Hidden In Plain Sight

He touches my belly. I love that. There’s no tentative uncertainty as to what’s allowed and what isn’t. I have given him permission to my body, and he accepts and trusts that.

He tells me I’m sexy. And somehow I actually believe him when he says it. With such authentic conviction it’s impossible not to.

He fucks me exactly how I love. Rough, hands pulling hair, on my throat. But it was when he spit on my face that I truly melted.

He says he wants to learn me. What I like. What turns me on. It’s impossible to explain that everything turns me on. It’s the way it all comes so naturally to him and he doesn’t even realise. It’s just a matter of him learning to trust himself and that it’s there, between us, already. His touch. That look he gets.

I lay awake next to him wondering what he sees in me. The thing that he seems to revere so much. I can’t see it. But somehow he manages to make me trust that there’s something there.

I’m pretty lost at the moment. Once upon a time Someone told me I was a slave, and I believed them because it seemed true. But my last experience didn’t go so well, and has left me super confused. I don’t know if it was me perhaps not actually being a slave that was the problem? Hindsight does show that I made a lot of big mistakes. Or maybe I chose wrong? Or both? I don’t know. Either way, I’ve lost trust in myself.

But now I’m in some kind of limbo unsure of where to go or what to do. I feel very “balk-y” at the idea of slavery or even giving anyone any power over me now, and although I have a wonderful fwb whom I adore, the “kink world” is just so hollow and only scratches the surface. I find myself coming here and wanting to participate, and watch from the sidelines, but I no longer have such an unwavering faith in my ability to try to give that level of devotion again. At least not enough to want to consider stepping back into any form of power exchange, or even relationship for that matter, any time soon. Today someone told me that I shouldn’t go into relationships with a “forever” mindset and that really hit hard for some reason, because I don’t know how else to be “all in” if it’s not with the idea of wanting to be there forever. Above all it made me realise that I have no reference points anymore. Things I felt sure about are gone.

My first focus after everything ended was to try to scrape back together some form of self worth, but it feels kind of empty without the somewhat naive levels of hope and belief I once carried. It feels like someone told me Santa isn’t real. And I’m terrified of becoming one of those bitter hags that goes through life miserable because they were too scared to try again 😕 I want to be a joyous hag! 🤪

It’s not a lack of meeting wonderful men. I’m just reluctant and afraid of making the same mistakes, or choosing wrong, and I’m not the sort of person to be with someone simply because I can’t be alone. I know I don’t function well solo, but I’d rather struggle than use someone just to make my life easier. Maybe my heart just isn’t ready. Actually, there’s no maybe… clearly my heart isn’t ready.

I worry I’m trapped in a place of my own doing, but don’t know how to get out of it.

“How can you be so gentle

in a world that is so harsh?” They asked.

“When you are strong on the inside,

you can afford to be soft on the outside,

for there is no need to prove

what already exists within,” she answered.

   ~?●?~

“Fall in love gently. Remind yourself that you are the longest relationship of your life. Remind yourself that you are a child of this universe and that you are worthy of happiness. Fall in love with the way you feel things deeply. The color of someone’s laughter. The texture of someone’s kindness. The nostalgia of going back to places that caused you so much pleasure and pain. You are an old soul trapped in a body that’s slowly, slowly decaying. You are a traveler of both the outer world and the inner world. Fall in love with your failures. The events that shaped you into becoming who you are today.

Embrace your shortcomings for they serve as a lesson in your formless memory. Forgive yourself for everything that is causing you so much pain. It is a brutal process, and you must get through it. Self-hate can only generate more worry in your life. Let it go. You don’t have to carry it forever. Fall in love with your body. Romanticize it. The freckles on your face are constellations. The heart-shaped birthmark right behind your hips. The positive aura of your gummy smile. The way that your body is working hard to keep you alive like electricity lighting up a whole city on a cloudless night.

Fall in love with your existence. The little things that make you who you are. The poetry that you write. The instrument that you play. The way you put your makeup on as you face another challenging day. These little things that make you who you are come from the way you express your being. Fall in love with yourself until you finally feel like home.”

— Juansen Dizon

‘You don’t always have to pick up all the pieces, bub,’ he said.

My mind stopped mid conversation. What? That statement hit like a tonne of bricks. “I feel obligated to pick up all the pieces,” I replied. “Not just my own, but those of everyone around me.” I sensed it was a role I had been playing for most of my life. The problem solver. The advice giver. The carrier of burdens. The helper. The fixer.

I imagined for a moment what it could be like to remove that hat. Relief washed over me. I imagined the freedom. I don’t always have to pick up all the pieces. What would that even look like?

An age-old story popped her head up… “If you don’t, who will?” “Everything will fall apart.” “That’s not safe.”

Not a story. A reality growing up. I was the one who created calm amidst chaos. It was my role. Looking back, a rather gargantuan responsibility for a child to carry. Looking now, a rather exhausting responsibility for an adult to carry.

What if I hung that hat up? What would happen? Would everything really fall apart?

A part of me is excited at the prospect of not feeling like I have to carry that weight anymore.

Courage is choosing the unknown.

Bravery is sitting in the vulnerability of not knowing what will happen there.

And Integrity is doing the work despite the fact that it won’t get you accolades.

The Feminine feels pain when he is not present.

The Masculine feels pointlessness when she is not loving.

It is the quality of his consciousness that allows the feminine to blossom, to open, to feel the fullness of herself as love.

She craves his consciousness, and she aches when she doesn’t receive it.

Sure, on her own she can find nourishment in the beauty of nature, or she can resource herself with the presence of her own self-care…

Yet for those feminine beings who love men, there is something she gets from him that she cannot get anywhere else.

The depth of his presence.

A powerful masculine presence from someone she wants will evoke involuntary ripples of energy and arousal through her body.

It will have her innately open with the yearning to receive him into her.

His consciousness brings her to fullness… the essential feminine experience.

And when it goes away, it hurts.

When he drifts off to check out another woman, the stab of agony is overwhelming.

When his attention is focused on the mundane and the trivial, tension fills her body.

When he chooses low consciousness activities, giving his precious attention to empty television, porn or alcohol… the disappointment is crushing.

Because she wants that attention.

If she could, she would have all of it…

ALL the time.

Of course we are human, and no man is superman

(sadly many polarity teachings have set us up to fail here)

So she can, and will, tolerate some degree of wavering presence.

The degree to which she is capable of holding the purity of love, actually.

Yet it still hurts.

But…

As polarity flows, there is the less talked about yearning of the masculine.

Just as she needs his presence,

He needs her love.

It is the love of the feminine that brings meaning to a man’s life.

Oh he may find purpose in the world in many ways.

Yet without the warmth of her, there is no point.

Because it’s all for her.

He builds cities for her

He makes money for her

He drives luxury cars for her

Behind every man’s ambition is the secret, or not so secret, desire for it to be given colour by the feminine.

She makes a house into a home.

She makes life into something worth living.

The love of a good woman makes a great man.

She holds the nectar that sweetens his existence.

And when that love disappears, when it dries up… none of it means anything anymore

This is why we see such high rates of suicide in men.

You can guarantee that in every instance it’s because he could not gain the love of a woman, or he lost the love of a woman, or he feared he was going to lose the love of a woman.

Maybe he got fired, and fearing that he could no longer provide for her… that she would no longer love him.

Without her love, life is empty.

Pointless.

The unconscious woman, just like the unconscious man with his lack of presence, takes this love away all the time.

Every criticism…

Every belittling…

Every time she points out what he’s doing wrong…

He is hearing “I don’t love you”

It’s why he defends so intensely.

It’s why he struggles to hear her complaints.

She might believe she is helping him grow.

But if she uses the withdrawal of love to make her point…

She is hurting him.

Just as much as he hurts her when he removes his attention from her.

Presence and Love.

The gifts we bring to each other as the masculine and the feminine.

Sacred gifts…

When they are cultivated and offered generously,

Intimacy thrives.

When they are disregarded, weaponised or withdrawn,

Intimacy dies.

This is the practice of Evolving in Relationship

To give our sacred gifts

So that together

We may thrive.

~ Damien Bohler~

Hope is contagious. I never realised this until last night.

She wanted to go to see the fireworks for NYE… in the city… with thousands of people.

These days I couldn’t think of anything worse. But I had to remember that when I was 19, it’s something I would’ve been excited about too. So I agreed. After all, it’s my job really.

That afternoon I began the tedious task of working out the logistics of how to make it doable, with as little stress and anxiety triggers as possible. Thankfully though, when we met up, she had a plan… and it was a great plan. The place we found ourselves was on the outskirts of the city, with perfect views, surrounded by a chilled bunch of people relaxing on the grass with picnic blankets and nibblies. Definitely more my pace… and hers too it seems. Doing this job has definitely made me begin to believe that nothing is coincidental. It never ceases to amaze me how well my clients and I match.

We celebrated the coming in of the New Year, and then headed home. It was in the drive home, listening to her excitement about the coming year, placing so much emphasis on this changeover, that I came to realise I had lost that sense of hope. And recognised also, how sweet it is. Maybe it was that, combined with being taken back to the days where I would stare with a child’s eyes at the wondrous display of awe-invoking, colourful bursts into the night sky… but a small, long-forgotten part of myself become reignited, and I couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of possibility. I smile as I write this. It feels good. It feels innocent. It feels honouring to allow myself that somewhat childish hope that this year… this year might be different. Different from what, I don’t know. But it feels kind of nice to just let go and play along. To put the “adult” on the backburner for a moment.

So, here’s to a New Year. I hope you can reconnect to that part of you that believes in magic and wonderment ?