a sad look back

For those who've been following my blog for years, you know me as The Strong Woman — a woman who has always craved dominance, especially in sexuality and relationships. At fifty, reflecting on my journey, I realize how much I’ve learned—and how much heartbreak has come with it.

I remember when I first started exploring female-led relationships. It excited me, this power dynamic where I could express my strength and dominance. Men reached out to me, drawn to the idea of me leading, submitting to my control. In the beginning, they seemed all in—sweet, caring, and willingly submissive. It was intoxicating.

But over time, I noticed a pattern that left me deeply confused. The men I fell in love with—almost all of them—showed what I now understand as an avoidant personality style. They craved control, but not in the way I imagined. Instead of truly submitting to my dominance, they only pretended to want it. As the relationship grew real, they slowly shifted, withdrawing their submission and stepping into control themselves, often disregarding my boundaries and needs. It was always about their needs being met.

I spent years wondering what I did wrong. How could I improve the relationship? How could I truly live my dominance when the man who was so sweet at the start became controlling, distant, and avoidant? It was always confusing because these men claimed from the beginning they wanted me to be in control—they met me through this very blog, after all, and knew exactly what I was seeking.

But the truth? They were looking for something completely different than me. While I sought vulnerability and real connection, they searched for someone willing to meet their needs on their terms, often withdrawing when I longed for closeness.

Something else I noticed over and over: all these men had dogs—and the dog’s needs always seemed to come first. It might sound silly, but there’s something profoundly hurtful about sitting next to the man you love, watching him pet the dog while your own longing goes unnoticed or even worse, is completely ignored..

I fought so hard for these relationships, for these men. I gave my all, hoping to accommodate their specific needs, hoping things would work. But they never really tried to meet mine. Instead, they withdrew whenever I needed connection. It’s taken me years—and many heartbreaks—to start putting my needs first because, honestly, they weren’t taken seriously.

In a way, my strength became a disadvantage for me. The men I loved often used me as a motherly figure—a problem solver, someone to lean on, someone who didn’t need much from them, and who helped them through their struggles. But the truth is, they never really saw me as someone they could truly submit to. Instead of embracing my dominance, they leaned into me like a refuge, without giving me the emotional surrender and respect I longed for.

update on what´s going on

Turning 50 this summer has shifted something deep inside me. I know I haven’t posted much here lately, but this milestone has cracked me open in ways I didn’t expect. For the first time, I feel an undeniable authority over my own life — a fierce determination to put myself, my own desires and needs, at the center, unapologetically.

All my life, I played the caretaker. I was always the youngest — the good girl, the attentive listener, the one pouring out care for everyone else. But now, at this threshold, it’s as if I’ve stepped into my own power. Finally, it’s my turn. My birthright, really, to be the one who is nurtured, who claims space and asks for the things she truly wants.

I don’t write about my marriage because my husband treasures his privacy, and I honor that. A lot of you know who I am—I’ve never hidden my identity for long once trust was built. So, by writing about my marriage I would also write about him. He doesnt want that and I accept that.

But there’s still so much I can share about my journey, the raw edges and the unexpected turns.

Lately, my understanding of female-led relationships, of what it means to truly lead, has changed. The urge to help, to fix, to rescue people feels almost quiet these days. I’m growing out of that calling. 

It’s not that I no longer see the best in people—I do—but I’ve lost patience for wasting energy pulling someone toward their own potential when they're unwilling to take a single step. I used to chase everyone else’s growth. Now, for the first time, I’m simply living my own.

My life feels full — career, friends, a sense of acceptance in my own skin. 

And yet, this journey has surprised me, especially in my relationships. I’m learning, that I can pour love into a man, but I cannot do his spiritual and emotional work. That heavy work belongs only to him.

And sometimes they do and sometimes they don't, lol.

When it happens though, it is beautiful. A few weeks ago, I had an experience that cracked me open even more. I have a German friend, a reader here on my blog, and for years I’ve been the dominant one in our dynamic. I helped him, steadied him, offered advice and direction. But then, when my own life spiraled with drama and grief, he called me. I couldn’t hide how broken I felt. I cried, raw and honest, while he listened on the other end.

Then, in a heartbeat, everything changed. He stepped up in a way that stunned me — calm, steady, confident. He caught me, emotionally, like a safety net, saying exactly what I needed, guiding me gently and firmly through my sadness. In those moments, it was as if his quiet power unfurled; he became my guide, my anchor. I felt deeply seen and safe. For a moment, I melted into his strength, and I realized: that power had always been there, waiting for the moment it was needed.

He is a wonderful person and I am glad he is in my life. (I haven't spoken with him since then, I feel a bit vulnerable now around him, but if you are reading this, my friend: thank you!)

Looking back on former relationships,  on the man who ghosted me, I can recognize how helpless I once felt trying to carry others through their pain. It doesn’t work. You cannot save someone who isn’t ready. We each have to walk through our darkness at our own pace.

I’m not sure where all of this is leading me or what it means for this blog. But I do know this: I am living raw and real, right at the pulse of my own life.