The other night I needed to talk to Jason. I had so much on my mind. I'd had a few things happen that were bothering me. I was hurt. It didn't have anything to do with him, but other things that had happened. So I climbed the stairs to our bedroom where he was, and I asked him, “May I talk to you?”
I'd been holding onto a lot of things, not because I wanted to keep things back from him, but because I'd been processing through them and we really hadn't had much time to talk. I had some things I had to talk about dealing with our family, some things that were weighing on me. I wanted to tell him how badly I miss my dad, and how it saddens me to think of the upcoming holidays I will face for the first time without him.
He did what he always did. He put down what he was doing, lifted his arm up for me to crawl under, and said, “I'd love to hear what's on your mind. Why don't you come and tell me.”
I really don't have the words to express how grateful I am for him, that he does that for me. I know I've said it before. But knowing there isn't anything I can't tell him, knowing that I have his kind, empathetic ear whenever I need him, it means so much to me. He's the kind of person that always looks at things very honestly – never sugarcoating them. He will be blunt and always very forthright. But at the same time, he always looks at things positively. “Always assume the positive,” is his line, and he's taught me that.
He listened. I talked, and the emotions I'd been holding at bay broke. I cried, as I told him some things that had happened, specifically the details of why I was upset about what happened with a friend.
And as he held me, smoothing my hair down and holding me tight as I cried onto his shoulder, he said something that really struck a chord.
“It's the risk you take, when you love someone.”
I knew what he meant. When you let your guard down, and you trust someone, allowing yourself to be transparent, and vulnerable, you allow yourself to be hurt.
And it got me thinking about something else that's been on my mind, the concern that readers of this blog and a real life friend of mine who knows our dynamic have expressed to me, on more than one occasion, about the intimacy I have with Jason, and the nature of our relationship. Any reader of this blog will know how much I think of him. He is everything to me. And it's also, I think, very clear how very intertwined our lives are with one another.
I've heard it several times now. And it's a very real concern, a very real fear, and an understandable one.
“What happens if you lose him? You're so tied to him. What would happen if he were gone?”
And one reader, “I hope you don't wake up one day and wish for your independence back.”
“Is it healthy to rely so much on him?”
Frankly, their concern is that building a relationship with such a heavy level of dependency is a dangerous choice. That if the day came I no longer had his dominance, I would be unable to function.
What happens if I lose him? It's not something I like to think about, of course, but it's a very real concern for a submissive. A submissive comes to rely so heavily on her Dom. He takes care of all my needs, of course. Yes, he pays all our bills, and makes sure I'm taken care of in every way physically. He protects me by making sure I get enough sleep, that I don't take too much on, and that my priorities are in check. But he also meets my emotional needs. He is my confidante. He knows my weaknesses, and my strengths, and he leads me in such a way that my emotional needs are taken care of. He knows my every need and provides for those needs.
But as Jason said...it's a risk you take, when you love someone.
If the day comes that I lose Jason's leadership and dominance...or I lose him...I will not lie. It would be absolutely devastating to me, of course. It's something we talk about, not just me losing him, but him losing me. He tells me, sometimes...in those times when we're alone, and it's quiet, how I've brought joy to him, and the thought of losing me is hard to bear.
But this is where our faith comes into play. I don't often blog about our faith. It isn't the subject of this blog, and I aim to write for a diverse audience. But I can't really discuss the dependent nature of our relationship without explaining how our faith is tied in. You see, we believe that when we took our vows to one another, we agreed to give ourselves completely to one another. We agreed to entwine our lives irrevocably.
“And the two shall become one.”
Our choice to meet each other's needs in a deeper, more intimate, erotic, romantic way – this choice to make dominance and submission foundational – is merely an extension of what we believe our relationship should be. A choice to give ourselves completely to the other. A choice to love one another so deeply, we'd be willing to give up our lives for the other.
I don't really view our relationship as co-dependency. I prefer to view it as completion, the symbiotic meeting of one another's needs.
If ever there comes a day I lose him, I will take everything he's taught me, about myself, about others, about life – and I will continue to do the very best I can, with the firm belief that our separation from one another is only for a time.
When I told him recently that another reader wrote to me, expressing her concerns about how I would function without him, he smiled at me, reached out for me, and hugged me close. “You would be fine,” he said. "You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself." I know he's right. I can't fathom how badly it would hurt, but I would go on.
But as he so aptly put it, that's the risk you take, when you love someone.
And it's a risk I'm willing to take.