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 them stood before me and I could not even fulfill the calling I felt had been given to me upon arrival.
The past 4 years have come with many nights full of tones as cuddly as shattered glass. I have exploded letting off shards in every direction in the arms of my love on many occassions, and each time she has bandaged herself and held a space for me to put my puzzle back together again. Love is a safe space to grow, which means it must be a safe space for you to make mistakes, fall apart, die, and come back to life. We've walked through the awkward, confusing, and hurtful moments of learning the art of surrender with each other. We have cried, argued, and farted in the middle of sex. We have said hurtful words. We have, unintentionally, berated each other's vulnerable spaces. Yet we have also pushed ourselves to the limits of our own ideologies of self. We have spoken with kindness and compassion when speaking at all is the last thing we want to do. We CHOSE to heal, and we chose to do it together. In surrendering to each other we learned to surrender to ourselves, and in surrendering to ourselves we learned the power of vulnerability. See...true sexuality breeds freedom because it is groomed in vulnerability. It pulls you apart from your ego so you may see clearly.
In hindsight, I'm extremely grateful for the journey I have travelled with my sexuality. If it was not for the feelings of guilt & inadequacy, I would have shared my sexuality in its fullness with people that could never handle its power. I'm almost positive that would hurt worse than the experiences I've had thus far. All of these "negative" experiences have protected me time and time again from sharing that power with just anyone. Now, this is not a call for a free for all "sexcapade" with whomever, whenever, wherever. Because let's be clear my history has made sexuality a daily journey that requires a healed state of mind and constant commitment. Sex is a power that when wielded incorrectly leaves irreparable damage. To this day there are moments where I cower away from intimacy because it literally makes me feel as though a panic attack is moments away. There are moments where I cry before, during, or after sex and it's NOT from pleasure. There are still times where I'm extremely insecure and the sway of my hips slips back into it's chains. Her movements become jagged and shallow like rusted metal, and I'm holding the valve to the WD-40. But I know what freedom tastes like now, and I've learned how to unlock the chains so she never stays imprisoned for too long. THIS, This is for honest, open freedom. So...
...unchain yourself. Unleash your inner freak. Dress up. Scream. Talk dirty. Open yourself to possibility. Surrender to the moment, to the feeling. Tip the scale and find your own personal balance. Because it is here where we can unearth our fears, uproot our insecurities, and bath our garden in self-love and maturity.