Coming to terms with things

Had I been aware of websites like Fetlife five years ago, I would've labeled myself submissive: I appreciate knowing explicitly what is expected of me, having certain things I am responsible for, and I have a habit of keeping track of my partners to make sure they are as taken care of as possible.

Flash forward a few years to when I met Mike. Here was (is) a man who had had submissives and slaves, knew what we wanted from them, and looked forward to having then again. It made me want to complete him; it gave me the challenge of being his perfect and ideal partner. Like with most of my boyfriends, I wanted to meet his needs and be better than all the rest. I wanted him to love me and treasure me above all else. I wanted to be magical. I wanted to be irreplaceable.

I wanted him to keep me.

For a long time, I felt like a failure because he pushed that side of me away. I would try to engage the part of him that he admitted he wished came out more, but he would shy away. On top of that, my sexual advances were equally useless, which left me feeling like I was treading water but never quite going anywhere.

From me, Mike wasn't looking for a sub. I didn't have what it took, especially because I couldn't drop the need for sexuality in these potential scenarios. It was confusing and stressful, but I focused on what I could provide in his life instead:

Understanding. Support. Encouragement. Love. Friendship. Laughter.

It took dating someone who actually actively wanted a completely submissive partner in their life to realize I wasn't actually naturally submissive. When I could get his dom side to come out, I kept being uncomfortable with the ideas he Mike was suggesting. I could go for bits and pieces, but he couldn't get into things piecemeal like that, and I couldn't just jump in completely like he needed. It was frustrating on both ends because we were both invested in him being happy and fulfilled. 

Then it hit me:

Thanks to my mother, I was raised with the idea that you did whatever you could to convince your partner to stay with you, since clearly no one would stay of their own accord otherwise. I was raised with the idea that oneself doesn't really matter, especially if being yourself means being alone.

So while the part of me that wants to take care of the people around me still exists, it isn't my main character trait anymore. For the first time in my life, I can basically be myself instead of doing what I can to twist myself to be good for someone else. It's still awkward at times, to be honest, and there's still that part of me that feels I'm letting Mike down by not being able to meet his needs entirely... But he isn't looking for me to do that, and I have no real problem letting him find someone else who can pick up where I left off. It takes some pressure off the part of me that still lingers from before, the part inherently feeling like a failure who worries so much about being abandoned.

I am starting to recognize my worth beyond my willingness to do anything for the people I love. It's difficult and stressful and painful at times -- and it's a long road to walk down on top of that. Thankfully I've got a pretty fantastic travel companion, so it's worth the trouble.