Experience,  My EJC Responses

Submission is its own reward

We’re finding our way back. Slowly and by feel.

It’s somewhat like wandering around a giant house at night looking for light switches. We’ve lived here a long time, and we know where all the obstacles are, though occasionally we stub our toes on things that have been added or left out of place. And even when we find the lights, sometimes the power is out and it does us no good.

The light, too, has a particular quality. It can be glaring and flourescent…or soft and glowy. Sometimes it’s so dim it mimics dusk, shadows creeping in from every side.

But we know, without seeing, how to find it. The knowledge is buried inside of us, accumulated from years of shared experiences. A collection of facts put in a particular order.

The wordless story of our marriage.

In this metaphor, I’ve found a lamp or two. And in the shadows, I can see our submission and Dominance circling. Waiting.

I truly believe we are both at our best when I am actively working to submit, and he is actively working to lead and command. There are rewards for our behavior. He is happier and feels respected and needed. And, as a result, he is more confident in every aspect of his life. For me, I am usually less stressed, because I lay my concerns at his feet, and I am constantly reminded of my connection to him. It provides a strong foundation for both of us, and a way to bind ourselves to one another aside from parenting, friendship, and running a household.

We are more than partners. More than friends or lovers. We are yin and yang.

Soul mates.

The rewards I receive for my submission are deep. So it’s hard to imagine why I struggle so often and so much to just BE his submissive.

In the past, I think it may have been because there were so many rules. So many ways to fail, and so little to work for. I was not capable of simply seeing my submission as the reward.

And I made it about myself. What needed as a submissive, not what he needed.

I missed the point.

So while I do appreciate the rewards…the gazes of adoration,  the good girls (God, how those words turn me to liquid), and the gifts…knowing that my behaviors are making him the best version of himself is the heart of it all.

I have the power to build him up or break him down.

I’ve done both over the years.

The lamps in this dark house are glowing, and our true natures are lurk around our feet, like cats, rubbing against our ankles in the dim hallways.

I know where I am going…and why. I’m going back to myself. Back to us. Back to him.

Back to my submission to him.

Yesterday, I wrote about literally cleaning my dirty laundry…getting back to wearing sexier lingerie and dressing in a more appealing way. Comfort is still the name of the game for me. I made a resolution years ago that I wasn’t going to wear anything that wasn’t comfortable. I’m past the age of thinking beauty is supposed to be painful.

So I did what I set out to do, and every bra/panty set I own is now ready to be worn again.

I also dug through my lingerie bin and found all of the sexy things I have bought for him over the years, and I plan to pull those out and offer myself up in something delectable at least once a month, if not more.

As I see it, right now, I’m the one “turning on lights.” He needs me to lead that charge, because he has always needed me to encourage him…to offer my consent…to say, it’s okay to take your rightful spot as King.

One way I can do that is by presenting myself in a way that says, I’m trying.

That particular scent he likes. My hair curled and down the way he prefers it. Tighter jeans. Sexy under-things. These are silent invitations…wordless reminders that I am his and that I want him to notice me.

Honestly…he notices me no matter what, and he thinks I’m sexy when I just wake up in the morning…my hair a rat’s nest of snarls, no make-up, sweats and a t-shirt. Which is why, when I try…he notices. He knows there is reason behind my efforts.

This is step one.

We’ve been seeing a sex therapist. And we’ve been working on issues…like communication, and trust, and dealing with resentment.

We’ve been to counselors before, but this time, it feels more like we are a team…in this together…just trying to learn how to do this thing called marriage better, rather than trying to fix something that is broken.

The therapist knows about our sexual past,  our non-vanilla preferences, and the fact that Mr. D is more into swinging and polyamory than I am. But we haven’t begun to dig into that yet.

Instead, the therapist has been assigning us readings and work from The Feeling Good Handbook and The 7 Principles for Making Marriage Work. He is taking us back to our roots…helping us fortify our foundation.

And I honestly believe, even though I didn’t recognize it at the beginning of our relationship, that D/s is part of that.

So here’s to finding those cats, the ones that circle our ankles in the dark, threatening to trip us. All they want is attention. They need to be fed, held, made to purr. Those cats are our deepest desires.

And mine is submission.

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