Reflection: My Driving Force

I had a conversation recently with someone during which I was asked what motivates or drives me. I appreciated that question because it prompted me to pause and ponder what I truly value in life. It reminds me a little bit of Simon Sinek’s message to “find your why.”

What drives me . . . I think if I had to boil everything down to the most concentrated essence I like to think it’s love. For myself, for the world, for the Divine. I didn’t always used to feel that way, but as I’ve grown a a person, I’ve realized life is too precious and rich to spend it being angry or despondent. Not that those things are wrong, but I don’t need to be motivated by them. And life seems much fuller this way.

It’s easy for me to forget that connection with Divine love is my lifeline, but as long as I am tapping into those abundant stores of love, I will be okay.

When Self Awareness Is Really Rumination

Many have complimented me for my self awareness, my ability to understand my personal growth challenges and identify my weaknesses. However, what many do not understand is that not all of my musings are a result of self awareness, but rather rumination.

Like a cow chewing its cud, I regurgitate my thoughts and turn them over and over in my head. Unlike a cow, I can never seem to fully digest them. They keep coming back up to haunt me. While I have done this for almost as long as I can remember, some periods of time are worse than others. My obsessing over various topics has kept me awake at night, trapped me in bed in the morning, and made me late or absent to scheduled engagements. Sometimes I can distract myself long enough to be productive; sometimes I can’t.

In trying to dig to the root of my struggle, I think I may have begun doing this as a self-soothing tactic to remedy my loneliness. I know that my thoughts are not logical, so instead of communicating them to others, I allow them full reign in my head. I don’t really think of it as anxiety as much as a means of comfort, much like a child sucking on her thumb.

I have tried to process these thoughts with people I am close to, but what I have discovered is I reason them away. I may acknowledge that they are illogical feelings, and almost apologize for them to the people I talk to. In recent reflection, I realized I still talk to my friends about the same thoughts and feelings I was having a year ago. The obsession is relentless.

So what do I do with all that? I have tried reasoning my feelings away, because I am a huge fan of being a person of reason, but there is no reasoning with feelings, no matter how convincing the argument. I think what I crave more than anything is for someone to enter into the worry with me, to cry with me before helping to bring me out of it. To help me realize that my feelings, however illogical, are valid.

Sacred and Sexy

When I think of the word sacred, my mind tends to shoot directly to those of religious status. Regardless of your spiritual beliefs, perhaps you would agree that those whom you see dressed in religious garb elicit a different response from you than that of your interactions with friends. I see a woman with her head covered or a man with a priest’s collar and I interact with them differently than I would with the average joe. Not in a discriminatory way, but such that I try to be respectful of their traditions, whatever they may be.

On the other hand, many religious organizations in Western culture have become much more casual in the last century, even in the last decade. When I was a little girl, I saw lots of people dressing up to go to church on Sundays. Now, churches encourage people to wear jeans and t-shirts, promoting a “come as you are” vibe.

Neither of these are necessarily bad. Because how one dresses is a very concrete idea, it seems convenient to draw on that example of how the idea of sacredness has changed in our culture. Of course one can receive and give and participate in sacred experiences regardless of what he or she is wearing. I am not trying to bash people based on their clothing choices.

What I am trying to say is that Western culture’s idea of sacredness has dramatically diminished. Men used to take off their hats in the presence of a woman. Women used to avoid revealing their knees in public. While I am glad dress codes have become much more relaxed, what does the word sacred even mean anymore?

I have thought about joining a nudist community because I love the human body, and I love my body. But at the same time, I believe the human body is sacred, so I hesitate to reveal my entire body to the general public.

I believe sex can be a sacred act in the sense that it is one of the most intimate expressions of love one can give another.

I believe health is sacred because it is as we are pursuing our own personal wellness that we can be the most giving and helpful to others.

I believe we can be sacred and sexy at the same time. I’m just not completely sure how yet.

What Physical Loneliness Looks Like

In my opinion, touch is one of the most intimate ways to express love to another. Of course, there are many dimensions and expressions of love, on emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and sexual levels. But at this stage of my life, touch is my favorite.

The only way to achieve physical intimacy as an adult is within the boundaries of a romantic relationship, or at least the simulation of one. No wonder so many people rush into unwise unions; how else are they supposed to feel the loving touch of another human being? Why can we not all love more overtly, without reserving such love for romance? Not that everyone should have sex with each other, but surely cuddling, kissing, hugging would be a way to build and strengthen bonds with one another as humans. To increase intimacy among mankind. With loneliness being a universal struggle, I believe all of us have a need to be nurtured in some way.

I once sat behind a couple at a public gathering, watching them interact with each other. She leaned on him, he scratched her back. Over, and over. Not just a quick pat, but a slow rubbing up and down to display affection. My blood boiled and fueled the tears of yearning hiding in my eyes. I don’t know what it’s like for someone to rub my back like that. But I want to.

Perhaps some would say I am desperate to be in a relationship. I do not altogether disagree with such allegations, nor do I fully agree either. I have fared quite well without a boyfriend, and do not believe I need one. However, what I do crave is physical contact. Not sex, necessarily, but some form of intimacy with other humans that conversation simply does not satisfy. I do not want to wait my entire life to seclude myself with one person; I want to make everyone feel loved. And it seems that reserving love for one person is a waste of the human heart.

When pondering “couple hood,” my mind immediately wanders to marriage. I think someday I do want to marry, but I have conflicting thoughts about it. Sometimes I think I can love others better by remaining single. But in a way I wish I could have sex with everyone. I know what it’s like to feel alone, isolated, desperate, helpless. And I don’t want other people to have to feel the way I have. Even if it’s just momentary relief, I want to give someone what has not been given me. I want to wrap my arms around them and love them, pretending that for once, everything is going to be okay. For them to experience my body and for me to experience theirs, to escape the world for a little while and go somewhere else. I want everyone to be able to feel that because the world is a broken place. I am broken. And I want to help other people put their pieces back together.

A Phrase That Bothers Me

Since coming to the South, one phrase I have heard repeatedly is “love on.” “We’re just going to love on each other.” Is it me, or does that sound weird?

Why can’t we say “love each other”? The word love can be used to imply action, and doing something “on” someone else sounds rather gross to me. I understand that people say it with the best of intentions, and I appreciate that. However, I don’t want to be loved on; I want to be loved.

I could be reading too much into it, but it is something I have thought strange.

Juliet’s Rant

I miss him terribly, but even still
I doubt the truth behind my sentiments.
I hesitate to call it love if all
it is is pure infatuation that
is typical of young hormonal girls.
I do not trust myself to use the term
of love accurately because I have
such difficulty understanding its
pure definition. I was taught that love
is not a feeling; it is sacrifice.
I think of love as a decision to
commit, and lust being the feelings that
come after. I come up with mental lists
of things I’d do for him as proof of my
commitment, for my feelings do not make
for solid evidence of love. That’s why
I say I’d make him dinner or massage
his feet, or take care of him when he’s sick,
because I’m desperately trying to prove
these feelings are not senseless whims, although
that’s what I am convinced they are. I do
not trust emotions and I do not view them
as highly as I should, because they don’t
seem like good reasons to do anything.
Because I do not trust emotions, I
have found myself looking for concrete ways
to show affection, or whatever keeps
me bound to him. The problem is, I’m stuck
Because I hardly ever see him and
I rarely talk to him, and that prevents
my concrete acts done in the name of love.
These thoughts therefore swirl in my head, and I
am left to wonder if I truly love,
or if I only think I do because
it’s all infatuated fantasy.

I wonder why it matters. If I spent
some time with him, it wouldn’t for I’d be
too busy doting on him. But I don’t
spend time with him, and so I find myself
Desiring to tell others I love him,
although I fear I’d sound quite immature –
a girl who knows not what she talks about.
And so I guess the root of all this is
I am concerned what others think of me.
However, on the other hand, what’s more
is that I care about my use of words.
I want to speak correctly for I’d hate
to say something that I don’t truly mean.

Sex, Fantasy, and Fifty Shades

Lately I’ve seen a lot of hype about the film rendition of Fifty Shades of Grey across the internet. Mostly it’s been a lot of protesting about how the story promotes sexual abuse and dominance. Personally I’m not really interested in the books or the movie, so my critique of the story would be limited at best. But I’m not here to write a critique – there are plenty already out there. I’m here to tell you some of my thoughts based on what I’ve observed about this latest uproar.

My concern lies in the conversations I read about how it’s a shame that young people today are indulging in stories like these and will not have a firm understanding of what true love or a satisfying sex life looks like. Before I continue, let me say that in no way do I condone sexual abuse, and I certainly hope that this post doesn’t come across that way. What I am saying is that we shouldn’t wait for stories like Fifty Shades to go viral before we start talking about how sex should be.

Upon looking up the author, I found a quote of hers that said that this story was essentially her sexual fantasies, which, in my opinion, puts a different perspective on how I view the story. While a woman may not publicly admit it, I think there exists in many women’s minds fantasies that are not intended to be played out in real life, be they sex with a stranger, being forcefully tied down, etc. Thoughts and emotions that allow the person to feel as though they’re not completely in control (while in reality they still are) help to increase the tension of the moment, making it more exciting and therefore easier to climax. When you put those fantasies on a screen, however, they turn into something seen as dominating and abusive, because it’s not meant to make sense in real life (hence why it’s a fantasy).

For those of you who don’t want your children to see this movie because you want to explain to them how beautiful true love and healthy sex is, that’s great. The problem is, not everyone wants to have that conversation, especially, I find, those of the more conservative mindsets. If you can’t even say the word sex without giggling or blushing, you’re probably not the first person I’m going to go to for advice in the matter. That’s why the majority of my sex ed came from Wikipedia, Urban Dictionary, and Game of Thrones. Google didn’t blush. It didn’t pause in an awkward silence thinking, “oh crap, I have to have this conversation with her.” It simply gave me the answers I was looking for and then some. And yes, some people did offer to talk about any questions I had. But I was so ignorant of my own body that I didn’t even know what questions to ask.

Maybe you giggle or smile because you have a great sex life. Maybe you’re remembering the night you had with your partner last week. But I can’t tell what you’re thinking. All I read is a change in your demeanor, which then makes me uncomfortable and feel that maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

For those of you who wonder why anyone would want to sit through a movie like that in a dark theatre surrounded by people, maybe it’s because it feels like a safe place. Maybe there are a lot of confused or frustrated young people trying to understand their bodies and biological functions, but can’t find the answers they need because their elders are too embarrassed to talk about it. Or if they aren’t, the conversation is weighted with fear that somebody is going to fuck somebody into abomination. And so in a way it almost makes sense to me to want to escape to the theatre where I don’t have to be embarrassed for wondering about my body and maybe less-than-traditional ways of having sex.

When It’s Legit

Sometimes I wish that honeymoon stage of relationships didn’t exist. Sure, it’s cute, it’s fun, it’s an emotional high, with all the hand-holding, cuddling, kissing. But I sometimes wish that stage wasn’t there because too many people mistake that for true love. And when that stage passes, the love must be gone too.

They’re wrong.

Legit love doesn’t set in until the newness wears off. Because it’s that love that gets you through every one of those stupid arguments when you lose your temper. It’s that love that gets you through grieving the death of a friend. Love can be messy, complicated, and downright unattractive at times. But that’s what makes it what it is.

A pastor I once knew said this: “You can fall in love, you can fall out of love; but true love is a walk, not a fall.”