Don't Deserve You

Today's an anniversary of sorts. Not really one people celebrate, but I'm sort of celebrating it anyways.

November 22, 1993 was the beginning of the only other significant relationship I've had in my life besides Daddy.

I'm not really sure I should be calling it significant. It was short-lived and began for all the wrong reasons. I went out with him to get back at a friend -- it was very juvenile and stupid and full of drama. It was doomed from the start.

He was out of my life within two years. And if you add up all the time I was together with this guy (there was a lot of on and off periods), we were together for barely a year. I'm closing in on 40 now -- one year is nothing. Nothing.

Our relationship was intense though. In some ways I feel like that I lived twenty years in just that one year. He filled up a lot of my 'firsts'. I turned my back on friends and family to be with him. And it ended badly. Very badly. Because of this, I think it took me years to fully let go of him. Years in which I was with Daddy...married to Daddy.

It wasn't just the fallout that hurt Daddy. Daddy walked into my life in the midst of that 'intense year'. He ended up being one of those 'friends' I turned my back on. I broke his heart, his trust, and played horrible games with the love he gave me.

I know I'm very lucky he game me a second chance (actually he'd probably say it was a third). Extremely lucky that he waited for me to get my head on straight. Blessed that he's stayed beside with me in the years since as my protector, my best friend, my everything.

This summer we had the opportunity to really talk about that time of our life. There were mistakes Daddy made as well and it was a chance for us to be completely honest, to forgive, to let go. I spent a lot of time regretting, but Daddy spent even more time pointing out that although it would be nice to change things, changing one thing could risk changing everything. There are so many ways that relationship not only brought me to Daddy, but helped me to realize how lucky I was. And maybe if we hadn't made the mistakes we made, we wouldn't be here together today.

So to Daddy -- I know how much pain this date and everything it means has brought you. But it's still important to me. Not for the obvious reasons, but because twenty years ago today I made a choice that would ultimately lead me to you. This song's for you....Don't Deserve You - Plumb

Harder Than It Ought To Be

This past month has been a busy one for us. Daddy got a new job. I had some unexpected things happen at mine. We had to go out of town to my grandma's funeral. Daddy and our oldest went away hunting for a weekend. There has been a lot going on and Daddy has been very tired.

I know Daddy puts a lot of work into us. It's tiring enough to run your own life, and to add somebody else's on top of that. Plus he's learning a new, very different, much busier job. Lots going on with him, and I know this is a time where he needs me to be patient. But when I get stressed and overwhelmed, that's when I need Daddy's dominance the most. 

 

Last Wednesday was one of those days. It was a stressful day, and I got some bad news that I wasn't dealing with so well. Plus it was that time of month where my emotions run away from me so I was not in a good place. 

Daddy's number one rule is honesty. He's not a fan of brattiness. I'm supposed to tell him how I'm feeling at all times. Sometimes I'm good at this. Other times...not so much. And last Wednesday was not one of those 'good times'. Daddy had a stressful day too and had some last minute stuff dumped on him that he needed to worry about getting done the next morning.

 

So I was feeling guilty for needing him so much. I could tell he was tired and distracted, and instead of telling him how I was feeling, I thought maybe I'd just sleep things off and feel better about everything the next morning.

 

Usually we have some kind of playtime and spanking every night. But because he was tired and I told him I was too, we skipped it that night and went to bed early. Daddy had to be in the office super early the next morning and although I usually get up and make him breakfast, this morning he let me sleep in.

I don't like waking up alone. And even worse, I woke up still stressed and anxious. Everything seemed a thousand times worse and I couldn't shut off my thoughts. It's hard for me to keep my feelings from Daddy long, and he tends to pick up on it anyways. So they did all eventually come out over Thursday and Friday -- in very messy, emotional, and somewhat explosive ways.

 

I read a blog post by lil at Submissive Sanctuary about feeling like work. Gosh I love it when I read a post that puts into words exactly what I've been feeling (and can't). I hate the idea that I could be more work for Daddy. That after his hard day, he has to fix mine too.

 

I told him this and he reminded me that things are a lot less work when we do them 'his way'. If I had just been honest in the first place, we'd have had a lot easier Thursday and Friday.

 

Oy. I do sometimes have a bad habit of making things harder than they ought to be.

Daddy

I wasn’t going to call him Daddy. 

Master, Sir, Boss, Lord, Duke, Earl, King, Grand Poobah …whatever he wanted, I would call him. Just not Daddy. 

Not that he was asking me too. When we first began, we had a few conversations about this, but he really never had any deep opinion on what he should be called. To him, names really didn’t matter. I could call him whatever I wanted as long as I remembered he was the one in charge…well maybe not whatever I wanted.

I really had no feelings on this either. I just knew I wasn’t calling him daddy. We have girls – he’s their daddy, not mine. My relationship with my own father isn’t the greatest. I have childhood sexual abuse in my history. Calling him daddy would make me a cliché or certainly warrant a trip to the nearest therapist. Wouldn’t it?

So I tried Sir for a while, but it never felt right. It was awkward. Without emotion. For me, it just didn’t carry the amount of feelings I had for him. I went round and round with this name thing. Sometimes, I would beg him to tell me what he wanted to be called to no avail.

Then last year, Daddy became part of my vocabulary. It sort of was already there – it was much easier when talking with the kids to refer to him as Daddy then his name anyways. And to ease my frustration with names, Daddy decided that should be what I refer to him outside of the bedroom.

The more I said it, the more it fit. The more it fit, the more I said it. He became Daddy to me all the time. Not just in speaking, but in my thoughts too. Soon, I was even saying it inside the bedroom too. Daddy started referring to himself this way too. It’s become very natural for us.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why that is. I’ve been to therapists several times over the last few decades regarding my issues. I’ve done the talking and the programs and the meds. I feel like the last several years of my life, I’ve been in a really good place. Is this really some deep buried ‘daddy issue’?

I don’t think so.

I think calling him Daddy has to do with the kind of boyfriend and husband he has been over our nineteen year relationship. We were very young when I got pregnant with my oldest. Barely out of high school. Having a baby meant getting our crap together and growing up fast. He never hesitated – he was just as much the leader back then as he is now. Finding a better job and health benefits. Finding a place for us to live. Taking care of the bills. Taking care of a very pregnant me. And throughout the years after, I seem cursed with health issues. Through several surgeries, a heartbreaking miscarriage, a rough pregnancy with our second child…Daddy is always taking care of me. He’s always guiding me too. Whether it’s a new diet or hobby or career change. Or chasing a lifelong dream. Daddy’s always been there to support me in every imaginable way.

Early in our marriage, I collected lighthouses. Somebody asked why once and I was surprised when I found myself telling her it was because they reminded me of Daddy. He was my ‘lighthouse’, always watching over me and guiding me in life.

Now that we’ve moved into this dynamic, this has become magnified. Where before he would support or encourage me in my endeavors, now he issues orders. Now taking care of me means taking a massive amount of control of my life.

He’s still that lighthouse though. Always guiding, always protecting, always knowing what I need. Sometimes I think he knows me better than myself. Proof of this came last weekend. My grandmother’s death was hard and I was still reeling from it when Daddy decided to implement a new rule. I haven’t been good about going to church lately, so he wants me at church every Sunday. Now this probably doesn’t seem like a huge thing, but for Daddy it is. See, Daddy’s not a Christian. And Daddy is not a fan of the church I usually go to.

I grew up super-involved with a huge church and developed a deep faith at a young age. Daddy knows this – has always known this. Daddy, however, has never really shared that faith. I wouldn’t call him an atheist or anything…he’s just really nothing. Maybe slightly agnostic, but not a fan of religion at all.

Daddy’s always been super respectful of my faith though. He’s never had any issues with the kids and I attending or becoming involved. He’s even gone with us on the occasional Christmas or Easter although he often says he doesn’t like the church and finds himself getting angry whenever he goes.

When we moved into this dynamic, I was so swept up in that beginning ‘frenzy’ feeling, that I never thought much what it might mean for the differences in our faith. Afterwards, when I started calming down, I started wondering if faith and church were something Daddy would take away from me. I mean he certainly could – it really wasn’t some kind of hard limit we ever agreed on or anything.

But the thing is the dynamic didn’t change Daddy. He was still the same accepting guy as he was before. He told me that he would never ask me to do something that went against my faith and that was an automatic hard limit. 

And now he’s making me go to church. Something he doesn’t believe in. Something he doesn’t care for. Yet, he recognizes what it means to me and that I need it.

So once again, he’s my lighthouse. Always shining that light…even in my darkest nights. And because he demonstrates this time after time, I’ve come to trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anybody in my entire life.

This is why I call him Daddy.

Left Unsaid

Two weeks ago, it felt like Daddy and I were so out of sync. I was frustrated, he was frustrated. He asked me to be patient and trust him.

One week ago, it felt like we were getting back on track. Daddy was back. Playing, spanking, things were good.

Then six days ago, I learned my grandmother had had a stroke and wasn't going to make it.

Daddy and I have both lost people before. We've both been blessed to have grown up with nearly all our grandparents throughout our lives. Unfortunately though, that's meant we've had more to lose. They've all been hard, but this one has been even harder because I had not seen nor talked to my grandmother in five years.

There wasn't a big 'falling out' between us or anything -- maybe that makes it even sadder. She did live over 600 miles away so dropping in on her wasn't the easiest thing to do. However, up until about 13 years ago, I called her once a week and saw her at least once a year. But then my parents went through a bitter, messy divorce that dragged me into the middle and created a wedge with that side of the family. And although I knew my grandmother still loved me dearly, it became easier to avoid than deal with the conflict created by the fallout of my parent's marriage.

So the years passed and the phone calls and visits dwindled into nothingness. My oldest child barely remembers her and my youngest not at all. Every now and then, I would get a whisper in my head urging me to pick up the phone and call her. A longing to hear that excited squeaky pitch in her voice as she would say my name when she realized it was me.

In August we were but a few miles from her. I thought of going to see her. I should have gone to see her. But I didn't.

Last Friday, as the day wore on, and I waited for my father to call with the latest update, all I could think of was everything I left unsaid. Everything I'd never get to say. Did I ever thank her for that dark summer of my life that she helped me through? Did I ever tell her how much it meant that even though her and I were nothing alike, she loved me for who I was? Did she know I loved her?

She passed away late Friday afternoon, and the weekend was a whirlwind. Daddy and I pretty much threw the kids and the dog in the car and drove across several states for an awkward and heartbreaking family reunion. I don't know what I would've done without Daddy. I was a mess. Guilt. Dread. Sadness. Regret. He never let go of my hand for very long.

It's been a hard week, but I can't help but think how good this dynamic is for us. Even over the last month when we've been struggling, it's still been good. Because we talk all the time. Daddy constantly wants to know what I'm thinking and feeling -- honesty is his number one rule.

I guess I'm finding it comforting right now to know that with him, there never is anything left unsaid.

Breaking

When we're in sync, things are amazing. It's like Daddy is inside my head. I don't know where I end or he begins.

But when we're not in sync, it's hard. Really, really hard.

Daddy's new job has kept him very busy. He has lots of new things to learn on top of the new schedule. He's stressed and doesn't have the time or energy he had a month ago. There's a lot of transition in my current job right now. A lot of planning for what my future will be after this job is done. I've been feeling the stress. My body's been feeling the stress -- it seems like it's been health issue after health issue over the past week.

All these changes are overwhelming.  I know I just need to be patient. And I do well, for the most part, throughout the day. But at night all the feelings collapse in on me. I miss Daddy. I miss his dominance. I miss him inside me -- both physically and mentally. I miss the spankings. I miss the closeness.

We had a good talk the other night. About bringing in new rituals and adapting some of the old ones. Daddy reminds me the rules are still in place, and he's been doing what he can. But sometimes it's not enough.

Last night we both seemed to explode. We said a lot of things, but had trouble really listening. Daddy got frustrated. I cried a lot.

This past summer Daddy drew this deep vulnerable part of me out. I felt so safe. Like I was tucked in a little box with walls formed from his dominance and control. I was protected and free. I didn't have to pretend or hide -- not with him. But now I don't feel that box. I feel desperate, out-of-control. Like I'm bouncing around looking for even the hint of a wall.

I asked Daddy last night if we could just take a step back until we're through this. I feel insecure and destructive and have an overwhelming need for self-preservation.

Daddy asked me to stick it out until Sunday, and if I'm still feeling this way we can't take a step back.

So I agreed to wait. To submit. To obey. To stay open to him about how I'm feeling and trust him despite how badly everything in me wants to run away.

So here I am struggling to be patient and hang on. Doing everything I can to not break us. Or me.

And Just Like That Everything Changes

When I was a little girl, the thing I most looked forward to about being married was never having to sleep alone. The dark seemed a lot less scary if you had someone by your side.

And then I grew up, got married, and found myself sleeping alone.

For the majority of our marriage, Daddy has worked nights. Every evening after I put the kids to bed, we'd have about half an hour together alone (if we were lucky) and then I'd kiss him goodbye until the next morning. And although we did get more time on Daddy's nights off, he still kept to a stay up all night/sleep during the day schedule because it was too hard to keep switching sleep.

Now sleeping alone does have a few advantages. You can really spread out by yourself in a queen sized bed, and it's nice not having to share covers. But I think that's what I would tell myself so I'd feel better. The reality is that not having Daddy home every night has really sucked.

In the beginning, Daddy working nights was best for our family. It was more money and more flexibility with childcare. But as the years have passed, it's gotten harder and harder, and Daddy's been trying hard to find something with a better schedule for a long time.

Last Thursday night, the call I've been waiting years for finally came. About a month ago, Daddy was approached about a possible promotion that would mean a normal M-F day schedule. It's been several weeks of rumors, odd e-mails, an interview, and more rumors. But the phone call brought that all to an end when Daddy called to tell me he started the new job on Monday. I'm sure the neighbors heard my screaming.

This is a huge change for us. Neither of our children can remember Daddy not working nights. My oldest daughter can't stop talking about how nice it is to finally have a "normal family". It seems like every other minute I'm thinking of something we no longer have to stress or worry about because of Daddy's schedule.

It's been a whirlwind around here since the phone call. I was gone for the weekend and missed Daddy like crazy. And when I came home, there was an incredible amount of stuff to do to get ready for his first day. And Daddy's been struggling to turn his nights into days.

Before the phone call, things slightly shifted between us that led me to a very vulnerable place. Because of the emotions, he was less Dom and more Daddy. And now because his priority has to be learning his new job and adjusting to the new schedule, he's a lot less Daddy too.

He's asked me to be patient. We'll get through this. I know that. I trust that. He needs my submission right now even if he can't be very dominant. I'm doing my best to show that -- getting up early to make his breakfast and lunch, having dinner ready when he comes home, not whining because he's too tired to do anything. I'm keeping to his rules and expectation, even though deep down I believe he wouldn't notice right now if I didn't. I'm keeping the brat inside me in check because I know he hates brattiness.

But there's still this little petulant child in me silently screaming for his attention. She's tempting me to break the rules, to throw a fit, to do anything to prove that he still cares.

So here I am, trying to be strong. Trying to not let the kid in me take over. I know in a few days or weeks, I will have the Dom and the Daddy back. Probably more than ever since we'll have more time together.

I know soon it will all be more than worth it. I just need to get through the now.

Where We've Been, Where We're Going

Although Daddy and I are very new to the whole M/s dynamic, we've always had sort of a 'unofficial' power exchange of sorts throughout our relationship.

He thinks for him it's because of how he grew up. His dad was always the one in charge, and his mom went along with it. For me, I think it's because of how I grew up too -- I learned early on I did not want my parent's mess of a marriage. Instead I hoped to be more like my grandparents, who had what I think of as an old-fashioned marriage.

Daddy really reminded me of my grandpa. He had to be in the driver's seat -- both literally and figuratively (although he did once let me drive from one exit to the next during a road trip). He held the remote, monitored the bank account and budget, paid the bills, and handled the outside chores. We tended to watch the TV shows he likes, eat at the restaurants he preferred, and shopped where he wanted to shop.

That's the way it's always been for us. Even back to the beginning of our marriage. Even on some really minor things. Like spaghetti noodles. I grew up with my mom breaking them before cooking them. His mom didn't break them. So we don't break the spaghetti noodles.

And before I start making Daddy sound like controlling or something, I should say it wasn't like that. There were no barking orders or harsh words. He's an introvert, very laid back, and generous to a fault. Throughout our marriage, most of his decisions have been about making me happy. For a guy, he's one of the most thoughtful gift givers I know. He's also had an uncanny way of knowing what I was thinking and feeling before I do. He likes to say it's because he's been studying me for 18 plus years.

Not to say we didn't have power struggles--because we did (and still do). Not to say I didn't get annoyed with things always having to go 'his way'. Not to say he didn't 'give in' a lot too.

But this is how it was for us...outside of the bedroom anyways.

So when we went M/s, I figured it would mostly be about fixing the sexual side of things. The only real change would be about having more sex---especially since I had so many years to make up for. I mean, we already had this 'he leads, I follow' thing down. Easy, breezy, right?

Wrong.

It seems like since we began this journey over a year ago, we're always changing. We'll get to right where I think we're supposed to be, where he wants us to be, and then something will happen and we're shifting again. Sometimes we're moving forward, deeper. Sometimes it's like it's all blowing up in our faces and we're taking a step or two back.

This past summer was a big time of moving forward for us. For the first time in our marriage, we had a month with no kids -- just us. And while yes the sex was a lot of fun, the best part of our time together was how much we talked and talked and talked. About everything. One weekend Daddy declared it a 'trip to the past' where we opened up about any questions we've always had or things we may have kept from each other. It was a chance to really clear any walls between us and although it brought a few painful moments, it brought us closer to each other than we've ever been.

After our month together, we went away on vacation and were joined by our kids. It was a nice break and we were in a really good place. I was worried about coming home, though. The summer was nearly over and there would be school and jobs. How would they affect this new bond we had formed?

But Daddy had a plan -- he always seems to have a plan. And although our time is less and we've been dealing with this 'limbo', I feel just as close to him as ever. Maybe it's because of all those walls we destroyed.

However over the past few weeks or so, we've been shifting again. New feelings, new realizations, new healing that came out of clearing out the past. Stuff I'm not quite able to put into words yet, but I hope to. Daddy sees a new path for us, one he wants to take. He asked me if I'm ready, since he's not about to drag me down it, and I think I am. But I'm also a little bit scared to leave this good place we found.

I've been feeling so vulnerable lately. Mostly in a good way--like I'm growing and moving forward. But still very vulnerable.

And it's funny to me that I once thought this was just going to be about the sex.