Letting Go Of The "Fantasy" Version Of Me
love has never been lost, only found when remembering who I truly am.
My twenties have been a time of healing and self exploration.
It feels as if sensuality has consumed every waking part of me, especially in the first few years of this second decade. As I approached the age of twenty-one, I went through a spiritual transformation. This was when I quit photography the first time (I did it once before if you would believe). That summer I lost fifteen pounds, grew out my hair, got into makeup and started wearing more form fitting clothing. My external changed because of who I was becoming within. I felt alive, I felt passionate. I was following the guidance of Mama Gena, listening to the messages from her evolutionary books. I felt free and untamed in comparison to who I was in my teen years.
The biggest change was when I finally got the confidence to start dating. Most of my life before, I dated girls. I’ve been sexually fluid all of my existence, but when I was a teenager dating girls felt safer. Once I was old enough to explore the pool of men, I dove in head first. I signed up for Tinder (cringe) because that was the thing to do. I was still coming out of my shyness, so meeting virtually and already knowing they found me attractive due to my profile felt less daunting. This way of dating is not how I encourage you to meet someone by the way. This was just what my process was at the time.
In the beginning, I wasn’t looking for anything serious but some social fun. I went on a date with a different guy multiple times a week, it was ridiculous. I didn’t have a real connection with any of them of course. Some I saw for longer periods than others, but for the most part they were all short flings. This form of interaction with men set a pretty poor example. Instead of pursuing a real connection with a real person, I was becoming addicted to the dopamine rush of swiping and having men I didn’t even know drool over me. When I would stumble across someone that I was truly interested in, I would begin to panic. This was a game of performance for me, one I knew deep down would never foster a serious relationship.
This version of me was a glamour, a form of protection. When someone I had feelings for would get close to me, it threatened that protection. The real me would inevitably be forced to slip through the cracks.
By twenty-three this became a huge insecurity of mine. This phase was reaching its end, and I was terrified. I feared going back to the shy shell of a girl that I was before. In high school I was the kid who wore oversized hoodies, hid her face and blasted music in her earbuds to escape the world. I was invisible because I wanted to be. I didn’t feel safe to be myself. When I became confident in my sensual prowess, I felt powerful. I was getting the attention from men that I always wanted. But the thing was, I still never felt seen. This is because although this mask was different, I was still hiding, just in a more socially acceptable way.
No matter how many compliments I got, I still felt lonely. More than before even.
I felt desired, but I never felt loved.
I remember hearing the song ‘pretty hurts’ by Beyonce for the first time. Immediately it hit home. I was still hurting, because I was using my appearance to escape the pain I harbored. I kept trying to run away from myself, robbing myself of my authenticity. I was ashamed.
Whenever I’d run into someone I knew from my hometown the anxiety would take over. Although more often than not, the reaction was positive because of how different I looked, I still felt like that same fearful child who got bullied everyday. Instead of painting over my wounds, I should’ve sat with them so I could learn how to heal them.
Eventually, I was met with another heartbreak, one that shattered this version of me. For a while I was filled with coldness, and I became hardened again. Still in touch with my sensuality, but no longer in the free flow of my wild feminine.
I discuss my complex relationship with my masculinity in the newsletter below ↓
Rendered Into My Femininity
I was raised single handedly by an incredibly strong woman. One who quite literally, sacrificed her soul for the sake of her children. Lacking a father figure is hard, but what’s even harder is watching your mother raise two kids all by herself. She was our everything: the one who gave us life, our hero, our teacher. She wore every hat there was to wear…
I carried more shame than before, but this time it was directed towards my sensuous nature. At the time I thought it was healthy. I was gaining maturity, I didn’t want to chase boys anymore (subconsciously I still was). I wanted to show up differently, but once again I was escaping myself and the new wounds that were forged in my adulthood.
My mid-twenties I had tamed my finesse, replaced by stoicism and my love for philosophy. The mind was being chosen over the body. I thought strength was found in indifference. At times it is, but not when your heart needs your attention the most. Instead of choosing to heal, I chose to endure.
Despite my new stoic nature, the part of me that yearned for male attention lingered beneath the cold surface. I was still longing to be seen, but not knowing how to be whole in my vulnerability. I recently found a quote that read:
“God breaks the heart again and again and again until it stays open”
I’m not the religious kind, but I am a woman of spirituality. I used to solely believe that challenges were giving me strength, but now I see they were trying to give me something more— an opportunity to be vulnerable, granting me an open heart. The only way I could find peace was through self acceptance, and daring to be seen for who I truly am. If I wanted to stop living in fear, if I wanted to stop hiding, I needed to stop hiding from myself.
By twenty-five my heart couldn’t take the resistance anymore. I realized one too many ways that envisioning myself as a rock wasn’t compliant with who I truly am. I feel deeply. My heart is one of the biggest I know, one that is sensitive and warm. There’s too much love inside of it for me to keep it captured. For years I viewed my heart as something precious and merely fragile. But actually, the depth of its capacity to feel is what makes it strong. To go into life with a soul of wisdom and a heart wide open. Alignment is found by accepting all of who I am at all times, not only fragments when it is convenient.
Each year I feel more like myself. I literally say this every year because it’s true. The last two years to be exact, I’ve challenged myself tremendously.
It’s been officially one year since I stopped straightening my hair, allowing my lioness curls to rain in all her glory.
I don’t wear makeup nearly as often, I go months without it.
I no longer meet men through dating apps, I’ve learned how to form a friendship first and foremost.
I let my guard down. I allow myself to receive and to be vulnerable with the men before me.
I don’t feel the need to entertain or impress guys anymore, because I no longer fear the possibility of rejection. This started by not rejecting myself.
I don’t use my sensual prowess as a means to seduce, I’d prefer to be introduced by the charisma of my unparalleled personality.
After years of struggling with it, I finally allow myself to be seen for who I truly am. My walls have been broken, and all that’s left is my core self. This isn’t the end of course, I’m only twenty-seven. Now it’s time to build from this authenticity.
It’s true what they say about your twenties, I’m already making peace with the parts of myself that once felt like I wasn’t enough exactly as I am. I have a long road ahead and the only way to evolve is by living in the now and embracing myself audaciously.
I’ll always be a sensualist, I’ll always be a lover. It is in my nature. But I am so much more than only this. It would be a shame for me to leave the other elements of myself behind, or to think they’re not as worthy.
What it comes down to, I’m letting go of the fantasy version of myself.
I’ve let go of the facade.
I’ve let go of patterns of feeling the need to fix someone or prove myself.
I’m changing how I show up, and how I want to be represented on a platform as powerful as the internet. Who would’ve guessed thirty years ago that we’d live in a time where your presence online feels like your whole identity?
Both personally and professionally, I don’t want to be defined by one thing.
Because not only has this path affected my relationship with myself, it’s affected my romantic connections as well. Being both a sensual artist and emotional space for others has been a little complicated. The past year I’ve worked with a lot of men, both through imagery and talk-based sessions. I’ve had great clients, but I’ve also realized a couple things. One of which, all of my clients have seen me naked. All of my male clients have seen me naked. I’ve even had some of them come forth admitting their attraction towards me and how they frequently fantasize about me. This isn’t a complete shocker given we’re human beings and can’t control our bodily response to seeing someone of the opposite sex nude. What’s complicated is when the sessions begin to feel more like companionship and there is no longer a professional goal for our time together.
This has made it incredibly hard in the dating arena amongst other things. For years I shrugged it off and thought to myself that if a man couldn’t handle my work, then clearly he isn’t confident enough to be with me. I certainly don’t feel that way anymore. It’s hard being in a serious relationship when your work is so intimate and personal. It’s hard for you and the person who loves you. There has to be a significant amount of trust built in order for it to work. Most partners won’t initially understand why or how we’d even begin to do this sort of thing. There has to be boundaries and importantly there has to be empathy. I realized that a potential boyfriend voicing their concerns towards me discussing intimacy and sexuality with various men (also photographing them naked) wasn’t them trying to attack or control me, but sharing their own vulnerabilities on the matter. Maybe they had exes who cheated on them or other past traumas etc. Given that clients have outwardly confessed their desire for me I can’t blame them.
There’s a variety of women who work in intimate settings and still manage to have monogamous fulfilling relationships with their spouses, but the world we live in is complex. Communication has never felt more hazy despite its constant marketing. We’ve become so sex positive that those who have a differing opinion are often looked down upon. I believe everyone has the freedom to do as they wish, and to entice their sexuality in whichever way they please. At the same time, I believe everything should be done with intention, that people should ask themselves why they enjoy certain intimacies. Even when people claim “it’s not always that deep” which I agree, not everything relating to sex is that deep.. and that’s the problem.
How many stories have we heard by now of people expressing their emotional detachment to sex given its invasiveness. Those not understanding the meaning of true non-physical intimacy? People don’t trust their inner voices anymore and more often than not, they’ll throw away a real connection with someone in excuse for chasing something that will only give them a temporary high.
Looking inward, uncomfortably so, I realize that I was becoming the gatekeeper of men’s secrets. Even off the record I kept the discretions of men close to me.
I wanted so desperately to make men feel loved.
I wanted to save them because deep down I wanted a man to save me.
I was trying to fix the broken pieces of my father’s absent love.
I yearned to fix, to build someone up, so that in return I would finally receive the love I always wanted.
I didn’t realize how much of the pain was a reflection of myself, the parts I had abandoned.
I can’t point fingers, other than at the broken system.
I don’t blame men, I don’t dislike men, I love men.
I love them so much that I want to heal my relationship with them, and in order to do that I have to heal the wounds in myself that are in relation to them.
I won’t retreat within myself or create walls the way I would’ve before.
I want to always continue being open hearted and true to myself.
I cannot chase, fix or seduce with a glamorized illusion.
It’s not fair to anyone and only brings forth more pain and a reminder of the lesson that’s trying to be learned.
Pain has been a doorway to healing.
The act of surrender has been my virtue.
Coming home to my warm, soft feminine spirit was the reward.
Who I am when I’m not always giving to others, when I’m not entertaining anymore.
Who I am when the camera’s not on, when I’m alone with the spirit which sways in my heart.
I can let it all go.
I would be shattered over and over again until I inevitably returned to myself.
Love has never been lost, only found when remembering who I truly am.
Powerful & moving words. Thank you for being open, vulnerable & sharing this with us.