Coming Home

Its been a week since I've returned home and I'm already sitting in the feeling that I made a mistake. I know that this is just a step in the ladder of my journey and I am trying to have faith in that fact. Life is funny the way if gives you exactly what you need. Yesterday I was doing my Native American spirit animal cards and I pulled Black Panther which is all about embracing the unknown. This particular lesson is all about the need to follow our dreams to heal ourselves and how to fearlessly face the unknown and step into the unfamiliarity of the journey of self discovery. I have always struggled with just "being", consistently feeling the need to be doing something. Sitting still has always been the challenge, "being me" the struggle. I have started to learn who I am over the years and now am at the point where I'm starting to embrace myself, joyously refusing to dim my light or apologize for who I am so that I can fit in -insert name here- 's little box. I left New York ready to see where this new love and acceptance of myself would lead me. My plan: to take a step out of the concrete jungle to save some money so that I could explore the world abroad, something I've been dreaming of since I was a girl who wanted to move to Brazil. I realized I've always wanted to get away, to escape, but never fully understood why I was running so fast and so hard. Through the help of therapy, groups, life challenges, whatever you want to call it, I have been able to acknowledge the "fuckupedness" of my childhood and sit in my truth and say "shit's not right," while forgiving people, including myself, and recognizing where it all comes from and that everyone is doing the best they can. But even with all this new awareness the demons of the past have popped out like the monster in the closet (in the middle of the night when I finally feel at peace). Being an adult back in my childhood home is like an earthquake to my recovery, shaking me up and showing me where the fault lines are still weak. I AM AN ADULT!!!! I shout it from the rooftops. That manifestation of anger, soaked in the need to assert my individuality, be seen and heard, and above all treated with respect pours from my loins like sweat in a sauna,  Taking joy in the vision of me setting my childhood house on fire and watching it burn to the ground quickly awakened my awareness of  my true feelings. Accepting that I hate this place and realizing that it will never change. Only I can change, giving an entirely new meaning to coming home.

WTF Man?

What the fuck man, what has happened to the art of foreplay? Not the type of foreplay where you push our heads down towards your dick or directly swing your dick in our faces, like our main goal in life should be to slob on your knob.  After many conversations with sexually active women, I have come to the conclusion that many of us like or really love to give head. We relish the fact that we can make your toes curl and make you say "Stop, Stop, Stop."  But not when you try to force it on us, just sit down and shut up and the amount of head you get will steadily increase, especially if you make the girl cum first. Why do dudes think they can just climb on top of you and stick their dicks inside you without any kind of warm-up. That does not work. Kiss me, touch me, do something; don't just push that stick inside me and think you're doing big things. Cause the truth is, you're probably not. Also, I am completely saddened by the fact that I have begun to encounter too many men that need an anatomy class. If you are over the age of the 30 and you keep trying to find the vaginal hole near the clitoris or the urethra, you might want to open a 9th grade health class book and study the chapter on female anatomy. Its one thing when your dick slips towards my ass, I mean those holes are close, but its a whole other issue when you are not even in the ball park. My hope that you can make me cum disintegrates completely. Side note; guys don't think we don't know the difference between a dick slip and an anal attack, you're not that slick. On the oral front, please do not blow on my vagina, it is not a candle on a birthday cake. Ladies it is up to us to stop this chain letter of horrible sex, so the next time he asks you "is it good?", TELL THE TRUTH, not only does it help them, but it also helps the next girl and how are they supposed to learn without a little guidance.