Things have been quite heavy in Kitten Land lately. I've been adjusting to his slightly increased control over me. Actually, I've been handling it badly, bratting out and sassing him left and right. That just makes things worse for me in the long run, but I think I'm finally learning the lesson.
Meanwhile, the non-D/s elements of our relationship have been progressing. I'm usually cautious in relationships because I've been burned before, but I've approached our commitment to each other with wild abandon. However, sometimes it catches up with me and I realize just how serious things are between us. That scares me, but he's so reassuring and so steady that I can handle it.
Still, we continue to move forward. I usually see him once during the week and at least once during the weekend for an overnight visit. We have found that that is not enough. So we are taking steps to see each other more often, to share more of our lives together. He is not moving into my home in any official capacity, but his presence will be more pronounced and he will have more of his own space within my space. I hope that by seeing each other more, we can alleviate some of the painful sadness that we both feel when we are apart, waiting to see each other again.
He pointed out to me the other night that, with all of the problems that some couples have, missing each other and loving each other too much are two problems that he'll gladly take. I agree with him and I am valiantly trying to focus on that very rational point of view. I'm focusing on these light, happy thoughts in an effort to avoid being dragged down by sadness or fear. Occasionally I go back and forth between the two, but today I'm coming down on the side of hopefulness and cheer.
To keep myself in this frame of mind, I've started to meditate on a certain feeling from a few nights ago. It was late on a weeknight. He and I had spent most of the early evening relaxing in bed. I wasn't feeling that well, so we didn't have sex, but the time we spent together was just as intimate. At some point, I realized that I was hungry.
"Do you want me to make you something?," he asked.
"I can get something. It's okay." I didn't want him to put himself out, plus I have a hard time accepting help sometimes.
"Kitten, do you want me to make you something?," he asked more persistently, looking at me with serious eyes.
"Okay," I said uncomfortably.
So he settled me onto the couch with a blanket and a DVD of my favorite show and went to work. I napped lightly on the couch as he bustled about in the kitchen. After a time, he came in and brought me my dinner. I sat there happily eating and listening to him hum as he did dishes in the kitchen. I drank some hot tea and felt very safe and small, like a child being cared for on a sick day. I smiled as he came over, drying his hands on a dishcloth, and wrapped me in his arms.
I think of that feeling, I crawl inside it, and I feel stronger. I am stronger.