The Submissive's Internal Audit: Are You Actually Submissive or Just Burnt Out?
- Amanda Sandström Beijer
- 3 hours ago
- 6 min read
The High-Performance Man Is Tired of Being “Alpha” (And Yeah, even the female CEO expected to carry the emotional load at home, clean, be in charge for the calendar etc. may be)
Here’s a scene that plays out in therapists’ offices, locker rooms, boardrooms, and late-night Google spirals across the western world: a man who’s spent a decade leading, providing, staying “in control,” and being emotionally unshakeable suddenly finds himself fantasizing about… surrendering. About someone else making the decisions. About being told what to do.
Not because he’s weak. Because he’s cooked.

The masculine cognitive load is its own special tax: be competent, be confident, be horny-but-not-needy, be successful, be stoic, be the one who “handles it.” Every day is a performance review where the KPI is manhood. Eventually the brain starts bargaining: What if I didn’t have to be strong for once?
And yes—this still happens to women too (hello, female boss burnout). But men often arrive at the same doorway with different packaging: “I’m just stressed,” “I need something intense,” “I want to be used,” “I want someone else to take over.” Same hunger, different social conditioning.
But here’s the uncomfortable question nobody’s asking either of you: Is this a sexual orientation… or is this what happens when capitalism grinds your prefrontal cortex into dust and the only escape fantasy left is someone else holding the clipboard?
Because there’s a difference between wanting to kneel and wanting a fucking nap. And if you can’t tell which one you’re craving, you’re about to make choices that won’t serve you: in or out of the dungeon.

Decision Fatigue Is Not a Kink
Let's get clinical for a second. Decision fatigue is a real, documented psychological phenomenon where the quality of your choices deteriorates after making too many of them. By 6 PM, you've already decided what to wear, what to eat, how to respond to seventeen passive-aggressive emails, whether to ghost that situationship, and how to handle your mother's "just checking in" text. Your brain is running on fumes.
Enter the fantasy: Someone else takes over. Someone tells you what to wear, what to eat, when to speak. The relief isn't sexual: it's existential. It's the same dopamine hit you get when someone else picks the restaurant.
Erotic submission is different. It's an active choice made from a place of fullness, not depletion. True power exchange, according to those who practice it with intention, involves deep self-awareness and high self-esteem. You know who you are. You choose your role. The peace comes from clarity, not collapse.
The question isn't whether submission appeals to you. It's why it appeals to you right now.
The Internal Audit: A Checklist for the Honest (Male Burnout Edition + Everyone Else)
Time to get uncomfortably honest. Grab a pen, or just sit with these questions in that quiet part of your brain that knows everything but rarely gets airtime.
1. Are you seeking subspace or just a nap?
Subspace is a trance-like, endorphin-flooded altered state that comes from sustained power exchange or impact play. It's transcendent. It's also very different from being so tired you’d let anyone make decisions for you just to feel less alone in your own life.
2. Do you want to serve, or do you just want to stop performing competence?
A lot of “high-functioning” men aren’t fantasizing about being dominated because they’re “secretly submissive.” They’re fantasizing about being off-duty. No leading. No fixing. No providing. No being the calm one. No being the human firewall between everyone else and chaos.
Ask yourself: does the idea of being given rules, tasks, or a role make you feel turned on—or does it feel like someone finally took the steering wheel away before you drive into a wall?
3. Do you want to serve, or do you just want to stop being responsible for everyone else’s feelings? (Gender-neutral marker)
Real service-oriented submission involves active engagement: paying attention to what pleases your dominant, asking thoughtful questions, investing genuine care. If what you actually want is for someone to stop expecting emotional labor from you, that’s not submission. That’s a boundary you haven’t set.
4. Is your “submission” actually a craving to be allowed softness? (Male marker)
If you were trained to think tenderness is embarrassing, D/s can look like the only socially acceptable route into vulnerability: If it’s a kink, it doesn’t count as “needy.”
Common tells: the fantasy is less about pain or humiliation and more about permission—permission to rest, to cry, to be held, to be guided, to stop being “the man.”
5. Do you crave impact for catharsis, or because you’re numb from spreadsheets?
Pain can be a reset button. It can pull you back into your body when dissociation has made you a stranger to yourself. But if you’re chasing sensation because you can’t feel anything else anymore, that’s not kink: that’s a symptom.
6. When you imagine submitting, do you feel desire or relief?
This is the big one. Desire is expansive. It makes you want more. Relief is contractive. It just wants the noise to stop. Both are valid human experiences. Only one of them is submission.

The Beauty of True Devotion
Now that we've interrogated the exhaustion masquerading as desire, let's talk about the real thing. Because authentic submission is not a vacation from adulthood. It's not a cop-out. It's one of the most intentional, architecturally complex forms of eroticism that exists.
True submission is the gift of control: offered freely, from someone who has control to give. It requires more self-knowledge than most people will develop in a lifetime. It requires you to know your limits, communicate them clearly, and then consciously choose to surrender within those boundaries.
There's a particular beauty in service: the anticipation of needs, the quiet pride in execution, the intimacy of being so attuned to another person that you can predict their desires. This isn't passivity. This is radical presence.
If you've experienced that electric current of connection that comes from being exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you were told, and feeling utterly seen in your obedience: you know. That's not burnout seeking an exit. That's something else entirely.
For those exploring the architecture of power exchange dynamics, the distinction matters. You can build a cathedral on genuine desire. You can't build one on exhaustion.
The Smart Guide: Do's and Don'ts
DO:
Communicate when you're "tapped out" versus "dropped in." Your dominant can't read your mind, and conflating burnout with submission sets both of you up for failure.
Check in with yourself before scenes. Are you coming to this full or empty?
Build a practice of self-awareness around your motivations. Journaling is unsexy but effective.
DON'T:
Use a D/s dynamic as a cheap substitute for therapy, rest, or quitting your job.
Expect a dominant to fix your life. That's not their job. That's yours.
Confuse "I want to stop making decisions" with "I want to submit." The former is a cry for help. The latter is an orientation.
The Rule of Thumb
Here's your pocket-sized diagnostic:
If you'd still want to kneel when you're on a beach in Ibiza with zero emails, no obligations, and eight hours of sleep: it's probably real.
If the fantasy disappears the moment your cortisol levels drop, congratulations: you don't need a dominant. You need a sabbatical.

FAQ: The Uncomfortable Questions
"Am I faking it?"
Maybe. But "faking" implies intentional deception. More likely, you're confused: and confusion is human. The fix isn't to perform harder. It's to pause and investigate. Your desires aren't going anywhere. They can wait for you to understand them.
"Can I be both: genuinely submissive AND burnt out?"
Yes. These aren't mutually exclusive. You can have an authentic orientation toward submission and be too depleted to engage with it healthily right now. The move here is to address the burnout first. Your kink will still be there when you're resourced enough to enjoy it.
"What if I figured out I'm not actually submissive?"
Then you've learned something valuable about yourself. Maybe what you need is better boundaries, more rest, or a partner who takes initiative in vanilla ways. There's no shame in that. Not everything that looks like kink is kink: and not everything that isn't kink is boring.
"How do I explore submission without using it as escapism?"
Start from a place of curiosity rather than desperation. Explore the psychological dimensions of BDSM when you're feeling stable, not when you're drowning. Build the dynamic slowly. Check in often. Treat it as something you're adding to your life, not using to escape it.




