Every couple fights; no matter how much love there is, no matter how much sex, no matter how
much communication. M and I, well, we don’t fight too often. A minor disagreement here or there, but over all, we rarely fight. And I never go to bed angry. Until last week. And why that night? Who the fuck knows: pride exhaustion, frustration, idk…
But the fight is not really the point here today. Instead, it seems to me that the further we are into our dynamic, the more he becomes the Sir and me the toy, the harder these fights become emotionally, at least for me (not to be snide or snarky, but I don’t think our fights truly bother M… he is proud and sometimes arrogant **sorry Baby**). When he becomes angry, or disappointed in me, it kills a little bit of me, every time. Because more than anything, I want to please him, make him proud of me, be everything he wants and needs. But sometimes I miss the bar.
A little bit ago, Fatal posted about a friend breaking up with the man who had collared her, and how traumatic it was. Now, if you are not in a dynamic, a break up is hard, I don’t want to underplay that. When love is lost, it is always traumatic. But when you in a power exchange, when you have given yourself, your love, your will, your soul, to a man that has earned the title of your Sir, it is not only heartbreaking, it is utterly devastating, as defining yourself without that, without Him, is something you don’t know how to do.
And although M and I are not breaking up, not even close, this relates. Because now, when a fight ensues, it hurts even more. It racks my heart and soul, tears me apart from the inside. I begin to worry. And that worry turns into panic. And the panic, terror. I fret about what he’s thinking, his disappointment. I fear he will no longer want to be my Sir, want to have the responsibility of taking care of the mess that is me. I become afraid that the disappointment will run deep, and turn love and devotion into hatred and disgust. These self-defeating thoughts mix with the anger, and I stew and fester, becoming a fucked up mix of boiling emotions that I don’t know how to handle. And the worst part is the more I become his, the worse these fights attack my psyche.
Crazy, I know, but that’s the way my mind runs.
Now that I’ve reached here, I don’t know what the fuck the point of this post was. I don’t know what I was trying to share or what point I was trying to make. *shrugs* Shit. Sorry folks, for a random rambling…
And a song for you Sir… because I love you.