Healer’s Heart

I know I’ve talked about this before, but one of the things that my heart’s happiness hinges on is healing other people. In fact, my Myers-Briggs profile is actually called “Healer Idealist” – I’m an INFP or Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving person. You can read all over the internet about Jungian personality types and it’s really interesting. At times in my life I have swapped between Perceiving and Judging, but I’m only a judger when no one else around is being anlalytical and I get pushed in that role in a group setting. At the very core of my being, I’m a healer. That’s what inspired me to call myself the “butch whisperer” – because it felt like my careful, loving manner has drawn so much pain out of the pores of broken people. I would like to think that they are better for it. Crave. Autumn. Marian who has broken down talking to me on the phone twice. And last night, Kelly, whose tender heart simply needed company.

We lay snuggling and kissing in her bed until 5:30 this morning when I finally convinced my mind to shut off. She’s been with boys – one boy in particular – for a long time. Having a bit of trouble detaching from him because his tentacles have seeped into her life and put her in a vise grip. Getting out of his sphere of influence is infinitely easier said than done. She’s with a boy, but she is quite certain of her affection for women. Unfortunately all of her physical experiences with women have been in the company of said boy – and, if there was one, the boyfriend of the other girl involved. I call him a boy because he is a big 30 year old baby. An absolute child. He needs her like he needs air to breath and food to eat. without her affections. It is that male parasitism on females that I have talked about – how men, denied the company and tender loving care of women, fall into desperate disrepair.

She’s a precious girl, precious, lovely, sweet and valuable person with so much love and affection to give and it has been wasted for such a long time on someone completely unappreciative. She’s full of compliments, loves to make sure that everyone feels comfortable, and has a lot of trouble looking out for herself at times. Kelly has been undergoing a lot of physical renovation lately and I’m happy and excited to be able to afford her some positivity about her shape. I simply love bodies, and in my short time learning to be a beautiful “baby lover” I’ve seen a whole vast range of shapes and sizes… making other people feel desired or appreciated makes me myself feel even more beautiful as a person…

She kept thanking me for staying, I shielded her from having to confront the monstrous mess this boy has caused, I distracted her heart from sadness. She’s beautiful, so beautiful and I’m pleased to have met her.
But tell me. How come all the new friends I’m making end up somehow in my bed or theres, basically right away. Is there a problem with this? Or is this just what my heart wants to do? To heal through talking and touching, breathing and moving? Best kind of healing in my opinion. The basis of all the problems we have with our sense of self in Western society originates with our bodies, so why not start healing from there? It just makes sense to me.

I’d like to do some more exploring with Kelly. We slept in her bed and felt, again, that incautious trust that I have gotten so accustomed to giving to others. It was a safe night of company, so that neither of us had to sleep alone, it was very peaceful. You may be wondering how Miss Avarice, self professed bottom, infamous pillow queen (according to some 😉 biased sources), lover of butches could be interested in more exploration with a bisexual femme [bottom] (are there any truly bisexual butches? it seems possible as a theory, but I’ve never heard of it in practice). Well. I do need topping practice, and this pretty femme could use a little bit of girl sex, loosen her up a bit. She’s had her wild phase and maybe she thought it was over. I can fix that! It’s never to late for shameless self loving or an imprudent search for personal satisfaction, is it? I think not.

We’re going to see Ani in two weeks – hurrah!


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