This is the first in a series of letters to my lover who has yet to manifest directly in front of me.
Harnessing the powers of thought and manifestation, let this be a siren call and insight into the daily musings and self-work it takes to bring forth a great love who will serve as the greatest reflection of each of us—for better and for worse.
(Smile, big squeeze, and a smooch). Did you totally slay your day today?
I’m reading this book that was first recommended to me about six years ago and I dismissed it. Recommended again this week, I finally downloaded it to my iPad, The Way of the Superior Man by David Deida. I’m on page 55 and it’s mind-blowing.
Take a swim in my eyes for a moment while I share with you all I’m learning. I love it when you do that.
Recall how I mentioned my dad was maybe, just a teeny weeny bit of a misogynist? A self-made corporate man who cut his chops in the feminist era of the 1960s? He meant well for his only child—a daughter. At least, I’d like to think he meant well.
I spent my first quarter century on the planet despising and trying to conceal and overcome my gender. I was reared to put aside “weaker” feminine traits in order to run with the bulls and thrive in an aggressive male-dominated corporate work environment. This served me well for the decade of my 20s.
By 30, my former spouse and I had amassed a robust start to our retirement fund, and built a large home. As a young girl, I never once considered being a wife and mother—but dreamed about careers.
When I matured into my 30s and bore children attended by midwives, I stood in absolute awe of the feminine as the wise sage femmes watched over me in my home-birth labors of suffering. So, I began a quest to understand, play in, and love all the more varied, complex, and chaotic parts of myself that I had felt embarrassed of before.
My quest for evolution into a full, more complete, authentic version of myself reverberated through all aspects of my life. It involved a departure from my corporate financial career and morphed into serving other women, in the manner I had experienced, by ultimately becoming a midwife.
I brought my children into the home to be educated by me, supported my spouse’s professional intentions, created beautiful floral and vegetable gardens, and shifted into becoming as resourceful as I could around the home. Logically, this journey into a more traditional woman should have had positive and strengthening effects on my marriage, but rather, brought about its demise.
My abandonment of the exterior shell I wore and adornment of all things soft and colorful and feminine changed the way I behaved in my marriage. It shifted the expectations and hopes I had of my union with my partner.
The woman I was becoming and the deep connection I now sought with my partner was too unfamiliar and frankly, terrifying, for him to navigate at the pace I was demanding. And, the more assertive masculine aspects of me hung on stubbornly and emerged in the most sensitive, painful communication threads with my partner, pushing him further away.
But, the liberation from the shackles that bound me to my prior existence screamed, “Change, or die!”
What this means for you, is that I have to learn how to show up for you differently than I’ve ever shown up for any man before. While I’ve been in touch with my authentic self for many years, I haven’t had the opportunity to stretch my feminine legs and feel safe and accepted in a committed, intimate relationship with a man.
Please be patient with me while I work out how to just bask in, and receive, all you are offering me, rather than think my way through this and give too much of myself away to you or the relationship. Doing so would be toxic and you would ultimately hate me for that. I want to leave the thinking up to you while I do the feeling part.
It’s hard for me to step aside. I mean, for a long time, I’ve been killing the spiders, taking the cars and lawn equipment in for repair, taking out the trash, growing my own career, running camping trips, tuning skis, managing my family resources, guiding us all spiritually, thinking my way through parenting, figuring out how to best support my family, and other roles that a man might normally fill. I want to feel that it’s okay and safe to shut this aspect of my brain off completely at times—to be with you, and that the wheels won’t come off the bus for me.
I want to feel safe just by being in your presence, because you get what I’m saying—whether I use words or my body language. I want to feel your masculine energy because you understand your purpose in the world or you’re trying hard to find it.
I will feel this, and the feminine in me will trust you implicitly because of your effort toward your purpose. It is then that she will reveal herself to you. I will trust you when you revere and consult with me in many things, but stand up to me and deviate sometimes, not for the sake of doing so, but because you trust yourself and you’re in tune with your spirit that governs all of your actions.
I will trust you because you will never put me, or our relationship, above your overall higher purpose in the world. We can run in tandem with these things of yours, but never compete. In this way, my feminine will be in awe of your masculine and they will decide that there is strength together more so than alone and she will fully show up, maybe for the first time, because she feels safe and trusts you.
We can finally abandon the lonely task of wearing both gender energies out of spiritual, emotional, and sometimes financial necessity. We can finally rest in each other.
What I want to feel is an intense level of trust between us where I can feel safely dominated by you until I melt into a puddle and let all my daily cares and burdens completely go. That space where I get to be the sacred vessel into which you escape from the battlefield that is your world and just—replenish.
I invite you to show me how this is to be done. I feel ready.
The feminine by your side
P.S. On repeat on my playlist while I scribed tonight was “Tilted” by Christine and the Queens.
Author: Heather Whitley
Editor: Lieselle Davidson