To, Me. From, You.
What a time it is to be alive these days. Unfortunately we have a reality tv star as President, but all things considered it could be worse. There are so many outlets out here that allow you to express your true self. Every one has a story to tell. My story is to awaken the shadow of my former self. To actually feel on the outside instead of always internalizing then acting out like a terrible two year old. As a child I remember being filled with one feeling; happiness, then all the other ones started to appear.
At the age of fifteen a tonka truck of feelings hit me so hard, I’m still in a coma. I don’t know why that age resonates with me. Maybe because I got my period or maybe because I lost my virginity. [Sorry Mom] For anyone reading this, it is totally a young age to become a woman, considering you have no idea what it is to be one yet. If I could go back in time I would’ve waited, but I can’t and it is time to feel normal again. My mother put me in an all girls school. She feared that my obsession with boys [what girl isn’t] would deter me from keeping my grades up. Little did she know it did the complete opposite. All the girls in my school were just as into boys as I was. There was plenty of sex talk, sex books covered in brown paper bags, makeup wearing, and gossip. I swear when I entered school I was a naive little girl who had just had her first kiss a year prior to. I can’t tell you if it was peer pressure or hormones that got me into bed with this boy, he just made me feel pretty, for like a second, then ran to the basketball court with all my friends and turned my cherry popping into a running joke. I never spoke or saw him again. Imagine what it felt like to have been turned into a woman than have a “boy” take that power from you. I wish I could say it was the last time I felt that sense of shame.
That same year I went on vacation with a close friend. It was the first time my mother trusted me enough to go on a trip without her. That trip started off as one of my favorite times with this friend. We never strayed away from her parents, except our last night. We were so freaking innocent at the time, our fun consisted of playing pool games, tanning on the beach, hanging by the hotel room. Then we met boys, cute strange boys and it all went to shit. These boys had invited us on a date to the boardwalk, her parents begrudgingly allowed us to do this on our own. With their trust in hand we thought it would be a great idea to drink, the boys brought two orange juice containers filled with ONLY vodka! Mind you I had never really drank before, so why I thought it would be a good idea is beyond me. Here we are four teenagers drinking vodka with a splash of orange juice riding rollercoasters. Which in return is an oxymoron, are we adults or are we children? Quickly the night turned into a blur as they took us back to their shore house. It could have just ended a beautiful night. We should have left, gone home and dealt with the drunkenness on the sofa bed. Instead we stayed. We stayed and drank some more. There’s a scene that flashes in my head of me reaching for the closet door as one of the boy’s body weighs heavily on top of mine. I could hear my friend say my name through the crack on the bottom of the door. And then its gone, and I wake up in a hospital bed with my mother’s worried face standing over me. My mother drove 3 hours that night. Three long hours not knowing what the hell her daughter had gotten into to. Not knowing myself what had just happened. My friend and I never really spoke about that night, maybe once years later. We never spoke about what happened in that closet, it wasn’t until i got a phone call a few days later of these boys mocking my landing strip that I even put two and two together. I laughed filled with embarrassment and never thought about it again. Or so I thought.
Everything I have done after has had a sexual connection. The way I dressed, talked, how many men I slept with, the amount of alcohol I ingested. All of it was to regain my power back, to hide the scar. Sex became a numb feeling to me. It still is. I was the girl who slept with a boy searching for the one time it felt right. You know what that makes me? A hoe. Do you know what that makes the boy? A man. We women, always feel shame when it comes to sex. Even a PornStar who in her own right thinks she’s in control, deep down is still that little girl. Don’t read this and feel sorry for me, and don’t turn this into a hashtag. This has been happening for centuries, it is the curse of the forbidden fruit. We turned nakedness into lust. Turned lust into power, and when a man feels powerless he takes it from us. [FYI men have stories too, there is no gender when it comes to wanting power.] This movement has taken power from those who feel they need it most, and when they take it back, because they will, they always do. Who will be the one bent over?
IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO THOSE WITH STORIES: do not fear those who are ultimately equal to you. do not let them take your power, your voice. do not let them know they have won. If you are ever in a position where you feel uncomfortable punch them in the throat. If you feel the authorities will help you and not shame you, call them! AND ALWAYS, ALWAYS talk to someone. Teenagers talk to your parents, let them in, let them get to know you before it is too late. Please know I am with you, I am you.
Love More, Peace More and Roar More.
Your Wild Spirit Guide,