The hard conversations

I talked openly about sexual abuse with someone yesterday. And about body parts. And sexual intercourse.

There was no anger or wrong-making or freaking out. We just talked. Questions were asked and answered calmly, honestly, and genuinely. And the conversation eventually comfortably and naturally moved onward into something else.

And nothing was weird. And we both gained an unexpected degree of value from the conversation.

And wouldn’t the world be a better place, if we could have informative, open, and safe conversations about more of these traditionally taboo and sensitive topics?

My world certainly has improved since they have become part of my everyday life. It was really, really scary at first, and difficult. And awkward and uncomfortable. Now, though, it has become quite normal and easy. And I am grateful for that every time such an opportunity and conversation arise.

Post-a-day 2021

^Right in the middle of typing it, I caught myself, and so got it right 😛

Say, what?!!?

Have you ever had that moment when something on your actual life sounds like something from a film? Where you have a moment of being unsure as to whether you will break into tears at the stress of it all, or you will break into laughter at how ridiculous and movie-like it all is…or, maybe, both?

I had one of those today: a genuine, ‘What… the…,’ mind-shocking unraveling of events. And I still don’t know what to make of it all.

The problems are just like in the films, with, I am almost certain, the exact same reasons for having developed as the film-problems have. And I don’t know if they are going to be solved, or just used as sad memories for those involved for years to come. Will righteousness and hurt, anger, frustration, and a lack of true and genuine communication reign, ruining the opportunity for intense, immense love? Or will those involved stop and breathe and acknowledge the love they have and want to share, and straighten out their words and needs and means of communications, and truly – possibly for the first time ever – and fully create the love they want to share?

I prefer the latter, without a moment’s hesitation or doubt.

Fingers crossed!

Post-a-day 2021

^Almost there! Still got it wrong at first, but corrected it immediately, with a little sigh, of course. ;P

Righteous Insecurity

I have noticed that people who do things that aren’t considered to be good (e.g. drugs and alcohol), tend to be somewhat righteously adamant about proving that it is not only acceptable for them to do such things, but also that those who do not do such things are, themselves, at fault somehow… like the insecurity of doing the not good thing is being hidden by the righteousness.

Just a speculation here, but I base it on much observation, and over many years.

It has me wonder, though, if I do this with things in my own life.

It certainly sucks, being hounded for not wanting to be part of such not good things, and for believing them to be neither beneficial nor necessary in life, and I hope not to make others feel that way due to my own insecurities.

So, I shall explore this for my near future, and see if there are adjustments that need to be put in order for myself.

Anyway… yeah… can you tell how my night went, in last? Haha

Post-a-day 2020

Men

“You’d tell him, but not me?” he asks, somewhat incredulously.

“Yeah,” she replies, matter-of-factly, “That’s the kind of relationship he and I have. I mean, he’s not trying to have sex with me. You are.”

He laughs strongly for a few moments, mumbles, and then adds, “It’s so weird… people don’t usually just say that… even if they know it.”

She shrugs, even though he can’t see her, “Yeah. Well, it’s true, nonetheless.”

“I, I know… But people just don’t usually say that out loud,” he says, and he laughs some more, but it is not as pronounced.

He remembers that she is not typical, by any means…, which is exactly why he resists being friends with her: he can’t seem to categorize her.

She wonders if he’ll ever be able to move past this attachment he seems to have to sex and the likes in their chats… that’s what he had been asking about in the first place, though in what she found to be a bothersome evasive and indirect way… she doesn’t mind mention of such things, when they are relevant, but she prefers and genuinely enjoys all the other topics they end up on whenever they talk… that’s why she bothers with the acquaintanceship – she is aiming to be friends, even ones who only talk on occasion.

……

Besides, she thinks to herself a while later, recalling the conversation, as she reflects on the message she just received, not only is he not trying to sleep with me, but he says things like this to me:

Quando ridi si pronunciano molto i tuoi zigomi. Risata fantastica!!🤩

“When you laugh, your cheekbones are very pronounced. Fantastic laugh!!”

And then he follows it up with:

Volevo fare un apprezzamento su di una cosa che mi piace di te….

“I wanted to show appreciation to you for something I like about you.”

Different strokes.

Very different relationships.

Very different men, and with very different goals.

She tends to prefer the cheekbones one over the other…. the one who wants to be a friend over the one who wants to be a friend with benefits…, and possibly minus the friend part of it…

She is glad she told him a straightforward explanation, and that she asked him straight out why he had wanted her to drink with him.

The cards are on the table, and she doesn’t have to play.

Post-a-day 2020

an open book

I shared a lot tonight.  It almost scares me, because it was open honesty about something that has never been open to the public, something about which I had been for so long ashamed… yet part of me, now, wants to go ahead and share it openly, not anonymously, with the world.  I am not yet ready for that – I don’t know that I want the people who know me to see me so differently as they necessarily would by learning about it all.  No matter how much I can see that it all was not my fault, it doesn’t change the fact that I am still embarrassed at being, I guess one could say, duped.

You know what I mean?  I could have done so much better, despite the odds’ being so much against me… I just didn’t.

And something about that still feels a bit disappointing, though I do not blame myself, anymore.

Post-a-day 2019

More than just a physical workout

Today was my second day as a member of this CrossFit gym. My friend and I – we signed up together – have schedules that don’t align for workouts today and tomorrow, so we’re going to separate classes on both days, as will be the case going forward, whenever our schedules don’t align (that is, we both must and will go on the same day, at least three days a week, just not always at the same time… sure, there will be times where this doesn’t work out, but it is our strong intention to stick with it as absolutely best as is possible). Therefore, I went to the midday class on my own today. It was hot out, in the eighties, and I was tired… I had helped this same friend put together her new television stand and television last night after our late dinner together after class, and then I had to be up rather early this morning. Plus, of course, I had done the actual workout yesterday evening in the first place, and I was still a bit sore from the test class we’d done on Thursday evening. Altogether, I was hot, tired, and alone on my own. But I was there, and I knew it was exactly where I wanted and needed to be – everything was perfect in this. I was even nervous, because I’m new at it and don’t quite know how things work at least half the time; I’d even said we felt like lost puppies the other evening, as we tried figuring out what was going on in the middle of the class. 😛 Anyway, continuing onward…

So, I’m there on my own. I also happen to be rather un-strong right now – not that I’m weak, but I’m nowhere near as strong as I have been much accustomed to being throughout my life. And I have a good amount of fat on my body that I want to go away. In fact, I have wanted it to go away for years, but it has, instead, increased ever so slowly these past few years or so, with the occasional drop of most of it, and then the returning slow increase. You see, I can’t ever stick with it… I always hit a point where I can’t stand the fat an low fitness level, and so I do something about it. Whenever I hit a certain level of fitness and fat reduction, I always end up stopping… not from exhaustion or annoyance or anything, but from a thought that comes up of, “That’s (good) enough for now,” with a hint of something like fear behind it.

I shall return to this thought after explaining more from the class today (that is, you will figure out its relevance in just a bit).

Pushing through the workout, doing all that I could, my body shaking throughout about half of the workout, due to the struggle, I found myself in almost constant tears. I methodically reassured myself (when I was alone on the running section each time) both inside my head and aloud, that this is perfect that I am here… I can’t do this, and that is why I am here… I am meant to be here… This is perfect… This is exactly where I belong… This is where I need to be right now… This is where I need to be… This is perfect…

Over and over again, I repeated the varying versions of the idea that I was exactly where I needed to be, while acknowledging that it was difficult to do the workout (without degrading in any way), all the while crying.

When I finished the last bit, I stayed lying on the bench for about thirty seconds or so, because the tears were so strong, my body was even convulsing with a few hearty sobs as I rested my arms on top of me in a sort of relaxed hug… I let it out, so I could let it go.

And then I wiped off my tears, got up, and started cleaning up everything that I had used, reminding myself that this is perfect.

I didn’t talk to anyone initially… just the bare minimum of how long it took me, and then nods to say that I was, in fact, okay… avoiding the part where I didn’t know what I even could say, let alone would say, if talking were required.

As I put away the last thing, the bar I had used, the girl (lady) I’d met at the beginning said something to me. I don’t remember if it was a question about the workout, or merely encouragement, but there eventually came a point at which I went ahead and shared a little with her. Taking it slowly, and eventually having the tears start pouring out (but not as badly as they could have been had I not taken it slowly), I told her how a lot was coming up for me in this… My having always been one of the top performers in almost any and every sport I did growing up and as a younger adult, and suddenly being on the other end of it all, I felt like the fat kid – this workout was hard for me in places that things had never before been hard for me… My life direction and style and goals having begun and finally done a sort of plunge into a drastically different direction, terrifying me ever so slightly but intensely… The regular stresses of life, combined with the raccoons and the fleas… and, most importantly and intensely, that I am actually taking on for real getting my body to the physical fitness level and look I so long to have.

This last one may not seem like much, but it is. I told her how I had kind of hit a point of being afraid of being a beautiful female body, and that I started to shy away from the idea, aiming for the less feminine versions of clothing and such. She (appropriately) asked if something happened to me, and (appropriately) acknowledged that it wasn’t that something had to have happened to me – she just wondered if any incident had played a role in that, since it so often does, especially for women.

And, surprisingly, – but also not surprisingly, since I’ve been working on being my true self and being self-expressed truly – I told her that Yeah, I kind of did. It wasn’t exactly the catalyst of it all, – I had already started feeling uncomfortable with being womanly and all. But it did act as a strong encouragement that I was right, and that it is bad to be womanly and sexy. I even shared a bit of details that were relevant, remaining comfortable and confident in myself the whole time.

I recently had a long and tough and beautiful conversation with my best friend about my own incident, and I completed what I needed through that conversation – whatever I needed addressed or said or acknowledge, happened, and my feeling of being trapped by the incident was, after years of avoidance and mental pain and struggle hiding in the back of my mind, finally disappeared… I could see it as something that happened, and was able to talk about it fully at last. I don’t mean each and every detail, of course, but the experience itself and anything that was particularly heavy on me suddenly lost their power and weight in my mind. And my recent efforts to find the kind of exercise I want to do, and then finding the right gym to do it once I’d found the exercise, all came out of this conversation I’d had with my best friend near the end of last year.

And today, all on my own, knowing fully that I am in this at least through September – already paid of through then, essentially – and that I am guaranteed spectacular results by then (especially since it usually only takes about three months to see massive results, anyway, here), was a somewhat terrifying experience and feeling. I’ve spent so long, so many years, convinced to my core that I must avoid these exact results I am not actively seeking. I must not become an object that might be desired sexually… But my recent experiences of wanting to be able (eventually, anyway) to have that experience of not only wanting to desire a man, but of wanting that man to desire me… now those already have been huge, and were formerly unthinkable… but now they actually have a chance to happen one day soon…, and that is so scary to the terrified girl I had grown so accustomed to being inside my head.

But I want this. And I can finally see clearly enough to believe that it truly is okay for me to want it. I want my partner in life to want me in every way, and vice versa…and physically is one of those ways. And I shared this all with her.

And then she shared about her own miserable incident… and how she struggled to get to where she is today – happily married and comfortable with her body and going after amazing fitness, even showing off her body in her workout clothes (not inappropriately at all, but quite flatteringly and tastefully, I dare say) – and that she agrees with me that this is the perfect place for me to be with this. The community is wonderful at this gym – yes, there are physical beasts of men, but not one of them is anything less than a wonderful human being. And, by the way, ‘I didn’t dress like this when I first started coming here,’ she told me, smiling knowingly as I smiled and chuckled in my loose and somewhat baggy t-shirt and shorts. A hint of her midriff was showing, her top was sleeveless, and her shorts were mid-thigh and exercise style snug… it looked great and showed off her muscles modestly, but well.

As we were leaving, she told me that she regularly attends that class, clearly encouraging me to return and to see her as a willing friend of sorts. It felt good. And in a way I’m not sure I’ve known in quite a long time.

Post-a-day 2019

The Fear of Openness and Intimacy

It is often terrifying to be open with people regarding very intimate things.  Usually, though, the result of the openness is absolutely wonderful, often beyond expectations.

Tonight, after months of nervous waiting and somewhat avoidance, I finally asked a friend about something that had been driving me absolutely crazy, – it even played a decent role in my depression – and the resulting conversation was beautiful.  Rather than the worst happening, and losing the foundations on which our friendship stood, as I had somehow feared, it feels now as though we are closer than ever, and ready for most any terrain (as opposed to just being on steady ground, where any change in the land would send everything rocking to a tumble and crumble).  And, at long last, I am free of that dragging, straining haul of thoughts that had hassled me for so long.  I have a headache, and I feel like I might have a fever, and yet I am in an easy happiness as I am going to bed right now.  Life is sometimes terrifying, and that’s okay.  Sometimes it just makes the next bit even better for the struggle it took to arrive there.  So is tonight. 🙂
Post-a-day 2017