Sometimes it feels to me like kink is a burden. It is rarely sated; always craving more. Spans of time without it make me cranky and sad. The weight of it sometimes makes me wish I was vanilla. To be happy with occasional missionary position sex and a chest of drawers filled with linens rather than impact toys. Maybe being vanilla would be easier than what me and family has to go through.
I feel the weight of my kink on others too. Sir feels like he has to be more and better all the time. I love him just as he is; I don’t want him to change for me. But kink demands satisfaction. I ignore as much as possible, but eventually I get down. That shouldn’t be his responsibility to fix. If I could just be happy with what he wants then our relationship would be smoother on every level.
Also, in a weird way, my parents and vanilla friends are affected. They can tell that I’m different, but they don’t know why. They ask if I’m writing and I fake an answer. I want to be able to say, ‘yes, everyday, and I have a blog’. But that’s not really an option. I can’t tell them that I’m riding high after a great scene or that I’m bummed after disappointing Sir. My mood swings have increased since we stopped 24/7. And while I have been able to blame the move and job search in the past, I am running out of viable excuses. When they notice and I can’t tell them the truth I feel awful.
I can’t get out from under the weight of it sometimes. Often, I don’t want to. I love BDSM and what it has given me. I love each of my current kinks and all the things I have yet to try. But when I see it negatively impacting other people, it hurts. I don’t want my lifestyle to hurt or make things harder for anyone. And when it does I wonder if my happiness is worth it.
Walking away isn’t that easy though. It’s more of a Pandora’s box kind of deal. You don’t just get to shove those thoughts and feelings away and pretend it never happened. At least that’s not an option that I have. You may be able to push them down, but you still have to carry that weight. It’s still a part of you; you are just choosing to ignore it.
I don’t think I could do it. I would just stare at that box that held all my deepest desires and wonder. What’s the point of living half a life? Even if it’s not always perfect. Even if sometimes the weight is too much and I get frustrated by it. At least I am living a full life as me. I am being as honest and open as I can be.
That is the only way the weight will lessen and I will grow. Until, eventually, the box will disappear and only the truest version of myself will remain.