Year of the Inner Goddess

February 2024 – Audio Version

This is not a torrid account customarily holding court in my mind. Instead, this is the rambling introspection of a baffled woman who finds herself in love after years of forswearing herself to a life of solitude and chastity. Okay, no need to laugh! Celibacy is not for the faint of heart, especially when one is endowed with a rapacious Inner Goddess such as I. As I was saying, the following is my reflection. 

As a teenager and young adult, I had the impression that the older I became, the more I would comprehend about life, love, and happiness. Peering side to side, the adults around me evidently had life “figured out.” Sure, days came with ups and downs and a certain amount of unpredictability and toil, but that was to be expected. I witnessed friends move up in their careers. Some obtained grandeur homes or traveled to exotic destinations. Others expand their families, smiling faces on all the holiday cards. Everyone seemed to win as they plodded along in their individual journies. Yet, the older I have become, the less I know and understand about practically everything.

Rather than becoming a discarded, worn-out stuffed animal from my childhood, anxiety keeps pace, shadowing every decision, a parasite that questions not only my choices but intimate thoughts. Upholding the responsibility of parenting, employee, entrepreneur, student, friend, and lover while persistently dogged with doubt and uncertainty has wreaked havoc on my acid reflux. Now, in a girlfriend role, I am at a loss when attempting to decipher the meaning of ” love” when so much of my life feels like a game of Minesweeper. My finger hesitantly hovered over the little gray cube, praying a bomb is not concealed below, primed to leave my life in utter disarray…again. I do not know what wholesome love or true intimacy looks like. I have gotten it so wrong in the past. 

In my youth and early adulthood, I thought love was growing up together, marrying, buying that dream house, having babies, yardwork on Saturday, and church on Sunday. Commitment and vows held supreme value and gravitas. Love willingly uprooted everything we knew and blithely transported us 650 miles to an alien state. I thought love was strong enough to survive death because its roots were buried in the soil of familiarity, time, and devotion. But I was oh so mistaken. I learned love has a time limit and that I was deficient no matter how much I sacrificed or the amount of affection I poured out. Once something holy, intimacy turned to revilement and disgust on his part. I learned that intimacy required one to force oneself to be with me.

Years passed, and I tried again. I thought love was lazy weekends on the couch and breathtaking trips to the edges of our national territory. I believed it entailed expounding on the explicate details of my life, with every nuisance and reasoning critiqued and then solemnly assuaging a perturbed attachment style. Love demanded that I refrain from certain colors of nail polish and present myself in public without makeup. Love consisted of control and boundaries I did not understand or believe in, and when I stumbled, love came with ruinous consequences. I thought love was scaring my body to prove my regret and an attempt to atone for my failing. I thought love was an ocean of tears, brutal fights, and extensive conversations that never ended in “I love you.” I learned that intimacy can be given in an attempt to fix the irreparable while leaving me crying alone in the shower afterward. I learned that in order to be loved, I had to change who I was and the goals for my life. For someone else to experience happiness, I needed to be less me. 

I did not try the third time. I fashioned my walls exceptionally high, even a mote with fearsome crocodiles. My mind was fixed and resolute as I chronicled some 60 attributes and virtues of a strong and independent woman and etched them deep into the recesses of my consciousness. My heart was impenetrable. Or so I believed.

Nevertheless, as the Fates, the gods, and perhaps even my own languishing romantic heart would have it, I found myself once more…hopelessly in love. Twitterpated, gooey, and enamored. Smitten, seduced and captivated.

Although, I was stronger this time, accepting and applying the harsh lessons of my past. I presumed to know the diverse facets of love, and I would not be fooled again. Like a string of pearls, I warily clutched my catalog of red flags, scrupulously committed to minimizing future scars and trauma. I held myself ever on edge and ready to bolt for safety at the first sign of discord. 

Yet, just as I did not have a clear grasp on the various components that constitute my life, my understanding of the possibilities of what love could be was stunted and constrained. The alternatives to my lived experience were limited to the fantasy pages of a Gail Carriger novella or the salacious drama of Netflix’s Bridgerton. I did not anticipate Love’s warm breath to whisper through my life like an unexpected Spring breeze, courting the flora into existence and thawing my heart from the frozen grasp of an unexpected winter. I have been transfixed in wonder, spellbound at the beauty blossoming around me. 

This time, I have discovered that love can be riling each other up with licentious morning messages in readiness for our pending mutual assault until my spirit crumpled in the afternoon with the stringent demands of my posting. I have witnessed love furtively search the depth of my eyes as I stepped over the stoop in the waning daylight, probing to ascertain the truth of my mental state obscured behind long lashes. Love was cautious and restrained at my entrance, heartily casting aside previous schemes, disposed to sit in the darkness and simply cherish me. Love’s reserved movements were the catalyst for my Inner Goddess’ nitroglycerin. With all its woes, the world was hastily forgotten while need encapsulated me, stimulating every nerve and muscle into ardent action. 

I captured his neck in one hand, and straining to reach him, I rose onto tiptoes, my lips gluttonous for his breath. Love needed no second invitation. I gasped at the supernatural speed with which he metamorphosized into a feral beast, grasping me about the waist, hauling me into his arms, my back noisily banging against the now-closed front door, my ankles strategically round his hips. Love ferried us to bed. Love is me giggling as I drown in the strawberry tulle of my voluminous skirt as he bats the copious film away to bury his head between my lucent thighs. 

Love is being devoutly used in nearly every conceivable position, including situated with my head lolling off the edge of the mattress and my throat rife with unceasing demand. It is riding him, my thighs glassy and sticky with our mutual release as I pant above him, glorious and exalted in my triumph. However, most importantly, I have learned that Love is far more than perennial mind-blowing and otherworldly affairs. 

Still straddling his waist, with elbows locked and palms firmly planted on his etched pectorals, my Inner Goddess implored my mind to fortify itself, steeling the gates to prevent the floodwaters of my exhaustion and distress from flooding out my hazel eyes. Dissolving into a weepy puddle mid-afterglow was no way to end a wickedly delightful and much-needed romp! As a strong, independent woman, I forbid my emotions from gaining control. After all, we had endured these many months, one exceptionally rough day was a mere blip in my universe. 

Notwithstanding, the world was heavy, and ponderous responsibility bore down on me with unprecedented gravity. When the cracked levies of my mind could no longer hold back the oppressive weight, my straining arms gave way, folding, causing my entire body to collapse, my forehead on his chest, and my bosom crushed between us. Without hesitation, Love transformed once again and dawned a distinct, gentle form. 

With exceptional tenderness, Love encircled his long arms about my burnout sobbing form, mutely silencing the chaos and soothing the demons clamoring for attention. Love consolingly listened to my broken, snuffling burbling because there was more on my mind than just one bad day; it was days of pent-up anxiety, frustration, weariness, and self-deprecation. Even as I bathed his chest in salty tears, Love listened and stroked my disheveled sapphire waves while his heartbeat crooned a lullaby until my tears finally abated.  

Even still, this brief account fails to summarize the depth and breadth of what I have discovered love can be and how love can span the distance between spoiling and doting, tender adoration, respecting my wishes, and honoring my opinions while offering unflagging reassurances. With Love, I am an equal, without condensation. Where once was submission and antiquity, feuding and appeasement, now Love is my cheerleader, confidant, and advocator. Love tells me I am treasured and have value just as I am. This Love blanches and shakes his head at the thought of diluting myself into a shadowy version of my current self. Love is driven in his career and passionate in all he undertakes. Love dawns battle armor and musters not in front of me, fighting my battles but just behind and a little to the right. I am no damsel in distress, yet he stands tall, with sword drawn at the ready as he awaits my slightest signal for aid against the black-hearted automotive corporation. 

Love is not what has been and never needs to be again. While I am still trying to fathom and make sense of what this Love means and just how to accept it, I finally see what love can and possibly should be. Though baffled and mystified, I am here for it. With my walls lowered and my heart open, I embrace it, intent on seeing all the wonder and adventures that lie on the far side of love. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie