Hidden In Plain Sight

It can become an addiction in and of itself. The desire to be seen. After a lifetime of hiding and feeling invisible, when we experience feeling seen for the first time it’s like finally breathing air we knew we had once breathed, but couldn’t quite remember. We come to life. We shout it from the rooftops. And we want more. More. More. More.

We do whatever it takes to get that fix again.

Kneel, beg, Demand, fight. Information-dump. We know the price. It requires some form of “connection.” So we rush the connection to get the goodies. Reaching a point of simply lugging around our suitcase of stuff and dumping it into the lap of anyone who glances our way. “Sort through this as quickly as possible because I want my next fix, NOW!”

I did this. I so desperately needed to feel seen. And yet it also felt unsafe, but I never knew why. Now I know. I was forcing it to get the outcome. I was forcing myself and the other. It was artificial connection. But I’ve started wondering, what’s the rush? Why do I need to share everything as quickly as possible? Why don’t we unwrap each other slowly? I’ve realised I want to do that nowadays. I want to take the time to learn someone, and have them learn me. No rush. No desperation. Just curiosity.

The successful, fit, smart, confident, skinny, fashionable, perfect girlfriend… all the things society tells us we should be.

I am all things opposite- curvy, languid, emotional, messy, lost… all the things seen as weakness.

Him. The super fit, hot, sporty, successful, has-his-shit-together, guy. Cheat. Who crawls into my arms just so he can breathe.

No one would suspect it.

When I run my hands over his body, I can’t believe it’s real. Abs like that only exist in magazines. There are moments in between where shame creeps in. About everything. What we’re doing, the enormity of this secret, the potential devastation.

And then he pours himself into those cracks and fills them. Touches me… and I forget. Everything.

Teasing. Taunting. Electric. With a purpose that I don’t think even he is aware of.
Our bodies speak a language that our tongues are not privy to.
Devouring me like a man starved. And I, him. Sometimes he stares at me like a creature he has never seen. Something magnificent. And I wonder what it is that he’s missing, that he comes searching for in me. Enticing a self I always knew was there but could never reach, to the surface, so he can possess her if only for that moment. Is that it?

I’m not looking for love or validation.
He will never be mine, nor I, his.

Maybe that’s what makes him so safe.

** although it ruins the “shock value” intended, past experience has taught me that sometimes a disclaimer is wise, so: before you grab your pitchforks, please be aware this is fiction. For those who know my writing, you’ll be aware that sometimes I like to push buttons- my own included- and write about things that make us uncomfortable 😊. 

***also- because I fear this has to be said… this isn’t an invitation. Just, No.

Road trip 😊

Everyone is so emotionally intelligent nowadays they completely miss the part where love sometimes means being patient with someone who's still figuring things out.
We've learned the language of boundaries and red flags so well we forget that healing doesn't always look pretty or perform well. We live in a time where one wrong text can end a connection and one imperfect moment can brand someone as unsafe. Where protecting your peace is sometimes just avoiding intimacy. We confuse regulation with disconnection, clarity with control,
detachment with wisdom. And in doing so we build curated lives filled with people who never challenge our edges and only mirror them. We mistake emotional intelligence for emotional convenience. And then we wonder why everything feels so distant even when
we’re doing everything right.

It occurred to me just now that I actually made it. Easily, if I’m honest. Probably because most of the time I’ve just felt lost, and focused on working at letting go of the past.

A year ago I made a pact. No contemplation of a relationship for at least a year. I had a few friends with benefits, who actually are good friends now, no longer with the benefits. This is the first time in my life I’ve been truly alone, and it actually feels pretty good. It’s odd to feel so content. Ok ok… I’m not alone anymore… I have just landed a furry adventure buddy.

It’s a strange experience. I met a wonderful man at the beach recently. When I told my sister about him she laughed and asked if she needed to slap me (that was part of the pact I made- she was to slap me if I came to her gushing about a man lol). I said no, no I’m good. And I really was. I didn’t ask for his number, nor feel that desperation I once would’ve had… that fear of missing out on something. I could simply trust that if our paths crossed again that would be nice, however, if they didn’t, oh well.

It’s the lack of desperation that feels so freeing. And I didn’t even realise I was desperate. Desperate to be loved, to be wanted, to be “chosen,” to be enough. I’ve given myself all those gifts. So I no longer need to look for them externally. It feels wonderful to be able to meet people in a space of not wanting something from them. I once moved in that way, but somehow had forgotten why or how. Lost in a need for validation.

I don’t know how it would look to welcome someone into my life these days. I feel so different. How do I love from a place of enoughness? It’s so new to me that I can’t even fathom what that could look like. It sounds quite pathetic to write that. It makes me feel sorry for the pathetic part of me that carried so many painful beliefs. But also proud that I no longer do. It also makes me acutely aware that my dating pool just got even smaller lol.

Overall, I feel happy again. My heart is beginning to shine again. My smile and laugh have returned. That spark of adventure is finding its way back. That curiosity at what might be around the corner. An upcoming well-overdue road trip. Good friends. Good food. Outdoors. Peace.

I’ve taken in a rescue dog. It happened unexpectedly, but he needed a home and I was in a position to be able to give him one with me. When we met for the first time, the people were astonished that he didn’t bark at me. When I arrived he simply came and met me with a curiosity that reminded me of my own.

In our time together I’ve been reminded of how things come to be. It now seems quite serendipitous. I’m the perfect person for him. And he is the perfect dog for me.

He’s had a past. One of which I’ll never know. But there are signs that it wasn’t good. He hides it. Like me, he fawns his fear behind good behaviour and being pleasing. His anxiety can easily be mistaken for happiness and excitement. The more I see him, the more I see myself. And in a way, caring for him is teaching me how to care for myself. He needs tenderness and kindness and gentle encouragement. He needs peace and comfort and stability. It’s a challenge for me to provide these things predictably and consistently. But I’m learning. He reminds me to be soft. Open. Gentle. To not try to force outcomes or hold expectations as though they’re a “cure all.” Acceptance of what is, instead of what I hope. I’m realising that he’s saving me just as much as I think I’m saving him.

Dogs have an uncanny ability to find their way into our heart. They work their way around our walls and nestle themselves into a space in our lives that makes you wonder what it was like before they came to be there. There’s a magic in that. A wisdom. He is reminding me how much I value being a safe space, both for myself and others… but he’s forcing me to learn to actually put that into practice. What a beautiful gift. Seeing him content feels like such a reward. I can only hope he feels the same way.

An image of his face between my thighs.

Words flowing from my lips.

Never spoken aloud.

He brings forth these elements.

No rhyme or reason.

Poetry that lays dormant.

Hidden behind a thousand veils of modesty.

The urge to be truly seen.

A sense. A willingness. A desire.

A… need.

My unravelling at his hands.

Stirring something ancient.

The urge to pour secrets before him.

Permission the key.

Persuasion beyond words.

To no longer hide.

To bare all.

And let him sift through the pieces.

It wasn’t clear why I decided to go, but something told me I should. Feeling so lost (as of what is beginning to feel like forever), I wanted to see if there was anything there for me anymore. If perhaps I might see a beacon of light towards what was once held so dear.

The odd thing was that it felt like a reunion. And, a part of me both stirred and settled. Especially when I saw and heard, Him.

That was actually super surprising. I hadn’t considered having any response… just one of familiarity and great shared conversations. But something in me curled around His presence. Any awkwardness immediately dissipated. I felt strangely safe. Our history emerged from memory and I realised we’d shared more than I had thought, and it had created a trust I hadn’t recognised was building.

The usual thoughts played through my mind as He spoke… “You’re so cool.”

It’s difficult for me to gauge how I feel about someone when I’m with someone else, because I don’t observe or give room to anything beyond what I consider acceptable friendship realm. But it seems I had a crush I was ignoring.

“You’re so cool.”

It’s a line from one of my favourite movies. And in hearing it, I realised that’s the type of love I wanted. The kind that made me want to openly adore the person I’m with because in my eyes they’re just so awesome. A combination of child-like, teenage-like, adult-like crush material. I realise now, when that line pops up, I’m a goner lol.

Overall though, it actually felt great to reconnect. I’m still not sure what this way of life looks like for me anymore. But it sure was nice to spend time with old and new friends, remembering why I came to be here in the first place… and that’s what I had hoped to find again.