I’m searching for the girl with the twinkle in her eyes
She’s there in the photos from the past
That shimmer – that sparkle – who I long to be again
If I keep looking, will I find her at last?
I’m searching for the girl with the twinkle in her eyes
She’s there in the photos from the past
That shimmer – that sparkle – who I long to be again
If I keep looking, will I find her at last?
Much of my adult life has been about coming to terms with lust.
Having grown up in a fairly conservative family with mainly Protestant roots, I learned early on to deny and repress my lust: for life, for sex, for fame, for love, for food.
So much so that I lived a kind of double life from my teens into my twenties.
I hid many behaviors that all revolved around my various appetites. Somewhere in my somewhat stunted emotional development, I had learned that being seen as having a need (be it physical or otherwise) was weak, unattractive.
And so I learned to pretend I did not have them.
And yet, at the same time, I also had a very strong need to be seen as a sexual object. (See Sexual Healing, my previous post on this issue.) This presented quite a war within me. I desperately wanted to be seen and treated like a sexually desirable woman – that was sort of the ultimate need. At the same time, I had shame and embarrassment around this and had strong messaging that that was bad, and that I should be a good girl with no sexuality, appetites, strong opinions or feelings.
And so I pretended to be one one way while in secret I acted in other ways.
I invested a great deal of time into creating the illusion that I was chaste, a normal eater, and had a very neutral opinion on just about everything. I monitored my emotions and watched myself around people, carefully choosing mannerisms and tones to project a good girl.
Meanwhile, I was living quite another kind of life, a life I hid from my family, my friends. A life of appetite and lust and danger.
There were certainly angels watching over me. I was often in the wrong places at the wrong time. Somehow, I survived.
At a certain point in my twenties, the jig was up, as they say.
My psyche demanded that I heal the split, and I began the process of recovering wholeness again.
Of uncovering my own genuine appetites from a place of love, curiosity and acceptance. Of letting go of the urge to keep my appetites hidden.
I began a process of embracing of my true nature and wants and needs as beautiful reflections of my own humanity. I began the shedding of the shaming nature that I inherited.
An unlearning of the social pressure that happens in middle school to put a damper on enthusiasm, to keep a lid on want to look cool.
I learned to let myself eat as I really wanted to in front of others.
I learned to let myself be seen trying, excited, wanting, sexy, hungry, angry, hopeful, happy, disappointed, frightened, messy, unhappy, empty, full, vulnerable, awkward, lonely, blissful.
I learned to let myself be seen. As I really am.
Today I value the self-honesty that I live from. Truth is of huge importance to me.
Though I am still in awe of the capacity I had within my own psyche to maintain such a dichotomy the way I did – that I could compartmentalize two such distinct worlds at once – I am so grateful that that is just a chapter in my story.
Today, I have one world with many parts: parts that co-mingle and bring me great joy in their diversity.
I celebrate my appetites, I revel in my enthusiasms and passions.
I love my lust. It is what lets me know I am human. And alive.
So today, I try to wear my lust like a smile.
Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: lust
The weight of hidden truths
Bent her spirit years ago
Self-contained pressure
Wore down potential and hope
An undetectable scoliosis of the soul
Left a misshapen heart that strains to beat
Things That Are Traditional in My Family That I Inherited (Whether I Like It Or Not:)
Grandmother’s Thanksgiving Stuffing
Disbelief in Good Things Lasting
Aunt’s Pumpkin Bread Served at All Gatherings
Serving Dishes and Calling Them “Salads” Even Though They Contain No Vegetables Unless You Consider Miniature Marshmallows and Jello Vegetables
Dad and Uncle’s Christmas Chili
Finding the Least Trafficked Back-Routes When Driving Places Even If It Takes Much Longer Just Because “It’s The Back-Way”
Spode Christmas Tree China On the Table at Major Holidays Whether It Is Christmas Or Not
Distrust of Strangers & Non-Family People, Too
Gradma’s Green Bean Recipe
Waiting for The Proverbial “Other Shoe” to Drop
Watching Longhorn Games on TV No Matter What the Occasion (Funeral/Holiday)
The Avoidance of Heavy Traffic and Bad Weather At All Costs Even If It Means Not Going Out
Keeping A Stiff Upper Lip/Never Let Them See You Cry/Keep It In The Family
Inspired By The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: traditional
I hear you now
From within, so deeply hidden you had no chance of being heard until now
I thought maybe you’d flown away with the night and my innocence
Or maybe you’d been crushed by the weight of his body on mine
I held a funeral for you inside and accepted the loss
And then, one day, there you were; and at first
I could not recognize you through the warp and woof that my soul became
Here you are now
And I found you, and though you were unrecognizable to me
I knew and loved you at first sight with every fiber of my being
I’d never seen anything more heart-breakingly beautiful in my life
I drew your little burned body into my arms, your flesh black and peeling
Raw, red skin angering through the seared pain of the past
I loved you until the dead flesh fell away, until you pinked up and began to flourish
In the fore of my heart I let you pick your own room and decorate it pink and kitty cats
Let the other girls invite you to play and read you stories
I gave you hot baths and fed you warm milk and cookies, told you I was putting you first now
And I realized that you were more me than any me I had ever been before or would ever be
Now you are here
And you are my everything, you are the key, finally – the center of us all
You carry my truth, my play, my freedom, my deepest self-song
Now I am here
The parent who will protect you from that kind of hurt ever happening again
The mother who will love you like you are my everything
The woman who sings a self-song so beautiful it makes me cry to hear it
I hear you now
For Suzanne, with Thanks & Love
Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: dormant