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State of the Relationship Address

February 5th, 2009

I had an amazing idea for a blog entry last night but, as usual, forgot to write it down and can’t, for the life of me, remember what it was. So… here I sit trying to think of another one. You’d think I’d utilize the prompt page I found. Not today, though.

There’s a lot of talking going on between Master and me right now. About anything and everything that comes to mind regarding our relationship and our life together. Something we’ve really been concentrating on is my ability to express myself verbally without clamming up or lashing out. It’s not easy. For either of us. But I’m doing a lot better with it. So I guess that’s a plus.

I’ve mentioned my communication issues on FetLife on occasion. I don’t really go into why I have problems communicating and everyone seems to think that I’m afraid to talk to Him because of Him or because I am owned by Him. I get suggestions like “Ask Him for permission to speak freely.” and “Talk to Him about having a ‘free’ day where you can say whatever you want whenever you want.” and “Set up a time and place that’s ‘safe’ for you to express yourself without repercussions so you guys can air all your dirty laundry.”

My communication issues have nothing to do with Him.

Even before I left and we realized we had communication issues, I was allowed to say whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, all of the time. As long as I did it the “right way”. In other words, I’m required to maintain an even tone and be respectful. I’m not allowed to sling insults or name call. And I have to be realistic… not pull shit out my ass in attempt to prove Him wrong or at fault.

Oh, I tried to push some of it off on Him. With comments like “Every time I try to talk to you, you get mad!” and “If I express how I’m feeling and it doesn’t jibe with how you think I should be feeling, I get in trouble!” But in all honesty, that’s simply not true. My issues with communication run much deeper than that. Began much earlier than our relationship did.

While He did often get mad when I tried to talk to Him, it was usually because I was screaming at Him. Not talking. While occasionally He does tell me that my thoughts or feelings are wrong (i.e. built on misunderstandings or assumptions), I get in trouble because, instead of listening to Him and talking to Him, I scream at Him. 

It took an extreme amount of self-examination to realize that and I’m sure I won’t always be able to hold sight of it. When my emotions run rampant, I lose sight of a lot. Hopefully now that I see that for myself, I’ll be able to identify when it’s happening and take a moment to breathe before making any rash decisions.

My communication issues started when I was two. I was mad because someone had done something to me. I can’t remember what it was. And I tried to tell my father but I was hysterical.

He told me that if I couldn’t calm down and talk to him like a big girl he wasn’t going to listen to a word I said and I’d have to take a nap. Being two years old, I couldn’t calm down. So he put me to bed after a sound spanking. I remember connecting the spanking with trying to talk to him. Trying to tell him I was hurt and angry had gotten me more pain and more anger. And suddenly, at two years old, I could no longer trust my father.

If a girl can’t trust her father, who can she trust?

In any case, I’ve never been able to communicate well. It’s why from the moment I learned to write I always had a pencil and notebook nearby. I’d write “fictional stories” with just enough fiction to disguise that they were about my life.

In sixth grade, I bought a journal with my name on it and kept up with it until my mother left it in the wrong place after reading it. I started keeping one again when I started going to a school that utilized lockers but stopped when my locker got broken into. They didn’t find it but it was still entirely too close for comfort.

Then we moved into a house with two separate attics and one door was behind my bed that was too heavy for my mother to move. I’ve kept a journal ever since.

But I’d even started self-censoring there. Easier to just keep it to myself than provoke Him.

I’m not censoring anything anymore. And, oddly enough, I think it’s actually making Him more nervous. Because since I started opening up more, I’ve had less problems, gotten upset less, thrown less tantrums. Funny how that works. I’ve had nothing but problems almost since the day He collared me! So it’s not easy to convince Him that I’m not stuffing again.

Zedd. I was going to write about Zedd.

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