I’m in that place where I’m restless again. Wanting to write but not knowing where to start. Wanting to cry but not able to make my eyes let go of the pressure they have been holding.
There is something to be said about growth in relationships. How beautiful it can be, yet how absolutely devastating it can also be. When your running in place. When stagnation sets in and all you can feel is a weariness that makes your heart and bones ache, that chills you to your core.
Then one day it’s just cold. Frozen. Something that once held so much warmth. Is just, there.
For a while it feels like your watching yourself from far far away. Trying to hold it up, do the things, wait to resurface. And you just keep sinking farther and farther down. Not knowing how to pull your way back up.
Then your lungs give out, and you scream. Thrashing around as they fill with water and no one notices. Eventually it doesn’t hurt. Eventually you just, float.
I think we both got to that point. A mixture of auto piglet and grim resignation. Watching us both slip further and further away. Me to others, him to his games. We just let currents take us further and further apart.
It’s a fucking shame. When the babygirl grows out of the role. Wants more of a man, less of someone in constant need of direction, someone involved. It’s hard, because there was a point when he housed and held all my soft bits, and helped put them back to something half normal, half acceptable. He helped me find myself, learn to accept myself, showed me how to be strong.
And now I’m the one walking away.
It feels like the ultimate betrayal. It has me looking at myself like I’ve failed somehow. And yet, I know we just grew in different directions.
There is a mourning here. The little inside of me wants nothing more then to curl around his feet and sob. The woman in me knows, eventually I stand up, and it’s always upon the standing that the reality sits in.
I want a home with two involved partners. Where one, my sub or not, doesn’t shoulder most of the things. Where both my partners are intimate with me relatively often. One where my children get the gift of multiple loving engaged parents
I’ve tried asking for more involvement. Biting my tongue. Leaning on my s type live in. Being more subby myself in moments of desperation. Having him beat me so I no longer think. But eventually I always do. And it’s always the same.
We are different.
Every live in partner I have had grows to resent the amount of upkeep they do as it’s not equal. I grow to feel like the only person I fuck is my other partner.
My daddy sits on the other side of a door, headphones on, and lets the world turn around him. Let’s me rotate around him. Somewhere along the way I grew up. And it’s absolutely breaking me.
To outgrow my shelter.
To build my own.
To break my safe place.
In order to grow there has to be change. I just wish we could have grown together. Beside one another, without one of us having to drag the other along.
Thank you, for showing me my strength. For loving me when I felt no one could. For tolerating my indecision. For helping me grow.
I will always love you daddy.
Lips of a Soul 