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Unchained: Part 1

June 14, 2017

    I stepped out the womb with curves and a mature demeanor. It's like my body and my existence understood it's essence before my mind could even grasp at the concept. I swayed my hips vivaciously and graciously all at the same time. I knew how to touch, when to touch, and where to touch ever so softly without even knowing I was doing it. I understood the power of a glance, and the art of a tease. I knew how to let my tongue move outside of my mouth as I spoke just enough to peak an interest and let an imagination do it's work. I knew how to kiss with passion before I had even felt the tsunami of raw, unadulterated love. I embodied sensuality before I even knew what sexuality was. Everyone around me saw it. My mother wanted to dampen the fire. Men were intrigued by it. And the kids my age tended to be either enamored or disgusted. And having nothing else to go on I took all their perspectives in and landed in a world of confused. I had zero understanding of ANY of it for most of my adolescence, which led to unspoken questions that led to ideologies that I was broken. Not the type of broken where it was once whole and something altered it, but rather a feeling that I had never been whole to begin with. And how could you ever hope to be something you never were? 

 

 

       So I existed in a place of disgust with myself for being too sexual too soon. I knew how to make myself orgasm in under 90 seconds by the time I was 12, and the guilt was looming. I'll never forget the day my mother looked my preteen face in the eyes and said "I know what you're doing, it's disgusting." And though she meant well that was a shattering moment for me because I did not even know what I was doing. Slowly, but surely, I gave way to the guilt. Drowning under the pressure other people's perceptions. It was a silent war. Outwardly I would brush off the rumors. Inwardly I could not understand how I could be considered those things. Sexuality, sensuality, and love are all one in the same for me so to have my expression demeaned to a paid service was heartbreaking. And all of this before I had even taken my first communion at the alter of unconditional love. I'll skip a few years for the sake of time, and to be honest they were just a series of failed attempts at awakening love before it's appointed time. The years morphed my guilt into pure disappointment and rage at my inability to be as sexual as I knew I was due to years of suppression. I lived in a fantasy in my head that I could never quite manifest in the physical. The love I had dreamed of since I was old enough to remember th