alliradaye: Someone who’s now seen my butt on his tumblr (eek) asked me if I hated seeing the
alliradaye: Someone who’s now seen my butt on his tumblr (eek) asked me if I hated seeing the pictures of other women he posts, the bruises he’s given them.It’s not my favorite.I’m not jealous of the other girls necessarily; I’m jealous of his attention. His time, his energy, his efforts directed on other girls while I stew in anxiety and wallow in self-pity. I’m also wistfully envious of what they might be experiencing with him and warily curious about what that might. (He tells me sometimes - about how he fucks them and plays with them and lets them cum. Hearing about the things I desperately wish I were allowed but don’t get is harder to bear than the curiosity, so I don’t often ask.) Jealousy is not fun. It’s not fun for me because it’s a raw, base, distracting emotion that makes me flounder in my submission. And I’m sure it’s not fun for him because it makes me sullen and rebellious and tiresome. It’s inescapable sometimes because I’m human, and a very angsty one at that, but I desperately try not to wallow in it for too long. I don’t always succeed. As it is, I cycle through obedience, angst, rebellion, listlessness, epiphany, contrition, acceptance, and renewed obedience - a circadian rhythm of imperfect submission. Jealousy is just one of many things that can set me down the path of angst and anxiety. A prolonged dip in arousal is another. Too much time between his visits yet another. A perceived sharpness in his tone, tasks that seem too hard, changes in the weather, an overwhelming assignment at work… gosh, I falter so often, why does he bother with me? And therein lies the crux of a lot of my angst, I think. Why does he bother with me? But it’s also the reason I fight myself internally to circle back around to obedience.I’ve always been and still remain hopelessly far from perfect in my submission, but I’d like to think that I’ve gotten better over time. Yes, I still cycle through the various phases, but I’m trying to recognize when I’m slipping and untangle my thoughts and emotions more quickly each time. Even though I’d really rather not. Because it’s easier to push aside my emotions: it’s both embarrassing and draining to confront my insecurities and angst and all the accompanying petty thoughts. But I want him to bother with me. Just as I want to be deserving of my rules, I want to be useful and amusing and pleasant and obedient so that he will continue to bother with me. And ultimately, that matters more to me than whatever jealousy I might feel. Not to mention the fact that his displeasure cuts through me much more deeply than whatever unhappiness I might feel about whatever else might be bothering me. — For a while, he tasked me with tagging his tumblr posts. Watching his page for photos of his other girls to tag them as “mine” on his behalf was… something. It wasn’t my favorite task, but I realized something even as I quietly sulked while doing it. I like being useful to him. I like serving. I find comfort and satisfaction in that, and I’m grateful he lets me continue to be useful to him. Sigh, so about this key thing… Devotional Training: Be useful or not bothered. -- source link