de·tached
Adjective:
Separate or disconnected, in particular.
(of a house or other building) Not joined to another on either side.
I am detached. Disconnected from center, in my body and not. My head is flying in different directions. I am trying to finish up my writing for tonight's reading, still humming with the words of other writers: from last night's Salon where we had good food and drink and read and listened and immersed ourselves in each others rich words and re-reading writers I will celebrate and give feedback to for today's writing workshop. I love to carry all these words around me; they take me so many places.
Why can I dive all the way into written word, spoken word with complete and focused attention and be so scattered in this body?
Today in the shower, so detached, distracted, short on time I multi-tasked. I popped the metal vibrator in between my legs and kept it there, standing, my legs squeezed tight together, the vibrator humming on low while I washed and conditioned my hair. I let myself think of all the things that have to get done today, wonder what I'll wear, and at the same time fantasize that you are behind me pulling me back by the hair as I rinse the slippery conditioner out and I find that arching back leads to intense sensations in my cunt and that my cunt is more focused than I.
She apparently can't be bothered with my flippant attitude this morning, my fractured attention, my detachment. She is her own hungry entity and she got busy without me. She came three times in different ways that are hard to describe. Hard to define.
Vaginal orgasms? G spot orgasms? Ejaculating orgasms? Clit adjacent (hard and throbbing and happy when I came but not at the center of all that coming). I just know they were different, sharp, short, hard and repeated. Then I quickly washed and got out of the shower. Ten minutes- outfit picked out, words sorted, orgasms had and here I am.
Still feeling detached as if I were talking about some other woman's crazy shower and not my own.
My body is here, I am here but we are not joined to another on either side. It's something else. And my words don't come easily because that's how it is when you are split and separated, subdivided and not breathing freely. But that's what I have today and that will have to do.
What about you?
Are you celebrating National Masturbation Month? Are you finding you way inside or outside to wet or hard or both?
Are you coming along for the ride?
So grateful for this post, for this clarity of writing around the experience of being fractured and split -- what an amazing thing, Renee.
ReplyDeleteThis totally stays with me: "She apparently can't be bothered with my flippant attitude this morning, my fractured attention, my detachment. She is her own hungry entity and she got busy without me. She came three times in different ways that are hard to describe. Hard to define."
-- and what stays about it is how the body is beholden to its desire, how there's someplace that exists (I think) without that interwoven shame, that just follows what it/she/we know how to do; what stays is this COMMITMENT you've got during this time to come ANYWAY: even though there's no time, even though there's washing to do / writing to figure out / a body to piece back together -- and then you do. I'm so very inspired by this/you today.
xox
Jen
Thank you Jen for these thoughtful words. I love this- "how the body is beholden to its desire" and how hopeful this makes me feel- "there's someplace that exists without interwoven shame that just follows what it/she/we know how to do..."
ReplyDeleteI love this idea that you are articulating and that I have been experiencing that regardless of my old dark things in the closet, the constant threat of shame and my own uncertainty, my body responds just to the promise of this orgasm- just to the promise. It seems to trust me and itself. It knows where it's going even if I am caught up in how we get there. <3