I've often been encouraged to write. I mean to really buckle down, focus, and just fucking write. Oh, but then I get all wrapped up in my head and my self destructive policies and maybe even politics. There is something lonely about writing. There is something vulnerable. And maybe the fear is this - everyone will know what I'm thinking, everyone will know what I've done... they'll assume it's true, they'll think they know me, and I'll feel naked and exposed. Or maybe they'll hold onto one phrase, one story, and capture me in a moment that feels so confining and claustrophobic.
So it holds me back, a little.
But then, I read the work of Cheryl Strayed, who happens to be from Minnesota, who happens to write the best advice column I have ever read IN MY LIFE - Dear Sugar at www.therumpus.net, and who happens to be so painfully honest that you love her in ways you can't imagine. It's for many reasons, but primarily for me, in this moment, it's because her writing is her way of teaching. She's so open about what she feels. She is so skillfully able to put into words what she has done, what she is doing, and how she feels while she's doing it, that you can't help but feel safe. Her honesty makes you realize that other people feel dark and depressed and beside themselves, sometimes briefly, sometimes for years. It makes me think of the honesty of Joan Didion in her book, "The Year of Magical Thinking", a book I know I have referenced before. Sometimes scary honest.
I have often thought, that after my ex husband cheated on me, that I was out to prove to humanity (really myself) that sex didn't have to be an emotional experience, that sex could just be about that - primal and carnal, without any love. I finally have enough distance between my marriage and the present that I'm able to look at all of this.
Because of our up-bringing and sex being viewed as a terrible sin unless it is within the confines of marriage, my ex was the first guy I had sex with. We did have sex before marriage, of course, but I justified it by knowing we were engaged, we were committed and I loved him with all my heart.
I keep thinking of a line from Eat, Pray, Love where Felipe visits Ketuit and Ketuit feels Felipe's heartbreak immediately. Ketuit says something to the effect of "heartbreak means you tried really really hard at something."
And that was the raw truth to it all - I tried really really hard at something. I loved my husband with all my heart. I didn't hold back. In spite of all of my fear, I was fearless, and I trusted him.
Was it misplaced? Maybe. I believe he loved me in the best way he knew how.
But the short of it all is it hurt me, and it both scared and scarred me.... to the point that I had something to prove.
First of all, there is revenge sex... and this is very common when you find out you've been cheated on. I won't go into detail tonight - it's pretty self explanatory. It's the ultimate way (so you think) of saying "Fuck you" to someone who already said "Fuck you" to you, only it took you by surprise, like the worst punch to the stomach you can imagine, maybe even a punch to the stomach while you're sleeping. You get to find out that everything you thought was real and true for months and years, was really a lie... and then you get to feel really messed up in trying to figure out that some of it was true and some of it was a lie, or that all of it was true but this person has a different definition of what love is - and then you give up and you move on because it really hurts and it really sucks, and it's over... no matter how you view it, it's over.
So, in a couple of years, I found myself in the company of about 14 or 15 different men (I would have to go back in my journals to give an exact count). I'm not saying I had sex with all of them. I just really really wanted their attention and I wanted to feel desirable. I had names for them too, much like Cheryl Strayed did - not their real names but a way to describe some odd trait, like "cherry chapstick" for the guy who compulsively applied cherry flavored chapstick... or the puppeteer who smelled like oranges and had gift cards that didn't work, so I had to pay for dinner. You think I'm making this up, but I'm not. I can't believe I was that desperate.
And, trying to fill this hole my ex had torn in my soul, made me make some pretty bad choices... I just mean it's pretty obvious how I felt about myself and how little I was willing to accept.. until I moved on. I also know I caused pain in the meantime because someone in the state I was in, has or had no business messing with other people's feelings. For that I'm sorry, and for that maybe some karma is lingering in my path as well.
But it's truly a normal response to emotional trauma.
And then you heal. Because you can and you do.
You're wiser and more aware of yourself and those around you. You think before you act, maybe not perfectly, but you're not out to prove anything to anyone. You no longer have to try to "trick nature" and prove that you are the one person who can have sex without emotional ties. You no longer have to act stronger than you are. You just have to be honest and real.
So, thanks to Cheryl Strayed for her beautiful, heart felt writing that brought these emotions of my own to the surface, and allowed me to engage in self reflection. I'm impressed by her bravery and I'm inspired to share more of my own story.
Good Night!
