TW: sexual assault, emotional abuse
My relationship with sex has always been one of contention, mostly due to my own naiveté towards having nutritious physically intimate interactions with others. It’s taken me about 13 years to finally sort of, kind of start to “get it right” (in my eyes). As I have unraveled and focused on healing the layers of hurt I’ve accumulated over time, I naturally came to a point where celibacy, or an intentional and voluntary restraint from sexual indulgence, became a focal point in the shifting of my lifestyle. As I dove into my divinity, I was able to create an understanding of, and begin working towards better discernment towards how, with whom and why I was sharing my Self with others.
I lost my virginity the summer of 2008, a few months before my 16th birthday with a “friend” around the same age. In the months leading up to it, we had begun exploring different sexual acts with one another; though, oftentimes, I left feeling uncomfortable because, to make long stories short, there was never really respect for my desires or needs, especially when I was hesitant or wanted to stop. I didn’t have the language or knowledge to talk about my experiences at the time; nor, anyone to genuinely speak to that could inform and hold compassionate space for me. In my world, “no,” held not an ounce of power when spoken from my mouth, despite what any of my girl-friends at the time chastised. Even at home, my socialization at some point had become, “Just do what (he) says so that (he) will stop (being angry, complaining, etc.).” For years, I’d succumb to boys’ licentious requests just so they’d leave me alone, and stop begging and coercing. My mindset at times was also trained to think, “he’ll take it anyway/won’t stop asking, so just do it and get it over with,” especially, to avoid any unsafe expressions of anger and frustration.
I people-pleased to keep the peace, which led to me sacrificing my harmony, sometimes my dignity; and, created and accepted storylines that deceivingly convinced my Self that the way things were occurring was okay. As much as I wanted more for my Self, my esteem as it pertained to this specifically, told me that I was not worthy of being valued for the woman I knew my Self to be.
I’ve spoken briefly in the past about my struggles as a hyper-sexualized child – being 9 the first time an older male called me “sexy.” I was 14 when 19-year-olds at church were explaining to me that I’m mature and age was irrelevant. Male attention, for me, revolved around sex and the way I looked. That’s what I believed they wanted, and what I was good for. Well into my early 20s, seemingly respectable and promising dates would even “joke” that I looked like a live sex-doll. I didn’t know how to build a relationship with the opposite sex on something solid. Even if some sort of friendship did develop, sex was always lingering in the background, and true commitment and love never seemed to be an option that I could obtain.
Yes, I’ve had innumerable partners and was out here YOLOing and getting into sexual shenanigans, though I’ve still had some nice experiences, and of course, sex can feel great, particularly in the moment, but I was often left stagnant – feeling a void or misused. After years of repeated abuse and assaults, I found myself trying to regain and exercise my power within these toxic dynamics, instead of removing myself from them. I adopted a loose acceptance of my lifestyle by attaching myself to a vague idea of sexual liberation and freedom; I attracted peers that wantonly used polygamy as a way to explore options without fear of repercussion (*nothing wrong with that lifestyle, just not for me; and, like anything, it can be used for good or with misguided intentions), and I’d put myself in questionable positions and give my Self a false sense that what was happening to me was my conscious choice that was not centered around the men. Yet, the adoptions of those belief systems, to a certain extent, just didn’t quite fully align with the direction I had always hoped to take my life in. I was always left feeling satisfied but unfulfilled.
Sex can be used to facilitate love, but it is not love. Being able to identify types of attraction (sexual, sensual, platonic, romantic) became necessary in order for me to heal and evolve. I had to objectively look at the connections that were in, or coming into my life. Where I was I trying to force and control a connection to be something that it was not? Can this sexual connection truly be a fruitful romantic partnership? Does this beautiful and platonic relationship need to have an air of sensuality? Sexual intercourse is so powerful that I believe it can easily blur the understanding of the bond that it can create between two people. It is one of, if not the most intimate way to exchange energy.
In the past, I had told myself that I would try to practice celibacy, but it would only be a seed that was planted in my heart and not yet something I was actually willing to abide by. At that time, to me, abstinence meant sexual purity – and I felt extremely far from that, with no way of returning. However, in early 2019, I was at a point in my life where I had the strength and confidence to develop and act upon the restraint of my sexual impulses. I had grown enough in other areas of my life that I could look at my sex life and have the discipline and determination to go after the interactions I knew I deserved to have; not just, essentially, going through the motions to chase hedonisms. It was time to get completely unstuck from these patterns that were not resulting in genuine happiness. True to anything else that had sparked immense change in my life, I hit a point where I said, “No more,” and meant it. I felt too sacred, too special, too healing to give some of my most potent energy to just any and every body as I had done in the past. Still, sex is not the antithesis of spirituality.
Sexual healing is real, especially when the purpose is mutual – there is even slut/hoe/whore feminine archetypes that honor using sex and the body to facilitate raising of the energetic vibrations, in essence, of the world. From a previously distorted perspective, one could over-simplify the exchange of this energy as having “good (genitalia).” Nonetheless, intention for engaging in this act is important because we can (unknowingly) give/receive positive and negative energy from our partner. Every now and then, I’d have subtle knowledge that I could transmute energy through intercourse; but, I was often transmuting others’ pain into joy, and leaving myself depleted. Sex is closely connected to spirituality, particularly through the sacral chakra, which reveals creativity, flow, pleasure, and feelings of being supported, and can aid manifestation. The exchange of energy can also create a cord, or attachment, to our partner and make an impression in our aura. Similar to any imbalanced exchanged, it can leave the giver depleted. The particular type of energy we are discussing is connected to life force energy, and destructive, cyclical relations can be created when one uses another to siphon the feel-goods from another. Side story – I remember having relations with someone who I knew was going through an emotionally difficult time, and I knew every time he called was because he needed his fix to pick him up, and I was the drug of choice at the time. There was one particular night I went over to do my job, and he stopped and admitted he didn’t want to have sex but “(I) make (him) feel so good” about himself. I made him feel like the man he didn’t see himself to be; but, all I saw was the woman I did not want to be.
Energy is currency and I was handing mine out for free, just to temporarily fill a void in myself or another. I was tired of sharing my most vulnerable Self in love, only to choose partners that repeatedly showed me it was in vain to have it reciprocated. I will no longer allow that to be my truth – it will absolutely not be unrequited.
As I healed the lack in my life – the perceived lack of love (for self and otherwise) and worth – and settled deeper into my true beliefs and understandings about sex, energy and relationships, and listened to my intuition, I began to more carefully consider the interactions I participated in. Pouring that love back into myself taught me discipline – I do have a “high” sexual drive, but I felt it irresponsible and immature of me to not be able to tame and regulate my primal, carnal desires. Lust and greed are on the lower end of the vibrational spectrum, like pretty much at the bottom…
Self-love and celibacy allowed me to not derive pleasure and empowerment through another person but first and foremost through myself, to not overindulge in my cravings just because I can (especially if there’s no real outcome that helps lead me to a higher version of my Self), and to better choose the types of experiences I was subjecting my Self to. This practice allowed me to gain more clarity and awareness of the reasons for my attraction to another – is it superficial, or is there something substantial that I can explore? For example, if I go on a date with you, of course I find you physically attractive and/or have some sexual desire, but I can’t allow that to cloud my judgement of character or be a strong undercurrent that guides the reason for the relationship. Being in an intimate relationship with me is a gift that not everyone deserves access to; it can be acknowledged but it doesn’t have to be unwrapped if it will be mishandled.
Sure, I’ve had fun along the way, and I’m by no means advocating for suppression of sexual energy, but merely a slight redirection to how that energy flows and is released. This goes for men as well! This particular journey was not perfect – nothing is – because at two certain points since I began (in December 2019, and July 2020), I did decide to allow the exploration of sexual intimacy with people I was quite familiar with, but it was in no way the basis for the contact. As much as I love sex, I actually don’t miss it, or crave it. Regardless of having urges, I’m not controlled by them, and that is where my personal power lies. I don’t have to wait or plead to be honored; I honor my Self, and despite the premature theories I held about myself, I now know I am immensely worthy of tenderness, respect, and a gosh-darn orgasm.
Sex can be blissful; it can be a profound connection to Spirit, a portal that unlocks a zest for life and inspiration. For me, it is the most vulnerable display of love and can be so, undoubtedly, nurturing. Yet, where there is light there is also dark. I’ve spent my time experiencing the dark side and now I choose to have purposeful, stable, present, safe and mutually gratifying experiences… or none at all.