—EASLY LIKE SUNDAY MORNING AND WILD LIKE SATURDAY NIGHT

 

 

GETTING OFF / Erica Garza

 

 

Here is what I have learned about traumas. Trauma can be ordinary.

 

I’d rather stick with the thing that gets me off—I’m bad, bad, bad.

 

I romanticized brokenness as a means of resisting change.

 

All the best writers had rough childhoods.

 

There are some things in life you don’t remember, no matter how hard you try.

 

And then there are those things we cannot forget, memories we play over and over in our heads because they have a history of significance in them—they make us who we are.

 

“This is an important word,” she started. “Masturbation.”

 

“You’re only saying that because you love me. But thanks.”

 

I was clueless, actually, but completely malleable.

 

There was something new to be ashamed about.

 

Could I be worthy of friendship and fun?

 

What would happen next? What else would I say yes to?

 

We had appetites as big as our problems.

 

After all, if I couldn’t love myself completely, then I could at least try to love someone who seemed as broken up inside as I was.

 

I nodded and acted surprised every time he announced his measurements because I understood what it was like to hide.

 

You deserve so much more, I thought.

 

Jealousy wasn’t sexy. I got that now.

 

It was a familiar feeling—not knowing.

 

He saw me and I saw him, and we were in new territory.

 

The moment you are willing to change, it is remarkable how the Universe begins to help you. It brings you what you need.

 

Now I had the opportunity to go there, and to say to a person, This is who I am. Do you accept me?

 

Look at me looking at you.