Insatiable... maybe not?

I'm beyond hungry for success.

I think I'm starving even, but really it's only my fear glimpsing future famine and anticipating the impending disappointment of a life of just scraping by. This line of thought is ludicrous.

Just because my life doesn't have all the ingredients for a profitable and conventional route to success doesn't mean I can't get there by alternative means.  I think the best kind of success for it's staying power is the ability to use whatever you have available around you without privilege of family money or of social status or connections.

Well, it looks like I'm about to find out by personal experience. Even though I'm nearing the end of my first Trimester and come April, will be stepping into Single Mom role for the many years ahead, that doesn't mean success is not attainable as I persist. Therefore, I REFUSE to concede a life lived at the poverty level.

What's a brain for but to work it out, right?

Sure, I'm poor. I'm in debt. I have no father or mother I can look to who will be there for me, no partner to support me and truly love me for who I am. (not what I look like or can do for them)

There was no happy, healthy childhood I can draw from. No male in my life to satisfy and share in basic human intimacy needs. No College degree. No solid full-time job, and a car only Macgyver with all his toothpicks and paperclip jerry-rigging could love.

But what I do have: survival skills - Determination, passion, persistence and belief in myself that I am worth it.

Anything is possible if I'm hungry enough....

So how hungry am I?

                                                      Hungry enough to make it happen!

Not exactly what R Kelly had in mind

I tend to think that there are a large number of men who consistently date hypothetically.

What do I mean?

Well, you know how when a guy is interested in some girl he feels is way out of his league? He pursues her, turned on by the chase, eager to know if he can actually win over this 'girl of his dreams'. When she reciprocates to his great surprise, he feels suddenly that the whole situation is no longer hypothetical and he is then suddenly not up for it. He was only wanting to see if it was 'possible' and was not actually looking for a relationship right then, but merely looking to see if it could be possible in the future at a time when he then really would be ready to invest his time, money, etc...

I think I'm guilty of treating my Uterus in that same manner.

If you've read any of my previous posts, then you know that I've begun taking on the 'invincible complex'. What I mean is, there have been far too many occasions wherein I should have gotten pregnant but did not. Those instances have solidified my beliefs that I will probably never get pregnant, unless hell were to freeze over.  Well, the devil better get his parka on...

I'm pregnant.   At least I think I am... that is to say; four pregnancy tests can't all be wrong, can they??!   Now I'm officially screwed. What the fuck was I thinking?!! I was just so sure it wouldn't happen to me, despite my deepest longing to eventually birth a baby of my own flesh and blood.... Don't get me wrong here, I am beyond happy that I'm pregnant, I just don't want to be RIGHT NOW!!!! I just barely am getting back on my feet after being homeless and am completely unprepared... 

My ridiculous need to challenge and test the future on the assumed lack of my body's baby making capabilities....   NEWS FLASH: If you test the future out now, it will happen NOW.

This is definitely not what R Kelly had in mind... 

9 months of (baby) Bump... 18 years of (daily) Grind.

Ugghh...

Well, I better get dressed now and haul my denial over to Planned Parenthood for a confirmation pregnancy test.  

Wish me.... oh to hell with it, it's too late for that now!

The Lap of Luxury

It's not what it's cracked up to be.

I doubt I'm the only one who has fallen prey to the lure of the 'glamorized, easy life' - alcohol, sex, drugs and rock & roll... strippers are often smack dab in the middle of that scene, riding on the 'laps' of monetary gratitude... though it's hardly what I'd call luxurious!

I told myself it was the dream of pursuing the things I loved and using this unconventional role as the means to fund that dream as I could not procure my immediate cost-of-living through other venues. Rent was due, my credit was shit (a great big thank you to Capitol One for that outcome)  Truth is I was frustrated that my culinary career was not unfolding in the way I had hoped. So I took the desperation plunge and on a 'fuck it all' whim, landed myself in a strip joint. To my instant relief, free time was now ample. One shift would easily pull in $500-700 take home, more than enough to cover rent and necessities. That was even under the "you can look but you can't touch" rule. Hypothetically, it seemed a perfect solution on the surface. I had only to work 3 maybe 4 shifts a month to be set up quite well.

The ugly truth was I hated it all. I hated being objectified. I hated that people who knew, treated me like a slut. Often the assumptions of my character or lack of would be based on the stigma that all dancers were of course cheap and easy and fucked up and therefore all the easier to prey on and manipulate for sexual purposes.  We girls were treated like dogs...seen only as tits and ass, legs with holes, mere punchlines to the frequent testosterone-filled bachelor parties swarming through the clubs, hoping  for a bit of groping, ogling and possible extra-curricular activities as well.

"Everyone has a price, just gotta find the right price, a few rocks, fat lines or a wad of cash, any bitch would hop on this 'opportunity', duck out to the parking lot for a quickie blow job or two on a moment's request, why the fuck wouldn't they...they're at a fucking strip to make some dough up in here!"  Frequent offers which I turned down just the same.

All my initial dreams at this point were fading fast and disillusionment was setting in... losing my conscious inhibitions, surrounded by drugs and a hell of a lot of hard liquor. Snorting Cocaine my frequent drug of choice was quickly incorporated into my slippery, now self-medicating lifestyle in the hopes of numbing the shame of the ditch I had crawled into and in which couldn't seem to get back out. 

The months flew by and I knew something had to change.  Mustering up a shit load of courage to leave my hometown and get away from my festering addictions  I realized drastic changes needed to be made or the path I was on would eventually be the end of me. I chose to start over in LA, near family but was blindsided upon arrival; instead of getting a fresh start, I was forced into homeless shortly after getting down there.  Here I am, having to escape a destructive lifestyle, this time in family which ironically mirrored the very addictions I'd sought to leave behind in my own life.

The Government, I quickly discovered, had done a smashing job of creating shelters for homeless children, mothers with children and the drug and alcohol dependent addicts.  Bravo! Single females who seek to improve their lives despite dysfunctional family, emergencies or just plain having fallen prey to the crashing economy...well, those women are just clean out of luck.  

So what to do... should I have turned back toward the addict lifestyle again or maybe get knocked up and then give 'em a holler, they'd be happy to hook me and my baby up then.  

 In the meantime,  sucks to be you... hope you make it lady.  And do be careful you don't get raped, beaten, trafficked or killed out here on your own in the process.

Locals referred me to a warehouse shelter in that area where, after being frisked for possible weapons, my eyes could then grab a restless hour or two of sleep for the night on a thin mat with a military-issue wool blanket. Then we're up at 4:30 and hit the streets. Me with my luggage in tow and, provided luck were on my side, have directions in hand on exactly where I could get in line for one free meal that day to hold me over until evening rations were doled out.

National guard staff and civilian volunteers welcomed us back in at 5:00 each evening to stay another night there under the dimly lit, drafty warehouse and so I'd return every day, hopeful to reclaim a sliver of dirty concrete floor next to some worn out urine-soaked stranger who had just been booted out of their halfway house for tweaking out on Meth, Heroine, or prescription drugs again, and was then eyeing what little belongings I had managed to retain with no choice but to cling to them as though it were an extension of my last breath.  

Being vigilant 24/7 was beyond exhausting and was beginning to take a real toll on me emotionally and mentally not to mention my immune system.  It was there at the shelter where one of the volunteers advised me to lie to their intake supervisor who could get me set up within a 'Sober Living' facility. This advisement came on the back of being solicited for sex by a Sergeant in charge of that military homeless relief venue the night prior... I was desperate for anyone to help me... PLEASE, ANYONE help get me off the street!!!!  I'll go to meetings, I'll say I'm an addict... just please... please don't leave me out here vulnerable on the street anymore!!!

I continued to work hard to get beyond the very real temptation picking away at me to succumb to my surroundings and medicate my life away, because amidst this 'Sober Living' facility I soon discovered, it was anything but! The scenery may have changed but the content was still the same...same destructive, addictive, lying, conniving and manipulative environment.  Spinning my wheels with all this effort, only to land in the exact same spot... I felt like a hamster in a cage, relying on others to bring me my proverbial 'food and water' essential to survival and I felt emotionally/environmentally caged off as well, from the freedom I so desperately craved.

What I needed was to take control of my life quickly... and there was really only 1 way I knew how: that was to earn my own money... jobs were scarce particularly as I did not speak Spanish. And most jobs available I was turned down as 'overqualified'.   I threw my hands up in desperation and headed back to the club scene, still emphatic on drawing the line "You can look, but you can't touch!" I made up my mind I would not 'get in deep' this time... this decision was solely for the intention of securing the money I needed to GET OUT of California and back to Oregon where I still had family and hopefully survive this on-going nightmare before it got the better of me. 

I KNOW what I would have done hypothetically BEFORE I actually physically ended up in that dire situation. It's a funny thing.... where we draw our level at which 'the buck stops here'. When push comes to shove and survival is on the line... and I'm not talking about a one-time decision here either... It's an on-going, every minute of every difficult, scary as all hell, dangerous, day by day... by day.

Now that I've finally emerged from the Adult entertainment scene and out of homelessness altogether, I can say this with certainty;  I'd damn sure rather turn down the hand of luxury than have to sit ever again in it's perverted fucking lap.

Waking Up Naked

I had an old friend from way back. I'll call him Sam. He was the first guy I'd had a crush on during my highschool years that actually seemed to reciprocate my feelings despite the 'nerd-shy introvert' status I held back then. Well, as much as he could anyway, under the circumstances.

'Sam' was a good guy, albeit he was still met with extreme skepticism by both my sisters considering themselves my 'keeper'...introverted, naive, closed off even, I was easy prey, often attracting testosterone-crazed males who sought to take advantage... that was the pattern anyway.

I recall a time in particular: I was 15, Sam had asked me if he could kiss me. Well, his question threw me... I'd never been kissed before. (outside of the biological one's incestuous behavior toward me)

Growing up under very strict religious boundaries that were contradicted daily at home, I felt acute impending shame should I choose to go against that which I'd been ingrained to embrace. Utterly convinced that even a kiss was of course, terribly wrong and sinful. Needless to say, I shut Sam down instantly, giving him an emphatic "No way, are you kidding? You know how I feel about that!".

Truth was, I really wanted him to kiss me, but the very prospect of guilt kept me from exploring my own feelings, whether I agreed with what others felt was the right choice to make or not. Took me 31 years to climb that mountain of guilt holding me back and begin exploring the other side of those repressed feelings I had labeled as shameful for so many years.

It seems silly now when I look back at the emotional turmoil I wrestled with over something as simple as a kiss.

Sam and I recently stumbled across one another on a free local dating website of all things.

Strange to bump into him now, 20 years later, after so much has changed in the process of my paradigm shift and the numerous ways those changes have shaken the very core of my belief system. (I'll be elaborating more on that as well...)

I didn't know what I thought of running into Sam again. I admit I was so set on NOT exploring the crush I had way back when, especially on the first 'date' if you will.

I came over to his place to see his 'project'...the renovations made on the previously 3 bedroom house. We talked, ate, swam in his pool and after a few Rum and Cokes he'd made, I did what I said I WOULD NOT!!!! I even stopped him and said I wasn't ready... and then, I don't know why, but a minute later I changed my mind, grabbed his hand, drug him to the edge of the bed and insisted he 'just do me'.

Strange too, because aside from an emotionless, unromantic itch on my part for a quickie, the only reason I even had mechanical sex with him was to get pregnant. He gave a compelling argument, why I shouldn't wait to have a baby of my own and offered to be the donor. (gee wiz, so accommodating.)

Sam managed to persuade my alcohol-faded ass, that if I was gonna go the sperm bank route anyway, wouldn't I much rather save all that money and at least know whose genes were participating in this decision. Genius of course!

...seriously, what the hell was I thinking?!!??!

TRUE, I do not want to be a single mom, but nor do I want to live my whole life never having had a child of my own because I'm 'waiting for the right situation' which may never come... From a clinical standpoint, I honestly feel it would be beyond miraculous if I were to actually get pregnant. I have level 4 Endometriosis. The chances of my getting pregnant, even standing on my head are slim to none.

I admit it, I have foolishly and brazenly beaten the 'single mom' status to this point.... not because I was smart by any stretch, but simply because my body has thus far chosen to deny me pregnancy. I feel I have been both fortunate and deeply unfortunate. I desperately want kids... so badly, it hurts and I recognize that my impatience and sadness being without a little girl or boy of my own flesh and blood is probably clouding my judgement.

Clearly it is unwise for me to recklessly dive into steps toward becoming pregnant as I am hardly in a suitable situation in which to birth a child. Single and grappling to get back on my feet after a recent 3 very dark years, 2 of them homeless in LA. (escaping the blindside of a family member's surfacing acute addiction.)

As you can see, still decompressing and recovering from that nightmare, as I slowly begin again to rebuild my life from the ground up, this is hardly commendations for nurturing and raising a child.

It's been two weeks now since meeting up with Sam. I'd be willing to bet money he failed to get me pregnant despite his supreme confidence in the abilities of his little swimmers. Quite sure I'll be proven right in another 2 weeks or so, you'll see...


As it stands... time that is, I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

I'm wide awake now, in my late 30's and facing my nakedness with a grain of salt... how vulnerable I truly am while I begin to see myself honestly for who I really am, what I've become and more importantly, who I can be if I really believe it and don't give up.

I seem to take turns - on and off the fence when it comes to my own level of self esteem and self appreciation...reminding myself, if I truly love me, I must love ALL of me. I must embrace my 'nakedness' of mind, heart, soul and emotion, no matter what.

The good and the bad, they don't define me after all... they merely serve a purpose, leading me to my healthier and more balanced self throughout my day-to-day steps toward wholeness and to also give back along this journey out of the depths of what I've endured and what I have learned since.

Then again, who am I to talk about being an example? I feel so dysfunctional anymore... but I wanna learn from past mistakes and from the mistakes of others so that my past and the mistakes to come (and they will come) won't all be in vain.


Hmmm.... nope. Not an ounce of attraction this time around between me and Sam... at least I certainly don't feel it. I am however, uncomfortably aware after a brief 5 minute sexual encounter between us, that it was and is far easier for me to just straight fuck and forego any kissing or cuddling. It's easier for me to say "no foreplay alright, just get on me already and let's do this."

There's a level of intimacy where I feel vulnerable and weak... I abhor that feeling! I push it/him away, afraid the guy will not respect my boundaries. If he doesn't really 'know me' on the emotional deeper level, then I feel I can somehow exert some sense of control, in that he cannot know the emotional buttons by which to push or manipulate me. I am at liberty to withdraw and disappear easily if I feel threatened by any possible chance of vulnerability.

You see, in my experience guys have often expressed by behavior that upon encountering vulnerability or the broken and scared elements kept deep down...they want to 'fix you', 'control you'... they feel you 'owe' it to them to express your gratitude. This then translates to submission and forced dysfunctional intimacy...that scares the hell out of me more than anything else... that my boundaries will not be respected and I will essentially be his 'fuck slave' by way of guilt. "I pleased you because I love you, so you need to reciprocate or else you ungrateful piece of trash!" "After all, you're not worth shit, no one would want you, but I love you and I believe in you even when no one else will, especially when they see how worthless you are, even then, I'll still put up with you and I'll still love you..."

Fuck that! I REFUSE to pack my bags for anyone's guilt trip!!!! And so to protect myself, I kick him to the curb (sometimes prematurely for fear of those tactics and the pain that ensues) and I run like hell the other way...

I hate that I am so fucked up as evident by all the triggers that occur with every man I date. They are either repulsed by my past or are far too interested in hearing the details of my pain and abuse.

How can I ever be in a normal relationship? Normal? what is normal anyway. ...correction, can I ever find and maintain a healthy relationship? One that would be nurturing for the child I will have one day?

In spite of the hovering cynicism, as I rebuild my life I'm finding fragments of ideals amidst the ruins and I do think deep down, there's still hope for me...

though the very thought of trudging ahead with my own personal recovery, it's bloody exhausting!

(sigh))

time for a nap.

In Bed With My Conscience

Cathartic release doesn't necessarily get the job done...well, not for sexual tension anyway.

So why am I doing this blog?

My thoughts are that it can't hurt and though it may not be the cure to avoiding promiscous behavior and curbing my fleshly appetites, I at least get some pleasure fingering it out on the laptop.VHI's Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew has served as a means to solidify my suspicions that I am infact a female sex addict. Jennifer Ketcham and Nicole Narain, two women I watched from that show of whom I have great admiration and respect and relate to far more than I would have expected.

I too am a survivor. Raised amidst a controlling, so-called christian conservative homelife in which on-going covert abuse devolved throughout my childhood.

So it begs the question: why would I turn toward and not away from the presence of these unbridled sexual lusts and cravings which in essence have become the very bain of my existence?

My own struggle with pent up sexual tensions, though once dormant, have since awakened with abandonment and are proving too much for me to handle. I've called in many a time to take off from work in order to stay home all day and masturbate for hours on end. I've spent whole weekends camped out in front of my computer or TV taking in whatever sensory stimulation will turn me on and get me off.


I don't want to settle into this habit but reeling it in has become an increasing monumental task. It's been 2 months now and all I can think about is the underlying persistent sexual tension sending hormones coarsing through my veins with every frustrated fiber of my being telling me I'm long overdue for a fuck if and I don't get laid in the very near future I'm liable to spontaneously combust!

((((((Sigh.)))

Men I've been with would love to thank God. Seems he forgot I was a woman when he gave me this astronomically relentless sex drive. I can't say I share the sentiment.

I guess at 36 years of age, what I really want and hope to eventually find is Synergy; finding that one who can be my best friend and visa versa. I don't just wanna be someone he can live with. I want to be the woman he can't live without!

Being single is far better than settling for a man who is with me only because I persuaded' him or because I was the default choice when he lacked other options at that time. Though sex is not the ONLY thing I desire, it is a crucial part of what I'm looking for. As someone who craves sex to the degree I do, I don't think it's at all unreasonable or out of balance to want a man who can keep up with me in this way. There must be chemestry, strong compatibilty (mentally,emotionally and spiritually, physically and sexually). And in that, I refuse to compromise.

Back when I was a young teen even, I had wanted my own children. I'd like very much to adopt someday, but I do desire my own flesh and blood...to carry that child as it grows inside me and then to give birth, in all it's painful and exhausting perfection.

Being a single mom is not an option for me, though the thought of never having one of my own is too painful to acknowledge. Who knows what the future holds. I may even consider Invitro if I secure the financial stability for such an option in the future.How do I reconcile my sexual cravings, my need to be a woman of character and moral value???????? Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in it.

Can anyone or anything help??????