How Childhood Influences Our Personality

I have mentioned long ago that my childhood was rocky. It wasn’t full of abuse towards me, but it was full of insanity. My dad and mom fought almost all the time. I was pretty much my mom’s caretaker at a young age. It always amazes me how the first 18 years of your life can have such an impact on you. The time when you need the most stability is the time when you get it the least.

I believe that my submission comes out of that time. Maybe…maybe not. I simply don’t know. I don’t know if my need to nurture others was because it’s innate in me, or was it innate because I was forced to do it and be the person who guided and protected my own mother? Those answers, I’m afraid I’ll never know. As it stands now, my submission is my comfort zone. It’s where I relax and feel comfortable. Pleasing. Making people smile. Trying to make them happy. It’s not to say I haven’t had people in my life I gave up on. I do. When that happens I tend to be so abused, so hurt, so beaten down, self-preservation cuts them out of my life in some way. The hurt is so deep that the only healing can happen when they leave my life. It doesn’t happen often. And I always, always wish to go back and hug them again, but by the time that feeling does happen, the pattern of hurt is so long and so hurtful, I simply can’t. When I say long, I don’t mean weeks, or months, or even years. I mean decades. Decades of hurt that can’t be wiped away. Decades of pain that cut so deeply, I must hide to protect myself, my little or my family.

I’ve talked much about Sophie in the past, and she is the part of me who feels the pain the most. She tries the hardest to please, she gets the most upset over thinking someone rejects her or chooses others or hurts those she loves. It’s painful. It’s from not being protected properly, it’s from needing to be a protector at a young age. Was she born with the need to protect or was she pushed into the need to cultivate the protective gene? I truly don’t know. What I do know is this- She won’t let anyone hurt those who she needs to protect. She protects many people, from her children, her daddy, even herself. She may retreat and send mommy to handle it all, but she always protects her loved ones.

So my submissive nature started long before there was sex, long before there was a dominant to draw it out, long before I could grasp what a submissive woman was. It was simply always there for whatever reason. Daddy often calls me the warrior submissive (see post about the warrior submissive)- probably because I’m not weak, and I can be fierce, and I protect till death. I protect and stand up for what is right. My desire to protect is strong and unconditional.

In the same breath I need protection myself from the people who hurt me the most. Daddy makes sure that won’t happen. And if it does? He’s there to stop it. I have always felt horribly afraid. Horribly alone, but those days for Daddy and I are over. No one, and I mean no one, will hurt us without the other one right there to step on front of them and demand they stop. It’s courageous and comforting. It’s a return to the days when we had to do it at an age in our when we were way too young to handle it. We finally feel protected. We no longer feel like it’s all on us. The weight is lifted. The clouds gone and the gloomy fear departed. The need to feel nurtured and protected is finally real and unconditional. Smile. I am finally a whole person. Maybe I’m all glued back together and maybe there are cracks in this broken person but it’s whole. And daddy made that happen.

And it fucking feels good.

Thank you, Daddy, I love you more each day,

Sugar

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s