Something is Undoing Both of Us.

Something is Undoing Both of Us.

He came to me looking desperate, like someone sick and tired of his own skin. He was a large man, tall and massive, but his eyes held a pleading that I read as a need to crack himself open. There was a heavy emotional weight in the air between us—his exhaustion, a flicker of dread, like he was barely holding it together. His tension echoed through me, stirring something familiar, and yet I felt calm, steady. I trusted the process. Somehow, I knew this was exactly where we needed to be.He was early and offered to help set up the suspension point, his large hands going through the motions with a kind of formality, as if clinging to his last defenses. Even now, he was a gentleman, polite, helpful, holding onto some final bit of masculine control. I sensed the pull inside him, one side worn down, the other side—the feminine—quietly pleading to be seen.We began. He knelt before me, and I took a breath with him, meeting his eyes, then slowly began to wrap him in the rope. I felt his muscles tense as I tightened each knot, the texture of the rope pressing into his skin, grounding him. The ropes weren’t meant to restrict, but to help him release the weight he carried. “You don’t need to do anything here,” I said softly, “just let yourself be.” His resistance began to melt; I felt his body shift under my hands, allowing itself to be held.

I traced the rope along his arm, giving him just the lightest touch, then abruptly tightened it, pulling him back to the present, to everything he’d been holding. He shuddered but allowed himself to fall deeper. His trust in me solidified something between us, and that’s when the dam began to break. His voice cracked, then burst from him in a raw scream. The tears followed, a flood he’d held back for years.

The surge of emotion coursed through me too, setting off a vibration I could barely contain. I found myself breathing heavily, my own emotions rising to the surface, mirroring his. I sensed the struggle we both shared—the doubts, the pain, the years of holding back. I fought to stay centered, holding the space as the storm built between us.

As we moved from floor bondage toward suspension, his full weight shifted into the ropes, pressing down on me in every way. He was heavy, both in body and spirit, and lifting him felt like an impossible task. His anger, his confusion filled the room, seeping into me, making me question everything. My grip started to slip, my arms straining. Who am I to do this? I thought. He came here for release, but I’m just as lost as he is. Can I even hold him up? Tears filled my eyes, and with his blindfold on, he couldn’t see me, which was a mercy. It allowed me to crumble, to let my own tears flow. But I kept going, staying with him, feeling his weight settle into me even as I struggled to hold him—and myself—together.

Finally, I reached my own limit, unable to hold the weight any longer. The heaviness, the pain, the vulnerability, it was too much. It felt as if we were both trapped, bound by the layers of our own struggles. I prayed—not for answers, but just to get through it. I leaned into the ropes that held him, feeling as though they were supporting us both. I pulled him close, his large body sagging in my arms, exhausted, as if he had finally hit rock bottom. And in that moment, I surrendered, too. 

I picked up the ocean drum, the closest thing I had to ground us both. Gripping its frame, I tilted it until the metal beads inside began to cascade, rolling across the membrane like waves crashing on a shore. Slowly, gently, I moved it around him as he hung half-suspended, trembling. As I continued, a shift began. The waves no longer crashed—they started to roll more gently, subsiding. A stillness settled over us.  

I lowered him into a gentle, fetal suspension, curling him inward, protected. The storm had passed. I picked up my wind chimes and let their delicate tones ring softly, their lightness a counterpoint to everything heavy that had surfaced. Each sound felt like a balm, a cleansing, washing away what had come up between us. As he drifted in that quiet, I felt a strange sense of peace. It wasn’t that anything was resolved or answered, but there was space now—a clean, open emptiness, like a new beginning.

~ Read the most recent testimonial to learn about his experience.