"Things are changing -- Have changed."
That's what He told me late last night as we sat, together, on the patio enjoying a lovely, late summer evening. He's right of course. It is a verdict that I have pushed away; a judgement that I've tried to avoid hearing for a really long time. But, after yet another in-session meltdown yesterday morning, and the awful, difficult, painfully distant, and scary hours that inevitably ensue, the truth was simply inescapable. Fifty-three is not forty-six. When it comes to SM, I am not able to do what I could do a few years ago. I still have the cravings, and I still have the desire to please Him, but I don't end up feeling "fulfilled" (His word), or turned on, or sexy, or powerful, or even successful most of the time. I feel hurt. I feel exhausted. I feel sad.
I have battled and struggled to try and get that old feeling back, but it isn't there. Just as Yoda
advised Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, " Do or do not. There is no try." All that trying gets me basically nowhere. I might as well not have bothered. I remember when He used to beat the living daylights out of me, and I'd roar with the energy, and float on the endorphin mix. No more. Hardly ever happens anymore. I hang on, and I grit my teeth, and I try to remember to breathe, and I work really hard to stay put and be good. Then, usually, we make love, and, if I'm really good at it, He achieves release. Not me. Not more than now and then -- every few months maybe. I can't ever avoid, for very long, the sense that there is no real payback, or at least not enough of a payback, and that tends to bring up feelings of anger, sadness, and resentment. Not a recipe for a good scene, and not something that I am able to hide from Him for very long. And He loves me, so setting off that chain of emotions isn't something that He chooses to do most of the time.
Harder still -- He hasn't changed. All of His drives, desires, and fantasies are still exactly what they were "back then."
So. There is love. There is our undeniable, unshakable, unbreakable connection. I will, of course, continue to care for Him, and serve Him, in all the ways I have for years. I will cook His meals, and take care of His laundry, and manage His pills. I will handle the household finances, and make sure that the C-Pap is cleaned and set up every single night. I'll keep Him apprised of where I am and when I'll be home (or gone), just as I always have. I'll obey and I'll defer and I'll listen and speak with the same kind of respect. I'll be His, when and as He chooses to have that be the reality, but it isn't ever going to be what it was.
All of that seems just about like what any wife would say -- except, of course, I'm not "a wife." It surely doesn't seem that there is much there that would entitle me to claim the title of "slave" as I have for the last number of years. That label feels dishonest to me. So, I don't know what anyone will call me from here on out -- assuming anyone feels the need to "call" me anything at all. There's just no easy label for the place that my life has come to.
I imagine, there will still be words to write here, but it is time to acknowledge the truth. There may still be some BDSM in our world, but I don't know what that is going to look like, and I don't have any idea what I'll have to say about it all, and I can't imagine that it will be of any interest to anyone who is really "into" the lifestyle. We'll go forward, as family. Whatever else there is, will be seen in time.
swan/sue
That's what He told me late last night as we sat, together, on the patio enjoying a lovely, late summer evening. He's right of course. It is a verdict that I have pushed away; a judgement that I've tried to avoid hearing for a really long time. But, after yet another in-session meltdown yesterday morning, and the awful, difficult, painfully distant, and scary hours that inevitably ensue, the truth was simply inescapable. Fifty-three is not forty-six. When it comes to SM, I am not able to do what I could do a few years ago. I still have the cravings, and I still have the desire to please Him, but I don't end up feeling "fulfilled" (His word), or turned on, or sexy, or powerful, or even successful most of the time. I feel hurt. I feel exhausted. I feel sad.
I have battled and struggled to try and get that old feeling back, but it isn't there. Just as Yoda
advised Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, " Do or do not. There is no try." All that trying gets me basically nowhere. I might as well not have bothered. I remember when He used to beat the living daylights out of me, and I'd roar with the energy, and float on the endorphin mix. No more. Hardly ever happens anymore. I hang on, and I grit my teeth, and I try to remember to breathe, and I work really hard to stay put and be good. Then, usually, we make love, and, if I'm really good at it, He achieves release. Not me. Not more than now and then -- every few months maybe. I can't ever avoid, for very long, the sense that there is no real payback, or at least not enough of a payback, and that tends to bring up feelings of anger, sadness, and resentment. Not a recipe for a good scene, and not something that I am able to hide from Him for very long. And He loves me, so setting off that chain of emotions isn't something that He chooses to do most of the time.Harder still -- He hasn't changed. All of His drives, desires, and fantasies are still exactly what they were "back then."
So. There is love. There is our undeniable, unshakable, unbreakable connection. I will, of course, continue to care for Him, and serve Him, in all the ways I have for years. I will cook His meals, and take care of His laundry, and manage His pills. I will handle the household finances, and make sure that the C-Pap is cleaned and set up every single night. I'll keep Him apprised of where I am and when I'll be home (or gone), just as I always have. I'll obey and I'll defer and I'll listen and speak with the same kind of respect. I'll be His, when and as He chooses to have that be the reality, but it isn't ever going to be what it was.
All of that seems just about like what any wife would say -- except, of course, I'm not "a wife." It surely doesn't seem that there is much there that would entitle me to claim the title of "slave" as I have for the last number of years. That label feels dishonest to me. So, I don't know what anyone will call me from here on out -- assuming anyone feels the need to "call" me anything at all. There's just no easy label for the place that my life has come to.
I imagine, there will still be words to write here, but it is time to acknowledge the truth. There may still be some BDSM in our world, but I don't know what that is going to look like, and I don't have any idea what I'll have to say about it all, and I can't imagine that it will be of any interest to anyone who is really "into" the lifestyle. We'll go forward, as family. Whatever else there is, will be seen in time.
swan/sue
