It’s 7:08 am but feels like 3 am. I’ve been up for what feels like hours, words cycling in my head in written form. The way they did before I wrote my article about shaving my head. Talking in my head, telling my story but as if someone else was listening. Cycled over and over, until I finally wrote it, and then the obsession stopped and my brain was mine again. I’m feeling that again. I haven’t felt the strong urge to write in months. That urge was strong for awhile and I wrote a lot. Now it’s back and I don’t even know where to begin. The obsessive thoughts going over my life story and my feelings about all of it have been cycling once again, the deep nudge to do something about it, to write it and get it out there, share it. For what reason I don’t know. Maybe my stories will help someone. I’m sure anger a few. But I have learned not to ignore my obsessive thoughts when it comes to expressing myself. Those thoughts are there for a reason and until I express them, the thoughts and ideas cycle over and over, leaving me exhausted and with physical symptoms of someone coming down with the flu. The words are gnawing at me and I’m sitting here writing about how much they are gnawing at me because I don’t know where the hell to start.
The thoughts that are cycling over and over this morning are about relationships. So let’s start there.
Relationships have always been confusing to me. Because they are just that. Confusing. It’s never black and white. What works for some does not work for others. While some meet their soulmate early on in life, others have to go through several relationship contracts before they meet “the one”. And yes, I believe in “the one” because I have experienced it. The kind you see in movies. The deep, electric connection at first glance that is inexplainable but absolutely without a doubt, there. The ability to talk for hours, express all your greatest desires and fears, and feel like not only are you listened to, but fully understood.
I was a romantic from birth. I came out of the womb dreaming of meeting “the one” and it took up much of my thoughts. Being an HSP, I feel everything incredibly deeply. I couldn’t wait to find that one man that I could share my life with in deep and astounding ways that other people could only dream about. And I found it. But not without a lot of pain, feeling alone, rejected, and hopeless.
I fall in love fast and deep. My first boyfriend I was madly in love with. We fought a lot but sincerely really loved each other. I lost my viriginity to him, which was devastating because I grew up Mormon, and to have sex outside of marriage was considered almost as bad as murder. Yes. There was a list of sins. Number 1 was murder, number 2 was sex outside of marriage. So naturally my view on sex was unhealthy and created a lot of problems for me in the coming years as a sexually active woman. I think that if Whit and I just allowed ourselves to have a safe sexual relationship, we would have been together longer and things would not have seemed like the end of the world. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, and that just doesn’t work for two mormon kids who aren’t supposed to act on those very natural feelings and instincts. We were constantly making rules for ourselves, that we wouldn’t go past kissing, we wouldn’t be alone, all while feeling incredibly guilty, wanting nothing but to be together but feeling like doing that very thing would bring us to our inevitable fate of going to hell. What a horrible feeling, to not be able to express that love for someone because you believe it is WRONG. That God is looking down on you with disgust and disappointment, yet He was the one that gave you those instincts in the first place. What a confusing and damaging view for anyone to have, especially young people who are just learning what sex is all about. Look at this, this topic is turning into a discussion about sex. That’s fine, I’ll just flow with it. I grew up with two contradicting views on sex, and I was supposed to take those two views on sex, make sense of it, and when it was “time” to have sex in the correct and righteous cirumstances, have the ability to just flip the off switch on the view that sex is evil. Luckily I had awesome parents who talked about it openly with me if I had questions, but because they followed and taught the Mormon beliefs to their kids, that leaked into our conversations. Sex is dirty and evil outside of marriage. But once that paper is signed, it’s beautiful and connecting and one of the most important parts of a relationship. I can tell you from experience that that switch did not flip off for me when I said my vows. I’ve been lucky enough to be one of those women who enjoy sex. I really really enjoy sex. ( I say, “one of those women” because I have heard plenty of stories of women who just truly do not enjoy it.) My hormones kicked in at an early age and I guilty explored that early on. The urges I felt did not coincide with what was “right” and any time I acted on those urges, I immediately felt like scum of the earth and would say a desperate prayer, pleading for forgivness for my evil ways and how could I be so disgusting and dirty and surely something was very wrong with me. But I just couldn’t wait to have sex. My sex drive was strong from the get go. So naturally when Whit and I started dating, making out quickly moved to the next thing and the next thing. We tried to resist the temptation, but DAMN, it all felt so good! I was fairly naive to anything sexual, I just knew what felt good and where. With him I was introduced to all of the fun things you could do without actually having sex. And when we finally did have sex, it was in the park by my parents house under the stars and it felt amazing, but immediately after that, we both broke down in tears, devestated by our inability to control our mortal bodies with our weak spirits. We cried and prayed and agreed to not let it happen again. We were going to be “good.” We always said that. “Let’s be good” Now looking back we weren’t being bad. We weren’t hurting anyone. We were expressing our feelings physically and it felt pretty damn great. I think Whit and I wore out after so many fights, and so much back and forth between wanting to be good, but always being so bad. I was devestated when we broke up, but knew it was for the best. He was my first love, and the connection I felt to him was much deeper because I had lost my viriginity to him. I would still have feelings for Whit for years to come and wonder if we would ever find a way to be together again. Whit treated me well. He made me feel loved and adored and like I was the most beautiful women on earth. While we had our struggles and fights, he would set the foundation of what my love language was.
Shortly after Whit and I broke up, I decided to go to Dixie. It was five hours from my hometown, and I couldn’t wait to get away and be a grown up and be free of my parents rules and expectations. I had told Whit to leave me alone. He wanted to remain friends but I just couldn’t. We tried to hang out once or twice and it was just too hard for me. I saw him on Yahoo chat one day, and said “Hey”. His reaction made me miss him. “Hey Liss! Wow, I’m so glad you’re talking to me” or something of that nature. I told him I was going to Dixie. The next day as I was loading things into my trunk, I saw him walking barefoot towards me. His best friend lived right down the street, so I saw him driving by quite a bit. His face was sad, his vivid blue eyes staring into mine. How I missed seeing that face every day. We had an awkward conversation about me going to Dixie. He stuck his hand out to shake mine, and I was so offended and hurt by this gesture that I refused to take his hand. I had given my body and heart to him, and shaking his hand as if we were business partners felt like a slap in the face to everything I had shared and felt with him. Watching him walk away that day was like breaking up all over again.
Dixie was incredible and just what I needed, at first. I found myself feeling a new and deep appreciation for my family. I missed them terribly, far more than I expected, especially my mom. Which was ironic, given the fact that we had butt heads for years. I met new friends, had one of my best friends as my roommate. We hung out by the pool, dressed up and had our own dance parties on the coffee table, went shopping for strange things at the grocery store that we didn’t need, went sliding down the gutters when rain storms hit,
