Daily Submissions

I Wish

Written By: gracie - Aug• 10•11

It’s early in the morning and I’m almost sleepy enough to have a quick nap before running errands.  I was just watching some porn and thinking about some blogs I read earlier.  They make me feel relieved. Not the porn part; the blog reading part. They made me realize that even though I don’t measure up to certain standards of what it means to submit, nobody has the authority to kick me out of the “People Who Submit, Somehow” club.

I shouldn’t feel ashamed that our rules are pretty relaxed and some days my Sir doesn’t even spiral me down to subspace.  Some days we skip the sex entirely.  Maybe we go out grocery shopping at Costco on a Saturday and I get snippy with him because the amount of people around me is directly tied to how anxious I get. People who are children count for double, though. And when we get home, I try to carry my share of the groceries in and my Sir, who has been hobbling on his cane since five minutes after we walked into the store, because both of his hips need to be replaced, assures me that he can bring in the rest of the stuff, if I will only put up the refrigerated items.

And I can’t fight him, not because I’m unwilling, but because I don’t have any fight left in me.  So I put up the perishables, and then do a nosedive into my latest book.  All through writing this, I’m feeling shamefully unworthy, despite the fact that everything I’ve read today has said, “You failed. Congratulations, you’re a human! Now, stand back up and try again… and again… and again, until you get it right.

My whiny self wants to get it right the first time. My whiny self doesn’t want to have to repeat the same failure over and over again, because it’s pretty obvious that I fail at whatever it is.  My whiny self is a pain in the ass.

I didn’t really get to the topic of wishing, so much. I was thinking, when I started this entry, how sometimes I wish my Sir possessed certain traits that he does not.  I’m usually grateful, for example, that he’s not a sexual sadist.  If he hurts me, it’s almost always done for my pleasure, which pleases him.  But sometimes I wish he’d lose himself in the pleasure and feed off the pain I suffer for him.  I wish for that, even as I am grateful for the way he treats me.

I am glad that, when I snap at him, my Sir knows that I am hurting, and instantly moves to help me in any way he can.  I am so grateful for his humor and insight, because it helps me avoid getting caught up into the whole “It’s all about me!” mindset because, regardless of how I act sometimes, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I think.

I’m glad I can’t frivolously wish and make things happen.  I’m almost certain that I wouldn’t like the person I’d wake up with the next day…. nor would that person like me, much.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>