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I have to think about why I started this to begin with. I know that it doesn't matter much at this point. It is like skydiving and wondering why you jumped out the open door of the plane, when you really should be concerned with pulling the cord and landing safely on the ground. But I wonder anyway. If I can trace how I got here, maybe I can figure out how to move forward.

I am trying to remember what it was that drew me into exploring my submission and what led Him to find me. It's so funny to think back over a year ago because so much has changed. I don't even recognize the life that I used to live. But I remember that I spent a lot of time then reading blogs of other submissive women. I felt a pull. I felt more than mere curiosity. I felt compelled. Everything that I had wondered about myself - why did I have those violent fantasies? why did I hurt myself and like it? - was leading me to this point. Maybe it was my destiny to find submission. And when something is your destiny, you are hard-pressed to figure out the decisions that lead you to where you end up.

All along this path, I have sought something that I wanted, either consciously or subconsciously, and I have pursued it with the faith that the payoff would be more rewarding than the cost. A lot of what I write about here is about the cost of submission - what it takes from me physically and emotionally. The emotional costs are higher than the physical. My body rebounds but my mind is changed forever. It is a subtle form of brainwashing, the making of a woman into a girl into an animal into an object.

Maybe I'm too inscrutable and people think that I don't willingly want to make these sacrifices because of what I write here. Maybe it seems like I don't want to be controlled? For me, control is a double-edged sword: I need it and I crave it and I love it, but it fills me with a sense of existential dread. I can see what control he exerts over me today and I can draw a line to where we're going in the future. I see what's coming next and it makes me afraid. But I've accepted every measure of control, even if it came after a bit of a struggle on my part, and I'd gladly do it again and again.

I've hit a wall and I need to figure out how to get over it. I need to make my peace with my choices and choose to go forward. It is difficult because my emotions are in a tumult. I'm too quickly angered and my tears come too easily lately. I'm not as grounded and rational as I used to be. I've been in this place before and I've made it out. I know depression very well. I've wrapped myself up with it like a warm blanket, only to have it suffocate me. I know there are two paths, one directly out and the other through a breakdown, but either way I've come out of it before. I can do it again.

He knows what is happening with me. That doesn't mean that he's not pushing me, because he is, but he understands. He is helping me reconnect. He had me carry my paddle around with me everywhere for the past few days so that I would be reminded that he loves me and that he owns me, no matter what. I touched it, tucked discreetly inside my bag, whenever I was feeling shaky.

I'm going to end this entry on an open note, because there is no conclusion to this yet. Things are in motion. I am trying. He is working on getting me back to good. I'll be strong again soon, or I won't, but neither of us is going to give up.