Sexuality Happens

Holy Guacamole has life been crazy lately!

My partner Q and I moved back to Colorado, a few months earlier than originally planned due to Q’s new job, and it is fucking fantabulous…at least the six days I was able to spend there before I headed out of Providence, RI to speak at the Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health (on Ethical Pornography), and now at Brown University (On Body Positivity and Autonomy as Sexual Freedom and then with Megan Andelloux on Being a Sex Educator in the Real World). I’m then back in Denver for about 48 hours, if that, before I head out to Portland to teach at KinkFest (Safer Sex for Kinksters, Poly and Kink, and Communication in a Kink Context). Then thank the mooses, I’m back for about 10 days before heading to Washington, DC to speak at Momentum (on Intersections of Identities and on 3 panels about ethics and blogging, feminism in the adult industry and public vs privacy in blogging) and Sugar (Sex positions for EVERYONE!). Phew.  Then it’s back to AZ twice in April for a class and Phoenix Pride, and then to San Diego for AASECT. Finally, I get to chill a bit in May, really get to re-settle into Colorado, work a little more on planning the wedding, etc.

In the midst of all this, I also had to help my mother put down our family cat of eleven years, the wonderful and caring Anastasia, who was a rescue cat from a dementia patient who was abusing her back in 2000. It was incredibly tough, especially with all of the emotions running high still from the move, some of the body pain I’m dealing with, and then traipsing across the country…

Anyways, I’ll try to be better about putting more posts up here, and you can also check out thoughts, Q and A, upcoming workshops and more on ShannaKatz.com.

-Essin’ Em

Now that Valentine’s Day has come and gone, and that I’m back in the scheme of things (which includes planning for our wedding/celebration of love this October), I have to say that I’m sick and tired of the Love Industry.

What, pray tell, is the Love Industry? It is the capitalism in our society has found that by making people (particularly women, but people in general) feel back about not being in a relationship, not being in a “serious enough” relationship, not having the “perfect wedding” etc, that they will then rush out to spend tons and tons of money on ridiculous things. The worse you make people feel about their relationships (or lack thereof) with others, the more money they will spend.

Look at Valentine’s Day — people spend so much time and energy trying to make sure they have a partner on Valentine’s Day, and then once/if they do, they spend all this money trying to impress their partner and “show their love” by buying outrageous gifts that may or may not even suit their partners tastes. Clearly, every woman in existence wants a diamond necklace, right? I sure as heck don’t.  And then, when people say things like “I don’t think Valentine’s Day is important — I think love should happen year round,” they’re then told that they are just being jealous, petty, wishing they had a partner (or a partner that did better things for them, bought more expensive things, etc) and so on.  And of course, I work in the industry that hops onto this bandwagon — Valentine’s Day is one of our biggest seasons (but at least a vibrator lasts a lot longer than a bouquet of flowers, and can be used together).

This year, I picked up some pre-made food from Whole Foods and we ate it, cause I wasn’t in the mood to cook. Then we watched TV we’d missed, and worked on our duo-presentation for the National Collegiate Leadership Conference. Oh, and drove to the post office to drop off our application for a residence in Denver. Why? Because it was a Monday, and that is what needed to happen that Monday. My best friend and her husband went to Qudoba for dinner, and he wound up buying her a 6-pack of blueberry beer. It had nothing to do with money — they just decided that THAT was what they wanted to do. And that is how it should be.

Don’t even get me started on the wedding industry. Other than the fact that they are totally not queer inclusive (which they need to work on, given all the states passing same-sex marriage and civil unions), but honestly, this industry is vile at times. I keep getting sent wedding magazines, bride magazines, nesting magazines, where the “budget” dresses are one thousand to three thousand bucks. A “budget wedding” apparently comes in between twenty and thirty thousand. a BUDGET WEDDING means keeping it under a grand in my mind. We’re capping ours at $5000, and that includes outfits, locations, food, flowers, DJ, cupcakes, pumpkins for decorating, etc. We’re doing a cheap wedding of sorts, the way we like it (whether or not a burgundy ball dress is traditional, whether or not a DJ with a Rainbow Mohawk is appropriate, etc). But clearly, so many people buy into this fantasy that they are selling, this concept that with out an expensive white dress and prince to sweep you away, that we are nothing. Why? What is it that says this is “right” thing, other than the companies trying to sell it to us in the first place?

One of the most hurtful things F told me when we were together was that I was “always in my head, and never in my heart.” She’d follow this with ending a conversation, having sex with someone else against the rules of our relationship, or a torrent of judgemental things about me. That was her way of telling me I wasn’t emotional enough, that I didn’t feel. In her mind, feeling was superior to thoughts and logic, and because I was a planner, and wanted to talk out our issues instead of fighting about them, or worse yet (to me), ignoring them, I wasn’t good at relationships, that I wasn’t emotional enough, that I had no feelings.

I know now that this is bullshit. It’s true, for a long time after my father died, I did hide my feelings. I wrote a few years back about how I couldn’t cry, how it was only through a totally irrevelant conversation with K that I was able to finally break down and cry. I was so scared that if I showed myself crying, I’d be seen as weak, or worse yet, that I wouldn’t be able to stop crying, that everything I’d built up in my life, all my independence and stability woudl come tumbling down with my tears, and that I’d be back at step one.

However, I was beyond that point when I met F. I was an emotional person. I felt. I hurt. She hurt me. I felt hurt by hurt. And because I also have anxiety and a little OCD, which makes me a little more logical at times, she told me that I had no emotions, that I didn’t feel, that I didn’t have a right to ask for my needs to be met in our relationship because I wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth having a relationship.

Now, if you asked Q if she thought I was more in my heart or in my head, more emotional or more logical, I have no doubt the answer would be the former of each of those choices. True, we joke about me being tender and delicate, but at times, it is true. From losing my father to losing multiple close friends throughout my life (some through death, some through their choice), I have a lot of fear and hurt inside me. Sometimes, so much that I don’t even believe I’m worth it, that I don’t believe I deserve to have someone as wonderful as Q in my life. Every now and then, something triggers me, and I burst into tears, convinced that this is the point where Q figures out that I’m a fraud, that I’m nothing, that I’m not worth it.

As I think back on my relationship with F, and how much she did that lead to me questioning myself, to feeling as though I wasn’t able to be part of a long term relationship, to believing that I wasn’t enough for anyone, I realize that perhaps she was looking inside at herself and expressing the worries that she had about her onto me. Doesn’t mean I feel any less fucked up, but I can only hope she didn’t do it out of malice, and that she just never allowed herself to see my tender side, my emotional side.

And more important, I thank my lucky stars every damn day that I met someone like Q, who gets me, who not only thinks I’m worth it, and thinks I’m more than enough, but is working on helping me to believe it too. Someone who will lie in bed holding me until the tears dry up, who will tell me again and again that she wants to be with me, and who will make me laugh by creating shadow puppets to pull Kinsey’s tail. I’m worth it, and she knows it. And she knows that I’m just as emotional as I am a planner, and that one does not exclude the other. How lucky am I?

-Essin’ Em

I just got back from Las Vegas on Sunday night, very late. I’d been gone for five very long days.

When I got home, Q had left that morning. Because she’s awesome, she’s facilitating this amazing social justice leadership retreat up in Prescott all week, and won’t be back until Saturday night. The apartment felt so empty without her, the cats all crowding around me for attention that they hadn’t gotten all day, demanding pets and love. All I wanted was to curl up in bed with her arms around me, having been apart almost a week already.

I travel a fair amount, but with my disability and relationship, I try to keep it down to less than a week a month. When it’s longer, I try to come home in the middle for at least a night so that we can regroup and reconnect. This almost two week period is the longest amount of time that we haven’t slept together in almost a year and a half, and shockingly to me, it’s harder than I thought. I was such an independent person for so long, rarely spending the night or letting others spend the night, that it seems odd to me that just a few days apart from my partner makes me feel weird and lonely. But if I’m honest with myself, which I try to be, it does. It bothers me. I feel lonely in bed without her pressed up against me, or her heavy breathing in my ear.

I never expected to be in a mostly monogamous, long term relationship. When I pictured my future, it was never a part of it. Now, I’m incredibly happy to be in one now, with such an amazing person, but it certainly goes to show how much you never know, and how different the future may be than what you expect it to be.

7 Days down and 4.5 more to go until I have someone to hug and cuddle with, someone else to cook for, someone to laugh at my jokes and swat my butt while I’m cooking. I never thought I would miss that, because I never had it to begin with…but now that Q is such a huge part of my life, the space that is there when she is gone is so much more noticable than I ever would have thought.

-Essin’ Em

It’s that time of year again, where I’m heading to Las Vegas for the AEE/ANE shows and the AVN awards (think “Oscars of Porn”).

This year, it’s a little tough. I’m heading to Vegas today through Sunday afternoon. Q heads up to this awesome social justice-y leadership program she’s helping to facilitate on Sunday morning…and will be gone for a full week. Then once Q gets back, we have a week together before I’m off to do classes and house hunting in Denver, and then I get back the day before Q heads to Minneapolis for Creating Change.  Usually I’m so good about planning my travel, and keeping it to less than a week per month, but these four weeks, both of us are travelling twice. I mean, I guess it is kind of good that we alternate, so that we don’t have to find a cat sitter…but on the other hand, that’s the most time apart that we’ve spent in a while, which is tough.

But here’s to Vegas, queer porn stars, sex educators, new sex toys, sex positive people, networking, seeing old friends, making new ones, and having a great time!

-Essin’ Em

I’m not particularly big on New Year’s Resolutions, given the likelihood that they’ll be broken some way, some how, in the very near future. I mean, really, how many people ‘fulfill’ their resolutions?

Q has decided to eat predominantly vegetarian/pescitarian. Which is awesome. Our house is pretty much vegetarian anyways (aside from the occasionaly sliced turkey for Q’s sandwiches), but this means it will be 100% veggie, and that we’re going to both be vegetarian, at least for a bit while Q tries this out. As someone who has been vegetarian for 19 years, it’ll be nice having a mostly veg partner. I’ve never ever been the preachy type — I’ve only ever dated one other vegetarian. I don’t judge, and I don’t tell people what they shouldn’t eat (especially as long as they don’t tell me what I SHOULD eat), but it’s nice having someone on the same page as me.

I’m thinking that next week, when I get back from the AEE/ANE/AVNs in Vegas, I’m going to try a raw diet for a week while Q is off teaching at a social justice leadership program. My old migraine meds (which I’ve finally titrated off of) helped me to gain 30+ pounds over the past year. Now that I’m off of them, I’m hoping a week of raw food might jumpstart my body into starting to lose some of those…and if not, at least it’s a very healthyl, vitamin filled week. Plus, we just bought a living social deal for 20 sessions of Hot Yoga each. I’m a little nervous, as I’ve dislocated my knees doing yoga before, but there are so few types of exercise I can do without massive pain that I’m figuring anything is worth a try right now.

My goals (NOT resolutions) for 2011:

*Book more lectures/workshops/classes at Colleges/Universities and Kink specific events (if you’re interested in having me, check out ShannaKatz.com for more info!)

*Finish at least one of the 4 books I’m currently working on and get it ready for publication

*Get more sex coaching/relationship counseling clients, both face to face and via skype.

*Move back to Colorado with Q and our kitties

*Help my mother get her house packed and ready for sale in 2012

*Have a fabulous queer celebration of love/wedding to the love of my life in October without going into any debt

*Make enough money to finally pay off medical 2008 and 2009 medical bills, so I can finally work towards paying my student loans

*Get an Njoy Eleven. No, seriously. It’s a goal. And heck, I really want a Spareparts La Palma harness too.

*Once back in CO, join a gym with both recumbant bikes and a pool so I can work on getting more cardio in. If I lose a little weight to where I was, I know my knees will feel better.

They are goals of sorts, but much more year-long and less number specific. I find that when I set goals like “lose 10 lbs by _____” or “make _____ money” or “get in touch with ________ friends,” I am less likely to follow through than when they are life changes.

Best of luck to everyone in the new year!

Essin’ Em

I’ve never wanted children. Never. I never thought about how I’d dress them, how many I wanted, who I wanted to have them with, whether I’d give birth or adopt, where they should go to college. Never. Now, I did pick up names I really liked, and said “oh, I’d totally name my child this one day” and then quickly went on to name a cat Ava, a beta fish Trisana, a Russian Dwarf Hamster Niamara, a hedgehog Ambrose, etc. Pets and stuffed animals fulfilled my need to name things unique and creative names with easy nicknames.

However, as much as I’ve always know I didn’t want kids, I’ve known I wanted cats. There was 9 months in my life with no cats, between our house burning down in May of 1999 (killing our two kitties), and moving in to the rebuilt house and adopting Phoenix and then Anastasia in spring of 2000. Even when I lived in Germany, my host family had two cats. As soon as I got my own apartment my senior year of undergrad, I adopted Kinsey. Cats to me are my children. I treat my kitties as members of the family, and when they depart, like Athena dying December 2008, my heart breaks for them (and I sat Shiva).

My cats are a part of my family, and when I was freely dating, they were a good measuring tool. If someone didn’t like cats, they were out. Now, if they were ambivelent, all they had to do was meet Kinsey, and usually their mind changed. If they met my cat or cats (depending on when), and the cats didn’t like them? Done. My cats like most people, and so I took them not liking someone as a sign of things to come. It only happened twice, but I found out later on that it was a very good sign to stay away.

And then I met Q. Q had a cat already (Jasper), and was more co-dependent with him than I was with Kinsey. Moreover, when I adopted Kali and had the whole traumatic experience of her in the ER for 3 days, Q let me call, text and rant, even though we were all of just a few months (if that) into dating. Q didn’t mind that the cats were allowed everywhere except the counter and the kitchen table, and embraced both cat hair and Kaili claiming Q as her own. When Q would go back to New York to visit, I’d come take care of Jasper, staying over to watch a movie with him, or reading out loud. When I was gone, Q would text me pictures of Kinsey and Kali missing me.

This sounds silly, yes, but I realized that the perfect kitty parent was a non-negotiable for me. And the other night, as I watched Q carefully scoop a certain amount of dry food into a dish, and then add the right amount of wet food, with a little extra water, and mash it all around to make it as appetizing to them as possible (they’re on a new UTI prevention diet), and then soak a cranberry pill, and gently give it to Jasper and stroke his throat until he swallowed…I realized that Q fit the mold. Q was the perfect kitty daddy (we like to play with gender, obviously) to me, the kitty mommy. Between the two of us, the cats always have someone to lie on, someone to pet them, someone to dangle a toy in front of them. We sit together, making up stories about what each cat is saying when they meow, about how they feel about leopard print, about Kali’s royal throne, about Jasper’s queen-y walk, about Kinsey’s rubber and latex fetish. We curl up in our bed, two of us and three very spoiled cats, and it just feels right.

Q is my kitty daddy, and is a better fit for me and our family of fur kids than I ever could have imagined.

-Essin’ Em

Today marks the 2nd full year that Q and I have been together (it also is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers — I can’t think of anything more appropriate for two sex-positive and social justice oriented people).

For a long time, I thought I was going to be alone forever. I viewed myself as unloveable, as broken, as not worthy of love. I didn’t think anyone would find me “worth” dealing with, putting up with my insecurities, my disabilities, my career, my snarkiness, my messiness, my anthropormorphisizing of my cats.

And then, I met Q. At a strap on class that I was teaching even. Well, this way I knew that for the most part, sex ed wasn’t going to be an issue. Q is incredibly caring about social justice, about equality (or the lack there of), actually cares about politics and truly works towards creating change in this world. On top of that, Q is witty, hilarious, fun to be around, incredibly smart, and laughs at my ridiculous jokes…and Q is more co-dependent with Jasper (the Maine Coon) than I have ever been with my cats. Although I don’t believe in the concepts of perfect matches (because you have to work on making them work), I can’t imagine finding anyone more perfect for me than Q. I wonder sometimes if I even deserve such happiness. Q says I do.

There are few things more wonderful than waking up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, and having loving arms around you, or getting a “hello beautiful” text message in the morning, or an “I love you” sign on the holiday shrubbery, and knowing that the love is actually meant, and isn’t just some trite or cliche message. Few things more reassuring than your partner bringing you ice packs and pain killers when you can’t walk, or calling to see how your neurologist appointment went.

I am not perfect. I am a hard pill to swallow at times. It is hard to love me, and sometimes harder to be with me. I know all of this. And yet, I am lucky enough to have found someone as wonderful and driven and loving as Q, who takes me how I am.

Next October, we’re having our “Queer Celebration of Love” — AKA, the wedding. I’ll have to write about my views on marriage at some point, but the wedding is our celebration for our friends and family, a showing off of our love, a rejoycing in our connection.

Sadly, Q is still in New York for today’s anniversary, but Q’s family is important, and I understand that. Instead, this Saturday I’m making a special dinner for us, and for Christmas, we’re driving to a relaxing resort outside of Vegas to take advantage of their special pricing, and cooked food, and will celebrate there. I love being together, experiencing things together, trying new things together.

So happy anniversary stud muffin. I can’t imagine being happier with anyone else ever, anywhere, any time. Thank you for letting me love you and trust you,

Babycakes.

Ever since we took our trip to Sedona this August, I’ve been interested in trying energy work.

Now, if you know me, you know that while I’ve certainly tried non-Western medicine (accupuncture, reflexology, cranial sacral therapy, etc), I’m not much for what my friends often call “the woo-woo” stuff. I like my toilets to flush, I (while vegetarian) am not gluten free, and I shamefully will never use blood rags or pee clothes. Yes, I’ve made my own clothing, and tried raw food for meals, and like quinoa and loose leaf tea, but I’ve never been associated with the more spiritual side of things.

More so, when I dated F, she made me even less likely to want to experiement in this venue. Whenever we fought (often), she’d pull out crap like “clearly, you can only love with your head, not with your heart” and “I’m out of tune — you’re throwing me out of balance” instead of actually having a conversation about what the problem(s) was/were, and how we could work on improving our relationship.  She told me to stop taking migraine meds and just do Magnesium (that fucked shit up), that I didn’t need pain killers or surgery because clearly Arnica would solve all my knee problems, and that when sick, oil of oregano would fix me (it didn’t — I felt HORRIBLE for 2 weeks). Given all of that, and how she also rationalized doing ‘Shrooms because they were all natural and it was connecting to mother earth, you can see how I might have wanted to gain some distance from this perspective.

However, since Sedona, I’ve decided that it is very closed minded of me not to be willing to try and accept new experiences, and on the way back, Q and I talked about how I’d like to try Reiki to see if it could help with some of my joint pain and/or migraines. Well, what do you know, but the Weekly Plus coupon a week or two later was for an energy balancing with a reiki master (more energy centric than reiki, but still the general theme).

Finally, I was able to schedule my appointment this past Saturday.  I went in, no idea what to expect. The center where this took placed also offers massage, reiki, waxing, electralysis and chiropractic services…so I had no idea what to make of it. My “guide” or “healer” (what is the right terminology here?) was very nice.  However, when we sat down, having just met, and she told me she had made a list of her observations about my energy before having met me, my eyebrows raised.

Now, much of the list was accurate. A few things weren’t. I was trying to keep an open mind, but a) saying stuff like “you have a love-hate relationship in your life — what is that about” can apply to pretty much anyone at any given time. Some things were more specific, like my bad relationship with my mother, or the piece of my heart that is empty due to the loss of my father. I just had a hard time not questioning all of this…and a little voice in the back of my head kept nagging me that all she’d have to do was google my name, and she could have found out pretty much all of this.

That said, we talked about my chakras (root and the top were fine, my sacral was off to the left in the feminine, my solar plexus was depleted, torn and stealing people’s energy, my heart one was open but felt cold, my throat one was torn and hurting and empty, and my third eye chakra had a tight band around it, possibly causing my migraines), and then I hopped on the table, trying to clear my mind and listen to the music while she touched some of my joints and some of my chakras, letting her angels guide her as to where to place the energy.

So here’s the thing. I’m still not sure how I felt about this. She said I took and held the energy well, better than most first timers. I did feel more relaxed, but my overall anxiety hasn’t change, my pain and migraines are still here, and I have a new very sore pain in my upper shoulders, despite the tons of water I drank and the Epsom salt bath I attempted to take (as per her request). I’ve tried to touch my solar plexus when I feel needy and tell myself I’m really ok, and tell Q that I’m ok just letting something go, or moving it until tomorrow.

So did it do anything? Or did it just increase some of my self awareness, as a counseling session might? Did she truly read my energy, or was it what is commonly known as a “cold read” or the result of a google session?

I honestly don’t know any of these answers. She gave me a returning deal of 50% off another session, and I might give it a try. I can’t afford therapy right now, nor do I have the trust in my doctor to work with me on finding an anti-anxiety medication…and I either need to figure out some form of relaxation or release soon, because something has got to give. I am too stressed and too emotional not to make changes in my life.

I’d love to hear about other peoples’ experiences with energy work, to see how they felt, reacted, changed, etc,…or not. I am doing my best to keep a very open mind, and would love to hear from you.

-Essin’ Em

This is day 16 in my “30 Days of Letters” endeavor. It is supposed to be written to someone from my childhood. Interestingly enough, I had a dream the other night about my elementary/middle school art teacher. My school was lucky enough to have an amazing art department with real chalk pastels, spinning wheels for ceramics, frame stretching for oil paintings, etc. I write this to her.

Michelle-

I’m not sure you know how much of an impact you had on my life. In fact, I’m sure you have no idea.

From the time I was 5 to 13, art didn’t mean cheap water colors gotten from the dollar store, it meant figure drawings in charcol, pieces created out of clay, paintings that still hang on the walls in my mothers house. It didn’t matter if I was any good at it; you were always so supportive, none the less. You had ideas to teach, techniques to show…and even though sometimes we were loud and obnoxious and ridiculous like children are wont to be, you had a smile on your face.

I connected with you more than with any of the other teachers I had. I still have the beautiful picture of a horse you created for me for my Bat Mitzvah. That’s right; I’ve carted it around with me for over 12 years, not only because it is beautiful, but because I like having that reminder of you in my life.

Art was my outlet, especially clay. Whenever I felt sad or lonely or frustrated or depressed, there was something amazing about smashing clay against the table, pounding it over and over again, only to then create something I saw as beautiful out of nothing. Talk about an amazing life lesson.

I’ve been inspired to start up with the creativity again. I honestly haven’t done anything artsy since I left that school, save designing some costumes for plays and doing theate make up. No painting, no drawing, no clay. I miss it. I still remember the first water color I did for you, when I learned that real water colors come in tubes, and that you can use salt as a technique, and how we put random items in a normal scene — I did fast food french fries in a park. I loved that picture, and kept it till our house burned down. Because of it, and my memories, and your inspiration, I want to start up art again.

Thank you for creating such a wonderful safe haven for a kid, and then for a teenager. You have no idea how much you’ve given me, and I hope you know I appreciate it.

-Essin’ Em