It’s been 58 days of writing with the focused intention of feeling and healing my way through my shit and yesterday’s post about J***** was certainly a highlight, it had been 25 years since it happened and I’d never talked or written my way through to the other side. And I can see why a lot of people don’t take this route to healing their trauma, it takes far more time and energy to revisit and feel through what happened; taking pharmaceutical drugs is far more effective if you want to gloss over and superficially heal your stories.
A friend asked me last night how it felt to release it, and I said it felt like I called a piece of my soul back to me, because I did. And I truly believe that’s what’s happening. I’d been leaving fragmented pieces of myself all over my life story and many of those pieces were like live wires that when they got touched they’d send out electrical charge.
Because every sex story is stored in me like a building block coloring and shaping my current relationship with sexual energy. And if I’ve had 20 negative experiences of sexuality and 2 positive ones, that’s a lot of weight those 2 have to pull to keep my current sexual energy high and healthy.
But with writing and sharing these stories, I feel like I’m neutralizing my past, so that my current sex story doesn’t feel like it has to face a mountain every day just to exist in the present.
And how is this work showing up in my present life?
More connection, more inner peace, more outer peace, more love making, more love allowing and just generally more joy. And for someone who’s used to a battle being the default? These new feelings are noticed and appreciated. Yes to that and more please.
And even better, I’m finding that the more I share my stories, the more it’s giving people permission to feel, heal and share their own. And if my own healing and the permission for others to heal is what comes out of this exploration of writing to heal, it doesn’t get much better than that.
Onward to tomorrow.