Soft Focus

I’ve had a jagged couple of days: work has been enormously demanding and I’ve had to deal with all of it alone as everyone on my team except me has multiple days off; I’ve been sleep-deprived as I have tried to adjust to early rising (4:30 am) three days a week to work out; and, though I don’t bleed anymore, I am pretty sure I have had some hormonal stuff going on. If I was a believer, I might also opine that perhaps the second full moon of the month has had some deleterious affects on my mood as well. And, well, not to put too fine a point on it, but no stripes, bruises, canings, whippings, spankings or pinches have come my way lately to tame the inner masochist.

So there you are: a jagged Jade.

Sir was patient and only gently reproving Wednesday when those jagged edges slashed at him unfairly, for which I am grateful. It’s hard to be the Hormonal Insecure Girlfriend® of the group’s Hot Guy Leader®, whom they all know to be a wicked Top, a single(ish) Dom, and just a damn nice guy. He is charismatic and warm, has piercing blue eyes and long curly hair, and more than that, really pays attention to you when you talk to him. What’s not to covet? And as natural attention-seekers, local submissives – naturally – seek his attention. It’s all part of it – I was drawn to him too, wasn’t I? But when I am at my most jagged, green is not just the color of the rock of my name, and the worst of my insecurities are hard to shake.

These insecurities are something I despise about myself. I have grown in my security in this relationship, and most of the time it fills me with a sense of safety and contentment. But when I am in the grip of the above – when the green-eyed monster bites – I want and need a complex mixture of responses to bring me out of it. I need reassurance, but without catering to the beast; I need a firm hand, but without the kind of harshness that would make me believe in my distorted reality, or make me lash out in an effort to protect my soft underbelly. I need to feel wanted and cherished and desired, while also being made to know that acting out in service to my fear is unacceptable. I need to be sat on, while also being held lovingly.

That’s a tall order.

And yet, thus far, he has been able to walk that line with an admiring deftness. I appreciate all that he is, and does.

Today my jagged edges are softening, and I find myself turning to him again, to his warmth and integrity, his kindness, his steadfastness in the face of my emotional upheavals. I took this photo thinking about him, about his arms tight around me, drawing me to him, smoothing my jagged edges.

Thank you, Sir, for being you.

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