So this writing funk I mentioned two posts back. . . yeah, it started about mid-July and for about a month I couldn’t quite place what it was. I just didn’t feel an energy to get on my computer for any reason. It wasn’t just my blog and my “private” me (the one that blogs and corresponds with a handful of “email buddies” met via this blog). But even the “public” me – the one with Facebook, surfing YouTube, and chatting with IRL friends, as well the one who surfs various news, Twitter, etc. I had this need to just stay away from it all. Part of it was PTSD – President Trump Stress Disorder, but that was only a part of it.
ACTIVE SUBMISSIVE MINDSET
My submissive mindset has always been very “active.” Three-plus years of actively pursuing the “right” level of submission. Actively looking for validation – little mental markers or milestones as evidence that I was on the right path. Activity looking for feedback from Mike to make sure we stayed calibrated in understanding each other’s needs. Actively needing to reconcile the “threat” submission has to my upbringing and society norms.
It also included actively guiding Kayla on her journey. I worry about her and want to make sure she is being fulfilled, both in her relationship with me and with Mike, as well as feeling good about herself.
All this “active” efforts kept me focused on my submissive journey, a journey that has been fulfilling beyond all expectations. And these efforts compelled me to want to share my journey and project my joy on to others via my writing.
PASSIVE SUBMISSIVE MINDSET
Well, lately I’ve felt more of a passive mindset. As I stated in that prior post, I feel we have found the right level of domestic discipline, or D/s dynamic that works best for us. I no longer have a need for validation every step of the way, for I am here, no more steps, and my validation is that I am happier and more secure as a wife, mom, and person than I have ever been.
Additionally, Mike and I have basically “institutionalized” our calibration process. That is, we don’t have to think about it. It just happens. The Maintenance Sessions and continued open and honest communication is a reflex that doesn’t require effort. It just happens!
I don’t feel submission is a threat to my upbringing or social norms. Better yet, I don’t feel my submission threatens my upbringing. I was taught to pursue my passion and love life, every moment, every day. While I am sure my mom didn’t think my passion would include submission, the great thing about how I was raised is that I was left to define my own passion. Further, being open to my friends and family about my submission and not being rejected for it has further reconciled any “threats” I once felt ( far from rejected, it has led to others opening up about their own “kinks” or “unique” relationship dynamics).
Lastly, Kayla has grown tremendously. The once awkward and sullen wallflower now exudes a confident, shining personality and inner beauty. She had just turned 22 when she moved in with us, and will be 24 in a few months. A great age for a lot of personal growth and maturity, with or without my influences. I don’t see her as that little girl in need of protection. I see her as a young woman who can hold her own and who knows who she is, what she wants, and how to get it.
The result is my submissive mindset is now a bit more passive. Don’t mistake that for docile or disinterested. It connotes a level of acceptance that is void of resistance or effort. It just is!
WHAT PASSIVE SUBMISSION IS LIKE
I still can’t fully describe it, but perhaps I can describe what it isn’t. There isn’t this yearning, this ache for something that seems just beyond my grasps. It is comfortable, it is automatic, it is a reflex. And yes, it is still just as fulfilling as the “active” submission.
I was already feeling it a few weeks prior to Immersion. It struck me during a spanking (hee hee, a little spanking humor). Simply, I wasn’t feeling like a spanking. I mean, it isn’t like I typically look forward to one, but, they always have the effect of feeding my submissive mindset. In this case, I wasn’t feeling like it served that purpose. It was simply a consequence of my actions, and not a part of making me feel submissive.
That sounds subtle, but that was huge for me. I still can’t quite articulate what the difference is. I can only repeat it in various forms — I fully accepted the spanking as a consequence of my actions, not as a result of my submission. I was being punished because I earned the punishment, not because I was submissive. That all just feels soooo different to me. I felt equally fulfilled, but just different. Again, I can’t explain it (which means my next post will probably be an attempt to do so!)
THE EPIPHANY CANING
We had just dropped J off at my parents and returned home. It was Maintenance Sunday and our plan was to have a normal evening and start our Immersion in the morning. Mike gave a Maintenance spanking using the cane.
He struck me about six or seven times, a couple more than normal for a Maintenance, and a bit harder than usual. Then he said he wasn’t satisfied with the results and he repeated the six or seven strikes, a bit harder than the first set. I had to grit my teeth and squirmed a bit as they were starting to really hurt. He inspected my ass and again said “not good enough, one more set.” And he repeated the strikes, even a bit harder than the previous set.
By this point it was really hurting and my increased whimpering turned into tears. I didn’t know why he was giving such an aggressive Maintenance. Then he said he still wasn’t satisfied and there needed to be a few more really hard ones. My thought, which I kept to myself was, “like those last ones weren’t hard enough?” I got three more and really started to cry. He then said that was enough.
I don’t know what came over me, but, I asked him if he would repeat the Maintenance. Not just the last strokes, but all of them. That meant another 20-25. I’ve never had so many with the cane. Mike asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I told him, “Not now, can you just do it?”
Mike complied. I ended up a crying, sobbing mess. I hadn’t cried that hard in a very long time. It was a pretty monumental cry. And my butt looked as you would expect. Very striped and very red and soon purple.
What was that about?? Next post.