“I’m afraid. And I need to acknowledge this verbally, that although I don’t want to, some part of me is holding back in sharing all my love, all this love that I am so desperate to share. And I don’t want that to be the case, but I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” asked ElkFeather.
“That I will push people away with how intense I can be.” This was, after all, what seemed to happen with Noel.
“Is there anyone in particular you are afraid of pushing away?” he asked me.
In the safety of his arms, in the comfortable embrace, my legs locked around his waist, I could feel the fear melting as I spoke.
“You,” I answered. “I don’t want to drive you away.” Pause. Breathe. “I don’t want to drive anyone away.”
With my cheek resting against his neck, I could feel ElkFeather breathing, smiling. “You aren’t going to drive me away. I’m here.”
There are these walls up within me against myself, and I’m slowly breaking through them.
My greatest fear is my own power. My own full expression of being. I want to unleash and let go. I want to pour my heart out over and over again, and let go of the pain and sorrow, celebrate the joy and the love. And I am so afraid of how overwhelming that can be. Of how I can become so overwhelmed by myself and consumed with that expressiveness that everything else falls by the wayside. Work, commitments, long term plans, everything. I am Pandora, holding this box, sealed tight for fear that what lies within will move without my control. Wild passion. Unbridled. Unrestrained. Powerful. Transformative.
I hold back with partners because, in the past, I have not held back. I have taken advantage. I choosen to not have sex when intoxicated for the simple reason that I don’t trust myself to recognize the other person’s No- whether spoken or bodily communicated- when I am in an altered state of awareness, and I don’t trust that someone else can say no when they are in that state. I have been the person who knew the person they were with was too drunk to resist or say no. I’ve been the one to cross unspoken boundaries and I hate that I have that capacity.
So I hold back. I hold back and hold back. And I can only let go when someone inserts a key. When someone gives me absolute outright permission “Yes, we are having sex. We are getting intimate.” And then it’s a gentle playful zone until… something magical shifts, and I melt. I’m gone. Everything changes. I open. I’m unleashed.
Maybe I will get to a place again when I feel I can trust myself enough with others that I can fully let down those guards and maybe have sex whilst more than a little tipsy, or at the tail-end of a mushroom trip. Who knows. I mean, I love those altered states of consciousness. I just don’t know that I can go there and go into that vulnerably open arena of sexuality with someone else at the same time.
It is said that our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate. It is that we are powerful beyond measure. And here I am seeking to unleash the full expression of my sexuality, and holding back because I fear it could take over.
I love the time I get to spend with ElkFeather. Whilst we chat online often, we see each other in person maybe once every few months. There’s a lot of love shared between us. The time we spend together feels genuine. Nothing forced, no agenda. We play. We laugh. We do mushrooms and tumble around his living room. We read our Free Will Astrology for the week. We draw oracle cards to decipher our lives and laugh when the cards tell us the same things. We eat good food and watch TED talks. We share tea. We share kisses. And more.
He reminds me of an elemental forest creature. When we are together, I feel the gentle embrace of the trees, the softness of the moss, the uplifting fragrance of the earth. I reconnect with myself. I find my grounding. Once I know where that grounding is, I’m no longer afraid to spread my wings. I feel- invincible, wide open, free. The fear seems to melt.
On my last morning at ElkFeather’s, before heading back into the city, I was overcome with a wave of sorrow. I don’t know why. It was just, sadness, pouring out of me. I started crying. It was a joyous kind of sadness. He came over and gently touched my foot. “I love you, M” he said, his eyes glowing, his face beaming deep, compassionate love at me. That was all he needed to say. He reminded me of the experience of love, and the sadness evaporated into smiles and sweetness.
I’m reminded that we are all so vulnerable, we’ve all been hurt and wounded, we’ve all carried scars around our sexuality, and yet-we’ve all got immeasurable strength and wisdom to share. The deepest scars can indeed be healed. Our traumas can become our strengths. Each and every twist in our path leads us to opportunities to grow if we choose to see them that way. And relationships, they can be the greatest teacher of all. The people we undress to- physically and emotionally- get to see every little mark on our being, even the ones we forgot were there, and they can help us heal them, if the trust and capacity for sharing love is there.