My Identity Crisis

I try to be understanding with every person, and try to view posts from their point of view if they get upset. I'm glad you're so outspoken and so open with your autism. You are lighting the way for more understanding, and leading the way for an open dialogue. That's awesome, my friend.

As for the kiddo, he had another seizure last week at the YMCA while swimming. I'm heartbroken, the doctors don't know why he's getting seizures. Fingers crossed all is worked out soon.

His eyes...

she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach.

Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around.

She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes.

A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; “mom.”

His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.

butterflyinthewell, hello friend, I hope you get this. This is my 3rd attempt trying to post this, but every time I’m almost done writing, my screen goes blank and my whole text disappears. I want to say that I hope I didn’t offend you, and I had no intention to offend anyone. This poem when I wrote this was about the autistic boy I’ve been working with (I’m an ABA therapist and Respite care worker) who recently had a seizure (his first one) out of the blue, and I watched as his mom stared at him with such love while they were eating that it very much warmed my heart, that the image has been sticking with me for weeks, and I had to write it down.

When I wrote that his mind was in bondage and in chains, I wanted to include my own experiences teaching different autistic children on the spectrum how frustrated they get usually because if they’re completely non verbal, it must feel infuriating to them because all the words they want to say could be on the tip of their tongue, but unable to fully go over the edge to form words, but the love AND freedom is in the way they express themselves, in like you said, “flapping of the hands, laughing, spinning or jumping,” as a form of communication. And again, I hope I didn’t offend, it was not my intention. My experience with this boy has been amazing, and I know that I’m on his mind, because once when I went away for a month on vacation, and came back, he did stare at me, and sat on my lap, and I knew that I was loved and trusted. I still smile at that memory, because I love him and his whole family.

I guess, now that I think about it, it’s not much of a prison if you have loved ones around to keep you grounded, and those willing to help you out to the best of their ability, and to know that you have a whole community backing you up. Thank you, friend, for calling me out so that I can experience other peoples experiences. Again, I hope I didn’t offend you too much, it was not my intention to upset you. But this was a great learning experience in how people deal with obstacles in their lives. Thank you for also sharing part of your story.

His eyes...

she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach.

Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around.

She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes.

A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; “mom.”

His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.

Describing an orgasm...

Sometimes it’s hard to describe things.  It’s hard to pinpoint an exact moment.  It’s difficult to articulate your myriad of emotions.  It’s impossible to tell someone how it feels to die a little.  Whenever my husband asks me to describe my orgasm (he asks me every few months or so), I hit this dilemma.  I don’t know what to say, other than that it feels good.

Hopefully by writing it down, I can better comprehend what my orgasm feels like.  Here are the intimate details, enjoy:

Usually for me to orgasm, my husband performs oral sex on me.  He likes to call it, “licking.”  Sometimes one of us will turn to the other and say, “wanna lick?”

Before he starts licking, he likes to put mints in his mouth (Shout out to Starbucks mints), usually about 8, or more, and to the point where the coldness and mint flavor/smell permeates the room. I open my legs to him, and he likes to blow on my clit, and I squirm and giggle/groan a little because the minty freshness makes my clit cold, and I become wet waiting in anticipation.

Side Note: Sometimes he’ll rattle the case of mints, and I become wet like Pavlov’s dog drooling when he hears the sound of a bell waiting for a treat.  It’s especially embarrassing when he does it in public, and I have to cross my legs.  Mostly he does it by accident, but still, I’ve been conditioned, so to speak.

I lie back as he starts licking with his minty fresh breath.  Depending on how hydrated I am, is determined on how fast I orgasm.  If I’m well hydrated, I can come in about 20+ minutes, if not, it takes about 35-40 minutes, but my husband won’t stop until I come.

I start feeling shortness of breath about 5 minutes in. In the 20-40 minute span of him licking me, I have multiple mini orgasms, but that’s not what we’re here for.  We’re here for the grand finale of orgasms. Sometimes before I have a mini orgasm, he’ll stop licking and say, “Nope, not yet,” and I groan, and push his head back down as he chuckles.

As my body reaches towards the finale, I’m pretty much exhausted. I’m all sweaty, and my toes ache. But I know, and he knows, that we’re not done yet. 5 minutes before the finale, things happen to my body.

My body begins to feel like fire. It begins to hurt, it begins to shake, it begins to beg for a certain release. My back begins to arch, aching. My fingers begin to grasp the side of the bed, trying to hold on to something solid, but they usually ending up cupping a breast, and one wrapped around my neck, feeling the strain of it. My knees begin to cramp from the position its in.  My clit becomes so sensitive, I want him to stop licking, and keep licking forever. 

When I feel my clit become more sensitive, I’ll whisper out, “softer,” and he’ll gently poke at my clit, and when I say, “more, harder,” he’ll lick faster and rub his stubbly chin into my clit, and here is where it all changes.

My eyes will open, and all I can see is a kaleidoscope of color, I see fire, I see heaven and hell, I see my past and future. I stop breathing. I feel my stomach tighten up, and back straighten out, and my head fall back, and my fists balled up. And right when I feel like I’m about to die, I feel this different kind of heat in my clit, and I feel a pressure, a pressure like I have to pee, and I know, that this is it, the feeling of having to urinate is the big indicator for me that my orgasm will be a big one.

I start to convulse, I make a noise that both embarrasses me and excites me, a noise that I could never replicate in a normal setting, I grab at my chest, I grab his head, both pulling away and pushing him closer, and I weep.  I weep for the feeling that this euphoric feeling of death and life could be taken from me at any moment.  In about 2 minutes, my orgasm is over, and as I push him away, weakly saying, “please stop,” over an over, he’ll finally get up, and go to the bathroom to clean his face. While he’s in the bathroom, I’ll say over and over, “I’m dying, I’m dying, oh my God, I’m dying,” as I get orgasm aftershocks that wrack my body, as I lay in a fetal position, trying to catch my breath between each orgasm.

My husband will climb into bed, cuddle me and say, “you’re ok, you’re here, you’re fine,” as I come down from whatever cliff I was balancing on.

Then we’ll lay there for a while, chatting, caressing each other, and we’ll kiss, and then he’ll ask me, “are you ready, are you ok?” And I’ll say I’m fine, and we’ll begin to make love.

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the anatomy of my orgasm. I hope I haven’t bored you. Now, go forth and have many orgasms.  Maybe if you want, describe your orgasms in the comment section below. Lets compare notes.

Tonight I surrender...

To the darker part of me. To let go of the purity of a gentle heart. To withdraw from the notion of others first before my own needs. To not be afraid of wanting to want. Tonight I surrender.

Yummy in my tummy.

New York City, 1975

A heady mixture

of a new kind of pleasure. It’s mixed with pain and sustained joy.

For when she drew her last breath, giving up her soul, too tired to run anymore, he was there, taking her away, forever his, mind, body, and soul. He had made her.

Just because you have it, doesn’t mean you have to spend it.

Sex to feel better.

I was very upset the whole day today. Just very out of my body, and I felt like I was too much in myself, and I could feel the blackness near my heart about to engulf me in depression.

Tonight, my husband was very concerned. He said that I wasn’t myself, and he missed me. He asked me how he could help me.

I said, “can we make love?” He smiled and led me upstairs. And for 30 minutes he brought me back to myself, and all the stress, anger, guilt, pity, hate, and at last, all there was left after I was brought back down to the world was a weight lifting off my shoulders, and such love for him. I even told him.

Me: I love you.

Him: I love you too.

Me: No, I mean, I really love you. I’m in love with you.

I wanted him to know, that this was the love I felt for him. I put all that feeling I had for him in my declaration, and I felt desperate in this moment. His one response that melted me, no matter how small was, “I know,” as he hugged me from behind and kissed my shoulder.

He made me feel whole again, he relieved my stress, he took my mind off my anger, and he put my depression back at bay.

Him: Did we have sex just to have sex, or to make yourself feel better?

Me: Yes.

Laughter ensues.

I’m so happy I want to share it with the world.