And how did she die?

She ain't worried, 6.5

Scrunching my face and almost holding my breath. Clenching my jaw. Tightness in my gut.  These are signs that I’m holding something in. Maybe it’s an opinion,  what I need,  what I want… What I know. How does a woman create when she essentially has her entire insides on lock down? What does she sacrifice in order to be good and proper? Maybe her own life.

How does she open the up again?

Falling, 6.5

Yesterday,  I said “no” and it was hard.  I did it to save my life. Because,  you know,  you can’t live holding your breath and clenching your teeth…All this time, I was hoping to find life in too many “yeses.” Was I secretly hoping that there would be some divine reward for my epic levels of doormat-ary? At minimum,  by relinquishing my own voice and serving up my needs on a silver platter,  I would not be alone… and is there anything sadder that a woman alone? (Not a real question.)

I love that I took a bite of my own needs.  I tasted the sweetness of creating a self-respecting, self-loving boundary. I found my “no” and it cut like buttah. It feels indulgent and sensual.