Mistake

7 05 2014

You drove home
One more drink?
We talk theology
Passion rises as we kill our god
Minds expand as the night wanes
Falling into one another
I go to kiss you on your cheek
Your head turns
Ecstasy began
It was a dream so good
Better than it’d been in a long time

The sharp morning light
Cuts into my head
But your shadow
Still laid inside me
I open my eyes to kiss my husband

But you were there instead.

 





No More Apologies.

2 11 2012

You know what I’m tired of? I’m tired of looking to other people to tell me things about myself.

I’m tired of looking outward and hoping to find “the right way” to look in. And I’m sure as fuck tired of explaining and apologizing for being who I am.

Because you know what? I’m amazing. I am. If I look at my life and stop and think about what it is that I HAVE done, what it is that I’m working on, and where I’ve been, I’m glad I’m alive.  And I’m tired of being afraid of being myself.

I’m pushy, nosey, borderline know it all, who’s smart, and funny (mostly unintentionally), who can laugh at herself,  can discuss the beauty of language, art, music, and has ideas that don’t stop coming. And I’m a painter. Its taken me a while to really and truly admit and identify myself as a painter, but you know what? I’m a goddamned painter, and I need to get to it. Because the biggest obstacle has been myself, and fighting to be something that I’m not, because I was too boughed down with what I saw as a limiting thing.

When in reality what I painter does and is, is vast. Maybe I don’t always take brush to my paint, and then to canvas, maybe I do weld, and make paper, sculpture, video, and a photo here and there, but goddamnit, its all painting to me.

Maybe I have a fragile, and sometimes raw emotional state. Maybe I’m impulsive, and don’t always think things through, maybe some times all I want to do is hurt myself. Maybe I’m sloppy, and could have better hygiene  maybe I drink too much, and am a bad vegetarian and crave lamb and sausage and make myself sick sometimes, because I want a giant meat load in my mouth and I don’t care about the way my body will reject it in 20 minutes. Maybe I’m not very good with money. Maybe I’m claustrophobic, and people stress me out. Maybe I’m not very good at being a daughter or a sister.

Maybe I’m too sexual. Maybe I like sex too much. Maybe I’m not as wise as some people think. Maybe I have trouble recognizing myself in the mirror.

But I’m intuitive, brave, creative, and free.

And I will not apologize. ANY. MORE.

I do not have to defend, explain, and nor do I owe you anything. I am not an object, I am not yours to touch, follow, or have in any way.

I will never give you my heart and I won’t ask for yours, because I think my heart belongs to me and yours belongs to yours. I do not believe in a savior, outside of myself. It is me that will pull myself out of the mire, and I am done, done, DONE, I tell you with being fixed.

I’m. NOT. BROKEN. 

That being said, I do have a lot to process, because lets face the facts dear, which are:

In the last five years of my life I Have:

1. Married my high school sweetheart when I was going to be a junior in college, he a sophomore, we were virgins

2. relationship became abusive

3. Went from considering doing mission work, believing in spiritual warfare, to not believing in God at all and questioning whether or not it was ethical to even be studying theology.

4. Won some big award, for the small town I was in, for a painting.

5. First solo show

6. Went to Italy

7. Separation from emotionally abusive husband, sparked by being raped by said husband for three days(and blacked it all out forgetting/burying it and not dealing)

8. Divorced

9. Graduated two weeks later with a BA in theology

10. Stranger Raped, but didn’t understand (see number seven)

11. Beloved father like mentor dies suddenly, (barely deals with death)

12. Graduated with BFA in painting and drawing

13. Have a major PTSD episode “psychotic break” end up in hospital, after a month of suddenly remembering rapes. Given lots of psyche meds that make everything like tar.

14. Finally start coping with the shit that happened. Have to change phone number and delete beloved email account/blog because fear of being stalked by rapist ex husband

15. Live out of my car, essentially for six months

16. Crash said car

17. End up living with painting professor

18. MOVE TO BOSTON!

19. Got a bike

20. Find good counselors

21. Complete a rigorous nonsensical program

22. Got hit by a motorcycle, concussed

23. Got the brief shit kicked out of me by love

24. Kept biking, swimming, and being active, learning my body’s capabilities.

25. Finally learning to love myself. For Who I AM, not what other people say I am.

 

That my friends, is a lot to process. In fact, its kinda exhausting.  But “the worst things in the world” have happened, and I’ve come through. Not unscathed, no I have scars, but I’m here. I’m a survivor. And I’m learning how to live.  And learning that I am beautiful.

 

Special thanks to a few inspiring folks.

http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-worst-thing-in-world.html

and

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6osiBvQ-RRg

 

 





If only there was blindness.

22 10 2012

I think I know what my problem is….I’m bored by masturbation. I always know what I’m going to do. And that predictability bores me. I can’t very well trick myself. Also spanking oneself is rather difficult. I can slap myself in the face pretty easy, but I usually do that compulsively when I’m super upset… so that doesn’t really ring, “turn on!” for me.

But will this keep me from it…. *sigh* sadly  not. Will I try new things, knowing that they will still not surprise me, because I know what I’m thinking??? *Sigh*  Yes.





Enter Lelo

6 10 2012

Sexual Hiatus, yes not a time of abstinence or chastity, but a sexual hiatus. Because Lelo, you my friend are about to get worn down.

The thing is I know sex is waay more than the P in the V but I really like to have my pussy filled with cock.  And while Lelo can do some amazing things for the clit, I’m not so sure about its abilities on the inside. Maybe I need to get a wall dong…. but I feel like I should give Lelo a chance  before I go blowing all my money  on more self pleasuring sex toys.

An internet friend of mine called me a pervert the other day and I did not take offense, I mean it was meant as a compliment, I knew it and felt it, and enjoyed that compliment. Because of this… high libido, strong sexual appetite, or whatever you want to call it, I find it hard to believe that I will actually not have sex on my hopeful sexual hiatus. I have kinda poor impulse control when it comes to this.

I mean the longest I’ve gone with out sex…. I believe was three months. Since I was 20, you know after I was married. And then when I was separated, I kept feeling my ex inside of me, feeling him crawling on top of me, and it made me feel sick, and drink too much, and then one night I had beer goggles, and enter me having one night stands…I had very few standards at first. I basically only had to be mildly attracted to them, not even like them, and I would fuck them. Because I could still feel my ex.

But then I actually did have a crush, and then had sex with him, and it was FUN. So much fun, and we communicated and during Christmas break had sex basically every day that I was in town, multiple times.  Suddenly I felt like this was it, this is what I wanted, fuck buddies. But he wanted more, and I lived in another town. We did have sex a few more times when I was back in town, until one night I got super drunk and told him he deserved to be with some one who was capable of love. I mean I really liked him and said that as well, but  it didn’t  matter because he deserved more and I wasn’t capable of love any more, that my ex (who he knew vaguely) had ruined that out of me. I don’t remember his reaction, and I barely remember saying that, I had accidentally chugged ever-clear the night before. But I do know that in the morning he did seem different.

 

Then there were a few more mistakes of having sex when I was waay too drunk, with one person who I really did n’t like. Then I had the realization that I become a monster when I’m black out drunk, evidence found through horrid text messages I sent some one I barely knew, and I decided to real in my crazy and not get black out drunk any more. So no more mixed liquors and no more shots. Because its not that I can’t hold my liquor, I mean I can chug ever-clear for christs sake, but holding that liquor leads too often to crazy monster me and I don’t like crazy monster me.

Then I found another consistent fuck buddy and that chilled me out for a moment, but I still wasn’t able to get all the pleasure I wanted, it was the same thing every time, the biggest variety was taking me from behind, but hey, it was still sex, right?

Then there was couchsurfing yoga guy, with the magic dong. All we did for a week was, yoga, sex, and food. I mean it was amazing. Yoga as foreplay is still something I am hoping to find in another partner, one day.  Yes this kid had the biggest consensual dick I’d seen, but more importantly he knew how to use it. Because frankly if you don’t know how to use what you’ve got it doesn’t matter how big it is. I mean really use and control, he could control his ejaculation and dry cum. It was kind of fascinating. He was only in my life a week but he taught me so much about my own pleasure. He taught me not to be afraid of what I wanted sexually. And for that I thank him and call him my first teacher.

I didn’t really have that many new repeat partners the last year I was in Abilene, just one, but he didn’t live in Abilene. It was my last semester, and I tried to pursue a relationship. I also found myself in a number of kind of sad drunk and horny scenarios, but nothing happened.

This new person who I met I had admired from very far away for some years. He’s older and an artist, one who I really dig, and now we are something possibly like friends. We talk, we fuck, he gives me advice. I enjoy his company, and he seems to enjoy mine, but we aren’t together. I think I’m more or less a fantasy to him. Though he does say that I am more than a sex object, sometimes I’m not sure.

Then I moved to Boston… and my impulsive nature gave in again. I was able to chill out a bit after a few months but I think I had sex with three different people in the matter of a week and a half? Which probably isn’t nothing, but for me, it was a little alarming. Then…in February the same thing happened.

Then A came into my life and taught me how to feel, and was such a good lover. He opened me up, and sure we did fuck do not doubt that. One time we were going so slow and he asked me, ” Can I fuck you?” and get chills just thinking about it the way he said it, it was mmm really nice. I know that’s nto the dirtiest thing any one has ever said to me, but damn. I really wanted to hold on to him, the way that he felt, but then when I saw him last week, and it hurt so much, I decided to make some bad choices, by going to that frat party. And now that’s done.

I do feel a little ashamed of my last weekend exploits… I don’t really tell people I know that I had sex. And I certainly won’t tell him I had sex because I missed some one and then cried the whole way home on the train.

And so because of the shame that I feel, that’s why I am taking a sexual hiatus. Because sex should never feel shameful.

And I still love him. Though it hurts a lot less today than it did last Friday on the train.

 





Catch-22

3 10 2012

This past weekend I went to an art party and met a person who I ended up being really into, and we talked and at the end of the night we kissed.  There was a big part of me that wanted to invite him to stay, but on top of my room being disastrous  I really do not want to be a sex object any more. So I said good night.

Last night we hung out again, and then he said as we were parting, ” I don’t want to lead you on, you seem really nice, but I think its unfair that I’m mostly just interested in you because of your body.”

Honesty. So often does it hurt. And yet, still feels better than being lied to.

“I am painfully aware of what it means to be a sex object, and I do not want that anymore.”

He said a few more words, about not wanting to be strangers and getting to know me and things like that, and then I said a few more words then he touched my leg and ass.

“Do you not want to touch me or do you want to touch me?”

I also told him that I had no expectations, and had been pretty well disillusioned to true love, monogamy, and that I was not possessive or jealous.  What I know is that I seem to like you, and that I am attracted to you.  But again, I’m not interested in only being a sex object.

We hugged, we parted ways.

And I cried the entire way home. And for a few hours after being home. I don’t understand. I really don’t. How can I not be a sex object?

If I scrapped my face, tits, and ass off would I then be able to be a human being?

The guy that tells me he wants me more than my body breaks up with me when things get busy, and another guy tells me all he wants me for is my body so doesn’t want to bother.

Maybe I should start taking testosterone and grow a beard.

I feel like such a huge contradiction, I don’t want to be objectified, but I still get a stupid smile on my face when a person I think is cute tells me I’m striking.

 

I really want to love myself, to love my body, but as of late, I don’t even want to be inside of this skin.

Maybe I’ll take up mma, and have my face smashed in.





Say what you mean and mean what you say. Please.

3 10 2012

Dear any one who has ever said, “I love you” to some one who wasn’t a family member.

Mean it.

Dear any one who has ever said, “I love you.” to some one who you were having sex with on a regular basis, called your companion and stared at with stupid stars in your eyes.

Mean it in the way you know it has been interpreted.

Dear any one who has ever had the words, “I love you” or “I’m so in love with you.” said to them by a person who has horrible trust issues and who has told you repeatedly how hard it is for them to even accept that they have these feelings because in the past they have betrayed them so terribly.

Please don’t then tell that person after months of returning the “I love you” and even spontaneously saying it yourself; that “I do have love for you, but I’m not in love with you.” and that you aren’t sure if you ever were because you suppressed those emotions.

If you suppressed those emotions, why did you say words that you did not mean?

Also please don’t repeatedly say that you are interested in some one for more than their body and then get incredibly frustrated when that person admits to being afraid that their sex drive has plummeted and doesn’t know why.  Please don’t take it personally, when that person doesn’t want to be touched because for whatever godforsaken unwanted reason the anniversary of horrible events haunt them physically.

Also please don’t say that you want more from a person than sex, and then when things get too busy for sex, stop talking to them for a week and then break up with them.

Also if you really feel that way, don’t let that person come over the day before you break up with them arriving in a corset, and proceed to give you a blow job, no matter how much you want it. It’s unfair to them. And a little objectifying.





22 09 2012

I started a text message to him. I reads, “Hey, hope you’re well.”

I did not send it. I wanted to send it. but more, I wanted a response, and the fear of radio silence, keeps me quiet. I know that I shouldn’t want to be in a relationship with a person who obviously doesn’t want to be a in one with me, but goddamn it I love him.

It was probably for the best though.

He insists that we are still friends. I really hope so, because I don’t want to loose him as a friend, or any more friends for that matter.

I feel like maybe I was too sexual. Like I don’t know how to relate to men I’m in a relationship with unless sex is some how involved. I’m so used to being seen only or primarily as a sex object, I guess I’m learning how to not only be that. And I think I was so close. And I mean yes, I do enjoy sex, but it was so much more than that.

 

I miss him most in the mornings. I loved waking up to him, I felt safe, and reassured. I don’t know if he knew that. I don’t know if that matters.

Maybe I’m still too influenced by the way I was raised. Maybe if I could shake that, then it wouldn’t matter.

I keep trying to ignore the question in my head of, “What did I do wrong?”

And the thing I try to ignore even more is the answer I hear, “Love him”