The Art Of Receiving
As long as I can remember I have this feeling of guilt stuck in my throat, cropped blocked in my stomach. And apparently stuck in my cervix.
I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry for being too late, I am sorry for speaking truthfully. I am sorry for the blame I put on you, I am sorry for all the trouble and sleepless nights I caused my parents. I am sorry for all the money they spend on me. I am sorry for being here. I am sorry for being alive. I do not deserve this. I am not worthy.
This would resemble a short summary of my mind, all the way through my puberty.
I was told to stop apologizing. In which I heard the failure and the failure hurt, so I again apologized. Which I knew was wrong. But that was all I knew.
It is a combination of fear of failure, fear of not being enough, fear of being too much, which expresses itself in a blockage built upon guilt.
I find it so hard to receive. A simple compliment. A kind gesture. I believed I was not worthy. I can not receive love. Though to receive love, to be loved is my biggest desire as it is my biggest fear.
I can give love. I can love people, nature, Mother Earth, so full. I can see other women in their full glory, as the goddess they are. I can love a man with whole my heart. But that can never be enough since there is no way back to me. And its loves the natural state to flow, to circulate to give, to take.
I experience this in the big things; in relationships I never got into far enough to even call it that. But also in the small things, receiving a gift, a compliment, accepting the help offered. Asking for help when needed.
And in the something in between. In my sexuality. In my sexual experiences. In man.
I never found the good guys, I always ended up with the bad guys. Accepting this, in the belief I did not deserve better so how would I dear even to expect more. As I would never attract any different until I was able to find respect and love for myself to be able to receive this.
During the sex I was not able to receive, I did not enjoy it. I could never generally open myself up for a man literal speaking. Though that did not stop me. Which caused sexual trauma. Not done by them, but done by myself. Not giving myself the respect, the love to stop when I felt no. Which made the blockage even grow. And when real sexual damage was done by another soul, apart from myself. The gates were closed, locked away, and the key thrown into the waters to only be found hidden in the sand deep down in the bottom of the ocean. Where no human being would ever go.
I was incapable of staying in my body. To stay grounded in connection with myself, with my soul from which I would connect to my partner. My eyes were closed my body cold as ice waiting for it to be over. It did not matter how much desire I was feeling in forehand, how much I wanted him. The moment we got there I was no longer there. I was long gone.
Until one night. Where I experienced a moment of magic under a full moon in a magical place. Where I found the courage to dive into the deep ocean of acceptance and had my first encounter with the wild woman inside of me as she gave me the breath, the strength to swim deeper and deeper as I grabbed the key, got back to the surface climbed the cost where a young man was waiting for me to start the healing. The way he made love to be that night, broke down a small brick in the wall, after which the water started to fall, started to flow as my love for myself, my sexual embracement grow and the goddess inside of me returned back life.
After this I started discovering all the connections with my emotional obstacles, I found in my sexual experiences. I found Layla Martin, who has amazing vlogs, videos, blog items, about how to heal this sexual trauma. Since all emotional, mental issues create an obstacle in your sexual area. She explains ways how to heal, how to be aware. In a playful, spiritual but down to earth, fun and inspiring way! She also has some amazing tips and tricks to keep your sex alive. Go check this out!