learning about other forms of intimacy.
Sweat is actually dripping into my eyes and I feel like an athlete. If athletes approach their runs with switching off jogging for walking every time a song ends.
Like many things, exercise is what I come back to when I’m feeling stuck.
I’ve been back in therapy. This time with a psychiatrist. They’re non-binary and have an eyebrow piercing. It feels very right. I’ve been doing the most work on myself in probably ever. This part feels not so great. Mostly because I wish there was some already “healed” version of me to be. But I know that healing trauma isn’t some light switch. It comes and goes in waves.
The more we unpack, the more I feel. The more we unpack, the more I remember parts of my childhood.
The more we unpack, the more I am able to finally think the words I knew were true:
“What they did was awful.”
“My Dad is a bad man.”
“Learning to roll with anything and be silent wasn’t something a child should have had to do.”
Lately I’ve been thinking about my attachment style, and how at the root of my anxious attachment, I’m actually emotionally unavailable. Its strange to think that the thing that makes me beg for affection is actually a sign of being afraid of intimacy.
“If you deeply desire unavailable people, it’s because you know deep down you may never get them. It helps you with a deep-rooted belief that you’re actually unlovable all along.”
I pause and rewind the podcast.
It takes A WHILE to find one that’s not heavily gendered. I feel the most myself and true when I say I’m a cis woman, but I don’t want to listen to a woman talk about her “divine feminine energy.”
I cringe at my desk as if my coworkers can hear anything outside of my giant, noise cancelling headphones.
I find a better podcast.
“If you grew up in an emotionally unstable environment, you learned to regulate in it. When you’re not regulating in an unstable environment, or relationship, your brain knows that dopamine hit from uncertainty is never coming. So, you get the ick.”
This podcast is better. This podcast is worse. Uncomfortable truths tend to make my stomach drop. Is this the perfect time for some somatic therapy?
I lightly tap my chest through the discomfort. I do that now: manage my stress in ways that feel good.
“Romantic intimacy doesn’t have to be the only thing that feels good.”
— — — — —
My couch is covered in plastic thick enough to hold its shape when I take it off. My cat, Stormy, has some bladder issues that are easily fixed with cranberry supplements. Before that, she’d pee on my couch upwards of 4 times a day.
I decided to just work with her on this.
“Sitting on this plastic couch is the closest I’ll get to church.”
My friend Theo laughs as he sits down on it, unbothered by the muted crinkling.
It’s a day in the middle of the week and I’ve cut up fresh veggies for my friends.
Dee and Theo remind me of a home I’ve never had. Of Blackness I’ve been too afraid to reach out for.
I braided my hair and hated it. I was too lazy to do a good job. I sit and add in braids as I talk to them, embarrassment the furthest thing from my mind. It feels good to have friends who get this part of Blackness. The normalcy of doing your hair in front of someone. I’ve done my hair since I was a child, and I don’t need a mirror most of the time. I can see with my fingers by now.
Is this intimacy?
— — — — —
My friend loops an arm around my shoulder while we watch a band with a name we don’t know. It’s easy to get lost in music when the singer is as expressive as she is. We nod along and don’t talk.
— — — — —
My new friend makes a joke about fan fiction tropes, holding a book up while we listen to a DJ at wicker park fest. When people have my same sense of humor, I feel really seen.
— — — — —
I’ve been wondering if am pronouncing a DJs name wrong. If my friends are also saying it wrong. If we’re saying it wrong together. It’s a strange sort of happiness: to feel like I belong in this way.
— — — — —
We all agree we’re done drinking. We take shots at the next bar.
— — — — —
I don’t know what security feels like, I realize. Is it the thing that makes me want to run away?
What parts of myself do I want to hide?
Is it my impatience?
My anger?
My overwhelming need to be right?
My desire to be silent most of the time.
I want all of these parts to be held.
