Catharsis

I’m not used to feeling helpless.  I don’t like feeling helpless.  I believe that we have considerable power over our own lives.  And I cherish my autonomy over my own life.  I honor others’ autonomy over theirs.  But sometimes, we feel like we know what is best for someone else.  Most of the time I’d say, fuck everybody else, do you.  But when it’s a life or death situation – I feel helpless when I can’t save someone who I think needs to be saved.  I am no savior.  I have no right to want to control someone else’s will.  I will patiently respect this person’s right to make her own decisions.  I will struggle to release my attachment to the outcome I want.  I hope she’ll be ok.

Horny and Stressed

Here’s the thing. There are times, like today and the better part of the last two weeks for me, when I could really say to hell with meditation and centering, yoga and breathing, clear thinking and all the rest and just pound out some stress and tension between the sheets. In fact, lack of regular sex contributes to my stress and tension. I am sure of it. But a “lady” is not supposed to say those things, not supposed to feel that way. Here’s your only warning – this post was not written by a lady.

Now, by “regular sex”, I may not be speaking of the same thing most women my age have in mind. I am talking about twice a day– 4 orgasm each time minimum, sweaty, throat hurting, legs shaky, no holds barred, sky’s the limit regular sex. I am 35 and have been frustrated for the better part of my adult life for want of a satisfying sex life. I tried marriage. That resulted in vanilla sex 3 times a month (if that). Vanilla because he didn’t want to “think of me that way” (read: the way he thought of the folks he paid for sex with); and 3 times a month because – who the fuck knows? Worn out from other antics, I suppose. The bottom line is that a completely uninhibited and confidently skilled, beautiful woman starved for satisfying sex with her husband for years. A separated, completely uninhibited and confidently skilled, beautiful woman tread super cautiously into the dating world because well, one just must be in this day and age – to find that men her age and slightly older tire quickly, recover even less quickly and can await the next time much longer that she can.

A divorced and ready to move on woman hopes for a satisfying relationship, a child or two (if they come at the same time), transparency, partnership, passion and love that endures – with the person who enjoys (with her, for the record) the satisfying sex life described above. I am struggling today and most days with the frustration and fear of not being able to find it all in one place. Right now, I’m just frustrated because the last time I had sex was too damned long ago and it probably wasn’t even that long ago for most people!

When I am experiencing balance and peace in my life, I find it much easier than this week to live in the moment. I find it easier to enjoy each encounter for what it is, without wanting or needing or hoping to cling to it and make it last forever. When I’m stressed because – well, my grandmother just died, the job I had lined up to help me relocate across country got offered to someone else, my rent renewal notice gives me two impossible options (sign another one year lease with no increase in rent, or pay almost $100 more per month to go month-to month), I am faced with choosing between living in a town I can’t afford and not being able to afford the move to a city I can afford to live in, my health and wellness plan has been shot to shit for over a month with the routine interruptions and sadness of my grandmother dying, and the fact that the person who is most willing to rock my world is the person I least want to rock it – I find it impossible to live in the moment. I want to solve all the moments right now. I want to wave a wand and have my perfect life and I want the person I want to comply with my plan to fall into place – naked and beautiful and ready to go whenever and for as long as I am willing.

I really need to get laid. Can you tell?

No, seriously, I think I have exhausted maintenance sex.  I am a very sexual woman with a somewhat unusual sex drive (I’m learning). I want more than great sex yet I’m not willing to sacrifice great sex.  Wanting is exhausting in and of itself – and possibly counter productive.  I want to unleash the secret of making my perfect life happen for me.  Right now.  This moment.  Because I am so horny right now and I want to roll over in these moments and know that that desire is going to be satisfied right away.  Sheesh!

Thanksgiving Already?! OR Don’t Potluck with Black Folks!

Thanksgiving is this week, People!!  Where has this year gone??

I was the bad guy and canceled our traditional family Thanksgiving dinner.  My parents have hosted dinner for around 30 people for probably as many years.  They are getting older and tired of not being able to take friends up on their invitations to do other things for Thanksgiving, but they didn’t want to say anything to anyone.  I jumped into my role (the one who calls out the elephant in the room) and told everyone that Turkey Day was up for grabs.  It doesn’t look like anyone else is going to host so we’re not having one unified family dinner this year.  I can’t help but wonder when I’ll hear the fallout from this.  [sigh]

We had a potluck at work today and I couldn’t/didn’t want to eat like I normally have for the holidays.  First, there was entirely too much food.  Second, I’m so much more conscious of what I eat and how I feel after I eat.  I was miserable after my plate of food today.  I don’t want to feel like that Thursday.  I’m going to be the weirdo eating little tiny plates of food (slowly), instead of chowing down like I used to.  Things are a’changin’!  Yay.  Go to Fine Tuning for updates.  I added a feed to the top of my sidebar here so that you can see when there are new posts there.

Speaking of potlucks, don’t every do potlucks with a bunch of black folks.  Seriously.  My people are the only folks I know who must know who made every single dish before they either try it or turn their nose up at it.   If you have ever eaten at a potluck with sisters especially, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

“Who made the macaroni and cheese?”

“Karen.”

“Oh, ok!”  {serves self with smile, wink and nod of approval}

vs.

“Who made the macaroni and cheese?”

“Sheila.”

“Oh!”  {wrinkles one side of face, while snatching head backwards and moving on to the dressing}

Never mind that Sheila is sitting right there as you pass over her food  with disapproval.  And God forbid someone bring something  store-bought.  That’s the horror of horrors.  But, hell, with the scrutiny your cooking is under in these situations I’d bring KFC too!  I didn’t, but still.  For all I know my dishes will be the ones to avoid next year.

Why, oh why are black women so damned catty???

I love them to death, but damn!!  Lighten up, Ladies.