Perspectives

I had a rough day yesterday.  I made some poor choices about caring for myself and my body.  Last night I was punished for those choices.  This morning I was… not punished really, because it wasn’t for something I did wrong, but… I was punished.  Because I can’t use better words than that because I am still embarassed by this aspect of my life and my relationship.  And isn’t that just sad?

This morning was worse than last light by magnitudes.  And last night was bad, I blew some things heartily yesterday.  But this morning was longer, and harder, and more painful… enough that I actually flinched every time I moved for about two hours, and now it’s died down to a low background pain but… it will remain in my awareness for days.  Bruises are developing.  It was… an intesne morning.

And Sir is a sadist.  But in that weird way that makes sense only to us who are built this way, he doesn’t actually enjoy real punishment with either me or sub-brother.  He sees it as just something that we do, but it isn’t exciting for him.  What he did this morning fell into that category, too.  But unlike S. who I was a sub to for five years, he also doesn’t make it a big deal, he never makes me feel guilty, or says anything like, “I hate doing this,” because… he doesn’t.  He doesn’t hate it.  It’s just something we do.  And I appreciate that.  And I appreciate that he doesn’t make it so complicated and emotionally entangled and guilt-ridden for me by telling me how terrible the experience is for him and how much he hates having to do it and why do I make him punish me?  Because that’s what I got from S.  And years later, I can now articulate what that did to me…

It destroyed me.  It destroyed my spirit, it destroyed my self-worth, it drove me deeper and deeper into depression until she literally complained about me being unhappy all the time… as if it was something I was choosing and not something that he been broken in me… BY HER BEHAVIORS.

We were not good for each other.  We damaged each other.  I’m sure she was as miserable with me as I was with her… at least… she made me believe it was true.  Which damaged me so much, and for so long, that I’m not sure I’ve ever totally recovered.

So I appreciate that Sir doesn’t do that.  I don’t think he feels that way, and he certainly never says it as some kind of twisted means of getting me to change my behavior…  It’s not something exciting but it’s not something he minds doing and I think that there is satisfaction for him… in living this type of relationship, as there is for me, even in the times when it is not specifically pleasurable.

So… then… after being sent back to bed for two hours, he came back and got me and took me into the shower.  He only does this occasionally, and he did today.  He got in the shower with me and washed me, washed my hair, dried me off, dried and combed my hair, did my makeup, dressed me… took complete control of everything from my hands.  Which can be difficult for me sometimes, but today I surrendered to it and could be at peace… mostly.

Then he was kneeling to put my socks and shoes on me and I said, “You don’t have to do this for me…”  Not in defiance, not in embarassment, more in sadness that I perceived he felt I was so broken that I needed him to spend this much time and attention on me today.

He looked at me and he said, “It’s not for you.”

That’s the last thing we’ve said to each other today.  Not because we’re fighting or anything, just… because… he’s downstairs now with sub brother and I came in here to write this before I forgot about my thoughts.

It’s lonely.

It’s lonely to live a life that is so incomprehensible to so many people.  That the deepest and most important aspects of my identity and relationship would be, I know, rejected and abhorred by so many people.

It’s lonely to have close friends who I feel I can’t ever tell this to.  Can’t ever reveal this side of my life.

It’s sad to realize that even with the friends I can share it, I am held back by my own fear, my own internalization of the shame that others would put on me for who I am.

I realized that even with my own partner, that shame keeps rising.  I keep apologizing for being who we both are.  I apologized to my own master for his choice to express his ownership today… because somehow I perceive that I can’t possibly be good enough for him to simply want to possess.

And how lonely is it to feel unaccepted, in your own heart.

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