Passiveness

At work, there is this position, a one rung up the ladder step up in authority. I could have had it. I could have been the "lead". But you know I did not want it... at all. I know that there was a time that I could have done it, perhaps better than any of the others that are eligible for the job. But now, more and more, I am becoming uncomfortable with confronting people. Even when I am totally convinced I am right and they are wrong... even dangerously wrong... I would rather not say anything.

I think it is a mix of cynicism, the fatalistic belief that any effort on my part would be futile, would not be listened to. And part, not wanting to take on the weight of being right. And part... a big part... the fact I am changed. He has changed me. I am not so invested in being right. Less convinced that there is even a right or wrong way to do things.

It has spread through my thinking. It distorts my perspectives... I watch my peers do things totally against policy, things potentially dangerous and counter to all my beliefs and training and when I ask... "why are you doing it that way"... and they make rationalizations that carry no weight with me. And then I just blink and shrug and say, "Okay." And walk away.

Sometimes I do a reality check. I will ask someone nominally in charge, "Has this policy changed?" And when they tell me "no", I nod, blink and shrug and walk away. It is just slightly disorienting to have the rules changed or have them disregarded around me. I know that I, on some very basic level, am compromising my values. And by my passive acceptance, am made culpable by my very awareness that others are not following policy and my inability to confront them leaves me standing there doing nothing.

I wonder about this. Is it just the sense of leaderlessness that seems to have taken over the whole school? Is it really that Master has finally, finally softened me, found and exploited my submissiveness to the point that I am uncomfortable with assertion? Is it just the resurgence of dark and rainy weather? Is it the story I am working on, the girl so depressed she cannot think or talk or even notice the passage of time that has taken up residence in my head? Or is it just getting old?

Jebus....

Friday was like many of the Fridays we have been having... a low key day of recovery.

My oldest son and Livie were here to get some more punkins when I got home and we had a nice long talk. There has been some infighting among the other branch of the family and son #1 wanted to talk about it. It seemed pretty trivial to me, the issues are ones that frequently raise their heads among family, religion, sensitivity, tolerance... someone got a little vociferous with opinions, someone else got a little butt hurt. I am sure that there probably was some alcohol to lubricate and fuel the whole thing. None of it had anything to do with me. Thank gawd (not God... chill out... jebus... not Jesus... oh heck... NOT HELL... for Christ's sake can't you peoples just calm down?)

Anyway son #1 was asking me about what to do. I just shrugged and said I would not take any of it very seriously. Act like it was a joke... apologize even if you don't think you did anything wrong... love people for what you can... try to tolerate those parts of them that are not so nice. Move on... be nice... stop sweating the small shit. Bottom line no one can control how others think, feel or act... the only person you can do that for is yourself.

But there was this thing, this message on my machine... (yes, I am sort of retro like that... no cell... no voice mail... just an old dusty machine)... anyway... the message was from son #2 saying that he and wife wanted to come over for dinner on Saturday to chat about something. DIL is a dear girl, I love her to death, but jebus... she can be oversensitive, can create a mountain out of the smallest of molehills, and lubs the drama.

When Master got home I played the message... his first response was "no tea party"... now this requires some explanation. A group of submissive types had been planning an outing to the local Japanese garden and were going to learn about formal Japanese Tea service. I had wrangled permission from Master to be gone... gone on a Saturday afternoon. That was huge. I could tell that he had been chewing on that bone for a few days, trying to find someway to retract that decision and this was the perfect excuse. No company for dinner AND getting to run off for tea parties.

I squalled a bit, did a small stompy dance on the floor right in front of son #1 which made him laugh. I tried a little "but... but... but..." but all that got me was an "AH! AH! AH!" from Master. He was having none of it.

So no tea party...

Saturday dawned clear, bright blue sky, a snap of fall chill in the morning air. Master gave me the option of choosing going for a walk or cycling... I chose a walk. We walked for a long ways..l through neighborhoods we have not gone through before. We talked about this "coming over for dinner and a chat"... talked about what the fuck this is about. Are they in financial trouble again.. need money? Heaven forbid... need a place to live again. Are they going to try and drag us into the little family drama? ...or most horrible to contemplate... are they pregnant?

Not that I don't like grandchildren... I just hope that when people make babies they have a strong family, strong economically and emotionally.

But anyway... Master and I have no idea what this is and our imaginations have been running on overdrive all day.

I got lots of yard work done... chasing the lawn mower around... cleaning out the garden and mulching for next year. Made a nice enchilada dinner with rice, refried beans, salad and cantaloupe. Took a shower and was getting dressed when Master walked and informed me he wanted me to dress intimidating. I had a a cute little sweater dress and he made me put on a pair of black tall boots and other black "intimidating" stuff. So I was all doom and gloom, power suit.

..... cut to two hours later.

Dinner finished, and I am more than a little drunk. They weren't pregnant... so there is a gawd. They wanted "advice" as to how to handle the "other people's" insensitive remarks. I said the same things, that you can't control what other people think, feel or say. That you need to take responsibility for your own feelings and accept people for what they are and not try to change them... about half way through the speech, DIL got her panties in a bunch and walked out.

She threw a comment over her shoulder about how "his family" never liked her, never wanted her around. I threw back that that was a thinking error and crazy fucking bullshit.

So much for my diplomatic skills.

But I am not too upset about it. Master who watched the whole thing said I did not do anything wrong. I drank three glasses of wine with dinner. Four plates... but just Master and I sitting at the table. Master said it was a good dinner.

And you know I am not too worried about the whole thing. I told son #2 that the door is always open but I am not going to mince words or pretend that I don't think she is just a little crazy, but owned the fact that we all gots our own kind of crazy to deal with... welcome to the monkey house. He was pretty sad and worried that we are not accepting her. I told him we accepted her, we just weren't going to change how we act because she don't like what we got to say.

I looked at Master, thinking about how having him there made all the difference for me. He gave me confidence and just the knowledge that I have him... or maybe I ought to say... he has me... makes all the difference in the world. It does not matter if DIL thinks I am the bitch mother-in-law... all I need is his approval. I leaned over and said, "You know what is the most important thing?"

He shook his head.

I said, "I love you very much."

He said, "That is good."

I think I will change into something a little more comfortable and ask for him to put my collar on.

You guys have a good night. Family... jebus.

Thinking, trying, doing

I think about how it started…

I would have the fantasy and deny it.

I would have the fantasy and acknowledge having it, but keep it secret.

I would have the fantasy and accept it.

I would have the fantasy and admit it.

Take a risk and say the words aloud.

Think about doing it.

Talk about doing it.

Try it.

Shy away, too frightened to even believe I enjoyed it.

Think about it.

Try it again.

Admit to myself that I enjoyed it.

Try it again, and again.

Start needing it.

Ask for it.

Try to control it.

Try to confine it within a set of rules.

But rules make a lie of it.

Mock the truth of it.

Tear the heart out of it.

Control it and kill it.

He knew this instinctively,

When I tried to do it by the book,

Write the contract, define the rules, control it,

He became so enraged,

Throwing away the paper,

He refused to even read it.

He was so pissed off that I did not trust him,

Trust his integrity, his wisdom, his love, his limits.

He was furious that I tried to write it all down,

Confine him with words,

Chain him with rules, control him with my doubts.

So here I am without words tying him down,

Trusting, letting go,

Believing in him,

Ennoble him, love him.

Embrace his vision, his power.

It is not enslavement.

It is freedom.

Freedom from fear.

No longer trying it.

Living it.