Posted by: littlegirlyone | February 29, 2012

Rage and D/s and Me

Good Leap Year.

I miss writing here. So much. I have been writing writing writing, but not online. And even though I am part of a fabulous writers’ group that gives feedback and inspires me, it’s not the same gratification I get when I write here.

You are all missed.

I posted this image in earlier February, which I think is really beautiful. But it was the commentary more than the image that really struck a chord with me. I appreciated the way the author acknowledged some of the things that I have struggled with in my forays with dominance.

Sometimes I find that a certain thought or analytical line of thinking, gets inside me and stays there. It circulates, round and round and round in my brain, comes up at the randomest times, sometimes shaking my concentration loose from where ever it is. Sometimes making me burst into tears. Sometimes making me smile.

My thoughts on dominance, or maybe more accurately, my journey with D/s altogether, have been like that in the last few months. These thoughts have become a giant pot of analysis and wonderings, and the pot is definitely getting full. I think it’s time to empty it a bit, spilling some brain juice onto the page here. The great thing about blogging is that I get to do that, at will, and be assured that somewhere, someone is going to actually read what I’ve written. And that feels powerful. Validating. Good.

In the past 10 days, I have been struggling, really struggling, with Rage. That’s a capital R because in my life, in my world, in my older versions of myself, Rage didn’t exist. Or if it did, I went out of my way to avoid, assuage, and if all else was lost, dissociate myself from it. Mostly I was afraid of other people’s. I’ve never been a fan of conflict. But underneath my conscious distancing from other people’s anger, there’s been this: I’ve been subconsciously running from my own fury.

Well, I’m fucking furious. And it isn’t the kind of explosive, dish-throwing, booming anger that I might have expected. It’s more like a series of quiet tornadoes. The anger wells up, and it just sweeps through me, silently. And the tornadoes keep coming. (I realize that, having never been in a tornado, I’m probably choosing an inappropriate metaphor, but whatever. I don’t give a fuck right now.)

That. There. See that last sentence? I don’t give a fuck right now. It’s one of the only times in my life where I’ve been able to write something like that and feel, completely, that it is true. I’m in this new place in myself — this place where I no longer need anyone’s permission or validation or desire to make me feel real and worthy and safe. I’m in this place where I don’t want to contort myself anymore. This place where I’m sick and tired and really importantly, ANGRY about pleasing people and trying to fit into their fantasies, and trying to make myself into someone else’s desires. Right now, I don’t give a fuck if I ever please anyone again.

This does not bode well for my submissive side. To be sure, the thought, right now, of allowing anyone to tell me what to do, or to call me names, or to hurt me, or to fuck me in a way that isn’t 100% of my choosing? Makes me fucking furious. Makes me want to kick that person in the teeth. Makes me want to scream no fucking way, asshole, and storm out of the room. I know this because lately, when Mark or my Daddy have initiated sexual interactions with even the hintiest hint of their dominance (which the old me used to long for all the time), I want to divorce one, and break up with the other. Because fuck that shit, assholes. I’m not interested.

It’s strange. For so many years, for maybe all of my sexual years, I’ve identified with wanting to be wanted. Needing to be perfect, and have someone desire me to feel loved and seen and whole. And for some reason, I’m fucking angry about that. Because why wasn’t I good enough? Why did I have to fit myself into everyone else’s fantasies? Why couldn’t anyone just meet me where I was, and deal with what was there?

I’ve fit myself to other people so many times. The only truly authentic piece of my sexuality that I can claim is using the word “Daddy.” Everything else, everything else, feels like a fantasy that someone spoon fed to me, that I adopted because I had to. That I made mine because to reject their fantasy would make me difficult and who wants to be with a difficult girl? I’ve developed this incredible pansexuality, and yet, right now, it all feels like hollow promises made to others: Oh sure, you want to watch 10 men throat fuck me? That’s hot. You want to rape my ass? Sexy. You want to beat me til I cry? Yes, please. And sitting here right now, today, after years and years of piling those fantasies inside myself, adopting them as my own, feeding them with my imagination, and grooming them with my time and effort and energy, god fucking damnit, I don’t want any of that. Any. It all sounds fine for someone else. But none for me, thank you very much. I want none of it.

The scary thing is that I’m not sure what I want instead. I know I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to be someone else’s version of femdom, but I can’t tell you what, if any of it, is my own. I’ve spent all this time trying to understand someone else’s fantasies, and to be the domme he dreamed up in his head, and failing. Over and over and over again. Because, frankly, nobody can be the dominant in someone else’s head. It’s impossible, and even if it were possible, it is the polar opposite of dominance. It’s submission, contorted into topping. And I’m fucking tired of it. I’m going to figure out what I want, and get that. With or without anyone else’s permission.

I’m so tired of working so hard to be what someone else wants.

I want to be wanted for who I am, even if that means figuring out, super slowly, just what exactly I even like anymore. I can tell you this: I want to fuck and be fucked. I’m just not sure, exactly, how. And I deserve someone’s patience with me while I figure that shit out. And I’m not sure if anyone will want to fuck with that, with me in this state. And best of all? I don’t give a fuck.

This post may be entirely too meta for anyone to find interesting. I don’t care. I’m posting it, and if you have something you’d like to ask or say or contribute, you all know where to get at me.

I’m grinning as I hit publish. Grinning. Not anxious or worried or scared, which are the usual feelings I have when I post something. Nu-uh. Today, I’m fucking grinning.


Responses

  1. Good for you. I don’t know you but I have read several of your post. I assumed you would eventually reach this point. I could see fewer post and lots more questions in your mind about what you were doing to yourself.

    Maybe you aren’t a little girl any more?

  2. Reading this, made me smile. In a sad way. Mainly, cause I’m there too.
    This rage, you’re talking about… it’s eating me up.
    And it’s much more than rage, there’s hatred in there, covered by layers of love and submission, that just wants to spill out.
    I have been so afraid of being lonely all my life, that I have forced myself to like what other people liked, just so that at the end of the day, I wasn’t alone. The sad thing is…. I still was. I still am.
    And now, when the man I love says “I love you”, which to him, is a real challenge, I feel… unsatisfied.
    It’s not enough… “don’t I deserve more?!” my brain screams in return. “Don’t I deserve someone adapting to MY needs and wants for once!?”
    It’s not fair for him… it’s not his fault. He didn’t put me in this position, didn’t force me to this way of seeing myself, sex and relationships all together… and so, when I bitch, and scream, and cry, and fall in this messy tantrums this state seems to bring… I feel so guilty. So full of guilt…. and that makes me even angrier… and then, it just makes me numb.
    Reading you talk about it, even if it’s not exactly the same thing… it feels comforting… it means that… I’m not that crazy, after all.

    • You do deserve it, lovely. You really do. 🙂

  3. Ooooooo!

    Pretty soon, LG, you are going to need a different handle than LG. Just a thought.

    I enjoy watching you bust out of your chrysalis. Sorry if it’s a painful, awkward process. But it seems like you’re enjoying it just now.

    Hope the chocolate didn’t melt.

  4. I relate so much. Last year I stepped away from the acting out of my desperate need to be wanted. It was so painful. At first anyway. With every passing day a strength has been growing and I’ve been connecting within in a manner that seems so much more fulfilling and healthy too. Along the way so far I’ve dipped my toe into some muckiness. But my gosh I’ve instantly felt just how wrong it has been for me and made adjustments. Nothing as demeaning as hitting a rock bottom with the D/s relationship I had. By that I do not mean to demean the relationship. It was what it was and at the time I was absolutely filled by the experience. Then I started feeling my rage and I did not know how to contain it. Master at the time was incapable too and so a new vision started to appear that I was unable to make any sense of at all for a while. The clarity came for me that I needed to get out of the role. The learning had been immense and also a valued experience to discover an outlet for the passivity t become rage.
    I received such support from different places. I have been continuing along a different path for over a year now and feeling a freedom very different from the freedom I thought I had found. This is mine, totally mine. It’s an inner freedom and it’s filled with love.
    Oddly though this last week and a half I’ve felt the fury and been walking, no stomping about in it. Causing havoc wherever I could subtly fling out a projectile of my storm in the shape of cutting gossip or something equally as devastating. How ugly I found myself.
    I am writing about this weeks experience of rage and fury myself – as Shakespeare said ….it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

    • I love that you’ve quoted Shakespeare, and that you’ve left me with your story. I really find it quite inspirational. Thank you.

  5. What a beautifully powerful place you are at in this moment! This is exactly the point where finding out what your own dreams and wet dreams are and where you want to take them, is finally possible. You just became owner of the bubbling gift within….now you get to open it and discover the layers of goodies that make up all of your real desires…. as opposed to the ones fed you, or the ones that helped you survive while you mended your sense of self worth. So often we let others shape us puely for survival when somewhat temporarily damaged.

    But you now… are whole. Savor the discoveries, and demand those who give you the room to be all of who you are, even if you don’t know who that is yet. I think it would be thrilling to watch that unfold, or be a part of the unveiling. And I do look forward to hearing all of the wonders you unearth now. Brava….and happy spelunking!

  6. Keep shoving crap out of the “who am I” box and eventually who you are will flow back in. The past couple years have been a very interesting exercise in what could be and I am sure you have grown in interests and insights.

    However, as you imply, how much of that was what lg wanted and how much was what lg was asked to do? keep shoving the crap out and see.

    It is good to see you thinking and writing – keep it up, it has always served you well.

    • I am really grateful for your comments, dear friend. I’m glad you’re there, and still reading here.

  7. I love reading your posts because I always seem to be going through the exact same thing you’re going through at the time. I can almost always relate to you and the plethora of emotions you’re feeling. I’ve meandered in and out of the D/s scene for over 10 years now. I’ve tried on different roles: slave, sub, Domme, and little girl. The latter fit me best. But even so, I’ve been on my own journey of trying to figure out who *I* am – not who I’m trying to be for Mr. X, Y, and Z. Along that journey, I’ve discovered this great sense of self worth that I’ve never experienced before. I realize I (whoever that is) am enough. I don’t have to bend over backwards and contort myself to please someone in an effort to keep them around. Love me or hate me. But if you hate me, walk away and don’t waste another minute of my time. And in that realization I find myself falling further and further away from the D/s scene. I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t want to be told what to do. I don’t want to fear punishments for not meeting someone’s expectations. I don’t want to fuck on someone else’s schedule. I don’t want to be humiliated, degraded, objectified, demoralized, etc., etc. In short, I don’t want to be submissive anymore. So okay. But where does that leave me? Because I still crave strong, dominant men. At times, I still enjoy being a little girl. Confusing? Yes. So I guess my journey of self-discovery continues….

    I hope you won’t wait so long to post again. I look forward to reading your blog. You… make sense to me. 🙂

    • thank you, thank you. hearing that i make sense to anyone right now? is a huge relief.

  8. A mutual friend pointed out your post to me and I’ve been thinking about you over the past few days, trying to say something that might help at this time of great angst.

    I read this advice for people who are controlled by someone:

    “Ask yourself, “What is it costing me to be in this relationship?” If the answer is your dreams, identity or dignity, the cost is too high.”

    My father used to say, “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” Inclined to see only one fish at a time myself, I had trouble embracing the concept. But, the point I am trying to make to you is that you seem a very loving person and I feel rather sure that love is already all around you. You just may not be noticing it right now. You are searching for one true love of your own: to give love and receive love.

    I totally get your feelings about loneliness. Just be yourself, happy in your own skin and the love you want will come.

    Good luck.

    • Thank you for your sweet, encouraging words. It is really nice to hear from you, and to know that our friend is well and reading here, too. I miss him.


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