Bled to the Bone.
my ass touched the couch. the rest of my body not there. my mind perplexed on the accumulation of the past six months.
one pregnancy. one proposal. one miscarriage. one mistress. one deadly diagnosis. one chance to change. and only one person who did. me.
this was bottom and only my ass was able to connect with the truth of my reality. the rest of my reality and body floated in the space between me and my therapist. the contents of my stomach and soul spilled out in the space between us. i looked to her…
“i have done some mother fucking crazy shit for men - i cannot do it anymore. doing it is killing me - physically killing me…”
my eyes showed me the countless years of reenacting abuse. my hands recalled the nights of driving in deadly snow storms to seduce someone new. my brain showed me old dreams i ditched to get dick. my feet floated upwards remembering the years of flying across the world for a fuck. my heart hurt as it let out the truths of how i had stripped down for men. how i had fucked. sucked. took cock for men. for men to love me. for men to give me the permission to love myself. to love my body.
in the space between my body and my therapist no conversation occurred. my body was in deep communion with me. eventually my eyes looked upwards.
my eyes noticed the kindness in her eyes. my eyes noticed the quirkiness of her side pony tail. my eyes noticed the strong structure of her spine supported by the chair. my eyes noticed her hands touching her heart and its warmth. for the first time in my life i truly saw another women. i saw another women’s beauty. i saw another women’s love.
the rest of my body joined my ass. grounded by her loving presence. i sat basking in her love. i sat in her love. my heart asked my mind;
why are you so afraid of this? why are you so resistant to women? why are you so resistant to receiving affection, protection and love from women? why are you so resistant to letting women love you? why are you so resistant to offering your love to women?
my throat collapsed with shame that emptied from my ears. with empty ears i was able to receive my therapists wise wisdom words...
“maybe it is time do some mother fucking crazy shit for yourself? for women like you? for women? maybe some mother fucking crazy shit like sharing your story?”
my heart heard her. my feet ran me to somewhere safe where my heart could bleed out through my fingers. i bled myself dry to the bone for this book to become what you are reading now. this book was written from the same tenacity and ferociousness i once loved men with. how i hope that in reading my story you are moved to love women in the way i already love you.