Author Archive for mariko passion

23
Jun
16

From Whore Revolutionary to Tantra goddess: Sacred Whore Evolution

4 years is a long time. I hope you have changed and evolved in 4 years too. Looking back on this blog I clearly can define chapters of my life. As i blog from Osaka, Japan tonight overlooking the Dottonburi River reflecting the bright lights of the touristy strip from the water, I have now finally realized a life long dream to live and work in Japan. Its been a month since I left LA and the U.S. It was a whirlwind of a birthday for me. Turning 40 was something I wanted to remember as the biggest “round number” ritual to date. I flew from LA to work in Seattle to visit the glacier in Juneau, Alaska to stopover in downtown Vancouver to finally Tokyo, a part of Japan I’d never been. I picked Seattle as a good place to make money for my trip and my intuition served me well. I was able to get solid clients who helped me bring in enough money to get through the next leg of my journey before Id be able to settle into Tokyo and begin my adventure in Japan: a country Id always wanted to return to since I last lived there for a summer with a beloved Aunt when I was 12. My faithful sex work funded vehicle named Sasha Gray (a Gray Scion named after Sasha Gray who played a GFE escort in the film Girlfriend Experience) had racked up 205k miles and had a dead transmission, some engine damage and a bunch of body repairs that I wasnt going to invest in over the vital mechanics needed. I sold her for a mere $1000 and aptly used that money to commit myself to my big move to Japan. I didnt know how I was going to get the rest of the money for my trip or how I was going to pay for the other expenses of living in this new country but buying a ONE WAY TICKET to Alaska and Japan for my birthday was a way to make sure that I would NOT turn back to the safe routine life Id grown accustomed to and not give up on my dream this time around. My biological family were meeting my extended Japanese relatives in Osaka with my 5 nieces and nephews and mom and I was not going to miss that trip because of lack of money. No way. I was simply NOT going to allow myself to fail going to Japan by the age of 40. And that was how I made it here.

The plane ticket was the initial investment that would use the profit from the sale of my car SG as seed money for the next part of my life in Japan. I had tried to manifest this journey in 2013 but I didnt make such a huge commitment like buying a one way ticket with no refunds.

FULL CIRCLE CONNECTION TO THE WHORE REVOLUTIONARY

I met my current Osaka host Yukiko briefly in Washington DC 2012 AND Desiree Alliance 2010 but didnt remember! FB_IMG_1466423299393

Yukiko from SWASH (Sex workers and Sexual Health) Japan and I after my performance at 2012 AIDS conference in Washington DC

Here is us after I did a performance inspired by the Korean sex workers who protested the closure of their brothels by pouring gasoline on their naked bodies. In my whore revolutionary days i could relate to the urgency of decriminalization and often felt that i would RIDE OR DIE or self emolate? for the cause of sex worker liberation. Although the goddess I am now doesnt carry that fury so intensely any longer (its now transmuted in many other creative ways).

EVERYTHING I did in the 16 yrs in this work and movement (im still criminalized and 2 of my sex worker/priestess friends are currently in jail/prison) was paid forward to this moment with yukikos hospitality to the clients and friends I am able to attract in Japan today. And none of it made sense until I got here. Funny how life works isnt it?

 

2016 Yukiko buying me Hello Kitty things in Osaka, staying in her home and being hosted by other SWASH members in Osaka

 

TIMELINE OF EVOLUTION

2012 International AIDS conference performance with Scarlot Harlot im Washington DC
MARCH 2013 begin training in hands on Sacred Sexuality/Tantra at Ecstatic Awareness Institute in Oceanside, CA
Begin transition into “the goddess” a moniker for a Tantra pracitioner, a vessel of LOVE and Light, a LOVE worker, a spiritually awakened facilitator of healing and consciousness

OCTOBER 2013 60 hr Tantraquest training as a Tantric Life Coach with Shawn Roop in San Diego, CA

There are a lot of Tantra trainings and mentors that guided me on my goddess path. Im not going to list them all…

The initial inspiration will always be credited to the coaching genius of Destin Gerek who suggested that I try this route of working and being when he acquainted me at a magazine party in LA, hearing that I was at the end of my rope as an escort and sex worker and running out of ways to keep denying that i needed to find a way out of the too often traumatic and ugly  parts of my work life.  He gifted me with life changing coaching and took me as serious as any high paid client of which he has had many. This pro bono coaching gift was instrumental in creating a new path that leads 4 years later to where I stand today. alive, well and doing better than I ever have in my life. Totally fulfilled beyond my wildest imagined dreams.  Some people have “come to Jesus moments” but I had renounced organized religion long ago and was having a “come to goddess” moment which wasnt about simply feminizing a previously masculine God head but it was a spiritual awakening to a whole new consciousness and free form collection of theories, beliefs and practices which I would apply to my client practices and own life. It was truly about coming home to SELF. God/GODDESS was about finding the faith and divine power and truth within and now. Not in any afterlife or big book or church. 3 years of practicing as a professional goddess I no longer identify as an escort or whore revolutonary and my Tantra practice has clients locally in Japan and back in the USA coaching by webcam. My lifestyle, clients, and practice are seemingly opposite of everything you read about on this blog before this post. But I do not renounce my past for the past brings us to our present and makes me have that much more gratitude and reflection.  I could not be HERE if i had not first been there.
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09
Jul
12

12 days to get to DC! PLEASE HELP TODAY!!

This is the final push to get some funding get me to DC and help to fund my trip and creative ideas for my upcoming shows! I’ve added some sex toy and lube cream for you to get moitivated to get your credit card out!  http://bit.ly/NncBFu  is the link to the Indie Gogo Campaign..  http://on.fb.me/LwYWt4 is the link to the July 20th Facebook Event in LA.  PLEASE PLEASE DONATE!  I already bought my plane ticket to DC and I am heavy in production and practice for these shows so doing sex work is also really difficult to do while promoting these shows.  Every contribution helps!  

27
Jun
12

HELP ME GET SEX WORKER MUSIC In LA, DC and BRC this summer!

I know I haven’t blogged on here at all this year.  I am working on writing a BOOK actually.  Well, not right now, but eventually!  First off is focusing on my music and performance career which kicks off with a show at Highways in Santa Monica called “Whorrific Cabaret.”  I have been working on my body and mind for the last 6 months and I am in a position to WIN.  I meditate on success everyday.  I’ve lost 12 lbs.  I can do anything that I set my mind to.  GO FIGHT WIN.  $2500.  That’s what I say while I am punching my partners hands doing sit ups in class.  My singer/artist apex dreams will become a reality…please help support!

Check out this video and help me make my big thinking no limit WHORE REVOLUTIONARY dreams this summer.  I have 24 days to raise money for my goal.  Every element is about spreading sex worker activism through MUSIC.  I am getting ready for a big show in Santa Monica with Madison Young and Nina Hartley on July 20th.  Even after I have done activism in LA for the last 6 years, I still feel like the city barely knows what sex worker rights culture (and it is a culture everywhere else but here) IS.  Help me change that!  If you believe that that is worth $7 PLEASE DONATE!  Click on the link below to get to the campaign page. Every donation HELPS!  Thank you so much!

08
Jan
12

2012 YEAR OF THE DRAGON: time to breath some FIRE

Today marks the 3rd month that I have stopped inhaling marijuana

HAPPY NEW YEAR!  I am starting off the year in Los Angeles reflecting on the differences between this year and last year.  Last year I started out with a big wad of sugar daddy cash on my person because Christmas in the Bay Area had blessed me with an amazingingly generous client that allowed me to get my solo theatre show “Modern Day Asian Sex Slavery” off the ground and have a cabaret with a full jazz band and sexy sex worker burlesque performers…Those are the two big accomplishments of 2011 that I wrote in my list of things that I was proud of having accomplished that year.

The OTHER big one is more recent and carries a different weight for me.  3 months ago I attempted to go on a weed cleanse because I was sick with a cold and had stopped vaporizing for a few days because when I am sick, I don’t really feel like being high because my head is already light, so I took advantage of the 3 day streak I had already started and tried to push myself to continue it for as long as I could.  I vowed that I would go easy on myself if it was a decision to medicate or have a major mental breakdown, I would medicate.  I believe in 3 months I may have vaporized about 3 times only.  but I EAT edibles on the weekends to get high and have fun dancing and enjoying my life as opposed to using weed to just get through each day.

Previously for me, marijuana was the anti-depressant that I felt was the very thread of my survival.  It was painful for me to think of not having it in my system and there were many many times when I would be driving to the dispensaries in LA with tears in my eyes.  I’d sit down with my grinder and vaporizer tube and count backwards 5-4-3-2-1 and then after 2 inhales I would be relieved of my pain, my tears would dry and I would feel better.  Medicated.  Positive thoughts again.  In July of 2011 it was getting really bad for me, the weed was not really working that well.  I was ready to get on psych meds, the intake staff person told me he had an art gallery so I sent him some of my artwork (which is sexually charged) from my phone giving him my number as well and he started pursuing me in hopes of trying to PIMP me.  (he told me he had experience in that game and then ended with a “I’m kidding” when he noticed I reacted negatively). No lie.  My path is full of vultures, I constantly have to breath fire in their face and make them back down.  Thank God for the ability Sprint has to block numbers from calling and texting you.  During the time he was trying to contact me a lot, he had just gotten fired from that place and just got out of  jail for a getting in a fight he casually told me in our 1-2 ever conversations which always ended with a “sweetie” at the end of them.  Remember, pimps can live anywhere, be of any race, age or gender but most noticeably seek you out when you are at your most vulnerable with offers of help and resources.

That center did a half assed intake and never called me again even though they charged me $20.  I wanted my money back!  Apparently, although they didn’t inform me in any way, I guess I wasn’t insane enough to need their help.  I was disenchanted to say the least.  I decided I would try St.Johns Wort and it worked a miracle on me.  A true saint indeed.  As an uninsured American, herbal remedies are the KEY to my survival.  I use St.Johns Wort (SJW) in combination with Passionflower (for anxiety) to ease my pains and it helps me get through each day without marijuana.  I wanted to prepare my body for the baby that I wanted to have in the next 5 years and although I do know mothers who have used weed to term and bore healthy babies I thought it would be better if I cut down.  I NEVER thought I was going to be able to.  My weed use as decreased by 75% with the help of my other herbs and I haven’t had a medical card since August which means I haven’t been able to enter any medical marijuana clubs since then either.  My vaporizer is shelved, my bongs are dusty, my grinders are put away.  I am a marijuana supporter and sympathizer forever but I’m no longer a stoner.  There are no actual weed flowers in the house!  That, to me is amazing.  For me to go 5 straight days without medicating with weed is no less than a miracle.  Its been 3 months and I am still amazed every day.  In previous years when I’d done cleansing experiments, I’d used passionflower to be clean during the day, but then I’d eat an edible every night.  I’d try to make rules saying I would only smoke when the sun was down, but I’d be anxiously awaiting the sunset.  But I wasn’t using SJW yet.   St.Johns Wort helps with mood elevation and depression.  It helps me balance my brain chemistry.  I have been resistant to daily anything in my past.  You couldn’t get me to take vitamins, supplements, birth control pills daily nothing.  I’d forget, I’d skip, I’d stop.  But I take my herbs with my coffee every single day now just like I used to sit there all day in front of my home office computer with my vape tube in my mouth every hour because IT WORKS. and it works well. Some herbal remedies don’t always work on me.  People swear by 5HTP but I tried that and it didn’t do the trick like what I have now.   For me personally, I wanted to go back to a time when marijuana was recreational over the time when weed was something i would fear being without for too long.

Sometimes I still have anxiety and hard times but I’m able to push through them without weed now.  I am stronger.  I made myself stronger and I am proud of myself.  I’m not sober, I’m not clean, I’m just a new version of the same old me.  To not have the kind of depression problems that I have been plagued with for years is such a relief.  If you have never been there, you probably don’t know how dark the darkness feels even in the light.  I would be at the beach trying to lift my mood but I’d still feel hopeless, negative, worried about the future, hearing voices of defeat and the worst lonliness, even when I was trying to fix my situation by try to go out and dance (alone and go home alone w/o conversing with another person), watch a movie (alone) or go eat (alone) or to martial arts or yoga classes.  I would make a log of the time when I’d just sit in the car in the parking lot and feel that there wasn’t anyone in LA who was lonlier than me at that moment.  It is still an ongoing battle for me.   but I am happy to have this under more control.  I just got high yesterday, because, hey it was FRIDAY!!  i started to have inspirations about ideas for new paintings and decided to start painting again.  I was going off on idea after ideas and facebooking manically with joy.  That’s what weed does to me.  The ideas are real.  The ideas are still good.  Its just that now that is not me everyday, the amount of ideas that I spew out are more manageable and realizable.  If I was feeling like that on a daily basis, I noticed I would get frustrated at how I knew I was never going to follow through on these ideas because it would be impossible to manage them all well.  Idea diarrhea got annoying at meetings as well.  I’d be like hating my own interruptions and blurting outs. Fuck I shouldn’t have said that.  o well i just said it.  i wanted to be in total control of my thoughts and actions again.  Before I met my first majorly unhealthy partner at 22 I smoked occasionally and didn’t even own a bong of my own!  But after we broke up was the beginning of my new found lifestyle which I was totally content with and loved.  I will never renounce it.  I’m just happy that I am able to overcome certain difficulties in different ways and the major suffering has eased.  And I don’t rule out that I may go back to those ways, but probably not.  I went from bong to vaporizer for almost 2 years, then SJI/Passionflower and edibles on the weekends.  Weed/drug use is kind of like sex work for me.  I’m not concerned about knowing when it will end, I can’t know that.  I will stop doing what I am doing now when I am no longer doing it.  Period.  I STILL have no regrets about ending friendships to people like Kristina Wong (who tried to shame me into quitting) or my ex roommates at the Basswerks (who ran an intervention on me as a condition to staying in the) house I lived at in LA who made me feel like shit for needing to medicate with marijuana.

I’ve been trying to cut down for years but I couldn’t.  I would not compromise my survival because I knew what I needed to be well.  If I don’t have my herbs I will also start freaking out in the same way I did when I was out of weed because I can feel when I am not medicated.  I am now just medicating with something else.  I am also super relieved that I did not have to get on any expensive and long term destructive pharmaceutical anti-depressants.  I love herbal remedies as well because it fits my budget.  If you are trying to ween yourself off of any substance: TRY PASSIONFLOWER.  It takes the edge and craving off of life and it works.  I swear by it.  I swear by both these herbs just like I used to swear my life on my indica weed.  I was in San Francisco for December 17th “International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers” and Robyn Few, the founder of SWOP was there.  She gathered a circle of known potheads to share in her homegrown joints as usual and I did not partake!  It was the first time in the history of my sex worker activism that I didn’t smoke weed with Robyn Few when she offered.  Robyn’s love and her shameless weed smoking was the reasons that I joined the sex worker rights movement in the first place.  I had finally found my family I thought.  A bunch of loving prostitute stoner women hanging out in a room?  Wut? I’m IN!!!  It was a beautiful thing.  Robyn is still battling cancer with 2 joints in her hand, and I am still battling my demons too but we are both STILL ALIVE and kicking and smiling and looking hot.  SURVIVORS.  I asked her if she would ever stop smoking weed and she replied defiantly,”NEVER.”

This year music and art are my big goals.  I am going to Japan finally for an extended stay THIS YEAR for sure.  6 months to a year.  I’ve decided to leave South Central LA.  Sell my stuff.  go to Japan and make my own cultural journey without my mom’s help.  It is my lunar year.  The year of the dragon. This has got to be big. I will accept nothing less. I stopped going to weekly therapy at the start of 2012 and decided to direct that $25 into paying my pianist and start rehearsing with him on the regular again. time to get this music train BACK on the track with NO excuses.  Music is therapy anyway.  Singing sets me free and gives me immeasurable joy.  I need to do it like my other art forms.  Including my martial arts.  I had done my cabaret in January and then totally abandoned working on live music.  It got reprioritized, like my painting did. I come back to things.  but I don’t always know when.  I just had no desire to paint after I sold the last painting for $1600 and after David Perry died.  he was my painting partner.  my inspiration actually.  he was an awesome painter and the best friend I ever had.  I still miss him.  I make a mantel for his stuff in every house I live in and I told him I was going to paint again.  I said it to the mantel.  I told it to his face which was painted in his paintings.  Wendy Babcock is with him now.  I put her photo on his mantle.  I’m sure he’ll enjoy the company.

I’m already doing an exciting group show at the Aljira Gallery in Newark, NJ near Manhattan NYC and it feels like I’m going to start going somewhere again higher than where I am at now.  The curator is trying to get the show to travel to Boston as well.   There is another show at The Museum of Sex in the nearby NYC area at the the SAME TIME as the one that I am already in that is asking for a call for submissions.   I would simply have an art orgasm if I could actually have two major NYC shows at the same time!  Even just having the one show is amazing.  I am thinking that I am glad that I quit teaching and started focusing on my art and music again.  It is what I was meant to be.  not a teacher.  not a non profity worker.  Mariko Passion.  exactly who I am now.  I want to be singing in a club or restaurant with my pianist this year too.  But this always seems to be a goal.  It’s really nice ot have the visual art thing come back though.  trying to sell my shit in the back of bars and clubs in LA wasn’t going well.

I have decided to start painting again because I have been hit with inspiration for WHAT I would paint.  I haven’t painted for almost 10 years, I gave all my brushes and paints to my sister and quit until…perhaps now.  I’ve done  a  few small projects here and there but nothing has inspired me to start seriously painting the way I used to until yesterday when I get high I had these great ideas that I knew that I would actually follow through on.  These are NOT hallucinations.  It is just easier to produce my great creative ideas when I am not hearing voices from my family’s rejection telling me that I am a fat, can’t sing, too sensitive, wasting my life, not interesting, always broke.  When I am high I am nothing but positive almost always.  and more than that I am a creative genuis!!! At times like last night I wonder why I need to cut down in the first place.  It started with wanting to stop smoking because asthma but I still have asthma even though I don’t smoke or vaporize but its way more in control than last year.  I am always thankful and grateful when the pain is relieved.  I learned how to manage my asthma with plant medicines too.  Lobelia tinctures with water taste like shit but stop the wheezing.  Much better than paying big pharma $200 for an inhaler that lasts a month.  I learned how to use an alternative because I HAD to.  I like it that way actually and am really proud of the many many natural remedies that I have to cure asthma, yeast infections, bladder infections, depression and anxiety!  fuck yea!  I’m an amazing broke girl!  Really.  FUCK BIG PHARMA.

It’s the weekend, I’m high and practicing new songs to sing.  I’m bursting with creative flow and ideas and working on a proposal for the Museum of Sex due in 5 days.  Getting the New Jersey show was the first step.  The Museum of Sex is the 2nd.  The snow storm will follow.  I feel good.  I feel great.  Gonna have the whole world on a plate.

10
Nov
11

Thank Goddess for Good Clients

Friday Fairy boy weighed in at 135lbs.  That’s 10lbs less than me.  Hairless, smooth body like a 17 year old young man. Gay men call this kind of guy a “twink.” Twinks are a well understood fetish type celebrating the innocence in manhood, adolescent perfection.  I ran my face up and down it with guiltless satisfaction.  When I first met him I picked him up off the ground and wanted to throw him on the bed he seemed so much smaller than me and any clients I had had in ages.  His real age was 31.  I projected dominating him by dressing him up like a fairy boy complete with glitter and wings.  He replied that it sounded like a fun idea.  Exactly what I like to hear.  With a cute smile and glimmer in his eyes, he offered to massage me which was very welcomed by my body whose muscles seemed to remain in a permanent state of tightness from our rigorous fight workouts that I was doing at least 5-6 hour a week.  His fetish was rubbing my breasts vigorously and the action alone seemed to excite him almost to orgasm.  It felt very much like a teen sex fantasy because the whole session consisted entirely of rubbing and touching of my body safely clearing any area near my genitals.  Although I was only 4 years his senior I felt like I was helping a young man explore sex for the first time.  Maybe I was, I would never know.  I’ve definitely done that for men before.  I didn’t ask but I could tell he didn’t have much experience.  A young Sikh college student once called me over and after we started he told me he had never seen or touched a vagina before, as it was against his religion to do so.  Everything he did was with the hands of a clumsy piously restricted virgin daring to break out of the strict desires of God for an hour and listen to his own carnal desires.

My fairy boy twink straddled me and continued to rub my breasts in circles, never touching the nipples.  His body would pull back and shudder when I reached down and touched his cock even minimally.  When he did finally ejaculate, it was mostly without my touching him, but of him touching me, fantasizing what he wasn’t or couldn’t have in that moment for whatever reason.   He came with such intensity it shot me on the side of my cheek as I turned my face away and closed my eyes.  Clumps landed in my hair and bits were in his hair well.  He was the one to run to the bathroom to get a towel for us (that was usually my job) and we laughed as we cleaned his mess off of both of us.  This was nowhere NEAR the usual reaction I would procure if any client’s semen got near my face or even on my hair, but because he was such a delightful twink, he got a glowing pass.  I was happy to please him by allowing him to please me.  It was his willingness to oblige my fantasies which opened up my willingness to oblige his.  And his were so easy to oblige compared to most of the guys that I had come across in months.  The whole evening would be full of healing but the simple interaction and exchanges between me and this client was the beginning of a long needed rejuvenation.

My next client was a nurse.  A Mexican guy with a decent job.  Where have you been all this fucking year?  I didn’t fall too hard for him though like I would have done in the past.  My days of falling for clients was over and I was too guarded from previous experiences of past months.  Our sex was good.  I am always extremely pleased when men can fingerbang my pussy til it drips wet puddles all over the bedsheets.  He was a very silent lover so I had to imagine nasty things were being sad and done to me from deep inside my headspace.  I had a very satisfying orgasm on his dick.  This is a rare occurence for me actually (i can orgasm but ON a dick directly is a different story, usually fingers are more precise).   It is much easier to do when I haven’t had satisfying sex in many weeks, its like my body LONGS for the release.  I can always tell how long its been by how my body reacts to the stimulation.  Very similar to the fairy boy earlier in the evening, probably had pent up tension from MONTHS or perhaps YEARS.   I grabbed the nurse’s body and pulled it close to mine and released all my post coital bliss hormones all over him knowing we would dose off for at least an hour in afterglow.  We talked about how long and much needed that sex was for both of us.  But the cuddling, as you know, is what I live for.  I knew better than to want too much from him.  During our session he talked about different interests like going to Vegas and strip clubs and tequila and gambling and I recognized our differences so I never tried to want more than just repeat business from him.  “I’ve had a really shitty time dating people,”I said placing his arms around my body, placing his hand over my breast like I like.”This is all I really need and want from everyone I try to date but it seems so hard to get.”  I went home at 6am and slept in til 5pm the next day alone and content in my lovely comfy bed much better than the cheap notel motel bed I was on hours earlier.  I woke up rejuvenated and ready to face the world of sex work that had lately become cruel and harsh again, ready to bear more clients good and bad, my battery recharged, my soul reminded that it was good and deserving and knew no wrong in seeking the basic needs of all human beings.  Reminded once again that we all really sought the same things from each other at the end of the day.  Reminded that there were days that I used to love my clients and my job.  Reminded that not everyone was psychotic or hated me or wanted me dead.  Reminded of the goodness in men once again.  I wasn’t yet ready to date anyone yet, but these kinds of experiences were key in balancing my soul and preparing it to feel like I could imagine sharing it with someone again.  This was perfect, as much as I needed and wanted.  not more, not less.

01
Nov
11

The Barrel of a Gun

Starring down the barrel of a gun

Wondering again how the fuck I got here

Wondering again why I put myself in this place again again again

No one is going to believe you

What happened to all your training sister soldier?

But life is not as perfect as drills in a martial arts class..

Starring down the barrel of a gun

Realizing this life is kicking my ass

There is just no way I can win first just last

I wish it were so easy

But hope and fortune just strip and tease me

Cuz soon it all falls apart again

Its just a matter of where and when

I realize if a Charles Manson (or a Gary Ridgeway)  wanted to get me into his grasp

He probably could

The psychological ways they tie you up so easy

Dehumanize, degrade me

PTSD freeze me

Cold

This song is getting so fucking old

Even I’m tired of singing it

Again again again all my training gone to shit

His ugly misogynistic face I wanted to hit

But somehow my punches never quite

Reach

It…

17
Oct
11

Where’s Your SelfEfuckingSteem? Send Out The Clowns!

Today I killed a clown, or did a clown kill me?  I was feeling so fucking great waking up with someone holding me again, wrapping their arms around me and kissing me and kissing me and kissing me.  Someone massaged my shoulders and made me breakfast again one morning…I was doing everything better.  I wasn’t seeing this person or talking to him every day.  I wouldn’t allow myself to spend all day in bed love bonding with orgasms to fuel the toxic formula which has been proven to be the downfall of most codependent relationships…

Where is your self efuckingsteem?” He asked me when I picked him up shitfaced from OccupyLA.  I thought it was funny when he said it at the time, I really did.

[If you treat me like shit] I will NOT love you LONG TIME.  Nope.  Definitely not.  This I know from experience, especially if someone causes me so much pain in such a short period of time.  Luckily all this stuff goes in vicious cycles, so if you missed it the first time it hit you [me] in the face, rest assured it would come around again and again and again and as you kept trying so hard to juggle all the balls, they kept being thrown at you and all of them falling faster than the music, faster than you could chase after them down the hill, onto the freeway, lost forever….

I found out today that I have codpendent tendencies, but no, I am not a hopeless codependent.  I am becoming less and less so with every romantic partner.  They are following a vicious cycle, but they are coming in and out of my life like acid rain storm clouds.  Messing up my atmosphere and then it clears up faster and faster and faster disappearing into another bright and sunny Los Angeles day.  Rinse.  Repeat.

Love and Sex addicted I am not.  My counselor is always suggesting I go to meetings of different types.  I look up the definitions and read the meeting descriptions and laugh.  the funny thing is that once I stopped using weed, the sex between us changed.  it was sooo amazing the first night and then it was decent, but he still needed to be trained.   It was the intimacy/cuddling/affection and passionate kissing is what I live for everytime.  It’s what I turn my phone off and drive across town to get even for a little bit.  Even if it means sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a messy 23 year old’s room in his mama’s house.   I had temporarily quit using marijuana for most of this affair, which was related to me catching a cold and wanting to have a different relationship to substances of my own accord.  Now that I look back on it, that’s how I should have seen that he was an addict.  Because he was in no way trying to respect my desire to try to be sober, trying to get me to break and give in to using weed every time we saw each other.  It was pretty easy to resist as I was determined.  Even when I told him it was for the future baby (not his necessarily).  This is why he didn’t drive.  This is why he had a broken collarbone and a broken heart.  I only went back to MaryJane tonite but I don’t feel guilty about it.  I knew I would break down and use when it was “absolutely neccessarily.”   I felt stronger instantly.   It was Maryjane or the clown.  And I chose wisely.

This affair was short but sweet sixteen days,  because we went through all of the same bits and pieces faster for some reason.  He flaked on me again.  Twice in a row, the second time was the last time.  He was unapologetically drunk again and I did not desire to pick him up and make things better with his alcoholic embrace.  The last time was to fix my pathology and this time would be to appease his, and I was able to refuse it much easier.  An obnoxious drunk is easier to turn down than a slick romantic abuser manipulator.  If he had called me up drunk telling me that he was sorry he didn’t mean to hurt me, he needed help or some other smoother story like my other abusers were able to come up with other than the sorry pathetic one he presented I may have gone to pick him up instead of cut him off.

I did not imagine that he was massaging his female friend’s shoulders in front of me the other day. She was low key challenging my worth, even asking me where I went to school. (I have a Master’s Degree actually, I told her).  I didn’t like the situation at all. I felt like I was amazing artist Frida Kahlo watching her asshole fat ass non deserving but talented husband Diego Rivera paw her sister in front of her (“I know I don’t believe in monogamy, but I know I don’t feel good right now”) It challenged my views on open relationships and non monogamy even though me and the clown were not yet in an official relationship he knew that I liked him and should have talked to me about her before touching her in front of me.   Jealousy and pain.  Too much too fast.  Do they do this on purpose just to see if you will still be there after they shoot daggers at you?

He actually told me that he wanted to keep fucking me and stop kissing me when I told him I had herpes.  I burst into tears and cried so hard all day that my eyes hurt at night. (you cannot automatically get herpes from kissing/fucking someone with herpes, even if they have an outbreak on their lip (tho of couse MORE risky indeed as any open sore is), but it is especially not risky if they don’t though the “always contagious”  and “even condoms won’t protect you” doctrine is still prescribed by some doctors and sex educators).  I don’t even get those big open sores that you often see on people’s lips.  And condoms don’t protect you when your making out with someone, that is the reason behind that statement.

I did not use weed to feel better that day.  I called him and asked him to make it better, to kiss away the pain he had caused..   I do not kiss my clients because I want every kiss I give someone to mean something.  I want commercial intimacy and personal intimacy to always be different and mostly but not always something special. It makes making out with someone as exciting as it was when I used to do it at an 8th grade dance at times.   I don’t have the strength to fight the whore stigma anymore these days.  I really really don’t, even though when I wear my fancy sexy whore revolutionary outfit it appears as if I do.  And I do on the outside.  A trained warrior.  Just not on the inside.   I’d been through too much lately.  Had a shit of time internet dating on several sites,  so I had literally just given it up before I met him.  He was like a godsend when I met him at a Burningman party.  I stumbled into someone I had been looking for on the internet in the “real world.”  The first day he made me cry so hard was the first time I asked him to make things better in his embrace.  “You need to make it better.” I cried, knowing that that was just a band aid solution and that I was willingly following an unhealthy relationship pattern that was too familiar to me.  I am a survivor of relationship violence, so I will always have a tendency to seek comfort in asking the violator to heal me when I can.  And of course, he did, gave me a colorful lollipop to cheer me up (in one hand, and a can of Modelo beer in the other) when I picked him up and kissed me passionately, holding my face like I love, filling me with hot flames of desire, making me feel whole again as I rocked my hips towards him.  Later that night as we were walking to the protest (it was awesome that we were both activist/artist types), he was laughing while I was telling him about my feelings from the day and I guess I punched him pretty hard in the chest to stop his laughter.  I didn’t think that I did but he acted pretty wounded.  It’s likely since I’ve returned to martial arts and he made me cry earlier that I could have hit him harder than I thought.  But this is another codependent trick, to flip the blame on the victim. (An ex abuser has started an argument based on the fact that I “accidentally grazed him in the balls on purpose”)  Now I am the abuser.  I have been the person to hit my boyfriends in the arm or chest (the way you may have seen teenage couples fight)  or make violent motions towards their face without touching them to express my anger and desire to tear into them for the pain they have given me.  This is still violence I know.  I know.  If a man did this to me it would be equally problematic.  Now I am the one who should apologize profusely.  Good trick.  Do it again.  Again! Again! Again!

But the later offenses weren’t fixable with an apology or an embrace.  I had seen it before and I had walked away before.  Except the last time it took me 2.5 months and way, way more damage than this little affair had caused.

I went to (my best friend that died at 26) David’s burial ground and held my palms out and stared into his gravestone, hoping to channel his love and support, hoping like I have many times before to get his ghost to appear and talk to me for a few minutes.  I needed a friend bad.  I needed a lover and this floppy clown came along.  It was super fun for a while and taught me so much about me.  It was because I was more sober I was able to see his addictions with a clearer lens.  But I am no classic codependent, and he was a classic case of a borracho payaso drunkard.  Big clown shoes and sad story of time and creative potential wasted, lover after lover of his gone lost and walked away in sadness and anger before me and after me too no doubt…Promising talent, dedicated to his craft and a heart with the potential to shine a room full of children or make even the smartest, sexiest female in the room take him home.  But he clearly had no self esteem only self hatred that filled his belly which was not fat with food.  not fat with love.  Addicts make it so hard to be loved but they want and need it the most.  I know this because I have fallen in love with too many of them, except that they were closet addicts able to hold up a facade much better than this clown so our affairs would end up being longer.  No mas.  Where is my self efuckingsteem?  I still have it apparently.  I would rather be codependent with Maryjane than an alcoholic.  What I was proving to myself lately though was that I wasn’t a drug addict, I could exist without cannabis medicating through traumatic times, through the triggers, through the sadness.  But tonight,  I took comfort in her vapor and through the steam cloud I was able to dry my tears and open my eyes and see again.  I am going to use weed differently.  I am still committed.  I am going to love and do relationships differently.  I already have been.  I mourn for the loss of him and placed his number on my wireless carrier block list.  The familiar block list that I put all my ex boyfriends and lovers so I do not have to cave into them calling me in the middle of the night with sweet promises, even if they talk of them after the pain has subsided months later….I will not go back.

Yes, I am a naive child spirit that still wanders lost in the body of a 35 year old woman, but apparently I am not as vulnerable and desperate as I look sometimes.  I did do better this time, So send out the clowns.




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