The sexual meditation that taught me how to love myself better.

There was a moment back in the early winter of 2019 where I was hurting and lonely, starved out on a lot of levels, feeling rejected and denied, thirsty and needy. I was struggling with feelings of unworthiness and rage bricked behind a thick wall of pent up lust and frustration. My head felt like it could have imploded with everything I was feeling.

But then I walked past the main room mirror on the wall. I stopped, looked in the mirror, and saw myself. I walk pass this mirror everyday, this is a small flat and I’m practically a hermit, and every day I see my image walk across it with me.

In previous years, I winced at what I saw. There were days where I saw a shadow of what I used to be, a ghost or a zombie, something not quite alive, not quite there. There were days where I saw a fighter, someone who needed to always be alert to protect what mattered most. There were days were I saw a failure, someone who failed to save their family, someone who failed to end the cycle of abuse for so many people, someone who was failing to properly take care of the one they cared about the most. There were days where “I” wasn’t really there at all, something looked into the mirror and something looked back with twisted facial expressions and wet, wide, red eyes.

But in that moment in 2019, when I looked into the mirror then, I saw something new. At first I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, this piqued my curiosity. I made eye contact with myself, and I let my mind flood with all of the fantasies I had then. I witnessed what those fantasies did to my face and my body, and I was captivated.

I loosened my jaw and mouth and maintained eye contact as my reflection spoke to me,”These things that you dream up, those words of affection that you write, the artwork that you make of him in your mind, this is beautiful. You’ve not been treated well for many years, for many reasons. You don’t deserve mistreatment.”

This was profound, in the mirror I saw this beautiful wounded individual who had a lot of love and kindness, and when she felt that love she looked so, sexy. I saw this sexy and worthwhile individual and in that moment I couldn’t believe how neglected she was.

I continued this experiment, I knew what she wanted, what she needed, and I wanted to give that to her. I turned on some music on my mp3 player, and I watched her body move and sway. I discovered then that I was good at dancing. As she danced, she pulled off her shirt seductively, then her pants. As I watched how she moved in the mirror, how she undressed herself, I felt myself wanting her more, wanting to hold her, kiss her, taste her. I wanted to make her fantasies real.

I put my imagination to work and I took her to bed with a hand mirror.

I laid supine in my bed and brought the mirror up to my face, to see her up close. Fantasies played out in our minds, and the faces she made…I nearly hit myself in the face when I tried to close in for a kiss. It tasted of cold, flat glass, this broke the immersion a bit so I went a different route.

I tilted the mirror to show me the rest of her, that neck, those collarbones, her skin. That bra was in the way, so I watched her slowly peel it off. Those breasts, she was judged so harshly for her breasts growing up, in that moment I saw how cruel that judgement was. They were enticing, my hands cupped them, caressed them, that warmth was intense. It was exciting to touch myself in that way while watching the same thing in the mirror. I was becoming my own lover.

Our hands kept touching, lower and lower, until they reached cotton panties, those too were in the way. We peeled them off together, smiling. I took a deep breath and let my legs open wide, then lowered the mirror to see.

There was a source of shame and fear, that place, but the mirror showed something else, it showed organic beauty, wet and needy. The mirror showed a body, a person, in need and deserving of love and love making, so we embraced one another through the night.

We climaxed together, and warmth filled us both. The warmth of self acceptance and self love. With the stress of it all for so long, this moment got too buried, too lost in it all.

This is what I chase when I chase the wrong faces, this moment that I can have with myself at any time. When his or other faces pop up, they are only the picture of a carrot, a picture that distracts me from the garden at my feet.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/otvjig/the_sexual_meditation_that_taught_me_how_to_love