my hook-ups. I color coded them with markers, each color of the rainbow
representing an act, beginning with red for kissing, and going around the
pink highlighter and marked those on this now extensive list that had involved alcohol, including the one when I lost my virginity. Nearly all wound up pink.
body during events like this. Whether that’s alcohol related, or as with
the above poem, which took place in sobriety, simply a self-protection habit.
and most would not have happened if alcohol hadn’t been involved — but some
surely would have, because that’s what you wanted from me, wasn’t it?
Sometimes I still think it. You’re interested in what you see, so I’ll give you
what you see and nothing more – the “real” me will be hidden, withdrawn,
somewhere else. It’s not safe for me to be present during these acts because
of the many times before when my answer was no but I was too drunk to argue, so it happened anyway.
retract and not be vulnerable. Do I simply become more aware of these patterns,
and they fall away? Do I trust that these parts can heal if I allow them into
the light, after so long of protecting them, protecting me?
Vulnerable to the overstepping of boundaries, vulnerable to my inability to own
my No or my Not now. Also, I’m vulnerable to the disappointment of not getting
what I need or want when I do ask – better to just sort of be checked in, and fake it.
right now. That I must be beating them away with a stick. That he was truly
shocked to hear that I’m not, and never really have. I have intimacy
issues, I told him.
are okay when they’re not. I don’t want to hide behind the armor of “I have
issues” or continue to babysit my wounds in a way that prevents them from being
powerlessness, terror, self-abandonment, betrayal. In order to do that, I have
to acknowledge them, which is a way to
bring them to light. I don’t have to share them here with you, but I can share
with you my process of moving (and wanting to move) from constriction, protection, and hiding to
care, openness, and trust.
pain, but it is also the only tool for true connection we have. By protecting
my sore places, I also prevent closeness … intimacy.
and care for the body I have myself, and pony up to ensure that it’s/I’m safe
when I’m with others in a vulnerable way? Can I trust myself?