Writing About Writing

I hate this blog sometimes. It can be a lot of pressure. As I come up on a year of posting in this space, I find myself sick of much of what I've written. Some of it seems naive or too serious or too small for this journey that I've been on. It seems like nothing has been accomplished, nothing accomplished at all. I find new submissive blogs every week - well-written blogs authored by talented women - and I can barely bring myself to read them. It's disheartening for me because I used to think of submissive blogs as my lifeline and now...I can't do it. It all seems so repetitive. Are any of us unique in any way? Or are we all isolated in the same experience?

The one goal I have had over the past year is to present my submission unvarnished. There is an ugly side to submission, one borne out of great ambivalence and grief, that exists alongside all of the joyous self-discovery. I've tried not to shy away from that. Even when things were perfect, I never wanted to paint submission as a completely selfless or blissfully transcendent experience. Indeed, that honesty has probably turned off as many readers as it has attracted. It has garnered me many concerned e-mails and comments. Many of you think that I am being abused.

I am sick of fighting that fight. I am sick of justifying and explaining. Maybe I am being abused. Maybe I am complicit in my own abuse, or brainwashed, or deluded. Maybe I am so fucked up that I endure in this relationship that sends up red flags for many of you. Maybe you disagree, and see yourselves in me.

I don't know where to go from here. I've stopped struggling lately. I've let go of a lot of the hang-ups that kept me hung up in the early months and have let Him take me wherever he wants. I don't know if we're going anywhere in particular. Lately we've been swimming in circles. Things don't seem overwhelming and it feels a bit like a relief. We're enjoying this plateau we've reached and I'm not worried about the future or the past. Sometimes I forget the D/s dynamic entirely - it fades into the background even though it's always there - and sometimes it seems almost vanilla in its lack of edge. I like it that way. Maybe we don't need to go anywhere right now. Maybe we just need to live.

My past writing is an unwelcome reminder of all that needless struggle. At this point, I wonder what it was all about. I read all these submissives who are just starting on their journeys and I can't help but feel sad for all of the tears and pain that they will go through before the normalcy sets in. It may seem new and groundbreaking now, but soon they'll all be here, looking back and feeling like it was all for naught. They're exactly where they started.