LEANING INTO INTIMACY

THE MOST INTRUSIVE DATING DIARY I’VE EVER WRITTEN

“Maybe today you can totally let go,” the yoga teacher said as I laid on my mat, face up, arms wide, yoga block under my spine to crack my heart open. “But haven’t I let go so much already?”I wonder. I exhale to empty and remember there’s always more to dig into. Less resistance more ease, flow thru the fight. Keep going.

We sat on my balcony two months ago, interlaced as usual. Six dates in after our five day third date in Mexico. “How do you really get to know someone?” I asked him. I’m pretty open, but I’ve never let any one in fully because I’m scared, dare I say, terrified of intimacy. It’s shocking, considering I wear my heart on my sleeve, air my intimate stories, make eye contact with strangers — eye sex, sporadically, but truth is I’ve never trusted fully. And those I’ve trusted took advantage, mostly. Intimacy requires going deep, the surrender of not knowing, bare naked vulnerability. Some people skate the surface their entire lives, grow families, never bothering to ask what’s beneath — because it's easier to run than stay in the depth of what feels scary. I think that’s why people cheat. Intimacy requires seeing ourselves, so we can be seen.

RELATIONSHIP

I didn’t acknowledge the depth of my fear until recently. As a multi-time sexual assault survivor, my traumas resulted in many layers of shielding to protect me. They aren’t shed easily, but this past year allowed me time and space to take personal inventory. Learning me is about self trust and loving me. I have everything I need. 

I loved Austin since arriving but a few months ago was skeptical about the lack of available man candy. But I believe in manifesting. So I casually asked the universe to send me Ted Lasso minus to mustache, and ten days later, as I doubted, he arrived, mustached. He zoned in on me at a party, I thought he was sweet — until he kissed me, which had me scurrying to leave. Cue my fear of intimacy. Driving home over Barton Hills, the full moon shining, I prayed aloud, “Please moon, send me love,” with no acknowledgement of the mustached man at the party. It was just after I completed my fifth medicine assisted therapy, skeptical but trusting in the universe, I acknowledged that Mother Nature was both holding me and testing me, simultaneously asking “Are you ready?” I let him in, with resistance, naturally, even blew him off our first date, but we went out shortly thereafter. He was taken by me because I asked him “too” personal questions. I can be forthcoming, disarming, and sometimes alarming, and while fearful of it, I crave intimacy in everything. The universe surprised me with a guy whose energy makes me feel safe enough to let my guard down, or at least attempt a try. Three dates and ten days later we were on our way to Mexico. It felt fast, but once we arrived, the time passed, and since, we’ve spent the last few months, leaning in and learning.

Time freezes when we’re together, less pressure and more presence, and no matter how often I object to his bidding, reacting from fear, self sabotaging—he remains. He arrives with a smile and flowers sporadically, or a rational discussion when things feel challenging. He slips into my arms to dance while I’m cooking. I thought that was cheesy, but how romantic, actually! He is open to growing into himself and into me. My reaction? Surprised, but present, careful not to get caught up in future plans, but clear there is something different about our chemistry. 

My dating game history, experiences with “love” after age 17 provoked all sorts of infatuation, chasing, and chess, but true love eluded me, because I had to first fall in love with me and uproot stuck patterning, untying the trauma bonds binding me to unknowingly date doppelgängers of my perpetrators, mirroring how much self love I was lacking. I chose unavailable partners because I wasn’t ready. I’ve faced my shadows and all be it humbling, I’m really proud of me. I’m no longer hiding behind my ego to protect me. I want to be seen. And if I desire the deep love and partnership I’ve dreamed of, be it with him or another, I have to continue trusting me.

I believe in monogamy, but I don’t know that there is a “Disney” version - one person for everybody. But the little girl in me hopes that her soul mate awaits - it might be him - not sure, too early. Whether he and I see eye to eye for a short time or a long while, I know this experience, like the rest was served to me with reason and to prepare me for what’s next, in full trust because I trust me. 

"I fell in love with the way I was quiet and how I was all alone because during that time my intuitions voice became louder and I was able to call myself home” - Wattney 

Love over fear. With him and in me I feel an aliveness I’ve never felt both to his credit and me facing my history. These new sensations, the flutter in my belly, even in a crowded room, I’m the only one he sees. He grabs me off my feet, kisses me as we’re twirling. The moment passes and we return to reality. Intimacy. He sees into me, wants to learn more about me. When he gets quiet, I ask what he’s thinking.

SEX

I kick off my heels back at my place because comfort is queen. We snuggle on my 20th floor balcony, listening to Austin’s infectious energy reverberating from the street. It’s not long before we’re back inside, we draw each other in, he craves me, insatiably, clothes flying. The intensity is primal. I’m tamer, still sweeping out remnants of shame, not mine but what my abusers left on me. Stale crumbs of old memories stored in my body, sporadic imagery of being sexualized so early. I can be shy. And yet I’m more comfortable in my skin than I’ve ever been but learning how to be more open sexually, receive and give pleasure willingly,  learning the joy of physical intimacy. Our bodies fit and time freezes again. But sometimes my body still escapes me for safer refuge in my mind, where I hid for years so I wouldn’t have to feel anything, My work is noticing when I dissociate, so I can fly back into the body that holds me, present in the moment to experience pleasure, surrendering into him and me. It wasn’t until last July when my ex asked me if I’d been violated after our “first time,” that I started questioning everything. I didn’t realize I was living a lie. I didn’t know I was dead inside.  

A month ago, Lasso said to me in bed, “I want you to tell me what you like, what feels good, I want you to use me.” That shook me. I responded sheepishly, “What if this conversation scares me more than telling you my deepest fears?” He heard me. He doesn’t pry, but he also doesn’t know what I don’t tell him. “Sometimes I don’t feel anything, which is why for years I’ve been able to run miles, box, and do yoga like a machine, resilient in my mind but detached from my body. Also, feeling and talking about this openly is new for me.” That’s when my tears start running. These are feelings no one should feel, violated, for so many years, but I prefer to feel them now, then keep running. 

I breathe out of my thoughts and return back to my body. I’m safe here. My practice is presence to feel instead of escape into fantasy, trauma or autopilot, just to serve his needs. This is for me. He’s on top and I begin coaching me, mentally. This is your power, your life force, your beautiful, sexy, healthy body. You built this. You earned this, now own it. I coach myself into taking back all of me for every time my body was taken without my consenting. And with the rush of energy, him inside me, I release, no longer victim to my history, I coach myself into orgasming, owning my pleasure because I am so worthy.  As much as it’s the penetration, it’s the self acknowledgment, self permission, the celebration that my body is working. A release— free from self limiting beliefs, and from the parts I’ve shut off or shut down every time I’ve been violated.  I reconnect to my feminine essence, my inner queen. Every time we connect, I practice this routine, “You’re safe Olivia. Slow down, feel everything, just breathe.” I know I won’t need this forever, but for now, its working —  reclaiming me, making myself whole again, taking back what was taken: my heart, soul, body. I’m free. 

"Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”— James Baldwin

The sun rose the next morning, and so did we. I boiled water in my favorite kettle, him beside me. In past relationships I stayed at their places so I could leave early and avoid intimately sharing morning after conversation. But it’s different here. I’m different here. I made Dandy Blend with Bulletproof collagen, frothed with coconut cream, cinnamon and a drop of sugar free flavoring. He likes caramel. I prefer flavor rotating. We talk briefly until I get antsy, and he always says the same thing, “Are you kicking me out?” It's time for my morning routine: meditate, then movement through any stagnant energy. He leaves and I lace up my sneakers and leap onto the street. My energy is lighter, my feet almost singing - ascending from a dark year of reconstituting memories. I’m reconnecting. With a clear mind and open heart, came clarity: How can I trust him with feelings I’ve not yet felt? Meaning sexually. 

Sex was never about me. No man ever acknowledged my needs, and acknowledging them was never part of my vocabulary. I felt more shame than pleasure, was never really comfortable even being naked with me. What a gift to embrace all of me, especially my sexuality, and the opportunity to grow into deeper conversation be it with him or just me. As I moved myself out of my way, one foot in front of the other, I felt brave. The only way to rid ourselves of our shame is to face it, be less afraid, own our stories and our shapes. We have to learn to trust our bodies. So often women especially are more concerned about pleasing others, in any capacity. Said patterns parlay to everything. 

Intimacy isn’t relinquished just to physical, sexual, romantic connection. Intimacy is seeing another, intimately, connecting, vulnerably, sometimes sharing, sometimes, just listening. Intimacy is learning to let go. I’m focusing on my intimate connection to me, while we engage in play as a couple. I feel a comfort in my body unlike ever before, I’m owning my sexy. I even wore nipple stickers out on Halloween! I stopped hiding. There is a wholeness, an entirety, no secrets., because I stopped hiding from me. I let him watch me get dressed, as he offers opinion on my outfits. His confidence and masculinity outshines any of my “less than” remnants.. It’s freeing. Yet, as I learn this new language, a sprinkle of sadness still hovers for the three decades of life I never inhabited this body. As I reconnect, I thank myself often and audibly for holding me— and for shutting down so many years ago so I wouldn’t have to feel the horrors forced upon me. 

Me & him, we’re not perfect by any means. I assume and he internalizes, but we communicate openly. I’m learning to trust what he says, he means. I’m not used to transparency, lack of alternative motive, in him or in me. What should feel safe doesn’t to me because normalcy isn’t normal for me. I’m used to volatility. Trauma trained me young to shut down and freeze or find the exit door so I could break free.

I completed my sixth assisted medicine therapy the other week. And for the first time since beginning my healing I saw light and love, instead of all my past wounding. Mother Nature wrapped her arms around me and pulled me out of my dark history. After seven hours of sweating and shaking, Ted Lasso picked me up, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Without darkness there is no light, and if it weren’t for the cracks in me and in life, the light couldn’t shine in. My gratitude runs deep — for where I’ve been, where I am, and where I”m going. Healing from sexual trauma doesn’t happen over night. And whether you’ve been victimized or not, chances are you too might be afraid of intimacy, of being seen and seeing yourself — fully. I’m with you.  I am you. You are me. But there is light and there is love in all of us, truly. Embrace your cracks. Let your light shine in. Start feeling.  Love always,  Olivia 

—for more dating diaries, see “LIVSEXY” via blog.
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