i want to be held but make it ancient civilization

on walls, healing, and the audacity of thinking i was ready

tl;dr: i want a partner. i’ve also built emotional fortifications that would make ancient civilizations weep with envy. these two facts are very much in conflict.

so a great substacker i know called Deziré wrote the most devastating thing on substack notes the other day.

it was something so simple and honest it made my chest hurt:

“i just wanna lay my head on a man’s shoulder and he lay his head on my head please.”

that’s it. the whole thing.

just a person asking the universe for the gentlest possible form of intimacy. head geometry, human tetris. two skulls, one shoulder, zero pretense.

a normal person would reply “mood” or “same” or maybe just a single emoji of a person lying down.

i wrote this:

“clamors this yearnfully to the winds and airs around me, all while standing amidst four large, tall, thick stone walls crafted with inca stonemasonry precision.”

let’s sit with that for a second.

i clamored. yearnfully. to the winds AND the airs… inside a fortress… with historically accurate masonry.

i provided the NUMBER of walls (four). i described them (large, tall, thick). i named the CIVILIZATION responsible for the technique. i commented on the QUALITY of their craftsmanship.

she asked for a hug and i gave her national geographic.

what is WRONG with me?!?

here’s the thing, though.

i didn’t write that as a joke. i mean, i did. but also… i didn’t.

somewhere in the absurdist theater of my response is the actual truth: i have built walls. massive ones. they’re load-bearing, they’re historically significant. they’re surely kind archaeologists will study someday, shaking their heads, muttering this person really did not want to get hurt again.

and yet.

AND YET.

i still want the head on shoulder thing. i still want the sublime geometry of being held. i want it so badly that sometimes i have to turn it into a bit just to survive the yearning.

the funniest lie i’ve ever told myself was “i’m healed now.”

i said it after three years of therapy. i said it after doing EMDR and somatic work and reading all the brené brown and going to the gym and journaling and meditating and whatever else the algorithm told me would fix my attachment issues.

i felt good. i felt ready. i thought: “okay, i can do this now”. i said: “i can let someone in”.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

here’s what nobody tells you about healing: you don’t actually know if it worked until you’re in the situation again. you can do all the work in isolation, feel totally fine, and then someone gets close to you and suddenly your nervous system is like oh, we’re doing THIS? let me pull up some files you forgot existed.

trauma is patient. trauma will wait. trauma will let you think you graduated and then show up at your door like hey bestie, remember me? remember that thing from 2019? 2014? 1997? let’s TALK about it.

i thought i was ready. then i started seeing someone and within three weeks my body was doing things i thought i’d outgrown. hypervigilance. scanning for signs of abandonment. rehearsing the goodbye before the hello was even finished. building walls in real time, brick by brick, while simultaneously screaming why won’t you come closer.

the audacity. the absolute audacity of thinking i was fixed…

I’m 29 & I’ve Never Been In A Relationship

mi abuela used to do this thing when i was little and visiting puerto rico. she’d be cooking, and i’d come into the kitchen, and without even looking up from the sofrito, she’d just... open one arm. i’d tuck myself into her side. and we’d stand there. her stirring, me breathing. no words. no performance.

she never made me ask. she never made me earn it. the touch was offered before i had to build a fortress around the wanting.

i find myself drowning in that scene constantly, all in my head. what it felt like to just... receive. there was no negotiation, there was absolutely no proof of worthiness required.

i don’t know how to do that anymore.

i know how to perform. i know how to make my loneliness into content. i know how to be charming and funny and keep people at exactly the right distance where they can see me but not touch anything that might break.

but the simple thing? the head on shoulder thing? the letting someone in without simultaneously constructing emergency exits?

that actually terrifies me more than i want to (or care to) admit.

but here’s what i’ve learned, though.

the walls aren’t the problem.

the walls kept me alive. the walls were the right call for a long time. when people kept proving that closeness meant pain, the walls were smart. the walls were how i survived. i’m not going to drag myself for building them. i had to do what i had to do.

the problem is that now i can’t find the door.

i built so well, so thoroughly, with such inca-level precision, that i kind of... forgot where i put the entrance. somewhere under all that stonework is a person who knows how to just open their arm and let someone in. but i’ve been in here so long, making jokes to the winds and airs, that i’m not sure how to get back to them.

ashlar masonry wall of the coricancha temple in cuzco, peru. look at that shit. that’s real, ancient, classical precision. and it’s still around today! by pethrus - own work, cc by-sa 4.0.

so when deziré said i just wanna lay my head on a man’s shoulder, i felt that in my whole body.

yes! god, yes. same.

i want that too. i want it simply. i want it without building a history channel documentary around it first. i want to want things without immediately calculating how much it’ll hurt when they leave.

but wanting isn’t the same as being able to receive. and receiving requires something i’m still learning: trusting that the walls can have a door. that i can let someone in without the whole structure collapsing. that i can be held and also be safe.

i’m not there yet.

but maybe writing this is me looking for the door. maybe saying it out loud, to the winds and airs and also to the internet, is how i start finding my way back.

27 & I've Never Been Touched Before.

above i’ve shared two substacks that i read recently that really touched me recently. i want to give their authors a shoutout: to Deziré and kamory rose. they are two of my favorite substackers here, thank you for sharing your experiences.

anyway… if you need me, i’ll be in here.

the acoustics are excellent and the masonry really holds the sound. the elephant really brings the room together.

but! i am looking for the exit.

te quiero.

edgard 💖

p.s. Deziré , if you’re reading this: same. just... same.

p.p.s. the inca thing wasn’t random, by the way. their stonework was so precise they didn’t need mortar. the stones just fit together perfectly. which is maybe the whole metaphor. we’re all just looking for the person whose edges fit ours without needing anything extra to hold us in place. but first you gotta be willing to take down a wall or two… working on it.

p.p.p.s. to my therapist, who i know reads these: yes i’m journaling. this counts. don’t @ me.

if any of this resonated, you can buy me a coffee. no pressure. no subscription. just a one-time “thanks for existing” if you feel like it.