When I was 20 years old I took this philosophy class in college and in the class there was this woman who I started studying with.
She was basically the opposite of me. She had long blonde hair, big fake boobs and was very outgoing in her sexuality.
During our study sessions at her apartment she would regale me with stories of her attending strip clubs and becoming the main act and flirting with rich men at her bartending job.
One time she even flashed me her glorious silicone breasts. I can actually still remember her shiny, gold, lycra camisole lifting up as she shocked the shit out of me.
At the time I thought I was simply intrigued by her. She was bold and wild and didn’t give a fuck. If I had met her now I may have a very different experience of her. In fact I’m sure I would.
But then I enjoyed her company that consisted of studying at her place.
What I never connected with at the time or even until more recently is that I was attracted to this person. I know this now because after years of disconnection in 2017 I finally began to truly connect with my bisexuality.
I know this because last week when I was doing one of my tantra healing sessions (this consists of a 90-minute pleasure-based sexual somatic healing session, aka a really long and deeply spiritual masterbation sesh) a memory of her came up.
I know this because she’s actually made several appearances in fantasies I’ve had over the years.
But I didn’t fully understand it until the grief around these memories surfaced. Shocking and unexpected grief tangled with insidious shame that had me sobbing during this healing session. A cry that while unexpected felt so damn therapeutic.
And in that moment I realized just how far back my attraction to women went. I mean of course it did. I didn’t just wake up one morning at 37 and decide I liked women.
I realized how roped off this piece of my sexuality had been from me for so damn long. So much so that it’s taken me years to even see any of it.
This opened me up to taking a moment to actually look back at more moments like that one. Moments I wasn’t able to see or act upon or enjoy. All because of my conditioning.
Moments in my twenties where I felt so deeply connected to a woman in my life that I was confused by it. Moments when I met a new potential female friend and we hung out and I wondered why it felt so much like a date.
Now let me pause and say something that feels important here. This was by no means every female friend I’ve ever had. In fact most of my female friends I’ve never been attracted to. That’s not how it works. Just like I’m not attracted to all the men in my life.
But there were definitely some looking back that felt different. I just never knew what to make of it.
And it mystified me how, after all of these years, I could not see and accept this part of myself?! All because of my conditioning.
As a result I questioned my feelings, my desires, my integrity and my intentions.
I’ve learned more recently that this is a form of resistance for me. This kind of self judgement and internal persecution is my ego’s way of protecting me by keeping me from moving forward towards the unknown. But I did move forward. Because deep down I finally was able to accept that it was true.
But in my moving forward I never took a moment to look back. Western culture often discourages looking back. The messaging is all about: never looking back, eye on the price, keep moving forward.
But sometimes it’s helpful to take a moment to consider the pain you may be holding. The sadness that lives in memories you never had the tools or the space to connect with before.
I’ve been doing this through my tantra practices and it’s been so helpful and liberating.
Sometimes in order to move forward we need to heal and forgive and release that which we are still tethered to. That which is still informing our perceptions and decisions.
So I’ve been doing that lately in regards to my sexuality. And while I feel confused and sad, I also feel grateful and hopeful and excited.
Because now I AM fully connected to it. And I still have plenty of life to live. This was my time. This was my way.
Judging it doesn’t help me move forward but grieving it does. Dancing with the mixture of grief and gratitude. Acceptance and trust. And moving forward with the understanding that there may still be more to acknowledge, heal and process.
This is healing. In all its layers. In all it’s glory.