The Art of Shame

Let’s talk about slut shaming. I am 41 one years old and I believe I am the target victim as much. My accused? There is only one person circling my orbit that has an impact on how I feel about this. My own misconceived ideologies about sex have spun me into a place where I am losing the reality of what real intimacy means. The way I connect with my friends in the outside world is an over abundance of love. I am starved for human touch. For human presence. I wrap my arms around my son like it is the last time I am ever going to see him again. I kiss the top of his head and pray for his safe return. It is nice establishing a deeply rooted bond but my fear is when he grows and his life begins to open what happens to me?

So how can I reach so far from talking about the love that I have for my son and think about being slutty. With the lack of intimacy that comes with my husband, even casual conversation is quickly slipping by the wayside. My libido that is beginning to kick in is constantly battling for attention as I continue to push her to the corner of my mind. I remember the letters that came from my Dad and his new wife right after my son’s birthday. I remember feeling angry that they couldn’t even be bothered to send a card. Of course I am human I opened the letters but that was out of sheer stupidity on my part. I was hoping for words that would encourage a reconciliation but with the absence of love I knew that there was nothing like that to be found. I remember glancing at some of the pages hoping for something when the words jumped out like acid on my skin. In the letters I was being slut shammed for talking about my libido and sex drive. For wanting to have intimacy in my life. The onslaught of negativity that followed made me burn the letters where their ashes still remain in the BBQ. Never take into consideration anybody’s opinion of you that doesn’t have love for you in their heart. They aren’t coming from a place of good intention but with a poisonous venom in their heart.

A part of me believes sex is dirty. Especially because it seems to be the only opinions of those around me. My husband has no drive but somehow I do. After seeing those words I thought that maybe I was bad in some way. That my desire to connect with another being in the most intimate way makes me evil. Factor in the evil that seems to swim around that topic. Yes of course I would love to be in love with the person that I am intimate with but without that connection that lasts against the hands of time I am not certain who it is I am to become. My outpouring of love into  the world is at best nauseatingly sweet.  I don’t mean to be but that hole that is growing inside me is begging to be filled. I am scared without the fuel that is required to flame my heart that eventually she will just die out.

I think that is why I am obsessed with the Pin-Up style. The true Pin-Up was used as an art form to turn up the heat in a rather male dominated profession. I am thinking the use of the calendar girl in army lockers and mechanic shops back in the day. I do so love feeling like a girl wrapped up in thule and lace. My heart is happiest there. I can’t imagine a life without all of that glamour and glitz. Maybe it is time for me to embrace that lil girl that was forced to grow up to fast.  The one who was taken advantage of in her own naivety trying so desperately to fit in. I was not short in being boy crazy because there was nothing I loved more than being able to love. I was the domesticated goddess who would do anything to feel the adoration of my man. I never really got that feeling though of appreciation. Just a wham, bam, thank you ma’am don’t call me I will call you. Only to have the follow up, it’s not you it’s me. And to see them dating somebody the next day. Truth be told I was probably one of the most frigid girl’s till college. I was intimidated by intimacy in my very old school by nature thinking.

So who am I know with zero intimacy other than what I have here in this house. It almost feels like nobody notices me so I have to go even bolder, louder, greater to be heard. It is not so much that I need to be recognized by anybody in particular or to be recognized by the masses. I would just like to have the attention of somebody who thinks that I am kinda rad. That is what is missing from my life. It isn’t about slut shaming because the intimacy I crave will just come naturally. It will mean so much more then just having sex. It will be the connection between beings. So I guess making myself feel any sort of way but good for knowing in my heart what I know is my truth is insanity. The true chains from my own reality is my own limitations that I impose on myself. To title myself before I title is even warranted is the very poison that they hope to spew. Cast enough questionability upon oneself and we will never make it out of the hole we dig for ourselves. Time will always be limited. The time that we have becomes shorter every day. Why run in fear for what you now to be true in order to walk the long way home.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Sex isn’t dirty, but it feels like for those of us who were programmed to believe that it’s impossible to completely erase that notion. I wish you the best of luck ❤ ❤ Enjoy who you are!


    1. Thank you 💙 I am hoping that by accepting myself fully I can truly embrace who I am 💙

      Liked by 1 person

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