Awakening

Back in October, I wrote this about needing to be brought back into some sort of sensory awareness of my own body. I was, at that point, reaching the low ebb of my ability to continue to believe that there would ever be a point when things would get any better for me physically or emotionally. That piece was "analytical," and experiential, but it was also, in its own way, desperately emotionally needy. I was in pain; locked inside and unable to break out of the shell I'd wrapped up in, and needing to be sprung from the prison I'd created for myself.

These last days have been, for me, a tidal wave of sensory experience. I am physically awake again. My BUTT HURTS! One of the lasting results of the stepped up levels of discipline that I've been subjected to, is that I have some pretty pervasive deep bruising that is a continual sensory reminder. And that is a good thing -- a very good thing. I am back into a physical realm that I've been too long out of, and (for someone who works like I do) where the body goes, the head seems to follow... I've dropped out of the need or desire or even move to control or push or drive things -- that hasn't ever really stopped being true since the knee replacement almost two years ago (when I became the hyper-vigilant nurse and guardian). I've felt myself come back into my slave space, in the way I hold myself, in the way I sound to myself, in the way I move and breathe and react to things. Mostly, I feel my body waking up and responding again -- it feels female again suddenly, and I am delighted in it.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm horny. Pretty much all the time. Again. After more than a year of near "rigor mortis," things are awake and alive. Miraculous! I'm not exactly sure of the count, but I think it might be that there've been four orgasms in the last five days -- that might be more orgasms than I've managed in probably the last nine or ten months. My dreams are full of all sorts of wildly sexual images. I'm finding myself, not angry, but aroused at the end of sessions. I've remembered to simply make love like the animal thing that it is -- just go for it, feel it, do it, love the doing. And guess what? It works like that, when I don't get caught up in thinking too much... DUH!

It really does feel like I've been all wrapped up in some sort of plaster or plastic or bubble wrap or something... Numb to every single thing for just ages. Hard to feel anything above the roar of the overwhelming anger and grief. Now I'm awake and alive and soft and tender and everything suddenly FEELS...

Of course, the dilemma now, is what does He do with me?

BOINK, BOINK, BOINK!!!

swan