#flash mag

by Lana C. Marilyn

Loving yourself is never an overnight process. I think it happens in seasons. It’s this non-linear uphill climb to being a better person, to feeling more confidence in yourself, your body, your life. Bits and pieces. Sometimes doing your best means you learn to love yourself in bits and pieces before you’re ready to look at the whole. That’s been my experience, at least. And I think that’s okay.

For me, my struggle with self love isn’t a dislike of my physical appearance. It’s not a doubt of my creative abilities or skills. Instead, it’s a disconnect with my expression as a sexual being. There’s like, a “block” that inhibits me from having healthy, enjoyable experiences that I don’t feel guilt-ridden about after. It’s hard to pinpoint the root of the problem but suspected culprits are a lifetime of internalized shame, and a history of coercion, unsolicited sexual advances, and disassociation as a coping mechanism for discomfort. I feel broken. I know it doesn’t look like that for everyone but the point is: I don’t feel confident in my freedom to share myself with another person, and if not corrected, it will spiral into a pattern of dysfunctional relationships.

So what’s the solution? I think the answer involves me taking the steps to understand myself, to learning how to exercise sexual agency on my own terms, to trying to break down the barriers that lead to shyness. Sex positivity seems to promote consensual promiscuity, and for those of us intimidated by that, the “broken” feeling weighs heavier than ever.

On my personal blog, I vent sometimes about these frustrations. I feel envious at times, of other women. Women who talk bluntly about their sexual conquests, who are unapologetic about their needs. I’m simply not there yet, and I’m embarrassed by it. Voicing those fears has been a huge component of my recovery to reclaiming agency. Recently after sharing a post, a friend reached out to me with a book recommendation she thought I might find helpful.

The good news is, she was right.

This month, I’ve begun reading Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski. She’s an accomplished sex educator and her book dispels a lot of the myths around women’s sexuality through a scientific lens. Using diagrams and nifty metaphors, Nagoski presents a digestible new understanding of female sexual function and how women process and exercise sexual excitement. Along the way, the book offers a theory for what creates “blocks” like mine and how to undo them. I’m only a third of the way through reading but I’ve already begun to feel a little less broken already. I’m just different, is what Nagoski suggests. Everyone has the same parts, in a different order, and there’s no “right” order. So all variations are normal. And once I understand my own, I can regain control.

Already I feel equipped to make better choices in partners or to discern my own comfort levels. (The book includes quick questionnaires and worksheets designed to make understanding yourself fun!) So far I’ve learnt a new formula for understanding the ‘mechanics’ of sexual attraction and I’ve read about the emotional attachment styles people develop that affect the kind of sex we have. Imagine how revolutionary it is to understand attraction as an intertwined set of gears that start and stop. (The accelerator-brake theory.) Or to learn that I’m an anxious lover, and getting over this is key to my confidence.

Reading the book and digesting all this info is one thing. In hopes of actually implementing the advice, I’ve begun working on opening up to my partners, for example. Recently I shared my findings about “anxious attachment” and it spawned an entire confession of my fears and insecurities, which were met with ample reassurance. The best I can do right now is communicate with my partner. Come As You Are is simply supplying me with tools to understand my needs so that I can go back and explain them. I am very lucky to be involved with someone who’s patient with me during this process.

Moving forward, I hope to do things that will just help me to feel more present in my own body. I’ve been thinking of starting yoga again or taking dance lessons or starting a new journal. Perhaps even a diet would be beneficial. I’m not sure yet. But I know what recovery looks like. It means feeling sexy. It means confidence in my body beyond just superficial approval of its appearance. It means feeling able to say “No” and mean it and to say “Yes” with enthusiasm and conviction. It means that I’ll be able to talk about asexuality without hesitance.

It’s a long recovery process. But a necessary one. So I’m going to be optimistic! What things about yourself are you learning to love in 2017? (I wish you the best of luck!!)