the yearning: to have each other. and a story.

I am all too familiar with the yearning.

The yearning to have someone; to have what a someone can provide: admiration, appreciation, feedback that I am on the right track, that I am beautiful, that I am making a significant difference.  That I am wanted, desired, desirable. That I am the most magnificent to HIM, the most dear to HER.

Most of my life I have stifled these yearnings. They were too much, embarrassing, shameful. They weren’t met, and that hurt. The hurt had no outlet most of the time. It built up and I lived a long time ‘around it.’

The yearnings got me in trouble. They got me pushed away when they got desperate. They got me pregnant when they were appealing.

But mostly, they got me against myself…when I stifled them.

More and more I am learning to just HAVE them. And be real about asking for them to be answered.

We all, at times, want to have HIM or HER.

HIM: the impressive provider, masterful, protector, powerful lover, bold adventurer.

HER: the delicious nurturer, beautiful inspiration, playful temptress, soft place to land.

What would we be if we HAD them?

In each other and IN OUR SELVES.

I think it would be epic. In fact I’ve bet my whole life on it; I’ve immersed myself in the work of freeing HIM and HER to HAVE EACH OTHER.

Within us, HE is might be identified as spirit, and SHE as nature…or the other way around. The Logical, linear, focused one; the creative, chaotic, wild one. The skeleton, the soft tissues.

 

Have you hear my story of Jelly Girl and Her Skeleton?

Once there was a Jelly Girl. She had become afraid of her Skeleton; he was hard, sharp, and he looked like DEATH to her. So she put him in a closet.

But it was hard to get stuff done without a skeleton. She was mostly a puddle on the floor, really, unless she tensed up REALLY tight. And that was fucking tiring.

But when she looked around at the other women, who had their skeletons still, the way they looked freaked her right out. They looked hard, sharp and deadly. She didn’t want to be those things.

So she did her best. Trouble was, her best sucked. She was so tense, and she couldn’t get much done at all.

One day she peeked into the closet where her Skeleton was. He was super eager, “do you want me? Can I help you? What do you need?”

But he looked so friggen hard and sharp and deadly, she got scared and shut the door on his nose, (which he didn’t really have. She had the nose. Well, the soft-tissued parts. It looked silly, truth be told, without the bony bridge to hold it up.)

Jelly Girl kept going, trying to get stuff done using her tension in lieu of her Skeleton. Pretty soon, she wanted to die. It was so hard. So painful. So she realized she’d got to the point where she had nothing to lose.

She went back to the closet. She told her Skeleton, “I am so fucking scared, but I am more scared to go on without at least trying. I hate being tense all the time, a puddle on the floor. But I am SO SCARED…that you will hurt me with all your points and hardness!”

“I don’t want to hurt you, my Girl; I just want to support you.”

And Jelly Girl started to cry so much that her tears filled the room. Skeleton, in his wisdom, didn’t try to stop her. He felt Something happening, he noticed.

Pretty soon Jelly Girl began to float in her own tears. Her arms and legs became discernible for the rest of her blobby mass and floated to their places. Her soft tissues became juicy. She began to open.

Skeleton, ever aware of the need to guard her sensitivity, lest she shut down and give up on letting him in, spoke softly in her ear, words of love, comfort and admiration. These words turned her tears of sadness into tears of joy and the room filled further.

And when everything was finally aligned, he carefully entered her.

She hadn’t expected it to feel so good and so ordinary at the same time.

He did, after all, belong here.

Her tension eased. Her body became erect, her limbs filled with hardness, now showed off their muscles and curves and form.

Emerging from the waters of her grief so long held, she looked at her self in the mirror.  She looked at THEM. They were beautiful together. Tall and poised, and OH THOSE COLLAR BONES!

Skeleton was his usual cool, solid self, but he had never been so satisfied. Jelly Girl’s juices brought new life to him. He points became less penetrating, he supported her like a pro. And she moved him. They danced. And it was the most fucking beautiful thing either of them had ever known. It is waaaay easier for a Jelly Girl dance when she has a Skeleton. And waaaay more beautiful for a Skeleton to dance when he has a Jelly Girl 😉

THE END

Notice some things…to integrate…Jelly Girl had to trust and allow for his hardness, she had to get juicy and open, by way of her emotions; she had to have every part of herself in alignment so as not to be hurt by her Skeleton.

And Skeleton, he had to be patient, hold strong space during the crying, accept and be careful of her sensitivities…he had to LISTEN to her cues, so that BOTH of them could have each other.

There is an epilogue: in order for Jelly Girl and her Skeleton to NOT become like those scary women she had encountered, she needed to listen to her Skeleton every day, his words of affection, admiration and appreciation and his carefulness kept her tension at bay. She needed to trust him to support her, rather than holding on to him with tension in an effort to control him. She also needed to keep juicy, and they did this by dancing a lot. And by eating whatever the fuck she wanted (and with his whisperings, she happened to want what would keep those bony angles showing).

I suppose there is a story about Jelly Boy and His Skeleton. Hm.

May we each HAVE each other. In fact…we do.