The Problem with Being Emotionally Open

With one person, and one person only, I wear my emotions on my sleeve. Only he sees all of me. The good, the bad, the ugly tears and snot-faced crying.

John Brownstone is a freaking saint at times.

Big Girl Kayla

I’m a Scorpio and an introvert and I fall into every stereotype of both. I’m intense and brooding with an amazing resting bitch face. I live in my head. I read people and situations, and my instincts for both are often spot-on. I show the world at large only what I want them to see. I keep information to myself until I have no choice or an overwhelming desire to share. I don’t confide easily but I am often confided in. People trust me and understand that I am trustworthy, but I trust very few people.

On the other hand, in certain circumstances, when I’m comfortable, I’m wide open and often smiling or laughing. I may allow anger or sadness to show, but only briefly. I contain my negative emotions whenever possible. I’d prefer to be in the center of friends, laughing and talking. It’s another persona I wear, but at least I enjoy it.

As a professional, I learned how to fake enthusiasm and being sociable. It was part of my job, and I was paid to do it. That meant I had to excel at it. I had to hug and be hugged. I had to smile and encourage others to do so. I had to mix and mingle and bring people into the fun. Gawd, that shit was exhausting – but I was good at it.

Submissive Kayla

Only Daddy sees me at my most submissive. Even our lifestyle friends see the happy, smiling version of my submissive self. I may get quiet or get lost in my head, but when I snap out of it, I’m smiling and joking. I’m sweet and proper. I’m whatever I’m expected to be that makes my Daddy look good.

But there is an emotional side to my submissive nature. I am moody – not necessarily good or bad, just up and down. I want only to please and so I use my innate people-reading skills to anticipate his needs, wants, and desires. His mood can determine my mood. Our moods can feed each other (good and bad).

Often, my emotional openness is a good thing. We connect on a deeper level. My happiness bubbles to the surface and there is a lot of joking, teasing, and laughing in our home. I am his “good girl.”

The Drop

Then there are those rare times when my emotional openness is too much. When I finished my website redesign, I was excited and drained. All of my mental energy had gone into getting the job done. My emotions were all over the place, but the thing that bothered me was that I couldn’t share my success with anyone in real life. Daddy was at work. My family has no clue what I do. My blogging and social friends were off living, ya know, real lives. It was the most anticlimactic moment I’ve had in a while.

When Daddy came home from work, I needed atta-girls and kudos. I needed a virtual ticker tape parade. I needed the feedback I always crave. He, on the other hand, was exhausted from a long day of work and not a lot of sleep. He (I learned later) had already planned a celebratory treat. But what he couldn’t give me was the emotional cheerleading I needed – not at that moment.

I lost every drop of energy I possessed. I collapsed in bed, sobbing. I could barely function. This is often a result of too many negative emotions hitting me at once.

Side note: my rational mind, even in the midst of all this emotional chaos, knows that there is no need for all the crying and sobbing. I tell myself to pull it together and suck it up. But the emotions, that deep well that I keep buried most of the time, spew forth like lava from a volcano, with the same destructive power.

Dinner was supposed to be a big spaghetti dinner. It was cereal instead. What I’d wanted to do was beg him to tell me what to do – make dinner, keep my chin up, calm down. But I couldn’t. Instead I wailed that I didn’t know what to do. (Not a proud moment in retrospect.) Cold cereal it was because neither of us thought I was capable of much more than that.

Too Many Emotions

After we ate our cold cereal, and I tried to send the boys upstairs for their shower, Daddy announced everyone needed to get shoes on. We were going somewhere. I was confused but ever hopeful. Were we going to get a special treat to celebrate my accomplishment? (Y’all, I am SUCH a babygirl, and yes, I crave treats for a job well done.) Yes, yes we were. Our favorite frozen yogurt place with unlimited toppings and crazy flavors. Yay!

I perked up a bit. I was exhausted from the earlier meltdown, but I felt better. Daddy hadn’t forgotten me. He’d planned it all along. I was too impatient and didn’t trust in him to know what I needed. (Another less-than-proud moment.)

Emotions were riding high later that night. Daddy and I wound up in some stupid argument over plans that weren’t happening for two weeks. He yelled (which is rare for him but something I’ve never handled well from anyone – babygirl or not). I shrank into myself and became quiet. It was bad.

The reason?

He’s very empathic with me. He feels what I feel – and my stress and tears had worn him down.

On the other hand, I am desperate to be a good girl so I try to anticipate – instead of waiting for clear instruction.

In the middle of a conversation, Daddy began to ask questions. Instead of simply answering them, I thought I knew what he wanted and became frustrated when his questions didn’t make sense, and he seemed impatient with my answers – which weren’t answers to his actual questions. It quickly escalated into a stupid argument. The moment he raised his voice, the reason for the fussing mattered little. All I knew was that he was yelling, and I hate yelling. It does something to me, and I stop functioning properly.

There was silence. There was slamming of doors. There was going through the motions but no joy.

That night, we apologized to one another and held each other. I cried until I was drained.

It wasn’t until the next night, a full 24 hours later, that we were able to discuss it like rational people. I apologized for not simply answering his questions and over-anticipating. He admitted that what I read as stress and frustration (from the conversation that preceded the argument) was really my own emotions from the evening being directed back at me.

I learned a few things from this ugly moment…

There’s such a thing as too much anticipating to the point you stop listening. As his submissive, that’s rarely going to end well. It’s better to wait patiently and let him ask for what he wants and needs.

I can be overly emotional and mis-read situations (even though my Scorpio side wants to scoff at the thought).

What I feel in the moment is not necessarily the reality of the situation, and I would be better off allowing my Daddy to lead me until the emotions swing to the positive side.

It’s not all fun and games. It’s not all kinky fuckery. And I am one emotional babygirl. Yet, through it all, he still loves me. Even though I don’t always make it easy.