#service-sub

I still catch myself flinching at how badly I want to obey. Even when no one’s asking me to. Even when there’s no collar, no commands, no structure to lean into.

The desire itself makes me feel exposed. Small. Like I’m doing something wrong just by craving it.

I want to be told what to do. I want to be praised for doing it right. I want to feel someone’s pride in me like a weight, not a compliment.

And even though I know that part of me is powerful — full of choice, full of trust — some old part of me still calls it weakness. Still shames me for wanting to serve.

Some days I’m too tired to steer my own life. Too tired to decide what to eat, when to sleep, how to keep the edges from unraveling. The weight of every little decision makes me want to shut down.

I don’t need rescuing. I need direction. Someone steady enough to step in without asking permission. Someone who can see I’m flailing and just…take over.

Tell me it’s time to get in bed. Tell me I’ve done enough for today. Tell me I can hand it over and let go.