From the time I was 10 years-old until I was in my twenties, I fought a bloody battle with my own body, which manifested as anorexia and bulimia. I spent 15 years in what can only be described as a hell of my own body but more than anything, a place where I was a prisoner of my own mind. I was blessed, however, to get help and eventually fully recover. I learned to come to a place of peace with my body and formed an essence of neutrality. I no longer put effort into trying to lose weight because I knew this was a slippery slop to relapse. Through the years of recovery it became apparent that I needed to work on my past sexual trauma that was keeping me stuck in not only a war against my body but in many areas of my life, especially my sexuality. I would later learn that most individuals with eating disorders also have some difficulties with their sexuality in some form or fashion. I went to therapy religiously and pushed myself to open up internal boxes that I had bolted shut. The deeper I dug the more disgusted I found for my sexuality and the more my body shut down physically.
Scenario 1: We have just come out from an extraordinary concert that has my heart dancing from the beautiful music. As we walk down the sidewalk, he grasps my shoulders and pushes me to the right, and I get jokingly scolded as he explains that he needs to be between me and traffic. In this moment, he wants to be my protector.
Scenario 2: I patiently sit and wait for him to come around to my side of the car and open the door. I have to take a second to breathe past my conditioning of doing things for myself and just allow. He opens the door, I place my hand in his, and he gives me a gentle kiss before guiding me to our destination as I thank him for his thoughtfulness.
Scenario 3: We are lying on the couch and just chatting as he shows me some interesting pictures and videos on social media. The conversation turns slightly sexy, and there is definitely a sexual tension in the room, but I feel frozen and am not making any moves. Then he suddenly stands up, grasps my hand, says he wants me, and pulls me up the stairs to his bedroom where we have an evening of play.
I lay there and have a strong desire to be held in that moment. To be held and kissed, and penetrated on a multitude of levels. It’s funny because a piece of me WANTS sex in that moment and then another piece is stuck in a sense of ambivalence about the whole thing. As I ponder, I think about how things have changed so quickly for me in the sex department. Guy A just wasn’t a fit even though he was really nice, but I’m not one to string people along if the chemistry is not there. Guy B and I aren’t really speaking at the moment and we both need a breather. Guy C is simply going to be labeled an asshole in my book from here on out. And my negative mood and complete absence of sexual desire for a week or so sent Guy D packing for the hills. So I think, “Well, this royally sucks. I am officially in drought territory!”
I am sitting in my car in rush hour traffic when I feel it happen. I am listening to music and a song that always touches my heart comes on over the speakers, and I just feel tears start rolling down my cheeks. I am thankful that I’m in traffic and not really moving because the tears come faster and overtake my vision. The tears are a release of sadness, anger, hope, and disappointment; they are also releasing of energy that was never mine to begin with, energy that I picked up throughout the day. I let the tears roll down my face, leaving glistening wet stripes covering my cheeks and a puddle of collected tears on my shirt. I don’t try to brush them away. All of a sudden a feeling of frustration with myself overcomes me because although I am experiencing all these emotions, I am also feeling very grateful for my life. I have had some amazing sessions this week, had some heartfelt moments, great sex, and a list of about a million other little blessings that transpired over the week.
I receive the text message long before we are even supposed to meet… he is excited to see me and thinking about the upcoming meeting. I’m getting turned on mentally in that moment, and slowly, anticipation starts to build. By the time I arrive at our meeting place I have passed arousal and made it to a sense of nervousness. I know this man, but in the past we have only shared a few hot kisses. We begin the evening with a luxurious glass of wine, sitting on the floor and casually talking about our days.
I have spent the last two weeks in a pile of books. I have read books on sex, on Tantra, on advanced energy techniques, on the human body, on spirit, etc. Honestly, my brain feels like it’s going to explode!
The thing that struck me as I read all of these different books is that everything all came down to simply softening into the Universe. If you want better sex then you have to soften, otherwise you will be unable to connect and experience. If you choose not to soften then you will cut off portions of your experiences, and then you will truly miss out. If you want to feel your energy and/or help others move energy the key is not to grip your mind or clench onto the energy – otherwise you will lose that fragile connection. Instead you are supposed to soften into it. These same concepts apply to spirit, tantric techniques, and dare I say life.
I wrote the below article a while back and it was never intended to be published. I wrote it for myself and my own growth process and to acknowledge where I was on my journey. However, today my spirit is telling me that it needs to be seen. I need to allow myself to be seen. Whenever a beautiful soul comes in for a coaching session or a tantra session they are opening themselves up and becoming truly naked and exposed and so I am offering you a bit of me “naked”. Thankfully I have grown and changed since writing this but the below is an old fragment of my journey and meanderings on the power of sex. To read the original article that this is based on please go to: http://mytinysecrets.com/the-under-fked-pussy-epidemic-every-women-need-to-read-this/
My pussy speaks to me. It has a voice. At times in my life this voice has been almost inaudible while at other times it has been loud and robust. Years ago I worked very hard to silence this part of me that was connected on a soul level. The connection felt too much, too intense, and too open. Through my awakening to different sexuality practices I have reconnected with that primal area. However, despite any attempts to ever silence my pussy it continues to speak to me whether I am listening or not, and when I am not listening my pussy finds a way to make me pay attention! During these times of disconnection I feel lost and uncertain about my life and overall ungrounded-ness when not connected to my source energy. When I am connected I feel alive, I know where I am headed in life, I have energy, and every nuance of life is deeply felt and blissful.
The lights are low and my breath is heavy. I have a sweet merlot sitting on the table next to a glowing candle that flickers with the heat of passion. The back of a hand touches my cheek and then runs down my collarbone. Ripples of pleasure run down my belly. Then those same hands swirl around my areola while the other softly pinches, tugs, and twists at my other nipple. Read more
In my experience, when you begin talking with people about their sex lives they usually lower their voices and will begin whispering when discussing their desire/turn-ons. This reaction speaks volumes about our over-sexualized yet still shameful culture and how we deal with sex and sexuality.