I’ve been quiet a long while, as life has torn me apart and remade me a few times since my last blog. Recently, I had the pleasure of a spiritual dalliance that was so much more than I felt ready for. I only knew I was on the cusp of something I had never touched before and I didn’t want to regret another opportunity. I was afraid of the intensity of how I felt. It has been so long since I allowed myself to think about surrendering to pleasure, to vulnerability with another. Yet there I was, with this man whose energy is sensuality and sex, and I was able to allow him touch me. Not sexually; I think I would have bolted if it had become outright sexual. All I could feel was my desire to surrender, to let go. To be whatever and wherever I was in the flow of those moments with him. And so, I did. I felt a fire grow in me, one I have tasted of long, long ago, yet never like this. So sharp. So full. So dangerous to my control. Once I thought something was left unmade in me, as I had never experienced what my girlfriends described. Until him.
Was it because it has been so long for me? Was it a response to him and the irresistible call of his body? I think both perhaps. To touch him so innocently and feel him react against me had me fighting for control, with the taste of his neck on my lips and an inferno in my body. It was all I could do to just stand there and breathe, pressed against him, praying that I would not let loose this thing inside me that threatened to wreck us. The intent of our meeting was not the removal of his clothes, and there I was trembling on the edge of a massive loss of control. I rode it, learned to let the energy move through me and not to hold it trapped. Eventually the intensity calmed, to my relief. I was shaken, scared, yet still salivating. How could this be happening? I have felt so alien for most of my life, as desire does not move in me often. I’m the woman that needs to be coaxed with consistency, with impeccable word, with a slow seduction before I surrender my body. Before I’d even think to allow it.
My body was so there with him in those moments, along with part of my mind. The other part was throwing up warnings like checkered flags that the rest of me ignored. What happened next? The moment changed, got quiet. I closed up, the fear caught me and had its way with my center. I felt his eyes on me and my mouth opened. Jagged glass fell out, and I vomited a river of fear. The last remnants of the blockages I had been healing splashed onto his feet and I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was feel, be there in my past pain and not stop the train of my very human moment. When I came to myself, the damage was done. Strangely enough, the feedback I received helped a lot. It has been a very long time since a man seemed to hear me and reflected back what he heard intelligently, without trying to fix it. He was beautiful in those moments, which he always is to me, just differently so.
I feel a shrinking in me when I think about what happened, yet I know that night couldn’t have happened any other way. We were both messing with things it was clear we weren’t ready for. Lesson learned. I know with much more clarity what I am transforming within myself, I just don’t know what will show up to effect the work. He has been a wonderful teacher via experience for me. That flavor of fear I no longer run from. I know that accepting pleasure is honoring the divine within. I will not forget that again. I feel more womanly than I have in over a decade, and that I will always cherish. I feel like thanking him for the divine spark jump-start, though I am unsure if he would understand. Those moments allowed me to shed the skin of beliefs that no longer serve me and hear that quiet inner voice more clearly.
I have no idea what will happen now that this fire that has been lit. I know I can choose to put it back to sleep or to let it out and teach it to dance with me.
I’ve really missed dancing.
I write about love as I see it on my blog because I don’t remember what it feels like to be loved by a lover or partner. I have been sitting for over a month with my recent heartbreak. I wonder how I got here. I planned well. I avoided love by way of having lovers. That’s what divorcees do, right? Protect their hearts while they raise their children alone. Or do they do what seemingly half the divorced population does and marry again within a year or two? I’m the other one. I open only when sparked, and that happens very rarely.
I prepared for heartbreak. I set up the perfect situation, but I forgot pieces of myself that I’d closed off in my younger, depressed years. I also mis-remembered certain important details of my former lover’s situation. Diversity is exciting, yet sometimes differences can break a relationship if communication isn’t happening(yet appears to be happening). In hindsight, it clearly wasn’t happening.
I am left feeling, for lack of a better term, used, which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. This feeling tells me that I created illusions in order to be ok with something I missed. My lover was clear in this, but our understanding of what love is and how it is demonstrated was definitely different. To me, love is a sharing. An honesty. A reveal of the things I fear about myself, an unveiling of parts of me that not everyone else gets to see.
Love is a dance of many veils being removed, one after another until you stand naked. As is. If it is good love, love that edifies, you want to dance in it because there is so much joy. If the love is fearful, full of anxiety, or selfish, it hurts. There is a range of this, which is why I often think back to the times when things “almost worked”. Why do I do that?
I am left vulnerable and open, trying to figure out why I loved so hard, when they were clear that they didn’t. Perhaps if I had felt treated with respect in more than a sexual way, in this case, I think I would be less angry. This one was not intended to work, and I was ok with that. It hurts more because the lover I knew, the one I thought was also unveiling to me wasn’t. I just wish there had been more honesty and consideration.
Since there wasn’t, my exit shouldn’t be a surprise. I do love myself. I look forward to further exploring what that means as I continue to let go and move forward with the rest of my life. I just want to meet more people that really understand how to use healthy boundaries and sharing.
A big heartfelt “Thank you!” to Zoey Hart (https://zoeyhart.wordpress.com/author/zoeyhart), for agreeing to let me use her poem on my blog. I caught it on twitter and it was perfect for use here. She gave me the courage to post this instead of just writing it to myself.