It’s been three weeks since Dom Pants cheated. We’ve been through a money hiccup, work stress, a dangerously high fever on his part and head colds for me and Hubby. The normal life things have been happening. We had a fantastic couple of dates out and are planning another on in about a week.
Everything feels back to normal.
And that’s what is so scary. Things happened when everything was normal. There wasn’t a crisis. We hadn’t been growing apart. Everything was good. And that’s why it happened.
I’m afraid of good now.
It’s a fear that I can’t maintain.
It’s one I will not blame him for. It’s a fear that we share now. That’s the awful thing about PTSD. It makes him fear the good things in his life. The safest place for him to be is where everything is falling apart.
That doesn’t make me feel safe.
Safety is in being secure. My mental disorder pulls me apart. it cuts me down. It puts me under constant stress. Everything feels so normal, but I don’t have that security.
And in the end, my service submission is coming out. I want to take care of him. I want to serve him. I need to be his. Totally. In those moments, those ones on my knees, those ones where I get his food, medicine, soda, are the ones where I feel safe.
I can trust him in the moment when we kink. I can trust him with his hand on my throat. I can trust him with his teeth buried in my flesh. I trust him when I serve and worship him. I trust him in moments fiercely.
I flail emotionally when I remember how not normal the situation is. I’m torn between giving into the dynamic that comes so naturally to me, and had been long before this situation, or to approach things without the kink. Try to make good ok again.
Part of me rebels against serving him. Part of me screams that he doesn’t deserve it. But… It’s not about him now is it? It’s about my healing.