... how deeply you're connected to my soul

This is a song I love more than words can say, and that continues to bring tears to my eyes and goosebumps to my arms. The first time I heard it, in fantastic Anique's workshop during the 2006 Goddess Conference in Glastonbury, UK, it started a very deep healing process. I have since heard it performed by Anique and Julie Felix (whose version is probably my favourite), sung it alone and with friends and Sisters in group, circle and ceremony, and witnessed the impact it has on people. I sing it whenever I need to feel the Love, whenever I feel low and unworthy, and I aim to spread it as widely as I can.

Lyrics: Libby Roderick.

Turned inside out

I'm so tired and exhausted that it feels like every nerve is raw, every emotion too close to the surface; almost like having been turned inside out. For almost a week now I've felt like I'm having the worst PMT (without a period), and I feel so weepy it's crazy. My circle sisters and lovelies know just how not weepy I am, but not now. I could almost burst into tears for no reason at all - or for any reason. This is not like me. It's not bad though, just unfamiliar.

It may just be a Very Good Thing that I've finally dived deep into the sea of emotions, gently bobbing on its waves and feeling the strong, currents in its depths, that so exatly mirror my own emotions. I've surely taken my time to go with Domnu, but here I am, Lady. Perhaps I should revisit the place She brought me to in that meditation in Chalice Well two years ago; the space that echoed with the energy of the Caer Sidi, a cavelike space outside of time and place which appears to be at the centre of all dimensions and from which I will be able to move freely between them. Perhaps this is just another nudge from the Lady that it is about time I come back and get to work.

Still, the feeling of having suddenly been turned inside out and wearing my emotions without protective walls, is not entirely pleasant; and yes, what a challenge!

Irrational feelings or not?

So I found out earlier this week that my latest X, who dumped me without a reason I could understand (and apparently just as surprisingly to the number of friends who have asked me why, since they didn't understand), is now in a relationship again. It bugs me, and I'm not sure why. I don't like not knowing why.

This X was someone I liked being with - or rather liked having fun with - but never the big love. Actually, not love at all. So from that perspective it was no surprise that it didn't last, and it served the important purpose of opening my eyes for the fact that I don't really fancy men at all; ie that I can stop kidding myself that I'm bisexual.
I'm not saying "good riddance", like some friends did, because he's a good guy and a really good Dom, but just nothing more than that for me. And still... being dumped hurt like hell, and I'd rather be the one to move on first, after any relationship. Which I never am.

I'm trying to figure out why I'm feeling this conflicted - I don't want him but I don't want him to want anyone else, sort of thing - and so far, I've come up with this:

Being dumped hurts because it immediately takes me back into once again being rejected, found not good enough, not lovable. (I know that's probably not how it is in reality, but that's how it feels, and feelings are never true or untrue, good or bad, they just are.) Will I never fall in love? Will I never be loved? Am I unlovable? So far, all evidence unfortunately seems to point in that direction, so there's really no surprise the thought springs to mind.
I think I am lovable; I know I am. Or should be, for the right person(s). So maybe I just haven't met that Big Love, who will love me and whom I'll love back. But inside of me, there is still that little vulnerable girl who's never been loved, who still doubts that she is good enough since no-one seems to really want her or love her. And she hurts like hell every time she's rejected.

I also suppose I have this desire that any man who's been in a relationship with me, and who dumps me, shall never be able to appreciate another woman in the same way. I know, it is childish and foolish and perhaps a bit possessive, but I think that it's also quite a common reaction. If they've liked me, and been allowed to enjoy me, of course I don't take too kindly to being discarded like an old pair of boots. May their testicles shrivel up and rot, may their physical fun give them no more pleasure sort of thing. No, there's no curse involved, just a bit of a woman scorned. And it usually passes after a while. But I really do think that he should never desire another woman like he desired me, and never be able to enjoy physical pleasures in the same way. Which is of course exactly the truth, because it is never the same with anyone else.

I wish my Xes the best of luck and I want them to be happy - but I want to be happy too! And to know that they move on and are (hopefully) happy only highlights the fact that I'm single, rejected, scorned and not happy about it.

Breaking the box - or just refusing it?

There are times when I am struck with how "alternative" I apparently am. Not in my own eyes, nor in those of my closer friends, but in the eyes of "normal people". And I wonder why. Because in all honesty, I really don't think I'm very different at all. But it may be that I come across as a fairly normal person, which makes people assume that I am, and when they realise that I don't fit in the neat little box they made for me, they are confused. And all too often these "people" are the kind who can't accept the things they don't understand and just shut up, so they have to comment their surprise. (Which is another thing I don't get; why some people have to voice every single thought and opinion they seem to have?)

I believe in trying to accept the things I don't understand, and most life choices I don't like, and I absolutely believe in not having to comment them. There are of course exceptions to what I can accept; I will never accept that people choose to harm themselves or lead destructive and self-deprecating life styles, I will never accept intolerance, paedophilia, abuse of animals, women and children, chauvinism, bullying, and fundamentalism, and I have no problem voicing those opinions, which I don't see as a problem, either. But this thing of seemingly having to speak every single thought out loud, no matter how irrelevant and negative it may be, that is something I don't understand. Usually, I just refuse to react to it.

I like breaking people's boxes, I like messing with their preconceived notions of normality and their judgements of me. I like when they have to reconsider and - hopefully - realise that there is more to life than they may have thought. But at times, I am reminded of how different I seem to be.

I'm not normal, and shy away from normality in the sense of neat little boxes and labels, but the things that feel natural and normal to my identity, can be box-breakers for others.

But in what way?
I'm a Goddess follower, I am in Her service as Her Priestess (which is not the formal title of the Christian church, but more a term for my commitment to Her - in lack of a better word); but I don't really relate to the term Pagan.

I love body art - especially tattoos and piercings - and see them as a means of self-expression. This may not be uncommon anymore, but I apparently don't seem like "the type". Guess what? I am. There are more patterns on my body that have yet to rise to the surface and be captured in ink by great artists...

I'm into sex/playing that may seem kinky and perverted to others - BDSM, dominance/submission - have found that immensely empowering and rested gently in surrendering control while still keeping the ultimate control of the situation. (If any Dom doesn't respect a stop word, it's not BDSM any more, but abuse and rape.) It is something that resonates with me on a deep level, and that feels very true. But many normal people frown upon it and would never admit the kinky stuff that goes on in their vanilla bedrooms.

I'm not heterosexual, and haven't been since before puberty. For the longest time I defined myself as bisexual, but with the years I've come to realise that it is not an accurate label. Even though I may play with men, do sessions with them, I am not attracted to them. Sex with a man has always left me feeling unsatisfied, even though the men in question have (too) often pointed out how wonderful it is. I guess there's some spirit work involved, channeling the Divine through the mind/body connection of sex, but to me that actually feels more like work than the pleasurable rapture and passion that sex should be.
So last week I took the plunge and decided that it was time to stop denying the obvious: I'm gay, not bi. The change is purely semantic in nature, but that little change of a prefix is a huge one to many people. For me, it's just stating the obvious and I'm really quite surprised that I didn't see this more clearly sooner. Rhiannon did point me in that direction more than two years ago, and only a week and a half ago, when relating Her message to a couple of friends, did I finally hear what She had been saying. There is more to be said in that matter, but in time.

So as for boxes, I'm not a fan of them. I don't like limitations to who I am; I spent far too many years building a prison for myself to ever let that happen again. I am free now, and I will not let anyone tell me how I should be or that what I do or am is wrong.

Addendum, July 13: A friend drew my attention to how I apparently stand out a bit among normal people because of the way I dress and the music I like as well... But is that really relevant? Music and dress style seem to be areas in which it is accepted to deviate, because then people can usually see what subculture you belong to. Usually, not always.