Attachment and containment

 'It's not my job to supervise you,' he said to me. 'You know what to do, so just do it.'

Why is it that the submissive mind, or is it just my mind, wants to feel the firm presence of the dominant?

Because it feels safe. 

There's some ancient, primal, neanderthal part of my brain that wants to know that he notices.

- I put on my bracelet each morning. 

- I take the cocktail of vitamins he insists I take each day. 

- I ask for permission to eat something sweet or to have a glass of wine (I suggested this rule). 

- I turn down our bed each night.

- I refer to him as 'Sir' in play situations and when he is cross and wants to enforce my place.

- I advise when I am leaving the house, where I am going and when I will return.

- I wish him 'Good morning, Sir' each morning.

- I wait until he is ready to eat before I begin to eat.

All these things I do, that sit beside all the other many ways I serve and assist him, and of course, all the ways he serves and assists me in more overarching ways.

The goal is not to fight, but to discuss calmly what needs to be discussed. He has the ultimate say.

In his very late 60s, he is busier than ever. We were at dinner last night and I took the listening position as he got off his chest and processed all the myriads of things currently on his plate. I knew he needed to do that. 

In between, he told me off for getting flummoxed earlier. 'Just do what you know to do. I am not going to supervise you. But if you need it, the cane still sits in my cupboard. If you need a couple of stripes across your ass to get the message, I can do that.'

I momentarily put my hands over my face. We were sitting in a restaurant, and I didn't instinctively do that because I was embarrassed. I did it because I knew I hadn't behaved well.

It has come to my attention (I research stuff, as you may have gathered) that I have a somewhat 'disorganised attachment' style. I get anxious and I get fearful, and I don't necessarily always have control over those outcomes. My emotions can be felt very keenly, and I can't always self soothe my way out of them.

Containment helps. Knowing somatically that I am safe and that the fear is more in my head than it is real, is something I work on every day.

Yoga is my therapy. Bessel van der Kolk of 'The Body Keeps the Score' fame is entirely correct in my opinion. The trauma is held in the body and bodywork is needed to release it. I will be doing yoga until I simply can't do it anymore, I go to a trauma informed yoga studio. I wouldn't go anywhere else, and I practice the art of being at peace within myself, even when things get hard. This is the whole point of yoga.

Every day is a bit of a challenge at the same time as it is a blessing.