Monday, August 23, 2010

Ghost

He has been haunting my dreaming of late. Nightmarish visions of the man I met at a tender age, of the man who shared my life for over a decade, of the man I promised to marry, of the man I loved, of the man I renounced.

In my waking hours, the spectre of our relationship, the moments, images, snapshots of a time together since past, flash before my eyes, colouring my day, forcing me back to memories sweet yet hurtful and numbing. In my mind’s eye, I see our tiny flat by the sea, the laughter, the music, the dancing, the fucking. I see our reunion years down the track after our separation, both a little worldlier, both humbled and seasoned by experience and heartbreak and age. I see the two versions of our selves and the palpable attraction that coursed between us, the unfathomable chemistry that crazed mind and flesh alike.

And in the pit of my stomach, I feel, at a strange remove, the sexual rejection, the withdrawal of affection, the emotional cruelty, the arguments, the silence, the recriminations, the fear and alienation and eventual loathing. On days such as this, I recall the way he would point out my flaws just as my lips would brush against that soft spot on his neck and my hands worked their way down from his shoulders to his chest to his hips. It had the desired effect, his criticism. Red-faced and wounded, I would leave him be. As he rolled over and fell instantly into sleep, I would lay back, my sex and tears pounding and hot, and consider how I could possibly transform myself into the image of perfection he so obviously longed for and required.

I have come to realise these exchanges were just as much about him as they were about me. They were called up to diffuse my voracious sexual appetite, to reign in the fluid and varied nature of my passion, to assuage the guilt of his infidelities, to temper the frustration and anguish of his own insecurities. They were strategically mobilised just as I was coming into myself and just as he was feeling lost and out to sea.

The pen and page have, for the most part, resisted him. There is but a mere whiff of him here. The words have not cared for his presence; they have not cared to bring him back to (my) life or the site of my rebirth. But my thoughts have turned to him once more, sparked by these dreams as well as conversations with friends and lovers new.

As I think back on him, I recognise he was a necessary chapter, an essential encounter, as without him, without our stunning and broken love affair, I would not be the woman I am today. I would not be the woman daring to embrace her carnal excesses, her fervour and abandon, her beautifully imperfect mind, body and soul. While there are days where his voice rings in my ears, where his whispers callously taunt, they are fewer and far between.

For now I as look upon the woman reflected back at me, as I submerge myself in the eroticism of posing for the camera, as I watch my hands linger over the body of a lover as well as my own, as I immerse myself in the sensual and the primal, as I live and breathe and write and fuck and come, I see the beginnings of the woman I always longed to be.

In writing these words, in bringing him into the light, into the glow of the screen, my true hope is to set the last of him free, relegating his phantom to another sphere with understanding, with gratitude, with love.

13 comments:

The Muffin Fan said...

And oh how you've blossomed, Enchantrix.

This is a beautiful, and revealing piece. Out of everything you've done so far with this fantastic blog of yours, I think this one is my very favorite.

I feel a bit of your pain, your anguish, your joy, and your hope. What more could a writer ask of her audience?

Advizor said...

This is painful, erotic, honest, healing, and wonderfully freeing all at once. But what a bastard.

Just A. Girl said...

Lovely to hear about a chapter from your past.

The Panserbjørne said...

It must have been difficult as hell to write this. I envision you parked at the keyboard, writing and rewriting and deleting over and over. "So many decisions, a million revisions, the choice between darkness and light", as Neil Peart wrote.

Darkness in your past aside, I'm so glad you've come out into the light. What he did to you was monstrous, but you refused to break under it and rose above instead.

I hope this works out just as you'd hoped: setting the last shreds of that phantom to rest.

Thanks for sharing this most intimate bit of your past with us. It hurts to read, but paradoxically it brings up memories of former lovers I've had as well -- not all of them bad experiences, either.

-- PB

Southern Sage said...

perfectly stated CM. I hope this puts an end to him.

Green Eyed Frenchy said...

This is a very moving and personal post. I never thought you would dare telling so much of yourself. It is beautiful and sad, but you seem to have grown and yes, it is time to let him drift into the past. I wish you a lot of strength and hapiness. Even if you think you are imperfect - nobody is perfect - you are a beatiful person in many aspects, believe me! I wish you the best of luck for the future.

Supercock said...

What a wonderful post, heart wrenching though.

JM said...

The emotional brutality of what you have described here is something that rings true to my heart, having been through a similar experience. I applaud the courage you have shown through this experience, and your conviction to letting the past go where it belongs. A wonderful post, may you bask in the empowerment of self discovery as you journey forward and onwards.
JM xx

Jillian said...

Our path is but one and it is ours alone. To be shared all to briefly in the unions of heart, body and soul. Set adrift to mourn the loss no matter how brief or how long and yet always wanting to know who we are even when we do not know where we are going.

My heart to yours, Jillian

Dewey's System said...

The paragraph about recognizing someone as an essential part of our past, as well as our present shows you much maturity I think you have. In spite of all the memories and pain you are who you are due in some small measure to that person. That experience that relationship propels you to become more of who you are and who you want to be. I feel some sadness in reading this but I also feel joy for you as you open up new chapters and embrace your future. Amazing introspection.

Cheeky Minx said...

Muffin: I'm so glad to hear this piece has become your new favourite. And you're right, I couldn't possibly ask for any more or anything better...

Advizor: It is wonderful to hear that this piece manages to encompass all of these facets.

And bastard, yes. And no. In hindsight, it is clear he wasn't all that good at coping with his demons.

Just A. Girl: Thank you so much...

PB: You know me well, PB. This was a difficult piece to write in an emotional sense, even if it was cathartic. Oddly enough, there weren't a million rewrites, just breaks in the proceedings in order to allow the memories to flood and subside.

Thank you so much for your words (and support). I had a feeling this piece might resurrect some of your ghosts (friendly or otherwise) from relationships past...

Sage: I do too. Thank you, cowboy...

Frenchy: I also didn't think I would dare to bring this painful apsect out into the light. But I'm so very glad I did.

Thank you so much, gorgeous one, for your incredible wishes and support.

Supercock: I'm glad to report the heartache has long since past. Thank you so much...

JM: While it saddens me to hear you've had a similar experience, I find comfort in knowing I can 'meet' someone who has lived this and is in the process of renewal. Thank you for your kind wishes...

Jillian: You are quite right, it most certainly is an interesting and unique path we all tread. And it is all bound up in the exciting, frightening, enlightening road to self-discovery. Thank you...

Dew: I'm so happy you feel the joy of my rebirth as well as the sadness. I figured you would understand just how vital our past loves and wounds are to the beings we are (or, are trying to be) in the present. Thank you so much, Dewberry...

xxxx

Spring Flower said...

I am late commenting, but I had to. This was so beautifully written, full of emotions, passion and hope.

And these words "I see the beginnings of the woman I always longed to be"... it gives me hope. Thank you.

Cheeky Minx said...

You're never too late as far as I'm concerned, SF.

And it is me who should be giving thanks - for your wonderful words of praise, for the hope that phrase has inspired in you...