On being different

I had lunch recently with a group of women on the occasion of one woman's birthday. It's an odd friendship group and I sit on the periphery of it. One woman in the friendship group is my oldest friend and that sort of dragged me into the group for some of life's festivities. So, I'm invited, sometimes, to these get-togethers to celebrate their birthdays and I contribute to the group gift, naturally. It's an odd sort of experience for me because it has never occurred to any of them in all these years that it must be uncomfortable for me to never have a get together organized for my birthday and to never be given a gift in return, but that's the way it goes and nothing is going to change.

They are a mixed group, mainly leading privileged and indulgent lives and I realized recently that my discomfort level with the situation has risen markedly. I was sitting there at a lovely restaurant earlier in the week with them listening to the details of their various holiday destinations and so on. I put on a brave face, of course. I ask questions and offer snippets and I do my best to enjoy the experience. All of them, one on one, are nice people but together they can seem, to me at least, bitchy, so I am guarded and careful in what I say. There is toxicity there from which I try to insulate myself. Perhaps the main point of difference between us is that they are 'girls' whereas I am a 'submissive girl', a girl whose most important journey has been inward rather than exploring the world.  Neither outlook is necessarily right or wrong, but different. I'm different and people who are different can be bullied. I'm conscious of that and that increases my independence, which probably bothers them.

It's been different these past two weeks for me. There is a point that is being made. There is a finite end to the process and so I'm not overly upset about it. It's akin to a school girl who has been 'grounded' but in a kinky sort of way. This is a process, for sure, and in the past few days I've been acutely aware of the 'freedoms'; anxious to return to a contained state; well aware of my 'needs'. Of course, there can be no better definition perhaps of a 'submissive girl' as opposed to the girls I know; someone who wants to return to her 'place'; who would happily travel the world like my 'friends' but only in a contained state; in the certainty of who I am and what works for me. 'Freedom' for me isn't what 'freedom' is for them. I need to feel a very deep connection. I need to know where the power lies; who runs the show. I need to feel the containment; to be answerable to a higher authority; to ask 'permission' for things; to know my place and purpose.

It's these sort of thoughts and needs that I must never, ever, dare share with my 'friends'. They'd turn on me, talk about me; ridicule me. The discomfort I feel in the group now would be a fraction of the intolerable abashment if they knew the real me. Perhaps it is why I remain on the fringes of the group, never really accepted into it, because they sense this in me and they can't relate; don't approve. I find it a more comfortable thing to surround myself with those people who I feel instinctively accept me; perhaps who are closer to my personality type. I think it is one of the reasons this little web journal continues to be so very important in my life.