Every time a conversation about us having a poly relationship with someone turns serious, I get scared.

Most of it is just old worries that I know, now, are completely baseless.  But I hold onto them like a warm security blanket, as if I’m afraid that if I let go, my fears will manifest in reality.

Speaking of security blankets, I had a rather vivid dream, last night, about the one I gave to my daughter.  The one I slept with until I was twenty-one.  Wonder what that means.  The dream, not the fact that I slept with it till I was twenty-one.  We already know I’m insecure.

I kinda started shit with Master because of my fears last night.

I didn’t mean to.  I was just nervous, and not thinking clearly, and ignoring all the logic bells firing off in my head.  I do that a lot.  Ignore the logic bells, I mean.

The fears I have are learned.  They’re more out of habit than anything else.  The women in the crowds I ran with were extremely competitive.  Being in good with the boss (Who wasn’t a pimp.  I never had an actual pimp.  The boss was just the leader of the crew.) meant less work and more money.  It meant less danger and more fake compassion.  It meant you were hit less and hurt less and got special treatment and presents and…

But most of all, being in good with the boss meant you got to live another day.  I don’t know a person alive who wouldn’t fight, tooth and nail, and dirty if they had to, for that right.

I’m not used to dealing with honorable women.

Oh, I should be.  I’ve been friends with a handful of honorable women since I found Kaya’s blog and followed her to Carrie (Or did Carrie follow her to me? Anyway…) and then followed them both to FetLife and Twitter and Eden, where I met a lot of the women I converse with now.  I’m sure I knew a couple honorable women before then, but most of us have drifted apart and I wasn’t particularly honorable back then.  Master took the girl off the street, but He hadn’t managed to take the street out of the girl.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get rid of the street completely.  I’m not sure I want to.  It has saved my life more than once.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight for my life.  I think it’s time to allow myself to switch out of survival mode.  If only to give the possibilities we’ve opened ourselves up to a fighting chance.  Because this could be beautiful if we let it.