Fuck you world.

While I look through my dead uncle's facebook. I just have to say Fuck You World. And God wherever you are, if you had some kind of message to send or some type of choice in the matter, seriously Fuck You. This had better be a random chance event of no worldly significance. I will never take for granted the existence of such a down to earth and generous person. I will always strive to connect with others, to be thoughtful and hospitable to others, to encourage greatness in others, to be selfless. These are your parting gifts to me. They will not be forgotten.

Fuck this.

Progress Log Keeps Getting Better

I put a finger in, all of the way. It just kept going further and then I was feeling the inside of me. I felt myself, my own body. I pressed on the walls, it felt hard. I didn't feel any pain. I didn't feel any anxiety. It was just a finger inside me. Then I was hooking up with my friends with benefits. He got it in pretty far too. This time it did feel more painful, but not like it used to be. I didn't feel nervous or scared. It was just a finger. He said he could feel my g-spot. I have a G-Spot. Just like everybody else. There was a finger in me. That finger felt stuff. I felt that finger. That happened. And it was sometimes good, sometimes uncomfortable. But nothing like before. And one finger is almost two fingers. And two fingers is practically three fingers. Which is more than enough for a penis. Here it comes.

I thought about it, when i'm "fixed" so to speak, that I would just want to fuck everything and everyone. But the truth is, besides alleviating guilt, and helping me orgasm, nothing is going to change really. My curiosity will be satiated. I'll be a normal adult, with a normal sex life I guess. Kinda like before. I'll stop resenting my body so much. But you know. I already have forgiven my body. I don't resent it so much anymore.

Ultimately, when I went to create my to-do list, it was quite short. I can think of three people in my life I would honestly love to jump once I've made my sexual debut. Two of them I've already hooked up with anyways. The list goes as follows: My current crush, my ex, and the guy who comes into my workplace a lot and chats with me. And that's my hit list. I barely know that last guy, so maybe I wouldn't actually want to get with him in the end. He's really hot though. All of these people on this list are super smart, super hot, successful guys with good jobs. It seems criminal that I should have such high caliber of people that lust after me and I also lust after. Me, small  and childlike, pock marked with acne even in adulthood. I have since lost my real job and work a menial labor job. But you know, I have plenty of value to offer to others. The people who I perceive as sexy and awesome, are softspoken, awkward and single still. They just want to relate to others the way I do. You live and you learn. All day, every day. Living and learning. And hopefully fucking.

Because I Have a Fear of Saying Sexual Things Aloud

I have a problem. I suck at saying the things I want aloud when it's important. Like when I'm in a really sexy situation and someone asks me what I want and I freeze up and just can't say it. I know exactly what I want. But saying it out loud seems incredibly stunted and unsexy when I hear my voice saying it. But I actually really love it when people talk during sex. So why can't I talk during sex? I don't think I've ever said the word pussy, or cum, or tits even. Why the hell would that be? So I, horny as I have become, must conquer this problem so I may have really awesome sex. Time to swallow the embarrassment.

What do I want you to do to me?

I want you to kiss my neck, then I want you to suck my tits until I'm nice and wet. Then I want you to lick my pussy real slow until I can't hold it anymore. And then I want you to rub my clit while you whisper sexy things in my ear until I come.

Then when that is all said and done I will get on my knees and suck your hard cock until you come. And I will swallow it all like a good girl.

Then we can get dressed and go out for drinks.

Sincerely,

A horny, horny person.

Finishing

I want to make you come. And I want you to make me come. And if not, we'll have fun trying.

Bodily cooperation

At some point in time, our bodies have failed to do what we wanted to. For a person like me, my body has failed me nearly every time I try to get intimate. But despite the overwhelming narrative that declares stellar performance each and every time the clothes come off, I'm here to be the voice of reason. It's okay to enjoy sexual contact even when you don't come, when neither parties have the right parts lining up, (Soft dick, tight vagina...) when there isn't enough lube, when you're too nervous. Sometimes, life interferes and we have to just enjoy the feelings as they are. The warmth of skin to skin contact, the love and trust between partners, the sensations of genital contact. These feelings in and of themselves are comforting and valid regardless of how it ends. Particularly if they are mutually shared feelings. I think that if the majority of people felt this way, there would be a lot more loving going on, naked sweaty loving just for the sake of loving. The zero sum love game doesn't do anybody any favors.

Progress Log!

I put a small finger sized vibrator in today, and I think I may have put it all the way in! This is the first non finger object to have successfully entered. I had virtually no anxiety either. I think I'm making excellent progress, despite the lack of genitalia exercises. It had to start in the mind first. I'm not trying to force my body to submit to me, I'm trying to prove to it that penetration is not a scary thing. It feels good, that's why people do it. Sex is fun.

Progress log over.

The Reveal

It's always really weird telling somebody that I have vaginismus. Thankfully, it doesn't really happen much. I decided to tell my roommate. She was confused, like anyone would be. I think she thought I was lying at first. I told her I was a virgin. That my vagina muscles were too tight to let anything in. I was very calm and nonchalant about it. I got the usual 'helpful suggestions' response. I deflected it pretty well. I think that I have made a great deal of progress in the way I have framed my own sexuality. I feel that as time passes, I only become a stronger and more well articulated person. It makes me happy and excited for the future. I might order a set of dilators if I'm feeling bold.

Although I want this blog to remain relatively low key and anonymous, I do hope that someone else like me finds this blog. I want someone else to realize they are not alone. You are not alone.

Being a Woman vs Being a Human

Sometimes I forget that in the eyes of society, I am a woman first and foremost and a person second. All of the interactions I have with people of the opposite sex have the ability and the obligation to turn sexual. Because I am a woman first and foremost. I am used for sex, and all conversations, compliments, favors and the like are all steps leading up to obtaining The Sex from me. Because I owe you that at least for your paying attention to me, because why the hell else would anyone talk to a woman? The things woman say are stupid, they don't understand the manly nuances of real life like you do. They must have sex bartered, coerced, forced, tricked out of them.

I am a person. A person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. In a room full of men, I'm going to stick out, because I look different than everyone else. But it shouldn't matter. Because I am a person. I will listen to your thoughts and feelings and opinions. Not out of a desire for The Sex, but because I want to be your friend. Person-to-person, eye-to-eye, irrespective of gender lines. And I deserve that.

I hate having the barriers up constantly, feeling like I have to cover my own ass, feeling like I deserved it. I am not 'asking for it' I am simply existing as a person out in the world. I'm not asking you for anything but respect. I shouldn't have to fear all the people I come into contact with lest they think I owe them sex in exchange for basic human decency.

Seriously, fuck that.

Social Synthesis

Everybody else can love you just fine, so why can't you?

I am tired of acting as the social synthesizer for so many people. I keep trying to help people out, I have to be there to mediate the tension, or awkwardness. I have to be in charge of keeping people together, of gathering them together, of making the phone calls, checking in, making the plans. Why? I have to listen to advice I didn't ask for, get thrown under the bus, hang around and do a bunch of things I don't want to. What am I really gaining out of this interaction? Good moral standing? Karma? We can already see what good Karma has given me. Nothing. A bunch of shit really.

I am just annoyed, when do I get my support? When do I get what I asked for? And honestly, would I even know how to answer if some asked me, "What is it that I can do for you?" I don't know really.

Some Things Regarding Mental Illness

I was discussing with a friend two of the scariest things about having a mental illness:

1. Loss of control. That feeling that everything is spinning or you are stuck and you can't get out. A total inability to stop and let things cool down. That paralyzing fear. It's like having a car with the breaks cut. You suddenly realize that you car just won't stop. Of course, maybe it'll coast to a stop with no harm no foul. Or maybe you'll go careening through a red light into a bus full of schoolchildren.

2. Loss of perspective. Suddenly, it's hard to tell what normal is. If there even is one. Who are you? And where are you? And what is really happening? Are you overreacting? Maybe people are just telling you that so you'll calm down. And when your without the presence of a grounding individual, the line of reality and illness blurs real damn fast. The gas that is mental illness, expands rapidly to fill the vacuum of solitude. And that's when things escalate.

Although number 1 is something that really can't be helped much, I think two definitely can. If people felt more comfortable in sharing their personal illness, if they felt they would be believed and respected, there would be a greater wealth of knowledge, empathy and compassion among us. Imagine if most of us knew how to deal with panic attacks, anxiety, depression on a regular basis. And we lived in a world that was understanding of the challenges we faced. That people knew more healthy ways to take the edge. Where people could vent freely about their challenges without fear of judgement.

Now that would be nice.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

It's really crazy how much smell is tied to memory. Supposedly our most primal of all senses. I can see why.

When I'm Feeling Defeated

When I'm feeling defeated, I tell myself that there was a time I couldn't touch my own vulva. Not a single part. If I had a clothing fiber, or a stray hair I wanted to get rid of, I couldn't. I would start feeling faint. I couldn't touch there without shaking. When my partner tried to go down on me I would lay there silently, with my legs clenched tightly wondering what these feelings were and why I enjoyed the sensations. I couldn't spread my labia without feeling sick. I couldn't clean myself properly, I felt itchy and uneasy about my body. It disgusted me. I hated it. I had never touched the opening of my vulva. I had never touched my anus. I loathed these parts of me.

And then, something changed. I patiently sat each day after my shower, examining myself. Pushing that envelope ever so slowly until I didn't feel a burning sensation. My skin was mine and my own. I could even masturbate by touching myself. I could wash the outside and enjoy my own body. It's difficult to explain to someone who wasn't experienced it what its like to be an enemy of your own body. And how good it feels to triumph.

Even more amazingly, in the summer of 2012, I sat in front of a mirror and put a finger into my vagina. I watched some dirty videos on the internet, stripped down and challenged myself.  At that point of my life, I had never ever touched that part of myself. It confused me, weirded me out. What the hell was that? This is weird, this is disgusting, I hated myself more. I cried a little, I dry heaved. But I never hurt myself. I was determined. I furiously masturbated everyday, with no shame or regret. I was probably the horniest I'd ever been in my life. It was confusing, but the momentum was great.

Now, my sex drive has quelled a little bit. I have been clouded by frustration again. I want to just be done with it. I was to just fuck and fuck and cum, and have all kinds of disgusting and shameful and confusing experiences. And a year ago, I probably would have never believed that a person like me would say words like fuck and cum. But here I am, typing this on the internet. Maybe someone I know will stumble across this and figure out its me. Who knows. It's a little unnerving I guess. But if you are here, whoever you are, I say this:

Hello, and welcome to my world.

Halloween: Addendum

I also noticed that while girls tend to gravitate towards revealing costumes, a huge amount of guys chose to wear costumes that involved cross dressing of some degree. It makes me wonder, since all of us (women and men) seem to want to dress like slutty women. What does that say about us? And why is it necessarily a bad thing? I say there should be more than one day a year when people can indulge themselves in skin revealing.

Also, as I may have previously discussed I don't know how to deal with my sudden blossom into a person who is sexually attractive to the opposite sex. Although I feel as though I have remained relatively unchanged over time, something has obviously changed in my mannerisms and the way I carry myself. I have acquired a lot of male attention as of late. And its confusing and scary. But hey, it's another opportunity for growth.

Halloween

Dear women of the world,

Although people will give you tons of shit, if you feel the need to wear slutty clothing tonight here's some words of advice:

Do it.

Fuck what everyone else thinks. Halloween has become one day where girls feel like they can show off their bodies and feel good. And its sad that we only get one day a year to do it. Why can't women wear what they want any day of the year? Maybe short skirts, high heels and low cut tops make some people feel good.  Don't do it because you think you have to of course, do it if you want to. Because we're all adults here and we can make our own wardrobe choices.

It doesn't fuckin' matter, get it girl.

HMMMMMM

I encountered the same older guy from the previous post Hmm last night. It was warm out yesterday so my roommate and I (Both of us had been feeling low) decided to put on some short clothing and head out to local bar. I happened to run into that guy again while wearing my slutty clothing and I was feeling damn good. He seemed very impressed. When he had to go I walked him outside and we stopped in a hallway for a silly drunken makeout session.

This is the kind of stuff people in college do, and what I should have been doing a few years ago. It's extremely uncharacteristic of me. I feel as though I should I be embarrassed or ashamed but really I'm not. I really just don't give a fuck. I'm a bit of a late bloomer in the sexuality realization game, but I think in some ways it gives me an advantage because I have had a little more time to realize my desires and become more secure in the person that I am.

There is plenty of things about this situation that give me pause, but I guess there's only way to find out. Take risks. Close your eyes and jump in.

I need something to take the edge off.

To Be Good in Bed

What makes a person 'good in bed'? Everybody wants to be it, but what exactly constitutes good in bed? I have thought about this question recently, trying to pinpoint what I did and didn't like about partners, and also what I can and can't do. Considering penetrative sex is out of the question in my case, the mainstream opinion might declare I don't have any skills in bed. But I'd like to think that I get naked and exchange fluids with others on a regular enough basis to let that detail slide. Here is what I've come up with:

Easy to talk to: This person doesn't pass judgement, they don't get butt-hurt every time you say you'd like to try a different act. They don't feel threatening.

Perceptive: Falls under the similar easy to talk to category. They can read body language, frequently check in on you if they can't. Seeks positive feedback before moving on.

Reasonably un-squeamish: In order to have a broad spectrum of sexual fun, a person should expect to get sweaty, sticky, smell different things, stick one's face in various crevices, swallow various fluids. And yes, even a pube or two. Nothing unreasonable, but a person who's terrified of natural body functions, or thinks that a rim job means you're gonna be eating shit usually gets crossed off of the Good In Bed list.

Open minded: Everybody has limits, and no one should ever do anything they don't want to do, but indulging someone's tastes just for a try (Within reasonable limits of course!) might end up with a sexy surprise.

Willing to try different pleasure routes: Sometimes our bodies don't cooperate in the ways we want them too, and thus it's important to be inventive. Keeps things fresh.

Self-Control: Knows when to stop when things get too intense, chafey, painful or unpleasant. Doesn't push the boundaries more than is appropriate. Respects partners rules always.

Multitasks well: Although not required, anybody who can multitask reasonably well gets a star in my book.

This is all the things I can think of at the moment. Being respectful and having a good sense of humor about things is always a must.

Want

I want to get sticky and sweaty. I want to feel ecstasy. I want to be like everybody else.

Perception

People have different reactions when I tell them about my vaginismus. It seems to usually fit into two categories: The Healer and You're Making it Up

The Healer feels much compassion, but oh! they have the solution. 'Just wait until you hear my awesome advice, its sure to cure you! Ever try sticking your finger up your vagina? I heard it works! Also, try masturbating! It feels good!' Or something along those lines. Even though they may be a bit misguided, I like these people. They have your best interest in mind. They want to fix you, and they want you to have good sex. Even though they don't know anything about your condition, they still are trying to help you think of solutions. Not perfect, sometimes annoying, but still better than the second type of people.

You're Making it Up: AKA the Why Don't You Try Harder people. These people annoy the shit out of me. They have helpful suggestions like "Just cram a dick up there and wear a pad for a few days for the blood that pours out" And "Get wasted and have someone cram their dick into your lifeless corpse!" These are the same types of people who see sex and virginity as a zero sum game. These are the same people who still classify me as 'not yet a woman' because a dick hasn't yet entered the womanly gates (And if we are gonna get technical, technically a dick has poked its head in there so....ha?). These people are always chiding me for not relaxing enough, they say I just have a tight vagina, that needs a good pummeling by the right man and then I will be cured.

What scares me most about the Try Harder people (Besides thinking about the terrifying sex they must be having! Yikes!) is the assumption the sex is a milestone and not an actual act. Sex = Adulthood, Sex = relationship seriousness starts here! What is there to be gained from me having painful sex? I mean really? Who wins in this situation? I certainly don't, I bleed for a few days, it burns when I pee, I don't get off. Maybe I'll get lucky and have a pregnancy scare, a UTI, or an STI. Does my partner win? He gets to hump a motionless person who's bleeding and wincing in pain. All for the sake of RELATIONSHIP SERIOUSNESS! How serious could a relationship be that requires active, repeated pain on one person's behalf all the time for the other partners benefit? How could an enthusiastic blow job, mutual masturbation, or anal play session be that much worse? You know, the kind where everybody enjoys themselves?

Maybe I'm missing the point. I'm sure PIV sex is great, and I simply CANNOT WAIT to have it. But only when its great, or good enough, or not excruciatingly painful. And that's the kind of milestone I want to reach, when I'm ready to.

Hmm

I spent the night drinking with a man who is a bit older than me. I caught his interest not too long ago, and I'd been feeling him out ever since. He's quite odd, interesting sense of humor, attractive, well dressed, nice. The people I've asked about him says he's a nice guy but weird. I'm not entirely sure what to think of it. I'm not sure if I'm in a good place right now to be in a relationship. There's my friends with benefits thing to deal with. And then there's the fact that my parents would probably kick my ass if they found out I was dating a guy that old.

But Indeed, I had a fun time stumbling back drunk with him at four in the morning. Less fun when I woke up drunk the next morning for work. But hey, what a life I live. I'm just glad I got home safe. I think we kissed, but I could hardly tell what I was doing at that hour. I'm feeling a little insecure about my intimacy abilities. I wonder.

Compliments

Lately I've noticed that people have been complimenting me a lot. That's Good right? They've been gushing lots of real nice things for some reason without any prompt. It's really nice, don't get me wrong, but it makes me really uneasy. I can't help but think, what does this person want from me? What'll they think if I disappoint them? I try to be righteous and subjective in my viewpoint, but sometimes I can't hide the fact that I'm extremely insecure. I worry what these people say about me when I leave the room.

I'm just trying to get by like everyone else is. I hope I'm actually doing a good job.

Cutting ties

I recently cut ties with someone. I don't usually actively sever someone from my life. I was scared to do it. But you know what? At the end, I felt nothing but relief. I have been caused so much undue suffering, grief, insecurity and emotional damage from just a short time with this person. And though I have learned much, don't get me wrong, it was unnecessarily harsh.

I'd like to say that everything happens for a reason, but we all know that's nothing but a crock of shit. Things happen due to the circumstances that create them. Everyday, events happen that cause us to grow, just like sometimes things not happening also cause us to grow. To say that having an emotionally manipulative, uncaring ex-boyfriend was an important tenet of my growth and fullness as a person is ridiculous and false. It allows said ex to get away with being a scary asshole in some aspects because 'hey, you grew up!' I cried, I hurt, and life moved on. I grow each day because I choose to cry, hurt and move on. I don't off myself any time something bad happens (Not that it has never crossed my mind though.)

Life is hard. And its because of specific things that culminate in semi-predictable ways. My scary ex hurt me very badly because he didn't care about my feelings. I was sad because my life was hard at the time, I lost my job, my housing and home life was a mess, I was insecure and sad. He was an asshole because other kids were assholes to him in the past, and he internalized that and became an asshole himself. And so on and so forth. We can only be held at fault for the reactions we have to the stuff that happens to us. We cannot be held at fault for all of the actual tangible things that happen to us.

I for one, am glad to be able to have the tools to say my piece and move on. I'm glad to have kept my cool in the face of accusations and personal attack. I was even able to inspire an apology from him, although I'm not sure how encouraging it was (more like a "I'm sorry you were offended by my words." type than anything too introspective). I feel better at having some closure in some aspects, and hoping not to run into this person again. Whew.

The end of that story arc for now.

Moving Forward.

Moving forward as I should be. Trying to get used to the sensation of penetration. What a very strange thing indeed. This is a treatment of my mind, body, attitudes, past misconceptions and the very encoding of every thought and memory I've had about sex. It's insane really, to see how out of hand things can get.

I think that some people are more susceptible to such traumatic mindsets more than others. To explain more clearly: A very large amount of people receive negative information about sex. An even larger amount of people have sexual hangups. But the entire female population doesn't suffer from vaginismus. Only some of us do (A number which I do not know). Why? I don't know. Has the influence been more bodily potent on us than others? How would this explain the phenomenon that both myself and my sister both suffer from it, despite having no known history of sexual abuse? I remember a specific set of memories that I believe to be the triggers to vaginsmus, but how could they have been so triggering? And how can we stop other girls from having to endure it as well?

There is much I don't know.

Moving forward, moving forward.

"Don't Say I'm Overcoming My Disability. I Live With It For Better Or For Worse." (Paraphrased from somewhere on the internet)

Its hard not to get frustrated sometimes. Being horny as fuck, but having a body that doesn't cooperate. I'm not gonna say I feel empowered or blessed to have vaginismus. It fucking sucks, it's shitty and I hate it. In the weaker points of my life its made me wish I was never born. It makes me feel inadequate, physically ill, hurting, burn-y, sexually frustrated, anxious, embarrassed, angry. It transforms sex and sexuality into frightening demons.

I'm terrified of being permanently broken. Doomed to walk an eternity of unpenetrative, unorganismic, purgatory. Until I just die of sexual frustration and loneliness. God is one sick fuck if he's up there.

...

This is how I felt earlier this morning. Just very angry. Me and my 'friend' had stayed up real late trying to have anal and it simply would not work (And by try, I mean an honest try: with tons of vaseline, sexytimes, one finger, two finger, red finger, blue finger....) . I got extremely angry, and I find it hard to articulate all the finer points of my strong emotion. Suffice it to say, I am tired of failure. I want it to work, and I want it to work now. Body, you already have my vagina all to yourself, SO WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? I have made my choice, but my sphincters have made another. Fuck this shit.

I must be missing something here, because it always feels like I'm on the cusp of something. The cusp of orgasm, the cusp of penetration, the cusp of muscle loosening. I put a finger in my vagina and it didn't burn, I felt a small circular muscle. I poked within it. I have entered the second gates.

This post is nothing more than a record of: I've fallen and I got up again shortly thereafter.

Flattery.

Flattery is a dangerous thing. But it would be ridiculous for a person to claim that they are immune to flattery. Nobody is immune. A strong opinion? Perhaps. But who doesn't like to be complimented? Who doesn't like to feel safe and secure in their worth to others? I don't know many people like that.

So when someone tries to imply that I'm silly for succumb to flattery in some manner, I have to stifle my bitter laughter. He who points the finger of blame is probably the most vulnerable of all. Be honest with yourself, we are all human here. We feel emotions, and sometimes we act on those emotions to our benefit or detriment.

In Which A Post Has No Real Purpose

I am my most dangerous poison, but also my most potent antidote.

I have been fortunate in having had the experience of 'safe' partners. No matter how the situation ended, how pleasurable it could have or should have or was or wasn't, I have never found myself being pressured or coerced in anyway. And in that way, I have found my encounters to be extremely satisfying (Although not without problems! But they were never damaging in any way). I hope it continues to be like this.

I'd like to write more about relationships, but alas, the damn night shift beckons me to its mind-numbing maw.

A Fine Line

There's a fine line between virgin and not virgin. Actually, there's no line between virgin and not virgin. Why? Because virginity the concept can be extended to anything. In practice, people seem to hold a lot of worth around penis in vagina = pure. But what about all the exceptions? What about a person who still has tons of anal? Tons of oral? Jerks off in front of a camera? Grinds naked on other people? Is a lesbian? Do you still consider these people virgins? I sure as hell wouldn't, because what really changes after piv sex that doesn't change after these kinds of sex? Except for the fear of pregnancy. In a strong, loving relationship, what really changes from fingers in vagina, mutual jerking off, to piv sex?

I think people are expecting this huge change in their perspective and who they are. But really,this is just like anything else. Its awkward at first, you learn to do it, it feels good, you do it some more. Call me crazy, but I don't see this being that much more different. That said, I would really like to get to that point of course, but I don't see it making me a 'more complete person' although it might help alleviate a lot of sexual tension and further the orgasm seeking cause. And that I can get behind. Or in front of. Or reverse cowgirl, what have you.

People

It frightens me that there are people out there who able to cause so much pain. People who masquerade themselves as nice, normal human beings. But they are hollow. They are full of nothing but bitter acid. They don't understand, and they don't try to understand. They are simple hedonists floating on the surface, doing what they want from second to second that feels good, never thinking of the consequences. They never really take in anything. They only are. And they hurt. And they hurt. And they never, ever learn.

And those people scare me more than anything.

Some Fighting Words For the Records

I have no room in my life for people who insult me. If you don't like who I am and what I believe in, why are you even hanging out with me? What do you stand to gain from this 'friendship'? All you do is put me down, accuse me of things, cut me off.

You are an asshole plain and simple, and I don't want to talk to you anymore. So get the fuck out of my way. You're a little weirdo with an ego problem. You need to grow the fuck up and learn how to apologize. "I'm sorry you are offended" is the most offensive cop-out excuse for an apology. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

I think you get some sort of sick pleasure out of this, but the truth is. You are wrong. You don't know anything about me. Because you weren't listening ever. You think I'm weak. You think that there's something wrong with the way I am. But here's the kicker. I love who I am. I love that I'm self depreciating, cynical, honest. I like the way I see the world. I like being an atheist, I like that I'm scared of things, that I can be lazy and loud. Because that is what I am. And I love my self and my condition for better or worse. I am not something to be overcome. I am what I am on good days and bad days. And you wont understand that, because you're an insensitive prick.

I think I've been more than generous throughout this, but I don't have any desire to be your friend. I want you out of my life.

(Look, I don't know where you got this idea that being friends with someone involves insulting, correcting and accusing them of lying constantly. But it's fucking shitty and I am not amused. Respond how you will, but I gave you a chance to see how you would act in person, and I have never felt so insulted in my life. I don't know what your problem is, but it is clear to me that you don't understand how to be considerate of other people's feeling and be mature about it. So consider this my resignation to this friendship. I will still be civil to you, but I'm not willfully subjecting myself to anymore of this hurtful behavior.)

Progress?

I haven't done my physical exercises in awhile, but my mental exercises are through the roof. I feel a great shift in my thoughts and urges. So let's just hope my body is willing to cooperate.

Never Enough

Whatever I do is never good enough. I'm not trying hard enough, always behind the curve. I'm selling myself short, I'm not growing, my attitude is bad, I'm the reason that bad things happen to me...yada yada.

Well you know what?

You don't get to pass judgement. You, who stands atop of your cushy pedestal. You don't ever have to take your own advice. You can just look down on me, flapping your lips and proving about what you know about the world. But you don't know. Because you don't live in that world. You live in your comfortable, normal world, where you are blind to suffering.

You don't get that right. Nobody does.

I have to work really fucking hard sometimes, just to do a half ass job of living my life. Something you will never understand, you neurologically typical person you. There's no crippling depression, hours sucked into the void of compulsions, bouts of panic and paranoia, hysteria, stomach pain that keeps you on the toilet much longer than you need to because you were nervous about something stupid. Invasive thoughts that keep you from enjoying life, scabs and scars, picking and picking and plucking and bleeding. The tape loop, over and over. The numbness, the anger. The inexplicable things.

I'd like to see you sit in front of a mirror with your legs spread, trying to put a single finger in your own vagina, but failing. Failing at touching your OWN body. How humiliating it is, to be an enemy of yourself. How vulnerable it feels. How disgusting and degrading the assumptions are of my character. How stupid you feel when you fail that simple task. How alone you feel when no one else understands your pain. How scared you feel when you posture that you might be stuck like this forever. Only half useful.

So fuck you dude, just fuck you.

Something that really bothers me

I really don't like it when guys make jokes about not pulling out during sex. It makes me feel immediately uncomfortable, and it happens a lot more than you might think. As a woman that is like the scariest, rapiest remark you could make about something that started off as consensual. I never would consent to sex with a person that I thought would impregnate me, willingly or otherwise.

I don't ever want to be pregnant. Ever. I never want to formulate another human being and push it out into the world. In fact, I've come to the depressing conclusion that if the world ever found itself in some abortion lockdown and I would be forced to deliver a baby, that I would actually off myself first. I don't ever want to be responsible for bringing another human into the world, even if it meant taking myself out.

I know this sounds really extreme, and of course I might not feel the same way if I was in that situation, but currently, that is how I feel. No babies. So obviously, pull out jokes scare the shit out of me. And guys, you never have to deal with a pregnancy scare. But oh! Child support! crazy lady hormones! Crying Babies! Yep...not the same. 

My body is mine and mine only. And I hate having to feel like a killjoy for being offended by what was supposed to be a lighthearted remark. But it's not for me, that is a loaded gun right there. 

Shut Up

No, you don't get to say what's right and what's wrong.

You don't get to say how I feel. 

Because you don't have that kind of control over me, you lost that. And now for some reason you think you can pop back in my life to nitpick again. What are you trying to accomplish here really? Why must you repeatedly make assumptions about me and my life?

You have put me in this box, and this box is labeled WRONG. Everything I do always fits in this box. Because it needs to be this way for you. Because if I'm out of this box its challenging you somehow, its getting in the way of your perceptions. It's scaring you. And you don't like to be scared. You want to be tough and right and made of stone. So you must put others down, especially the ones who seem weaker than you. Those who seem complacent and full of love and trust. They lay it all out for you, but you aren't listening. Because you are busy packing their words into the box.

Well, I have news for you. I LIKE the way I am. The regular me. The chemically right me, and the chemically wrong me at times. I like being pessimistic, self denigrating, depraved, cynical. I see the world exactly the way I need to see it. I like that even though I seem set in my ways, I can always take a step back and look at the big picture. I like that I'm easy for most people to talk to, honest and open, not taking myself too seriously, able to laugh at shitty things that happen to me, introspective.

I have many faults, but these are mine and my own to fix as I see fit. And I'm constantly growing and maturing and learning and being in so many ways that you'll just never understand because you are busy just filling your cardboard box of assumptions.

A disorganized rant

I wish that guys understood how stifling and damaging it is to have your entire gender's sexuality be written off. That all mainstream sexuality presentation focuses always on the women, on the women's body, on its appearance and performance. It is always viewed from the men's perspective. There is so much leeway given to the background person, they can look different, act differently, be different than the norm - as long as they have a dick. It puts a lot of pressure on woman, because just to simply exist as a sexual object requires a lot of work. Perfect hair, makeup, boobs, labia, smooth hairless skin, stretchy vagina, perfect voice and perfect orgasms. And on top of that, we aren't actually supposed to like sex. Unless its sexily forced upon us. In which case its okay to like it, because of some secret desire to be dominated.

I consider myself to have pretty mild sexual tastes. I crave neither domination nor submission. I like a man to go down on me, I return the favor. I like things to be slow and gentle, I like there to be a lot of skin to skin contact. I like it when I man makes noise. I like body hair. I like having body hair.

And yet, finding media with these things in it is really hard. Disappointingly so. But by stating my opinion, I am making some sort of ripple in the waters of mainstream sexual doom. I am a woman: I like sex. I like watching people have it. I like jerking off to it, because I like jerking off. I get horny, just like every other sexual human. And you know what? I have frizzy hair, acne, a low manly voice, pubic hair, big uneven labia, a broken vagina and an orgasm that's hidden deep within a temple of doom that even I can't access.

But you know what? I'm plenty sexy, and desirable to others. And it's taken me many years to get to that point. Sexiness is a mindset, not an outfit.

Tics

Sometimes, when you live with a mental illness, you forget you have it. Because your brain is always that way, its really your only standard for normality. Its not like you know any other way to think! So really, the only way you know that your sick is to look at others. (Well not really the only way, but the main way) So sometimes, when you are at home a lot like I am, chilling on the internet, not seeing a lot of normal people, you sort of just stop thinking about it.

Until one day.

Then it dawns on you that something is off. And it's disappointing. Because you thought you were normal. You weren't like those other sufferers, you triumphed. You 'grew out of it' 'sucked it up' 'just stopped' etc. Which is ridiculous really. Its not like anyone would really try to be sick! You just are sick! Believe me, if I could have just sucked it up, I would have done that a long time ago. Probably about eight years ago, when it first dawned on me what was wrong. I would have stopped pulling out all that hair, obsessively shaving, laying on the floor with crippling depression, thinking extreme invasive thoughts that made me feel sick all the time, ruining my relationship. Why the hell would I want that?! Of course I can't help it.

I say all of this because yesterday I realized I acquired a new tic. It's really annoying. It makes me think that my forehead is too stiff so I keep raising my eyebrows to alleviate it. But it doesn't help of course, because its a dumb tic. My neurons are misfiring and telling me I have to do this. And its fucking annoying and it makes my head hurt. God. It makes me think, what have I done to deserve all of this?

I have done nothing, I just am. I am just a glitch in the system. I have come extremely far, even being a glitch, and so have many other people. Because let's face it, how many people aren't glitches in the system? Don't we all have hurdles, things we can't control?

Can you guess what I did last night?

I lost my virginity. You may be wondering, IS my vagina is fixed?! Nope. I can't even get half a finger up there, let alone a dick. Better get a little more creative than that.

It was a good time though.

Is it so much to ask?

For my birthday, all I really wanted was some sexy times. With someone sexy. I wanted to down a couple drinks, look pretty, feel confidant, be flattered, get off. Like a slutty slutty adult would, cause let's face it --  I'm curious. I want to be that slutty adult. Because it feels good, because it just does. I want to know what he feels to be jerked off by an experienced stranger. How good are they? How drunk to they have to be? Will I come? Will it be awkward or scary? Will we talk afterwards? I have no idea, but I'm very curious.

Instead I got chicken nuggets. What a lucky girl I am.

What Ifs

So say I'm suddenly 100% better one day, that all the vaginal woes that have plagued me just disappeared, and I'm having vaginal orgasms and crazy threesomes with hung dudes and all is well and good. What has really changed? Has the basic makeup of who I am changed? Sure I'll be excited about for awhile, I'll probably tell some trusted friends. I might shed some tears of relief. But other than that, the basic core of who I am will be the same.

Or so I'd like to think. At this point in my self discovery, I have a pretty good idea of the type of sex I'd like to have, and it's gonna be good. It won't be forced, it will be slow and gentle and sexy and relaxing. It will be with people I like. Some days it can be harder, some days it can be softer. Sometimes we can experiment with different positions and methods. Sometimes we talk dirty, sometimes we just laugh, sometimes we are just silently breathing. Sometimes will need lube, other times we will be overflowing with natural excitement. And afterwards, we might take a shower, or maybe we will just fall asleep.

And it sounds quite nice. But wait a minute...I'm already having that kind of sex! Confused yet?

The fundamentals are the same, the mechanics are different though.

A Strange Reaction

I had a strange reaction today during my self therapy. I was putting in a finger and I hit the usual burning spot, so I pressed a little harder. And it burned like fuck. Enough so that I actually exclaimed some swear words. But I kept my finger there, waited for my body to accustom, and it did. It was utterly unremarkable to me after that. Except maybe like thirty seconds later I suddenly felt like I was gonna throw up. Like a very urgent need. I actually had to get up and lean over the toilet for a minute before the feeling subsided. My vagina however, was unscathed seconds later. Its funny how that disconnect between mind and body is. Its like I actually offended my body somehow, while my mind for once was actually fine.

I have much to learn.

Butt Plugs, Houseplants and Frozen Mice

An interesting day of errands, I'm excited to get to work.

Control

It seems that everything in mainstream sexuality is about control. Domination, owning, degradation. I'm supposed to like penetration from a secret nasty desire to be dominated*. I'm supposed to want dick in my ass, cum on my face, getting spanked, because of a secret desire to be controlled.

But what if I decide that I like all of these things? And I like them because it feels good. Or maybe because it feels good to please my partner. Or maybe, amazingly enough it feels good for both of us? I don't know, I'm just going out on a limb here.

I don't want anyone to own my body. Heck, I don't even own my own body. I just want someone to pleasure me. It's really that simple. I am not an object. I'm a person. I like to feel good. I like to touch and explore and experience new feelings.

*I should clarify, I am not speaking of specific dom/sub relationships. I'm referring specifically to the strange widespread belief that all relationships between men and women are inherently dom/sub with women always playing the submissive role.

The epic showdown

I have owned the first third, now onto the 2/3 which I think will be the hardest part of all this. The 2/3 is where that muscle wall is, its there mocking me, burning and hurting and preventing me from living my life. But I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna do what I want to do. And this is it. No ridiculous gimmicks or theories, just me versus my body.

I want to have hot sex just like anybody else.

A dream

I had a dream last night about hooking up with a guy I know. He's a cute, nice guy. He said he liked me in the dream, that I was a beautiful woman. We started kissing and touching each other. It felt really good. Then he got up to leave, "Where are you going?" I asked him. "I have to go to the drugstore." He climbed out his window and left. The drugstore? I thought, Of course! Condoms. Wait...CONDOMS?! That means we are going to have sex, right? I wondered if there was any way I could reason my way out of this. I can't have sex, I'm a virgin. I'm untouchable. But another part of me resigned myself to just let myself go, to give a try, see if it hurt or felt good. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

Unfortunately I never got to find that out, since I woke up. But it's encouraging in some ways, even my subconscious is antsy to figure out what sex is like.

A list of annoying assumptions people like to make about some woman's sexuality

Okay, so I realize any person reading this may not agree, nor am I trying to imply that any of these acts are actually bad or undesirable. People are absolutely entitled to like whatever they want, and I wouldn't actually care. Please do what you love! I am just saying for my own personal opinion or what I want and what I often feel is conflicting in my quest to discovering and owning my sexuality.

1. All women are inherently bisexual:

No, no and no. I don't like women. This is weird because I watch lesbian porn, but honestly, its not the women that makes it watchable, its the acts themselves. And its really hard to come across a quality video of a guy jerking off a girl without penetrating her. So I have to watch girls do it. Frustrating really, it sometimes feels invalidating that my relatively mainstream interests in petting and fondling must be relegated to a sexuality I don't actually feel because the rest of society deems it not exciting enough.

It doesn't matter to me that bisexual, bicurious, and lesbian people exist out there. Good, great. I'm glad. Sex is wonderful. But for some reason, the entirety of the male population seems to think that we all want to just make out with one another whenever we get two drinks in us. And its simply not true. Girls don't light my fire. Guys do. I'm heterosexual. Boobs and butts are great, but to me its nothing compared to a nice male body. Some hard kissing and face stubble. I'm not going to titillate you by making out with my friend. If I ever have a threesome, its gonna be two guys. Because I like guys. And I guess that's that so why do so many men find that hard to understand?

2. All women secretly just want a man to control them.

Again, there are many people who do enjoy being submissive. But usually this is under a specific context, that they discuss and arrange with their partners. Which again, is fine and not a problem. But there is a pervasive belief that we ALL want to just be sexily servile all the time. We just need a man to put us in line, to mark his territory, to domineer over us. My boss actually tried to tell me this. He tried to convince me that my previous taste in men was actually not true, and that I was covering up my latent desire to have a man control me. Needless to say I was pretty pissed.

If say, I suddenly desired for a man to slap my ass and tell me I'm a dirty slut, my boss would still be wrong about me. Why? Because there's nothing 'degrading' about asking someone to do something hot to you. I mean who cares what you are actually asking for, the point is you are actively asking for it and therefore not being controlled by anyone. If a man suddenly started slapping my ass and calling me a dirty slut I would feel highly uncomfortable. I wouldn't suddenly realize my deep hidden desire to be spanked, I would feel frightened and pissed off having my boundaries violated. That is not hot. For me, the thought of control is hot. However, I'm still rather timid in my encounters.

3. All women desire a tall, ripped guy with a huge dick.

Again I encountered this at my work place. I'm a short person, and I tend to gravitate towards short guys. For some reason this is a problem to other people. If I said I liked only tall guys, no one would bat an eye. (That said, I never said I only liked short guys, I just tend towards them) There are many types of people in this world, and many of them are attractive. Not because they are x, y and Z, but because they are who they are.

On the subject of huge dicks. To me, dicks are as attractive as the person attached to them. When I had feelings for an asian guy, plenty of snide dick related remarks were made. Its outrageous really, for some reason people actually thought about why I would possibly like someone whose race is stereotyped as having small dicks! The nerve! After all, why the hell would I want such a subpar specimen? Shouldn't I, despite having vaginismus, want an enormous 10 inch dick uncomfortably crammed into my already difficult vagina? If for some reason, I find myself losing my virginity to a guy with a coke can cock, it would be because I liked that person so damn much, that I actually wanted to uncomfortably cram it in. Conversely, if I find myself losing it to a guy with a four inch wang, it would be because-wow I actually like that person, and I actually don't give a shit about something as ridiculous as dick size. Particularly when there's so much else to like about a person.

4. All women just love giving blowjobs, in fact they have like totally awesome orgasms from it cause its so awesome. No need to reciprocate the favor.

I like giving a bj just as much as the next enthusiastic partner. I really like to see a person enjoying themselves. It feels good to hear someone moan and writhe. Its hot and enjoyable. But it doesn't actually feel like anything to me. Like on my body. You aren't like massaging my mouth or anything. Bjs are hard work! They make your gums hurt when you forget to floss, sometimes you jab yourself in the throat too hard and gag. Jizz tastes funny. Sometimes it gives me stomach cramps.  But that's not why you give: you give because you want someone else to feel.

A horny girl may be happy to blow you. Which is totally fine, live it up good sir. But don't think that it actually stimulates anything besides the imagination. You should offer a reward to that person. You should make it worthwhile! Of course, some people don't actually want any reciprocation, which is also fine. But don't convince yourself into thinking this is some sort of reciprocal sexual acts. It is purely one sided.

5. All women shave their vulvas, and if they don't, they are totally willing too because it is totally not a pain in the ass.

I realize many people shave their pubic regions. Thanks to mainstream porn, this is a commonality now. Some people don't even know that women have hair down there (Seriously, I just recently talked to a guy who didn't know girls had hair in their ass cracks.) To some people, shaving is really easy and not very irritating on the skin. To other people, they might as well just pour tabasco down there because its just so irritating and horrible. I've tried this before, and each time, the skin on my very important area has become horribly inflamed and prickly and horrible.

I trim, but I will not shave. I am entitled to keep the products my body was made to have. People grow pubes when they hit puberty. Pubes are long and curly, sometimes they feel itchy. Sometimes they get caught in people's teeth. But honestly, that is not the end of the world. Its just pubes. And expecting your partner to shave down there every day just so that you don't have to think about nasty pubes is a ridiculous request (And yes, some of us have hair that grows back every day). It's one thing to have a preference, its another to have an unwavering expectation. (As an aside, I'm not even sure how to shave an ass crack?! I must be missing something.)

6. Women who blow lots of dudes are sluts. Men who go down on women are ladies men.

This is just a huge crock of shit and I don't have to explain why. A mouth on a dick is a mouth on a dick. I know a very lovely person whom I never fight with and usually always agree with, but for some reason he can't shake this belief. I get ridiculously pissed off.

Good to know I'm losing value every time I try to please a dude. Because I mean really, when you are unable to have sex, how many other acts can you perform? I'm going out on a limb and guessing that many handjobs will also make me slutty. And having lots anal will probably make me even 'worse' so really I'm just supposed to swallow (no pun intended) my label and not give a shit what people think? I mean really, how the fuck do I win here? I'm supposed to explore my sexuality and gain experience before I settle down, and yet anything I do will be perceived as my value diminishing! And I guess once I'm 'cured' I'm supposed to have just a ton of sex with a bunch of people so I can learn about sex. Because if I went on some dates I would owe those guys sex! I mean they worked so hard to be nice guys. Or I could just blow them, which hey still makes me slutty! But hey, it doesn't even like count anyways, cause that's just foreplay, I'm not actually gaining experience (Like this is a game or something). That's nothing more than an unfinished hookup. Again, I wouldn't pass judgement on a girl for sucking a lot of dicks, just like I wouldn't pass judgement on a guy who gave a lot of girls head (In fact, I would totally consider that a plus!). But some other people aren't as open minded.


It's like, I never can win. No matter what. People keep trying to box me into their view of sexuality. And it drives me crazy. It really does.

Is it hedonist for me to just do what I want? It like scratching an itch, it is a natural thing. A natural thing that everyone else does. I really want to do, just what my body needs to. Just what it wants to.

Sexual Healing While in the Pit of Dysfunction

This is a really old post I had written but never published on another blog, it highlights some of my views on sexuality and why I think I became what I became.

Sexual healing while in the pit of dysfunction 

Healing while amidst a a whirlwind of clashing and harmful ideas of sexuality, the feeling of being in a pit of disease, with oppressive maggots crawling underneath one’s skin, the fear of succumbing to them, the fear of losing love, being too emotional, mental instability, confusion and uncertainty about what lies below, nausea, shaking, tears, anger.

This is not how things are supposed to be

Real love requires the sensitivity, connection and understanding between people. These things can combine to form an act in which two people manifest the positive attributes of their relationship as a physical form, an ecstatic/orgasmic release of energy that serves to strengthen the love at hand or at least maintain it.

But yet, most people struggle to find this even in successful relationships. Why you ask, would anybody allow such basic important desires to be stifled? From a woman’s perspective, it starts from day one: enshrouding sexual acts in guilt, keeping people in the dark about the true functioning in their body, employing scare tactics in religious systems, education systems, social systems in an attempt to keep kids from getting pregnant.

And this works for awhile, at least for some people, and it works really well. The problem being that when it comes time for it to be socially acceptable to be sexual, by then you have been internalizing shame and guilt for nearly two decades of your life.

It goes a little something like this: as a very young child, you begin to realize that doing certain things feels good, but you often try these things in situations when its deemed inappropriate and you are scolded accordingly. Almost immediately the child realizes that this is an embarrassing or unwanted act, something that must not be done, or only be done in secret. Naturally, the child’s curiosity gets the better of them and they begin to do it in secret but they are limited by the narrow scope of knowledge they have about pleasure and their bodies, so they do the simplest and most basics things to feel good when the have the limited opportunity. It becomes a sort of release, a guilty pleasure, something to help them fall asleep at times, which varies in frequency at different times of the child’s life, until they reach preteen year, when it is assumed that children will just be gaining these desires (which isn’t true, its been happening all this time) and seek to stomp them out early to prevent their children from getting knocked up. It is then that school and religious institutions begin frantically indoctrinating the young children, and the now preteen child becomes filled with anxiety-believing that what they thought was simply inappropriate behavior in public may actually land them in the burning fires of hell if they continue, or that they’ve been abnormal in some way enjoying pleasure before the other kids have begun to realize their desires.

So they begin to try and stop this behavior which has brought them so much comfort over the years, out of concern for normality and the state of their soul. Its difficult but eventually it stops happening so much and the child finds away to sleep except for an occasional bout of pleasurable activities. But its different each time, because now the preteen feels an intense feeling of guilt the next day, for giving into their demons, they feel self-conscious about it, like they are the only ones dealing with this problems. Soon, school has taught the preteen about ‘sex ed’ and they spend the day in a confused haze try to piece together the strange vague information presented to them. Does this apply to me? They wonder to themselves, as they certainly have no idea if they’ve ever seen anything like what what presented to them in the colorful reproductive drawings on the overhead. The thought of a strange inflatable organ is silly at best, or an unseen rigid third canal somewhere down there. Neither of these seem to fit a description of something the preteen possesses but nevertheless, later that day when going to the bathroom they glance down at what lies between their legs for a longer amount of time, but they feel baffled wondering where a third canal could (Or where the first and second are for that matter). But instead of investigating it, which could be masturbatory and therefore wrong, the preteen pulls up their underwear and promptly tries to forget about it.

Soon puberty arrives and their region down their becomes enshrouded in a dark forest of coarse, twisty hairs which seem to be a barbed wire fence yelling KEEP OUT! And the now teenager obeys and becomes almost fearful of it, trying not to touch it even while bathing for fear of being sinful, but it only makes itself more known secreting strange whitish globs of ooze into the unsuspecting teen’s underpants. The teen is handed books about ‘becoming a women’ which have instructions on how to combat stress and acne, periods and inserting a tampons. The teen shrinks into a corner while reading the chapter on tampon insertion, not wanting to be seen reading about such an obscenity, highly curious about this menstrual cycle which has yet to come-yet still, they are confused: the diagram is far too simplified, where is this hole the book speaks of? It seems to be right down below directly between the legs according to this diagram, but why couldn’t they see it?

Meanwhile, the teen begins to acquire information on real life sex from their peers, magazine articles, TV shows and the like. It seems to be that the only people having sex are known as dirty or slutty people, so the good girl teen doesn’t stop to think twice about doing such a thing anyways. Eventually, some older kids begins to inform her about first time sex, and she learns that something happens called ‘cherry popping’. It sounds horrific and further solidifies the fear of never wanting to figure out where this hole is, the one deep beneath the forest and the goo. The smell rising from it bothers her, she doesn’t know what it is or if its normal, the fear associated with touching it begins to rise.

Soon, feelings of want rise from her inner consciousness, inspired by animes and fan stories and other things of that nature. She begins to think of things that inspire her sexually, and her bedtime ritual begins again, although the visions are often foggy and unclear, there is barely anything sexual in them aside from kissing, yet still they are thought to be complete sexual desires. As the teenage years progress, and she begins to surf the Internet and her friends often talk things of an intimate nature but never about masturbation, just about how gross things were, or when they would like have sex for the first time and with who and so on. This information amounts to the teen forming a complete picture about sex: after a certain amount of time in a relationship, a couple will have sex, but the first time it will be very painful, the membrane covering the vagina will tear and the will be lots of blood, but after that sex will be good from there after. The teen resolves her self to put such an event off as long as possible if not forever, their vagina becomes a symbol of fear, that anything put into it might result in an accidental loss of virginity which would equate to intense pain. Thinking about it results in pain and anxiety, so she tries not to think about it whenever possible. Over time, the feelings intensify and everything people say only seems to reiterate the idea that first time sex is painful. Years pass, and still the teen hasn’t gotten any more education than that, the opening remains elusive, the teen never uses tampons or looks in a mirror for her opening, the anxiety is replaced by a feeling of sickness triggered by just looking at her vulva, even while going to the bathroom.

Then one day the older teen gets into a relationship, where she often fears that sex will be brought up. Even after all of those years of bedtime pleasuring, the teen is clueless about sexual matters, never having had a complete sexual fantasy. The boy tries to show her what might feel good for her, but she feels full of guilt and disgust, clenches her legs tightly whenever he goes down there and insists that it won’t work. He says that sex is only painful because most people aren’t doing it right, but she vehemently rejects that idea as false, since no one had ever said that before so it must be false. Over time, their relationship develops despite the problems, and she even becomes use to some activities performed even though her legs often clench tightly, and sometimes a feeling of sickness or anxiety passes over her. Even later than that, she decides that maybe she is ready to try sex with the right preparation, believing the discomfort may only be brief. However, when the time comes, she feels rather nervous but believes that its normal, when it comes times for him to try and enter her he places himself at her opening and she becomes hysterical-effectively stopping the activity. She’s left confused wondering “how did it get to this point?”

This is how it happens.

Progress!

I made great progress today, getting closer and closer to owning my body, and even closer to owning my sexuality. It's my body and I will use it when i want to. Made it swiftly to the second knuckle, and there was virtually no burning sensation. I wonder how I'll know when I've made it through? Like, when does it switch from progress to over? It's hard for me to believe that people put things up there, big things. I mean, babies come out of there! And here I am celebrating over half of a tiny little finger.

Life is funny like that.

---

It's strange, compared to last summer my life is tenfold more stressful than this summer, and yet I feel a lot better. Maybe it's because i've just given up or something. I'm just so tired of all of the crap. The dysfunction, the isolation, the crying, the self-deprivation. I just want it to end. I want new experiences, new emotions, I want the gross, dirty and humiliating life that everyone else can freely indulge in. And I think I'm on my way there.

I Love The Way You Hurt

For the first time in my life I've felt awesome and validated. Like suddenly I have the ability to be attractive to the opposite sex. It's silly really, but its been a long time coming.

It's hard when you encounter someone who's a really good kisser in a bar. I mean, what's the probability of that happening again? I mean, should it even happen again? I wouldn't be complaining. I could kiss like that all day.

I rather like kissing a man with a little stubble, a bit rough around the edges really. It's hard to get out of my head, just like that one time I was dating a guy and he whispered in my ear, "Are you gonna come for me?" And I can never get that out of my head. I fucking hate that guy, but I can never get that out of my head. Hot.

Sometimes things get complicated

They always do. But its my body and I will do what I want to with it. Mine.

This Morning I Sat Naked From the Waist Down Staring at a Mirror

Welcome to a blog post about vaginismus.

Vaginismus is the involuntary contraction of the vaginal muscles, which can occur in response to past pain or intense fear of pain. In its most severe forms, it can make any type of penetration impossible. To those of you who can simply insert tampons on a day of heavy flow, go to the gyno, self stimulate, have sex, these things may have been uncomfortable at first, or painful. But for me, they are impossible. I have never worn a tampon, I'm a virgin, no g-spot orgasms for me, weird hysterical meltdowns at doctors offices. It feels sometimes that my vagina is literally ruling over my life. I have this part of my body--this mystery part, that I cannot access. It is no longer mine.

It frustrates me to no end. Sometimes it makes me wish I was never born. There is no solace from it, because it lives on me, mocking me. Teasing me. It is ruining my adulthood, my relationships, my pleasure, and so much in between. I am broken. I am defective. I make the people I love angry.

I had to learn everything from scratch. I had to learn to be sexual, to touch, to look, to probe. These parts on my vulva, I didn't know what they were, or what they were supposed to look like. Looking too hard used to make me feel sick and lightheaded. What is this thing?! Is this some kind of joke? I used to think incredulously. What sort of frightening, flesh-fold abomination was this? Everyday after my shower, I sat in front of a mirror examining. It got easier as time progressed, until now I touch my body freely without fear. It was a triumph.

But now it leaves one more problem. The inside. What lies within this wet and frightening place? I was determined to find out today. I sat down in front of the mirror, yelling at myself, "Normal people do this every day, so why can't you?" "This is my body, and I can do what I want!" And I sat patiently, finger in place, waiting for the muscles to loosen, for the stinging sensation to lessen and become bearable. And I pressed on, slower the the slowest snails pace until I felt this hard rock. I realized this was my muscle. The doorway telling me to stop; the thing trying to keep me out of my body.

And at first, I was angry, but then I realized. Look, look how far I've come. I can actually feel the muscle. I don't just know its there, I have stood before the gates and asked for forgiveness. And I have been greeted by a cold stare. But at least I have seen that stare with my own eyes. And it can't last forever.

Why I Hate Summer

Since the beginning, I have always hated summer. Summer, brings out the worst. Every year it makes me just feel like shitty death. I begin to question my very validity as a person. It's hot, I generally am unemployed around this time. I have no obligations, no plans. Just an endless sea of nothing. Relaxing all day. All day. It's not relaxing. It's torture. Especially for a person with mental illness. It feels like I'm burning in the million fiery suns of hell. It's hot, I'm forgetting to eat. My energy level goes to zero. I'm dehydrated cause I don't care about getting up to drink or eat anymore. I stop picking up my phone. I can hardly use the bathroom. I can't sleep, and when I do it's plagued by horrible dreams. Even my waking hours feel like fuzzy blurs between consciousness and fictional insanity. And each summer, it feels like its getting worse. I feel like I have less and less. Sometimes I feel like I'm at the end of my rope. The stress makes it hard to hold a steady stream of thoughts or make conversation. It frightens me. I feel alone. Violent even, because I'm just so fucking apathetic that I just want everyone to leave me alone so that I can just climb away on a desert island and vomit out all of the bad thoughts until I just die.

It's ridiculous, and scary. But sometimes people get desperate. Sometimes people lose their jobs and their money and their sanity and their roommates. Sometimes people feel utterly alone. Sometimes, people lose their relationships because they can't have sex or be normal and useful. Sometimes it makes people crazy. Sometimes, people can't think of any scenario where they would actually feel good. And that makes the long tunnel of life seem dark and cold and moldy. It makes it seem unbearable sometime. It makes people's compassion seem unfathomable even. Like some sort of feeding tube or life support. Like I'm just some decorative corpse being carted around for the sake of others. A hollow shell of a human. So useless so soon. Inadequate. No value.

What good does a person with no value have, with no view of the future in which there is no pain? No relief from pain. Forever daunting. Forever insulted. No way out. What does a person like that do?
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Nothing, that person does nothing. Who's to say what lives have value and what lives don't? The burden I place on others is minimal compared to others. Debts can be repayed. Apologies can be made. Illness can be managed. Jobs can be gotten. Pain is eternal, but summer is not. It comes and goes each year after spring. But fall is always a cool breeze away. And things will be. Okay. Not good. Not ideal. But they will be. Because that's the way it has to be.

What the hell twilight?

What kind of a book series involves a man falling in love with a newborn baby?

A really, frighteningly popular one. One read by thousands of impressionable teens that don't know what love is yet. Teens who will never get a clear and non-fucked up message about love from any other media. It makes me want to write a book for young teens with a normal view about love and relationships. But then again, what is normal even?

I can tell you what isn't: a grow adult thinking a baby is his soul-mate. What happens if she grows up and decides she doesn't want to be with him? He won't have another soul-mate, so she'll essentially be screwing him over for life, even after all the time he spent watching over her as a baby. He waited so patiently, and thus, deserves a reward. And what kind of a force unintentionally makes an adult fall in love with a baby? Does he really like her? How could he? It's not her looks or her personality, she's hardly existed in the world yet! Is it because he thinks she will grow up to be a watered down version of her mother? I mean come on, how long is he gonna have to wait before true love can happen?

It's just all kinds of messed up. But it gives me some food for thought on normal relationship.

So I used my mind, and I used my hand, it was what I want to do

I really want to do just what my body needs to
If I could just hold all the thoughts in my head and just keep them for you
I want to do just what my body needs to
If I want I just might do what my body needs to
If I could just purge all the urges that I have and keep them for you


Adult sexuality is a complicated thing. Heck, sexuality is a complicated thing. Especially when it involves all the issues I have. I mean how are you supposed to be a sexual being when you can't have the type of sex that society as a whole has branded as normal?

Written a long time ago, but just for reference

Ground Rules:

No Lashing out at me: I am not the one who’s in the wrong here

You must be willing to hear me out

No jumping to conclusions

No putting words or intention in my mouth

First off, you cannot reason with someone while they are having a full scale mental breakdown. A breakdown lies not in rational thought and resides at the place where pain and illogical intersect. I envy you for not knowing what that is like, but I am glad for you. Breakdown is not a good place to be. But it means that your specialty cannot lie anywhere but sympathy, and not in empathy. You do not understand what it is like to be that desperate. Desperation is a scary thing, uncertainty is a scary thing, not feeling safe and secure anywhere. Burning in the fiery torment of pain from which you see no end. You don’t know these things, I can see that for sure. I am glad for that. But you must be willing to open your eyes and see it in others. But you see, this is complicated, because now I have given you a very personal part of myself. Something that cannot be taken back. You have seen me at the apex of all things bad. It is a part that almost no one on earth has seen, it is a dark and frightening part of myself. The thought of you holding me while I was so vulnerable is beautiful and touching to me. However, it leaves out a very important part:

The part where that should have never happened. I should have never been pushed to that breaking point. We should have talked it out like mature adults in a safe space at a time where it was reasonable. Instead of cornering me in a place that was literally inescapable, humiliating. The part where you literally forced your opinion of us onto me, we didn’t break up, You dumped me. You dumped me knowing full well where I stood at that point and time. At a time that you knew was important to me, on a day that you knew was stressful already, but you did it anyways.

And it FUCKING HURT. I entrusted you with my feelings, I made myself extremely vulnerable to you, I laid myself out there, I allowed you to push that envelope.

The night summer air is so quiet and still, it makes me realize that things are going to be alright.

I want to be a strong person. But it feels like life is just one blow after another. Sometimes it feels as though I constantly straddle the border of sanity and insanity at all times.

I just want my life back. I want to be creative, a good listener, a good speaker, sociable, a good reader and writer. I want to stop crying, to stop yelling, to stop feeling unclean. I want to be insightful.

But how? And when?

I have had so many experiences in my life, and I want to be able to turn them into something positive. To be able to make something beautiful and creative and insightful out of them. To be able to inspire others and set an example.

But instead I feel stuck in the same tape loop. And I don't want to be in that tape loop. I want to be myself. I want to be my adult self.

Things have taken an interesting turn

They always do.

But I don't whether to be ashamed of it or embrace it. My life is very weird. But I am tired of feeling bad about who I am, I'm tired of apologizing.

It's time to live.

Just About the Only Way I Would Feel Better Right Now is if I Was Lying in a Bathub of Cold Water While a Single Drop of Water Drips Onto My Forehead.

Nope, still not feeling any better today.

I feel angry.

I feel like I was played. I was vulnerable. I was stupid and optimistic and hopeful. I thought that things would change. Things never change, things are always going to stay the same. I thought that maybe, maybe you would like me. That you would be the one to accept me, that we could be happy. I could happy.  I had my doubts, I knew about her, but I thought that that would never go anywhere. I was sure that I was the better choice. I was sure of it.

But of course, I know how stupid I was. I should have known. After all, why would anyone like me by choice? I am stupid, ugly and broken. I will never be normal. I was just a fallback. I was just a boost to your self-esteem. Something to be used as comfort. I was never a real option. I was never a real consideration. I am nothing. I am a 'good friend'.

I don't have feelings. I'm too cool for feelings. I don't care about valentine's day, cause I'm just a friend. I should have known. My tears will go unnoticed. I am just a friend. Friends don't cry about these things. I already knew how this would end. After all, it's just me. Why would I think I have a chance? Why would I think anyone would want me?

I am stupid and I deserve this. I let this happen. I knew how it would end. So know I should suffer. I deserve it. I deserve the pain. Just like I did before. I do now.

I LOATHE myself right now. Why now? Why did you have to do it then? What about my feelings?

Happy FUCKIN valentine's day!

I wish you could have given me one more day. One more day in which I could sleep peacefully with the delusional promise that someone might actually like me despite what I am.

I don't understand why my feelings don't matter, why am I just collateral?

I LOVE love

I refuse to lose faith in love. Love, is a beautiful thing. I believe that the meaning of life lies in love. And by that I mean not to say that one must always be dating someone, but that the meaning of life is love between many peoples. Between friends and coworkers and family. The people whom support you, who you support in return.

But love between two people is a supplementary thing, an awesome cherry on top of life. That kind of love is the kind of love I strive to define. An irrational thing, explained in rational words. I think that love is something that is defined by its ability to permeate all emotions. Love makes the highs high and the lows low. Love in its strongest forms continues to exist even after chemistry is lost. It allows people to feel a greater depth of emotion. It teaches us to swallow the childish emotions we often feel, it teaches us to turn the other cheek, be the bigger person, to learn and accept the differences that makes us who we are.

Love is the feeling you get when you see that person smiling, the pain in your chest when you see that person sad. Love is those late nights spent holding each other in the dark as you drift off to sleep. The starry skies laid under while you ponder the meaning of life. The shooting stars, the long drives spent holding hands, the endless teaching and learning experiences, the sand between your toes and the intermittent tides. Those stupid ideas where you walk too far and have to call for a ride, the times spent eating pizza and watching star wars, the knock on the window at three in the morning, the sleeve to wipe your tears on.

It's the little things that remain when everything else is gone, its those little memories that make you smile or shed a tear as you go throughout the day. And that is what I live for.

I just want to experience the realness of my feelings

I want to feel the sun on my face

I want to feel the warmth of another person

I want to eat home cooked meals

I want to blow bubbles

I want to make art

I want to sleep out on a sun-porch in summer and lay in front of the fireplace in winter

I want to lay out and watch the stars

I want to smell the flowers

I want to play in the rain

I want to live, to love, to feel, to be.

What do I want in a relationship

I feel it necessary to somehow record how I feel about relationships:

-I want someone to listen to, and someone to listen to me
-I want honesty and openness
-I want to be able to have fun - dance with, drink casually with, eat with, spend time not doing anything with
-I want someone to hold hands with
-I want someone to nap with when we are tired
-Sexy time in which communication and openness, mutual enjoyment is emphasized, and PIV sex is not being actively presented as the only option
-Someone who can appreciate that I'm in a little bit of a complicated situation right now, but understands that I am a loyal and faithful person

No excessive PDA, sexual coercion, possessiveness, excess jealousy etc.

A sad post.

I'm sorry for everything that I am and everything that I'm not.

I have so much love to give and no one to give it to.