Touch Starved?

Cuddling Kittens with words "Animals have it Down"


Heads up … this is not my usual peaceful and calm offering. And yet, it is what showed up this morning – all I can think of is that perhaps there is a nugget that will offer relief to someone here? I never know … I simply offer.

I just had a big giant rant – a big giant screaming beating on my bed with the broken broom handle kind of rant  that if I would stay with instead of letting myself be freaked out by the intensity of it might lead me somewhere … and that is the very thing that seems to be tripping me up right now – that if you would just do it a hair differently you could have such amazing results! What if the way that I did it and the time that I gave to it which wasn’t very long was perfect for this moment? Perfect! For this moment!

I am tired of striving. Bone deep weary!

Ahhhh and I hear the voice of the Inner Beloved, Source Energy  bubbling up from within “Then stop. Stop the striving!” I laugh.

For the most part, I think I have this striving thing mastered, as in I don’t do it.

And here I am again. Weary to the bone with striving to be aligned with mySelf and finding all manner of rules I’ve adopted about how that “should” look.

Could I just shut down the dissenting voices? Long enough to get a handle on consistently feeling really really good with no struggle involved?

And my beautiful Inner Being says this:

Oh my word, sweetie,  let go of the struggle. Just let go of the struggle, mama. Let go of the struggle, honey.

Loosen your grip just a hair – You don’t have to drop it. Simply loosen the grip on it. It will drop when it drops.

If you feel like ranting and screaming and beating on your bed, then do it for as long as it feels good to you! Do it and notice what comes up next and what comes up next. There is no rigidly fixed way of doing anything. There is you following your inspiration in the moment.  The inspiration in the moment was beating your bed and screaming obscenities about your life.

No judgment here.

As soon as I yell “I hate my life! I HATE my life!!” I know that it’s not true. Not even close.

In fact, as soon as I vent, I hear the words and am silenced by the immediate “That’s not true! That is simply not true!” that arises from within.

I no longer have the “luxury” of bemoaning my situation and feeling better having done it. I (sometimes) wish I still did … and the bemoaning … the steady participation in venting in one form or another is what contributed to this momentum.

I’m in an intermittent (and long)  moment of deep frustration with the persistent sensation of loneliness in my chest, particularly palpable right now. Sometimes the sensation in my chest arrives before I can stop it … I wake up with it.  Sometimes I go for a couple months without it.

It is particularly strong in my awareness right now.

In a month it will have been a year since my LA love was here for the first time in six years. In fact a year ago yesterday, he left with promises to see me again and I know eventually he will. I know that with certainty. We’ve known each other over twelve years and have cultivated a sweeter, deepening  connection over the past 11 months.  Most days it’s worth it.  And, sometimes? If I am honest with myself, sometimes I wonder.

Sometimes, I berate myself for being so blessed loyal. I’ve had at least one opportunity to play with with someone in person, but he wasn’t my LA Love and I have somehow convinced myself that I don’t want any other  male genitals inside of me  – crazy? I don’t know. I simply  have zero desire for that.

So really? In truth I’m berating myself honoring the body Knowing, Pussy’s Knowing of what she does and does not want.

The truth of the matter is that I’m touch starved … not orgasm starved … I give myself that pleasure regularly, with a sweet sense of love honor and cherish that is called for in relationship with my body.

And, oh my goddess!!  I miss being touched and physically loved by another. My LA love knows how to touch me like no other that I’ve known. I simply can’t give myself a big bear hug, or snuggle up with the warmth of my own body pressing against me. I miss that. I miss that fiercely!

I have work arounds – I sleep with pillows, lots of them and when they don’t cut it I will come out on the couch and press my back against the back of the couch. It’s as close as I can come to the sensation of being held and supported that my body seems to Crave in that moment. Sometimes that alone will put me right to sleep.

I could (and will) learn to allow myself to be a hot mess and participate in the next Snuggle Dance in Eugene. It scares me.  A lot. I tell myself that I’ll “break down” (why do we call the perfectly natural release mechanism we know as crying “break down”?) and never stop crying. Then I’ll be the hot mess in the midst of blissful snugglers.

Maybe I will release into tears. Maybe, maybe I won’t.

Maybe I’ll stop telling myself that story, play with letting it all be ok, play with reveling in the contact. I can do that.

Once you Know something about the nature of Reality, you cannot unknow it.