Reclaiming My Body

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Today I did something I’ve never done before.
I touched myself—not to escape, not to fantasise, not to numb—but to connect.
And for the first time, I stayed fully present through all of it.

I touched the parts of myself that made me feel wanted—by me.
Not for anyone else’s gaze. Not to prove anything. Just because… I’m allowed to.

And it was surreal.
Not because it was wild or intense, but because it was real.

I’ve spent so many years disconnected from my body.
Even when I was in great shape, I never let myself see my own beauty.
Never appreciated how good it feels to be in my skin, as I am.
To say out loud, even now:
I have a beautiful body. I’m a beautiful human. I’m sexual. I’m primal. I’m sensual.

And saying that still feels strange—but it also feels freeing.

I’m not trying to master my sexuality. I’m just meeting it.
And honestly? I like who I’m meeting.

What’s scarier is the thought of sharing that with someone one day.
Letting them know that I’m still discovering this part of me.
That I’ve never really explored my sensuality with another person.
That I’m a bit naive in that way—but also open, curious, excited.

And maybe that’s what real intimacy looks like:
Not being polished, but being present.
Not knowing everything, but wanting to discover it together.

This moment wasn’t about climax.
It was about not abandoning myself.
And I didn’t.

For the first time, I felt what it means to be with myself—completely.