I must confess… I have struggled to fully embrace my sensuality. Being shaped by a religious upbringing, and only having two real romantic relationships (one in my early 20s and another in my late 30s), makes me realize the lack of love experiences I’ve had so far in this lifetime. The absence of deep, sustained love… of being held, touched, and cherished in romance, has left me feeling speechless. And now, as I stand at the sacred threshold of 40 on March 5, I feel a shift.
Grief and longing intertwine, urging me to alchemize my hidden ache into outward pleasure. I crave intimacy—not just to be seen, but to be felt, touched, and held. For the past few months, I’ve realized I have to reclaim my sexuality and hold myself into pleasure.
Perhaps this is the deeper calling I’ve been needing all along. Entering my midlife era revealing the sensual aspects of me. To be seen, accepted, and celebrated in my fullness. To bloom like a rose… soft yet powerful, unfolding in its own time.
This is my Sunday morning confession: an unraveling, an invitation, an awakening.
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