Service?

The other night, Mistress granted me the privilege of going to a workshop about service. It really was a privilege,  since she let me go away rather late in the evening while she stayed at home working and being responsible adult at home while the kid was sleeping. Actually, I had to ditch her before the kid was sleeping, leaving her to do the whole bedtime ritual all by herself, while I gallivanted away in the car.

I was actually a bit nervous, since I had to drive 60 miles to get there and more importantly home again late at night. I recruited my friend I. and sneakily convinced her that even though it was very good and noble of her to stay at home studying for exams, it was a much better idea to go to BDSM-workshops with me.

And it really was (at least for me, but then again, I didn't have any exam-studying-plans). I'm never really been comfortable with the concept of "service", which is one reason I wanted to go, and I actually did come home with a few thoughts in my head that I didn't have before. I think I broadened the concept a lot.

When I've read others referring to service, I've always read it in the context of doing things above and beyond the usual. It's about keeping an extra eye on things, about doing things extra good, or in a special way. The "clean a toilet with a toothbrush"-example did occur yesterday too.

And... no. There's simply no room for that in our life. We're both working full tilt as it is, there's nothing more to give. I could "service" her right now of course, I'm sitting her writing a blog while she's paying bills, and I could be up vacuuming instead. Or I don't know... sort her sock drawer?

But I don't do that. Because there's no end to it. There's no point where the work ends. There's no point where I can sit down and relax and say that "yeah, now I've done enough! Now she'll be pleased with me!". She's pleased with me a lot of times for all kinds of reasons. But if I tried to outwork the workload and do above and beyond what she could wish for, I would break.

In fact, I did break. I broke down completely, that was kind of the deal with last year. I tried my absolute hardest to be the best mom, the best wife, the best student, and I didn't give my self any slack and I was constantly on my own case about not being good enough, and I tried and tried and tried, and the more I tried and the more I failed and the more I berated myself the more desperate I became and the less resources I had left to do anything with. And I didn't stop doing it that way until I was in so bad a shape that I couldn't lift a fork and eat lunch because I couldn't decide how to cut a sausage.

But the workshop yesterday gave me more faith in the belief that I do service Mistress. I do. Just not in the more common houseworky sort of way.

I'm devoted to her. I'm absolutely loyal to her. I'm completely invested in our relationship. She's the top of my priorities, if I have any alternative I always choose the one I think that she'd prefer. She's the centre of my life. I always want to be of service to her.

Sometimes she uses me in an outright manner, she exercises her authority and tells me to do things. I love that, that's easy. I love getting her tea or her slippers or go get the laundry. Sometimes my appallingly bad working memory fails me and I have to do a few false starts before I get it right, but that doesn't mean I don't want to do it. She doesn't do this all that often, honestly I think it doesn't occur to her mostly, but when she does I like it.

But there's also more subtle ways that I relate to her that might be called service, in a very broad definition of the term. I service her, one could say, by letting her control me. By gracefully and without a fuss constantly report my whereabouts and plans and actions and travels to her, so that she'll always know where to find me. By never making definite plans with anyone without checking in with her first. By presenting things to her in a manner that makes it clear that the decision is up to her, that I'm merely presenting alternatives.

By now, all those things are second nature to me - but seeing them in the light of "service" made me feel a little better about myself. After all, I could act in other ways. Those other ways would have consequences, bad once, but that doesn't mean I can't give myself credit for making wise decisions and behaving well. 

An even more convoluted way of looking at it is the things I don't do, and where the refraining in itself can be considered service, as sorts. I try very hard not to lash out at her when I'm upset. Sometimes I  fail, but nowadays I often succeed. Not because she'll punish me otherwise, but because I hurt and upset her, and I contribute much more to our relationship if I keep calm and, in all honesty, shut up.

I also refrain from second guessing her, barging in when she gives signs of insecurity and doubt, or trying to "help out" if I think she can't handle something. Again, not always, but most of the time, I succeed. Oddly enough, a lot of my "service" consists of not doing things. First, do no harm.


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And then I had to go to bed. This continues therefore the day after.

Today, I had very clear orders to fix a few errands at the pharmacy and the bank, leave and pick up little S, and have lunch, and nothing else. When I asked, she agreed to me studying for no more than an hour. And when she left in the morning, she agreed in letting me clear the dishes after breakfast, since she was in a hurry. So today, I'm obeying her and servicing her by reading a new Kelley Armstrong-novel on the iPad, and drinking tea in front of the telly. The doing as she tells me to part is obedience. The doing it with grace and without fuss is service. In a way.