This was painful to write.
Today I sat down and began my Leather Crafter IW list. I had to keep taking breaks because the cost of the items was overwhelming. I kept saying to myself that this is something You want to do for me. I had to keep walking away. I wanted to put it off. I wanted to not do it at all.
During my errands today, I dwelled on this. My train of thought went off on its own path. Memories of You speaking to me about taking me shopping kept popping up … the boots I loved but went home without … lingerie … clothing. Always, I commented about how I don’t need “things” and tried to get You off the subject as quickly as possible.
I am so conflicted about this that I don’t know how to explain. I’m not even sure I understand it myself. I’m going to try to process as I write. We’ll see how that goes.
I thought perhaps it was that I might be concerned about DH’s reaction. Tonight I asked him about Your offer to help with my Leather Craft expenses. He looked at me as if I had asked him how his trip to Atlantis had been; as if I had lost my mind. To paraphrase “Why would it matter where the tools come from if it makes you happy?” His statement that he wasn’t bothered did nothing to alleviate my discomfort. Clearly that’s not the issue.
I thought about how I felt when we were in the market and I fell in love with those tea cups. About how I wanted to pick up the box to see how much they cost because maybe I could treat myself even though I have no use for teacups. About how I desperately wanted to open the box and see how many there were. I thought about all of the pretty chopsticks that I so wanted to ogle more closely. About how I wanted to go through every pile to see if I could find a set with fuchsia handles. About how I thought I might be able to swing the cost of a set if I was careful with my budget. About how if I tried to buy them on my own that You would probably insist on paying for them. About how seriously fucked up it is that I was actively downplaying my interest in these items because I was uncomfortable with the thought of You paying for them.
I thought about whether this behavior of mine is unique to You. It’s not. I have always been excruciatingly uncomfortable with anyone purchasing something for me in my presence. I don’t know what this is about. I thoroughly enjoy it when You purchase things for me and give them to me later. ( I thought about rewording the phrase “when you purchase things for me” several times.) I thought about this … all of my Leather, my boots, meals, incidentals. None of those things bother me.
Reimbursement for expenses bothers me. You have commanded me to keep a list of them. I have. Very carefully. I have it with me every time I see You, just in case You ask for it. I thought about this today, also. About how I don’t volunteer the information. About how I spend at least a few minutes thinking about it every time I’m on my way to see You, hoping you won’t request it.
It’s not that I feel as if I’m prostituting myself. (Yes, I thought about that too.) If that were the case this issue would be unique to You and it’s not. I’m uncomfortable with anyone buying me anything when I am with them. It’s not about whether the expense is a sacrifice for You or not. It can be something as small as refreshments at the theater. I’ve actually argued about that very thing with people I’ve gone with.
My behavior may have led You to believe that I want nothing to do with You and shopping. Here is the whole truth: I want so much to go shopping with You, that I actually fantasize about it. You selecting the things that You want to see me in. Trying them on while You watch. Being forbidden to look at price tags. Possibly experiencing “and” not “or”. Later, wearing the memories created when We were together. Having more than one white blouse to wear with what I have come to view as my Traveling to Master Uniform, knowing You bought them just for me. (That word “bought” I wanted to substitute “supplied”, “furnished”, or “gave”.) You dressing Your toy. Your toy wearing exactly what You desire instead of settling on the limitations of my barely adequate wardrobe. If everything were free I could easily see myself begging You to shop with me.
I’ve discovered no rhyme or reason in the course of this self examination. It is not about You. It is about the money. I do know that. So much so that I don’t even want to write the words associated with money and the act of spending it. What I don’t know is why.
Today I am grateful for: knowledge
Today’s funny moment: –
Training: 7.5 hours on the over night
Water: 4 liters
Corset: 24am, 23.5pm