Breathe

Brand new.

All of this.

Tomorrow I have a first date.

I’ve never done this, any of it.

Dated.

Met someone online.

Before last summer, I’d only loved two people.

Had only slept with a few others.

I never realized it before, but I think I was proud of that.

Only now, as I’m faced with letting go of that piece of my identity, has it registered for me.

This sense that I was innocent or pure, the way I’ve been cultured to be the ideal for women.

I’ve always felt like my sexuality could only be sacred if I kept it small and private, held in a monogamous container.

As this new part of me grows inside, I’m having to question that belief.

I was taught that this side of me was only safe if I held it close, and could bring me pain if I let it truly become alive.

What if this was all wrong?

What if pain can find me no matter what, and keeping my sexuality in a cage has been just as harmful?

What if love doesn’t have to mean ownership, and the process of cultivating deep trust in that love is what actually brings true security.

It’s hard.

To let go of who I’ve always been, what I’ve always believed.

But also, I feel lighter.

Braver.

Safer.

Freer.

More whole.

More me.

Like this part of me has been waiting a lifetime to be born.

Just aching for me to be ready to allow it to breathe.