She calls me back to the water. To the sea. That feeling, that longing to be engulfed in the water is there. Those reoccurring dreams of being by the sea side cliffs, feeling the wind tug my body closer to the edge, are back. And I know what it means. It is time for healing. For letting go, falling into the current below, to be cleansed more inside than out, and to emerge anew and unrecognizable.
I want to fall. I want to be engulfed in the water, to feel it cradle me. For a moment, I'm not alive. But not dead either. Just there. Stagnant. Somewhere between existing and desist. Just a form, sinking to the bottom of the water with the weight of my own heavy heart. Where she lies waiting for me.
Mother, I'm coming home.
---
It had been so long. So long since I had felt the intimacy and closeness of another, let alone someone I wanted so badly to feel that with. I was scared. A lot has changed since the last time, a lot had happened, and even in my new found self-worth, those consistent fears are still there. Plus the struggles I've had with my own physical pain, causing new limitations on myself that I am still navigating. But I was excited, looking forward to feeling those beloved feelings again. Despite the negative feeling that was nagging at me in the back of my head, I was ready to feel that closeness again. I was ready to take this next step.
It meant so much to me to do this. I wanted it to be special. It meant so much to me, and I wanted the slow, gentle and passionate lovemaking, with kisses and gentle touches and sweetness, and caresses. With time of laying together in each other's arms after, kissing and holding, and just being in the moment. I wanted it to be special.
---
I was met with an atmosphere of negativity so thick I couldn't breathe. My desire for that special moment quickly faded, and I was focused on fixing the situation; trying desperately to create an environment of happiness and positivity, but no matter how I tried, the angles of approach, nothing worked. I was not the answer. Nothing I had to offer was good enough to fix this problem. I was not enough to make things better, to create an environment that was desired.
When you can tell someone isn't into a situation, but they keep telling you otherwise, it creates a deep confusion. The thing that was expressed as the most needed, was what I was offering to provide, but I could tell it wasn't wanted. Not with me. The vibe wasn't there. But I'm being told otherwise. So my desire for a "special" moment became nothing more than a willingness to be the distraction. I wasn't going to get a special moment. This wasn't about me. This was about him. His needs. His need for a distraction. I was the warm wet hole of distraction.
Desperately trying to still create the special moment I wanted, I tried to undress. I wanted skin on skin. I wanted to feel him, not just down there, but all around me. I wanted the embrace, the closeness.
You don't need to take your shoes off for doggy.
I wanted eye contact. I wanted to see the affects of my offer. I wanted to see how I was doing, if I was doing it right, if I needed to do more. I wanted the sacred act of eye contact that I've not gotten with anyone else. But you can't see when you're face down; the sight of you unwanted. And the physical pain I have been struggling with began to creep in. As I knew it would in such a position. But this wasn't about me. This wasn't for me.
And in the moment, unsure of how things are going because I can't see, I try to press back, to feel more than just the pain and the steady pumping. I focus on my own pleasure; it may not be special, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it for what it is. I try to move, to rock in a way I need to get there, but I am pushed away and held still. And in a moment, it's over.
The opportunity for the special moment is over, and if I expected embrace and closeness after the fact, I wasn't getting it. Too many distractions for that, and he is pulled away from me before I have a chance to steady myself against my own pain and pull him close.
Selfish special moments had no place here. This wasn't about me.
In the morning, the fruits of my offering withered. My offer of my own flesh as a distraction was not enough. And I am left feeling used and discarded.
This wasn't about me.
---
I am called to the water. To its engulfing embrace; its cradling comfort. For a moment, I do not want to be alive or dead. I just want to silently take up space. I don't need the wind to pull me over the edge and into the depths below. I fall willingly. I need held, and the water welcomes me into her arms.
Mother, I'm coming home.
No comments:
Post a Comment