Outside the rain is blowing in the wind. The sky is grey and the beautiful bright colours of autumn seem a little…. underwhelming.
Maybe it is just me. I don’t know anymore.
I should be happy. Content at least in my life. I have everything I could need. Yet somehow, I am feeling as if it is all closing in on me…..The constant arguing. The stress. The rushing. The never ending to do list. The fact that everything is so much harder than it could be.
He asked me to marry him again this morning. I didn’t know what to say.
I have his ring already. I wear it on my finger. Ever hopeful that somehow committing to him would cement us, heal the wounds. However papering over the cracks has made very little difference.
I don’t feel this way every day. Sometimes I wake with hope in my heart. As I watch him play with our children, so little still. I wonder how I can be so selfish not to be treasuring these moments, cherishing them? I smile, I laugh. I almost feel guilty for enjoying time spent together.
I don’t want to fail at this. I don’t know if I want to leave. So we continue building a future together. Discussing plans long ahead. Yet in my heart I don’t know if I love him enough to see them through, to deal with the constant criticism, the pressure. I am a hypocrite. Maybe.
He is my Dominant and I feel worse that I am unable to submit properly to him because I am hiding this all inside my heart. If I let down my defences he might break through my facade and uncover the shattering truth of what I am thinking. I haven’t achieved an orgasm with him for years. For a while, before I discovered BDSM, I began to hate it when he touched me. The only thing which began to make it better was the pain play. Now I cling to the endorphins, enjoying the not-thinking as my brain slips as far as I let it. It is the pain induced highs which have kept me going this long. Now I crave it. Need those moments to disappear. Yet sometimes as I come back, I sob, it’s all too much. He doesn’t notice. He hasn’t got the hang of aftercare.
This time of year, it all seems so much harder to manage. I have tried to talk to him about this. I have told him I am unhappy. That I need me time, that I need him to realise everything that I do, how hard this juggling act of our busy life is. I have admitted my own part in this.
All except that I don’t know if I love him enough to keep fighting.
I’m dreading Christmas. I don’t know what to do next.