Sex. There are no refunds!

SEX. There are no refunds!

First thing you need to know here is… this is not advice, this is not judgment, this is perception, this is concern…this is my very vulnerable and open letter to my fellow awakening sisters and brothers. And part of a set of blogs I want to write around sex!

I embarked on my sexually active life at sweet 16. It was a blessing. I had a boyfriend who lovingly guided me towards discovering my divine sacred feminine power. He showed me what it meant to honor and respect both my body and my pleasure. At the time, I assumed this was “normal,” but I later realized that it was actually quite rare.

Sex was new, exciting, and awesome. Within a few weeks, I did what was considered the “responsible thing” according to social norms: I went to see a doctor. I felt so grown up, responsible, and excited. It marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

In the first few months, I started to change, both physically and mentally. Deep down, I knew that the pills I was taking were not good for me, but I continued because that was the expected thing to do. Whenever strange bouts of depression washed over me, I would numb myself with epic marathons of MTV, X-Files, vodka, and being the life of the party.

Although my “year and a half relationship” with my first love may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of my 38 years on this earth, it felt like an eternity at the time. It provided me with a solid foundation of self-worth. It taught me that sex was about mutual pleasure, deep connection, and love.

Unfortunately, I ended up breaking his heart. As I was growing up, he loved me too much, and I longed for independence and freedom. When my Grandad passed away, it had a profound impact on me. I wanted to be free and experience all that life had to offer. I no longer wanted anyone to take care of me or dictate my actions.

I ended the relationship with my first love when my head was turned by a 33-year-old man who was “separated” from his wife (although it became clear that he wasn’t truly separated). The irony wasn’t lost on me that my own father was 33 when he left my mother for a 17-year-old girl. This man resembled a psychological version of my estranged father, but his dark looks and charming nature distracted me and led me to a place of new excitement.

The first sexual experience with this man was awful. I cringed at his complete inability to connect. I was acutely aware of his detachment from himself and from me. It took mere seconds to realize that he had no regard for my pleasure, which was a new experience for me.

I felt sorry for him and ashamed of myself. I was still on the pill at the time, so there was no thought of using condoms or considering what I was allowing into my body energetically and biologically. I allowed this strange interaction to happen once more before waking up to the energetic destruction it was causing. I stood up and said, “No, I am worth more than this!” I realized that this was not going to work and moved on.

The tables had turned, and I found myself playing out the judgments I had held against my father. For most of my life, I despised the 17-year-old girl he left my mother for… and now I had become her.

The shaman within me now sees and heals the ancestral patterns that subtly weave themselves through the lineage of our families. I am unhooking the stories that shape-shift and pass on from generation to generation, from grandparents to parents to children. These patterns repeat and flow through our lives until we seek the opportunities to learn, heal, and grow, transforming destruction into golden wisdom.

The start of university showed me that the world was not what I had imagined. It dawned on me that the guys at uni had no love for me or themselves. Freshers week turned into a term filled with promiscuous encounters, excessive drinking, and a constant search for a deeper connection with someone. I became detached and empty, trying to keep up a tally that made me appear cool.

Three months into university, something happened where I felt unable to say no. He was different from the foolish boys at uni. This man knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t pleasant. He was my boss at my unfulfilling job as a pizza waitress. Although I appeared strong on the outside, I was also polite and vulnerable, unable to say no to my boss. I didn’t want to be rude or lose my job, and he intimidated me. He asked me out for a drink after work, then asked me to pay for the drinks, and finally asked me to drive him home. Despite every fiber of my being rejecting the idea, I allowed it to happen. Afterward, I lay there, hoping he would fall asleep so I could leave. I returned to my dorm feeling horrified. It was at that moment I realized that this man had impure intentions and energy, and now all of that was inside me. He had released his energy and his unclean essence into my body, using me to escape his own demons and smothering my soul with his shadows. And I allowed it.

“When you sleep with someone, you sleep with their past.”

I began to feel incredibly dirty. Not even copious amounts of alcohol could numb the fact that something was profoundly wrong with being open to all of this. However, I wasn’t conscious enough to fully understand what was happening. I simply knew that I was far too open, and being on the pill made me more susceptible to these situations. It hindered my self-preservation and self-respect. It was too easy for me to be taken advantage of.

After that Christmas, at the age of 18 and a half, I decided to come off the pill. I made a commitment to only engage in sexual intercourse when using a condom. I became wise enough to know that I wouldn’t involve myself with anyone who didn’t prioritize mutual pleasure and fairness. I refused to be someone’s piece of meat, and I wouldn’t engage in casual sexual encounters unless there was equal love involved.

I had been on the pill for just over two years, and coming off it was a profound experience. My body became more balanced, and I experienced fewer bouts of anxiety. I felt strong and powerful. My weight dropped, and I became acutely aware of how much the pill had been affecting me. I decided I would never use it again.

I started to ground myself, slowing down and spending time with my male friends without engaging in sexual activities. Things became calmer. My mind was clearer, and although I wanted a boyfriend, I sought someone who would connect with me on the deepest level and love and respect me.

It didn’t take long. Two weeks after my 19th birthday, I fell in love with my husband. I knew he was the one from the moment I laid eyes on him. The energy between us was profound. It was the reunion of two souls, and I had been waiting for him. This was not just sex; it was divine and sacred. It was unity, innocence, purity, and love.

I went back on the pill because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in a committed relationship and don’t want a baby. The doctor prescribed a different pill, claiming it was better suited to me. I couldn’t help but notice that every girl I knew at university seemed to be on the same one, making me suspicious of some pharmaceutical deal.

Once again, I started to change, both in my body and in my mind. Deep down, I knew that the pills were not good for me, but I carried on because it was the socially accepted thing to do. Any strange depressions that washed over me were easily numbed with excessive drinking, and I continued being the life and soul of the party.

One day, feeling sad and depressed, I went back to the doctor. Perhaps I needed to change my pill? Instead, they prescribed antidepressants.

Despite all this, I knew one thing: I had met my soulmate, and we were destined to be together forever. We got engaged within a year, and conversations about having children one day began to awaken me. Something inside me knew that these little pills were interfering with my body, and if I continued taking them until the day I wanted to conceive, I might jeopardize my chances of having children in the future. I sensed that all of this was not right for me.

I woke up and realized that I valued my body and mind more than anything. Less than six months on the pill was enough for me. I couldn’t bear to subject my body to this anymore. I decided to stop taking the pill, threw away the antidepressants, and got on with my life.

I never looked back. I knew something was seriously wrong with what was happening, and I finally learned to listen to my body, my mind, and experience true soul connection.

(Note: The text you provided appears to be a personal narrative or blog post about the author’s experiences with sexuality, relationships, and contraception. The text expresses the author’s journey and realizations regarding their own self-worth, the impact of certain contraceptive methods on their well-being, and their pursuit of a deeper, more fulfilling connection with their partner.