Warning: This post will be different. It will be deep and reflective. Soul-baring.
Just sayin’. No kink today. Consider yourself warned…
It’s not in my nature to put my innermost feelings out there. I am an outgoing, bubbly person who will talk to most anyone. I am confident. I love meeting new people. But I typically keep them at surface level.
I love to dive deeper into others, just not into myself.
I have always been a bit guarded. My mother is primarily the culprit. From an early age, she made me suspicious and suspecting of people and their motives. And although I am friends with many, I trust few. Which leads me to the point of this post….
Here I am.
Looking for a person to dominate me. To take control of me. To consume me.
Me, the one who has trust issues.
Me, the one who likes to keep things on a surface-level. Not too deep. Deep enough to swim, but I have to be able to touch the bottom.
And I have had some great experiences. I have learned so much about myself.
I know what I like by trying things I don’t. I feel this is the best teacher for me.
I know that I am capable of pushing some serious limits. And even with betrayal, I know I have the capacity to trust deeply.
Which leads me to this…
I, who scorns the concept of true love, who scoffs at the mention of it….
I have an immense capacity to love another.
And this epiphany did not come from falling in love. It did not come from any of my suitors.
It came to me. Little old me. This gift of realization.
I realize that my real need is not to be dominated. Or to be controlled.
My need is to give myself completely to someone I feel is worthy of me.
Someone worthy of my love.
My need is not to be loved and adored, but to love and adore another.
Shamelessly (gosh it’s painful to write this word…but it’s true)
Submission to love.
And it all came to me this morning. Crystal clear.
My middle child was sick today, so I stayed home with him. We were returning from a morning errand and ran into my next door neighbor. She is an elderly woman, who obsessively sweeps her driveway. It gives her purpose. (Wish she would do mine…I am sure it must bother her.)
We began talking and my son showed her his collection of coins. He is saving for yet another Lego set, and he is proud of his resolve.
She said, “I’d like to add to that. Give me just a minute.”
She disappeared into her house and reemerged with a spaghetti jar filled with coins. She held the jar as if it were priceless. As if it were an heirloom. And then…
She proudly handed the jar to my son, who was giddy with excitement.
She told me with tears in her eyes, “This was his jar. I want your son to have it.”
“His” jar? And then I recalled who he was. Her son. The one who committed suicide when he was a teenager. The one she still grieves for so many years later.
It dawned on me in some way, this jar that she has kept for almost 30 years, signified her love for her son. It was a reminder of him.
And she just gave it all away.
To a little six year old, who was overjoyed by the gesture.
So what does this have to do with submission? What does any of this have to do with my journey?
I realized at that moment that I need more than a mere scene. More than a scenario. I need to give all of myself to someone.
I need to purge my soul into someone.
I need to hand over with unabashed feeling, my jar of coins.
What freedom I feel in knowing my task. (And it’s true, most subs love a task)
Knowing now, what it is that I truly seek.
My eyes are open. And so is my heart.