Vulnerable and submissive

I've been thinking about vulnerability lately. About me and the fact that I'm extremely vulnerable, and how I've worked my whole adult life towards letting go of the shame over that. And about how I need Mistress to function and feel safe.

I'm raised in a culture that promotes individualism and self-reliance. Being dependent is a bad thing, even in families or children towards adults. There's no room for weakness or being less than a productive, self-motivated, self-reliant adult. Everybody is not only equal in worth, but equal in responsibility and agency.

In a lot of ways, that's great. It's result of a society with a long democratic tradition, without war or slavery, where people of all classes can have an education, a vote, and a voice. A society which strives toward equality, both between the sexes and regarding class and heritage. Everybody is a free agent, everybody should be able to act in society on equal terms, and everybody is expected to do that.

Only, I don't want to.

And that's a problem for me. There's no safe guards for a person who tends to bend over backwards to please, who wants to be led, who wants to follow orders and let go of responsibility. There's no role in the society I live in where that's okay.

Except, of course, this one; property of my partner. Not that it's accepted in society at large, but at least I've got it. We can make our own world, here in our family, where me and Mistress knows I'm hers and nothing else. No one around us will confirm that, even know it exists, but we will, and that's enough.

Or, not no one - there are people out there who knows and accepts and confirm. We don't see them as much as we'd like, but they exist and that makes a big difference.

Still. Vulnerability. I've protected myself for as long as I can remember. Being inclined to obey every person with a certain aura, a certain way of speaking and acting, is dangerous. Both insofar that if that person isn't a very good one, you might get hurt. But also simply because it's embarassing. It's out of the norm. It's interpreted as weakness by others, and even ridiculed. So I don't do it.

I've avoided that kind of person the best I've could, or rather been circling around them, going away and coming back, going away and coming back. I've developed a whole host of deflecting strategies, quipping jokes and always having a snappy reply. Never give in, never lose face, never let anyone see your weakness.

Yeah. It's a bother.

And then Mistress came along, and I don't have to do it anymore. I can submit and lose prestige and  be weak and malleable and submissive to my hearts content, 'cause no one can hurt me. No one is going to take advantage of me or lead me to something I don't want, because I'm hers. She'll protect me. I'll never betray her or disappoint her or leave her or break her trust, which mean no one will be able to make me do anything that would lead to that - and so I'm safe.

But no, I'm not okay without her. I'm not a fully functioning adult on my own. I'm only that because I'm hers. Not so much for what she does, but for what it means to me. With her, as hers, I'm safe. Without it, I'm not.

And I'm okay with that. 

Spanking new and shiny

She's home now, and the moment I saw her it was like a weight lifted from my shoulders, and as if someone clubbed me in the head at the same time. Intense relief and killing fatigue. She's home. I'm not alone anymore.

I tend to liken myself to dogs occasionally, and when she's away that's even more apt than usual. Because I really act like a dog whose owner went out and the dog walks from window to window, restlessly checking everything, not settling down, not eating, just walking and waiting and checking everything out incessantly. Until the owner comes home and the dog collapses in an exhausted pile of fur on the carpet and sleeps for twelve hours straight.

To lessen my anxiety I actually made something for her while she was away. That speaks volumes of my increased health, that I don't have to use all my energy just to manage the bare necessities, I can do a little more than that. So I got inspired and turned one of our kitchen implements, a wooden spatula, into a spanking thingy.

I drilled six holes in it, sandpapered it and then applied black shiny varnish. I screwed up and used too much varnish the first time around so I had to sandpaper it all off and re-apply it, which was a bit of a hassle since it took ten hours to dry and needed two layers. But I got it done in time, and it felt really good to do something. To create something with my hands, and to work with wood, which is my favourite material. 

She tried it out a little on me yesterday, and declared that I was so going to regret making it. I think she's right, in the best way possible.

They haven't called me back about the job, and I'm thinking that means they picked someone else. Part of me feel horrible about that, but I think I'll manage. It's a bit unsettling having no idea what my immediate future will look like, but it's okay. I'm in a good spot - I would love to be able to move forward with our plans and our lifes, but it's okay to just be here too.

Even though I almost started to cry this morning when little S and I played house and she made me the mommy of two dolls, stating they where her little twin sisters. I want babies! I want her to have siblings for real. Or sibling, since I don't imagine I'm going to be pregnant more than one more time in life. But I want that time, I want another baby. (Twins would be good, though. I'd love twins. Too bad Nature doesn't take requests.)

And the job is connected to the having babies-thing, because it would make a lot of sense economically and career-wise for me to work for a while so that I can become a licensed psychologist before I take time off to be a mom again. I'll probably be in an even worse spot looking for work if there's three or four years between getting the exam and my first job. I've heard employers frown upon that kind of gap in one's resumé. Also, I'm a bit afraid that if I don't get that done now, maybe I never will, and then I will never be a psychologist, not really, and would have worked my butt (and my sanity) off for seven years for nothing. That would sting a bit.

I want to do this. I want to get a job and work as a psychologist. If I don't get a position anytime soon, though, we might have to move for me to be able to do that, and meh. That's not something I'm looking forward to.

Life in general

I kind of fell off the interwebz during the Holidays. And a bit longer. I need silence to order my thoughts, and there's been a lot going on. Mostly just that Mistress was on vacation from work and little S was home, so I didn't need my computer to keep me company.

Today Mistress flew to Copenhagen for work, she'll be back Wednesday. I'm lost and confused as usual when she's away, but not as angsty as I used to be. I'm healthier now, I have more energy and recuperate a lot faster than before when I do get exhausted, so I'm not as scared to be alone. It still sucks, though.

In general my life is awesome. I might get a job offer this week, I was interviewed for a position last week. If I get it, my awesome life will change tremendously. If I don't get it, it will go on as before with the important difference that I'll be more aware of how awesome it really is and how much I'll appreciate it. Whether I get this job or not, being home like I am now and having this much time to myself is a short interlude in my life, a rare treat, and I'll savour it while it lasts.

Everyday bleergh.

After Christmas I was in a really bad shape. I was holding myself together by sheer willpower, the threat of depression hanging over my head. My main strategy when everyday life gets taxing is to contain emotions and negative thoughts, deal with the everyday things that has to be dealt with, and try to focus on the positive when there is any of that. Good tactics, more or less, for a short time period. Bad though if it goes on for more than a week or so. After way to many weeks of continuous chaos and sickness and worry, it started to be a very bad strategy indeed.

Just in time though we went to my in-laws for Christmas holiday, and we stayed for a week. Yesterday we came home, and already the stress and angst and depressive thoughts and listlessness are creeping up on me again. I found myself snapping at Mistress, and she told me it seemed like I had become a totally different person when we got back home. All I wanted to say was "I could say the same to you".

For me, it's so easy to see how she is different. With the responsibility and the endless chores at home, she gets tense. Grumpy, with a kind of accusing tone in her voice. It seems to me that everything she says to me is some sort of critique or accusation.

But. I also know that when I start to feel stressed or too tired, everything sounds like accusations. I get prickly, off balance, hyper-sensitive and prone to feeling like a misunderstood victim.

The truth, I think, is that we both felt worse once we got home. At my in-laws we're spoiled. Grandma makes all the food, and takes care of the kid during the night and the morning. We only have to take care of ourselves and of course little S, but all the burdens and cares of our normal lifes are gone and not missed. I get to rest enough so I don't feel overwhelmed, and that means I have patience when I'm actually with my family. And Mistress lights up, she doesn't fret as much, she relaxes and feels more present. She's there, in the here-and-now, in a way that I often miss when we're at home.

And there, we had sex. I felt like hers again, like I belonged to her. Before we left, we hadn't connected like that in what felt like forever - sickness and stress and job and lack of sleep prevented it, and the more stressed out I become the more I detach. I try to function without her, and I hate it but I can do it. Now I was starting to relax and trust and rely on her again, and now it seems like she's gone. It's like she, or us, or whatever it is I'm talking about, drifted away the moment we got into the hallway of our apartment.

I miss her. I miss me, the way I am when I feel safe and dependant and close to her. I miss us.

And the worse thing is almost that all those feelings make me bitter and angry and grumpy and acts like a wedge between us, making the problem even worse. Bleergh.