Day 29 Belated- the bread and the bones

 I am so aware of every bit of this body. My skin is whispering to me, the ache behind my jaw is muttering and the secrets spilled out this month have dug in deep and bitter in the pit of my stomach. There is also an ease, a deepening movement in my belly as I breathe, a feeling of more room to rest. This body awareness that started at clit and cunt has spread through me like good olive oil moves into thick, crusty bread, slowly soaking it, until the bread is meaty and tastes like olives and the heart of summer when you bite into it. Until you can't separate them, bread and oil, they have become one good thing.

I want to tell you what it's like to carry these old secrets my whole life, etched into my bones with a hunting knife and sandpapered down by time but still brailled into me. Still sore to the touch. I want to tell you about what it's like to set them out for you, along side this dangerous masturbation practice, this self fucking and this immersion into every bit of this body. The dirty dank things and the full throated coming songs. The raw brutal truth of the old shadow whispers and the raw anxious truth of the new pussy songs, that are all achingly true and real and typed into this little box for anyone to read or no-one to read at all. A little too much truth is how I always feel but it's what's here, and I've shown up to write what's here- the bread and the bones of it.

These are things that are hard to set to words. Can't find good bridges after the hook. There aren't good harmonies for this music which has too much sad in it to stand. But I am so grateful to be feeling each finger, typing these words, to feel my feet which I've just washed in cool water and peppermint soap- they are happy in the cool air from the fan. I'm grateful for my tired throat which has a little more room now for air to move in and out, for words to sound, for sound to sound, for coming to echo in like a small, grateful canyon. I'm happy to be aware of my truculent cunt who is keeping a count of the orgasms she hasn't had yet, impatient and she is heated and a little swollen right now, waiting and waiting and waiting.

I'm not sure what will happen when this month ends. This is big healing stuff this masturbation practice. The writing about it. The sharing it with you. It is important. It took me by surprise just how big, how new and shifting and I'm not done yet. This blogging personal content is a new practice too and perhaps I will finally launch a blog that wanted to be a book that's been waiting for a long time now. I'll let you know.

I'd like to have flower petals here for you, dark chocolate and pot roast and baked potatoes. I'd like to have siren songs and wet pussies and hard cock dreams, sweaty humping fantasies, the smell of leather in the room and wet flurried fingers that smell like happy girl. I'd like to have really good dreams to unfurl here on the page, with soft, hard, stroke, throb, glisten and strike. I'd like to have a little moan and sigh for you, and open thighs.

Instead I have just another day stuffed full of sickness and fatigue and too many people and no doors. I still hold out hope for tomorrow, for coming and sharing it with you.

I am so grateful for Jen Cross who inspired this work- if you haven't read her blog Coming Home- you really, really should. Such amazing work and words and generosity and bravery. Also my blogging colleagues at Her Daily Grind, fortunately this is the body and 2fingertouch have such amazing words for you to read, explore and roll around in. Huge work, brave work- hot work. Check them out. Without this good company I'm not sure how this all would have played out. It's a scary business this writing, first person I- about masturbating and about trauma. It's lonely too. And this good company has made all the difference for me. On two occasions it felt like it saved my life.

And I'm grateful for you, for your presence with yourself and with me, with your witness and with your words, spoken and unspoken. Written and unwritten. I hope this coming day is good to you.