Trying to breathe

That was his summary of what happened last session (August 11).


I have been having some nightmares, waking scared or sad. G says there is a primary or alter who holds anxiety, still fears intimacy. I still have a knot in my psyche where I do not allow myself sexual pleasure. Giving is fine.

Now I am seeing I have never distinguished sexual love from lust. If I am enjoying sex, lust takes over and fills my mind with flashbacks and fantasies and dirty words. Here, in G's office, Teddy bears on the couch, pictures of his children on the bookshelves, pictures of him proudly holding fish he has caught, we command the spirit of lust to leave in the authority of Jesus Christ. . . .

It comes to me suddenly: Letting myself enjoy sex would involve letting go. Letting go of control. Letting go of being on alert for danger from without. I can't afford to let go when I am on duty, when it is up to me to protect myself.

And then, of course, there is the knot of conflict about my right to feel pleasure.


The little skinny, starving self in the doorway is facing into the dark stable now, although the big clogs on her feet are still facing out. The dark wolf creature is still crouching in the cell, half-filling it. He is tied to me--or I am tied to him--but even when I am next to him in the cell he does not threaten or scare me. He does not seem to care that I am there. He does not turn his head to look at me. He is just there.

Is it love she can't take in? Like the time I had asthma and couldn't breathe, couldn't take in any of the cool night air that was all around me, was gasping, panting, dying for lack of the very element I was immersed in?

(August 23, 2012)