That is what the chainmaille anklet reads.
i bought it, had it handmade for twelve dollars on etsy. i figured that i could say i bought it as a little graduation gift for myself. i used to like anklets but this one is special. i bought it too big, had it made too big on purpose, hoping that the extra length would help me deal with something, anything, around my ankle. i chose one that says “believe” because i want to believe that i will rise above the panic that happens to me now. Years removed and sometimes i still wake in the night in a panic, afraid to move. Afraid that the heavy chain that used to be there will make a sound. A few heartbeats go by and i know i am home, safe, and not being held like an animal anymore.
Several weeks ago, Sir Raven and i had a conversation about restraints, and if it was something worth working through. She likes it, i think, that she can induce panic and watch me fight it by just wrapping rope around my ankle. But i was thinking the time had come to deal with it slowly, to take it back, to be able to sleep chained in a place i want to be, for a person i recognize as my Master.
Somehow, in the talk, it became apparent that Sir Raven had not realized that i had been chained for months against my will. And that this is the reason i will start to panic and bawl at anything around my ankle, especially the left one, because i had caused myself damage trying to somehow get my foot through the unrelenting chain masterlocked in place, four years ago, in a hysterical panic.
So, i’m sitting here, the anklet on, feeling silly that i have to breathe through it. Feel little slits of anxiety come up and release.
i’m hoping that when it’s warm enough for sandals, Sir Raven can adjust it, make it the proper size.
i’m hoping, by then, that it is easier. Maybe even enjoyable. It could happen. 😀
In other news, i also want to believe that this Master’s thing is going to be okay. i’m not sure i’m smart enough for this. i asked Sir Raven, who said sharply, “Don’t start.”
It is my mother’s voice i hear in my head, once in a while reminding me how she stomped out any dream i had by telling me that i wasn’t smart enough. Reminding me we had shitty southern educations and couldn’t compete up north. And Barbara, who grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, angrily demanding that i face reality and that there was no way i could get through my Bachelor’s degree.
The degree, which will have summa cum laude on it, is my middle finger to all of them.
i believed in myself when everyone said i’d come up here and not be able to make an M/s relationship work. i believed in myself when i enrolled in school to finish what i started at sixteen, the year before i met Sir Raven. i believe i can keep working for all of it and that i am lucky enough to be enslaved by someone who works as hard as i do. She believes in me, when i don’t believe in myself. i believe in her and always have, even when she doesn’t feel so sure she can pull something off. That might be one of our better qualities, as partners.
Thank you, goodliest Master, for your faith in me and in us.