The older I get, the more I get to know about myself.
No, that’s not the right words.
The older I get, the more I get to understand about myself.
A month ago, almost to the day, we met Baby Girl, who visited our small country from Australia. We had a wonderful afternoon with this gorgeous woman, and of course we wanted to get to know each other better, so snippets from our lives were shared. Reasons why we did things. How we react to certain things. It was during this afternoon that I had an epiphany. While talking to Baby Girl, I suddenly realized something…
I will get to that in a moment.
How many of you feel that how further you get on with life, the more you get to know yourself? The more you get to understand about yourself? The more you get to accept yourself just the way you are and actually feel quite comfortable about it? I can’t imagine that it’s only me going through this process. I think all of us go through a process like this, but like with many things, the process for some is much quicker than it was for me. I also think that this process differs from generation to generation, but also from individual to individual. It might even depend on the way you grow up, what your parents allowed you and what not. There are so many factors that come into play, that it’s impossible to explain why some people know exactly who they are and what they want when they are barely 20, and others, like me, are past 40 and only then, bit by bit, start to understand things about themselves.
I grew up in a very conservative country (which isn’t as conservative anymore as it was back then). I grew up with conservative parents (but my mother was never as conservative as she pretended back then). Being in a conservative community didn’t make me fight it. I didn’t become a rebel because I was raised in a conservative manner. So no, that’s not the reason why I started calling myself a rebel when I was in my teens. I started calling myself a rebel because I always did things differently from others. While my peers were out partying, I was at home, reading a book. While my peers worshiped pop idols, I liked the music but never idolized anyone. My life was just so much different from that of my peers. Mom at 16, married at 20, mom again at 21, divorced at 22 and then I went to the army. Five years later I emigrated and started a new life. I’m the only one in the entire family (and here I mean siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, etc.) who married three times. The only one that came even remotely close to that was my darling grandmother, who married twice (both her husbands died) and then lived together with a man until she passed.
Okay, I think that gives a bit of background information to the epiphany I had. While talking to Baby Girl we talked about discovering our submissive sides. She said how she always wondered and questioned herself about wanting to sit on the ground at a man’s feet, or when she is told to do something, she immediately does. This is where suddenly I realized, I didn’t. For some time I thought I was stupid that I didn’t know about things… you know, about submissive feelings and BDSM and some other things in life. But the thing is, that’s all because of who I am, all because of how I am wired. Like I said, I never worshiped a pop idol. I liked the music, that’s it. I never wanted to be part of a specific group to ‘belong’. I just did what I wanted to do, without making a show of it or rebelling against things. I accepted things the way they were and just carried on.
Yes, I too loved sitting at a man’s feet and I have always been quite obedient, but I just never questioned it. It was just part of who I am. Without even thinking about it, I just accepted it. The first time I actually started thinking about things I like and the reasons why I like it, was back when we made our D/s commitment. Before that we’ve been busy with BDSM, but we never called it that. We never gave it a name. No, I just liked the feel of cuffs around my wrists, or clamps on my nipples, or submitting to him when he fisted me. I never even thought of it as submission, because of me never questioning myself, but just accepting.
All those times when I saw twenty-something people knowing so well what they want, knowing what they stand for, what moves them and why… all those times I thought I was so stupid for not knowing those things about myself when I was the same age. I thought I should have questioned things more, that I really should have known many things at a much younger age. My epiphany was that I did. I knew all the time. Even though I felt insecure and self-conscious when I looked at my peers, I knew myself better than I understood back then. I could just never bring it to words, because I never thought it necessary to explain myself to others. All I wanted was to be accepted for who I am, the way I accept others for who they are.
I have this saying: I am just me. I now understand that this is really true. I am who I am and I am quite content with that person, and because I am content with it, I can be who I really am.
Does it still make sense?
It does to me.
© Rebel’s Notes