Hallow Presence

I've always been good at reading my partner. A slight shift in Her demeanor, a bubbling frustration, a withheld grief, a distant apathy. And though I didn't always know what it was specifically that She might need in those moments, I could always read Her moods rather well.

However, this was mostly an unconscious trait—an adaptive strategy or skill from childhood—and therefore used protectively, or selfishly instead of as something that I could use to be of service to Her.

Most times I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. For instance, maybe She had a bad day. And maybe it was bad in a way where there's no way to actually "fix" it—the only solution was to just deal with it, to endure it... This happens often in life because, despite what we might want to believe, we don't control all the levers and buttons of our circumstances.

Anyway, there would be times that i would be there for Her. And because I didn't know what to say, I said nothing. Unbeknownst to me, this was plenty enough because in those moments She only needed my presence.

But I didn't get it. And in those moments I felt feelings of helplessness because I couldn't "fix" the problem. because I couldn't "make things better." And because I had no clue what my presence actually meant to Her.

Which means there were other times when I saw Her. When I felt that She was feeling down. And I couldn't cheer Her up. I couldn't solve Her problem. I couldn't make things right... Those feelings of helplessness would creep in.

And to just sit there, to be pulled into the frustration of another, the grief of another, and to be helpless with Her... my, how unbearable it all seemed... Instead of sharing the empathy in that, I avoided the feelings. And Her pain. I chose to protect myself—my comfort—rather than choosing to be there for Her like I vowed. Not just as a husband or a submissive, but as a lover of Her soul...

Many of these failures weren't major incidents, or even really noteworthy events. just small betrayals—tiny fractures—that added up across time. Inconsistencies that eroded trust and proved me less reliable and less safe than I presented myself as.

And the assumed trivialness is what makes it so difficult to see. Because the ego is able to conjure up so many excuses to protect itself:

• "It's not a big deal."
• "She told me it was okay."
• "There's nothing I can do, anyway."
• "I can't handle this right now."
• "I'm also hurting."

But this is guarded, not submissive. Selfish, not loving. And once you understand that the point isn't fix or hold everything together, but to make space for Her feelings to exist and be witnessed, then you can understand the pain of absence. And how that hurt is multiplied when you're close, but distance...

It wasn't until I did the inner work needed to sit in my own emotions—my own insecurities, fears, doubts, resentments, shortcomings, and hurt—and truly witness them instead of hiding or avoiding them... to be accountable for the hurt I inflicted through them (being dismissive, impatient, invalidating) instead of excusing my behavior away... it wasn't until then that I could begin healing the damage I caused.

So, to me, that's what it means to have presence—that true masculine presence. We often associate it with the capacity to shoulder and solve problems, because that's what we do as men. But really, true presence is the willingness and courage to stay in the moment when nothing can be fixed or solved.

And as a submissive guy, this distinction is even more important because the role isn't necessarily to step in to control and fix everything. It's primarily focused on having the capacity to hold space for and support the Woman in my life. To be someone stable She can lean on and rest in. And I can't hold space for Her when I'm unable to hold my own... I can't bear witness to Her grief and pain if I'm unable to witness my own...

Anyway. Just a few thoughts.