It’s 1:30 in the afternoon, and I am still in my pajamas. Not the slinky black negligee with the peek-a boo bra cups, that you all imagine I walk around in all day. At least, I hope you do {wink}. I’m styling the fleece blue ones with monkeys and snow flakes on the pant legs. I’m very grateful to have this career, where I have the luxury of doing that. I’m here, in my pajamas, because I can’t seem to do much else today.

When I was at healing school, Barbara Brennan used to always ask us, “Who’s the uninvited guest?” That party crasher is a feeling that you would rather not be having. Today, I’ve invited grief in to sit for a bit. In the old days, I would drink, or drug, or fuck or shop instead of feel less than comfortable feelings. Or I would meditate, vision board, and affirmation my way to better feeling thoughts. Today, I’m grateful that I have developed enough resources to feel my feelings, high and low.

Sexual Authenticity isn’t just about sharing your bed with whoever you want, however you want. It’s about having the awareness of who I am, and then using my voice to share that with the people I want to be close to. Intimacy = into me see. Great sex comes from the willingness to be vulnerable. Today, you are getting the real me. Future posts will get back to the business of DO dates, and floggers and sparking up your flagging hormones. Probably.

[bctt tweet=”Great sex comes from the willingness to be vulnerable.” username=”PleasureCoaches”]

Our culture is not all that accepting of grief. We have traded in funerals for “celebrations of life”, while simultaneously allowing the mourning period to go on forever on Facebook.

Why am I grieving? Why not? I believe in each of us dwells a deep well of sadness. For me today, it’s the things I have lost, the things I never accomplished. Things that happened to me in my childhood and also to millions of others (#metoo). The existential pain of being expelled from paradise, and the longing for a return to the Divine. Gratitude for love gifted and sadness for lives ended.. My father died two years ago this month. I walked away from alcohol, which at the time was my best friend, in November too,1990. I didn’t realize until just this minute that I broke up with someone I loved exactly five months ago today. But the circumstances or reasons don’t matter. What matters is the vivid reality of allowing the feelings to run raw, without blaming anything for them.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

PMS gives women an excuse to descend into the emotions of fear, sadness and anger. Or is it just that the feelings are always there, and hormones rip away the filters? Most men have not been so lucky. They have had to bottle the feelings up, lest they appear weak. Hell, what is weak about feeling sadness? It takes a lot of courage to walk through that muck! When I was younger, I would watch Little House on the Prairie or Touched by an Angel to jump start the crying games. Now I have discovered This is Us (if you are not watching this amazing example of authentic characterizations on NBC – start now!) Some serious eye candy here as well. See, I can still talk about sex, even when I’m sad!

When I need a hug from a friend, and a witness to my grief, I call a friend. Today, I’m chatting with you. And now, I’m going to get back on the couch with a cup of tea and a good book.

Who’s your uninvited guest? Will you offer them a beverage?