Diary of a Nymphomaniac

Color me introspective.

My divorce has always, in my mind, been the jumping point for my discovery into my self.  Though, I can assume that some of the self I'm so happy with is the self that evolved during my marriage.  After cobbling my self-esteem back together and venturing out, hand shielding my eyes from the light of the real world, I have struggled with one specific piece of myself.

My sexuality.

For the past few years I have collected a seemingly large number of partners (always safely) whilst dodging mostly self fired shots at what that collection meant about me.  Having been raised LDS, one partner should've been enough for me, but it wasn't.  There's so much to try and so much to explore and from day one I wanted to do this, albeit on my terms.  Living in a conservative state, with conservative friends and a conservative upbringing I allowed myself to internalize the condemnation, verbalized or not, that was offered up to me in response to the cataloging of my experiences.  Particularly recently as I ventured into the world of "the other woman."  I've found myself justifying and rationalizing my desires and my adventures, to my friends and to myself, as though I had somehow to answer to the lot of us for what it was I'm doing.

I've had so many experiences now, some amazing, some horrid.  Some funny, some sad and some punishable by damnation at the very least.  But inside, while my face registered some guilt or shame for what I'd done, my soul was rejoicing in the experience.  I'd been cheated on in the past but now I've been the other woman and while the world is telling me I should feel guilty, my heart is telling me I shouldn't.  I acted willfully, knowingly and with the intent to dive into the experience head first and go where it takes me, let it teach me something that I can't otherwise have known.

There have been younger and older, wiser and weaker, gentle and forceful, caring and callous but every time there has been growth, expansion and acceptance.

But despite the passion in my soul for sex and my sexuality, I have allowed what I've been taught and what my peers, even my dearest friends, think and feel to color my response to my actions.  I've belittled my own desires based on what someone else tells me they should be.

And then, in a lonely hour on a lonely night in a lonely home filled with lonely thoughts, I settled into my couch and turned on a movie.

Diary of a Nymphomaniac.

In the final strains of a film that resonated in my heart, I heard my anthem.

"I'm a promiscuous woman, yes, because I want to use sex as a means to find what everyone is looking for.  Recognition, pleasure, self-esteem and, in short, love and affection.  What's pathological about that?  If you want to give me a name, go on, I don't mind.  But you must know I'm really a mermaid, a dryad, simply a nymph."

This is who I am.  A nymph, a mermaid.  Color me however you need, paint me in your limited palate but this,  this is who I am and I will no longer feel your guilt or your shame.  I am a siren and a seductress, a giver and a taker, a gift, a goddess, a potential home wrecker and a thief.

I am me and this is what I do and this brings me joy.  This chase for pleasure and love and affection and self-esteem, this is how I run it.

To quote one of my all-time favorite authors in my absolute favorite book -

"I will not go gently onto a shelf, degutted, to become a non-book.  All you umpires, back to the bleachers.  Referees, hit the showers.  It's my game.  I pitch, I hit, I catch.  I run the bases.  At sunset I've won or lost.  At sunrise, I'm out again, giving it the old try.  And no one can help me.  Not even you."