Sometimes I don’t realize what I’m missing until I have it. ExperiencingÂ The Composer‘s pride & delights in my achievements brought to the fore of my thoughts today the fact that my previous dominants seemed very much to focus on making certain my achievements were put into “proper perspective.” Underscoring that I was no better than the other people in their lives, to make sure that I was reduced enough as to not be perceived as a threat to these other women. Â After a lifetime of being told I was gifted, talented, special, of working against some pretty skewed odds as a Black girl in the USA, the idea of being reminded that I was “not any better than anyone else” hit me at a root level I’m still unraveling and excavating. I am sure I will unearth more layers as I explore this old ache.
This is a complex issue for me. Logically I understand we all need to feel valuable. And logically I have a hard time understanding why people feel the need to tear others down or reduce their standing in order to feel better about ourselves. Can’t I be a fucking badass in my way without somehow impacting the badassery of others? Â Can you not love me and elevate me at the same time?: Can you not see how difficult it is for me to believe – truly believe – I am a valuable, beautiful, strong, unique creature worthy of love when a scant 7 years ago I was resolved to drink myself to death in a piss-stained bed?
The reality is? Â I am needy. I need attention. Focus. Touch. An entire fucking cheerleading section and I need my love to be proud of me, and to shore me up when I stumble in my work to stand on my own self-worth with unfettered resolve.
I sincerely believe that we all need to shore ourselves up by dint of our own self-worth, regardless. By comparing ourselves to others, by permitting ourselves to be comforted around our own compromised self-worth because the playing field is leveled by devaluing someone else’s achievements, we do ourselves a grave disservice.
Also, it fucking sucks.
In exploring the D/S dynamic The Composer and I are navigating, it occurred to me that the impulse I had to evoke a “Daddy/girl” dynamic in our explicitly sexual play had a broader appeal. The master/slave dynamic has a good grounding for me in terms of power exchange, and yet the additional layer of a benevolent paternalism feels very right to me. Everything I achieve is something of which he can be proud. Nothing I do detracts from his dominance, his developing sense of what it means to have ownership and sway over another human being. And I am deeply motivated to do more and go further when I know I will receive the praise and pats that go along with someone having pride in me, even as I am so proud of them.
I’m mourning, a bit, for this part of me that was neglected in the past and, of necessity, put to rest so that the neglect wouldn’t burn and corrode. I can take a step toward a deeper trust because I know that, in addition to the power dynamic The Composer and I are developing, there is an acknowledgement of the little Girl who shimmers and glowes when she knows her Daddy is so proud of her.
This is when I fucking love being a filthy, demented pervert, man…when I can sift through the fetid sludge of a lifetime of pain and find a truth that shines so brightly, I am warmed to the core.