There have been some stark moments lately where I’m realizing there are even more layers to who I am and that’s scary. I thought I knew every angle and crevice of my personality and desires. Now there’s this hunger to unveil more and more, ripping up each layer like floorboards of an old house. It’s overwhelming and electrifying, and I can’t slow down.
It all began when I ended a very safe and healing 5-year relationship with a woman (we’ll call her Erin). She taught me what a healthy relationship should look like and how to comfortably live with another person while still holding independence. I owe so much of my growth to that experience and her. It just couldn’t work out – we weren’t right for each other for a lot of reasons.
I don’t think it’s talked about enough how intense it is to just change you’re entire lifestyle after a long relationship like this one. You’re removing an entire person from your life, from your bed every night, from your current and future plans. It rewired my brain and now all I can think about is – ‘What now?’
I began to take stock of my life; the first thing being how I was taking care of myself -how I looked. I asked myself: “How do I want to feel about the way that I look?” The answers always drilled down to confidence. I wanted to look and feel confident.
So, I got Lasik; my biggest insecurity being my glasses. I updated my wardrobe, where for the last few years I almost always wore sweats. I started experimenting with my hair and makeup, where I would usually throw on a hat and didn’t want the work of taking off the makeup so I would forego it altogether out of laziness.
—It’s a little funny now when I look back to see how depressed I actually was in that relationship. Getting out of it and on the *right* SSRI changed my fucking life. I was in such a funk and completely blind to it because of all the weed I smoked – chalking it up to just resting, just relaxing, just taking it easy, just me being me. —
After all that, I began to exercise regularly – wanting the feeling of being refreshed, feeling strong and again, confident. For the last two years I had been insecure of how much weight I had gained which resulted in high cholesterol. I was consuming so much sugar out of comfort, and she was too – we were enabling each other constantly. Add in weed and well, you can see how it can get out of hand.
Almost three months out of the relationship and I’ve dropped a considerable amount of weight out of eating healthy, exercising, and regulating my emotions exclusively. Taking myself out of the disgingenuine relationship began saving my health.
The snowball kept snowballing and I didn’t want it to stop. It became addicting – still is. I told my therapist, “I don’t want it to stop! What else can I do?”
I decided my next exploration would be my sexuality. For the last 7 years, I’ve only been with women. The last guy I had been with I was just 23 years old. I was very unsure about everything in life then – though I still am in a lot of ways – I was in a completely different place filled with insecurity and unhealed trauma. I had no tools.
I’m 30 now and I’ve gone to years and years of therapy and with all the healthy moves I have been making, my libido had picked up which made me think more…creatively. What sounded good. Like food, what could I go for? Between all the smut books I had been reading and my curiosity to what men were like now, I knew I had to move in that direction.
I was so scared at first because 1. what if Erin found out and so soon after our breakup? She would be heartbroken. 2. what if it is awful? What if it brings up triggers?
The very last thing I had wanted was to put myself in a situation where I would come out of it feeling the same ways I had felt when I was young: used, unheard, and transactional. I decided that whatever happened with these men that I would tell them exactly what I wanted and make sure it happened. I wouldn’t settle for an experience my younger self cried over countless times. I started coming up with a plan to do just that, and doing it discreetly so that Erin or anyone would never find out without my control. This was mine.
Something amazing happened from that. I’ll call him Drake. He was the first guy I met on Tinder who made an effort. He made me a little scared with how forward he was, triggering me on a small level, but I summoned the courage to tell him to chill the fuck out and if he wanted it to move forward it would be on my terms. Luckily, he took it very well and the mutual respect only grew from there as he texted me every day for a week until we met up, hopping on the phone once for two hours just so I’d be more comfortable first.
He came over on Valentines Day of all days – by accident. He swept me up in a kiss in the first moment, ripping the bandage off in an instant. It quickly escalated but it lasted forever, in the best way. It happened a few times with sweet moments tucked in the middle. He made it feel comfortable and safe. He made me feel desired. He asked questions and leaned into my answers. He helped me grasp in that moment that sex with men didn’t need to feel the way I only knew it to be.
Don’t get me wrong, the guy has his flags and I would never consider a relationship with him, but I’m so grateful for the experience and the mutual intentions for connection. I walked away (barely) with a new outlook and giddiness to an entire side of my sexuality that I can now feel confident can be pleasurable and accessible.
It made me emotional for a few days, just processing the experience. How my body felt and at what times, what things he did that I enjoyed and perhaps what I wanted to try next.
Tinder came through again with another guy, we’ll call him Jesse. He was more subtle, actually barely forward except for his pet names for me – “Queen” and “Baby” that I guiltily throbbed for. I began to notice his insecurities, lack of communication and time management, and worst of all – his drinking problem. Things escalated anyways and I let him grab me in big bear hugs that would melt me to the core. I would let him grab my hand and kiss the back of it as he looked in my eyes and said something sweet. Two weeks of talking and it appeared he craved the ‘girlfriend’ connection more than the physical, and I was kind of okay with that.
We eventually had sex and I was pretty curious to see how it would feel compared to Drake. Would he also know what to do and how to do it? Would I feel just as safe and comfortable? I couldn’t help a little nervousness as we didn’t have as direct conversations like Drake and I about what we liked and didn’t like. Jesse didn’t get my spiel on ‘I won’t accept anything but quality’ as I told Drake from the start – but that was because Jesse didn’t come off as threatening as Drake did in the beginning with his fuck-boy talk. Jesse was also more shy.
I approached everything with Jesse differently and it showed. It showed in Jesse’s comfort to be a little too drunk, it showed in me letting myself be drunk along with him. It showed in Jesse’s lack of focus on me in that moment…his inability to take direction and make consistent effort to ensure I was having as good as a time. The sex certainty wasn’t bad, but it was nothing compared to Drake and I felt that in my heart. My younger self felt it a little, she was a little disappointed in me.
I’ve let her down a lot these last seven years. Not calling it quits when I should have with Erin. Not taking care of my physical and mental health. Staying in a job that was chiseling away at my peace.
I owe it to her to make up for it, so I told Jesse that I needed to move on. Even though I loved the sweet platonic things he would do, I knew I couldn’t let myself feel less on the physical end. I knew his drinking problem wouldn’t let up for me to do that. It was surprisingly difficult. I had grown attached to the sweetness and because of that, i strung him on a little bit more than I should have.
There was a lesson there that I needed to learn. A reminder that sometimes I have to override my feelings even when it sucks, that I have to parent my younger self from making choices that would hurt me in the long run even though it felt good. It also brought to light a feeling of lack – a deep desire for hugs, comfort and general connection. Something I’m actively trying to fill with my friendships, a dependable love.
So, after all this glorious snowballing and lesson-learning and sexual awakenings, I’ve let myself reap the benefits in other parts of my life. The confidence leaked into work – which resulted in taking on new projects and receiving accolades for my work. It leaked into my friendships – opening up for more vulnerable conversations. I have been becoming more myself – getting my sparkle back as they say – and leaning into my truest thoughts and desires. People have been noticing and telling me how excited they are for my changes, which snowballed me even more.
I will say, I’m still adjusting to this side of myself. Learning who she is, how much is too much. When to fold and when to press forward.
I’ve now redirected to my job. If this HR career is something I actually want for the rest of my life or something I have kept with out of comfort and my long-lasting depression.
I know that I would write full-time if I could. But the confidence hasn’t leaked in that direction just yet and I know that full-time writing isn’t common. Not only are the odds against me, but I feel that my ADHD brain sends me on unorganized tangents. That I miss important details, themes or connections that would strenghten my writing. That I lack outline and general structure.
I joined a creative writing group to help with this, which is such a huge step out of my comfort zone, but it’s once a month. This blog is anonymous, and I’m scared for anyone I know to see it; critique it. My best friend reading my diary when I was younger still triggers me today. I have a lot of fears around my writing still.
I know that if I want that to change that I need to make big uncomfortable changes as I’ve done so far in other areas of my life. So, what would big uncomfortable changes look like? How can I melt the confidence into this?
The snowball must continue – I won’t let it stop, at least not yet. If I let it, this could perhaps be the biggest roll.
Hello Coco : A diary 
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