A Case of Empty Bed Syndrome

I posted a long time ago about this issue, here.  Most days I am too damn tired or just emotionally disconnected from that aspect of my sexuality, often intentionally delineated because I do not have the space and time in my life to wrestle with it and its feelings. But this morning, even last night, as I laid down all I wanted was someone in my bed, to hold me.

It is hard to deal with but thankfully often easy to forget in the swirl of papers and everything of the deep security of that human contact, of any really deep human contact, especially that from a man. And I will even say it's a little frustrating to be reminded that I do really need it and that it can make me feel all sorts of things I don't know if I really want to at this time. I don't blame the reason for these feelings. But it has given me big things to consider. Like why I felt guilt, like I was cheating on X. Now my brain and heart know it's been a very long time since X and I were a couple and I know he's not coming back around, and as much as I love him, he and I are slowly drifting apart in time and life - what either of us truly needs we are neither.

Now I know there will be questions of subplot/background, I will say only that MW stopped by for a visit during one of his many intentional wanderings across the country. It was crazy to think of the circumstances we had met under all those years ago in the Fall of 2007, even crazier to think that the date that ended with a handshake and a slightly bruised heart for me, became a great supportive friendship where hugs are safe place and a place of growth.

That growth? I realized something sad and profound about myself, the size of my partner/interest has since CEF, and even before him had a significant weight in my life. Not their weight but their height, their presence. It's this small place of fear that still somehow has a voice that says if he's bigger than me, he can hurt me. I realized that this semester when a new student being friendly struck up a conversation with me, and all I could think was you're too tall and at the same time why the NLLL am I scared.

I guess I'm always a work in progress - and who knows maybe that's why the space in the bed next to me is empty - it's where my brain needs to reside on mornings like today rather than the warmth of a safe man.

Postscript: Apparently I forgot to mention that now I'm fighting off the needies? The conscious understanding that what I want and what I need may be fine but the expectation that someone else can, should or even be asked to address those needs is beyond unfair... putting the head before the heart before the other h words too

So I am Here Again

I had the privilege of hearing a local writer speak today as part of the class I am in.  She echoed what Arundhati Roy says about writing - we have a duty to occupy a space where there is under representation or the wrong representation.  I have known that about my life story - I know I need to write it out as there is a significant under representation of the long term effects of abuse - the fear, the anxieties that always seem to sit just below the surface - there but not.  It has been a really long journey to this point - 2 years and counting.  Some days it still breaks me, some days that which is always under the surface is not happy being unseen.  Today is one of those days.  Oddly enough I had Make it or Break it on while making dinner, and this song came on.  I started to cry almost instantly.  I am a crier in many situations - this one though surprised me and maybe it's all the stress of school and packing finding their release.  But...

I felt like it was not just that, it was more.  I run because running is my way of reminding myself I am up to the challenge - what I thought would destroy me leaves me stronger.   It reinforces the positive belief I can walk away from the pain of the past, and walk towards a future where I know myself, where I know my strength, my value, my beauty as me, my uniqueness.  I know those on the surface sound superficial and vain.  But they are not - they are the things that we all deny ourselves.  We whether we are abused/abuse survivors and just going through life - we - men and women, deny ourselves the sacredness of who we are, of our voices, of our journeys. It also reminds me I can do what scares me.  It is like a flashback of the last two years - pain and fear can be overcome for something beautiful even if you want to puke from the anxiety when the gun goes off - it is a slow process - it is a process that is so so worth it.  I find it hard in these moments not only to remember the above, but to remember the distance - the growth, the goodness in the journey.  The demons I still carry can be my muse, they can be used for my good rather than my harm... Yep so while I go off to have a cathartic cry I leave you with some profound lyrics: