An Intimacy Intermission

I feel like I’m in a vortex, a wind tunnel, currently. 2022 started slowly, but I was propelled into lots of change quickly, moving in with my boyfriend, and feeling a strong push to continue creating professionally. February launched me into an entirety of new beginnings and life is in real time, as such, I’m finding beauty in clarity, uncertainty and even catastrophe. I’m being pushed and pulled equally. 

This past year, finding my voice has been the most challenging and rewarding. I’ve written about feelings for years, but I can only share as deeply as I’ve experienced, and  while vulnerable, my words were less personal, directed outward, coaching others instead of claiming my fear and sadness as my own. We teach what we need to learn. But as I began facing me, I found courage in the vulnerability, finally learning that trust and love begin and end here. As I dove into my soul, tools became available to me, psychedelic therapy, energy, breath work, and functional medicine healing, to answer my unanswered questions, the knots blocking my well being. Over time, using tools and guides to help me integrate my findings, I’m learning to trust myself again, out of the anxiety of my mind, inhabiting my body, my heart and my gut — all the places I’ve never felt safe, and shied away from for a lifetime. 

And as I’ve shared more intimately, particularly my Intimacy Diaries, I’ve drummed up both inquiry and insecurity, because speaking openly isn’t “PC”. Because it’s safer to stay silent. Because I’m speaking about pleasure and trauma and violence. But in this vortex I’m being guided, forward, energetically. “Go Olivia, Go. Its your time to embrace your truth, and answer your calling,” just as the current pushes back against me equally, whispering from fear, “What are you doing? Why? Do what everyone else does, get a real job, get married, have babies.” Don’t get me wrong, I want all of the things, but not at the expense of my reality, creativity, and vulnerability. Normalcy has never been “normal” to me. 

And simultaneously, I am supported by a loving family who only wants me to be happy. My happiness is no longer valued on things or resume. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not used to living comfortably, and grateful for everything. But I thrive in tumult and challenge—in hardship I find possibility. And feeling so deeply scares the majority. But small talk nor the majority has never moved me. And ironically, trauma IS the majority. 70% of adults, 223.4 million people in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. Trauma doesn’t abide by affirmative action. It doesn’t discriminate because of gender or race or socioeconomics. It’s lodged deeply generationally. And while it does NOT define me, it is a part of me, that pulled apart parts of me, for my life, or the majority — until I began identifying it. Because I was tired of being tired, of living in pain and in darkness and shame, without knowing why, I more or less couldn’t care less if I died. And now, in sharing my journey I’ve never felt more alive. Because I no longer have anything to hide. I’m free to use my voice, without knowing why I was even silenced, finally. 

But words are triggering: sex, self pleasure, dare I say masturbating. They evoke feelings, and feelings are scarier than anything. That’s why our society prefers numbing with any and everything: work, working out, food, booze, drugs, scrolling and swiping. Funny enough, every cognitive behavioral therapist I’ve been to has asked me specifically, “Do you have a yoni practice?” I didn’t even know what that meant originally. Yoni, the Sanskrit word for the womb, source of life, vagina, describes the anatomy and the energetic and spiritual dimensions. In trauma recovery, this practice implies self pleasuring. I was shocked too that in talk therapy I was told to touch myself, and shied away, embarrassingly. “You need to get back in your body, reclaim the places where you’ve never felt comfortably.” Touching yourself as I knew it, had stigma attached, and was “dirty,”so I didn’t really do it, because no matter if it was myself or someone else touching me the only thing I felt was anger, or even worse dissociated, meaning nothing. For years, living with PTSD, I felt nothing, shut down sexually, and hyper vigilant emotionally, because flying out of my body was how I protected me. “Self pleasure practice” isn’t about stimulation, but re-inhabiting the body that was violated. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want an angry vagina — particularly when I have a child. Stuck energy, along with unhealed trauma, is passed through the birth canal undoubtedly. I’m healing for myself and my offspring, putting me back together like Humpty Dumpty. In healing, I’ve been able to call in my current partner, heart open, body and spirit, honored, no longer armored. 

But this isn’t about trauma, sex or the rest, but feelings: I finally feel alive, and sharing the effort showing that it requires courage but doesn’t have to be so scary to look inside, and hell I want to celebrate that I’m no longer on autopilot, finally arriving — Here. Not defined by what I’ve “done” or am “doing. Worthy simply because I am —  Present: The gift that keeps on giving. Life. But honesty triggers feelings that we so often buy another handbag to hide behind, sweep under the rug, scroll next, text or swipe left, sip, stuff down, or pile up in the closet, folded into freshly scented laundry and placed on the shelves, not to be bothered. 

I’m fucking up the perfect closet, and celebrating the messiness of reality, using my voice to shed light on the pain so many feel but feel guilty for feeling.  But sharing pain isn’t pretty. And learning to experience the full spectrum of emotion that is life, in real time, not on TV is not only available, but completely liberating. 

So, who am I? Olivia Young, ironically, because to “LivYoung,” or even “Livyng,” has never come easily, But I got tired of existing. And as the clouds of smoke from this past year of healing are clearing, I am ready to start LIVing, experiencing every sense, deeply — color, emotion, flavor, sight, sound, reaction, energy. And after years of hardening, self defined by “accomplishing,” I’m softening and becoming, me. Less ego, more heart, and this push and pull is not a vortex, but a chrysalis opening. I’m crawling out of a long slumber, ready to spread my wings, knowing that my messy, raw, honest, reality, won’t be received by everybody. 

But sharing is healing both myself and anyone else who has ever felt unworthy, stuck in self sabotage and self hate because of the pain that wasn’t their doing. As one person heals, we heal the collective, because we are all connected. Playing small doesn’t serve anybody. Shrinking is just a result of PTSD. Expansiveness is about owning who we are in our hearts, before any suffering. 

Yes Olivia, you deserve to be happy. 
No, Olivia, too much, stop feeling.

Happiness is grounding into what I know is for me, unafraid of judgment coming at me, knowing that judgment is never about me, but projection of insecurity. So I’ll continue using what I have, including my stories as fuel, not to hold me back resenting, but push me forward, by honoring the fire and fight put in me — choosing to not die by the sword, by shrinking, instead turning my pain into power, and using my voice to spread hope + share love, regardless of past suffering. 

I danced with my boxing trainer yesterday, for the first time in four months, 60 minutes, 3 minute rounds 30 second breaks. I flowed thru my fight, leaning into the challenge but not succumbing as a group of professional fighters gawked, shocked at my resiliency. 

The teacher said jokingly, “Hey, I’m trying to teach a class, why you gotta hit so hard?” 
“Me? I replied, I’m just tired of being timid. 

Little does he know, I’ve been training my whole life for this. For this punch, for this share, for this challenge. Stuck between going thru the motions of a life that looked pretty but was broken, what I thought I wanted and what I want, actually. Boxed in by expectations, finally realizing that expectations are for suffering. So for the first time I’m honoring, that this life is mine and I choose me. No one puts baby in a corner. And if they do, I step out, willfully. And show up, as I do on my yoga mat as a reflection of how I do everything: Feet grounded. Heart open, belly to spine, Shoulders back. Inhaling confidence, integrating mind + body, into each word, action, and breath. Head high. And moving into whatever is next, with flexibility, as a state of being. If you’re not willing to fall, you’re not ready to fly. I’m ready.
Everything I Needed Was Always Inside. 
Love Always, Olivia  

Ready to start feeling? Lets Go. 3 coaching spots available. Reply to this email for inquiry. 
Looking to jumpstart your healing journey? Happy to answer questions,
and refer specific functional medicine + energy healers, I’ve referenced above.
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