So here goes nothing, or everything… I suppose it is perception. Everything always comes back to perception. Everyone’s reality is only their own. The adage of “you don’t understand unless you walk in my shoes for a mile” – it rings true. Indeed.
I finally hit the trail yesterday afternoon- right before dusk. I hadn’t ran on my beloved Rivertrail since last fall. I have had complications with my ankle & I cannot run during the winter. I also was shorted workout time due to spending a lot of time on the phone with someone I at one point thought must be my soulmate. Hmmmm. That is another chapter though. I shall try to stay on task of writing what is on my mind & not jumping from subject to subject- all in a muddled mess.
I love running on the Rivertrail. It is such a balance of being in a city & being part of nature. I feel like I am home. I recite my own spontaneous poetry in my mind as I push my body to run faster & faster- breathing hard & focusing on all the sights & sounds around me. Running the trail is a truly sensual experience for me.
As I approached the trail, I smelled campfire. I smiled. The campfire indicated the gypsy camp is back- thriving, even though they lost some in the difficult winter this past year. I have only seen traces of their camp- in the fall when the leaves are not hiding the tops of their tents so well. And I have seen paths that lead into the woods. I have never ventured on the paths, because I feel it might be an intrusion. The woods is their home.
I continue running. I run under the train trestle –another of my favorite places along the trail. When the trail floods, I crawl up the steep hill, squeeze myself through the chainlink fence & climb the steep hill of rocks to cross over the train tracks & then descend down the otherside back to the trail. I always feel more adventurous when I have to do this. I feel like I am getting in an adventure hike incorporated into my trail run. I am happy here.
The trail continues, and I enjoy the sounds of various song birds singing to each other. I listen to the breezes & winds dancing & tumbling through the trees- singing a melody all of its own. My spirit is alive here. I sometimes slow my run to a walk to feel the air & to listen. Just listen. The earth speaks volumes when I am silent and alone.
The dappled sunlight filters through the green leaves. Spring has already turned to summer. Everything is green. There are grasses & trees & swamps along the river’s path. I see the bright purple of the flox flowers & smell their sweetness & I think of being up at my Gramma’s in the Upper Peninsula. I feel wild and free. I feel beautiful. No one can see me. I am here experiencing this nature around me & I feel connected. Life is so connected.
I continued to run, and was thinking about how all of my senses were being spoiled here on this run – maybe spoiled is not a good termt o use at all. I was being spiritually fed. Running is my zen. I can meditate while I run. I think this is why I prefer to run alone. I do not want to entertain mindless chatter. I want to regain my inner peace. I want to feel all my senses to the full extent. I want to be alive.
I reached the spot of the trail where I am at the bridge right before my half-way point. It is the place that I will write about again, while talking about other things. Not now. Last night everything was calm, I kept running. I was meditating on the differences between being sensual and sexual. Ahh, what a fun subject to be mulling over when pushing my body so hard- sweating from every pore, breathing hard, working my muscles to the max. Pushing myself harder and harder. In a way, running is almost like sex, right? So is being sensual.
I was mulling all of this over because I was recently asked some questions about sex. I will call him “Arizona” J For the first time in a long time, someone seems to be truly interested in me, not just fucking around. I owe him honest answers- regardless of what the future holds. I owe myself honesty. I cannot live in such a manner anymore that I am always trying to please others & be to others what I perceive it is that they want or need. For God’s sake- look at where it has gotten me. (long story- will write more on that later. And maybe not ever in a blog but rather a book when I can write under an alias.)
Sex. Hmmmmm. Such an interesting subject. Right?
I think I am a very sexual person. I mean- I’m horny most of the time. So that means I’m sexual, right? Maybe. Maybe not. I think I am, but I think I have hangups regarding sex… Which is probably more normal that I let myself believe. I cannot be the only fucked up girl here on planet earth, right?
I am indeed a very sensual person. I cannot choose which of my senses is most important to me. I have ADD/ADHD of the senses. I get soulgasms from music, I feel connected to mother earth. I believe in living fully- and when I cannot live fully, I feel like I am dying. Irony is I have spent years numbing myself by ways of binge drinking- just to stop feeling. Because I have not known how to deal with the madness in my head. I don’t drink anymore- and I am forcing myself to confront these demons in my past.
I think part of my hangups about sex (it is true- I have faked many an orgasm – because sometimes I just don’t let myself let go. I cannot let go. Because on some primal level I do not want to give into the person I am with all the way- I cannot let myself become that vulnerable. I enjoy it, sure- but very rarely have I truly let myself go to fully enjoy the experience. I honestly believe it comes down to trust. Trusting others, and maybe even trusting myself…
Sexuality. A dear friend of mine once told me I was “trisexual” –I would try anything at least once, if not twice- to rule out if I liked it or not. Hah. I suppose she is mostly right…
So. I have come to the conclusion that I am both sensual & sexual. I can live with this. So why the hangups? The hangup is letting myself go, and being able to be truly intimate & trust another person fully. Sure I’ve fucked around a lot. I have made jokes about all the random stories I can tell about sex with people & in random places. But they make for better stories than the actual memories attached. Deep down I am still the scared little girl afraid of being left behind, again. And again. And again.
I think people misconstrue my sensuality & sexuality. I think I am very full of light and love and energy that people sometimes misunderstand that I truly only want to be friends, I do not want to be lovers. Oy.
I was about 20 or 21. I was asked over to the neighbor’s to have a tour of the house because I might be housesitting for them later in the summer. They wanted to show me the basement. I don’t know how everything happened so fast. We were going down the stairs & all of a sudden my hands were back behind my back & tied with rope. They told me how hot I was. How beautiful I was. I was scared & didn’t know what to do. These people were supposedly my friends. I wanted to scream, but my voice didn’t work. My jeans were unbuttoned. My shirt was torn off. I must have had a look of fear in my eyes, because the woman interrupted this madness & let me go. She then told me that they were all going to get a hotel room later that night and really wanted me to come & join in on the fun. I left the house. I never went back.
Needless to say- I do not like getting tied up during sex. Never.
Another summer- there was a neighborhood party. We were all drinking. Several of the guys told me that they had been watching me for years. Apparently I was the sight to see when I would do yardwork in my spandex bikeshorts & little tanktops. I always thought there was something so wrong with me, because the two guys across the street never flirted with me. I must have been hideously ugly. Then they admitted to watching me, fantacizing about me. I was like the neighborhood Lolita or something. There was a lot of joking going on, and then the older man across the street said he often fantacized about me giving him blowjobs. I wanted to vomit. The younger guy who had admitted to watching me from his house all those years walked me home that night. In a drunken state of misunderstood feelings, I let him have me.
Hmmmm. Love & lust….
Flashing to just a time in recent years. December of 2008, to be exact, I agreed to meet an internet friend for a date of sorts. It was awkward at best. And I hate dating. I hate the awkwardness & would much rather be someone’s friend than go through the weirdness of meeting someone on a date. Yuck. Anyways. We went out for some drinks and local music. He drank jack daniels. A lot of it. I think I had a few vodka tonics. There was no way he could drive home, so I said he could stay on my couch. We’d watch movies. This is the really difficult part to write about. It still seems so vivid. So fresh in my mind. And then blackness. Nothing. I forced myself out of my brain to shut down. People maybe assume I’m a slut or something because I am a bit of a wild child. I am not. At least I do not mean to be. I was raped that night. I don’t even know if the guy really even knew what he did to me, because he was so wasted. I started drinking a lot after that. Just to be numb. I can still feel the burn of my face being shoved into the chair & then down into the floor. And then nothing. I force myself to forget.
Hmmmm. I think I cannot write any more today. I need to process some of this. Now that I have written it out. There is so much more, but I think I’m feeling small & vulnerable & frightened. I am going to sleep for a bit. Maybe have a good cry. I have needed a good cry for so long. I need to cry this all out of me so it doesn’t leave me sick and infected in my spirit anymore…….. ~t~
