Winning

Another day, same haunts

I recall as a child being alone in the bathroom. I wanting to flex my arm like a “muscle man “, but couldn’t allow myself to.

Asserting my boyhood felt forbidden and dirty. I couldn’t believe I was lesser than the other boys, because even that lowly distinction included me as a boy. No, I was something other than.

I am really starting to understand the degree I am dissociated from my body. If a simple gesture like making a muscle was impossible what relationship could I have with my genitals? None.

I still don’t. But in my quest to heal I have developed a much better relationship with my body in general. As sad as being deprived a sex life is, maybe I won out in the end?