I think I was always submissive.
No one has ever seen me that way, and would probably think the opposite. I am known as a fighter. People have thought of me as someone who wants things my own way. It isn’t true. It never has been. I just share my thoughts and ideas, while others don’t. The thing I’ve always wanted is someone else to do the same. To stand up to me. To not be afraid of their own thoughts, their emotions, opinions, ideas – their own self.
My husband use to tell me all the time how strong I was. He still does. He would see the fighter in me. I had to learn early in life to survive by fighting. But it never encapsulated the whole of me, and never with him. Underneath it all, I knew what I was really thinking and feeling. I felt like a big, fat liar. I use to disagree with him, arguing – sometimes under my breath, “I’m not who you think I am.” He didn’t know what I meant.
The reality is I can’t become what He doesn’t want for me. I gain confidence in my actions through his support, his desires. When He wants it for me, I can do it. I believe in myself, and it becomes easy. When He specifically doesn’t want something for me, I can’t do it even if I want to. My confidence fails, I sabotage myself without even knowing it.
It goes beyond focused goals, but extends into small, deeper layers of being. My actions, my expressions, my habits. Perhaps even my personality and desires, especially when looked at as an extension of my habits and expressions.
As a submissive, I have surrendered even more layers of control. More pieces of myself are open for his approval or disapproval. More of me becomes what He has made out of me.
I become His creation, molded to His desire. His art.