In an earlier post (...Just a Kiss) I mentioned the previous emotionally draining weekend but not how it related to that entry. This is the promised back story of what preceded that post.
The next day, after opting out of the shamanism class, was Saturday, and though I had breathed easier Friday when that situation had been resolved, the new day brought its own special brand of nervousness. That night I would be attending my first cuddle party. Cuddle parties are what they sound like -- a party to cuddle with others -- and the idea is to allow people to experience giving and receiving affectionate touch in a safe, non-sexual environment.
I was first introduced to the existence of such events while watching the reality show Scott Baio is 45 and Single. Go ahead and laugh, but I really enjoyed the show, and despite dragging his feet and initially scoffing at some of the things he had to do, the show was initiated by Scott and chronicles his hiring a life coach to help him discover why he was 45 and single. Here was a man, a very manly man, who knew that what he was doing wasn’t working, and so sought help because he was willing to change. Have I mentioned I’m a sucker for redemption stories? Anyway, one of the things his life coach had him do was go to a cuddle party. I felt the horizons of my world expand palpably.
As I have explained to a few people, I don't have an inner child, I have an inner puppy. I love to touch and be touched. I love snuggling and cuddling. And yet I find myself holding back because of various reasons, mostly my own issues of being judged and misunderstood. On one extreme is being perceived as too soft and weak and on the other is being perceived as having ulterior motives and being a lech. I have had people lump me into both categories. Along with that is the fact of my being extremely empathic and being concerned about crossing other people's boundaries. I have a feeling I will talk about all those issues in the future, but for the time being I mention them only to show what a wonderful and welcome opportunity it is to be in an environment where those issues are nullified.
Kind of like being in the SCA, the Society for Creative Anachronisms, a medieval re-creation group I belong to. When you go to an event where everyone is there to express the ideals of chivalry and honor, I feel an ease at being able to be the person I want to be, the person I really am, because of the atmosphere and common purpose of like-minded attendees. I can just act naturally without the background white noise of “should I or shouldn’t I”. It’s like a sacred space between the worlds where the way of the world no longer holds sway.
Anyway, the nervousness I felt was laced with a definite excitement and anticipation. And once I got there, most of the nervousness subsided, seemingly being connected mostly to arriving on time -- part of setting safe, sacred space was that they were going to lock the doors at a certain time so that, though you could leave, no one else could come in. So I settled in, greeting a dear friend who was already there, and chatting with a couple people until the orientation began, and we were taken through demonstrations, and then practice runs, of asking before touching someone, saying "no", and the other points that kept everyone on the same page and safe.
That part was all fine, and then, when we were officially released to enjoy the evening, something happened with me. As the music fired up for the ecstatic dance that was the heartbeat of the event, I suddenly felt a shift. I felt like I was a teenager again at high school dances, sitting on the sidelines without the courage to ask anyone to dance. I felt totally disconnected and out of place as I tried to process the energy swirling around me. I danced a bit as I sorted it out, then finally retreated to the side of the dance floor.
There were a couple of women I was acquainted with who came up and asked to cuddle, and that was really nice. Really, really nice. For the most part, though, I spent the night sitting by myself, sometimes at the point of tears, feeling overwhelmed as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening around me, and befuddled as I tried to deal with the apparent re-emergence of puberty with all its awkwardness and lack of self-worth . The interesting thing is that, at the same time I was sitting there feeling this cavacade of emotions, on some level I realized it was okay to be feeling these things. They were coming up to be cleared out. This didn't necessarily ease the feelings any, but it kept me from fighting them and trying to counter act them by purposely going out and asking someone to cuddle. More than likely that would have back-fired anyway because it would have been coming from an attitude of neediness.
At one point I noticed a woman who I had seen earlier, on her own and seemingly not having a good time, sitting by herself out in the lobby area. Recognizing the look on her face and the tightness with which she was holding herself, I felt compelled to check on her. "Are you alright?" "No." "Need to talk about it?" "I just had a really rough week, and wasn't really prepared for this. I'm feeling really out of place." "You're not the only one who's feeling that way," I assured her, "And, if you need a friend, or someone to sit with or talk to, come find me." She thanked me as I smiled at her and left her with her own thoughts and feelings.
More sitting alone, with intermittant dancing (where I had to refrain from 'dancing my guides' like we had learned in shaman class. Eagle started to come through and I was afraid he'd hit someone on the crowded dance floor when he attempted to flap his 'wings'.) and just being with these uncomfortable feelings. In hindsight I realized the blessing of being in such a place to feel safe to allow these feelings room to move and flow.
Then toward the end of the night, my friend who had volunteered for the evening, came by, rather frazzled and overwhelmed herself by the experience, and after she spent some time in the designated grounding area, we found a spot and cuddled together for a little while. That was probably the best part of my night, and I think I really needed that familar connection and physical reassurance. I hope it helped her too.
Again I found myself sitting alone. I wanted so badly to hold and be held, to touch and be touched, all the while fully cognizant of my state of neediness -- not wanting to ask from that place, and hoping no one would pity me either. I also recognized the desire to be validated by someone else -- to have my self-worth determined by others' thoughts and actions. Definitely shades of puberty!
While I sat there I also realized certain boundaries I had. Although ultimately I believe it possible to connect with anyone, to see the divine light in every person, I needed to have a certain connection with someone to feel totally comfortable cuddling with them. That was actually one of the purposes of being there too, discovering and examining boundaries that I had never experienced before.
And as I sat there, tears threatening to flow forth at any moment, the woman I'd interacted with in the lobby came over and sat down next to me on the steps where I was, and just started talking about stuff -- tattoos, Aphrodite, science fiction, everything. Again tears welled up, but this time in gratitude. That was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me, and as the singing bowl rang out, signaling the end of the night, I thanked her for doing for me what I had offered to her. And I collected the hug she was too uncomfortable to give at our first interaction.
Everyone circled up to breathe together and close the event, and I found my friend again to touch base before heading home. Despite her own emotional struggles with the evening, she asked if I needed to talk. I hesitantly ascented, not wanting to take her away from her volunteer duties but wanting to connect, so she took my hand and led me to a semi-private space at the back of the room. Clumsily I tried to explain what I was feeling, saying I felt like I wasted the whole night. She looked at me, holding my eyes for a moment then said, "You showed up." A simple statement, but it hit home. Again I was not giving myself the credit for the courage it took just to come to an event like this. "Oh yeah, huh." She nodded smiling, and I couldn't help smiling myself. "What?" she asked. "Nothing," I shyly replied, looking down. "No, what?" She asked again, curiously. I looked in her eyes. There was a momentary pause as I weighed what I was about to say, then just blurted it out -- "You're beautiful." It registered on her face what I had said, and she looked away saying, "I'm not sure what to do with that."
"Crap!" I thought. "Here we go again." I had lost a friend once because, near as I've been able to sort out, I had complimented her eyes and she thought I was coming onto her. Fortunately, this friend was different -- Way different! She reassured me we were alright, and we parted ways, she to help clean up and me to go home.
The way home was a blur of tears, roller-coasting emotions, and organic oreo-type cookies.
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