I'm reminded that what I want, does not matter.
He tells me it matters. He tells me it does.
But what he wants, matters more.
Overrides my wants and needs and his silences mine.
Its a horrible, awful feeling not to find comfort or be made comfortable in your own home, to have your voice silenced where you should be heard. Is it any wonder, I dream of elsewhere? I wish for more?
But these are my walls.
We didn't take a break from M/s.
He doesn't believe that taking a break is a thing, to him that would be calling quits and he won't do that.
We might be more lax and certainly in the last three years, we have had less kink, but we are still us. I'm still owned.
Nothing has changed that.
But I wonder, if he had said we are taking a break, if that would have made me feel as if I had some of the freedom I was craving? I don't know.
Probably not. I probably would have felt more alone because I still couldn't leave and now I have him telling me that I wasn't his. No winning there.
There is only so much you can do to check out when you are still physically in the same space.
I wasn't putting forth effort, or going out of my way but you know, meals still were cooked and floors still swept and life still went on--my torment aside.
My head and heart were not in agreement on anything. My heart was wounded, my head was angry and there wasn't much meeting between the two.
Its been about five months since that fight.
That conflict that broke something in me.
The effect of that, snuffed out what little hope I had, in what has been a seriously tough year for us.
I concluded, that it really was just my fate and it was what it was and there isn't a lot to do to change it. Things weren't going to get better despite how much effort was put forth.
After we got home, I became a cone of silence. I also cried to the vomiting point for three straight days. The enormity of my reality hit me in a whole scary way that it never registered before.
Being his property used to fill me with pride, giving up my will over to his is where I found my freedom and joy for many years.
In those stormy days, it filled me with dread.
I couldn't believe how much control, power and choice I didn't have--when I wanted out, when I wanted anything other than the reality I had, how little I actually did have came hit home.
I had a horrible time reconciling that reality.
But when the enormity of what I didn't have hit me, there came this chilling acceptance.
I went into self-preservation mode.
He owns me, that's my truth.
This was living the side that comes with no benefits, no fulfilment.
I can't imagine it was the best time for him, either.
I micro-managed the few details I could control. I realized how much I truly hated being in that role of initiator and stopped doing it.
I stopped texting/calling/emailing/saying hello first, in all contexts and circumstances.
Amazing how quiet my days were.
Hurt and angry, I did the bare minimum around the Hovel and for him.
I did only what was necessary and clung and poured myself into the one thing that is constant joy.
I started making a point of doing little things that brought me comfort and just the enough stimulation that I needed. I mostly kept to myself.
My free moments were spent watching Netflix.
Various degrees to how much he and I were communicating during this time. He had apologized but it didn't ease the pain.
He slowly and steady made effort and slowly, I started to come our of my self-centric mode, survival mode, slowly.
I made it clear to him that I wasn't going to do anything that remotely resembled the circumstances of where and how that argument occurred, ever again. He could force me, of course, he could have said that's too bad and to suck it up.
He listened and understood and made concessions, agreeing it was best for the health of us.
When I referenced the kink community in the last post, I didn't mean that I needed to pour my heart out to listening ears. There are so few that I trust, that even if I was still involved in the community, I wouldn't say anything.
But there is something to being seen in the relationship you are living, and I think that is what I miss. That knowing that there are others who find this way acceptable, who see you.
In an idealistic world, it would have been nice to have it said, "Hey. I know you are in a sucky place with no escape possible. How are you coping?"
Because to tell me to leave or walk away, is ignorant and disrespectful of the confines of my relationship.
So few talk about the rough times while living a M/s and I refuse to believe that because its not spoken or written about, it doesn't happen.
Most of what I have come across is that there couldn't possibly be conflict in a M/s dynamic because its structured to basically kill that at the onset.
And of course, the standard other advice is when things get rough, call an end to it.
But what about when life happens?
How does life not change one or both of the parties involved?
You still cling to a structure, a dynamic that doesn't allow for growth?
Illness, life changes, challenges, grief, none of that affects you?
Or maybe we are the only ones who struggle *snorts*.
He was my safe place.
So yes in dealing with all that happened, my feelings were flung, words were hurled and he was there as I worked through all of it. And it baffles me there are those who take the side of because I am his slave, I shouldn't have uttered unkind words, I should have just bottled up my feelings and kept quiet.
As much as my emotional soup is hard for him to deal with, he actually does recognise that not dealing with it would not contribute to good mental health. He wants me in one piece. He also wants all of me.
I am not the same as I was when I first started this blog.
I now know what it is like to have my voice ripped away from me, have connections shredded, have my consent violated, have what I want not matter at all---not by him but by the outside.
Yeah, all of that has changed me.
I can't reach that immaculate place of surrender.
Not when I needed to guard my own mind for my sanity, not when I needed to take back autonomy of my body in order to heal.
To the outside, I'm sure most days, even during this period, we looked like a happy family and in some moments, there was happiness.
But alongside that, hollow and painful.
When you know what the height is, when you know what its like to live the fulfilment of that oneness, that perfection, that we had achieved through M/s, anything less than that is a severe contrast.
In what ways I have changed and how and how that relates to our kink and our dynamic, is being sorted out. Its kind of like starting all over again.
He's had a hard time, I think, letting the old me, the old us, go.
He has met me where I am though and maybe that's a tiny bit of hope crawling back in.
Five months and I feel like now, we are slowly climbing out of self-preservation mode. That we are at the point where we could go forward, even if I don't know what that forward looks like.
We go forward two and back three.
But I didn't commit to being his under conditions that life would be easy, on the condition that our coffers would be full, that I would get everything I wanted handed to me. I didn't surrender on terms that I would always be happy or that there would be no pain.
That's the horrible awful thing about love, it doesn't come with conditions, there are no take backs, at least not for me.
Life doesn't allow to be bound by protocols or hemmed in by ideals.
A few months ago, after one of the worse fights we ever had, I was not in a good place.
I wanted to leave.
If I had anywhere in the Universe to go, I would have.
I racked my brains trying to think of where I could go and there was no where.
And I knew there was no where but I still tried to find somewhere.
And no one that I could go to.
I didn`t have support of any kind.
No support emotionally for dealing with the issues I was having, no support in dealing with the issues we were having and no physical support. There is no couch to crash on in my world.
I stopped writing here, stopped trying to put voice to what was happening because there was no support to be found and no one understood.
Its so easy to chop a relationship down to black and white. So easy to put the blame on the person who has from all appearances, made the transgression.
Really easy, to say, `Walk away. Oh and if you don`t walk away, accept that *you* have chosen this. That you are staying even though you could go`.
In other words, shut up.
But there isn`t always a choice.
The chains of love, loyalty and devotion do not dissolve instantly and just because you accept something as being part of your reality, doesn`t mean you can`t bitch about it. And it doesn`t mean that it doesn`t hurt like a mother.
What I needed then, what I really needed, was to be heard. To be validated.
Time and space away would have been healing, but I needed that reassurance that I wasn`t crazy in my mind. That I was still me, even though I was hurting, I was still capable of surviving.
I needed to be seen through the pain and I needed to be heard, to be reminded that I was more than that one moment, that one breath of time that led to those moments.
And what I also needed--and this is why I miss the kink community so much--was support to be in this damned union that I so wanted to flee. I am aware that I made choices. My vows and commitments mean something to me because in the end, that is the living sum of all of me, those things that say I am who I am, they speak to qualities, to things that are soul deep. And when you have nothing in this life other than your words, they are mighty important.