AD/HD Submissive

I have AD/HD, or so I am told, although I hate acknowledging it. I guess I would rather think of myself as self centered, selfish, lazy, stupid, than to think of myself as someone who uses a new and cool diagnosis as an excuse for their behaviour.

"Lacking adequate stimulation, some people with AD/HD will subconsciously seek other means of stimulation. And that includes overeating, drinking to excess, pot smoking, porn viewing, and gambling as well as behaviors such as provoking others into a fight and starting arguments. The adrenaline that is released during the conflict, paradoxically, acts to calm the brain, sort of like the stimulant medication does." Gina Pera

I think I find this sort of release when Sir hits me, especially when its methodical and rhythmic. It centers and calms me, it helps me find focus, it calms the noise in my head, it makes me feel better. Better about myself, better about my life. For that short period of time it all makes sense, I make sense, I have a purpose and a reason.

Owning It

At times I feel a great deal of shame regarding my submissive needs, my desire to be used and objectified. I remember saying to Sir recently that I felt I should be able to do what "normal" people do and stuff it back down, swallow it, hide it, be miserable in a vanilla life and accept that is how it should be.

I watched an O where the submissive felt similarly. She felt somewhat sexually repressed, unable to talk dirty, unable to ask for what she wanted, unable to accept herself. When her trainer put her collar on she became almost euphoric. He said to her that the collar symbolized her owning it, owning all her shit, not being afraid of it and accepting it. "It's your sexuality, you can do whatever you want with it."

My collar isn't just a symbol of how Sir owns me, its a symbol of accepting myself. It doesn't just say to the world that I am owned, it says I am comfortable with who I am and what I want. I'm not at the stage of total self acceptance yet, but each day I am embracing my own thoughts a little more, exploring them a little more.

It's still quite a daunting prospect to communicate these feelings and desires to him. I suppose I want him to guess what I want and need, and find it within me and pull it out of me so that I have no choice but to accept it. Maybe I need him to push me more, to demand more of me, something to help him understand what I need.

Desperate and Destructive

Sir came and spent another two weeks with me and we spent the time in a fulltime, live in D/s dynamic. It wasn't fantastic, the sex was nothing like I remembered it, we clashed a lot and he tried way too hard to get me to be pleasant in the morning. But that's just us finding our ground, I expect that it will be like that for some time. I didn't want to put a huge amount of pressure on the relationship by expecting it to be just right at the beginning, he's strong enough and patient enough that he can lead us in the right direction.

By the last day of his visit I was feeling pretty miserable. I had almost zero time to myself over the past two weeks, and my regular day to day life had been totally disrupted. On top of that a friend of mine had a pretty serious car accident, yet I could only spend a few hours one evening with them because neither Sir or myself felt it was fair that he had travelled over 10,000 miles to sit alone. We put it down to poor timing but I felt incredibly stressed and pressured not to mention unbelievably torn.

So I took him to the airport and watched him walk away, again. I browsed through the airport bookshop and then hopped on a city bus, did a little shopping and then headed home. I had the house to myself for two hours so I climbed into bed and dozed a little, relishing the warmth and softness, listening to the rain and loving the time to myself.

Once I felt restored I took a deep breath and then all of a sudden I felt like crying. He was gone again. I couldn't believe the loss I felt, still feel. Every minute that he is gone I feel worse. I find myself being short tempered and irrrational, and then of course I feel guilty that I am subjecting him to those negative emotions when this move to return to me permanently is a greater ordeal for him than I will ever know. God, I hate guilt, fucking catholics.

It's going to take him about a month to return. I text him and bug him to come online to spend time with me, but then when he gets there I want to lash out at him for leaving me again. Nothing feels the same without him here, nothing. He asked me to wear my cuffs throughout the day to comfort me, but instead they just irritate me, yet while he was here I was loathe to take them off, I loved them so much.

Sigh. Pout.