Creativity and Sex

I was staring at this canvas that needed to be toned yellow in preparation for this painting on self-touch. Its whiteness mocks me.  I have been sitting on this idea, minimally sketching about it. I have been so lost with school. That I forgot to paint. I forgot the thing that makes sense to me. The NEED to create. I have been reading about why artists have made art. How to stop and really see?  What is considered art?  I have been introduced to feminist artists, which I might be more like then I thought.

I have abstained from sex and men kind of in general.

I had a mean girl’s night.

I have masturbated.

I have read blogs and found people who I can discuss sexuality and creativity with. They seem to understand that these two parts are connected.   They get how these two are so intertwined.

There was a point where I couldn’t focus. I wanted to quit, to give up. I wanted to have sex to clear the chaos that was running through my brain. I want to get lost in something that made me feel amazing.  I even trolled my phone for about twenty minutes for someone to call or text. I couldn’t do it. I finally felt like my heart and vagina have found some common ground.

I was stressed and I want to touch a man. I wanted to feel his warmth, feel his body, his touch and his smell. I wanted to exchange energy and body fluids. I wanted to connect to someone new in real life and not online, not in a text, but letting someone new in scares the fucking shit out of me.

Instead of texting…

Instead of calling…

Instead of letting someone new in…

Right here in this studio, where I had wept over school and life. I laid out a blanket. I turned off the light. The room glowed from the candles that were lit in the window ledges and on the desk. I turned on the sounds of crystal bowls. I laid on the floor, stared at the sketches of my vagina on the wall. There are a few with my fingers, one with a dildo, one that’s a close-up of my clitoris.

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I took a deep breath, little coconut oil and began to message around my vagina, I rubbed my labia in between my thumb and index finger. First, the right and the left. I grabbed my thigh and moved my hand up to my breasts and pulled  my nipples. I grabbed my crystal wand, it was so cold on my skin. I lightly moved it crossed my clit and back again. It felt so smooth and gave me a tingling sensation.

I moaned aloud as I slid this cold hard wand inside of me. I widened my hips and my knees bent pointing outward while the bottoms of my feet came together to make a triangle. I paced my breaths with the in and out motions of my wand that I controlled with my left hand, while I continued to rub my clit with my right index and middle fingers. I arched my back and separated my feet. I pushed the wand out while I orgasmed loudly, staring at the shadows on the ceiling and with tears in my eyes. I lay for a while to catch my breath and to feel my pussy pulsate.

The was an act of self love not a sin to be ashamed of, this is the reason this painting should be painted.

I got dressed and turned on the light and put yellow paint on the pallet. I opened my google music app and selected my paint playlist.  MGK’s, “At my best” played as I made the first circular stroke.

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Paralyzed by Fear

Paralyzed by fear.

If reading and comprehension come easily to you, you may not full understand the paralyzing fear of reading or reading out loud. The fear of being told that you are dumb or stupid, to have teachers and peers make you feel like you less than because it takes you longer to read or process. This was my experience from elementary through middle school and even Jr. High.  It was better in High school and much easier during my undergrad.

Tonight, I am sitting at my desk with my printed out essay that I need to read. Its only 9 pages. I start out pretty confident, after all I am 36 and have learned ways to cope with my dyslexia. I have found programs that make my life easier, things that assist with my writing. I buy dual copies of books in paper and audio this helps retain me as I follow along.

In the event that I couldn’t get a text on audio. I would just read it out loud. This works for the most part until I get into textual work or theory, when I get to words I can’t pronounce and start to stubble. I start to get lost in the unfamiliar words. I completed last paragraph on page 3 and the tears start to fall.

I start the next page. Suddenly, I see myself as that 12 year old working on homework for hours, crying and telling my mom that I am stupid.  I would get frustrated and she would should different ways to work a math problem, and even though I would finally understand it. I would still cry because I knew that Mrs. Ragor would count it wrong because it had not been done her way.  I was teased and told I was stupid by not just my peers but by educators. If I had not had a mother that was determined to help me, I would not be where I am today. It was my hungry to learn and her determination that made us unstoppable.

I continued to struggle through this 1930’s essay that yes is still relevant. I hit record on my phone, thinking I might be tempted to share and exert of my reading, but that may be too scary. Online classes add to these fears and anxieties, it’s all textual and becomes a sea of letters and words that I am drowning in. I read through my fears. I can’t read this in my head because it bounces off like my brain is rubber.

Finally, I get through it, the notes were not taken and it took me about an hour and a half. I sat there the tears leaking out of my eyes as if I can finally release the sea I was just drowning in.

It was at this moment, I sent another message to my professors and asked about dropping a class. I felt like a total failure. I couldn’t do this. Two classes, children, and work. There is no way! It’s too much and the reading has me feeling like a failure. All I have ever wanted to do was write and make art, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be. These thoughts of the things my middle school teachers use to say to me were screaming, so loudly in my head. I felt so defeated in that moment. I hit send on my email and let the tears flow.

One of my professors had responded to a previous email. He reminded me of my accommodation and advised me to submit my documentation.  I haven’t had to do this in years, but I will dig out paper work. He told me about PDF reader opinion “read out loud,” which I had to google.  I pulled up the pdf of the textbook my other professor had sent me. The “read out loud”, was the lifeline I needed last night. It’s not ideal, but it worked!!

After I complete these sections. I was going to scan in the previous essay, then I realized that I had a theory book that was on audio, low and behold this fucking essay that took me nearly 90 mins to read, was on the audio text I have.  I listened to this essay and took notes for another 20mins, it all made sense to me.

It was 2 AM by the time I finished. I sat with my 12 year old self. She reminded me of all the things I was afraid of and I reminded her of how far we have come. Together we cried not because it was over, but she is the only one that truly understands.

 

Every Negative has a Positive

Negative: I couldn’t get a single book on audio this semester.

Positive: I spent Thursday and Friday ready out loud to myself in funny accidents to get through the pages.

Negative: I should have than work on the video and the paper, but I was not able to focus on it after all the reading.

Positive: I was inspired to work on my book which has a deadline coming up. So, I got lost in this story and the words.  Relived a few life lessons and before I knew it was 1 am.

Negative: My youngest, who is a night owl.  Requested an hour of TV and in my bed at 1AM. I explained to him that I am going to fall asleep and that he is too big to sleep in my bed.

Positive: I could snuggle with him and after 30 minutes before telling him that I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  He agreed to end the movie if I will tuck him in.

Saturday was just one of those days and was not nearly as productive as it should have been, it was full of interruptions.  There are several reasons as to why this weekend was going to be full of changes.

Negative: The older teenager was going to be here and his plans change from hour to hour. Consisting of mom take me here, mom pick me up there. This is not unusual for a teenager, but I was trying to write a fucking paper.

Positive: He re-met and a friend of mine, and for the first time since the divorce he said. “I like him, he seems chill”

I reminded my oldest that this man and I are just friends, and that I have too much on plate to date.  This idea of me letting people met my children is hard for me, even if they are friends.  The fact that he liked someone even if it was a friend was huge because he doesn’t like anyone new.

Negative: Unexpected visitors:

Positive: My wonderful supportive mom stops by and for the most didn’t interrupt me directly.  She drove with me to drop the boys off and even stayed late to watch a movie with them, while working on my paper.

Negative: I don’t like going to the grocery store. It feels like a waste. I understand that we need food to survive, but it mostly feels expensive. It used to give me a panic attack. Now it’s just annoying with the time and the crowds.

Positive: I got to go grocery and my mom made this trip more pleasant. Plus, the kids brought in and put away all the groceries away for me.

Sunday had just as many distractions, but there are ways a better way to look at the situations and find the best part of it.

Not Sorry

I have never been a hateful person. I own my actions good or bad. I understand that what I post is not for the everyone regardless these are my internal thought and experiences told from solely my from the point of view either at the moment or upon reflecting. In the past, I haven’t loved with an open heart, but with a guard one and be vulnerable was not an option. As I am finding the internal balance that is changing, there is something beautiful in exposing that side of myself.

I know that somewhere there is another person who is experiencing things in a similar fashion and my goal is to help them realize they are not alone.

Glimpse of my past

Below is my thoughts I wrote, but never published in response to an article I had read. I tried to find the article again to share it, but I was unable to. July marks several big events in my life.

This was written a week before I signed my divorce papers.

OCTOBER 2o14:

I read this article because of the title. I understand how hard it is when you realize that you and your spouse are no longer as in love as you were in the beginning of a marriage. She made some valid points, being a woman today contains so many pressures. We have to prove that you can not only provide financial support and run the household,  but also be devoted mothers to our children.  She made changes to be less stressed, and seemingly has a spouse that responded to her changes. The reality is that only works when both people are willing to make changes and work together on the relationship.

The hardest part of my marriage truthfully, was when I realized how depressed he was. Sadly, I had given up talking  about it because it would just turn into a fight, it wasn’t until the boys started noticing things. He did go get help and it was an improvement, but also understood that there was more that could have been done.

He had made many efforts with the kids. I watched for years as he suffered silently because he could no longer let me in and I in turn I had shut him out.  I felt like I was watching our marriage slowly destroy the people we were and the people we had become.

I knew that the relationship that he had with his family was strained because of our marriage. He didn’t want to choose and he shouldn’t have had to. I knew that I could not deal with his family’s over involvement  and constant criticism of the person I was. My husband was stuck with agreeing with them or defending me. He tried for years to smooth this over, by avoiding it or by fighting with me and/or them.

I could no longer watch this conflict destroy him. He physically looked sick, his skin was pale, he always seem tired and quick tempered. I knew this was something that after fourteen years had never gotten better and never would. I had tried to repair and pretend it was all okay.  I finally made the choice and asked him to move out.

After only a few short weeks, I saw life in him again. He had color again, he looked healthy and happy. He seemed to have a new zest for life that I hadn’t seen in years. He was spending time with people that he had distanced himself from over the years. I don’t know for sure if that was him, me, or just life, but he no longer seemed lost.  The boys also talk about the things they do with their dad, and that he seems better than before.

Through this whole process I struggled with whether or not this is what I wanted. I was scared. I had no job when he moved out and I didn’t know how I was going to financially support myself or our boys.  I knew that I couldn’t let that fear continue to be the driving force that kept us married. I didn’t want him to hate me and I didn’t want to hate him. I also really wanted my friend back. Once I was able to get a job, which I love, I was able to look at our marriage with clearer eyes.  Seeing him physically looking healthier I know that we made the right decision. He needs his family and I knew that they would never truly respect, love, or make me a part of their family.  Although I knew I was no longer in love with him, I still loved him as a person and as the father of my children. I gave up my marriage to save the person I had been in love with for years.  His well-being was more important than us being married. 

Ready for the Pieces

Dating at 35 with a pretty clear head of what I want in a partnership has been challenging. Partly because I started before I was ready. Before I did the real work. I got attached to men that were emotionally and sometimes physically unavailable. This is my pattern, my mirror because the truth is/was I am emotionally unavailable. My emotional, physical, and mental needs are out of wack.

It has been a series of mix signals, vagueness, and men afraid of hurting my feelings, ghosting, or just keeping me as a possibility. Seriously, a TIP for men and women, stop fucking playing games, it is unnecessary. If you are not interested, just say it. Yes, there will be hurt feelings, but it hurts a lot less the not knowing and for fuck sake if you don’t know say that too. The truth can be hard to hear, but is better for both to be on the same page.

Communication!!! I’m not sure why we are so fucking afraid of this action.

Life is messy and everyone is on their own path and at different stages of the game. For I while I thought that maybe this was payback, karma for something I had done to someone else. After several bad dates, I agreed to give Mr.X a shot. We had been connecting. The date was decent but we were not in the same place. I was still shut out and while he kissed me good night I shut down, completely. I look him in the eyes and said “I don’t feel this. I know you want to be loved and I can’t give you that.” I didn’t want to waste his time and he had done nothing wrong. He accepted that and we have remained friends and not Facebook friends, but actually friends. After that, I shut down for a while convinced myself I wasn’t ready. I did have some things I still had to work on.

One still is, ending it with fuck boy, it’s a temptation, but one I should give it up. It’s time, time for my mind, my vagina, and most importantly my heart to match.

I met Mr. X over the weekend, I was reluctant at first, but decide it’s time to focus on the moment. This was marvelous and short lived.

Here’s what I learned:

I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed intimacy. The touch of a man and looking into somebody’s eyes as you both try to figure it all out. It’s rare that a man can make me live in the moment and keep my mind from racing with a million scenarios of why it won’t work. Although, I tried. The intimate touches are different than fucking. Sexual attraction is easy. It’s going beyond that. It’s about open up my heart that is so difficult. When he asked me to dance and he touched me, I didn’t shut down. Through the course of the next few days I thought “I can open up, be vulnerable and accept the possibility of love”

I was reminded what it’s like to kiss somebody you like. To think I can get on this ride. I can test the waters. I can be open and comfortable to feel that a sensual touch. I let down my guard and listened to his heartbeat under your ear. I felt safe at that moment. I realized how much I actually missed by being so guarded. I also realize that there are men out there that can be in touch with their needs and can be honest about where they are at.

It was brief and I was upset over that brief encounter ending because I realized I what I been missing. I’m a little scared, but I am ready to be more open.

I want a partner! I don’t want a boyfriend or I don’t want a husband. I want somebody who will share in my excitement, my sorrows, my life experiences and I want to share theirs. I may not be ready to share my whole world with anyone just yet. However, I ready to share pieces at first. I know when the right person comes along I will be able to share my whole world.

For now I am ready start with pieces, and the process might be messy, but it might just turn out beautiful at the same time. It’s a whirlwind of emotions that are magnificent. I miss being vulnerable and letting people in. I’m not saying I don’t still have stuff that I’m working on and dealing with it, personal goals that I’ve set for myself, but I’m ready to be in the moment and not over think the next step.

Weekends don’t go as planned.

Baseball season has come to an end. This meant I was going to spend my kid free weekend playing catch up. It amazes me how behind three or four games a week can put you.

The list was made:

  • Paint
  • Go out for drinks with a new friend (Friday)
  • Laundry
  • Dishes
  • Pick up house
  • Weed gardens
  • Mow lawn
  • Pay bills.
  • Work on graduate school portfolio.
  • Family day Sunday night and Monday

Good thing I’m flexible.  I didn’t accomplish most of these things. I took an unexpected me weekend. I meet a man this week that is totally into me and wanted to spend time with me getting to know me.  This should be a great thing right?!?!

I should have been really excited and, for the most part I was.

We met up and hit it off. We talked and by the end of the night there was this kiss. That made me feel like I could crack open up the window to my heart.

The topic of public displays of affection came up. I am this girl with the right person, but it takes time. I spent many of my early years and a fourteen year marriage being the “prize.” The “pretty girl” on some fucktard’s arm.   I didn’t appreciate it then and will not be that girl ever again. I am too fucking smart and sparkly for that type of relationship.   So yes, I am guarded! I don’t want to be touched to in order to make another person jealous, man or woman. I’m a free spirit, and jealously is an ugly feeling.

I want to be touched because he can’t imagine touching someone else. I want a kiss in the middle of the party because the moment was right.  We spent both Friday and Saturday together with inmate conversation and touching.

He wants to give it his all, but has the fog and I am guarded and holding back. Why?

He is very much going through the reality that his marriage has ended. He has to decide if he can let go of the love he still holds for her.

I will and do not play second fiddle.

I have been this girl a couple of times in my recent dating experiences. I become their friend, listen and give them advice on the whatever the situation is, I tell them that I will not judge them and to follow their hearts. This leaves me in this no man’s land, usually the friendship fades as they wander back to their ex and I’m left with my heart a little bruised.

 

Brain vs. Vagina

I figure for my first post I would dive right in and give you a real glimpse of my thoughts.

I feel that more women actually have this internal argument than they are willing to admit. After my divorce, this was pretty much a no brainer. I wanted sex! You know the kind I am talking about hot, dirty, sweaty pig sex.

Oh man, did I find it!

Wow, I had forgotten how much fun sex could be when you don’t have the relationship crap attached to it.

After a few months, my brain started asking questions about this man that made my vagina so happy. Yes, he was good with his tongue, his fingers, and his dick. However, we had no other real connection.

My friends have labeled him as the “Fuck boy.” This on again off again sexual relationship has lasted longer than either of us expected and not because we belong together but because we can equally meet each other’s sexual needs.

This works because I am honest with him about my feelings. I have made it very clear that this works because we are not committed to each other. I am not saying we don’t get mad at each other. There are times when we can’t meet up because real life gets in the way. The key here is HONESTY. I know that’s a scary word, but it really is the best practice.

We have taken breaks because of emotions. About six months ago I took a step back from “Fuck boy” because I was reevaluating what I wanted. I dated a few men, but most could not handle my brutal truth. Yes, it’s very direct and can be intimidating.

I was on this date with this guy. I had a great connection with the exception of his humor as the night went on became very childish. At the end of the night, he came in for a nightcap. My brain was having this freak out session because I was not that into this guy, but my vagina was having a moment of it’s a man with a dick lets see if it works.

Then, it hit me, I was horny. I had not been laid in a while. Trying that whole let’s not have sex thing until all the connections meet. I sent this man home told him that I was not going to sleep with him. I enjoy are dated, but it didn’t go any further than that.

After multiple internal arguments, I caved and gave into my sexual urges. Queue Fuck boy. This was another one of the honest conversations. Rules and guidelines, we are both free to see other people.

No, the sex isn’t as often as it was, but it’s still just as satisfying as before. It’s a release of the stress of life and allows me to make better decisions when I evaluating who I want to give my time, my heart, and my energy too.

Brain knows that it’s time to find a stimulating relationship that hits all of my needs mental, emotionally, and sexually. But in the meantime, when rubbing it out isn’t enough, I know fuck boy will get the job done.