It really was like quicksand, the harder I tried to pull myself out, the deeper I went. The worse I felt. The easier it was to cry.
Have I mentioned how much I hate crying? 'Cause I do.
Anyway, it turns out that
I need to trust that he wants to lead as much as I want to follow. Yet, I'm still insecure about this. Really insecure. I'm not sure why; six months ago I would have been thrilled to know I would be here, where we are now.
Now that I'm writing/thinking about it, I think part of my insecurity is derived from the fact that I feel like I need this, and I don't think he does. Sure, he likes it, maybe even loves it, but he could go without. And, you know, part of me wishes I didn't need this either, because what if he would be happier being vanilla, with a vanilla wife. Unfortunately, if he wants to have sex with me (as much as he does), then this is how it has to be. Which makes me feel like dirt. Not only that but, when I have less of his control, like this past week, I feel knotted up (do you know the feeling? I keep picturing a string with millions of tangles, impossible to straighten out. Then, when he does take a hold of this string, moves it this way and that way -which ever way he wants- it magically straightens out, no sign of any tangles, as if they weren't there to begin with), and I start hating myself for wanting such things. Because I shouldn't need them. But I do.
The lessons: I need to stay focused. He is controlling me. I don't need to know where we are going, I just need to know we are going where he wants to go.