Part 2..sort of, and the Way We Villain-ize

Giving breath to your pain by acknowledging your victim, then shifting that story.

Dear Reader,

My last post started off with this intro, and I felt myself writing in two different directions and this post is the completion of the ‘other’ direction. I’d love to hear your own experience, or insights. Always, so much love your way!

Photo by Alex Bell on Unsplash

Part 2, sort of.

I pulled into his gravel driveway, and his screen door opened as he trotted down his front patio stairs, loosening the velcro on his left sleeve from his military uniform. His head shaved, he wore a small smile as he greeted me with a hug.

His energy felt soft, but excited to see me, as I was him, and this third-ish date everything felt possible, all the newness felt so good.

This is the picture I often see when I think about him. A picture he has no idea was engrained into my memory of him, or us. Along with this imprinted memory are the feelings of it all in the beginning, and how easily I can travel back to that, maybe 2 minute moment, so viscerally.

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The last few years, since the explosion with my daughters dad, where I had to get really sober on the realities of my life, safety of my life, and hers, I’ve really assessed my wounds with the masculine.

I remember days after being officially single in 2021, I was in a hot yoga class and an older well chiseled man was there friendly chatting me up. After class I felt him energetically moving into my field. I knew he was going to start engaging me more than I was I was ready for, and the old me, or my ego, who would have appreciated the attention. However, those versions of me were no longer allowed to be at the wheel of my life. So, I dashed out so fast and I told myself, “I will not repeat patterns from my past,” and that was my commitment to almost 2 years of conscious celibacy, solo journeying, deep painful feeling and healing, and sexual reclamation for ME.

Through my journey I’ve reached such deep appreciation for the masculine, and the ways in which I’ve projected far too much onto them, as my little girl within wanted so bad to close the loops her Dad (I rarely call him a father,) left gaping open, bleeding, just needing…

love.

So, though the man trotting down his porch stairs as I walked up his gravel drive way to greet him with my heart, sadly didn’t last. The last few years I’ve really been honest in looking at all the ways in which I used to make men the villain. I no longer can… or maybe it’s that I won’t. Although, some men have been monsters to me… (yes, women can be too) we can still opt out of victim status, while simultaneously acknowledge when we have been or are a victim. That duality can take a minute to digest.

If you’ve been abused, you are a victim, AND you also can reach a place that you choose not to live in that energy and call your power back. You can honor what happened to you, feel the pain, grief, rage, all of it, and then hold yourself differently. Not from reciting, “I’m not a victim!” in hopes the world around you applauds your words despite the energy underneath you seething with the opposite. Give space to the seething, let that part of you swamp in its victimhood. It’s through that process that you will authentically feel the space of holding yourself, your power, your heart, your body differently than ever before. With more reverence, fierceness, and true self love.