Lately it seems whenever I sit down to write anything in my blog for the category of “journal” I write it and then I find myself deleting it or just letting it sit in draft. It isn’t because I don’t want to share what I’m feeling or what is going on. In fact, I’m finding myself in a sort of weird place which I’m having trouble grasping.
There are times all I want to do is sit down and pretend I have all I ever desired or wanted. But then I can’t reconcile this feeling of missing a much larger and more satisfying life. I feel like I am missing a very important element or key. As if a locked door stood before me in all its glory and the key is forever outside of my grasp.
I keep thinking how can there be a submissive without a dominant and the answer keeps coming back, that without one there cannot be the other. In my life, I am the dominant whether I want to be or not. The submissive in me ends up sitting on the sidelines watching. I keep asking myself why the submissive in me has to keep sitting on the outside looking in and the answer keeps coming back to me “because there is no dominant to fulfill her needs”.
However, when faced with the possibility of meeting a dominant, I cower, like a little girl curled up under her blankets afraid of the dark. I keep asking myself what I am afraid of and what comes back to me is a jumbled mess which encompasses all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.
You see. It isn’t another person I am afraid of. It is me and all the mistakes I’ve made. When I was young I could barrel through life not caring and pretending while hiding and not believing. Now I can no longer pretend. I can no longer not care. I can no longer hide. I don’t want to and yet I find myself doing it every day.
I look at the houses to find that perfect one, the right one for me and my daughter and in each one I find a reason to not buy it. I wonder if I did the same with all the men who have passed through my life. Do I expect perfection? Am I not willing to compromise? Am I not willing to see the beauty in the flaws and accept them as part of the whole? Do I avoid doing so by finding reasons to not partake?
I am afraid of what those answers might be. I don’t want to believe this is what I have been doing my whole life or even now. I would like to think I am that adventurous woman in my story, in the day dreams she creates. As the story unfolds, I’m wondering if maybe I’m not more like the cowering woman she appears to be in her real life, but since her character is yet to be fully developed, I cannot say for sure.
So I sit here tonight, trying to grasp what churns within finding it ever elusive not fully comprehending what this all means and how it will all play out. Nothing in my life has ever worked out the way I hoped or planned. I’m not saying I’m not happy where I am, only that it is very unsettling at times to look at my life and realize there is a big gaping hole I’ve always wanted filled and yet it remains with no sign of it ever being filled.
Is there some vital key I keep overlooking? But more than that, how can I get past being afraid of who and what I am?