The Inner Workings of A Serial Submissive

She is an aggressive yet submissive woman, and no, that's not a contradiction. It's balance. It's fire and softness coexisting in one body. She will dominate you if you give her nothing to follow. She's confident. Intelligent. Independent. She knows how to take care of herself, so she's never going to blindly hand over her trust or energy to a man who doesn't deserve it. But if you are respectful, grounded, and masculine, in a way that creates safety, not fear, she will submit most powerfully. Not out of weakness, but out of trust. Because submission, for a strong woman, is a choice, not a default. She needs a man who knows where he's going. A man with direction, presence, and consistency. She doesn't respond to control, she responds to clarity. She's not impressed by power plays or ego. She wants a connection. Emotional leadership. Mutual respect. She will not follow a man who doesn't value her mind, her heart, or her soul. She will not shrink just to make you feel big. But she will soften, she will let her guard down, and she will be the most nurturing, loyal, and gentle woman you've ever known when you make her feel safe to be. So no, it's not difficult to understand. She doesn't need a man to control her. She needs a man who knows how to lead her, without losing her in the process.

Unknown

Life- What is your ultimate vision?

Me- Uh, I don’t know. What do you think?

Life- what do YOU think? 

Me- I have no idea. Here’s the thing, um,

  I loved everything as it was, but now                 that’s changed. So…I…I don’t know      

        what- what comes next.

Life- I think that’s exciting. Not knowing.    

        ‘Cause then, what is meant to be has

         the space to show up.

In the beginning, I was what I considered a hard core “brat” masochist.  I was determined to find a Dom that could handle all of me and I was a handful.   Many came up to bat and many struck out. I almost prided myself on what I thought was bratiness and in the arrogance of knowing exactly what it was that I needed and deserved. I dared anyone to see through my antics and love me anyway.

My lightbulb moment came and I realized that I couldn’t top from the bottom and have the type of Dom that I wanted. I began my “submissive with slave tendencies” leg of this journey and a Master is what I needed.  

As I did the work and tasks given to me, I was able to put words to my feelings.  This was foreign and the growing pains were 10 out of 10 on the pain scale.  Transformation is never easy. I didn’t feel the need for all of the pain and began to want a gentler touch.  

Once I was able to feel comfortable voicing my feelings, I noticed that I wanted to express them in my submission.  This began the “service submissive” with my own twist. For this portion, I felt that a Sir would fit my needs. I would rate my masochist needs a 7.

I took a long break from D/s and am now back, with yet another change noted. I come back to it worn and weary and in need of sweetness, comfort, and security. I want to show all of my needy vulnerability and be shown that it is not only okay, but praised in my bravery for giving that last secret part of myself.   

No one is more surprised than me at this new turn of events. Me, a baby girl, who’d a thunk it!   

Change is inevitable, nothing can stay the same. Like the push and pull of the tides, the brief hope of solid ground, only to be swept out further. I struggle to stay in one spot, but the current drags me as though I am a limp rag doll with no hope of shore, no matter how hard I fight. 

I have been untethered and drift aimless. I choke on the black murk which drags me down until the sunlight is nothing but a watery speck above me.  I have lost faith in my own power and my ability to save myself.   

In my despair, I lost sight of the life lines thrown to me. Too proud to call for help and too weak to fight much more, I resign myself to my fate and stop….I let go and just allow myself to float.  

In the quiet, I hear You.  Reassuring and encouraging, You call to me and for once, in a very long while, I listen. I am not alone.
I am not alone.   I AM NOT ALONE! 

I am not alone.  💖

That could be an interesting conversation with the neighbors!   😳

Many of you ask for some medical stories and I try to oblige, so here ya go!

I was prepping a patient for a large gynecological case the other day and had to put a Foley catheter into her bladder.  She was already off in dreamland with anesthesia and was completely oblivious to what was happening.  

There is a small balloon that gets inflated with fluid at the end of the catheter so that it will stay up in the bladder where it belongs.  (This is why you feel like you have to pee even though there is a hose up in your bladder). For this type of surgery, we inject a syringe of dye called Methylene Blue into the balloon, so that if the surgeon should cut the bladder by accident the dye will seep into the abdomen.  

I was injecting the dye into the balloon, but the lure lock wasn’t tight and I sprayed the dye all over this poor woman’s crotch and thighs!  My response to any type of stressful situation is to laugh, it’s a coping mechanism.  

I immediately ran for the rubbing alcohol to get the dye off of the woman. Rubbing alcohol does not remove Methylene blue, it in fact turns it green.  The more I wiped, the harder I laughed.  I was mortified!   

Today when I walked into work, my coworker that recovered and discharged the patient said that the lady laughed and said that she’d always wanted to try dying her hair, but this was even better.  She couldn’t wait to shock and surprise her husband.  

It made me giggle all day to know that 1. The lady wasn’t pissed as hell, and 2. That maybe I should try some cosmetology school next!  

I either need to learn to crochet or find a nonjudgmental friend to crochet this for me.  The kit comes in several colors and sizes.  😍

Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat

Caitlin Seida