Onions and Roadways

I regularly read the blog written by green girl. I enjoy it. green girl always makes me think.  Currently gg is wrestling with  questions about what she can give up and what she wants to grab back and clutch with both hands.  At some point gg turned over authority in their relationship to her husband. Almost immediately, after beginning a power exchange relationship, a person begins to obsess about what submission means. It seems pretty cut and dried– for about ten minutes.

If you are like me, an independent; competent woman; perhaps used to functioning and performing at a high level successfully, you are determined to do this submission business RIGHT.  You filter everything through the lens of submission.  Soon you drive yourself crazy.

We Can Do It! Rosie the Riveter

Submission at the level of controlling ones behavior seems obvious enough. The dominant says “Do this.” or “Don’t do that.”  But for the person starting out, a host of questions soon arises.  Like: Right now? Always? What if the dominant isn’t around? Does it count if the dominant doesn’t  notice? What if…..A) There’s a hurricane  B) Someone points a gun at my head   C) It’s the Rapture or D) All of the above

Sooner or later most dominants include levels of obedience and compliance that are open to subjective interpretation. Nuances of tone, facial expression, hand gestures and major muscle motions begin to come into play.

(p.s. Their interpretation wins.)

The dominants are also going through this process — from the other end.  They have to pass everything through the opposite lens: Was there a need for dominance? Was that dominant enough?  Did I say that was forbidden? Do I have to punish every time? What if my submissive is sick? PMS-ing? In labor? Was just fired? What if I was wrong?

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And the smart ones eventually realize another problem:  the submissive has gotten  fed up with the paddling and is flying below the radar.  Has gone underground. Smiling, polite, obedient. All the while thinking: You flaming ——–. Or, maybe, just off in a quiet interior space somewhere, where the dominant isn’t allowed.  This tends to be labeled distancing, and is usually outlawed too.

After a period of some success, some failure, lots of talk, some unpleasant times OTK or NIC (nose in corner-I just made that up…..:)  ) both dominant and submissive will feel like they have arrived.  They got this!

No they don’t.

It’s inevitable.

As long as the two of you are breathing, and dancing this dance, you will continue changing, growing.

Submission and dominance will continue to morph.

I’ve read this in other blogs-and I told gg in my comment–this business is about layers. This dance is  like an onion. We peel one layer:  -Thou shalt not say ‘whatever’ and find another-Thou shalt not roll your eyes.

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I decided today, as I drove to an appointment and things got quiet in my mind, that I was wrong.

It’s not an onion. Sooner or later, if you stick to peeling–the onion is gone. You’ve removed all the layers and it no longer exists.

ttwd is a road.

Always  under construction.

It’s a freeway.

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It’s a pitted, dirt track, a washboard.

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There are hills, valleys, detours, roadblocks, rest areas, bridges out,  speed traps, and tolls.

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It doesn’t end unless you quit.

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And even then,

as some of us can attest,

it’s still out there.

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Sitting Still for a Moment–

–for the first time in a very long while.

Today I did laundry (2 loads) and made the bed. I opened all the mail and balanced the checkbook.  I ran a few places where errands demanded  and did some of the work that keeps money flowing in. But I am also reading blogs, and writing.  It’s been a long time.

Thank you  for the amazing support!

I swear I have felt it at my back when I was about to teeter over.

Because the problem is most immediately my child’s, I hesitate to give too many details and intrude on her privacy.

Suffice it to say that for the past month I have raced, galloped, crawled–clawed– my way through foreign territory.  As a parent I expected to deal with mumps, chicken pox, colds, pneumonia, mono, horrible behavior, temper tantrums, drug experimentation, horribly uncomfortable moments– you struggle to keep your face serious while you deliver a short, terse lecture on appropriate behavior in school, demonstrate how to insert a tampon or don a condom, challenge the school board because there is not one single person of color in the school system–except the janitor.  There’s the moment when you realize your daughter really should be allowed to play with Barbies even though you would prefer to let the Rottweilers eat the damn things.  And the moment your son decides to marry Barbie.

I never dreamed I  would face cancer.  I wasn’t prepared for this job.

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I like to be prepared.

This challenges EVERYTHING that is hard for me.

Security/Money: How the HELL will we pay for this?

Pride: I have to ask for help.

Even worse: I NEED help

Independence:  I have to allow help.

Faith: The world will be safe again.

Submission-to everything!

Procrastination–my greatest character defect absolutely can not be allowed to sneak in.  There are too many balls in the air.

Trust: If I had thought this could happen, would happen, I’d picture myself researching carefully, conducting interviews, analyzing the  literature, searching references for the perfect doctor, the perfect method of treatment. Instead, I trusted the pediatrician I picked years ago to do her job, resulting in  one month from niggling concern to first treatment.

There’s more, but you get the picture.  I’m frightened. I’m functioning.  I’m feeling. I’m asking for what I need.

Supposedly we are dealing with a very treatable disease with expected positive outcomes and a phenomenal recovery rate, and very small likelihood of re occurrence.  But she has 58 days of treatment hell ahead of her and I desperately need your good wishes.

Coming Up For Air

Thanks to all of you who have sent me positive thoughts and prayers.  I appreciate them more than you may know.  Completely out of the blue one of my children-healthy as a horse let me just add-has been diagnosed with a serious disease.  Supposedly very treatable. Supposedly NOT far advanced. Supposedly 99% recovery rate.

Supposedly is still very scary.

And isn’t it amazing how all the pieces of your life come together?  I am deeply grateful for all the experiences that taught me:

It’s alright to let go.

It can be safe to trust.

People are happy to help.

It’s ok to need help and ask for it.

This community has been instrumental in helping me practice these things over the past months.

I’m glad I had the practice.

Thank you all.

I think I’m going to be alright.