06 October 2009

Crying jag

Jack and I have fought, and as I lay down the phone I can feel my body shaking. My heart is shaking, my soul rocking in fear and agony. I hate hurting him, but I am also angry- this wasn't my fault! I did what I was supposed to!... and I am confused and frightened and I wish that he were here to see my fear and hold me and promise me that it will be all right, and that he loves me. I cannot show him this fear over the phone- it is too vulnerable, too close, and he is not close enough to make it better.

Still shaking, I wander back into the living room. I've almost forgotten that the boi is here, too wrapped in my misery to remember anything else. Turning the corner and seeing him is a shock: he is curled on the couch, looking up at me. The love and sympathy in his eyes when he sees my face crumbles the pitiful emotional barriers I had begun to automatically build, and I go to him before I even realize what I am doing, curling into a ball, pressed against him, and shaking.

A part of me screams, "This isn't the way that it works! You care for him, you do not make yourself vulnerable to him! Stop! Get up! Put on the mask!" But I am trying to let myself feel, trying to let myself trust, and more than that... I do not want to wear the mask with him. I do not want to pretend, do not want to play the, "I'm invulnerable," game. So I curl myself against him and I let myself shake; slow, hot tears falling down my face, across my nose, and soaking the hand he curls beneath me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks softly.
"Not yet," I shake my head.
So he gives me silence, gives me tenderness, and offers me the safety to feel my fear, my hurt, my anger and distress. I am afraid of this- afraid that he will see me so weak and hurting, and that he will not be able to see this frightened woman as his Mistress and will not be able to trust me, depend on me, lean on me again. I am afraid that this will destroy our dynamic.
It makes me want to stop, to draw myself away from him and process this alone, put on the mask and cover up my hurting, but his hands are warm around me and there is no drawing away in his touch, none of the contempt that I fear.

It adds relief to the roil of emotions inside me, and then I am crying harder, my sobbing silent as always and my body shaking against him. I can feel the fear in his hands, the worry for me, but that there is no contempt in that touch eases a small, tight knot inside of me and I sob myself out and curl up against him while he strokes my hair.
Finally, I am sobbed out, and he kisses my forehead.
"Would you like a cup of tea and a cold rag, Ma'am?"
My eyes are swollen and gritty, my smile shaky, but I hope that he understand that right now I love him more than anything else in the world, and that I am incredibly grateful for his beautiful, tender, loving, submissive heart.

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