I’ve been behind the scenes doing something pretty intensive work with myself again. That mirrors so strongly the work that led me here and ultimately helped me heal my body miraculously. (If you are new here, see the very first blog to get caught up)
However, I realize now, that was only a piece to the puzzle of reclaiming my body and my power.
It was another one of those moments in your soul blueprint, where AGAIN the light gets turned on and it helps you see everything you forgot about. I realized that I truly have not had a libido or much of a sexual urge in over a year. I had been passing this off by not being attracted to anyone around me, or not having sexual engagement, or being sexually intimate. However, the Universe and guides quickly clued me in to see the truth. The truth that this disconnect and disassociation came from a deeper place within me. That I had become disconnected from my sexuality because I learned it wasn’t needed when it wasn’t called upon and when there was not another person outside of me to determine when it was of use. I realized that I had disconnected from my body as a means of dealing with trauma and as a means of not wanting to confront the stories and conditioning that I had held here.
It then manifested as a creative block. I have danced my whole life. All of a sudden, I stopped. I have written my whole life and loved expressing myself through this outlet, and then I felt like I was not even able to write, and feel connected to my creative writing process. I then even saw this pattern showing up in my social media space as it became somewhere where I would share what was in alignment with how I served and not with what I truly wanted to create and share. I shared what was expected of me. I realized that years of body dysmorphia manifested as a result of disconnecting from my body and my sexual energy. I realized that perfectionism became a source for me to channel all the suppression and in a way that I would never live up to, feeding the wound around my sexuality further. I began to outline every little trigger I still had to see that they traced back to my connection with my body and sexuality.
I had just grazed the surface of healing this part of myself. I had forgiven all the intimate partners I had been with for there actions. I had been working on no longer having a trigger, or PTSD around being touched in certain ways and places (even none sexual) that mirrored the actions of past abusive partners. Yet, I missed the biggest step of all. I forgot to forgive myself, I forgot to apologize to my body, I forgot to allow my body to release all the energies stored in my womb that would ultimately lead to haunting me now years later. I forgot to actually give MYSELF some space to grieve, to cry, to mourn, to feel anger, rage, sadness, devastation, and all that comes from the big realizations that you so quickly brush off when you’re young.
I started to really allow myself to feel into my relationship to sexual energy. I went all the way back to when I was a child. I was very in tune and in touch with my body without anyone telling me what was what, showing me, walking in on my parents, or something crazy! None of that was needed. Safe to say my soul said “oh yup, i’ve been here before and if you touch this right there that brings you great pleasure”. Of course I hadn’t yet formed any idea around what this was called, or what exactly it was, but I was in tune with it. However, when I was discovered self-pleasuring myself at such a young age, I was scolded and questioned endlessly. It was shamed. I remember being two-years-old and having some sort of strange “intervention” to uncover if sexual abuse was to cause for my advanced awareness of pleasure. Many around me thought there had to be some traumatic cause for me self-pleasuring myself and knowing how to do so at such a young age. I was told it was not okay and was ultimately shamed horrifically. Yet, I didn’t stop. I just learned to hid, to be quiet, and to hurry. I remember crawling into closets and under beds to experience this pleasure and was so so confused at a young age why this was “bad”. No one would dare explain it to a 2-year-old let alone a 5-year-old. So I continued finding pleasure quickly, in a hidden space, and quietly. I learned to control my body during these oncomings of sexual bursts and learned to control the way my body reacted to pleasure.
In my adult years I had apprehension about intimately expressing my sexuality with a partner. I didn’t want there to be pressure and I didn’t want there to be a confinement for that space. I carefully choose my first experience and partner making sure there was no relationship attached, but yet had a safe container to explore. It was easy, there was no pressure, no condemning, and nothing at risk if it didn’t go well. I had control of the experience because I picked the person and so forth. Yet, little did I know that is where my relationship to sexual energy took on a huge twist due to the result of the shame I received as a child. Control. You see, I learned to control, to confine, to be quiet, to control my body during this time of intimate pleasure as a means of hurrying, not being heard, and not being seen. Here, in this first experience, I was again controlling the situation, controlling my body. Was it painful? No. Was it absolutely mind-blowing? No. Did I really feel anything, no. It was an action that really didn’t connect with my body any longer due to the need to move through it as quickly as possible. To hurry and rush and get to a climax and then be as quiet and controlled about it as possible. I couldn’t let my body get too out of control, I couldn’t let the energy expand and shake through me, I couldn’t let it echo through my voice. I had to be quiet. Yes, parents were upstairs, yes I was a teenager, yes I believe I even snuck in so had to “hide”. Just replicating and attracting my learned experience to my sexuality all over again.
This energy of control continued. The patterns continued and amplified. I learned that sex was something that was okay whenever it was called on. Whenever someone gave me permission, it was okay to engage. It was needed when someone else wanted it, and I fell into a pattern of control at a even deeper level. I ended up in a sexually toxic pattern with an individual out of the need to feel wanted. I realized when in a distorted relationship to my sexual energy, I didn’t feel wanted or worthy. If I didn’t receive someone interested in having sex with me or interested in me romantically, I felt disconnected, unwanted, and unworthy. So I learned, in order to feel wanted, I’ll go to where I’m called. The pattern that unraveled with this individual became something that made me feel wanted. It was toxic, and when leaving a friends house or a party, if he called, I’d immediately go. It was just sex. Yet, it was so much more than that for me. It was a outlet to feel I was needed and worthy, that I was wanted. But, it wasn’t me that was actually wanted. It was just my body. Just using a body to fill a mirroring void. We triggered each other in a contagious cycle, calling on one another to show up whenever we needed to numb the gaping wounds within us. It started as what most would consider just “hooking up”, but then boundaries were crossed. It became a space I went to punish myself, and where he became the punisher. It became a space where I allowed him to do whatever he wanted to my body as a means of pleasing him and punishing myself for being so “unworthy”. It became a space where I was sexually assaulted, gritting my teeth and holding back tears as my hair was ripped violently out of my head and he forcefully entered me. The days after waking to see the bruises pressed into my skin like the marks of a sinner who deserved to be condemned.
My relationship with my mother has been the biggest test of my entire life. When things were not good in her life, it was as if she poured all the blame on to me. I carried the weight of her world on my shoulders, and felt that I was responsible for whatever unhappiness she was feeling. This led to a toxic cycle and dynamic with her growing up, that caused malicious arguments and manipulative tendencies that left me truly believing that I was to blame for everything that did not go right within our household. It left me rushing to find a source to punish myself, to take away the heaviness, to numb myself up so I didn’t have to feel her pain, and the distorted illusions that I was to blame for all the unhappiness within my home.
Some people run to cutting as a means of self-harm. However, this was my self-harm. This toxic sexual pattern, this cycle, this relationship if you can even call it such became my self-harm. When things went wrong at home and when I felt I wasn’t good enough, that’s where I’d go in the late hours of the night or during daylight when no one else was home. I’d go to meet this punishment, putting myself in unsafe hands and in a unsafe environment as a means of “getting what I deserved” and as a means of coping. This continued for years intermittently. I’d leave crying in tears and then be yelled at told to get the fuck out because I was emotional.
I was bent over coffee tables, in showers, and in cars whenever it was wanted. I was just there to give. Did it appear that I was having a good time? No, it was pretty obvious I wasn’t. Yet, I was perfect prey for the abuse that I accepted. Until one day,
he came over when no one was home. He tried forcing himself onto me. My flight or fight kicked in and I kept struggling to pull him off me. I said NO, for the first time. Yet, it wasn’t heard and it wasn’t enough. I said LEAVE. Still, wasn’t enough. Finally, he caught a glimpse of my neighbors cop car out the window and that was enough to drive him out the door. Reality began to sink in that I wasn’t just allowing this anymore, that it was on the verge of rape. I than began to withhold sex as a control mechanism, yet still saw this person from time to time for years after this event… whenever my body was wanted.