wasn’t alone. Even when we couldn’t be together, a single word from him, and I felt wrapped up in comfort. Now, I’m back to where I was before he came into my life – navigating it all on my own. That’s not a complaint or me bemoaning my life – it just is.
It’s been a jolt to the system. I didn’t know I needed what he provided until I had it. Before him, I thought my life was fine. I lived stubbornly in my routine, doing my own thing, pretending I was cared for by someone who walked out on me but didn’t have the courage to tell me, writing out my fantasies for my small piece of the WordPress world – I was fine.
Now, I’m adjusting back to who I was before, but with a slight twist. Knowing what I know now, I’ll never be satisfied with anything less again. How could I be? And, I’m now fully aware of my submissive side – I can certainly never be satisfied with plain vanilla again. It doesn’t fit who I am. Vanilla is my kink, D/s is who I am.
He always said I was a natural submissive. My eagerness to please, my fear of disappointing, the ease with which I ceded control – those things still live within me. I used to feel bad that with men I loved I never seemed to have my own opinion about certain things – where do you want to go tonight? What do you want to do? Tell me what you want sexually. My responses were always, “Whatever makes you happy.” I often wondered if I was a closet doormat or something. I understand myself much better. I now realize that was my submissive side trying to come out.
I also know that, like most submissive women, I don’t just bow down to any man. There are some men out there who have nothing but my derision. There are some who have my respect but don’t make me want to submit to them. I know I’m a strong woman – the circumstances in my life have forced me to be. I still feel very strange acknowledging that I have a little girl side who craves being spoiled and taken care of – who the hell is she??
So here I am, trying desperately to create something on the outside to help staunch the bleeding on the inside. It’s an adjustment, it’s a process. It sucks, but I will be just fine. I have to be, don’t I? The alternative is to sit around, cry and eat too much, neglect my children and my job, and let life stop in its tracks.
And if, as I truly believe, that there may be a chance for us once he survives the hell he’s in, what kind of woman would I be if I let myself wallow? The need to make him proud never goes away. The desire for him to think I’m a good girl never goes away. The love I feel never stops – I’m just tucking it into a corner of my heart for right now, keeping it safe for another time, so I can be the woman I need to be for everyone else in my life. I don’t have a lot of time to indulge my selfish little girl who just wants to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all.
The inside of me is a little messy right now, so I’m trying to take extra care with the outside. The phrase “Fake it til you make it” comes to mind a lot. That’s all I can do. One foot in front the other, doing my own thing, taking care of those I can, and loving the people who matter. Nothing wrong with looking damn sexy in the process, right?