It’s hard coming to the understanding that a lot of the problems in your relationship and/or life are caused by you. It’s hard letting go of the anger, hurt and pain. The guilt eats at you. And, if you’re like me, you do whatever you can to deflect the blame from yourself.
I mean, there’s a huge difference between the self-loathing, “Everything I touch turns to shit.” type thoughts and actually understanding that you are the cause of a lot of your problems.
It’s exponentially more difficult letting go of the things the other person did cause and just working on what you know you need to fix. Owning your own shit and leaving the other person to theirs. Realizing that you can’t fix them; they have to fix themselves. Especially with the very real possibility every couple has of one party evolving without the other looming over your head.
As I’ve said before, I could go on forever with “Well if He’d stop taking His hands off the wheel…” and “If He’d only do it this way…” and “If He’d try harder to be less grumpy…” and…
The thing is, even if I wasn’t a slave it wouldn’t be my place to try to control or change Him. That’s not the way love is supposed to work. When you fall in love with someone, you’re supposed to fall in love with who they are. Not who you think you can make them into.
And I am in love with who Master is. The problem here isn’t that I’ve lost sight of that or that He’s someone different or that I thought I could change Him. The problem is that He’s not allowed to be who He is very often anymore.
He works all the time.
We haven’t been hiking since… before my birthday? We haven’t gone Geocaching since just after my birthday last year. The only time either of us sees sunlight that’s not blocked by a pane of glass is when we’re walking from the house to the bus or from the bus to the store or His job.
I’ve gained thirty pounds, so, naturally, I’m freaking out again about my size and health and aesthetic appearance. But this time, I’m being careful not to allow my failings to drag me back into that pit of wallowing despair. And I’m not allowing myself to take my failings out on Him. He didn’t cause them. He hasn’t, until recently, done much to correct them, but He shouldn’t have to stand over me, whip in hand, instructing me in how to conduct my day to get me to actually do something about the things I want to change.
We talked yesterday about how sometimes I need that. How sometimes I need to be micromanaged and forced and abused to behave. And how sometimes I don’t necessarily need it but I really, really crave it. And how I’ll push Him till He hits me on purpose instead of just asking to be played with.
I think somewhere in my mind I got my wires crossed. I think I decided negative attention to my inner masochist was better than no attention to my inner masochist and I started trying to bring out the sadist in Him through His anger instead of His pleasure. To quote Master, “That’s not good.”
I feel so cliche, right now. Lol.
I keep fucking up, though. Like just now. Instead of saying to the neighbor, “I’ve gotta talk to M.” I continually told her I was busy and then still somehow managed to get myself roped into helping her with something.
With her, I don’t say “I gotta talk to M.” I don’t say it because I know that, nine times out of ten, His answer is going to be no. Easier to say, “I’m busy.” than tell her He said no every time she asks me to do something with her.
Course, then she’d probably stop asking. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. I mean, I don’t dislike her and the times we have gone out with her we’ve had fun. But her not asking me to do things with her all the time would save me the trouble of saying no all the time.
Blah. It’s hard to be a friend when you’re a slave.