If you’d asked me a year ago what submission meant to me, I’d have given you a very different answer. Back then, I thought it meant keeping my head down, being meek, unseen, unheard. Bending over backwards to please someone who would never truly be pleased.
But a year later, I know submission is something deeper.
Now, submission to me means being his calm when life gets messy, his support when the world feels heavy, and also his toy when he craves control. It’s the quiet thrill of anticipating his needs, the trust of giving myself fully whether that’s kneeling at his feet, taking his discipline, or simply being the one who will never waver in her devotion.
Submission, I’ve learned, is a gift. But it’s also a journey of self-discovery, becoming someone you didn’t know existed. It’s strength, vulnerability, and growth all wrapped together.
I’m still learning. I’m sure my definition will evolve again. But this is where I’m starting.