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I'm a little late to the party....but...
http://www.reverb10.com/the-prompts/
December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you're choosing that word. Now, imagine it's one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)
Growth.
Everything in my world - EVERYTHING - has grown and blossomed this year.
Implicit in growth, is restoration and repair. Around this time last year I was in a bad place. Here's a little story - one which I need to tell - which is just a small example but a good one.
Last year, I was in an abusive relationship. I had my husband (R) to love and hold and squeeze me, and I was also in a relationship with two people who assured me of their loving care, that they would protect me and keep me safe, and enjoyed my increasing dependency on them. I was encouraged to lean on them, for support, and help. And I needed quite a lot of support and help. R was ill, I was struggling to come to terms with the direction all my relationships were taking. The abuse was mostly emotional, sometimes subtle, confusing, and utterly cruel.
One play date fell just as I was about to go on holiday. R was happy for me to play on the condition that no marks would show when I was in my bikini. So I set out specific boundaries for this occasion. It was a clear agreement, clearly communicated and understood.
They beat me, and went too far. One person held my breasts, while the other, hit them. The resulting deep tissue bruises were clearly visible over the top of my bikini, and through thin clothing. They took six weeks to show significant signs of healing, and it was months before the skin was completely clear. I slathered on arnica cream day and night, but still the bruises stayed - black and huge. R was angry with me, he felt it showed no respect for him, and he was right. He was repulsed by my naked body, and I took pains to hide it as much as I could. Sex ended in spectacular failure when I took my top off.
The worst thing though - was that I defended them. I tried to laugh it off, even showed my friends the bruises, seeking confirmation that for a dominant, getting carried away and going too far, was normal. I defended them to R. The person who hit me, gloated, boasting about it and telling me how aroused it made them, how they enjoyed it and felt pride in it.
I wasn't able to tell anyone how unhappy, how betrayed I felt. I couldn't even admit it to myself.
When that relationship ended, spectacularly, as could have been predicted - I was so lost, so alone. Over the last year, I've healed, and flowered beyond my expectations. I've come into my power, as a person, as a woman.
The mind heals, but the body remembers. It doesn't make me upset to talk about these things, but when someone beats my breasts, I instantly start to sob. At a play party a few weeks ago, with the Ladies Who Play (an all female space where we can enjoy casual, playful BDSM), I had an extended beating on the breasts, and a hard session with three gorgeous women. The moment I was hit in that place, I immediately began crying, a grief stricken outpouring that I couldn't hold back. The body remembers.
I pushed through, and received the pain, which on my breasts was given mostly by my very old and beloved friend. It was cathartic in the extreme, and afterwards, as I was held and stroked and calmed by women, telling what had happened to me, I felt something deep, deep inside me, relax.
And now, when I'm hit there, in that place which was once such a hotline to my tears, it is the same as when I am hit anywhere else on my body, in mutual pleasure and excitement. And reassurances and support will be given, and it will be done with affection and respect, not motivated by spite and vicious cruelty.
In this small way, among many, many other ways, I am healed.
If I hope anything for next year, it is that I consolidate the things that I have learned, the new relationships I have built, the old ones that are flourishing, and the growth I have felt within me this year.
