Losing my desires

I originally posted this to my Fetlife (the kinky social network) and wanted to share it here as well…

I was talking with a friend yesterday and he suggested that I need to start speaking up for what I want or don’t want. He was specifically talking about speaking up before and after a scene, not about in life in general. But it got me thinking about how I am in general. I defer to others in most situations to the point where I am not honest about what I want. I cannot tell whether or not I have always been this way though I think probably not. Looking back over the last eight years, I can understand how it came to be, at least with one person in my life.I became active on Fetlife about a year ago. This was approximately two months before the day I was supposed to get married. My interest in BDSM has long been a part of me, but I didn’t consistently try to do something with it until a year ago (Fetlife has made it so much easier). I went into chat rooms at different times in my twenties, became a phone sex operator and as such, an infrequent phone submissive and nearly daily phone dominatrix, met someone through collarme.com in my mid-twenties (not much happened as our personalities clashed), and finally, met my ex fiance. He happened to be pretty vanilla minus the fact that he enjoyed putting his hand over my throat during sex.

We went through ups and downs, as people in relationships do. We were generally happy, especially near the end. Still, there was something wrong throughout. His will to do what he wanted, in all things was pretty strong. His willingness to do things he *didn’t* want to do was equally strong. At first, I fought it. I stood my ground about not wanting children. I kept my feet planted on the issue for years and it was a common topic of discussion. It became a point to check in on and we knew we were either going to break up if I didn’t change my mind or I would reconsider and we would marry. I argued with him about taking vacations I wanted to take, about going to restaurants I wanted to go to, about going out and doing things and about seeing friends. I rarely won these arguments- not because he was all that hard to sway, it was probably more because I wanted him to be happy and I couldn’t stand his sour puss or pout. I wanted him to *want* to do the things I was interested in. We just weren’t that great of a match on paper; he is a politically conservative, gun-owning, hunter who loves to camp (and camp and camp) and hates to eat out and travel and I am liberal (though not all that political), afraid of guns, a world traveler who loves to eat out and though I enjoyed camping very much, it is not my style of vacationing. Our relationship worked because our temperaments aligned perfectly, our sense of humor was a match and we fell in love.

The time between my 25th and 26th year on earth were rough due to a lifelong illness I suffer from. The illness was at its worst at that time and very bad things happened. My ex was by my side through the entire thing. I never felt I was at risk of losing him despite all the difficulties that I experienced that year. The hardships we suffered climaxed at the end of that year and when I felt completely defeated and weak, all I saw was my ex, standing by me. I came home from my last hospital stay, entered our living room and all I could think of was him and what he did for me. At that moment and for the next six years, I stopped fighting him. I decided I wanted to give him everything he wanted. I decided, just as quickly as I sat down on our couch and took a breath that I would have kids with him. That I would marry him.

My illness got better. The onset of it came when I was a child, at a time when doctors didn’t commonly prescribe medication for it to children. I started taking medicine when I was about fifteen, but it wasn’t until about six months after the last time I was in the hospital, eleven years later, that my doctor and I found the right medication. I started feeling whole, but as I said, I was done fighting. I stopped going out to eat; I stopped going out altogether. We went camping and didn’t entertain the idea of a different kind of vacation. We were happy and I was blessed to have him, but I think I was a model of who I used to be. I looked the same, but I had molded myself into what he wanted me to be.

Years passed and I remained the same. My ex proposed in October 2010 and I said yes. Over the next ten months, I did what every bride does and planned a wedding. As a kid, I never dreamed up my day as a princess and as I grew up I didn’t aspire to be a wife or mom. When I decided to marry my ex, I thought I’d like to elope or have a backyard wedding; me in a red dress looking into my ex’s eyes and promising him the world in front of twenty or so of our closest friends and family. When it came time to plan, my ex’s desires were so far from mine that the wedding day turned into an odd combination of what we both wanted and just enough of what I didn’t want that it sort of made me ill. I got a dress to match the venue; white and flowing and did all the things necessary to make it happen.

I was stressed. I *was* excited too, but something else was moving me. I wanted to feel release. I wanted to lose control. I wanted to explore the BDSM world in some way. My sister had sent me the link to Fetlife around the time that I got engaged. Even back then, I had leaving my ex on my mind. It was tucked back in a part of my brain that I hardly knew existed. I imagine it was gagged, bound and probably behind a door, but still it screamed. Flickers of thoughts of leaving came and went as I bought the white dress in October, secured the venue in November, sent the invitations in December and worked on all the other details in the months that followed.

It wasn’t until June or July 2011 that I started perving Fetlife. I thought about how this desire to be submissive had long been inside me and kept popping up in the years behind me. I knew I wanted to be with my ex; at least I knew I loved him. I thought I would like the life he wanted for us- even if it included children, but I was sure I wanted something else too. I thought I ought to address it before we married. I talked with him and we decided together that I could look for a dominant to mentor me.

I found the perfect match in my mentor. He questioned me, listened intently to my responses and questioned me again. And again and again. He got in my head and as he looked around inside my brain, he found that gagged, bound and locked away part of me and released it. I left my ex a month and two days before our wedding. The decision wasn’t too hard once I allowed myself to think about it enough, but the remaining feelings torture me. I feel terrible guilt and sadness over leaving him and even anger at myself for not figuring out what I wanted sooner. I wonder if I hurt him or ruined his chances for a family (as he is older now). The weird thing is that *I* feel free. Not free in the sense that I was hurt by him in some way. I was oppressed by my own doing. I am free to be true to myself and he is free to find someone to share the life that *he* wants.

So here I am a year later. The details of the last year are important, but not so much when it comes to the point of this post. That is for another post, to be written at another time, perhaps. The point is that now I can take the time to figure out what I want for myself each day, hour and minute as well as longterm. What I am afraid of is that I will continue to defer to others, even when my desires and decisions are necessary. Additionally, I am concerned, as my friend is, that I will have trouble speaking up and saying what I want or don’t want in a scene. Again, another post, another time.