Control and Submission

In 1996, John Travolta starred in a light-hearted, funny little film called "Michael." He played a cigarette smoking, cookie-sniffing, sugar-eating, bull-charging, womanizing, slob of an angel with an awfully big heart. The film irritated the heck out of some folks. Others called it "Capra-esque." There was a tag-line of sorts that proclaimed that "He's an angel; not a saint." I remember there was one point in the movie where Michael was engaged in some remarkably un-angel-like behavior. When this was pointed out to him, he simply declared that he wasn't THAT kind of angel.

So, what's the point? Well, like Michael, I embody a "type" that people believe they recognize. I self-identify as submissive and slave within the BDSM lifestyle community, and most people who are reasonably conversant with the "in" vocabulary understand what that language implies. I've been at this long enough to have read probably millions upon millions of words about "true" submission, the submissive personality, submissive nature, and all the rest. I've known (on-line and in person) a fair number of people who lay claim to the submissive label, some of whom have lots more "experience" in the lifestyle than I do. There are plenty of people who are way more accomplished and graceful at this "submission" business than I am -- or likely ever will be. When it comes right down to it, I am sorely tempted to go right to a variation of that movie line: "I'm not THAT kind of submissive."

Because. I'm a controller. By my nature, and by lifelong habit. It is my inclination and instinctive response to move to assume control in any situation where it is possible for me to do that. If control is within my grasp, or if it is placed within my grasp, I will take it. It isn't always good for me to do that, but if no one else has hold of the reins, I will pick them up and hold onto them for all I'm worth. And not just hold on, but actively drive the whole contraption.

I'm better off, emotionally, physically, sexually, spiritually when I can submit to someone that I can trust to take the control and allow me to let it go. It isn't good for me to orchestrate absolutely everything in the world around me. I've done it and I know what it costs me. That doesn't change the nature that lives inside my psyche.

Submission is something that I do. It is a practice that I undertake; a personal discipline that leads me into a condition of internal peacefulness, calmness, and emotional wellness. It brings me to my center, and, when I manage to find my way into some kind of balance point with it, it fulfills me as a sexually vibrant, healthy, free and happy woman.

It is finding that balance point that is the trick for me -- because I tend to analyze, and mutter away inside my head, and ascribe motivations where none exist. I watch every move and every facial expression and every gesture, and I "read" great meanings into it all. I hear every nuance of voice and expression, and believe I perceive entire unspoken (mental or subvocalized) conversations that really never happened. Simultaneously, I miss things that get said "in passing, " or perhaps even directly, because I'm caught up in my own internal script. I wonder about what I do not know or understand -- actually, I may even verge on the obssessive edge of that by times.

I want to be all the things that I know, logically and intellectually, I SHOULD be as a submissive and a slave. I really do strive for perfect obedience, and perfect calm, and perfect patience, and perfect trust, and all the rest. I understand that He owns me, and that I DO NOT own Him -- so I "get" that I am without anyplace to stand when the voices begin to push me to the place where I plot and plan to get what I sometimes believe I want from Him, or even (more insidious in some ways) just unconsciously behave in ways that passively move the dynamic in directions that I define. I am a "piece of work." Still. Even after all this time. It makes me wonder about people who lay claim to years of lifestyle experience (and therefore expertise), because I've got years, and I continue to fall far short of any sort of reasonable mark or level of achievement or expertise...

I am lucky. I belong to One who is completely comfortable in His own skin, and utterly sure of who He is. For Him, the question of who is in control within our dynamic doesn't come up at all. He knows the answer. He doesn't invest a lot of effort or energy into "controlling" me. I think, by now, that He understands that I do this wild gyrating spin every now and then. When I get too far out of bounds for His taste, He tightens things back up and puts me back where He thinks I belong. It isn't something that makes Him particularly "happy," but it also doesn't present Him with huge angst or emotional issues either. He seems to tackle it as some sort of needed, routine maintanance; like changing the oil in the car...

He's begun to talk in ways that indicate that we are probably coming into that kind of cycle here. I know enough to know what that will mean (in general terms). Almost certainly (as life settles a bit), there will be more intense, higher end SM play -- and most certainly that will be styled in ways that He enjoys. Other subtle and perhaps not so subtle shifts in our daily lives may show up as well. I expect there will be far less effort or attention invested in doing things that are aimed at "making me happy," because, as He has noted, "That doesn't really seem to work for us anyway." There's just a hint of exasperation and accusation in that comment. Really, though, I think it is mostly Him talking to Himself about what He sees and what He will be doing about it all.

I feel open and fearful and eager and quiet and focused and somehow calmer than I've been for a very long time. I am aware of the heaviness that I've been carrying around with me, and of the promise of being able to lay it down soon.

It isn't time yet. We are still working on recovering and grieving. The pace of our lives has dropped into an odd timeless place where everything is driven by the subtle and not so subtle ebbing and flowing of grief. That has its own schedule. There is really no way to predict what it will be from day to day. No way for any of us to control that.

Waiting. Breathing. Being in place to serve as needed for now.

swan