Many years ago a friend shared with me that one of the things she hated the most was when her husband crawled into bed at night, and cuddled up behind her. She told me that all she wanted him to do in those moments was to get that thing out of her back.
Of course, this was disclosed to me in a nonchalant, raucous manner, and in our uncomfortableness, we quickly chased down her confession with a burst of laughter, and a swallow of libations.
I tried, but could not imagine ever feeling that way. I just couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t want “that thing” pressing into your back, communicating it’s beckoning desire towards you? My ripe maiden body could not fathom this scenario. Nor could my maiden mind.
Primal energy was abundant in me. It was unharnessed. Wild. The juices were flowing, and fear hadn’t yet caged my playful, sensual expression. Although I had a limited understanding of my sexuality, I was honouring my carnal longings.
And then, somewhere along the transitional waters into motherhood, the communication lines – with this carefree, enthusiastic maiden version of me – were severed. My mother mind was now in control. There were no more carnal longings. No more hungry plunges. No more juices flowing.
My maiden was lost. My mother mind had finally unraveled the mystery that my maiden mind could not fathom. I no longer endorsed “that thing” in my back. And in conjunction with this lack of desire for sex, I fooled myself into thinking that it did not matter – except for the fact that it was affecting the state of my marital bliss – it really did not matter.
I could not have been more wrong. It wasn’t until many years into this new phase of sexual exploration that I realized this. This wasn’t about partner sex, and saving my marriage – this was about me, and saving myself.
My partner and I were making love more regularly, the potency of my orgasms had exponentially grown, I was building a relationship with my fertility organs, and my feminine essence was all aglow. However my overall mood swings continued to fluctuate, the joy of sexual union had no sustainability, and my actual desire for lovemaking was minimal, at best. This was perplexing to me. And then I discovered Betty.
It seems in my interpretation of sexuality I had somehow missed, overlooked, ignored a very significant portion of the equation. And Betty shone the light – a very bright light – onto this for me.
In one of the interviews, I watched, Betty Dodson expressed…“I want individuals, and I want the culture, all of society, to understand that masturbation is the foundation for all of human sexual activity. It is how we learn to like and touch our genitals. It is the beginning of a lifelong experience of having pleasure in our bodies. Don’t block that.”
DON’T BLOCK THAT!
So I took stock, and did a masturbation history inventory.
My inventory revealed to me that currently I partook in self-pleasuring only when the powerful sexual hunger of ovulation elicited me to do so. And this was only when my partner was out of town. If he was home when this wave hit, he was the lucky benefactor of my craving.
And when I went way back to the inception, of this exploration, with my body, and masturbation, there was a dark, dirty cloud of shame, and secrecy ensconcing me, and my genitals.
So I began an experiment.
I made a commitment to myself to not let more than three days lapse without giving myself an orgasm. I got myself an industrial size bottle of organic almond oil, dusted off the toys, and I got down to some pleasure.
It seemed rather strange, at first, to just take the time to give myself some lovin’, regardless of my level of arousal. And more times than not, I began, not being aroused at all. But because of my curiosity to track how this intimacy with myself affected my external world, I honoured my commitment. I took the time. Created the space. And it would seem to be that I was, in fact, courting my vulva.
The more I touched her, and looked at her – witnessed her, in her different states of receptiveness, and responsiveness – the more I realized that there were so many layers to this inquiry. Some layers that my rational mind just could not, or would not, ever understand.
I was definitely feeling better. More Joyful. More attracted to my beloved. More patient. More energetic. And after two days I became aware that these blissful, euphoric feelings began to wane substantially. Although I had read about the scientific, documented, effects of dopamine, opioids/endorphins and oxytocin (Naomi Wolf – Vagina… I highly recommend the read) that are released during orgasm, it wasn’t until I began tracking these bodily responses within myself, that I began to feel the solid connections. Masturbation is medicine. There is a direct connection between our vulvas’ and our brains’.
So now, rather than letting three days lapse between dates with myself, I ensure that no more than a two-day gap occurs between my self-pleasuring expeditions. In some ways, I am feeling like a sexual deviant – and in reality, that is what is happening – I am deviating from what our culture teaches us about the accepted norm, when it comes to women, sexuality, self-love, and masturbation.
It is never too late to build a foundation. And what the world needs now, is for us, women, to do just that, build a foundation – touch, and know, and like our genitals. How about we do more than just like our genitals – how about we absolutely love our vulvas.
There is power in pleasure…and there is no pleasure as potent as an orgasm. So, what do you say, how about it? Let’s collectively, tap into the internal power of self-sexuality, love our vulvas, and watch the magic happen.