Insecure in Blogland

In one of the early manuscripts I wrote, there was a character who always ran from her problems. At the end of every chapter. At the end of every scene. At the slightest hint of confrontation, she was out of there.

After about the fiftieth time or so of this character taking off, my critique partners informed me (in their gentle but very firm way) that if I wanted the readers to give a damn about my character, I needed to make her stand up for herself.

Daddy agreed with them. He also pointed out something else. He thought that character was very much like myself.

I hated strongly disliked admitting he was right.

I've barely begun to find my voice here in blogland, and I fear I've already stepped on somebody's toes. And after reading a post about another blogger encountering judgment, I nearly slammed my computer shut with a vow to not return.

The problem is it's not my choice. Blogging twice a  week is a rule--one I imagine Daddy's not going to let me run from.

I wrote last week about how I'm not one of those strong vibrant women who you'd never guess were submissive. I just wanted to say that I envy women who are like that more than you'll ever know. I'd give anything to have that strength. I hope my daughters are like that--whether they ever find out they have a submissive side or not.

I really wish I could be like that. Brave. Confident. Fearless.

But I'm not. And yes, it's something that's been worked on over and over and over again in my life -- with countless friends, family, therapists.

Daddy accepts me the way I am, and he's encouraging me to do the same. To embrace my gentler side. No he doesn't want me to run. Yes, he does want me to stand up for myself. But just because I'm not that quick-witted, kickass, take-no-crap woman I've always longed to be, doesn't mean I'm weak. There's a certain strength in accepting and loving yourself for who you are rather than who the world thinks you should be. 

Later as I cuddled up to Daddy, I was tempted to ask him to let me quit blogging. But I didn't. Part of it was because I already knew what his answer would be. The other part is that there are so many wonderful blogs (and bloggers) in blogland. I've been lurking for well over a year and learned so much. I don't have a lot to offer, but I am glad to be here.

I did tell Daddy about how I was feeling. And how much harder I'm finding it to write the real stuff versus fiction. He reminded me that I'm not writing to please everybody else, just him, and that if anything I should just treat it like a journal and be real and honest.

So that's what this is --- me being real. Insecurities and all.

And I want to say I'm not here to judge. I'm only here to learn. And share what I can.

Feeling Random

So I've been struggling with calling him Philip on the blog. Several months ago, I started calling him Daddy and that's what I use all the time now. It's what I say, how I think, what's in my heart. So I think I'm gonna just go with Daddy here from now on.

As for this blog post, well I'm feeling sort of blah and random right now and don't have much to say.

First we're all fighting a cold our youngest so graciously brought home from school.

Second, I'm waiting to lose my job. It's been coming for a while...the company's made no big secret about it. And I'm not scared about losing it--Daddy has a plan in place. It's just the constant daily 'is today the day' feeling that's getting to me. I'm not a patient person, and I'm so ready to be done and on to the next chapter of my life.

And third, Daddy's in position for a possible promotion at his job. It would be huge for our family, but his interview was pushed back and it's made him a little anxious.

So we're all kind of in a sick limbo around here this weekend.

Free to Be Me

There's a friend of mine who's been in my life since I was 12 years old. She's an extravert -- bold, fearless, and not afraid to speak her mind. Yet I'm convinced that if she weren't vanilla, she'd be a submissive.

Oh, I don't know for sure. I don't even know if she's vanilla (although it wouldn't surprise me if she wasn't considering she's responsible for the majority of my sexual education during junior high). But anyways, over the years, I've watched her bold personality melt into someone more eager-to-please whenever her current love interest was around.

I've heard this isn't uncommon. That there are lots of strong, vibrant women who'd you never guess as being submissive.

I am not one of them.

Spend a few minutes with me in real life--maybe even less--and you'll know I'm submissive. I have an extremely passive personality. I'm kinda like a classic doormat. I've always been this way since I can remember. Quiet, shy, afraid of conflict. Never wanting to offend people. Always wanting to make others happy. I followed rules, colored within the lines, and submitted to anyone who gave off a hint of authority.

But I had a not-in-a-good-way controlling father, overbearing mother, and friends who always put me in the middle of their fights. I learned quickly that it's hard to please everybody.

So, I learned to hate this part of myself. Really, really hate it. Not that I could escape it.

The need to please has overwhelmed me through the years. My parents, friends, in-laws, co-workers...  I could never say no. I would resent it, hate it, rage internally, but I couldn't say no.  And time and time again, I became a doormat.

But not by Philip.


Since 'officially' submitting to him, he reminds me often that the only person I need to please is him. He's given me a place where this 'need' I have is not only filled, but accepted, loved, cherished, and needed by him too.

And he's not letting me be a doormat. In my job, with my friends, with my writing. Even with commenting and blogging here in blogland. I've been lurking in the shadows for over a year, and Philip decided it was time I stepped out of the corner.

He's teaching me to not only accept that part of myself, but love it as well.

For the first time in my life, I'm finding the freedom to finally be me.

Land Mines

For us, moving deeper into a TTWD relationship has meant digging through the past. Uncovering the hurt we've buried throughout the years so we can heal from them has brought us closer together in ways I never dreamed were possible.

And we have a lot of these 'buried hurts'. Maybe it's because we've been together for a while or we because we had so much drama in the beginning or because I have a bad habit of preferring to run from my feelings rather than face them. Or maybe others have a lot too...I don't know.

Usually they're like empty graves. When we uncover one, there's sometimes a momentary 'heart tug' (as Philip likes to call it). Then we talk (and talk and talk). We ask any questions, discuss any lingering feelings and relish that yet another thing between us is gone.

Usually this is done in a few hours or less. Without tears or screaming or drama.

Usually.

Sometimes we seem to uncover a land mine. Everything, including TTWD, explodes around us and we're fighting like we used to fight. He gets angry and pulls away. I get emotional and pull away. We say things we really don't mean. (Well..at least I hope we don't mean them).

On Friday, we hit one of these so-called land mines. We had been looking forward to the weekend, partly because this month has been crazy busy with the kids getting back to school and some job issues we've been having. Also because Saturday was a special day for us.

Philip had planned a surprise, but when I discovered what it was I reacted badly. Well...more like flipped out. It was something new for us. Something new, but.hardly extreme. It's probably something a lot of vanilla couples do or have done, and I've done way more kinkier stuff in the past year and a half.

In fact it was something I'd done before, with somebody else.

So the last thing Philip expected was me flipping out. I did have my reasons -- reasons I hadn't yet shared with him (it was a grave we hadn't dug up yet), but since he didn't know that he took my reaction as a rejection. So feeling hurt, he pulled away. And feeling hurt that he pulled away, I pulled away. And boom. Everything exploded.

Once things settled down, we did start to communicate. Our day was busy, so most of it was done through e-mail, but later that evening I curled up in his arms and we talked and talked and cried (well I cried). But despite all the talking and his reassurances that this wasn't my fault, and that we were going to keep talking and work through this, I couldn't help but feel like I had failed...miserably.

Why did I react that way? Why didn't I just submit? Why did I have to go and ruin our special weekend by my little freak out?

We did end up having an amazing weekend. Even without Philip's surprise, it was sweet, sentimental, fun, kinky, and perfect. But I still can't help feel a little shaky. Like I'm waiting to see if this is something that's brought us closer together or set us back. Or if it's just another reminder that things worth having don't come easy.

Gosh I hate those land mines.

How It Began Part Two

If I had known then what I know now, I may have never sent Phillip that e-mail.  I may have realized the risks—that I was revealing a deep part of myself he might not accept.

He could reject me. Tell me I was abnormal. Or weird. Or crazy.

So many risks.

But I didn’t realize that when I hit send. I was nervous—pounding heart, churning stomach--, but I never really thought things through about how he would react.

I just hit send.

And lucky for me he didn’t freak out. He didn’t call me crazy.

No, he came home early from work that night and made some of those fantasies I had written about in the e-mail come true.

Over the next few days, weeks, and months, our entire relationship shifted. Sex finally came to the forefront. We explored new things together and grew in ways I never thought possible. We played lots of ‘D/s games’…we had a special bracelet I wore when feeling submissive, we had special rules, special nights of the week. We even had an entire day of D/s when the kids were gone. It was all just ‘bedroom stuff’, but it was good and we were happy.

And then came his e-mail.

Unbeknownst to me, Philip had been doing some reading and research of his own. And about six months after I sent my e-mail, he sent one proposing a 24/7 power exchange. I didn’t hesitate to agree.

In the beginning I was anxious and wanted to jump in. He wanted a slower pace. This led to some early bumps, but once I learned to let go and follow, things got easier. The road hasn’t always been perfectly smooth—we’ve had our growing pains. We’ve had some pretty big fights—and even a few times where we’ve had to step back from things.

When he brought up the power exchange, I didn’t think it would be a big shift to our relationship. He’d always been the ‘one to where the pants’ anyways. But I was wrong.

TTWD has changed EVERYTHING in our relationship. What I once thought was a happy marriage pales in comparison to how we are now. I’ve never felt this close to anyone, this in safe with someone, this in love with someone.  Even our dating days. Or our wedding day.

I don’t know exactly what we are. DD, Taken In Hand, M/s, D/s. We’re a little bit of all of it, I think. And a few months ago, he even became Daddy. Not as an age thing, but because it fits. He’s everything these days. My protector, my friend, my shoulder to cry on, my guide, my support, my safe place to fall.

Maybe we’re just us, making our own little place under the TTWD umbrella and waking wake up every day thankful that I sent that e-mail.

And that this---whatever it is---began.

How It Began Part One

I was barely out of high school when I met my husband, Phillip. He was the rebound off of my first serious relationship. Only he didn't want to be a rebound. I was a mess, but he didn't care. He picked me up, dusted me off, and four years later in the front of a church filled with friends and family, he made me his wife.

We had two amazing children, photo albums full of memories, and a long history of trust and friendship. We were happy.

Or so I thought.

In the months leading up to our tenth anniversary, I knew something was wrong. Phillip was growing quiet and withdrawn. I persisted and when the truth came out, I was forced to face what had been missing in our marriage from day one.

Sex. He wanted it. I didn't. I don't want to say we were in a sexless marriage, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't pretty darn close. I 'put out' what I thought was enough to keep him happy, but to me it was a chore, something to get through. I did it for him -- it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. And he knew that.

I don't know why I was that way. Maybe it was my overzealous religious upbringing that had me believe I should only have sex with the man I marry (and husband was sexual partner #3 for me). Or maybe it was because I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse. I don't know. All I do know is that I had built up thick walls around any sexual part of me.

Phillip tried to break them down. Over and over he tried. He encouraged me to share my fantasies. He tried toys and games. He listened for hours, constantly reassuring me, as I cried over my childhood incidents. But those walls refused to budge, and after a decade of ramming into them, he was tired. I was losing him.

I remember how frozen I was as I watched him pack for a 'weekend to get away and think'. I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't know how to break those walls for him. At the last minute, he asked me to join him and something inside of me wanted to fight for this -- for us.

In a hotel room in one of our favorite places on earth, I first let my submissive side out to play. I gave him some of his fantasies and for the first time, really enjoyed doing it. It was an amazing weekend and things did get better when we came home.

During this time, I began to pursue a lifelong dream of mine to be an author. I wrote a book. I revised and revised and revised that book. I reached out and joined writer's groups, made writing friends, formed critique partner relationships. I started a blog, entered contests, attended a writer's conference. I queried agents, celebrated some success, dealt with a lot of rejection. Phillip was there, every step of the way. He read several drafts, helped me query, made dinner, took the kids to their activities so I could write. He was perfect. And we were happy.

Or so I thought.

It took a long time for me to find the courage to finally admit to those I'm close to that writing a book was a dream of mine. Even longer for me to begin to reach out and pursue it. And finding the courage to share my writing -- that was nearly impossible. I took so much courage, that I think somewhere during the process, some of the walls of insecurity and doubt I had built over my life began to tumble down.

One hot summer night, while Phillip was working and the kids were sleeping, those walls I built to suppress my sexual self came tumbling down. Behind them were all the fantasies I hid -- the ones I'd had since childhood. Ones about force, about pain, about being controlled. They turned me on, intrigued me, and scared me. They went against everything I'd ever been taught to believe. For far too long they made me feel twisted and dirty.

That's why I hid them away. But not that night. The walls were down, the dam was broken. They overwhelmed me and I wrote several of them down in an e-mail.

I addressed it to Phillip. And I hit send.

Here I Am

I think the first blog post can be the hardest to write. I've written one before, on another blog in another corner of the web, but it wasn't as hard as this one. Probably because even though you won't find my real name here, this is more "me" than anything else I've ever posted online before.

So who am I? I'm a wife. I'm a mother. I'm a daughter, a sister, a friend. I'm a writer and a reader. I love chocolate, popcorn, and sleeping in. I like baking and sewing. I prefer the color pink. I wish I could sing.

But that's not why I'm here.

I'm here because I love that He is in control. I love it when He spanks me. I love sitting at His feet and feeling His fingers stroke my hair. I love hearing the words 'good girl'. I love the sight of the bruises He leaves on my skin. I love the rules He gives me. I love that He pulls my hair when I'm out of line.

I love how safe I feel cuddled into His arms.

I love being His.

I'm here because there's nobody I can tell - well nobody who would get it anyways. Except maybe for blogland. I've been lurking for a long time now, secretly reading and learning from so many amazing blogs out there, but it's getting too lonely being a lurker.

I have way more to learn than I have to offer. But here I am.