One of the biggest changes that I have seen in the last year as we have started this D/s transition is honesty from myself. In the past, I have stayed quiet. When I wanted something, need something, felt hurt or ignored, I was quiet. I guess I expected him to read my mind. And when he didn’t, I would sulk. I would punish him because I didn’t feel comfortable talking to him. A train wreck in slow motion, to be sure.
But I am getting better though. Case in point was last night. I have been stewing in my fears that mother’s day was going to be completely glossed over. Mother’s day was pretty big in my house growing up. We always saw one of the grandmothers and did a brunch. My father and brother and I gave my mom a gift and card. Dad would take us shopping or help us come up with ideas of things she would like and then buy it for us while we were at school. My mom had time to relax. I thought, rather ignorantly, that that was just what every family did. So the last few years, since my first son was born and I became a mom myself, I thought that Sir just didn’t care. We would see my mom or his mother, they would give me a card, but that was it. I still came home to a pile of dishes and laundry. Relaxation was never something that I had. This time last year, we had just found out we were moving and the weekend was spent packing with my parents. Being five months pregnant didn’t help either.
But now I have a rule. I am not allowed to know anything that Sir doesn’t know. So stewing isn’t really acceptable anymore. And last night my fears just came out and I had to talk to him. I wanted to talk to him. And I told him I was worried about being disappointed on Sunday, which ran the risk of being bitter on Monday. Something else that was no longer acceptable.
I understand that within this dynamic, I don’t have a right to demand to feel special. I take what Sir gives me and I am happy about it. But as a mom, I want to feel appreciated for the things that I do. I think that this year it hits me a little harder. We are done having children, which is fine. But my babies will never be babies again, and having a day each year, to remember what I, as a mom, am willing to give everything for is beautiful.
I just want a day when I am not a slave first.
It was hard to say. I was crying because I felt so guilty asking for it from him. And he listened. He explained that Mother’s day wasn’t a big thing in his childhood. He didn’t understand that he had been lacking. Because, of course, I had never told him. But he heard me out. He said he would try. He will do his best to make me feel special. He wants me to feel special more than just one day a year. I felt horrible. I was making him feel bad for not making me feel special. What kind of a slave does that make me?
I know he cares. He loves me very much and he appreciates my work as a mother, slave and partner. And by being upfront with him about my expectations and needs, he has a much better chance to show that in a way that I will understand. Because he does want me to be happy, and I need to make sure that I let him.