The Journey For Many People

Our minds quite often push things away that don’t feel good, and when this happens over an extended period of time, we can become shut down or closed off from the beautiful, magical landscape of nourishment that our hearts have to offer us. It was like the Universe was punishing me in some way. This was flawed thinking inspired by deep shame. I have a tiny heart tattooed on my right wrist. It’s a reminder to make the journey from my head to my heart because so often I forget. When I am working with my clients and students who are experiencing various hardships in their lives, I like to remind them that the Universe is currently writing their life story and that the pain can one day turn into power. Hindsight is such an incredible spiritual gift when you have enough distance from the situation to reflect on what went right and what to avoid next time so you don’t repeat the same patterns. I want you to know that I am reluctant to share the following themes with you because of how deeply personal they are. Intimacy with another human is so important and vitally sacred. And yet somewhere along the journey for many people, it becomes less magical and even something shameful. It becomes a way to stuff down feelings instead of sharing them in a conscious way. Many people within society are starved of affection and intimacy, or feel lonely because they have yet to find their forever person if they are looking for one.

Trouble No More

So let’s track back to my inability to look into other people’s eyes. And then flash forward into my beautiful marriage to Sean Patrick Simpson. I can proudly say that we are connected in so many ways. Our connection is so strong, and we often joke that we feel as if our bodies were custom made for one another. We lose track of time and space. It was always powerful and sacred in this way, even when I was healing from my past trauma. It was this way even when I was in deep mourning and grief when my body felt so broken after the miscarriages. It was this way even in times where we felt disconnected and were experiencing tough times emotionally in our marriage. This is why it’s so important to find a partner that can hold space for you in body, in mind, and in spirit. More importantly, and this is the crux here, that you are able to hold space for yourself in body, in mind, and in spirit. But when you are with a partner, it takes a willingness to communicate and to explore one another’s needs. With that being said, there is a radical difference in who I am now, and who I am becoming, versus who I was as a teenager learning to love and learning how to set healthy boundaries.

When The Lights Go Out

This is where I would like to illustrate how beliefs get etched into one’s psyche. I had kissed a boy before, but not like this. It was like he didn’t really care about who I was and what I had to say. I don’t think he even knew my name or bothered to ask me. We had barely spoken, and I found myself flat on my back on the grass with his tongue in my mouth and his body pressed up against mine. It was like the eighteenth birthday party I’d snuck out of the house to attend a few years earlier. All this guy did was tell me that I was cute, hold my hand, and lead me outside under the stars to what I believed was the most romantic of destinies. His kissing felt rough and impersonal as if there should have been space to converse first before taking this first step. His hands kept on trying to make their way to my boobs or into my corduroy pants, but I blocked his repetitive attempts with the precision of an Olympic goalkeeper. I was such a romantic that as soon as I knew what his last name was, that was going to be my last name too. Rob was tall and lanky with brown eyes and blond hair. At sixteen, he’d decided to quit school and spend his time working at the local supermarket stocking shelves.

No One Ever Tells You

Even though I was so young at the time, my heart had set a very clear boundary. They had to know my soul before I would ever let them near my vagina. I followed Rob around like a lovesick puppy, even lying to my parents about where I was so that I could spend alone time with him. After about two weeks of us pashing on a regular basis, one night he invited me to sneak into his home while his parents were sleeping. I was instructed to keep very quiet and not use the bathroom under any circumstances. He offered me a glass of water, which I accepted and then regretted immensely due to the bathroom rule. The room smelt like sweaty socks, cheap deodorant, and unwashed sheets with the distinct musk of puberty. My bladder became my worst enemy, but I was willing to get a urinary tract infection just to sleep in the same bed as this handsome human so that he could profess his undying love for me before we took our relationship to the next level. We pashed for what seemed like hours, and it was like someone was inserting a small kiwifruit in and out of my mouth to obtain some kind of world record. And then when the sun rose, I left, on foot, to find the closest public restroom before I exploded. That week, Rob started to withdraw. He didn’t want to spend time with me anymore. He didn’t want to pash me. He didn’t return my calls again. The next time we were hanging out, I asked him what the matter was and what he needed.