It really came home to me last night just how blessed I have been with some of the people in my life. In a packed restaurant I was sat opposite my former mistress and we’re talking about anything and everything.
She suffers from depression, anxiety and PTSD which means she can shut out the world for long periods and is difficult to reach out to at those times. When she’s ready to face the world again we’ll meet up, as we did last night, and we pick up from where the conversation broke off with no hiatus or awkwardness.
She’s the one who took a rather naive sub and steered him away from the darkest and most destructive fantasies. She saved me, many years before I even knew that I’d needed saving. She taught me how to live D/s in a healthy manner. How to trust and let go. That my submission doesn’t have to be about a lessening or diminishing, indeed that it’s very much the opposite of those.
Maybe the greatest thing that she gave me was to give me some notion of self-worth as a sub. When you’ve spent years together it’s hard to reject the evidence that you’re wanted simply because of who you are and what you mean to the other person. Sure I’ve had relapses with that, yet my current domme has gently confounded me by showing that it wasn’t a fluke.
The ending of our time as domme and sub was an abrupt transition that meant we discovered that nothing had really changed except that there was no D/s to punctuate the friendship. As we’ve since discussed, it’s not that either of us didn’t miss it, just that the reasons were serious enough to mean that support and friendship far outweighed everything else and any desire to turn back the clock.
And that’s how it’s been for a long time now.
She admits to struggling when she learned how much my current domme meant to me, that it made her realise she hadn’t moved on, that she’d been in a form of stasis. Dealing with that forced her to grow and reinforced the friendship aspect. She now gets delight from seeing me grow, even if it is with someone else. Though it has to be said that nights like this prove she still has a role in my growth.
Which means, there I am, sat opposite her in a crowded restaurant dressed as close to femme as I can get without being in a skirt. She couldn’t be more pleased, encouraging and even protective. God knows what neighbouring tables thought, not just of me, but of any snippets of conversation they overheard. And I’m not feeling the slightest nervy palpitation from the femme image I’m displaying nor the conversation. What anybody else around us thinks … we don’t care. Were anyone to confront me, she’d be straight in to defend.
This was the most uncontrolled environment that I’ve stepped in to so overtly as melody. To be able to do so with such ease says volumes about what a special friend this lady has turned in to. And the icing on the cake is that in the back of my mind I could see that other special friend, my domme, purring at what she’s accomplished for me to be sat there at that table.
One of those evenings that feeds the soul and highlights the blessings. And to make that even better, I know it applied to both of us.