I will give this all a chance. But because I choose to, not for any other reason. I am deciding to take the new job and ride it out. My goal is two years and that goal has become quite malleable in the past two weeks. I want to work for myself. I want to be at home, to cultivate. By home I mean in my own rhythms, driven by my own choreography.
I bled with Adam last time we were intimate. I didn't discuss the thing. I just wanted a nice dinner and a heart connection. My body bled, my heart bleeds.
Giving up the idea of children is freeing. It's life that I can dedicate to those I love and chase every curiosity. I want someone to tell me that I'm wrong but I don't know why.
I find myself putting up ever more boundaries in relation to work while I shatter personal ones. Or rather, I work to continuously shatter any boundary of ego that doesn't serve me.
I'm sleeping in my bed tonight for the first time in four nights. Every day, a different town, a new bed. Colorado is like a fire ceremony to me, smoke drifting in, teasing past my bones. I drove through mountain, canyon, snow, ice, sun, and rain today. La querencia is nestling in again.
27 February 2015
15 February 2015
The Casual Sex Project
Energy is the currency of the universe.
Today I read something and tears came to my eyes immediately. A sickening sadness, deeply personal.
What if you read something wildly personal about yourself? A chop shop version of an intimate encounter that meant quite a bit to you. And now the only meaning is the titillation of the one you shared the night with and his wife. They got off on my story, this encounter. What then? I cease to matter except in relation to them. I did think he cared for me. I am so naive in the softest ways.
There's your moment. There's the thing that mattered at the time, that still matters in the small sweet hollow of my heart. He left out many details. He described my hair, my eyes, my body, the play by play of the night. But what I felt is mine. The excitement, the happiness, the following meetings. Waking up next to him crazy with desire. The way our dreams invaded the energy of the other. My desire to bring him into my world. The lizard brain he nudged awake.
I read it this morning on Twitter but it's on Facebook too. I let myself cry, I felt the pain. Then I pulled on my running shoes and pushed out the door, clocking a pr in my local run. I went to Courtney's house and lay across her bed and basked in the sweet necessity of female friendship. I came home and made the most vibrant meal and read halfway through a fascinating book.
My alarm is set for 5:30 tomorrow morning and the day is full of delicious learning and possibility.
I hate cages but I honor love and respect. I wish he had set me free before I became nothing more than a kink, unfinished business that delights his current situation. I'm so strong and so willingly to walk away. I wish he had let me.
A man I barely know brought me a poem, roses and a bottle of Jameson yesterday. But the things is, he doesn't seem like a risk. He would be another Jason.
No one reads this blog but I need to immortalize what happened as a reminder. He speaks a different language than I do. I thought he could translate. I was wrong.
Aloha.
Today I read something and tears came to my eyes immediately. A sickening sadness, deeply personal.
What if you read something wildly personal about yourself? A chop shop version of an intimate encounter that meant quite a bit to you. And now the only meaning is the titillation of the one you shared the night with and his wife. They got off on my story, this encounter. What then? I cease to matter except in relation to them. I did think he cared for me. I am so naive in the softest ways.
There's your moment. There's the thing that mattered at the time, that still matters in the small sweet hollow of my heart. He left out many details. He described my hair, my eyes, my body, the play by play of the night. But what I felt is mine. The excitement, the happiness, the following meetings. Waking up next to him crazy with desire. The way our dreams invaded the energy of the other. My desire to bring him into my world. The lizard brain he nudged awake.
I read it this morning on Twitter but it's on Facebook too. I let myself cry, I felt the pain. Then I pulled on my running shoes and pushed out the door, clocking a pr in my local run. I went to Courtney's house and lay across her bed and basked in the sweet necessity of female friendship. I came home and made the most vibrant meal and read halfway through a fascinating book.
My alarm is set for 5:30 tomorrow morning and the day is full of delicious learning and possibility.
I hate cages but I honor love and respect. I wish he had set me free before I became nothing more than a kink, unfinished business that delights his current situation. I'm so strong and so willingly to walk away. I wish he had let me.
A man I barely know brought me a poem, roses and a bottle of Jameson yesterday. But the things is, he doesn't seem like a risk. He would be another Jason.
No one reads this blog but I need to immortalize what happened as a reminder. He speaks a different language than I do. I thought he could translate. I was wrong.
Aloha.
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