I quit blaming men for everything…

I know, in today’s angry feminist world, the “metoo” hurricane movement and its rapid after effects, what I’m about to say probably won’t be a popular opinion among many, but I still think it needs to be shared regardless.

I know the scale is tipping, and the overpowering, dominant, aggressive patriarchy with it’s toxic masculinity seems to be collapsing like the great Roman Empire with the arrival of the fast rising, even angrier and more aggressive feminist movement. Don’t get me wrong, I think it is a necessary change, something that’s evident and was bound to happen, no matter what…. yet somehow it still doesn’t sit well with me that now we assign men to be our scapegoats for all the problems in the world, we fight against them, publicly, heartlessly shame, humiliate and destroy them. Do some of them deserve it? Well… maybe… but who am I to play judge in this game, when I can’t even keep myself clean and holy for a day, let alone a whole lifetime. Plus, when did war ever end with war, or who put out fire with more fire? How will public shaming, humiliation, aggression, hatred, bad mouthing, anger ever bring peace, calm and balance to this world?

And no, I am not saying we should just sit there with our thumbs up our butts and let them do as they please … but I do think that the saying that “hurt people hurt people” is quite accurate, and if someone causes pain to another person, then in order to cure the disease – instead of just getting rid of the symptoms – you have to dig deep, find the root of the cause and heal it from there. Feminists seem -at least to me- that they only want to get rid of the symptoms, shift power and let women rule for a change. But in order to create a healthy world where we can all peacefully coexist (hahhaha listen to me and my futuristic, optimistic, delusional, Utopian daydreams) I think we need to heal men. Yes, obviously, women too…but right now, we should focus on men as well, because if they  heal, we women will benefit from it the most.

Why do I say this?

Because sometimes I play with the idea of me being a man and how it would feel  like to live in that body, in that social role, under those expectations…and let me tell you, I am not particularly wanting to be one. Yes, there are perks to it, as you never have to bleed on a monthly occasion, or put up with PMS for days before it (although we make sure that they suffer from it just as much as we do 🙂 ), be under the influence and mercy of your constantly changing hormones, give up your life  and body after having kids, suffer from work place inequity, or be on the less pleasurable side of this rape culture… gosh, you know what? You are right, what’s my point here? Men suck. End of story, period! 🙂

Nah, I do have a point though. When I pictured myself into a body and role of a man, I realized that there is tremendous pressure on them. From the get go they are cut off from their emotions and feelings. They are not allowed to express and talk about why they are sad, lonely, they can’t cry because “boys don’t cry, you are not a pussy, suck it up, walk it off and rub some dirty on it”. They are so disconnected from their feelings and emotions that we  can’t even blame them for not even realizing that they have any. When you are conditioned your whole life to not feel, or hide it and deny it…. are you surprised that you turn into a cold -hearted asshole?
Then there is the pressure of becoming the Alpha male, the Man, who is cool, who has the most chicks, and if you are anything short of that, then you are labeled as a loser.
Or being the breadwinner. You have the pressure to provide for your whole family, be able to bring home the cash, so that the wifey is happy and the kids are fed. That’s a whole lot of pressure on a person. I know, in today’s modern world women face it as well, but the aftermath of the old school mentality is still present in so many men that are still alive today and passing on their own twisted standards.
Then there is the hormone issue. Yeah, we deal with PMS but have you experienced extreme HORNINESS while ovulating? I know I am a walking sex-machine, and all I see everywhere is dicks. Sometimes I feel like grabbing a stranger from the street and doing him, because I am so under this urge, that I can’t think clearly. And this is only once a month. But at this time I always get a taste of how it must feel to be a man and not being able to stop thinking about sex. It is easier for women to say that “how hard it must be to not think about sex?” when your sex drive is close to zero, but when your hormones hijack your intelligence, you can’t think clearly and it requires a big dose of self-discipline indeed to do what comes naturally for a woman who is not under the “influence”. That’s why guys can only talk about sex and sports and cars because sex is a given … they are a walking sex machines, and the ones that are not, their testosterone levels have dropped drastically for some known or unknown reasons. And sports is because they wanna belong, feel part of the group (just like women) and that’s the only socially accepted public emotional way that they are allowed to talk about it and express it without the fear of being called a faggot. Then cars….because that’s the furthest thing from emotions, therefore a safe subject again.
Not to mention wars… who were disposable? Still are… MEN! They have to suck it all up, be brave, not show fear or terror, and walk into the hungry mouth of death with their head held high. Women and children have the luxury to appear weak and helpless, to show fear…but think about it: do men have this right as well?

So let me be the whistle blower here and blow the cover off of this species called men. They are a whole lot like us, women. Whether we wanna admit it or not, we are more alike than different.
Maybe they have a tougher exterior, maybe they show it differently, maybe they hit first instead of talking it out. Maybe they would rather punch a wall before they would ever show tears in front of others. Maybe they use different tools to get the human touch they crave so badly. Maybe instead of being their honest, open, vulnerable self, they hide behind their masks of masculinity of six packs, big guns and muscle brains, thick wallets and big sports cars.

mask

But underneath it all, if you scratch the surface a bit and dig a little deeper, you’ll find that they, too, have emotions, but they have not been allowed to express it as freely as we have because they have to seem cool, calm and collected at all times. (Therefore they die of heart attack most of the time). They like poetry, art and songs and kindness, but afraid to talk about it openly risking being labeled gay or a wuss. They need love and acceptance just like we do, but they might not even be aware of it most of the time.

But they are just like us. They want to be understood and respected, just like us. They long for their mother’s arms when they are in pain, just like us. They want to feel connection, just like us. And when they are sick, weak, or the wind of death has touched them a little, they are scared and afraid of it, just like us.

We are all humans. We are not against each other, but FOR each other. Instead of pointing fingers and blaming each other for our own suffering, we should first look into ourselves and see where are we doing the exact same things that we are so vocal about when it comes to accusing the other gender. Then once we found it in us (because we will find it, we are not that holy and innocent after all either) then work on solving the problem instead of intensifying it. A rambunctious child won’t change for the better with punishment, hatred, shaming and blaming. But will respond well to the right kind of attention, love, understanding, listening, providing space to be able to talk about their feelings, and help them feel like this world is a safe place for them to be honest as well.

Once they are healed, we are healed. Once one sees clearly, the whole world will clear up. But it all starts within, with us first. Man or woman, doesn’t matter. It starts in you and ends in you. That’s the secret that can’t be told, only lived.

 

I quit trying to figure it all out…

No, I have not quit my blog (yet), but it’s only a matter of time, knowing my personality… or my accumulated collection of patterns in this earthly flesh, as they would call a personality.

I don’t know, man….

The modern, western human is so depressed and depressing in these modern days. We spend our whole days in cement buildings, sitting in front of little black boxes, isolated, boxed up with our wild, random thoughts that attack us from nowhere, and we believe them without even questioning them for a second, then drive ourselves crazy with them. We barely ever move, or see the sunlight, interact with real flash and bone humans, mother nature, share emotions with each other. We just look at our mini computer in our hands 24/7, feeling “connected” but in reality we are only connected to a fake, manipulated, photo shopped virtual reality. We are constantly told to work hard, grind harder, hussle til we die, never give up, follow our passion, life our lives to the fullest, gain more and buy even more, get your dream job and after that dare to dream even bigger, always chase your own tail and never catch it.

And maybe it is necessary, in order to get us going, to make us “feel” useful, to make us spend prison time without contemplating the pointlessness of this life we have found ourselves in the middle of and can’t seem to be able to make any sense of it whatsoever. Because what is the point in reality???

We are born without being asked if we even wanted to. Then we just float around in this weird “oneness” where nothing is separated and we cry and laugh whenever the game-makers decide to. Then slowly we learn to attach symbols to different objects and we are hypnotized into this so called shared reality….or at least we think it is shared, but who knows, really?! Is there a way to prove it? Our perception of anything is very customized, very personal, depending on our filters, memories and understanding. How will I ever know what the other person is thinking on the inside? I can never be sure of anything. If they tell me the truth or is it a lie? Is anything really true after all? The longer you think about something, evidently it will turn into a lie. And if nothing is true, do I really wanna live in a world full of lies? Or having a big fat nothing underneath it all, would that be even better? Isn’t that even more depressing? Is it true that love is what all there is? Or is that another soothing, calming lie again to keep the masses sedated? Or is this just fear talking again?

I swear my mind drives me crazy! And who is that “Me” who is going crazy underneath it all? Really…..

So I stopped. I don’t want to figure out anything anymore. If I am just an avatar in the game, what can I do about it anyway? If I want to escape, how will I know that “out there” will be that much better? Or is it fear speaking again? Is really everything I ever wanted is on the other side of fear or is that just another Insta worthy quote for the masses again?

Ah, I don’t know, I don’t care.

I am not trying to figure it all out. What life is about…what my life is about?  What am  I supposed to do with my life? Is there free will or are we just puppets in this show called life? I don’t care if I have a purpose or not. What will that change anyway?

I’ll still ” chop wood, carry water” either way. What will knowing change in reality? Nothing.

I…or my Ego…just likes chewing on these thought bones endlessly and keeping itself occupied, because that’s it’s job. To spin, to chew, to think, to go crazy.

But maybe, just maybe, underneath it all, there is a quiet, calm, content and happy ME… maybe.

 

universe

I quit caring about everyone’s business but mine…

I am a friend. And empath. A helper. A listener and a counselor. A person who is always there for others, no matter how busy my life is or how drained I am at times. And I am good at it. (Not my words, but others’)

But enough is enough.

I like the minimalist approach when it comes to stuff and clutter in the house, and just recently I applied that method to the rest of my life as well. I decided to get rid of people in my life, all the friends I have, all the acquaintances, lovers, fuck buddies,  etc.
(I couldn’t get rid of my children or my mother, but trust me, I would have 🙂 )

I also deleted my apps that were distracting me and sucking my time away from me. Anything that makes me get in contact with humans, I closed down. I pushed myself to the desert, the edge of total bareness and emptiness.

“Why would you make such a drastic move?” you might ask.

Well, it got to a point where I realized that although I am there for everyone at any time of the day, and it helps them most of the time, in reality it drains me like nothing else. I take on their problems, I carry them, I try to solve them for them, and it effects me for the worse. But this weird urge comes from within me that I need to share, I need to educate, I need to tell people things, I need to help. But in reality, is that true?! Do I really NEED TO do all these things? So now I decided to give myself a break from all these “needs” and see if the world would collapse without my cooperation and without me holding up the pillars of it. (I have a strong hunch that it will go on just fine, but my ego is struggling to accept this concept 🙂 )

It all started with me wanting to go on a trip with my friends. My friends with whom we talked about it already and seemed excited about it as well. But when the actual planning part took place, they backed out, and not in a straight forward way- which I would have appreciated, -but a rather cowardly, beating around the bush kinda way. It did make me upset, and that’s what triggered my decision to take a break from the illusion of friendships that I thought I had, because the painful reality is that whenever they need me in a way they do, I am there for them, but when I -once in a blue moon – ask them to do the same for me, they don’t seem to understand the importance of it.  Ultimately we are always alone in this world, and I have known it deep down since I was little, but I liked the illusion that fooled me otherwise.
Yes, something in me was triggered, hence the decision of taking a break from my “friends” for a few months, but also it made me very happy as well, because it forced me to want to travel alone for a change, and do the things I “needed” them to do all alone. Because the only person who can make me happy is me alone, no one else. I can’t sit around waiting for everyone else to accommodate my wants and needs as I please, and I also am not obligated to do that for them either. I can do it and I certainly can please them as well, but that should be my decision, my choice and wanting nothing else in return. So this whatever happened made me stop a bit, analyze why I was doing things in the first place and I realized  that while I’ve been doing all that service to others, I have not been taking care of the only business I was responsible for: MY OWN BUSINESS.

Here I am going around mingling in everyone’s life, meanwhile abandoning my own. My life is empty, chaotic, frantic and emptied out, all because the owner of that business is gone, being busy with everyone else’s problems but hers.

I can’t blame my friends for it, they had nothing to do with it. It was all my choice and my own fault. This situation- no matter how painful it was at the moment-  just pushed me back towards myself again, woke me up from my delusional ways of leading my life and for that I can forever be thankful to my friends. Because even the “bad things” are good for something and this emptying out of my life, sitting down with myself and all that time on my hands now makes me take a closer look at my real self, my real wants and needs, helps me get rid of the old bad habits and forming some new, healthier habits instead. It also makes me panicky sometimes because when you are not doing the same old distracting things, what are you really gonna do with all that time on your hands? Also when I have a thought and I am wondering what they are doing or how their lives are, it forces me to let that thought just happen in my mind and not actually act upon it. It forces me to actually not try to help others with advice when I do meet up with humans, just let them talk freely and listen to them and tell myself on the inside that “indeed, it is not my problem, not my business” and let it all go, without the inner urgent need to interact, to enforce my own philosophy, my own vision and my own mind onto it. Just letting things be as they are, people be who they are and be at peace with it, without trying to change one single thing about it.

It is eye opening to say the least. It is getting me out of my comfort zone and is shifting my perception, but I am loving this ride. It is making me reevaluate myself, my old wiring, why I do things and do I really need to be like that? I feel like deep within it is creating a whole new “me”.
You know when you want to clean your fridge, first you have to take everything out of it in order to get to it. I feel like I am the fridge that’s been overused and neglected, in need of some TLC. People are the fillers in it.
Once I have emptied my life from distractions and clutter, I will see what it all looks like, what needs to be repaired, what needs to be fixed, or cleaned….and THEN…. whatever is still good and useful will go back to the fridge, and whatever has expired, gone bad is going out of my life. Same with people, relationship, habits.

Cheers to new endings and even newer beginnings!

cheers

 

I quit chasing the next moment…

pole-dancing

As I watched back my pole dancing videos (Yes, I do pole dance, and NO, I’m not a stripper…mind-blowing, isn’t it?) I was not happy with what I saw. Others seemed to like it, but I was bothered by something that I couldn’t really pinpoint. Something just didn’t feel right. Seemed rushed, pretentious, timid… something was off. So I sat with this feeling and instead of being ashamed, and run away from it, I was in this uncomfortable mess, trying to analyze where the feeling was coming from. What was the source of the “off-ness” of the dance?

And then I found it. I located it. It was the “not validating this moment, not lingering in it, not living it and being in it, but already thinking about the next move, and feeling like I am already behind”. Like “I’ve done this, there you go, now I gotta go, otherwise I’ll miss that invisible train.”.  While I am at the post where I have to be in that moment in time, I feel like I am already behind, because I’m not at that imaginary next step already. But that made the whole performance unenjoyable -at least for me – was that anytime I enjoyed watching someone  dance on the pole was exactly because they weren’t scared to linger in the moment, to hold the pose for 2-3 spins straight, instead of rushing into the next move too quickly. They take their time to get into a pose, and then stay in them while breathing into them for many spins and they are not afraid to be vulnerable in it, to get lost in it and show that they actually enjoy it. They are just there and we get enough time to take it all in. Because without a witness, what is the art worth?

pole-dance-photo

So that’s how I learnt that this is exactly what I do in EVERY other single area in my own life. I rush through every phase in my life as if it wasn’t important enough because I already know it, I am already in it, and that’s not where I need to be but at the next step, next phase, next anything that brings me closer to happiness. Because happiness as we all know it, is only the “next pose, next step, next job, next house, car or boyfriend away only”. 🙂 Right there, just an arm reach away, never where we are right now at the moment! 🙂 (if you haven’t caught up yet, I am being sarcastic)

But (I don’t know how to not start my sentences without a BUT or an AND…and none of them are appropriate sentence starters.) in order to create a masterpiece, and enjoyable art out of my life, I need to linger longer in each pose, in each step and each phase, without rushing into the next chapter, thinking I am already late from the movie of my life. I already missed my chance. There is time. Mostly because time is an illusion. There is nothing ever real but the NOW, the present. And the more “time” I put into it, the better the piece will look. Some poses require more time to sink in, to give the chance for the audience to take it all in and admire it, and some poses are quicker, more surprising. But (here again!…”BUT”) i I rush through it all, and there are no dramatic pauses, longer lingers, breathing into shapes and forms, therefore the harmony, the rhythm and the beauty of it is all lost in a hectic, chaotic hot mess and this is not what I am aiming for.

Take your time in each day of your life,  each step on that ladder and each phase of your life. The more painful the pose is, the prettier it looks, and the more you have to be in the moment to really do it well. Just like life. When it really hurts, that’s the time to really zone in, get centered and breath into it, relax into it and not rush getting out of it quickly.

Now go and make that masterpiece, God and Goddess! 😉ad_121400460

I quit slut-shaming myself (and others)

ROSAMOSARIO_BEDOUIN-ROMANCE_COVER_1200x680_crop_center

I live in a delusional world. And so does everyone else.

Up until yesterday the picture of me in my head was an innocent, playful but harmless little girl who is not that into sex, not that comfortable with her sexuality and is certainly not using her sexual powers to seduce men. Not only that she doesn’t use them, but purposefully suppresses it as well. Just like Elza in Frozen. She is aware that she has a cool and powerful superpower, but since it can be used for destruction once in a while, she is better off not using it at all.

Well, that was ME in MY HEAD…. until reality came knocking on my door. I was talking to a friend of mine about men and my experience with them, when that specific friend asked me to finally write down the list of the guys I’ve had sex with after my marriage. I got divorced 3 years ago, so I had to go all the way back and try to remember everyone I had sexual encounters with. To my surprise, I have forgotten many of my one night stands, but they slowly kept creeping back into my memory field. Obviously I couldn’t remember names, so I listed them as the “juggler guy”, or the “guy I had sex with in tall grass in front of the club”, or  “4 rounds stoned sex one-nighter”. And the list went on and on and on until I hit 36 (THIRTY-SIX!!!). Then I stopped straining my memory muscles and quit counting. I stared at the list in utter disbelief. Quickly called my 2 closest friends and quickly did their math but they could only come up with 12 at the most for the last few years. So “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the slutties of them all?” And here I am the whole time thinking I am the most innocent among my friends. Talking about delusions….

The feeling of shame and unease came over me as I was struggling with this number. Tried to make it look pretty in many ways, divided it by the number of months and it turned out I had one guy for every month. Which, if you put it that way,  is not that bad. If I say that I had once a month sex in the last few years, it is not slutty at all. Matter of fact, that’s a pretty sad fact. So sad, that I should almost feel sorry for myself.  So now instead of feeling shame for being a slut, I am feeling sorry for not getting laid enough. Talking about being confused.

Thirty-six! Is it too much or too little??? Where is the limit between a normal human sexual appetite and a whore and who gets to pick that magic number? Is 20 still acceptable but 21 is crossing the line? Or is 36 still somewhat acceptable but 60 would be unforgivable? And does it make a difference if a man or a woman is the proud owner of this number? Does 36 make a man an average fuck, but makes an instant slut out of a woman? Why do guys become kings of the sheets with the increase of this number, yet a woman should be ashamed of herself if she dares to open her legs to more than 5 visitors within her lifetime?!

So after a flood of moral questions washing over my tiny brain of mine, I quickly gave up on the idea of slut-shaming myself. What for? And what’s the point anyway???

As Kierkegaard said it so beautifully: “Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.”

Well, I have experienced it, alright?! At least 36 time, and I don’t regret any of them. They all taught me something, they all made me feel one way or another, and they all showed me a different side of myself, of my sexuality and personality. What is there to regret? Who says that sex should only be enjoyed within a committed relationship or with one person only? And if I don’t have that one magical person around, what should I do? Put my pussy up on the shelf and let it dry out? Grow a bush on it and hide it until Prince Charming comes along and graces me with his dick presence? Nope. Not this pussy. She is way too curious and too alive to be left in the dark, neglected and alone. She wants to come out and play. Experience what life has to offer, and take all the pleasures (and sometimes pain) it can. No shame in it and I won’t buy into that old school patriarchal ideology that a woman should be immaculate for her man. (Yet the man can screw any maid and mistresses he pleases). That time has passed.

So here I am with the number 36.

I’m planning on putting some more work into it eventually and hopefully the numero 40 will be the magic number. A guy I can give up collecting trophies for, and settle down with…at least for 36 months. (Ok, knowing myself it’s not months, it”s weeks….maybe 36 weeks…that’s more doable and reasonable in my life)

c8da23c09876f4fc43c778d00a00d1c5

I quit chasing the big O

Yes, Orgasm!

I don’t care about them anymore!!! Life is just better like that.

No, it doesn’t mean I don’t have sex anymore, but I just don’t chase this end goal and destination as if it determined how enjoyable and “successful” that round was. I don’t understand this societal pressure about wanting to have one or give one (or ten). And people (mostly men, if I want to be honest) measure their “success” or manhood by the numbers of orgasms they could “give” to the woman.

First, and foremost, no one can give a woman an orgasm, BUT herself! If she can’t relax her mind enough, can’ center in the now enough, she will not be able to cum even if the guy is performing a  Cirque du Soleil act on her, because she will be preoccupied with the endless grocery list or her oncoming headache. But I don’t want to minimize the role of the man after all, since he is not just there to carry a warmed up cock on his body, but also to stimulate the woman’s mind and body at the same time (or hopefully so, because unfortunately there are many men out there who prefer the wham-bamm-thank you ma’am jackrabbit style f*cking). But where was I?

My point is basically that men can do whatever they want, but whether the orgasm happens or not, that doesn’t have much to do with them. It is a good news thought! You guys can all relax… and then while so relaxed, pick up the Slow Sex book and educate yourselves. Most women have a hard time achieving (btw, I don’t like that this  word implies another “achievement” and masculine energy, go hustle and push hard until you reach the top) ORGASMS, because of hundreds of reasons. Influence of a conservative mom, religious hangups, shame and guilt around the topic, low self-esteem, shyness, fear of your own wild feminine, hormonal imbalance and physical reasons, etc…
And then if that wasn’t enough reason, there are those weirdos like me, myself and Irene, who is absolutely illogical when it comes to cumming. I noticed that every time I fully enjoyed the whole sexual encounter and I felt loved, safe, desired and sexy as hell, and the energies were flowing freely between us, I enjoyed so much of every moment of it, that I was not possibly able to bring myself to the top and end it. But with guys I didn’t care about or was even somehow taken aback by them, I came all the time. I made myself cum…again, not their achievement, because I did the work on my own body, but I managed to cum.

So now tell me, how is this even possible? How is this a reflection of the quality of the sex you are having?

So I recently had an amazing night with a guy I am madly in love with, and I told him that the whole night we are not allowed to cum at all. Whenever we get close to it, we will slow down and calm down. Believe it or not, that was the most fantastic night so far. We had passionate, sensual, loving and amazing sex for 3 hours without cumming once, and I can not tell you how great that was. We were in the present moment the whole time, taking it all in, not trying to get anywhere, reach anything, but soaking in all the sensuality, all the passion, all the desire and giving it back to the other one. Without an agenda, a final destination, you can just be in the now fully present and not having to rush anywhere makes each and every moment that much sweeter.  It showed him how great sex can be just for the sake of sex, and not because you got to a final destination and you achieved a goal.

I highly recommend it to any couple out there to try this out once in a while.

sex

 

(PS: We did have sex in the morning and did cum 😉 and that was good, too!)

I quit criticizing my body

Have you ever heard the rumors that models have low self-esteems and constantly criticize their bodies? Silly, huh? One would think that someone who looks perfect from the outside might be endlessly happy on the inside. But that’s certainly not true.

Looking back on my childhood pictures, I can totally see that others were right. I always thought I was fat in high school, and never understood how no one else could see this obvious truth besides me. Thanks to certain conditioning and wiring from our closest family members, we all have some very messed up way of thinking about ourselves, and I wasn’t left out of this little gift of humanity either. My mother made sure to drill it into me that if I didn’t watch what I eat and constantly obsessed about how much I consumed, then in no time I would become a fat beach whale and no one will ever like more, nor marry me. Well…. I might have paraphrased & exaggerated a bit, but you get my point.

So I was obsessed with how much I ate, and as every great teenager with an eating disorder, I made sure that I properly starved myself all day and night. Interestingly enough, the more I tried to lose weight, the more weight I seemed to gained. Then hitting rock bottom a few years into this masochistic habit, I gave up and I didn’t care anymore about my weight and body. Oh, well, actually, my biggest heartbreak of my life assisted me with this decision. Since my first love left me unexpectedly, I couldn’t look at food anymore and I lost so much weight, that my family was seriously thought I might had cancer. After that, being fat or skinny was the least of my worries.

Then other boyfriends came into the picture, and with them SEX also arrived into my life. With sex came nudity, and with nudity came awareness of the existence of ignorant manly opinions about certain body parts of women. I was around men enough to hear how they talk about women (although I gotta admit, women are not any better either, right ladies?! ) and thanks to that, I shifted the focus of my obsession from food to certain body parts. My boobs got the biggest limelight and also my vagina. They were too big, too unequal, too saggy, too big areola, too big nipples, too weird pussy, etc…

Any by too this or too that, I mean anything that didn’t look exactly like the body parts in porn movies. Since I didn’t get to walk around and check what’s under everyone’s clothes,  I had to get my information from other, “trusted” sources. 🙂

Then when I got tired o beating up myself for my intimate parts, I migrated up north to dissect the rest of my body. My belly button was a bit of an outie. Not sure when it came to my awareness that an outie is a horrible insult against society, and whoever has it should cover it up shamefully, but I remember how free I was before I knew about all these. Then I realized that my nose was humongous, my head was much bigger than the rest of the people on this Earth, and although my ears were too big –according to me, of course– I could hide that atrocity with my hair from the eye witnesses. My upper lip didn’t have that Angel’s touchy indent in the middle that everyone else happened to have, BUT me! Then my fingers were sausages, too short fingers, too robust palms. Not to mention the 11 lines between my eyebrows after I turned 20. Holy crap, could I obsess about them for hours after taking any photos of me?! My teeth weren’t perfect either. My butt was too small, too flat, too this, too that.  Can you believe I never wanted to wear a crop top, because of my belly button? How I didn’t want to get into the water because that would have required a bikini that I was not ready to wear, only because of that minimal excess tiny skin in the middle of my banging, 6 pack washboard abs, damn it. Can you imagine that I only wanted to have sex in the dark, and never let guys go down on me?
Good lord, how crazy  and self-critical can we be and how much fun I missed out on?

Yesterday at gymnastics class my 4 yr old (remember, FOUR!!!!) kept her sweater on and was uncomfortable the whole hour, but wouldn’t take it off for the love of her life. I asked her at home why she didn’t take it off and she said:
– Because my ARMPIT was showing in my leotard….
– And what’s wrong with armpits?- I Dared to ask.
– It sticks out (like a side boob) and has lines in it!!!! – answers a FOUR year old.
She is already self -conscious, but trust me, she didn’t get it from me. I have thankfully healed from this “not good enough” social plague already. There was a time when my distorted body image held me back from all the pleasures in life, but not anymore. I turned 30 when I realized what an idiot I had been for so long and consciously started accepting everything on my body, WITHOUT an exception. I showered ALL parts with loving acceptance and decided that no matter who says what, I am good the way I am.

My body has been such a loving, quite, accepting servant, vehicle for me from the very beginning. It takes me to places, it introduces me to delicious tastes, wonderful sights, warm, sweet smells, and soft touches and cuddles. It does whatever I tell it to do, and doesn’t complain when I abuse it. It houses me day and night, works very hard to heal itself when I mess it up with overworking it or not feeding it properly. It gifted me two beautiful and vibrant kids, grew them and brought them to this world, and fed them with itself for years.  It is doing it’s job without my supervision over it and never asks for anything in return. And I have been doing nothing for 30 years, but criticizing it and hating it for every little imperfection. Or at least, things I DEEMED as imperfections.

I said stop! It’s enough! It deserves something much better than that.

And I stood in front of the mirror, looked at it fully (I might or might not have been high at this time) and started noticing all the beauties of it. The long, beautiful hair, the pretty face, the mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, the long neck, the firm, toned arms, the flat belly with six-pack, the curves on my side, my perfect thighs, my toned calf muscles, my silky smooth skin, my fetish worthy feet and everything in between. And I fell in love with it. I became my biggest cheerleader, my greatest lover. And let me tell you, since then, I have had the greatest experiences of my life. I have experienced sex that’s just out of this world, tastes without guilt, the joy of movement and dance and art, and I wear that bikini now as if I had the most gorgeous belly button in this entire world.

I’m gonna keep doing this and I hope that not just my words, but my whole life will convince my little daughter that everything on her is perfect as it is, and she will be her own biggest admirer and cheerleader as well.

momy dau

Quitting to-do list

I love quitting, and since I’ve practiced it so much, I can rightfully say that I am a master at it by now. Yet, I still have so many things I would like to know how to quit.

These are the things I wish I could quit:

  • thinking it’s my fault and I did something wrong when someone doesn’t call me back for a second or third date.
  • creating horror stories in my mind when something doesn’t go the way I expected
  • eating meat (but that thing just taste too good, and I am too lazy to come up with new recipes)
  • not to see the negatives in people so early on in the game
  • seeking love, approval and understanding from other people, and give it to myself fully.
  • thinking that happiness is out there, a career, a thick bank account, a devoted lover or a long travel away. It isn’t.
  • obsessing about “knowing” and could just appreciate and focus on “being” instead.
  • Chocolate Hazelnut Milkshake from BurgerVille (but that shit is too addictive, and I’ll just have to endure the torture until it is finally off- season).
  • thinking that I am not a good enough mom, just because I don’t live up to the false, unrealistic image I’ve created in my head about good moms. Or thinking life would be better if I didn’t have kids. (because that’s not true…but I sure can convince myself often about it)
  • holding on so tight and just let everything go… let myself go…. let everything flow.
  • thinking….obsessing about certain thoughts.
  • Tinder ( it always comes back to my life, promising me the world, and leaving me empty and nauseated)
  • being so hard on myself sometimes
  • being afraid to speak up, ask for what’s mine.
  • doubting myself and my talents, skills.
  • staying up late at nights and waking up tired the next day. (that’s why I’m stopping now and going to bed!)

 

The list is not finished, but I quit in the middle …

Although I have my work cut out for me, and one will be harder than the other to accomplish, I am still hopeful that my quitting skills will get better and better with time, and I will be able to check off all of these bulletpoints on the list.

(Not sure about the milkshake though…. that probably has crack cocaine in it, and I am hopelessly weak against that.)

milkshake

Quit the busyness of life

Have you noticed how busyness in this modern world became a thing to brag about? Every time I ask people how they are doing, the answer is ” I’m good but very busy. Just running around like a headless chicken.” And have you notice that most people are never busy enough to make sure that everyone around them knows how busy they are. They are posting it on social media, text it to friends and they talk about being busy all day long. As if being busy is a validation for their existence, their hard work in life and it qualifies them as a good, important citizen of the world. We have to be busy, or seem busy, to fool ourselves and others, that what we are indeed doing something important. So important that if we had stopped doing it, the whole world would collapse without our assistance.

In reality, most of us are just hiding behind this busyness. Hiding from our real feelings, our real pain and our own selves. Because if we had to slow down even for a day, silence our minds for a second, uncomfortable thoughts would pop up to the surface. Thoughts that are silenced with busyness on an average day. But in the silence they come up, full frontal to the surface, and we will have to hear them out, listen to them and deal with them. Acknowledge that they exist. And most of us are not ready to do that. So we bury ourselves in 16 hr work days, working out all day, growing a mile long to-do list, and at the end, drinking/smoking/etc so that we could handle the silence when alone.

I had two part time jobs and when I wasn’t buried in work, I had the kids to distract me from me. I did it while I could, but the beginning of this year I celebrated my birthday. January is my birth month and I did the unexpected. I looked at my finances and I realized that I don’t necessary HAVE TO work both jobs with full force, and I will still stay afloat somehow. I can take a break. I can give myself the luxury for a whole month to spend some time with myself and see what arises. After a little struggle from the mind, thinking ” but what are you gonna do? isn’t that too much of a luxury for you? how dare you being so lazy? (this thought came with my mom’s tone of voice 🙂 ) you are gonna be wasting your days when you could be earning money. blah, blah, blah”…

But I still did it. I cut my hours way back at my first job (that was stressing me out) and there I was, sitting face to face with me, myself and I with all that time on my hands.

At first I was struggling. Gosh, what am I gonna do? Funny how when I am very busy, I think I would do soooo many things if only I had time, but as soon as free time presents itself, I am lost and can’t think of one thing to do. Thankfully I didn’t have to think much, because as you know it, life is happening with or without your permission, and so it did in my case as well. Life was happening and I watched it happen, and after a deep breath, I even engaged in it wholeheartedly. I did everything it presented to me to do. I went on hikes, got a massage (haven’t had one in years), went to a sauna, I did yoga, I purged the whole house and got rid of so many things, I hung out with friends, went on walks, read books, went shopping for myself (which I haven’t done in months), started writing again, picked up pole dancing as an exercise and lived every moment as it came. I took every moment without judgement but let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Judgment arises whether you like it or not, want it or not. It comes up. Self criticism, self hatred, in a form of ” you’ll never be enough if you don’t push hard, if you don’t work all the time, if you don’t make a lot of money, if you don’t figure out what you want to do in your life, time is ticking, quick, quick, hurry up, you gotta make something out of your life like yesterday.”

You know what? In reality, these thought were not new visitors. They were always there in the back of my mind, I was just too busy to notice them and to hear them out. And now that nothing was distracting me from them, I could hear them loud and clear.

So what am I gonna do with them? Believe all that they say and run back behind my cover of work and distraction? Hell no. No matter how much my habits and fears were screaming yes.

Instead I sat down with them, listened to them, heard them out and noticed them all. Then I stopped and asked if they were true? All the accusations, all the fear based concepts, all the threats of the mind…. turned out none of them were true. Turned out, all the hard wired, deeply drilled thoughts, concepts and “truths” were nothing but a lie. A lie I believed for 3 decades without questioning them once.

Once I discovered the true nature of my thoughts, ideas that were driving me crazy for so long, I gave permission to myself to just relax into being. Just relax into my body, my mind, my soul, my present moment, and stop future tripping about “what will be?” and thinking that I am in control of the whole universe. Instead I made my number 1 focus to do what seem, feels right to me. To listen to me more, to make myself a priority (which again, in today’s world, in mommyland, it is not a well-accepted idea) and by getting rid of soul and time sucking activities in my life, I provided the space and time for new ideas to pop up in my life. And they did. They had to. Something had to fill up the void that it created. And what a ride it has been. I am enjoying my days, I learnt to enjoy the art of non-doing, the gift of being, the listening, (to myself and others), the weightless being, the less panicking, and the more relaxing days.

There is life beyond busyness. Matter of fact, that’s where real life really starts.

So dare to “unbusy” yourself, and be brave enough to rest, relax, play and listen once in a while. It is worth it.

“It takes courage to say yes to rest & play in a culture where exhaustion is seen as a status symbol.” (Brene Brown)

 

I quit feeling guilty

Feeling guilty is an absolutely useless and unproductive emotion. It does nothing to change the past, totally ruins your present and will most likely not help you act differently in the future either. No matter how much we hope that the longer we torture ourselves with this feeling, the better we will be in the future. That’s bullshit!

I had a long talk with my friend today about how I acted with my kids recently, how irritated I got early in the morning when I was not fully awake, yet they were already  sucking my blood and energy with full force. I told her I was not proud of how I behaved, but also, I was not giving into this guilty feeling that was slowing creeping up on me whenever I was think about the past. Because I am a human being with my own limitations, my own weaknesses, and no matter how much I’m trying to be holy and immaculate and this mature adult persona, I still have my Achilles heel, and that’s too much noise too early in the morning. So I have two roads in front of me:

1) I can either sit here, feel like a shitty miserable human being and beat myself up over what I did, but that’s not gonna change anything in the past at all. I won’t be able to go back and redo it. And even if I would be able to go back, feeling how I felt at the moment, thinking the thoughts I had at the time, I realize I had absolutely no choice BUT to act the way I did. I was believing my thoughts. I believed that humans shouldn’t be able to utter a word before 9 am and I believed I was tired, sick and exhausted. I believed I was irritated. So based on what I believed, the only way I could respond is barking at my kids to leave me alone until I prepare breakfast. That’s it. I can drive myself crazy with the “shoulda, woulda, coulda”s of life, but what good would that do, and how would that change anything???? It would just make me feel even more shitty about myself…and we all know how good, mature and responsible those humans act who feel horrible about themselves.

*OR*

2) I can just accept that the past has happened the way it happened, and I have no control over it anymore. I can make amends, apologize to my kids, tell them that I prefer silence in the mornings and we can work out a plan how to coexist in the mornings so everyone is happy in the future. And I did it all. Plus on top of it all, I threw a HUGE amount of self love and forgiveness into the mix.

But how could you? You don’t deserve it?! You should feel ashamed longer. You messed up! What’s to love about that? About you? How can you possibly love a person who yells and isnangry in the mornings? How can you possibly love that part of you?”

Well, guess what?! That’s part of me, too. Just like the nice, the funny, the happy, the flexible, the creative me, so is the annoyed, cranky, irritated, loud, angry parts. They all create the whole and I LOVE every little bit of it. Especially the ones that don’t deserve love. Because those parts NEED it the most. And I accept them. I won’t fight against them. Because the more I fight and deny them, the stronger they get, and the more frequently they come back. So I accept them as they are, part of me, part of you and part of everyone. And I love that I get to experience how it feels to be angry, annoyed, cranky and irritated. That’s part of the human existence package I signed up for. No one said we should always be holy, quiet and balanced. So why should I put this unrealistic expectation on me?

I am human, and I love that. I have all kinds of emotions and I love that. I lose my temper and I love that (because that way I can relate to people who do as well). I realize when I fuck something up, and I love that (how mature I become). I apologize when I am aware of my fuckups, and I love that.(props to me) I love the whole process, because why not? Going against it and arguing with it will make me lose that battle (but only a 100% of the time, as Byron Katie so wisely said).

So that’s how I broke up my on again/off again relationship with my boyfriend, Guilt. It was an unproductive, not efficient, toxic relationship, and I am better off without him!

So long Jimmy… I mean, Guilt!