On the 29th of June, I found myself sitting in a cosy coffee shop, sunlight spilling through the window, a delicious book in my hands.
As I sipped my coffee and turned the pages, a single line stopped me in my tracks. Something in what I read sparked an aha moment so powerful that I had to close the book.
I found myself reflecting on a question that I wasn’t aware I needed an answer for.
When did my shadow self first protect me?
That question sent me tumbling deep into my memories. I pulled out my journal right there in the café and began to write.
What poured out of me was the realisation that my shadow has always been both my best friend and my worst enemy.
I felt safe with her. But I’ve also been terrified of her.
I’m the first to say: What we have is evidence of what we want.
And I had to ask myself—could it be possible that, in the past, I actually liked the stress and drama? The adrenaline of not knowing how I was going to pay my mortgage?
Was it possible that I enjoyed the heartache of chasing the bad boy—the electric uncertainty of not knowing if he’d turn up when he said he would, and the ecstasy I felt when he finally did?
Was this a kink I didn’t even know I had?
Let’s unpack that.
The bad boy. Let’s name it.
I realised that deep down, I enjoyed being submissive.
Finally, I felt free enough to own my experience without shame. For so long, I told myself it meant I didn’t love myself enough. That I didn’t value myself. But none of that was true.
The truth was—I had a kink.
I liked it.
No, I loved it.
I loved how I felt overwhelmed by him. Owned by him. It felt like I couldn’t breathe without him. I just wanted to please him—to show him I was worthy of his attention.
And here’s the thing: Once I was able to name it, I could understand it.
The energy shifted from shame and pain to power and clarity.
Now, I can look back at those experiences and appreciate them for what they were: moments that showed me something vital about myself. I learned that I have a kink—and now I can consciously explore it, with partners who respect me and with whom I can create a safe container.
A space with:
- Rules
- Clarity
- Safe words
- A beginning and an end
Do I still fantasise about the bad boy? Absolutely.
I cum to the thought of him pushing me against a wall, ripping my panties off, not caring about consent. It’s part of my fantasy life—and I’m quite happy keeping it in fantasy as I nurture a better understanding and appreciation for my current relationship.
Because now, I’m with a partner who offers me safety, consent, and deep understanding. My nervous system is relaxed around him.
Look—orgasms are incredible. But I wouldn’t want to stay in an orgasmic state all day long. I’d never get shit done!
And the same goes for being in Dom space or sub space all day, every day.
That would throw me completely out of balance.
I need space to be balanced, whole, and to honour all parts of me.
On reflection, I realised that all this chaos, uncertainty, and intensity was also how I’d learned to connect to my father. It was my way of proving myself—of showing that I could survive anything. There was always this rush of “well done me” once I got through the hardship.
But I finally saw the truth: I was the reason why my life wasn’t easy and flowing.
Once I realised that not only did I hold the power—but that I also knew how to implement change—everything shifted.
I discovered that I could create magic. That I could live a delicious life filled with love, ease, and abundance.
And that’s the gift my shadow gave me.
With love and power,