You know, I said, I think I’m just going to quit, at least for a while.
“The scene, you mean?”
No.. Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean I’ll just… you know.. be vanilla. Quit, you know?
He laughed, then looked a little sad.
“Yeah. Good luck with that. You can’t just quit.”
But I did.
And I’d recommend every kinky person does at least once.
I quit BDSM.
And I grieved, for a while.
I grieved and floundered and struggled for so long because when you quit something, especially something that has been such a big part of your life, no great, shining moment of revelation happens about what to do now with all that time and energy and self-image that used to be connected to the thing, which makes the absence of the thing a thing in itself. And the thing just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and you feel emptier and emptier.
I was still grieving when last I wrote, so I quit that, too.
Then, when I didn’t think I could get any more empty, I started to blindly throw things into the void. Tiny, stupid, little things. Things that made me feel awkward. Things that I thought wouldn’t have a hope in hell of actually making a difference.
But, eventually, the small, tiny things that I’d been fruitlessly flailing with (I’d thought at the time) had added up and the empty blackness was retreating.
I quit sugar and overhauled my diet and lifestyle.
I bought a fitbit, because apparently it’s totally socially acceptable for vanilla folks to want to be micromanaged by a little black buzzy thing at all hours of the day.
I started exercising.
I’ve lost 20kg (44lbs) and laughed when the clothes started to fall off me.
I had the pain relief surgery I’d been putting off because I was too scared.
I increased my volunteering and teaching commitments threefold.
I took a course.
I talked to strangers.
Made actual friends for the first time since I was at school.
Gave presents with actual thought in them and told people how I felt.
I pushed at work.
I pushed at home.
Decluttered. Donated a ton of stuff to charity. Threw out tons more.
Made decisions. Too-hard ones. Ones I would have put off indefinitely.
Challenged myself to do things that brought me out in a cold sweat. And then did them again.
I feel new.
I feel alive and healthy and strong.
And now again, or just maybe still- I want to be dominated.
Not because I can’t do things, make decisions, take responsibility-
For the first time ever, because I can.
I’m ready — finally — to be taken.