On Alcohol

 I used to blackout a lot. I mean what is a lot? I'd rather never do it again. I feel torn, is it worth drinking anything ever if it might lead me towards that behaviour again? Is it inevitable that it will result? I stopped drinking for 3 years and I remember moments where I felt so safe because I knew that I had so much more control over what was happening to me when I was sober and took awhile for it to sink in. It was quite profound. I feel a heaviness in being strict with myself. A sense of wary, not trusting. Alcoholism in the family. It's hereditary. It's genetic. My mother's drinking scared the shit out of me. My own almost killed me. Such evil possibilities seem to result. Accidents. Falling off the roof and breaking your back. It's soothing, alcohol. Suddenly you feel like everyone around you is a friend and it doesn't feel like work. Suddenly you're not sad anymore or having a bad day. It's a magic elixir that makes things easier, makes life easier. Maybe it even makes sex easier. Makes death easier. Last thing I want is to die from an alcohol related incident, including it being caused by another person and me being sober. One of my worst fears really. At the end of the day the only control I have is over myself. Safely drinking. Is it possible? 

Step 4: Anger at Men

 I feel furious at men. I feel a never-ending anger that seems to arise most days for the past few weeks. There's a feeling that in order to be in relationship with a man, that I have to put more emotional effort into one conversation than they do in a whole month (probably longer). That when conflict arises, if I don't address it, then it will pile up and continue to build. That if I didn't make plans with him, then we would never hang out. That I'm expected to receive rejection and then have no feelings in response. Then, I'm expected to then 'fix' everything so that he doesn't have to feel uncomfortable that I'm feeling rejected by the way he interacted with me. So there is no room for me to have an experience, my experience. I have to cater to his experience and his reality and his way. It's his way that's the correct way...right? The Way. Tired of this bullshit. Actually physically tired.   

My part: I've accepted this expectation. I've catered to all the men in my life, allowing their reality to be bigger than mine, more dominant. I've twisted and bent to make myself fit in to their lives, to learn their needs and their wants and to become those things. It's such a habit that I can barely notice that I'm doing it until I'm exhausted and then I feel too exhausted to do anything about it. Then, I feel like a victim to this world that doesn't really have a lot of space for me in it. I'm 'too much', 'too needy', 'too sensitive'. 

I'm sorry to myself for all the times I've made myself smaller and all the ways that I will continue to do so. Unsocializing myself is a process that may take longer than my lifetime. I will continue to initiate hard conversations, do the majority of resolving a conflict or negotiating both my own and my male friend's boundaries, do thoughtful things for him behind the scenes in ways that will never be reciprocated, and do the majority of coordinating spending quality time together. At least I'm aware now and I can potentially feel like it's a choice rather than a trap that I have to consistently fall into.

I'm sorry to all the men who have played this familiar pattern out with me as it benefits neither of us in our efforts to create sustainable and meaningful connections. I have loved and continue to love many of these men, but have had to reduce my connection to them because I'm just...tired. I'm feel exhausted, depleted, afraid.

Trevor

My baby making factory is on fire. I cannot even handle my libido recently. It feels ragingly ravenous. My belly is full of heat that rolls down into the back of my knees, lighting everything up along the way. Down into my feet, into the core of the earth connecting me to the miracle that is life. Nothing more erotic that the ability to create life. The idea that you could be connected to another person so intimately. Terrifying and exhilarating. It's hard to even write about, my brain glitches lol. The fantasy can be hot. The hormones screaming at you to do the thing, your vulva pulses and thick wet strands falling out of your cunt from it quivering with excitement, anticipation, pure need.

His smell is delicious. I don't even know how to describe the timbre of it because my mind is melty when it lingers in my nose or when I'm rolling around in his bed full of scent and drunk on it. Literally drunk, it's so...delicious. That's all I can really say.

Kissing him is like being in a boat that is rocking gentle on a clear blue day in the sea. Waters are warm and turquoise and the rocking feels like you're being lulled into a nice dream. A wave crests occasionally. Hands roam and explore, the desert of the skin, hills and brushing softly past peaks. Oh...so...softly. 

Making you watch my face while I cum most intimate and terrifying thing that I can think of. Commanding that you don't take your eyes off the way that your body being close to mine can bring about such an intense pleasure. Consuming pleasure. 

How can I fight with that? I'm not even gonna waste my energy. I'm just gonna ride along the bliss. 

 

A Collection of Moments

C F Am F - DGBmG

Thought to open my heart

Do you come a la carte

I don't know if I can handle the whole thing

Maybe we can go slow

Like the age of the radio

Sense each other gently from both near and far

A moment is never a moment until it is

It cannot be captured or faked or missed

You cannot hold it up in a heist

For it is a moment and it comes by surprise

Slid your fingers in my mouth

it was a moment

And then when we kissed 

it was a moment (again and again)

And then I let you touch me on my most sensitive parts

and there were many moments which my mind has marked with hearts

It was a moment, a collection of moments

Pretty little moments

Some awkward moments

Hot, hot, hot moments

Some taco filled moments

Some moment filled tacos

More Erotic Bicycles

 He straddled my frame facing me on my saddle, feet mid-rotation, pinning me in midair. "Hi",  I whispered, his face only an inch from mine. He simply stared into my eyes. First I felt shy and looked away, then I peaked back into his irises and felt hypnotized. I could smell the beer on his breath and I wanted so badly for him to lean forward so I could take the smallest sip of him in. His sweaty scent filled my nostrils and almost made me fall off the saddle. He gripped my hips with his hands, holding me in place. I felt my vulva pulse in the cutout of the Brooks C19 carved. Holding me steady brought his face even closer and I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He slid his hands up my back and tried to move his body closer, but my knees got in the way. We giggled and I parted my knees while he kept kissing me and making my head spin with hormones. His hands found their way back down to my butt and then underneath my saddle to the sensitive folds of the cutout. At first he just put his hand over the hole so I could feel the heat of it energizing my most sensitive bits. My breath caught and my pussy flexed, screaming to be caressed. I moaned into his mouth and he moved his hand ever so slighted. I pressed myself towards the warm heat, but the saddle pressed back into my pelvic bones. He grinned wickedly into my eyes as he watched the desperate desire grow on my face. My hips began to rock forward and backward, my feet pressed hard into my pedals and he slid his palm gently back and forth against my bulging vulva poking through the cutout. I leaned forward with my head on his shoulder for support, my hips taking over with a mind of their own. I buried my face in his neck as I came and moaned loud enough that he looked embarrassed that someone might notice us. 

On Kink: Humiliation

     In this video by the channel Loving BDSM (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xklimaaSjKE), Kayla and JB discuss erotic humiliation, also known as humiliation play or degradation. Something that stood out for me that Kayla pointed out is humiliation is difficult to define because what individuals find humiliating can vary dramatically. This highlights the intimacy of having the knowledge of what feels humiliating to folks in your social group. 

    I recently was told by a new lover that one of their flaws in relationship is that they can say very mean and cutting things to their partner. While they are working towards not doing this, it has become a force of habit that is difficult to change. Due to reading Existential Kink by Elliott, by the next day I had the idea that perhaps it was something to lean into and use in our play together. 

    What I didn't realize at the time was that this is a form of power exchange. The amount of power that someone holds just by knowing what creates humiliation in another person is very intimate. The kind of safety that humiliation play requires takes time to foster and will potentially be a part of my play with my lover at a later date. Until then I am delving into other people's experiences so I can learn as much as possible to do it safely.

    Ms. ElleX (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLAwDh_GQDQ) reads a followers questions about humiliation play and responds with love. Elle points out that when we are emotionally shutting down during a scene that it's important to pause and take a break. Plowing through our discomfort and dissociating is not helping us to fully allow ourselves to enjoy the experience. She brings up the concept of compare and despair reminding us that our sexuality is a buffet that we can pick and choose from, it's not about comparing what we like to those around us. 

    While I'm tempted to explore what causes me humiliation in this post, I want to acknowledge that it is not safe to share with just anyone what causes me humiliation because I cannot control who's hands this information might fall into. Protect yourself, share with safe people.

    Within the bounds of consent, there are no 'correct' choices when it comes to play and sexuality

Crying cryaing cring

 Cry! Cry if you need to. There's something special on the other side. A relief, a reveal, a moment of peace. You have to let go in order to let it happen. Can you let go of control? Cause that's what it's going to take. You're going to have to let go and see what happens. 

At first it's gonna feel real ugly. Like you're too much. Like it's all too much. Maybe you make some unusual noises and, even if you're lucky and no one ridicules you, then you'll have a vulnerability hangover. Wondering why those, actually innoculous, faces were so judgement of your woes.

Because when I cry it's usually a buildup of things so I might be surrounded by milk spilled, but ultimately the well is much deeper.

Then it gets a little easier. I have started to trust that I can let go and stop crying when I'm done. I don't have to feel trapped in it. It's like opening a release valve just a little and then having the power to close it back up again. It doesn't mean the tears aren't really, it means you opened yourself up to the person in front of you that much and it wasn't so unsafe that you lost control. 

As a counsellor I allow my eyes to get misty and sometimes a stray tear is released. I don't feel ashamed, I model that it's okay to feel. It's scary and it's intense but it brings us closer to the meaning of life. To the purpose of existence. 

So I understand our conundrum.

Do we want to feel close to the purpose of existence? Is it comfortable over there? Is it kinda exhausting and, worst case, what if I feel nothing??? What if I'm the one most f*ed up person who feels nothing even when I'm staring Goddess in the face. 

Then what?

The Smell of the Ocean

 'I want to explore each others bodies without the intension of orgasm or penetration', she told him looking him directly in the eye. She noticed a split second expression but couldn't interpret it and her thoughts were interrupted as he nodded his head in response. Her inner thighs immediately began to tingle and she suddenly became very aware of her pelvis and nipples. Her breathing slowed and her eyelids grew heavy as she let out a sigh. 'Well?, she asked. 'What's on the menu?' His eyes glittered and he grinned as he pressed his body into hers and pushed her down on the bed. Lying on top he whispered in her ear that she didn't say anything about sucking on her nipples. Her eyes widened and her breath caught as she wiggled beneath his weight feeling his erection pressing into her thighs. 'I need a moment' she protested in response and he slid off of her and held her while they breathed together. After a few moments she pushed her butt into his crotch and wiggled it and he grabbed her top hip and ground himself into her soft tush smelling her hair and the swirl of their scents combining. She turned onto her back and looked at him and they gazed into each others eyes shyly for a moment before relaxing into it and enjoying the sensation of looking into the centre of the universe. He leaned in to kiss her watching to see if she turned away even slightly. As she leaned back to meet him he pulled her close to crush her mouth with his awkwardly at first but as they breathed and found a rhythm it became fiery and their bellies felt full of energy. They stopped to catch their breath and soon began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Feeling a sense of calm and reassurance. As they slowly parted ways that evening an energy lingered in the air. Something was stirring and waiting to be birthed. 

An Ode to Aurora

I am unsure how I’m feeling there’s a lot going on in my mind and my body. Am I comfortable am I safe am I good enough? Who is this member of the family that appeared out of nowhere. What is life what is death is there a connection? My mind explodes on this page not going nowhere anywhere where am i? I’m angry I’m sad I’m confused I’m what I’m. I wish…what is there to wish for when I can’t remember which way is up? All I can do is sing until I cant anymore and the desire leaves me completely dry empty where did it go? A crusty crust around me protecting me from the muffled activity around me hovering wondering how we all fit together. No one knows. Glances are exchanged. Feelings are felt, some of them voiced, others echoing in chambers of minds…sometimes…trailing. Off. 

Others come booming back and if you clench your jaw, tighten your throat then by the time they make their way out they are louder then intended, wide eyed audience making them even louder, tender feelings exploding all over the room. Who’s are who’s? Who’s are who’s? Days later still sorting the feelings into piles of ‘keep’ and ‘don’t keep’. Wondering where the time went.

Yes time, thyme, tie ‘em. What is time? Is it worth even going into? This currency of our energy with its exchange rates and unpredictability :/ I thought I would have the ‘time’. I lost track of the ‘time’. Ah Father Time. But how many people can raise their hands and say… “My father is a good man.” I hope more than I can. I feel like I’m betraying him. But some things are unforgivable. Aren’t they? 

Forgiveness is for thyself. What is worse than betrayal? Forgiveness, does that mean I stop loving him? Was my love for him the only thing that connected us. His love feels far away, but it exists. What if I stopped caring? Would his love need to grow as mine waned? Or would our connection disappear completely. Would I have to feel guilty? I don’t want anymore uncomfortable feelings over this. Can’t I be done with it? Will it still hurt the moment that I die?

 

The M U N D A NE

 Sometimes I'm tired of my mind. I've started slipping back into that mentality that if I only meditated more often then everything would better. I can't tell if it's true or not. I find playing music quite meditative as well as riding bikes, but I still feel like I'm struggling. Effort. Struggle. This is a difficult moment. Only the moment because there was a moment that I wasn't struggling in and I missed it, it passed me by and I was busy remembering the hard moment before it so I got stuck in a loop.

So in this new refreshing moment I am calm, I am well, I am peaceful. I am well liked. I am well loved. I am SEXY! I am sexual and free. I fit in. I love the things I do: my job, my house, my hobbies. I'm surrounded by care and it exists within my mind as well. My mind is constantly thinking of new ways to care for me and to bring me joy and love. 

It's true. Both of these paragraphs are snapshots of my mind. 

What really boggles me is the many facets of existence and the elusiveness of it's creator. I want to believe and have faith, to dedicate my life....my very life to something, anything, everything? I want a meditative peaceful state just knowing. Literally being. I think that's the ultimate service to our creator. Being in each moment experiencing the depths of pleasure and pain and vulgarity of life.

The message that continues to flash through my head over and over is that the mundane is the greater part of the entirety of our experience. It is the mundane that we miss when someone is gone. It is the mundane of our routines that we grieve in the face of novelty. M U N D A NE

Why is this my message lately? What? What do you want from me Goddess? 

Burn Out

Experiencing some amount of burn out appears to be an inevitable part of being a counsellor so it's not so much about how to avoid it rather than how to recognize it's happening and address it sooner than later. I notice that I'm burning out when I stop feeling passionate about school. I know I'm passionate about school as a fact so when it feels like I am not I eventually realize that it's a symptom rather than reality. 

Another signal is general irritability. I can especially notice this when I interact with my partner and things that I usually find annoying but manageable feel like things I need him to immediate change and address about himself. This is challenging because it results in me expressing myself in a way that feels disrespectful and mean which results in extended shame and discomfort on my part. We have discussed how to navigate this part of me and it's still a work in progress, but at least it's not a secret.

A third symptom that I recognize is general fatigue. I noticed this morning that even though I had a very good sleep last night that I still felt that sensation of burning relief when I closed my eyes. Ahhhhh, sweet burning relief. I thought I was well rested, but this helped me recognize that I needed more than one night of restful sleep. 

Highly distressing situations take several days or even weeks to move through even if it might be easy to ignore the residual effects. I'm really trying to lean in to paying attention to my body and what it needs to tell me about what's happening for me unconsciously. There are signals that I have overlooked in the past that can help me process what is going on so that it doesn't need to be stored for future analysis. 

Essentially I have recognized that I no longer want to 'hold on' to experiences that don't serve me. I don't want to live in fear. I want to recognize that shitty interactions occur, don't need to be the norm, and I am resilient and strong so I'm able to live through them without too much suicidal ideation. Some, but not too much. At this point, I have enough folks in my life that I can tell if I'm feeling suicidal and I know they understand. By sharing it and not keeping it as a shameful secret, it passes more quickly and doesn't burden me as heavily.

I got some time off work as a result of experiencing burn out and I thought that my days off would be filled with catching up on school. Wrong I was, there were many other important things that I needed to do in order to catch up on taking care of myself which included doing nothing that felt 'productive'. Making time to experience the moment and whatever it brings is essential to my mental wellness. It can be really hard to value empty space in my calendar to the point of safeguarding it. Having a bit more time for now allows me to understand just how precious it can be.