Realizing the Sky is Attached to My Mountain

I guess it took much more than I could fathom to see meaning in the back of my struggle.
I missed you, so I went forward...
flinging myself and received a marriage proposal.

Can you believe it? Someone wanted to marry me!

I know...you told me you wanted to marry me too.
You always said you wanted to marry your best friend.

To be your best friend...that was the best feeling in the world...
what an amazingly sweet compliment.

Friend...best friend...to me, it meant you trusted me.
In my eyes, you were saying that I was irreplacable. All of a sudden I wasn't some nasty girl who knew how to please you in bed..I was cool enough to share laughter with.

The more you called me friend, the tighter I held on to the facade of something permanent with you. When that permanence turned into yesterday's good feelings, I suddenly realized that we were play friends. I was your toy just like the others. You played with my mind to ensure your ultimate pleasure. You locked me in tight and I was sold completely out for you.

He was no different.

The delivery was as smooth as the whipped cream he loved to lick off of my body as his charisma sent a plague through my heart, captivating my soul. He took the time to see me love him. He showed me with gifts and embraced my short-comings...my hyper-vigilance didn't bother him at all. He seemed to be intrigued by my strength and felt my heart beating as my body waited for the love that would set me free from my prison of my self-loathing...my misdirected desire to understand why molestation and rape had pushed me in a corner and wrapped tape around my mouth and over my nose...

why having sex with a man made it hard for me to breathe.

I called him baby and he loved it. He called me baby more and I was overcome with joy. I wanted someone to own me and he said that, at 41 years old, he was ready to settle down.

He had never been married and seemed to believe I was the one.

At first, he wasn't interested in sex (or at least that's what he said). He avoided pushing himself on me after I told him about my past. It made me want to wrap my legs around him even more. He didn't ask me for it, but he came to see me and took me places...bought me loving things. He made my heart sing through the things he did for me...some people would call them little things, but, to me, they were monumental.

I did what I could to help him understand how much he meant to me, but, in my mind, I hadn't given him enough. For his sacrifice, he deserved pleasure. I wanted him to feel my gratitude. I wanted to get down on my knees and show him how great I was at showing appreciation.

For weeks he came back and forth...a two hour commute...just to see me. He asked for nothing in return and I felt remorseful. I don't think I realized how much I manipulated myself each time a man did something sweet for me. I didn't understand how much I tortured myself when a man showed interest in me...when he treated me as though I had any value. I wanted to lie with him so that he could hear my sounds and feel my wetness overwhelm him. I wanted to hear him breathe hard and grab me tight. I knew I could get him to call my name...all I had to do was lie with him.

He took great effort to avoid the appearance of disrespect, but I knew he wanted me...His great desire for me was expressed by a enormous bulge in the zipper-area of his slacks. He couldn't hide it.

That night I went to his room to spend time with him. I knew I would show him how grateful I was...I purposed in my heart to appreciate him deeply.

I met him at his hotel room. He spent nights in a certain hotel room for his job.

I was ready for him as I walked through the door. The first thing I did was take off my pants. I was underware-free and he didn't seem to mind. As I climbed on the bed, he grabbed my thighs and gave me a wonderful gift. I moaned. I gasped. He held my thighs tight...I flung my head back and bellowed out an uncontrollable scream along with a heavy breathing, then a hot sigh of pressure released from my lungs. My body went into vehment convulsions as it released a river, my heart palpatated, my legs stiffened...he grabbed me even harder and served me even more intensely. I wanted to push him off, but I couldn't because it felt so good that it hurt.

It seemed like forever...then..suddenly my pleasure was over. It was time for me to work for him. I felt my body stiffen. I knew what he expected. He stood over me. Suddenly, I didn't feel sexy any more. He was so big and strong. As he stood over me, I moved forward...psyched myself up to do it while masking the fear I felt. I could tell by the way he layed me down and stood over me that his sexual mannerisms were familar.

His height, size and stance reminded me of my formative years. My first time under a penis. The same musky smell of male hair and man-skin under the folds of perfectly nestled and rather detestable testicles made me a six-year-old. Right away the nausea settled in so with every stroke of my tongue come a long-deep whiff of flashback. As the vomit creeped up my throat and closer to my mouth, I forgot about my attempts to be this beautiful vixen...to prove to this man that I was worth his time and money.

I don't know how I became an instant prostitute all over again, but it happened. I found myself sad and lonely right there with him. I blacked out. I'm sure I did what he wanted because he moaned and cried out in adult saturated pleasure. When it was all done, I covered myself with the sheet and blanket as he held me tight. Pulled me close...nestled deep behind me and whispered a thousand, thousand thank-yous in my ear between kisses and heavy breathing.

It didn't take long for him to love it more than he even liked me...more than that, he loved what I did. Loved it so much that he found opportunities to be with me everyday even when his job kept him two hours away. I tried to find the love in it. I searched so hard, but what I thought was love was more or less a fascination with the skills I developed as a molested child and a raped teenager. Every skill I learned I acquired from someone who was much more experienced and perverted. Through them I learned what it meant to submit myself to the desires of men and push mine far away...my heart died inside of the hatred I built as a fortress around myself. My life hid behind it pleading to have an opportunity to love someone who wouldn't think my past provided a means for him to have a personal prostitute.

I think about the entire experience...I loved him, but he couldn't love me back. He said he wanted me, yet what he really longed for was the satisfaction my ill-gotten skills provided...my heart cried out everyday,

Love me...please love me like no one ever has...make me feel beautiful.

We lasted nearly six months and it was six months of fear that it would become what we had been...a sexual experience. I spent those months afraid of what I knew was inevitable. I longed to hear him keep his promise...purchase the ring...own me...erase my shame...make me a whole woman...stand up for me...avoid temptation for me and embrace my love...hold me tight...reassure me that I was worthy of love and understanding...

I waited for it...I hoped for it...In the end he just walked away from me into the arms of someone else...Unfortunately, she wasn't who he thought she was...to this day he regrets it.

I learned something significant about myself through the heartbreak accompanying that relationship. I had a mountain to conquer. My mountain wrapped up in my strong desire for attention and acceptance...that's natural; however, my reactions to those desires weren't healthy. Since then I've learned my worth...that there is some man of God somewhere who won't see my past as a deficit. Nothing in my past will stop him from loving me or accepting the love I have for him. I both know and believe that...

Even more important, I've learned that I need to wait for true love to develop. Now, I understand that, going into a relationship body-first without giving a man a reason to see me for who I am was a self-destructive pattern that would keep me disappointed and hurt. Therefore, the biggest and deepest revelation of my life is embracing my value and respecting my visage. 

Today, as I stand at the top of that mountain of fear and pain, I can touch the sky...my destiny is brewing in the midst of this encounter. I shall not be moved. I know assuredly that I will see the glory of the Lord in my life even through the memories that sometimes plague me and the thoughts that have left me immobilized (even if only partially) loom over head, I still have great faith in God knowing He has blessed me with a husband who will keep me safe and love me the way the Lord loves me...like Christ loves the church and gave Himself for it.

I can touch the sky now...my destiny is nigh.