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Self love & emotional vulnerability lessons in strange places..
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<<First Name>> have you ever felt scared & excited at the same time?

I wanted to share a story I wrote about a personal experience, that's a bit sexy and challenged me at the same time.  If you want to check in on the Queer Tarot project you can scroll to the bottom for the link to the latest cards. 

Normally I don't share an entire post via email, but this was a huge "Tower- break-down to break-through" of vulnerability, it feels empowering to share it.

I wanted to go, but $80 was too much.  She was coming I thought it would be wonderful to see her again… I said

“I’ll be yours for the night if you have a plus one.”  It was too late, I’d said it and she’d said yes.  I was going and I was quite excited.

A bold move on my part, such bolshy confidence I hadn’t felt in such a long time, metered with the overthinking after thought of “was that rude, what if she says yes, what does that involve, what have I signed up for?!” It was too late, I’d said it and she’d said yes.  I was going and I was quite excited.  I knew one of my best friends would be there if I needed so I knew I’d be safe, but the adventure of the unknown was intoxicating.  I’d not been out on a wild unknown limb in a while, and certainly hadn’t let anyone any near my body.  The day grew closer and she sent me a picture of a pony bridle and bit, and asked if I was into pony play. My mind raced, I didn’t know what that would entail for her.. I’d participated in a few other play scenarios before mind you, with less industrial equipment shall we say.  Unicorns are ponies I thought, I love those rainbow tails you can get, I jumped online and put one on a wishlist, thinking the always come with such wee plugs, maybe that’s so it’s more comfortable to wear over a longer period of time.  

Anyway back to the story.  The day arrived and I’d cried three times before it was near time to get there.  I’d woken up feeling low, tired and lonely… tears flowed in the shower as I pulled myself together to face the day, dance practice was next.  I was looking forward to this, a blat of exercise to shake up the adrenaline and shift the mood so I’d be bouncy and ready to dance later.  Queue a wonderful lesson, on preparing for dance competitions by being kind to your inner child – and tears.  I love this work and have much to say to my inner child and much to re-write.  Shaking that off I was on to the next thing. I don’t do busy days by halves I thought, and at least it was a comedy show, laughs and light heartedness that I love to shift the mood so I’d be bounce and ready to dance later.  The universe really had other plans for my day.  Hannah Gadsby was doing her retirement show “Nannette”.  She’s an amazing woman, and boy did she share her story and the ringer she’s been put through.  Powerfully she announced she’s retiring. Boldly exposing how so much comedy is based around self deprecating, self humiliating and reinforces one’s own attachment to emotional repression, an inability to communicate or ask for help when hurt, frustrated or angry.

That much “humour” is mocking someone, something or calling oneself terrible things in order to garner a laugh from an audience.  She was standing up for herself, her self worth and refusing make herself the brunt of the joke anymore.  

Humour is amazing but boy does it conceal or shut down emotional openness and deflect from a world of hurt or acute fear of vulnerability. Queue more tears, me and the rest of the entire theatre.

This isn’t the sexy story you thought you’d be reading but it has a happy ending I promise.

I was shaken, the universe had wanted to get a point across to me, and I was listening.  I was fragile but being kind to myself again.  Sitting in my vulnerability, I thought “I guess I’m ready for a dance now”. This was not the mood shift or energy I had been expecting.  The club was dark, mirror ball covered dangly light installations decorated the ceiling and rainbow flashes danced about the walls and across the faces of all the shadowy people in the venue.  I was late, they’d all been there for a few hours, but I crept in ready to be swallowed by a crowd of faceless bodies, rolling to the waves of the bass as it thumped from the speakers. I wiggled my way to the midst of the madness, my skin taking in the temperature difference from outside to the damp warmth inside. And there she was.  

Legs crossed in lotus position, arms out beside her, oosing the power of the goddess to the very tips of her long tallon’d fingers. She was floating a good metre off the floor, a spider web of ropes woven all around her in a beautifully symmetrical arch that made her look like she was floating on a throne.

She didn’t move, her limbs hugged tight by beautiful purple bonds, “it is her favourite colour”, I thought. Her head masked in glossy black latex, like a bald cap that came all the way over to mysteriously hide her eyes, ending elegantly just above her nose, highlighting her cheekbones.  The mask sported a glossy black latex halo, a solid dark shiny disk that framed her head, with silken tassels hanging down past each ear. This was a powerful goddess of the night.  READ THE MIDDLE BIT HERE

STORY TOO LONG TO POST IN FULL
My body is excited by the unfamiliarity of it, yet not surprised that this beautiful collision of sexual energy has culminated in a beautiful puddle of wonderful people.  We all writhe around in pleasure, me on my wee crate and them on and around the suspended tire ropes, with plenty to grip as our legs turn to jelly. Someone, maybe the rope master, I don’t remember – grips, pinches and roughly twists and squeezes my nipples as the tassels had come unstuck from my sweaty skin.  

Fingernails scratch my skin.  The tattoos on my back are dancing with sensations raised above my skin like icing on a cake.

I remember how much I love roughness, that fine line between pleasure /pain and being thrown around, and my body sighs in pleasure. Willing to take risks, willing to adventure to push my boundaries and grow. Learning my limits by testing them. Taking my philosophy on emotional intimacy and connection and put it to the practical test. Living life to the fullest, putting intellectual beliefs to the front of my lived experience and holding space for myself and where my mental headspace was at. My body, glowing, glistening with dampness, the taste of my pleasure on my lips. My limbs shaking, overwhelmed and on sensation overload – torn between wanting more and not being comfortable all at the same time, outside of the four walls of my temple boudoir.

I was in my power, open and vulnerable, willing to share intimacy and connection.

Rewriting rejection with scratch marks, practicing self love with welts across my skin and positively reframing ‘neediness’ with raised red lines over my body.  That desire for affection, craving intimacy and wanting the comfort of physical touch are not weaknesses, and nor should I be ashamed of my desires and emotive affections.

I am not broken, I am just rediscovering my sparkle – she is wonderful, but tonight I reclaimed that devilish part of me and fell in love with myself again.

It was the card for me, because allot of my work in LGBTIQA disability rights is at the intersections of those two things.  [To my younger self] I would say: “You will get proud, that you will love those parts of yourself, that you think you could ever feel proud of, or that someone would ever love.” 

I never really heard anyone saying that to me as a young queer disabled person. I hope my voice can cut through all the negative messages that someone might be hearing about who they are.

Copyright © 2017 The Rockwell Project, All rights reserved.


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