Kissing Frogs in the Mountains
A much more personal share then yesterdays' breakfasts … Which I admit I’m embarrassed to share. But by sharing, I’m releasing the shame that wasn’t mine in the first place.
True life: I have a cold sore on my upper lip, left side, because of that time, I kissed a frog in the mountains.
So what? You might be thinking. But this thing on my lip is triggering. I’m a frontward facing person and although “Fifty to 80 percent of U.S. adults have oral herpes,” it still sucks every time I get one. Why is this traumatic? I’ll start at the beginning & then explain three reasons—
I was assaulted early, and then in middle school and high school. When I was “old enough” to start dating I chose someone who resembled an early perpetrator subconsciously, and followed him to Boston for school. Nothing else felt safe for me. I’d lost my sovereignty, and through therapy I understand why I chose him too. I was assaulted in Boston too, violently, — but told nobody, which is why I transferred schools. I couldn’t protect me. I transferred from Boston University mid semester and then graduated University of Miami with a business degree. At age 22, confused, I had no idea who I was or “what” I wanted to be.
I felt like I had no purpose, I was searching —- for me. And not yet ready to admit the pain I was feeling. After graduation, I started working for my dad’s meat processing business, answering phones, and picking up lunch before leaving mid afternoon to practice yoga, the only healthy way I knew how to self soothe. I started dating someone I previously thought of as “womanizing.” I was extra vulnerable considering all the trauma, seeking outside of me for purpose — dating to “get married.”
He was in it more for the trophy than the ring, the chase to him was exciting — the thrill of it. We went on a trip with mutual friends to the mountains and I returned home to pain on my face, unknowing to me, cold sores, erupting ferociously. I was naive, really naive, My mom was too. I went to the Dermatologist and he tested me, prescribed medication, and they healed temporarily as cold sores do, but I was so stressed and depressed they came back often. But initially, I was frozen, I broke down, literally, wouldn’t come out of my room for weeks, ashamed and embarrassed, depressed, concluding I only had two options:
I’d have to marry him because no one else would ever kiss me or,
I’d have to end it — My life, literally.
How could this happen to me? I was in pain — because my face hurt and I felt betrayed. When I confronted him, his response, “Olivia, we were in the mountains, my lips were dry, you kissed me anyway.” I had NO idea his chapped lips were cold sores on his face. And, he chose to further shame me, instead of taking responsibility, with his own shame. But at the time that wasn’t clear, and this wasn’t the first nor last time I had suicidal ideations, because that’s what shame does, it leaves us in pain, thinking no one else could possibly understand what we’re feeling — isolated, lonely. When really, our feelings aren’t unique. Much more extreme, but my rape in college occurred violently, by not just one but more perpetrators simultaneously, which left me gutted, on the floor of my apartment in Boston, thinking I no longer had anything to live for. Frozen, when it happened, I couldn’t fight back, so I started running — running to Miami where I started boxing, to learn to defend me.
Fast forward, today. Cold sore on my face, reliving the trauma of past feelings. Over the years I’ve cancelled dates if I get a bump on my face. It took years for me to admit honestly, but now cohabitating and there’s no hiding. So I said to my boyfriend casually, hey I’m kind of ashamed but I have this thing on my face, instead of avoiding him or lying. He started giggling. Olivia, most humans have cold sores, It’s ok. Ahh, the relief of honesty. I agree. We are only as ashamed as we choose to be.
Why is this relevant? Who cares?—
Learning to Listen: It appeared on my face at the end of last week, the night or two after I stayed up late and had two drinks, my body reacting to the stress it was feeling, combined with a day of way too much sunshine and voila, cold sore appears. Thank you body for showing me… the cold sore just a physical manifestation of stress really, listen!
2. Trusting My Intuition: This cold sore arrived on my face perfectly timed with the arrival of the frog I mentioned above, to Austin, my new city. A mutual friend called to share that they planned a trip for last weekend. Initially, I was shaken. I hadn’t seen him in decades and didn’t plan to but the fact he was going to be in my new city sent my psyche into remembering … the feelings. The shame. The isolation. So I forgave myself for shaming myself and honored my body, for remembering. Our bodies always remember. Trust the feelings! But the timing was not accidental. Thank you Universe.
3. Integrity, only: No More Censoring: I’ve been censoring myself and my writing. Editing draft after draft, attempting to perfect what, like life, will never be, perfect. My intimacy diaries and introspection have felt too deep — too much feeling. But life, and me, we’re messy! I’m over working instead of embracing my expression, which yes, I also believe manifested physically. The shame, resurfacing on my face. Stop silencing Olivia, SPEAK! AND Choose honesty — which means no longer kissing frogs, because I am a queen :) Self love is love ya’ll. It starts and ends with you and with me. How we see ourselves is how we are seen. Everything we need is inside. Happy Weekend. Feedback welcome. I'm listening ❤️.
Love Always,
Olivia