Sleeping Tiger
Day 15Reconciling The Changes
Tactile sensations
Images
About the new phase
ASFEO
The other night – I can’t remember exactly which night it was, but it was this week – we had been engaging in a bit of late night texting back and forth and when I turned out the lights and settled for sleep, I lay on my side facing the middle of the bed, lower arm outstretched. I closed my eyes and saw you mirroring me. I recall it took an awful long time for our fingers to touch. I think I may have been running it in slow motion in my mind, or maybe I was replaying it over and over. I savoured the image.
About a week ago, I became aware of a change that had happened.
When we finally shifted to this latest, astoundingly amazing phase of our relationship and ended up spending a short series of nights together, I was amazed at how quickly having you in my arms at night – touching you, being touched, reaching for you – became comfortable after years of sleeping alone and undisturbed. Not just comfortable; desirable, normal. Right.
Then I left and I was back to the old normal. It should have been easy to revert to “single” sleep, but the intensity of the senses allowed me to feel you when you weren’t there. Think of it like a dish that is barely simmering on the hob. You can’t smell anything. You take a spoon to stir it, and it releases gases trapped within and then you can smell the aroma of the cooking. Now transmute that from the olfactory sense to the somatosensory sense. That’s what was happening.
But like a fire that doesn’t quite light – the flame catches and flares, but it doesn’t reach a critical point and gradually dies out – this sensation, this ability to feel that sensation, faded. I was concerned, initially, when I realized I could no longer feel you in absentia. I struggled to retrieve the physical experience, but couldn’t. However, the reason I can tell you about this now is that I realise it is just a residual physical memory phenomenon. My thoughts and emotions continue as before and I can still recall or create images, such as I describe above.
This new phase of us will allow me to grow more and become more…I nearly said “complete”, but that sounds too much like a line from a movie. Never mind the “and.” It will allow me to grow more. There is but one thing I ask of you. I just ask that you love me and let me love you. The rest will take care of itself.
Yesterday and the day before, I was thinking about things and this was something I wanted to say to you, but I thought the journal would be a better place for this to reside than an email, certainly far better than a text.
This morning, when I just had to write and post, one of my recurring sayings came to mind again: A song for every occasion.
Jessica Luxmoore on 19 February, 2020 at 12:08 (Edit)
I can’t believe I haven’t commented here. My pulse has quickened for five years seeing Tim Ellis in my inbox.
My heart did another backflip when I read this. You do this to me so easily, and so often.
So this is the song for this occasion:
And as soon as I wrote “love me and let me love you” this next song tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I believe you were looking for me.” (I prefer George Benson’s version, but this is a beautiful version and I think you’ll prefer it)
How did I get so lucky as to meet you?
You don’t need to be concerned.
I love you, I trust you with all my heart and almost because you love me so deeply and without conditions. This is an honour.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again., my Tim.?. We are remarkably lucky to have what we have. I believe few have it.
I love these pictures.
You are so the lion with a big heart and softness but a power too that I don’t believe you recognise.
I want to make love to you.
A Song For Every Occasion ! ??
I want to add to this now. This has been on my mind for a day or three, share? not share?
“I was concerned, initially, when I realized I could no longer feel you in absentia. I struggled to retrieve the physical experience, but couldn’t. However, the reason I can tell you about this now is that I realise it is just a residual physical memory phenomenon.”
I too am in this space, those four days seem so far away. Did they happen, did we imagine them? Did we both just dream the same dream? You feel really far away. This is our longest time apart in a year. I’m encouraged to wonder if this is what it felt like when I would go back to school. Memories of home and touch and sounds and comfort turning into a haze – untouchable, where is home? I’d settle into a new rhythm, routine, two separate worlds. Two separate worlds is a phrase I have used for a very long time. Life in England/Life in Austalia. Life at home/Life at school. Life with Nick/Life with James.
I’ve realised what the pain is. It’s not about rejection, it’s not about abandonment. It’s the feeling of being forgotten. That’s the feeling that was the precursor to my sashay with my shadow; the stealth shadow. As I have told you before, but we haven’t explored this topic much together, letters were very rare from mum, if anything it was a postcard. Although my dear Granny wrote every week, this didn’t fill the void. I felt forgotten whilst I was away. How did this impact my behaviour as an adult? I balanced many, many friends ensuring no one felt forgotten, checking in on so many people regularly. My life revolved around keeping many balls in the air, ensuring many felt loved. I can only deduce that I felt forgotten and correlated that with not feeling/being loved. It’s simple really, isn’t it, we all just want to feel loved, safe.
I have been musing this space that I am in now. I know you haven’t forgotten me, you’re extraordinary at the effort you have made in messaging, journaling, and emailing. But am I conditioned to such an extent that the words can’t penetrate what only physicality can? As humans, the physical connection is the cornerstone. Fleetingly I am tethered to you when we speak and then gradually the thread unravels and I’m floating again – looking for you through the mist.
I love that you are the baby in your family, hanging with the fam, safe, relishing this time. I love that you have made so many typos in your writing, and you don’t care about being sloppy, now. You’re in such a space that you ask me a question, I give you the answer and then you forget you asked the question and ask it again – I think you are at peace. I think I add to this peace too, you found me and you know I see you, and you love that. You are at a wonderful time in your life.
My point: yes I am sharing but only because that’s what we do. Not because I want you to feel sad about me feeling like I am drifting in the mist because I am alright, I am just honing into what I am feeling and trying to articulate it for you. I’m struggling to tell you that I love you, to speak intimately to you because I am grappling to find that you in my psyche. But Tim – my friend – he’s there, my bestie. I know him. I know I will thrive with your holding and I ‘ll gently melt and reconnect but slowly slowly…
A remarkable comment.
We will reconnect at whatever pace is right. We will be fine. Just fine.
The time away was meant to be my own litmus test for me. The change in our relationship so shortly ahead of me leaving meant it was to be a different kind of test, which neither of us are enjoying. Yet this comment shows that there are unexpected benefits to come out of it.
These insights we gain help us grow spiritually. Sharing them is important. It’s good that we can stimulate and support each other’s growth. We are good for each other.
https://miscellaneousstuff.s3.amazonaws.com/05+Feel+Like+Makin'+Love.mp3