I just finished my first 5-day training week in quite awhile.  Even though the mileage wasn’t terribly  high, my body aches in an “ooh, it hurts so good” way.  My food and weight are still in a funk, but at least my heart, lungs, legs and spirit are on the right track.

I’ve been struggling for months now to give a voice to the stories I’m living.  It’s not uncommon for me to sit for an hour or more with a blank computer screen on my lap, trying to find words to express myself and my experiences.  I can only write, “I’m so fucking happy,” so many times before it gets old and loses its meaning.

But I am – fucking happy.

And it’s so very consistent and so very intense… and so very – wonderful.  I’ve stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop, mostly, and I’ve snuggled into the bliss and made myself comfortable.  I like it here, and I never want to leave.

Maybe one day I’ll look back at this period of my life and label it differently, but if I had to pick a description now, I would call it my “opening up” period.  Not to minimize the survival skills it took to get here, having a loving, safe space where all of my parts and personalities feel comfortable to show themselves (even if some are a bit shy) creates the perfect magic for me to transform into the Cinderella I always wanted to be.  I’m starting to remember who I was before I went into hiding years ago out of fear and distrust of the world around me.

And of course a very big part of this huge puzzle for me is my sexuality and how that fits in with the whole Cinderella thing.  Cinderella was sweet and kind and had conversations with cute little mice – she wasn’t a “freak in the bed,” at least as far as we know.  The story books don’t make mention of any sexy lingerie under that ball gown.

I think, that what I thought I knew about sex before now, was just a story – a show.  I was an actress, playing the part of what I thought sexy should be.  I can flirt.  I can seduce.  I can shake my half-naked ass in front of 90,000 people in a football stadium.

But what if all of those things my church leaders tried to tell me about sex were true?  What if there is a much deeper experience to be had than simply a physical gratification (even if you are doing it with someone you love)?  What if sex, in it’s most primal state, can be a divine manifestation of Love at the trinity level (body, mind, and spirit)?

Having sex with someone you love can still just be grinding genitals if you are not completely open.  If you are hiding parts of yourself or you’re feeling any fear, it’s impossible to open up to Love.  So maybe it’s a slight step up from a vibrator, and I think a lot of people are satisfied with that.

Love changes the experience.  Not the starry-eyed kind of love that requires a partner to feel good, but the real kind, that comes from a place deep down inside of yourself.  And when you find the perfect partner who can help you strip away your fears and allow you to be boldly, completely yourself while he is completely himself – boom!  Fireworks.

And that, that is the kind of sex I want to have.  Nothing less than that.

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