you and me

Woman, Trust Your Desire, Even Without the ‘Right’ Body.

{Photo credit: Genava Gisondi}

 

She, exhausted from coloring between the lines, comes to me.

A strong woman, who has always bent over backwards to make it work.

She goes to the meetings, the clubs, she attends all the right committees, but she says it’s just barely scratching the surface of this hunger.

This hunger that wakes her up in the middle of the night. The hunger that she tried to fill with everything they say should satiate her. The right clothes, the right family, the right way of being quiet enough to not stir up too much trouble.

She says the bills are mostly paid, things are good, but for the aching of this damn hunger. Like a quiet echo somewhere deep within.

It is the aching that we get used to, that we learn to build our lives around quietly, as if we are not shells of who we once were. As if we are hundred percent satisfied living for the empty validation of someone else.

Her eyes narrow and she finds the cracks somehow in her beautiful exterior, acting as if any part of her is void of the Divine.

“Things are as they should be. I should be grateful for what I have, right? It could be worse.”

She looks at me with the resolve of a soldier at war, with little energy left for herself.

A good woman whose goodness has been her prison for too long, as goodness can often be.

“Tell me the last time you were alive,” I say.

“Tell me when you felt your body burn.”

I watch her drop into her body and she becomes breathless. She asks for forgiveness, not yet used to the delicious undone-ness of her vulnerability.

“It was the summer when I was 19. I slept outside more nights than not. I would roll around on the ground with this lover. Grass would get stuck under my bra. It was ridiculous.”

“And incredible,” I say.

“And incredible,” she says in agreement.

She says it was too much, she was too much, her passion was too much. So she stuffed it down under Doritos, and late night television, and having dinner parties for her neighbors.

She said she became a mother. Mothers don’t want. Mothers don’t desire.

“What if you let yourself desire? What might you want now, even after all these years?”

I watch this spark light her up. I listen as she pours on about the reasons we all have, the things and the to-do lists and the promises that keep us from letting that desire in underneath the skin. For keeping the taste for it, no matter what.

I ask her to trust that desire, without the great lover, without the right body, without the permission from anyone else but her own.

“And what do I have to risk?”

“Risk everything, and gain ‘you’.”

And this is what we can do, and this is how we will get our sex back.

In the face of normal numbness, we say,

“As for me, I will risk everything.”

***

MariaPalumbo03Maria Palumbo is a transformation coach. A lover of desire, she reveals the flame within all, and holds space for thriving and creating from a place of pleasure. She teaches freedom from shame and the embodiment of worthiness. You could email her to receive info on her coaching and classes, and follow her work at her website or Facebook.

***

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