Fifty Shades of Grey Vocab Lessons

Fifty Shades of Grey is peaking out of my beach bag a little earlier than expected.  I’m a hundred pages in and haven’t stopped reading, however the S/M adventures haven’t started yet.  The greatest thing I’ve taken away so far has been the vocabulary lessons.

This book is the closest I’ve been to reading erotica.  It’s neat to hear terms for things I like sexually and didn’t know they were “a thing”.

For instance while experiencing my husband’s fingers inside me his palm would sometimes brush my clit and it significantly increased my enjoyment but I didn’t have a voice or the wording to tell him.   During my readings as the main character is being pleasured it references the term “palming the clit”.   I got super excited when I saw that, I thought oh that’s a thing and now I know what to call it.

Saying words like clit is very uncomfortable so to practice I’ve been saying them while driving solo.  Enhancing my sex vocabulary will definitely help bring out my Inner Sex Goddess.

Woken with a Growl

It was Sunday morning several years ago and the phone on my nightstand buzzed.  My head pounded as I desperately regretted the previous night’s group SoCo and lime shot.  I pulled my hand out from underneath my pillow to silence the noise.  As my weight shifted I felt something or someone next to me.  Slowly and nervously removing the bed pillow covering my face I revealed a blond curly haired German I had been dating but never invited to my place before.   He smiled and flirtatiously let out a deep animal growl.  He finished with a “you’re wild.”

I couldn’t help but to think what the fuck.  Why was he in my bed, and why was he practicing safari cat calls?  After awkwardly parting ways I jumped in the showered and as the water rushed over my body so did embarrassment, shame and guilt.  My stomach was imprinted with several human bite marks.

The shame and guilt is for another post, the takeaway for now is my sex drive.  I don’t recall ever absolutely needing sex or being uncontrollably turned on sober.

Before starting my journey of self-love 5 years ago I inspired a song an ex-boyfriend named “Stoic”.  Like many of my friends my family didn’t share feelings at the dinner table.  I believe my life career of suppressing emotions has caused a riff in my relationship with my sex drive.

Nights like the one described above give me hope that I have a sex drive and when I’m not struggling for control it freely reigns.   There are parts of me however that fear that side…I mean “I’m wild” and someone feels comfortable growling at me after, is that something I really want to unleash?

My therapist encourages me to remember a sober freely reigning sex drive is much different than one driven by alcohol, and probably less scary.  She did caveat that in the world of sex the term “scary” is relative but that’s another post as well.

Sleeping in the Nude

Mothers are encouraged to hold newborns skin-to-skin the first few hours following birth. A mother does this by holding a naked yet diapered baby to her bare stomach and chest.   The benefits range from a calmer, warmer, and more comfortable baby, to enhancing bonding.

I’ve started exploring the potential benefits of skin-to-skin in a marriage.  Years ago I dated a guy who loved to sleep naked, unfortunately our sleepovers brought him nights trapped in boxers and a t-shirt.  I wasn’t open to sleeping solely in the flesh, and way too immature to sleep dressed next to someone who wasn’t.

But now I’m thinking there might be something to it.  Being naked with my husband without the pressure or purpose of sex has been extremely helpful.  Laying on his chest, noticing the feel of his skin, the way he smells and the echo of his heart has created a stronger physical connection (a good use of those sensory words).  Since most things lose their excitement when done too often this isn’t a nightly occurrence but thoroughly enjoyed when it happens.

Am I a lesbian if I enjoy girl on girl porn?

“Am I a lesbian if I enjoy girl on girl porn?”

The conversation had started 20 minutes prior with my therapist.

One of the things kids dread most is witnessing their parents fool around. Fortunately, I don’t suffer from visuals but I have been affected.

At the age of six I stood at the foot of a staircase leading to my parent’s bedroom, noises filled the air.  While I never had the birds and the bees chat I knew what they were up to.

Since, I didn’t have an understanding of sex I created one – it was scary and something men did to woman. For most of my life I’ve believed sex was made up of two roles, the victim (female) and victimizer (male), and the ultimate focus was on the male’s pleasure. Most of my past sexual relationships never challenged that theory.

I spent years trying to rewire that belief.  Despite my efforts, most of the time I still didn’t experience a loving connection.

Once in efforts to make sex fun and about sharing an experience, I tried watching a “video”.  It was my second time being exposed to porn. The first was in middle school with friends. I watched a few seconds and then turned away in shame with tightly closed eyes.

I learned from my later “video” experience that I didn’t like male on female porn. I don’t even know if that’s how you say it, male on female, but I hated it.

As I watched a tan, long hair man give it to a brunette, I grew angry and uncomfortable.  I tried to enjoy it but itched with rage.  It wasn’t “hard sex” as I guess some would say, but I didn’t like it.  I couldn’t place where the anger was coming from.  I ended up quickly shutting it off.

In attempt to stick with video night, we switched it out for lesbian porn.  Surprisingly to the point of embarrassment, I enjoyed it.  As I watched I was relaxed, had a quiet mind, and feelings of shame and guilt didn’t exist.  I was floating in pure pleasure.

This brought me to my therapist’s office with great concerns…

“I mean, I’m not attracted to girls in real life, I even kissed one once and didn’t get anything out of it.  So, why do I enjoy these videos?” I continued.

“Have you realized the videos you enjoy lack the victim vs. victimizer setup you associate with sex, and since there isn’t a male involved it’s viewed as pleasure for everyone, including you, rather than the “goal” of pleasuring the male because he doesn’t exist?” my therapist asked (or something along those lines only better).

What a relief I wasn’t a closest lesbian and at the time engaged to a man.

“How do I make all sexual experiences that pleasurable?” I asked.

“You’ll re-teach yourself about sex, what it is and what it means to you, and we’ll work through the past memories, thoughts and feelings.  Just talking about it helping you get there.”

In efforts to become a Sex Goddess, I’m no longer judging or analyzing the fact that girl on girl porn is enjoyable.  Its one of the few gateways to my sexual desire so instead of pushing it away I’m trying to embrace it.

Fifty Shades of Grey

Fifty Shades of Grey isn’t stashed in my beach bag just yet.  Descriptive S/M scenes slightly clash with this point in my healing process. I don’t know much about the book other than it being the catalyst of multiple girlfriends’ recent skyrocketing sex drives, but the title got me thinking.

When it comes to sex I’m living in a world of black and white.  Grey is nonexistent.  I’m either having sex (intercourse) or not.  And when I am having sex 5 minutes in I’ve already predetermined how it will end.

The idea of adding a little grey got me excited.  What if I didn’t interpret kissing as the doorway to intercourse, or my husband being in the mood to me being obligated, or starting to fool around with the sole focus of finishing?

I’m attempting to explore 50+ shades of grey in my bedroom by…

• Letting go of interpretations, restrictions, and judgments

• No longer viewing sex as black/white rather as a time to connect with my husband and allow that connection to become whatever it’s meant to be on its own in the moment (based on how we “feel”)

• Exiting my mind, instead of over analyzing during the act I’m checking in with my body – how do my lips feel against his, our skin, hands, etc.  That list of sensory words has been handy.

• Focusing on my breath, when my mind still won’t shut up I bring the focus to my breathing.  Once my mind is quiet I return to the body check-in.

• Being open to new experiences in the bedroom – creating a fun environment for connection, one that could involve massages and not climaxing, or whatever the grey area brings…

Paralyzed in Fear and Defeat

My therapist calls it sexual abuse; I call it the start.

I was waiting in the hallway of my middle school dressed in our gym uniform – navy blue mesh shorts and a red t-shirt.  Another 6^th grader who I had a crush on joined shortly after.  I don’t remember why it was just he and I, but within what felt like seconds he swept me off my feet from behind and pulled me into the boy’s bathroom.

He dragged me through the door until his back was against the white tiled wall.  I tried twisting out of his grip but his arms were tightly wrapped around my body squeezing my breasts.  After pulling at his wrists that wouldn’t budge I became paralyzed in fear and defeat.  A scream in my throat bobbed like a buoy, begging to come out.  I wanted to yell – help, stop, get off, but I couldn’t say a word.  I had never served a detention so my greatest worry was being sentenced one for being in the guy’s room.

After awhile one of his hands moved down the outside of my shirt and onto the crotch of my shorts, he continued groping.  I closed my eyes, praying for it to stop. I can’t remember how I finally got away but I do recall feeling used, violated and guilty.  I kept the incident a secret and blamed myself because after all I had a crush on the guy.

Several months ago my husband playfully grabbed me in a similar way to my previous classmate and set off a trigger.  My body grew in rage and anger.  I felt suffocated, unsafe, and petrified.  I quickly forced myself out of my husband’s arms to catch my breath.

To this day I still can’t call the incident sexual abuse.  Those words remind me of horrible childhood molestation and rape stories I’ve heard.  I don’t consider my situation anywhere on the same scale.  The problem with this value system is I’m not validating my feelings, I’m denying them.  Clearly given my recent experience with my husband my old way isn’t working.  So, I’m off to find a way to heal this wound once and for all.

 

Strapped for Sensory Words

Soft, sore, rough, tight, flexible..I’ve been limited to these words during my recent body check-ins.   Not only do I rarely notice how my body feels I also rarely use sensory words.  So, to prevent redundancy to the point of boredom I Googled a bunch of terms, here are a few more – cool, breezy, wet, tender, smooth, sharp, silky, prickly, hard, icy, dry, fluffy, and elastic.

Remembering to be conscious of my body daily is difficult.  I’ve found it’s easier if I tie these sessions into routine activities such as – showering, driving, eating, and stretching.  The good part is at times I am finding moments of pure relaxation when I shift the focus from my mind to my body.

Revving Up for Sex

My first car was a steel blue Volvo station wagon.  At the time I was living back east.  Since it wasn’t the newest of cars, when the winter months rolled in it required a little extra attention.  Each morning I’d slowly sip tea while it warmed up.  If I shifted into drive before it reached its desired temperature it wouldn’t run smoothly.

In a recent “self cultivation” session I realized I’m a lot like that Volvo when it comes to revving up for sex.  I can’t just turn it on and off like men seem to be able to, or female movie stars.  Jumping into intercourse before my body is warmed up doesn’t work.  If anything it hurts.  In the past I thought something was wrong with me so I’d just fake enjoyment and go along with it.

I assumed if I started out uninterested (doing it out of guilt or feelings of obligation), I’d remain uninterested.  So, mentally I’d shut off and wait for the finale.  I didn’t know I had another choice.  Now I’m thinking I could have slowed things down until I reached my “desired temperature” and then maybe I’d enter a space of true enjoyment.

With sex, I’m finding there is no right or wrong. I get to write my personal sex owner manual because everyone is different.  With that comes a need to accept the way my body functions and embrace it.  I also need to determine my “desired temperature” in the bedroom and share it with my husband.  I’m a little nervous though because most of my “self cultivation” sessions start out with 10 minutes of lightly running my fingertips over my skin.  It helps quiet my mind and brings me into the sensation of the touch.  I guess I just feel weird asking for that, in my mind prepping isn’t typically required for sex so I feel like I’m putting my husband out, but this month is about my needs so I’ll give it a shot.

Do It Anywhere Without Anyone Knowing

My late teens weren’t easy, between the ages of 17 and 19 I totaled a car and beat two different types of cancer.  Over that time my body was cut opened, poked with needles, injected with chemo, and forced to live with foreign objects.  It experienced its share of trauma.  I’m starting to think that trauma is the reason I no longer feel I’m living in my body.  I left to escape the physical pain and never returned.

I told my therapist while waving my hand above my head, “I don’t feel like I’m in my body, I’m living out here.”

The reason I brought it into our session was because I questioned how I’m suppose to initiate sex solely on “feeling” the urge when I’m not connected to my body enough to know when I have the urge?

Feeling as though I’m not in my body is a constant struggle.  It makes enjoying sex difficult.  If I’m not attuned to the sensation of my husband’s hand on my thigh how can I know if I like it?

The hardest part of believing I’m living outside of my body is the expectation of coming back to it.  I picture the arrival as a comet dropping to earth.  My therapist pointed out the pressure of that expectation masks all the ways I’m currently living in my body.  Her line was perfect, “if you weren’t in your body, you wouldn’t be able to walk or move right now.”

That sentence shifted my focus from coming into my body to being more aware of my body, which seems less of a challenge.  So, I’m off on a mission to check in with my body several times daily.  By asking how my feet, back, hands, etc. feel I’m getting into the habit of being present physically.  I started doing this and it’s amazing how often I shift positions after because I realized a part of me was asleep or uncomfortable.  Apparently, after doing this for a while it will become natural.

As for the sex part my therapist suggested what my girlfriends recently called kegel exercises.  By contracting the muscles I’d use to hold back urine, I can consciously connect with my sex organs.  WebMD says, “kegel exercises are easy to do and can be done anywhere without anyone knowing”.  Just think of all the places I can connect with my lady parts.  My therapist did note it might be beneficial to contract those muscles when I’m “excited” and when I’m not, just to start familiarize myself with changes that occur when I’m aroused.