Art of living!


No one warned me how often I’d remember his face, even years after it happened.

His shaking thighs were encircled by his hands and the tightness of his fingers. My throat is constricting and my mouth is dry. Years later, anytime someone touches me, a part of me feels it’s the Devil, trying to consume me in some filthy way.

Nobody warned me about how difficult it is to negotiate intimacy when I have trauma weighing down on my chest like the Devil on my shoulder.

No one prepared me for the experience of looking in the mirror and seeing my body as a cathedral.

What a strong desire I have to be decent, holy, and open. I desperately want to believe that if I wait long enough and pray hard enough, someone will be punished for their misdeeds.

I feel there is a distinction between sex therapy and utilising sex as a therapeutic tool, but whatever the case may be, I’m still learning how to recover. I’m still figuring out how to accept the reality that sobbing after sex isn’t the most attractive thing I’ve ever done, but that’s good, and allowing someone in is a coping mechanism, which is also OK.

All I can think about when someone fresh comes along and touches me where it happened is bodywork, a therapeutic method for recovery and unprocessed trauma. The mind and body are linked: our brain recalls memories we wish to forget while forgetting facts we need to know in order to recover.

Some days are more challenging than others. I feel myself sobbing uncontrollably–body trembling, face hurting, tears flowing down my cheeks. I can’t stop thinking about sex’s anguish, which is both a heavy load and a coping mechanism.

I understand how difficult it is to get back on your feet.
I understand that each day is a new opportunity to recover.
I know that one day I will no longer feel this way.

Every day, I’m learning to be gentler with my body while yet pushing it beyond its limits. I’m working on forgiving myself for crying so much. I’m allowing myself to feel what I’m feeling. I’m learning to be at ease in my own skin when I’m in someone else’s. I have to remind myself that you’re OK. You are secure. Trauma is a difficult weight to bear. You’re on the mend.

Next blog will be out soon.
Please share this blog, like it and comment what you feel about it!

Desai Thoughts MEdia.

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