I am on a journey. A journey of unveiling. It originally began as a journey of unraveling… undoing all of that which I am not, however, recently there has been a shift. A softening. An acceptance. I no longer feel the desire to push so hard, or sit in the chaos that comes with “unraveling.” There is nothing left to unravel.
Instead, it has shifted into a journey of being receptive. Receiving. Letting go. Embracing. Allowing what is simply there, to emerge.
Putting into place some guidance for this new aspect of my journey, everything feels right. I feel ready. I am ready to open.
This of course has brought to mind where my journey will go within the realms of BDSM. How does softness correlate with pain? With degradation. With cruelty. With all the “darker” things I’ve always associated with and loved.
… with being a slave. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. One thing I cannot do is stall my growth because of fear. I have come to care enough, that I will no longer prevent my growth into becoming who I am meant to be. The wheels are turning… the curiosity of unfolding has shifted from a flicker to a flame.
Sitting within this tonight, a realisation came to mind. Actually it began with a sentence that was going to become a poem.
“Invite Yourself into me.”
And then I thought, no…
“Knock. And wait to be invited.”
A thought occurred. I looked back over every sexual encounter I have ever had. Have I ever been approached sexually in this way? Has anyone ever asked gently if they can enter into my sexual boundaries? Have I ever invited someone in to my sexual boundaries in this way? Sadly, the answer is no. I do not place blame anywhere. The reality is that I didn’t know that sexual boundaries were even a thing. I didn’t realise I could have the option of asking people to approach and knock. I didn’t realise it was an option to wait until I was ready to receive them into my sexual space. I didn’t realise that I need time to nurture that space so that I can be receptive. I simply didn’t know until this very moment. I always thought a simple “yes” of consent was all that was required. Sound familiar? It seems my body felt otherwise…
All this time trampling over my own sexual boundaries, frustrated, wondering why I couldn’t connect. Not realising there was a part that was firmly locked closed to protect something special. It’s moments like this that I revel at how wise we are. A knowing beyond knowing that protects us, even from ourselves, until we reach a point of being responsible enough to be given the gift that has been kept as a keepsake. The truly important parts of who we are.
Suddenly the urge to stop punishing myself for being (all of the things I have spent a lifetime telling myself I am because I’ve always felt so sexually dysfunctional), came forward. In this moment I can forgive myself. That girl who has wandered so lost for so long. My heart holds her. And I am excited for her.
