Giving Myself Permission To Be Human
by Lila Huxley
I've had two big, defining relationships in my life. Both of them were people I found to be funny and kind and good partners. But each time, over the course of the years we were together, the sex and the intimacy would go from excellent to okay to just nonexistent. I would start madly in love, but by the end I just wanted to be done.My last breakup was especially rough. It was hard to see how well he was doing after we split. The worst part was how open he was about the parts of the relationship that I felt like I'd failed. I felt humiliated and out of control.I longed to be in another relationship, but I had stopped believing it could happen for me. Eventually, I gave up on relationship and started to focus on myself. Six months on I was living my “best possible life”: I had a beautiful apartment, my diet was clean, I exercised, I dressed well, and my career was thriving. And I was miserable. I wanted connection, but there wasn't anyone I trusted to let into this immaculate life.I heard about OM through a friend and even though I laughed it off, it stuck in my head. I went to an OM-related event and left feeling completely seen. The more people talked about their experience OMing, the more I realized had been missing in my life. I was doing great in my life, but my life was too small for me. I wouldn't let myself feel so shut down any longer.It was hard to let go of looking good. I'd gotten so good at the little life I'd been living, I never let anyone see the messier sides of me. OM revealed me in ways I couldn't have expected... I farted. In an OM. In another OM, my stroker noticed there was a little piece of toilet paper stuck to me. If you had asked me in advance, I would have said these are the most mortifying things that could possibly happen, but in the moment, they weren't much of anything. The OM continued and I still enjoyed it. Outside the OM, I started to realize how much work I'd put into trying to look good. I had felt so out of control in my break up that I had poured the energy of all that hurt and anger and jealousy into things I I could control and trapped myself inside that too-small life.As uncomfortable as it was, the only way to have the life I wanted was to become more open. Not just about my body, but about what I wanted. It was uncomfortable to ask for what I want *in the exact same way* as that discomfort of needing to pass gass in that OM. Giving direction and adjusts my stroker was really giving myself permission to be human and need things.If you can tell someone how exactly to touch your clitoris for 15 minutes, you can ask for so many other things. I can say to a friend, “Will you hang out with me in the kitchen for a bit?” Just that simple request would have been impossible before. Now, I can get what I need by asking for what I want.