The worst part of it, the need to protect myself is stronger with people I care about and love. People that know my past. People that I should feel comfortable with. But, you see, those are the people that can hurt me the most...
It's not his fault. He is paying for it though.
I get incredibly insecure at times. It's like an unexpected hurricane that I don't know what to do with.
Little things turn into big things. As in, my world is crumbling, big things. But it's not really, it's the damn hurricane spinning my thoughts into something else.
Like when I find out he hasn't read my blog in a month, I want to go private so he can't read here, ever. Another way of saying, "fuck you, too." I know that is my protective instinct and insecurity lashing out. Obviously, I would only be hurting myself if I went private (especially if he isn't reading here anyway), but in the moment...hurricane.
I'm working on it. I'm working on recognizing it and inching my way through.
He let me sit as his feet a couple nights ago while we were watching a show, Hell on Wheels, on Netflix. I say he "let me" because it feels like a treat to be there when he tells me to, but I can sit on the floor anytime I'd like. He put the leash on me as well. Later that night, the clamps went on--they hurt so fucking bad and he wouldn't let me take them off. He pulled my hair so that my head was tilted back, which ends up pulling the clamps that are attached to my collar. I was sure I'd be half bald and short two nipples by the time we were done (I'm not, btw). And, he was slapping my pussy. All of this was going on at once and I could only feel him and pain, and life was good.
The next day, I was sitting there thinking of how great it felt to have those moments of...being me. And I knew he needed to know how I felt (because you've all told me this). So I had a choice, protect myself, or not.
I humbled myself and sent him a text (I am no where near saying that out loud!).
"Thank you for last night. I needed it."