The time spent in my first place, that tiny, one-bedroom, upstairs flat on Truslow street with no air-conditioning, and that fold-out-of-the-wall ironing board that we used as a kitchen table, was the place and time in my life where I started to feel physically free. My body and I had never got on very well. Most of the time I had been in numb, shutdown mode, due to a combination of childhood abuse, rape, and the enormous self-esteem issues I carried around with me fueled by growing up among a cabal of Orange County mean teen girls (i.e. skinny, rich and again, mean).

I had no idea how to feel anything with my body, not really.

Sure, I had come out of my previous self-contained shell of anxiety and shyness in the few years prior. Traipsing around in Hollywood, going to a variety of clubs, and meeting an even wider variety of people, had really helped me shape a re-defined me. I had changed so many things about myself: the way I dressed, talked, carried myself, and perceived myself and the world. I did not want to hideaway from the world. I wanted to be out in it.

That said, my body was still a labyrinth of mystery and the unknown to me. I was still so full of fear and trauma that I had no idea how to really physically feel anything.

Moving into that place, having my own space (even if I was sharing it with another), was the most physically empowering moment, thus far, in my life.  The two of us, in that apartment, we were a couple of lovers, and a couple of ex-prisoners recently released from our dysfunctional families. We were basking in our newly found freedom, trying it, and each other, and writing our own stories in our shared space, and on each other’s bodies.

We were some kind of post-modern Henry Miller and Anais Nin, and even though we knew the downfalls and failures, as well as the fantasies, we still embraced it. I learned how to feel during that time. I discovered what I liked and did not like, and how to accept pleasure, as well as give it. Each and every day, and night, during that time was an awakening for me, and a peace treaty (and a light up, oh wow, experience) with my body.

The downfalls came, as did the failures. We could have predicted it, I am quite sure, but I do not think we wanted to look that far ahead. Regardless, for today, in this piece of memory, and in the context of this song, I want to recall the gifts we gave each other then. And, Iwant to remember what part of the woman I am today was sketched out and started in that in that tiny, upstairs, one-bedroom on Truslow street.

Love My Way :: The Psychedelic Furs

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