In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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/s property Work

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I've been pulling together updates for my profile over the last week or two to better reflect my priorities, goals, and desires with the new year.  A great process that allowed me to reassess the many pieces of me.  Yet, I kept bumping up against what will be one of my greatest challenges this year.

While all my lovely thoughts regarding submission are a very accurate reflection of my personal beliefs and styles, the truth is that my /s/property/submissive headspace is out of breath and needs to regroup.  I need time...time to resolve the conflict in my mind between the M/s ideals I believe in and the often disappointing reality of practice I've faced.  Despite being a realistic idealist, 2018 left my submission a bit bruised.

No...it's more than that.

While I find blessed peace in M/s centric environments (my church), I'm currently distrustful of my own personal submission.  Not good.  Not good at all.  I admire others' serenity and joy in service.  I remember and ache for that feeling.  However, when I look inside my /s...my intellect is still humming and churning, but my emotional capacity is flat and motionless.  There's no joy.  No serenity.  Only emptiness.

~sigh~  Anyone got a defibrillator?  Low setting, please.  I ain't flatlined yet.

I accept most of the blame.  My loyal nature - one of my best traits - is also one of my greatest weaknesses.  My loyalty can jam me up hard when facing impossible circumstances, and once again my submission paid the price.

Late last year I attempted to put in place a number of...cushions to help pad the challenges of external shit.  I was partially successful, and in the process added MUCH to my life including dance, meditation, and a reconnection with my writing.  Soooo many blessings in that work I did on myself!  All of them are still feeding my soul now as I refocus my submissive eyes on the study of my craft as well as the addition of different types of service - that to my community and self.

I'm committed to the path I am chosen - one of positive, peaceful reconnection and growth.  I refuse to allow myself to run wildly with frustration, anger, or bitterness.  Those roads lead nowhere good, and ultimately I only have myself to blame for the choices I made - even if they were with the best intentions of loyalty and faith.

There is another significant blessing through this is all - my closest friends in the lifestyle that I've allowed to see past my social exterior.  They've been phenomenal.  They've shown me without question that they aren't around just for the fun and games and haha or sexy moments.  They stuck with me as I struggled with my submission, gave me just the right amount of space, and were a perfect blend of support, encouragement, logic, patience, and "Girrrrrrl...what the fuck you doin?"  Whether they know if or not, they helped keep my -s from stumbling hard and needing another round of stitches as I've wrestled with this imbalance.  While they can't show me the exact route I need to take, they definitely keep a soft glow flickering in the right direction.  ")

I have no doubt that my submission will be breathing strong and steady again soon, but for now... It's curled up with some books and a thick pretty purple notebook, taking stock of what's what.
~DominaKat

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