Comfort or crutch?

I've been under a bit of emotional duress lately, due to issues that would possibly compromise my anonymity, and in any case, lie outside the purview of this blog.

Through it all, I can't help but wonder how much better it would be if Socrates were here. Even more than the counsel of my circle of friends, now mostly dispersed to the far corners of the country away from my university, and even more than having my parent's shoulder to cry on and pour out my troubles to, I wish that I could feel his embrace. More than his presence, though, I wish that he could exert his dominance- no, his possession of me. I want to feel that almost paradoxical mix of objectification and love, that I am his cherished possession, both because of the utility I offer him and because of who I am, with that wonderful clarity and feeling of comfort I can't begin to describe.

I can't decide whether all that means that my submission is a source of strength and comfort in times of stress, or a crutch I use to avoid dealing with my problems, and leaves me wondering perhaps if the formation of my submissive sexuality had something to do with this fleeing of my problems. Then again, I'm not convinced that's even a meaningful distinction, or whether methods of coping that are approved of are sources of strength, and methods of coping we disapprove of are crutches.

Then again, wishing for the comfort of your lover in times of distress is scarcely an unhealthy thing, even if it takes an odd form.