I hesitate to post this, as I don’t want to wallow in self-pity but I need to get this off my chest. Due to some… life circumstances, I’ve been doing a lot of introspection lately. I was wondering if I’m alone in thinking that sometimes, having this kink can cause a certain natural inclination towards melancholia, or like a deep nostalgic longing for something impossible to be true, and for someone to love in that unreachable reality.
Now don’t get me wrong, there are many things I enjoy about this fetish, and I wouldn’t want to be rid of it. Like it both hurts and comforts me, causes me guilt and happiness, brings me anxiety and peace. It’s just difficult to explain exactly how it makes me feel lonelier than it should be possible. For me, SW has always been such a strong desire, even beyond the sexual aspect. Faced with the impossibility of ever having a tiny lady of my own - as utterly ridiculous as I know this statement to be - it’s bringing me way down. It’s not that I would want all of this to be real all the time, but not sharing that silly dream with anyone I loved made it doubly non-existent. There’s this huge part of me that no-one has ever seen.
In my life I’ve spent so much time in my mind, imagining things that cannot be, and never sharing this secret garden with anyone, even with those very close to me. Again it’s both a blessing and a curse, and to some extent I’d much rather live in my fantasies than in reality. Having a rich inner world and keeping some of my childhood wonder alive did protect me from the heavy cynicism that usually comes with age. I’m just not built to face some rougher aspects of this reality head-on, and withstand years and years of having my dreams crushed.
All this rambling to say I’ve started therapy, and I’m thinking of mentionning my kink to my therapist. I’m still unsure if it’s a good idea. I don’t think my fetish was born from trauma or negative emotions, but the way I’ve lived with this inside me for all those years brought only troubles in my past relationships, and caused me to retreat and flee further into the depths of my mind. Yet, there are people, real people who need me and depend on me in reality, and I don’t feel like I’m here and there enough for them. It’s just been so rough.
“Do you know that place between asleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you.”