DailyOJ 08-17-12, Part 1: Twitter War Triggers Blocked Chakra Energy
I’m writing this a few days after the fact for a couple of reasons:
1 – The events of this day were very powerful to me on an orgasmic and a human level. I needed time to process them.
2 – The GOP had to go all stupid (again), and the entire weekend was dealing with the idiocy of rape culture.
So back at the drawing board here… my headspace has been so filled with the memory of my rape and reading readers comments, telling me about their rapes, that Friday seems blurry… like it was 18 years ago and the rape was last week… or yesterday…
But the events of Friday were important so I will detail them, though perhaps not as elegantly as usual.
Friday morning began with getting my daughter on the school bus, after which I caught the local bus to the grocery store. While shopping in the produce section, a small Twitter war began in which I was being ridiculed for being from Mississippi — as usual, and also as usual, made to be at fault for all of Mississippi’s past ill history. Of course, I stood up for my state — my point being that Mississippi has a flawed past as do most states in this country. (What? New York was a slave state?! Yes. Quelle surprise! ) The New England states just like to think they’re perfect. They’re not.
The perception of Mississippi will never change because the media and American culture like having someone at whom to point the accusatory finger, to blame for all the bad things in the U.S., which conveniently keeps them from looking in the mirror and fixing their own problems. The news never reports the good things that happen here — just the bad… unless that bad thing is Hurricane Katrina — that the media reported hit New Orleans — it didn’t. The northeastern eyewall went over my house in Gulfport, MS, while we were inside, and I’ve got the coordinates to prove it!
As you can see, a lifetime of Post Traumatic Stress came up with that one stupid Twitter altercation, that ironically was with friends, but I was the butt of all the jokes and the lone voice for what is good and nice about Mississippi. This hurt greatly that the ridicule came from friends because the incident triggered deeper hurts that I have held on to since childhood.
Being from Mississippi, I am not good enough. For anything.
In dealing with the Broadway world for my day job and my radio show, I always dreaded being offered press seats that I would have to turn down because I don’t live in New York. Invariably, they would ask me where I live (because how can a person cover Broadway and not be in New York?! (From working very, very, VERY hard!). I dreaded giving the answer, but always said with a smile on my face and a lilt in my voice: “On the beautiful Mississippi Gulf Coast.”
Silence. Shock on the other end… “Well, you don’t sound like you’re from Mississippi!”… “Oh, really? And how do Mississippians sound?” (Like TV and Hollywood stereotypes!)… “Well, um…”… Then I feel obligated to explain my mother was a literature professor and my father was a physics teacher turned physicist for the government, to somehow prove Mississippians aren’t stupid. In fact, when I bought my new smartphone last year, I got a Manhattan number so at least when I ring the press agents, it just saves time not having to explain my area code… except that after three years, they know me now.
Having to defend myself just as an intelligent, well-read, educated, erudite ActivistArtist(TM) on a daily basis just gets old. It’s exhausting. And I realized it’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid. Trying to prove my worth as a human being regardless of one thing or another — the color of my skin, my freckles, my religious choices as a Pagan/Witch, being bisexual, having a child out of wedlock in a Red State, dealing with being molested as a kid, thinking I was doomed to Hell thanks to Catholic brainwashing, dealing with being raped as an adult and not reporting it for fear of public ridicule, losing my identity as a person and an artist thanks to my asshole marriage, regrouping with my musical work that was stalled because of the destruction of Hurricane Katrina, dealing with the bad economy, the BP Oil Spill, then becoming a single mom in an affluent artists’ hamlet. I’m just tired.
So Friday, after a week of horrendous back pain which began after I started back with KSMO, I got home, sat down at my desk, and had a really good, gut-wrenching cry. Not a pretty, dabbing-the-eyes cry. No, this was full-out, cathartic wailing.
The crying brought me to my source of the pain — the fear that I am not good enough to be loved by anyone. That if someone did love me, I have no idea why he would. The irony is that I know I’m kinda fabulous in many ways. I’ve got the bustline and the music fellowship grants to prove it. But deep down… deeeeeeeeeeep down, I still have issues…. being told I was ugly as a kid, being told I was fat, that I should kill myself, that I’m going to Hell — for numerous reasons, then actually being fat as an adult, losing my sense of self and place in this world, hearing my asshole ex-husband’s ridicule of my singing voice and my original music plus his hurtful words regarding my body if I got breast reduction surgery, complaining that I got too wet during sex, that I shouldn’t do anything during sex because he would get insecure.
At times, it just feels like I’ve spent 39 years of doing nothing right.
Within an hour of this little emotional breakdown, I noticed my back was loosening up. The pain, I then realized, was in a place in my back that I don’t normally get back pain. Usually, the knots are along my bra straps horizontally across my ribs and vertically in both shoulder blade areas. This pain was in the center, at the spine, directly behind my heart. I jokingly thought that maybe the crying had knocked something loose. Then I thought about that again. The excruciating pain I had had for a week was literally almost gone. The pain that was left was not the pain of clenched muscles contracting nerves (anymore), it was more like sore muscles, exhausted from clenching and spasming for the past week. I could move through those vertebrae again — and I had not been able to do that all week! The immobility through my back had prevented most kinds of orgasm — the stealth, Kundalini O’s make my back arch so there was no way to do that as I was accustomed… the few times I had stealth O’d, I literally tucked my pelvis so my back wouldn’t try to arch — not nearly as much fun. The nipple orgasms were completely nonexistent because the nipple’s nerves stem straight off the spinal cord in that exact area of my pain — the area of my physical heart and my esoteric/Tantric heart chakra.
Looking at the time, I figured I’d better get on with my session for the day. With the weekend coming up and the prospect of my period starting Monday-ish, I knew vaginal O’s would be another week away if I didn’t get this sh’O on the road… Now that my back could arch, I wanted orgasms!!!!
* Read Part 2 here! *
Aroused and unblocking,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 04-25-12 & REVIEW: OM – Getting OneTaste of an Orgasm Meditation
OM is the clitoris-centric practice brought to the masses by Nicole Daedone, author of Slow Sex: The Art and Craft of the Female Orgasm
Daedone is obviously passionate about getting this revolutionary information out to women, and so am I!
Speaking for myself, I find clit-only stimulation and orgasms to be extremely boring — or I did, before OM. Having discovered my She Spot over a decade ago, I’m rather an aficionado of blended orgasms, stimulating both my She Spot and clit simultaneously to achieve both the full-body waves of the vaginal orgasm and the fireworks’ explosion of heat of the clitoral orgasm. Since becoming acquainted with my prostate last fall and making peace with my breasts, I have been on a path of rediscovering my body now that I see it as truly mine — not a man’s plaything or a child’s source of nourishment.
I hesitated to even try the OM technique, which only lasts 15 minutes, because it is a couple’s practice, and I’m single. I tried it the first time and didn’t get much out of it, but that was completely my fault. After years of blended O’s, stimulating just the clit was weird, made even weirder because the fingering technique is not the hard and fast circles of friggin’ off women are so used to seeing in porn and doing on themselves. The OM touch is a gentle, subtle touch that I didn’t appreciate at first.
Clitoral orgasms are typically localized to the clitoral area, with an explosion that doesn’t leave any lasting orgasmic contractions the way vaginal orgasms do (for me, anyway). The clitoris is itself much more than just the “rosebud” visible from the outside. Also, after years of being on the vibration bandwagon thanks to effective marketing that makes women think “assisted” orgasms are better (they’re not), I had absolutely no feeling in my clit at all, unless I used a vibrator. My clit was dead. Having thrown my Hitachi Wand in the dumpster a year ago, I had to give my clit time to heal from the nerve damage while I began my new life as a Recovering Vibratoraholic. It was then I realized that by using a vibrator on my clit and a g-spot vibe inside to orgasm, I hadn’t actually touched my lady’s loins in a damn long time — this was exacerbated by my new life and new stresses as a single mother. The past year of bodily and orgasmic explorations brought me back in touch with the amazing textures, capabilities, and ever-changing environments of my genitals. I only WISH I’d known about OM-ing a year ago!
My second go with OM-ing was late at night, when I was in bed and generally feeling very Zen — i.e., lazy but not sleepy. I was too tired to drag out a toy and expend the energy that would entail, so it seemed to be the perfect time to try OM again. Thoroughly relaxed — a rarity for me, I allowed myself to have a goalless, non-attachment philosophy toward OM-ing. OM is simple and unpretentious, similar to how I like my sex. After all, OM is a technique to make orgasms better, not necessarily to orgasm at that moment — which was good because the thought of a lackluster clitoral orgasm wasn’t appealing. (I was tired, not crazy.)
I set the timer alarm on my phone for the requisite 15 minutes. As I lay there in the dark, with my nightly meditation CD playing, I began the finger technique on my clit — a very precise technique on an exact part of the clit — and began to have the most amazing sensations. Heat began to rise up from my clit and circulate like spirals of arousal energy snaking up my body and down my limbs. (You don’t have to subscribe to chakras and chi to get the benefits of this mojo either.)
I could have lived in this energy forever, and knowing I wasn’t trying for an orgasm seemed to take some pressure off, and before I knew it, a huge, full-body orgasm hit. My back arched, my legs kicked out, and I made my moans that I love so much. It was incredible. Actually, it was multiple. I kept up the precise fingering, and the wave/explosions kept hitting.
It was like having two separate experiences at once: #1: an in-body experience of the orgasms and feelings themselves, and #2: an out-of-body/observer experience that was shocked that I’d just had a full-body O via clit-only stimulation — and not the frantic circle stim either, but the soft, light, unassuming OM flick of the index finger across my long-unappreciated clitoris.
Then the 15-minute alarm sounded. I have never hated my phone more than at that moment!
The next surprise was the tears. Since finding my true orgasmic potential, my orgasms are always multiples, and the denouement is always emotional. The harder the gut-wrenching sobs, the stronger and more numerous the orgasms were. Crying after a clit-only session was definitely a new one for me!
Since then, my clit has been more responsive to touch and required less stimulation during my other orgasmic pursuits. While I’m still learning about clitoral and vaginal orgasms and how they differ due to the different major nerves that feed feeling to the separate areas, I’m a big believer in OM.
OM-ing is about discovery, and connection, and awakening. It is about emotion and relating, and I can only imagine how powerful OM can be with a partner.
The only downside I can see to OM is that men may view it as yet another practice in which they do all the “work” while the woman gets all the “benefits.” These insecure men probably wouldn’t appreciate the subtle genius of OM anyway. ***NOTE: Since the clit and the head of a man’s penis are synonymous, I would theorize that the OM technique could be quite delicious on the man as well, just re-set the 15-minute timer. ***
Yes, OM recommends a particular set-up or sacred space called “the nest” to create atmosphere as well as comfort. OM requires a specific position for both the woman and her partner. OneStroke Lube. 15 minutes. But once the OM-ing is done, you can both hit the bed (or the diningroom table) and continue with the merry-making. (Any straight man who wouldn’t want to spend 15 minutes’ quality time with his woman spread eagle on his lap needs help.) And for those who are woo-woo-minded, Tantra and other sex practices acknowledge that it takes 15-30 minutes of stimulation to get a women fully aroused and in the multiple orgasm zone. OM is a great way to spend that 15 minutes.
OM is available through OneTaste, which offers classes, videos, and workshops to hone the OM technique as well as improve the communication of the couple. After all, “relationship” is the active relating to another person. How often is sex bad because there is no relating between the people involved? Have a look at OneTaste’s Essentials Package for starters.
Have you tried OM-ing? Let me know by leaving a comment below!
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
To watch Nicole’s presentation at TEDxSF, click play:
DailyOJ 11-19-11: PC Muscles, Periods, and Belly Dancing
November 19, 2011
(* In response to a man who said young women should “exercise their PC muscles even if they are still relatively young there are so many benefits,” to which I disagreed and was asked by another man to provide “some instructive reasons” to support my feelings. *)
I’m a hu(wo)manist, and activist, and a temperamental Irish redhead, so any statement that includes “most women should” just naturally gets my hackles up. Nothing personal.
I think younger women are usually more physically fit and tend to be more sexually active than women who have the pressures and time constraints of work and kids, with added weight post-partum (leading to body image issues, lack of sex drive due to hormonal changes, and just being tired all the damn time). Therefore, younger women would not need to exercise their PC muscles because the muscle tissue is already firm and toned, through athletics, going out dancing, being more open to sexual adventures, et al.
It is the women in their 30′s and 40′s who have had physiological changes to their vaginal area, the widening and contracting of the hip joints and ligaments, and changes to the pelvic floor from carrying a child in utero and then giving birth that changes and possibly stretches the PC muscles to feeling weak. As we get older, the body parts shift, and sitting at a desk all day, in front of the TV at night, with such bad posture, certainly doesn’t help. This lack of general exercise women get once they are on the career path and have had kids tends to be quite sedentary compared to the long-ago traditions of walking for purposes of migration, foraging, and finding water.
Also, most PC muscle exercises (a.k.a. Kegel exercises) focus on squeezing UP. This is because the Kegels were designed to help women who were experiencing urinary incontinence — to encourage the sphincter qualities of the muscles and control “urine” leakage, especially during sex. (Those of us who subscribe to the veracity of Female Ejaculation as a legitimate sexual phenomenon wonder just how many of these women were actually ejaculators but forced into shame by an ignorant male medical system.)
For female ejaculation, the emphasis is pushing OUT, therefore Kegels are NOT the answer to better orgasms, but rather the death of the female orgasm. Squeezing UP cuts off sensation and compresses the tissues restricting blood flow and nerve endings. (NOTE: This purposeful “squeezing UP” is NOT to be confused with the natural reaction of the PC muscles to squeeze IN / vice-grip on their own, called the “clitoral cuff,” toward the entrance of the vagina as the vagina expands at the top during arousal and near orgasm.)
Women have lost our wymyn circles. In wymyn circles, we used to share these kinds of stories and experiences amongst each other. For instance, belly dancing, now a highly sexualized form of stripper / hooker / tease, is actually based in teaching teenage girls how to move their bodies during childbirth (and such movements’ obvious use in sexual / sensual settings with a partner). Hence the reason it’s CALLED Belly Dancing — you have to HAVE a belly to do it properly!
It annoys me to no end to hear women say they “can’t do belly dancing” because they don’t have a 6-pack. I quickly and, in no uncertain terms, explain that no woman with a 6-pack is geared for belly dancing because she doesn’t HAVE a belly. It is the breast-obsessed American perspective that has shifted the emphasis of belly dancing to breast-shaking. Belly dancing is an ART. And that “belly” isn’t just curvy flesh — there is extremely toned muscle underneath that has been trained to operate and shimmy in minute precision.
The “belly” comes from body fat as well as carrying a child. (NOTE to all: Women are SUPPOSED to have body fat!) The hip rolls, arches, hip drops, and other hip isolations are to stretch through the hip joints in preparation for the spreading of the hip joints beginning in the third trimester, as well as exercising the lower abs no one ever talks about. The rib isolations are NOT just to have the breasts go up and down for men’s ogling pleasure — they are to learn how to move your upper torso so you can still breathe when the kid inside is pushing your thoracic diaphragm up into your lung space. Abdominal and back rolls also help the body get used to involuntary movements during childbirth contractions.
If more women had a connection to our traditional women’s circles and sacred women knowledge, we wouldn’t need sex toys OR books. We would have elders to teach us and show us, passing the knowledge from one generation to the other. But until we officially shake off the mortal coil of western patriarchy and institutionalized religion that has made the female body sinful and sex evil, we have to get the knowledge somewhere and learn how to access these innate feelings somehow. So I am grateful for toys, books, CD’s, men who try so hard to understand us, and the women who are on the path of experimenting and experiencing what we are truly capable of sexually.
Aroused and journaling,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: FUCKING CHEROKEE MEN (AND OTHER PEOPLE OF COLOR)
OpEd: THE FACE OF ORGASM: IS YOUR WOMAN FAKING ORGASMS OR NOT?
DailyOJ: ALLOWING AND RECEIVING
