Regrets. Regrets? No.

Short-term pain, long term gain.  Short-term gain, long term pain.  Short-term thinking, long term effects.  Short-term effects, long term consequences.  Decision-making always exposes a person to the possibility of regret.  Is it the right decision?  Is it going to hurt later?  Even if it hurts later, is it worthwhile now?

If it is not worthwhile now, how do I know it will not be worthwhile later?  Will it be too late to make a decision later?  If it is too late to make a decision later, will it hurt more later than it does now?

I have made decisions, in my life.  The most interesting decisions are always relationship-decisions.  To be (His) or not to be (His), this is always the question -- not just for me, but for those submissive personalities who yearn to be partnered with a good (male, in this case) dominant. There are complicating factors in these decisions:  and usually it involves a third person.  An absent third person, or a present third person, or a third person who (for one reason or another) is both present and absent at the same time.  (That is possible, in Second Life.)  Or maybe it involves a third person who is entirely attached in the physical realm.  Decision-making is sometimes paralyzing, and especially for someone like me who basically rests her submission on the idea of surrendering decision-making.  But here are two decisions that I would be happy to vouch for, for any submissive reading this.

a) Consideration Collar, yes.  If it's offered, take it.  You both know you like each other, but do you know if you are going to react well to each other over time?  This is a way to get to know the person before making a commitment of vulnerability.  If it's not offered, insist on it.  If it's not acceptable to the other person, there is something wrong, there.

b) Protector, yes.  If it's offered, take it.  (Do not, however, strong-arm anyone into accepting that kind of relationship -- it defeats the purpose.)  Personally, I have been blessed with a handful of outstanding protectors.  Not many.  I didn't think I needed any, of course, until I actually did need one.  Thank you, Sir Tony.  I suppose I don't thank you enough for the good that you did.  Protectors are mentors of a sort; they are wise counsel; they are an ear and a shoulder when necessary; and in the absence of a dominant who can take responsibility for decisions in the relationship, a protector can guide you through decisions that need to be made so that you don't necessarily end up with regrets at the end of that path.  (Two heads are better than one, eh?)  In the case of Sir Tony, not only was he a protector, but he knew how to create a meditative state and get to the source of things.  I keep those memories alive and I'm fortunate to have them: it was a healing time.

A year ago, I was writing about how the best was yet to come.  My journey into real submission had begun in earnest and I was opening legitimately.  I will not insult my own writing, a year ago, by claiming that I have any regrets.  After all, stories never end, and I am a patient person.  My decisions have come from a place of nobility and more care for someone else than for my own self: that means, I think, that I have never made a bad decision, even if it means that I have not indulged as other people indulge.  Integrity is my reward, I suppose.  While not a perfect analog, I recall a passage that flutters around my memory wanting to come out, from Memoirs of a Geisha:

     "Now, nearly forty years later, I sit here looking back on that evening with the Chairman as the moment when all the grieving voices within me fell silent.  Since the day I left Yoroido, I'd done nothing but worry that every turn of life's wheel would bring yet another obstacle into my path; and of course, it was the worrying and the struggle that had always made life so vividly real to me.  When we fight upstream against a rocky undercurrent, every foothold takes on a kind of urgency.

     "But life softened into something much more pleasant after the Chairman became my danna.  I began to feel like a tree whose roots had at last broken into the rich, wet soil deep beneath the surface.  I'd never before had occasion to think of myself as more fortunate than others, and yet now I was.  Though I must say, I lived in that contented state a long while before I was finally able to look back and admit how desolate my life had once been.  I'm sure I could never have told my story otherwise; I don't think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it."