#FillthOver

So, I lied. To myself and you, dear reader. In my last entry back in August, I vowed to write more and that obviously didn’t happen. Not so long after writing that post, I found myself in a deep depression. Normally, I experience a deep void around the holiday season (despite being a complete sucker for Christmas). Said void came earlier, at the end of September. I hated my job, my life and myself more than usual. I felt stuck and alone.

One of my favorite things I love about myself is my resiliency. I’m always able to pull myself out of deep holes of despair. Yes, it takes time to do so- often weeks as it did this time around. But I’m now out. I climbed out of the hole, navigated my way through the clouds of stagnation and am wondering what to do next. I have to credit my friends and my father for extending their hands of hope as they reached in with their words of advice.

My dad said something that really resonated with me. I called him late one night to vent, sobbing that I didn’t make enough money to buy a car and how mentally exhausted I was. He reassured me that inflation prices will eventually adjust so I’ll be able to afford my dream Prius. Then he asked me, what I was doing for myself? I had to think hard. I was working a job that I desperately wanted to love during the day, and job hunting at night. I was working a second job, behind a bar four nights a week. I wasn’t riding my bike. I wasn’t writing. I completely abandoned my hobbies and my friends. I started drinking a lot.

I can’t remember the particular moment of that Friday but something triggered me at work. I walked to one of my favorite bars, had four of their strong frozen margaritas and then, texted all the numbers in my phone, saying that I hated them all. I started crying in the Lyft that picked me up and took me home. That crying continued into the night. I was angry about everything. My best friend, Clarissa, once old me that depression is anger toward inward. Once inside my apartment, I passed out and woke up a few hours later to 50+ texts of concern. That drunken moment left me ashamed and embarrassed, and I fell deeper into my depression. I was so incredibly mad at myself.

I thought for a long time on how to make amends to the people that I texted. I tried a little harder at work. I donated cash to the homeless man who slept at my bus stop. I tried to smile more. I was still feeling like shit. I don’t often take my dad’s advice- we just don’t have that kind of relationship. But I was starting to think that he was right. What was I really doing for myself? I thought that working so I could afford my bills was “something” for myself. I thought that job hunting for a better tomorrow was “something” for myself. No, they weren’t. Yes, they were helping make my life a little easier… But my life drained me. My soul was sucked out. What was I doing to restore it?

I didn’t want to go to my parents’ for the Thanksgiving weekend but I needed to get out of Austin for a while. I rejoined my Thursday night bike riding group. One night, at a pit-stop on one of our rides, I asked my friend, Stephanie, if she wanted to go to New York City for Turkey Day. We had the best time, exploring the city, meeting friends and seeing snow. My heart was so happy. Lesson learned: take all of your PTO.

As I look to the new year, I ask myself, How will I take care of my whole self? Lately, I’ve been really into horoscope readings (I’m a Pisces with stereotypical “fish-y” traits). My most recent one said that 2022 will be a year of massive gains for me. It will be filled with traveling, wealth, love- all the good stuff. I think about where I want to be at the end of next year and I think about all the work I need to put in. But within that work, I need to have some fun and do something for me.

What are you doing to fill your cup, dear reader?

#PlayingWithMyself

If you have that itch…

May is now over but orgasms are always something to celebrate. Last month was Masturbation Month. I started to write this piece then as an ode to the female-identifying body and the pleasure it feels. But, as it does, life got in the way and I’m finally publishing this today. Nevertheless, self-satisfaction will always be something that I want to write and talk about. I never shied away from the details my solo sex life (I’ve always been that person who’s fine with the nudity on television but never with the acts of gore and war). Despite the current stardate, I know that masturbation is still taboo and embarrassing to talk about. But by being open with my sexual habits, I hope to start chipping away at that stigma. Masturbation is a healthy part of one’s sex life, as well as positive contributor to one’s physical and mental health.  

I like to play with myself. Maybe a little too often. But I do it because I love myself. 

I’ve never been shy with admitting that I enjoy enjoying myself. As someone with chronic anxiety, I’ve been looking for the perfect cocktail of medication and meditation to help calm my demons. Masturbation IS good for you. I always believed that everyone deserves a fulfilling sex life, whether it was partnered or solo. But masturbation has always been a little bit more for me. It has been self-soothing, calming down my mind and getting me in touch with my body. It is one of the few times that I can completely emerge myself in the present moment and let’s face it- it’s the best form of exercise. 

I never felt pretty growing up and was a late bloomer sexually. In high school, my friends would talk about the various people that they were sleeping with and how sex felt for the first time. I’d listen, feeling jealous and alone but at night, I’d escape to the fantasy world that I created for myself. I’d shove my hand under the fabric of my underwear and break free. It was a place where I felt beautiful, sexy, desired and powerful. I could be whoever I wanted to be, as long as it wasn’t exactly me.

I had a typical west coast education- we had an okay sex ed program and learned about puberty and pregnancy. At the end of the school year, my health teacher, Mr. Padilla, had a Q and A where we could submit anonymous questions. There were plenty of asks about heteronormative sex; none about masturbation. We all asked questions about humping which probably two of the 30 students were actually doing. I guarantee the majority of us were masturbating, though. 

Throughout my 20s, I had various partners and an active sex life. Despite the frequent heartache I’ve experienced, it has never been truly detrimental because there was always masturbation. I’d relive certain sexual moments I had with a partner or fantasize about the guy I gave my number to at the bar. Masturbation is what I turned to when my most serious of relationships started to crumble. He didn’t want to have sex anymore and I thought about cheating. I’d lay next to my now-ex and think about being underneath him. I’d grab my breasts the same way he did, hoping to confuse my brain into thinking my touch was his. If I could only be as gentle as he was when he touched me. I often thought other people, mostly his friends, touching me as I touched myself. I’d feel guilty when I came, like I just shared a horrible secret.

Since that moment, I’ve approached diddling with more tenderness and compassion for myself, trying to not associate the attention for myself with the attention (or lack of) from a partner. Turning 35 was a game-charger. I often heard about that big sexual energy twist that happens in those few years left of fertilely- my body is saying, “you need to mate” while my brain is very happy in its little single bubble. During the COVID-19 pandemic, I thought about going back on Tinder to escape the loneliness. But then I would hear the small, muffled cries of my vibrator where it was hiding in my sock drawer. “Play with me instead! Keep yourself and others safe! We have more fun together anyway.” (How can I resist that sweet voice?!) I credit masturbation for keeping me sane during the pandemic.

As I age, I’m trying to figure out other ways to use this immediate rush of serotonin and endorphins to my brain- could the benefits of masturbation be helpful outside of the bedroom? One night over drinks, my friend and talked about our frustration with our jobs and how we managed the stress. I admitted to the occasional cigarette, a habit that I hate.

“I masturbate,” Christina said. 

I thought about it for a minute before replying. “I wish that I could do that. But it takes me forever to cum. Everyone would suspect why I’m gone so long from my desk.”

Christina shook her head. “I don’t masturbate until I cum. I just diddle myself until that mental light clicks on in my head and I’m full of good feelings again.”

Christina is clever and I often follow her advice. The following week, after a particularly awful team meeting, I slipped into the last stall in the restroom (the office’s private family room was unfortunately occupied). I bit my lips and went at it. The pain of my boss’s shrill voice vanished. I wasn’t a screw-up. I feel good. More good. I felt great. Everything was right in the world again. I didn’t need that cigarette. I was better to my body. I treated myself to the best feelings human have experience. I felt beautiful, powerful and satisfied. 

I then washed my hands and walked back to my desk with a smile on my face. Masturbation made my frown flip upside down.

I’m not going to ask you if you do masturbate, dear reader (because I know that you do). But what are your thoughts about breaking the taboo behind it? How do we start talking about the positive sex experiences in our lives?

#LoveLetterToThePassingYear

Dear 2020,

You were a year of calm. Okay, it was the year of absolute utter bullshit but it’s the year that I became calm. Well, calmer.

My mental health was something that I took seriously this year. I became really conscious. I paid close attention to my thoughts, to the words that came out of my mouth, to what I put in my body, to the actions and people that were lifting me up and putting me down, to how much movement I was doing every day, to the things and moments that made me feel truly happy and alive…

Back in February, I just discovered this song and have listened to it at least ten times a day since. One of Nao’s lyric went like this: “I wish that perfect was enough for my own heart.” It got me thinking about perfection and how much I self-sabotaged demanding perfection all the time. I think back on something my friend Lisa once said- don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Yes, I didn’t get the “dream” job that I wanted but I was able to work and buy the things that I needed (I got new glasses!). I didn’t find my perfect Mr. Right but I met some really cool and kind people. I found my hobbies again, as well as my tribe here in Austin, after being lost for such a long time. I also got more into biking, finally finished a painting and really celebrated my Puerto Rican background this year- three things that I’m really proud of. I feel good.

I learned a lot. I learned what I really wanted out of my life: the type of career I wanted, the relationship that I desire and deserve, the kind of lifestyle that I wanted to live. I may not have an exact five year plan but I finally defined my goals. I learned how to breaks- I took a social media break over the summer which was a godsend. I learned what triggers my depression- mostly finances but surprisingly, not loneliness as I once thought it did. I learned that I have a voice in my relationships and with the world around me. I learned that our country, though incredibly divided, will stand for what’s right. Black Lives will ALWAYS Matter and I’m hopeful about the state of our country. I do believe that we are slowly healing from the hate, as well as COVID-19.

In short, we keep fighting. We are intrepid. We carry on.

To end on a positive note (because the world needs more positivity), I hope we take the lessons that we learned from you, 2020, and keep in our hearts. I hope we continue to keep each other safe and let everything know that they’re loved.

Thanks for the memories. You were a dumpster fire of a year but I loved you, Andrea