A Blog About Sex

So the other day,

A friend asked on a Facebook group,

Some questions about sex.

I was SO excited.

I love sex.

I am good at sex.

It’s cool.

I had answers for questions,

I had all kinds of things to say,

And then I said,

Haha maybe I should start a blog about sex for Catholics.

And then I meant it.

But like really?

Little miss goody two shoes?

Talking on the web about sex?

Teaching women how to commit to their orgasm?

Me?

That does not make any sense.

But you know what?

It makes me crazy excited.

Like bouncing up and down,

Laugh,

Feel joy,

Excited.

About writing about sex.

Yep.

Yep, that’s a thing.

When Morning Sickness is not just Morning Sickness

Dear Reader,

I am so tired. I am here to talk to you about something that not many know about, and those who do know about it know it all too well. Morning sickness is an often joked about part of pregnancy. Women on television daintily vomit into a trash can and go on about their day. Then, second trimester they are fine. There are women for whom this is a reality, and I am so happy for them, but there are others who laugh at the term ‘morning sickness’ for its inept description of their 9 month personal hell. These women suffer from something called Hyperemesis Gravidarum, which means severe morning sickness, and I am one of these women.

I am lucky as far as HG sufferers go. Many spend multiple days in the ER getting fluids to keep hydrated enough to survive, let alone nourish their growing baby. I have only one HG related scare that I may have to go into the ER, but I experience enough of the symptoms to tell you that HG is no joke.

Imagine the first day of the flu, you are weak and nothing seems to sit well. You gag at every smell and food is the worst thing you have ever heard of. What if told you that was your life 24/7 for 9 months? I am on medicine for my HG and I still have at least one day a week when every inch of my body is in pain and I can’t even imagine eating. Part of the curse of HG, though, is that this is not just a couple days. You can’t let yourself not eat because you and your baby will starve. So I force down whatever seems like it might not make me nauseous, and not just nauseous like a tummy-ache, but I literally have to sit in a certain position all day and chew ice chips to keep myself from vomiting.(Though I recognize I am lucky that I don’t experience uncontrollable all day vomiting like so many women do.)

What’s worse is stress makes my HG worse. This means that the struggle of trying to figure out what food won’t make me nauseous, just makes me sicker, and feeling the nausea makes me sicker, and having an uncomfortable conversation makes me sicker. I hate myself sometimes for the loss of patience this causes in me with the daughter I already have. She is precious and so well-behaved, but her cry releases cortisol in me which makes me feel like vomiting. So instead of selflessly worrying about what she needs, sometimes I just want to scream at her to stop because it just hurts so much when she cries, and it won’t stop hurting for hours after. I have less patience with other members of my family too, people who normally mildly irritate me, make me furious because my short stressful conversations with them result in a whole day of mindful breathing and panic attack management from how exhausted I am, and again trying not to vomit.

People often say to HG sufferers, “Oh just get someone to help you.” Well, unfortunately our culture has created the do-it-all woman, so now we are expected to do it all. While this may be great for women’s advances in business and careers, family members and friends no longer crowd around any pregnant woman to help her with anything she needs. There are lucky women, and I am lucky in many ways, but there are moments when I hide in the bathroom sobbing that I can’t go on, only to do it again the next day.

I feel so much guilt because I should feel grateful for the help that I have, for not working during this pregnancy(HG at a new job is a nightmare) for family who helps when they can. I am grateful for all of these things. Incredibly grateful. It is impossible to have enough help though, when one spends every day in so much stress and discomfort. This isn’t meant to be a pity party, but just, be there for your pregnant friends and family. Be kind to them, you don’t know what they might be going through silently.

Maxima Culpa

I have been so frustrated about the existence of bad things lately. 
I saw a bird eating a roadkill squirrel the other day.
I was so angry I didn’t know whether to curse, or cry,
So I just yelled, the entire way to Church about how unfair it was.

I hate when people want to hurt other people.
I am starting to realize that some of the people I know 
Are not afraid to hurt others, I can’t understand that.
I spent my entire life trying to make everyone else happy. 

I hate that people are so selfish.
Why would someone insist on watching whatever they want
Every single night, football consumes how many hours a week?
I just want to spend time doing something everyone likes.

I’m not even asking you to watch something you don’t like,
Just something that not only you like, Four days a week,
All about you, no one else matters,
Even when your daughter just wants to be together.

I hate that I am vain and pretentious and maybe a little proud
And then suddenly I am a seductress
Sensual to a point that no one decent could ever understand,
Could i ever be worthy of love?

I hate the fact that I can’t think straight,
And all these things are really just part of the circle of life,
They are the things we learn to get along with or without
But tonight, they are not ok.

On the Road to Austin Pt 1

“They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

There’s a sudden strange magic that happens when one is enveloped in living, and technology is suddenly an empty threat at the end of a corridor. Living on my way to Austin and back was that miracle, and this blog was forgotten in the grandeur of what life could be, the unimaginably expansive hope. I felt the touch of others so fully alive that their very breath upon my set me to breathing, their very closeness brought me to the orgasmic future without the head stocks of time. For a moment in time, I was real.

It began with a petty road trip wrought with the nerves of one who just wanted to be alive again, and one who was haunted by what lay in wait at the end of the days. Two set off in the lust of a God-given bond that surpassed the gloom of how much weight rested upon them. Reminiscing times before their own lives, with Marilyn Monroe on their eyes and Thelma and Louise on their hearts, the fights were bearable because the road was unfolding and would become so much more.

It took two days to get to Austin. A stop in Dallas on the way provided solace for the one who had been there before, but continued the high-wrought nerves in its lack of kindness to their bagged eyes. Loping to the car one last time, the two made it-I in a half dream state. The entry itself was naught but another city like so many, but what would reveal so much more was the life inside. 

Appearing before me was a vision of two I had only seen in the dreams given to me by the constant bombardment in other worlds. They were like pixies, living the fullness of life, caught in the illustrious being of the now. Even their names departed from a world I had never known. Juliet and Bjorn showed us into a house that Monroe must have lived in, if not Hepburn herself. 

We spent days within those walls, languid in the moments of being alive in a dream. Breathing the solid air scented with God’s presence mixed with all the dreams that one could have, like living and God could coexist without crushing each other out of existence. In those moments, we were alive, but I was not yet breathing, just gasping for air out of the life support of friends I held dear. 

“I bless thee, …

“I bless thee, O Father of Heaven and Earth, that ever I saw Flaxman’s face.
Angels stand round my Spirit in Heaven, the blessed of Heaven are my friends upon earth.
When Flaxman was taken to Italy, Fuseli was given to me for a season,
And now Flaxman has given me Hayley his friend to be mine, such my lot upon Earth.
Now my lot in the Heavens is this, Milton lov’d me in childhood& showed me his face.
Ezra came with Isaiah the Prophet, but Shakespeare in riper years gave me hid hand;
Paraclesus & Behmen appear’d to me, terrors appear’d in the Heavens above.
And in Hell beneath & a mighty & awful change theatened the earth.
The American War behan. All its dark horrors passed before my face
Across the Atlantic to France. THen the French Revolution commenc’d in think clouds.
And my Angels have told me that seeing such visions I could not subsist on the Earth.
But by my conjunction with Flaxman, who knows how to forgive Nervous Fear.

This is a quote from William Blake’s 12 September 1800 letter to John Flaxman that I found in The Letters of William Blake, edited by Geoffrey Keynes. ❤

A Pair of Running Shoes

Lying ill in the night, I came to screen,
To see where you had been in time gone by.
Was healing dripping past your hearts blood seen?
Or were tears coming to your eyes hid in lie.

Instead I found a Man i’d found before,
Lullaying me to sleep with new questing.
Is this agony that your future stores?
Or will you die to self and learn to sing?

I didn’t know, when I left what you write,
I don’t know now while I sit and wait,
Was there prophecy in your burdened sight,
Or will we find hope in what we can say?

I may leave all and join you here in test,
Will you join me on a new life, loves quest?

A Night’s Crux

 

I came to you one night and could not breathe.
I tried to rise from darkness all around,
But in each step I felt a leaden scythe
Baring my heart down into the ground.

I begged you for your saving life to give
But heard no answer to what I had forced
And I knew with each breath I would not live
Until your river brought me to life’s course.

So I laid my heart down at your scarred feet
Left my wound open and to day faded
When I heard the ocean in a new seat,
The tide come in, here is God awaited.

I came to your altar and prayed for you
Begged you for mercy, your merciful love.
Their touch took up my hand and I breathed soon
“My life to their hands, our hope is in you.”

You left us your Church, each being in touch now
I breathe my cross to them, to your people.
For you give us each to each other, I know
We’re with each other-help we find in this veil.

I gave my life wounds to their prayers then
And when it was time we all looked around
You came to me in an embrace from him
And then gave me that peace that surrounds.

In that very moment I descended
From a web of spiritual deceit
To the deep net of holy comradeship
Formed by the kiss of time ending’s peace.

As I lay barely breathing in your Church
He came to me with your own arms.
He did not state to me my own self-worth
But he brought me first aid, to know your charms.

In you I recognized his loving face
For all the virtue love came possessed
And the inspiration he heard in your place
He came to obey and not wait to rest.

Peace he conveyed in tear opening gate
And peace came true in the blood running sea
When I came to the Lord now before, wait,
I came to him wounded, healing to plea.

He cotarized wounds to burning sensed
And singed til the edges were crisp and dry
But before night solemnity ended
Each had given renewed will to try.

I thank you, my Lord, for their in-You-peace
That bathed me in the gold eternal crown
I rest in that hint of th’eternal feast
And tread anew on this hard and cold ground.

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