Saying goodbye to her was much more painful than I ever imagined it would be. Soon she was the one who protected me SO MUCH.
I met her as a child. Maybe the beginning of adolescence, such a vulnerable phase in the life of a woman, I mean, girl. There are so many worries at this time, first menstruation, boyfriends, lack of understanding, and desire to find out what sex is about. She was there, protecting me from the greatest dangers I could face.
I never imagined she would leave me. I didn’t even understand that there was something wrong with our relationship. There was no longer any distinction between where I was and where she was. Where did I start, where did she act?
The pain of seeing her leave brought many tears to my eyes, and it had been so long since I had cried. It had been so long since I “didn’t feel it”.
Our relationship was so intense that I had lost my individuality, and she lost hers, to the point that I no longer knew how to name her. And when I told a friend about my grief, she was the one who managed to say the name of the person who was leaving:
“The promiscuous”
It hurt because with her departure she showed me how much she protected me from one of my biggest fears: rape. I always said that I would never be raped, because after all, I love sex so much, I would just relax and try to enjoy it. That way I would never be raped if the rapist had my consent.
But I discovered that the abuse happened even when I gave consent, but because what was nourished by my yes was actually a lack of self-esteem; frustration that made me seek punishment; the desire to have stories to belong to the coolest groups; fear of facing loneliness; ways to escape my obligations and responsibilities that scare me so much.
She also protected me from feeling the pain. After all, the person most likely to commit betrayal was me. Well, she and I had grown up in a society where “no matter what you do, men will always cheat”; where men compete for female bodies as trophies (maybe if I’m the collector, I won’t become a collectible).
We both grew up watching our male friends abuse the innocence of women in love, for fun. So we chose to have fun. Be your fun.
She protected me from the lies. Because she taught me all of them, in practice. She taught me to notice the signs. Sniffing out inconsistencies. Feeling, long before, the time to leave (almost always the next morning).
She helped me with expectations. If I’m the one who won’t respond, if I’m the one who ignores, if I’m the indifferent one… none of this will hurt. Never. Because I won’t feel.
She protected me so much that I can’t help but cry to see her go. I almost ask her to stay. But as she taught me, this disappointment also passes, and no one dies of love (at least not of the love that was not loved).
I cried because I saw that in truth, she protected me so much, she protected me from love. And I, who always thought I felt, found such a huge void, due to the lack of memories of true affection.
I cried for the first time in a long time, and seeing her leave… I felt it.
And how you taught me to let go. I let you go too.
Goodbye to the version of me that was once promiscuous.
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Text was written in February 2024 by Milla Dalbem.
Part of the spiritual diet with Bobinsana.
Picture taken by Alice Pepplow
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Note:
1. my period was very late. And on the journey with the mermaid, she told me that I would only menstruate when I was ready to say goodbye to the devil.
2. The friend who nominated her was Dani Soares. My eternal gratitude for being able to say the name I couldn’t say, my period came exactly afterward. You were important to my healing
