My Covering

My Covering

I try to do my best every day to obey my husband and do what he tells me to do. Inside I feel like God has favored me by giving him to me as my covering; my provision and my protection. He shields me from the world, keeping me there under his wing and in his love. He is my choice. I chose him so long ago whenever I was young. Even in the times that I didn’t want to follow him, I still did, because I didn’t always have much of any other choice. I went with him, as he is my only source of provision in this life so I followed where he led. If he doesn’t listen, then he causes me pain and suffering. If he doesn’t understand, I hold that resentment inside. That’s why he must listen to what I say to him, to the things that my heart needs inside. He must listen to me with love and understanding as he was called to do, putting me above all others, as I do with him in return.

But there is love unimaginable. Whenever I’m lying there with him in the night, I know that I’m safe. It’s safe to let him inside of my body. I can take every bit of him in with love, as I know I’m safe to do so. He’s my covering and I don’t have to fear his abandonment come the morning. I can’t describe that feeling nor that joy whenever he’s inside of me. Sometimes I wonder how anything could ever feel or be so good. To be filled physically by one and only one man that I love and rely on, I know it’s safe to simply open up and relax. There’s something wonderous in the way my female form was made. I love the feel of it, to relish in it.

I don’t feel degraded when I’m lying there under him. In some sense I do feel inferior, but it is only in a good way; inferior in the sense that I know I’m subject to him, yet I have worth and value beyond compare, value that goes far beyond just the physical. All I have to do is ask and he’d give it to me. I know that I am cherished above all other women, beloved above all others. My position is important. There’s something so precious about it, to know how he invades me on the inside, and how I long for him to do so. The most private and intimate of things that I delight in in wonderment, that I would be horrified beyond words to just share with anyone. It’s beautiful beyond words the way my body was made. I have no reason to be scared or sad after the act is over, as it is an act of love, and not of temporary perversion, of the man that I love, of the only man who has ever lain with me, the same man who I have relied on for years.

The way I love him when I’m scared or in danger, the way I come to him. Many times has he picked me up in his arms and carried me; many times have I rested my head against his chest and let him protect and hold me. So easy is it for him to overpower me, but I know he would never hurt me. I delight in the feeling and strength of his arms. The few nights that I have ever been without him were nights of loneliness, pain and fear. If I left him temporarily, it’s like his covering was removed from me, and I was extremely frightened. I’ve always depended on him for my livelihood, knowing no other life but a truly patriarchal one. Yet I know I’ve never been oppressed. I have been favored and loved. I pursue my dreams and passions, yet I do so there under his covering. And I do know the power he has over me in that I have no means to provide for myself. And it’s OK. If I’m depending on him then I need him. If he is providing for me, then I know I am secure. When there is no mixing of the roles, then there is no confusion or contempt. I ask him for the things I need. I feel happy and free. Free to be soft, feminine, devote myself to my home and family and focus on being a woman. His covering allows me to be a feminine woman who doesn’t have to toughen up to focus on advancing in the work world. I don’t have to devote my time to hardening myself and focusing on moving up the career ladder.

Coverture has protected me from being out in the world to be raped, abused, harmed or harassed by other men, or by others in general. Sometimes when I have gone through hard times I’ve stopped and wondered, asked, that if there was really a God out there, then what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to be? For the last few months I’ve felt this voice inside of me, perhaps an intuition trying to guide me, that speaks to me. But that voice has never told me to be independent, to go out and conquer the world or anything of the sort. The only thing that I hear inside is this voice telling me just to be a woman. And there is something precious inside. My very feminine essence I feel is so precious. And it’s precious when I’m with him, most precious of all the way I feel when he’s inside of me, most precious when he kisses me. I’m odd for the times we live in today, but I am no different than the women who came before me. Above all, I was made to be a woman. I was made to be loved and to be delighted in, that feminine essence inside of me so powerful and unique.

 

Recommended:

The red pill philosophy in action