Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Techniques to Self-Domination

Don’t you love how the title of my post makes it seem like I know what I’m talking about. Please don’t be fooled; I’m just reaching in the dark here.

It’s amazing to me how many realizations I have when I just talk out loud. Thinking about things in my head usually sends me in circles and it’s not until I have to explain it or clarify something that I usually reach a startling conclusion. So, with that in mind I was talking to Sir on the drive down to the new house on Saturday. We were talking about those things that make us feel complete. And I realized, as we chatted, that submission does that for me. That moment when I kneel at his feet and look up into his eyes, I feel like I am exactly where I am meant to be.

But reality is a crappy mistress. Even more so than my sadist husband most of the time. And I have to learn to deal with that. But it’s hard when you know where you’re supposed to be. What you’re supposed to be doing. But you can’t get there. There is a line of obstacles and responsibilities that lie in your way. And I hate the idea that I look at my children as a burden that keeps me from my true purpose. However, I gave up on the mom of the year award a long time ago. And I love them, so as far as responsibilities go, it’s not so tragic.

So I need to figure out where to go from here. I can’t wait for those odd moments to make me happy. I need to make them for myself. But how? How do I give myself what I need? Isn’t that a crazy question. Shouldn’t I be able to quickly come up with a solution?

Maybe I can find a way to be my own dominant. Make my own rules. The only problem is when I get into a spiral of punishing myself. A slippery slope that I’ve gotten into before. But I can’t quit trying. I have to hold myself to a standard rather than just expecting Sir to do it for me. I guess a good submissive should be able to take care of themselves. And I can. Maybe I just don’t want to. I want him to take care of me, so I fight against taking care of myself.

A week of family and comfort food seems like a good place to reorient my thinking. Maybe coming up with my own tips to help me take on my own inadequacies. Find the dominant inside to make myself complete, all by myself.

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