I've been wondering lately if I'm really a good friend. I see the constant interaction on Facebook, and I don't understand why I'm not a part of that. Why don't I spend more time writing to the people I care about? Why is it so hard for me to call, or to make arrangements to get together?
Then I remember -- I don't know what to say. People write about their pain and suffering. I want to give hugs, and listen. How do I translate what I feel into a blurb of text? How do I let them feel heard, and understood, without trivializing what they are going through? Saying that I'd hug you is entirely different than doing it, and so I say nothing. When things for me are good, I don't want to brag. When they're bad, I don't want to complain. Small talk feels awkward and vaguely insulting. What does that leave me?
And I don't know what to do. I can't afford to go out for coffee with a different person every week. I don't know how to make myself heard in a group. Movies or other non-interaction feels like cheating.
I never learned this stuff. All of my friends came from places I went every day -- school first, then work. As the years have passed, what social skills I may have had withered. My mum did her best by me, but she never really had a social life until well after I moved out. Her friends were her family -- brothers and sisters and spouses -- and I am an only child.
I don't know what's too much. What's not enough? All I know is that when I love you, I love you forever. I know that I will do whatever is in my power to help a friend in need.
But who is going to call me for help, when I'm barely around the rest of the time?
I've had a lot of time to think, lately. I've had a lot of cause.
Recently, I opened my heart to the idea of a submissive male joining our family.
Hubby originally brought up the idea more than a year ago, but at the time I wasn't ready. I was recovering from the break-up of a two-year relationship, then trying to deal with the drama of dating a married couple. After that, I was happy to settle in with the girlfriend I'd had for a year and the husband I'd recently recovered. I was not at interested in anything serious outside of those two.
In focusing on that girl, I realized there was something inside of me I hadn't recognized before. I have a need for control. Not the violent, vehement sort of control one imagines, but a nurturing sort. I am not a sadist, but I enjoyed exploring the pain she desired. I would enjoy exploring more, on my own initiative.
It didn't work out with her, and now there is a void. I am burnt out on women. It seems any female I attempt to have an intimate relationship with ends up hurting me. Unintentional, mostly, but painful all the same. (Hubby says I'm intimidating. I don't really understand that, but I am going to try. I like women too much to allow my own flaws to interfere.) In considering this void, and what to do about it, I remembered my Husband's suggestion.
It has merit.
I have history of leading boys. I enjoyed the position of control -- bringing them to new knowledge in themselves and in love. I enjoy guiding. In a way, this aligns with my interests in psychology. The more I've thought on the matter, the more enthusiastic I've become.
Which just goes to show how well my Husband knows me. He is well suited to be the Master he has become to me. Well suited to guide and lead me. I could not be the person I am if it were not for him. He empowers me. He reminds me of my manners and my strength. He remembers when I forget. He understands when I do not. He is logical when my emotion overcomes me. He forgives me when I sometimes hesitate to forgive myself.
Above all, I have had a lot of time to think about this marriage. I could not do any of this without D. I would have fallen apart a dozen times by now. I know what I have to offer -- and I am confident in offering -- but I also know that my fears would not allow me to do so. While I may not always understand, or even agree with my Husband, I do know that he always has my best interest in mind.
"The divine mysteries of nature are above and beyond the power of conception of the limited intellect. They must be grasped by the power of the spirit." --Franz Hartmann
I went browsing an antique shop, and found a book on magic. Go figure. So far it is very interesting reading indeed. In the preface alone, I have been forced to confront myself about my motives.
I study because I like to know things. I have an insatiable curiousity. The real knowing, though, comes from the heart, and the spirit. There, I find I am lacking. I doubt myself and my abilities.
In the material world, I am learning confidence. I can do things. I still have insecurities when it comes to the unknown -- not because it may be difficult, but because I fear that everyone will see my lack of experience.
I have the same fear on a spiritual level.
I study and read because I am afraid that, in doing, I will show my incompetence. This is true of many things, but it hinders me most in magic. I have faith in my power, but no faith in its execution. I need to learn to trust myself. Despite the success and strength of things done on whim and intuition, still I doubt my own skill.
(I could have let recent commenting stop me from making such personal insights public. But I will not allow anyone to destroy my trust and hope in the world. Despite the strength of a handful of hate, I believe in Love above all.)