Submission Disconnected

I feel...disconnected from my submissive self. The part that crawled out into day dreams at an early age. The part that swept into my spirit, encompassing my mind and heart. I always knew it was integral to my core.

Lost isn't the right word for this. It's not gone, for it is me. At least, it's one of my three main inner monologues; and two of them are constantly disagreeing, heh

I think I've been moving toward a survival mindset longer than I realized. I simply sank into and embraced it more recently.

And survival leaves no room for weaknesses, perceived or real. I am oh so vulnerable as a submissive. I'm not in a place where I can allow vulnerability.

Being submissive has blinded me from truths I should have seen, left me burned in ways no heart ache ever could. It is an intoxication.

Somewhere deep inside I know the longing, the craving, the need continues to exist. Just as it always has and always will.

But I can't be that. Not now anyway.

This tough exterior, the survival instincts, and the many walls that have been reconstructed protect a very fragile core.

I can't take any more of my heart breaking and my mind shattering.

So I've fallen back on old habits and tricks that allowed me to survive, during the darkest moments and years. And no, not the Ex. Long before he came into the picture. He stumbled upon already laid ground work, but he was not the worst.

That always surprises people. But I learned from an extremely early age how to survive when everything is falling apart within and without.

Submissive was a dream. An idea that I knew was right, from about age 11 or 12, without the full understanding of why it was so right.

I'll hold onto that dream again, knowing it will get me through this current storm. With the sheer amount of everything catching up to me, I can't...be who I am.

But nothing has held me down forever. I know things will settle into place and I'll find my own weird sense of closure. Until then, I'll dream.