Reminding Myself to Choose Happiness

I recently wrote a post on Medium about Falling in Love with a Narcissist, and no, it was not about my current relationship. After I wrote it, I felt this deep sense of uncertainty, which is odd. Normally when I write to the heart of an issue I feel like a weight is lifted. I walked away from the keyboard, and just felt numb. And then, I realized, I had been feeling numb for a long time. A few month ago, I became irritated with myself for being so vulnerable, and decided that I needed to toughen up. It’s a pattern I go through, be soft and fuzzy, then shut that down when it becomes too much.

This teeter-totter is just who I am. That being said, finding myself in a state of numbness is not ever my end goal. And so, here I am, reminding myself that I need to choose happiness… again! Life will never not be complicated, and I currently have the strongest support system that I have ever had. Being grateful is a choice, and so is being happy. I have the power to choose I real emotion that adds value, and I do not have to shut off my emotions. LOUDER for the voice inside my head telling me I need to be strong!

I could blame the people of my past for forcing me to be strong. For telling me I was only loveable when I was confident, and for trying to police the emotional swing that is quite frankly a natural part of being a woman. We have a cycle. It comes with hormones. This is reality! And I am speaking up, that this does not make me weak, as I once believed. Oh what a fool I was. So many thoughts flash through my mind, as tears well up. I’ll save unpacking how this affected my libido for another time. Because ooph, that’s just something I am not quite ready to touch.

But back to choosing happiness. This month I wrote on whiteboard a phrase that seems kind of silly, but, I think that’s why it has been helping: Light as a feather, stiff as a board. When I was a child it referenced a game whereby you chanted this, and then with a group of friends, lifted someone up by fingertips alone. It was a powerful phrase that soon was banned by our parents, for reasons we didn’t understand. Today, I am using it as a mantra to remind myself to be lighter with things like stress, burdens, and the intense pressure I put on myself to succeed. But balanced with being stiff, resolute, and confident, because I am not hollow, or of need to chance who I am. Just to be kind, and reasonable.

Great things are coming, and good things are already here. And no matter how much I bitch and moan, challenge is a part of my life. I need to look past, and choose happiness. Light as a feather, stiff as a board.

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What Really Makes “It” Good?

When I got laid for the very first time, it was over so quickly I barely even knew it happened. And the second time it was better, and it evolved over the next 8 years with the same man, ups and downs. Exploration, pleasure, and overall satisfaction. I had nothing to compare our sex life to, and I was getting it very frequently, and I always came, so, I had a good sex life with my first boyfriend.

When things ended and I started dating, I was dumbstruck by how bad sex was in the real world. No one night stand did anything for me and I realized that I needed a personal connection to be satisfied. So, my quest for my next great relationship was on. And my main criterion was that it was “good” sex. When I found it, I stuck with him for nearly a decade! Lust for him, made sex good, and thus, I was having good sex. Until I wasn’t.

After nearly 20 years, primarily with 2 men, it turned out that I had no idea what good sex really was. I had mistaken my ability to orgasm easily for greatness. And by extension I equated a solid relationship with having the best sex life, because orgasms solve everything and make everyone happy. When the frequency of sex decreased, this void appeared before my eyes, and I knew how lost I had become. It was terrifying. My whole identity came into question. This very blog came into question and this imposter syndrome nearly swept me off into the great abyss.

And then, one day, well, one night, everything changed. Yes, I have blogged about this before, so if this part of the story sounds familiar I am sorry. But I think there is lesson here, that I wasn’t quite seeing before so I needed to look at it with a fresh lens, which is this post. When my boyfriend and I, quite literally came together, all the sexual experiences of my past, became hazy and nearly lost their importance. I know, that sounds absurd, especially given some of the passionate experiences I have shared in this blog, but it’s true. When we came together, it blew what I knew about good sex, out of the freaking water.

And here’s the real testament, I have these intense feelings of love, sexuality, and passion outside of the bedroom. These aren’t feelings of just horniness or lust. I finally understand what good sex is. It’s the passion and intimacy that yes, solves problems of the day. But it also, brings two people together, united in intimacy, that extends beyond the bedroom. We support and cherish each other. We hold hands to fall asleep (well, most nights). We kiss each other every time we have been apart, say I love you frequently, and in honest truth, none of these actions are derived from obligation. We want to express these things, and we want the other to be as happy as they make us. It’s a simple formula, and one I discovered completely by accident.

As I begin my dating and relationship coaching business again, there is something I know I cannot teach, and that is, the definition of good sex. I simply cannot even dabble a toe into sex coaching because I learned about it by accident. That’s not a coachable technique, and I admit that it is an area I will stay far away from. Creating safe spaces to talk, I can help. Increasing communication skills, absolutely! Honing in on your evolving wants and needs, I’ve spent over a decade researching, and learning how to do just that. Pick me, pick me! Finding the perfect lover? I’m out. In my mind there is no perfect technique that works every time, and if someone wants to try and teach you that, great, I’m not it.

My incredible sex life is the result of lucking out with the best person for me on the planet, and the gift of physiology beyond anything I can control. There, I said it. I hit the jackpot, and quite honestly I have zero clue how that even happened. In short, my sex life is beyond good, and I still don’t know exactly what makes it good, and that’s OK! Sometimes you don’t question your gifts, you just enjoy them.

For those who want to send a few bucks my way, there are some behind the scenes photos up on my Patreon from this mini photo shoot. Thanks for all the love, support, comments, and pressing the good ole share button.

It’s 2026!!!

KGB in a sweater, with her hand in a shhh position over the face.

Ok, so this post is super late coming out, and for that all I can say is whoops! As is often the case with me, there is a lot going on. I am working diligently on my second book, while at the same time getting all my ducks in a row to start offering relationship coaching. Yes, yes… I’m back! Well, almost. As much as I want to get listening, and helping again, I really need to get the biggest chunk of this book completed, and I only have a few weeks left to hit my target timeline. So thank you 2026 for the reminder that time, once again ticks!

While resolutions have never really been my jam, the idea of a refresh with each new year is one that I resonate deeply with. The slow grow of the daylight hours, something so critically important to my mental health, and many of those around me, is one that brings a hopeful tone. And if you read anything towards the end of last year of mine, hope was something that I was lacking. While I would glimpse it for moments, the universe just kept knocking the socks off me, and not in a fun, I’m going to get lucky way. No no, it was a constant barrage of what more can I possibly handle?!?

It turns out, I can handle a lot, well, up until the moment I start my maniacal laugh/cry and well, everyone around me knows that I am done. But, those are the places where you dig even deeper, into pure emptiness and persevere, because there is nothing left to lose. Anyways that was then, and this is now, and the sunshine is slowing becoming more prominent. Sure I have quite a few more cold snaps to experience before I can get back to my happy place of writing in the sunshine, but that’s OK, because you guessed it… hope!

And when hope fails, there is sex, lots and lots of stress relief sex! Haha! Speaking of sex, there is an element of my upcoming coaching business that I am struggling with and that is the reaction to my mission statement including the phrase “sex positive”. You read my work, you know what this means to me, but how will this come across to the public? Will this be misconstrued as I am helping with sex? I know in the past, quite a few guys propositioned me to be the 3rd in their fantasies because I said I was sex positive, as a coach. And well, I don’t know yet the work around.

I’m mulling this over, and writing and re-writing my words as I try and figure out the identity of my business, while also maintaining boundaries, and my integrity. If you are reading this and have ideas, please let me know. Well, unless you are inviting me into your bedroom to “coach” you and your partner, then please, refrain. I have had enough of those propositions for a lifetime! If you’ve ever wondered why I am so great at saying no, this has a lot to do with where I had the most practice!

Anyways, cheers to a hopeful 2026! Thank you for reading, subscribing on Patreon, and sharing my journey.

Intent Matters… Then and Now

My boyfriend has been off on a work trip for the past few days, and will finally be driving home to me today. As I prepare the house for his joyous return, I am struck by some hard truths from my past, the then and now of it all, and the realization of just how important intent is to a situation. And of course, how lucky I am to have this incredible man in my life!

As I strip the bed in preparation for new fresh sheets, I know I am doing this out of love. There is something so magical about coming home to fresh sheets, and with our two shedding dogs this is a luxury we are rarely afforded. But as I do this, a memory flashes, of a time and a relationship where fresh sheets meant betrayal, secrecy, and infidelity. The man of my past told me that I was lucky that he respected me so much that he would change the sheets for my arrival. And it became somewhat of a game, to see if I was getting fresh sheets on my visit or not. I mean, not a fun game, more of a horror style game where things jump out at you, and trap you, but still a game.

When the sheets stopped getting changed every visit I knew I had won. My place was set, and my bed was rarely made again. It was a victory, and one that I was empowered by. The intent of changing sheets for the love of my life, is one of pride, and tenderness. Maybe he doesn’t care about fresh sheets, but it’s the thought that matters. I care enough to try. But there is this nagging little voice, that wonders if he is ever suspicious of my motivations. If he ever wonders why I do it, because perhaps in one of his previous relationships he was sheet changer, or had sheets changed for him due to nefarious reasons.

These are the thoughts I try to shut out. I openly share with him my past, and hope that one day, I can leave all the trauma behind me. But unfortunately it takes times, and often posts like this, or the one I wrote on Medium recently about Safe Words. Writing out the differences between then and now. Slowly unpacking intent versus love, and separating the two lives from each other. I am happy, with a relationship built on love, and respect. We have trust in each other and real honesty. And the truth is, I will race to tell him why I changed the sheets, just to be sure and clear of my intent and purpose. I work diligently to make sure he never has to worry, because I know what a relationship of worry and suspicion looks like. I know what it feels like, and no one deserves that…EVER!

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Taking a Hard Look at Myself…

When I was writing my last medium article about Being the Other Partner , I wrote a paragraph on being the other woman myself. I thought I was being honest, but when I went back to edit the piece, I realized that I had in fact written something that was so harsh and critical that it skewed the whole thing. And I began to cry, realizing just how often I have been doing this. In an effort to be accountable and take a long hard look at myself, I have crossed the line of honesty, into a much darker place, whereby I feel like the villain. I did remove the paragraph after I pulled myself together, and what I created I am proud of, well, as proud as I ever let myself be of my writing. Sometimes I think it’s easier to celebrate that I did a thing, versus actually believing that my words have any impact or meaning. Frick, look, I’ve done it again.

For those wondering, well, I wrote that I had a huge relationship regret, that I should have known better, and been smarter and that I feel terrible that I was basically a mistress. I came down hard on myself for not just saying no, and well, the truth is, there is not a whole lot more to the story. Then I created this whole big thing in my head, that truthfully, just wasn’t that doom and gloom. I know the difference, and I have had true hardships and relationship disasters, but my brain, well, it just really wanted me to feel bad about something that I didn’t need to feel bad about. I had a FWB that was always filled with consent, on both sides, and there is no guilt. But, maybe I wanted to feel guilt? I honestly don’t know.

Why, am I my biggest critic these days? I mean, it’s not like I am lacking in the professional rejection department, with my fastest responses record yet for pitching my last book. All no’s so far, if anyone was getting hopeful. So rejection is there. And my body, well, you all know how well, or not well that whole department is going. If not, read pretty much anything from last year and you’ll be caught up. Maybe it’s because I have so much rejection surrounding me, that I’ve somehow become comfortable with it?

You know that person who is always negative, and that is their feedback loop? Negativity breeds more negativity and thus they pretty much create more of it? Living a turbulent and difficult life because that’s what they know and perhaps even feel that they deserve… but I know better. And in person, aside from being a little closer to tears from time to time, I really am happy. In fact, my life has never been better. And yet, what I write, is focused on the dark side.

More and more, I feel like I have to journal, let it out, before I can get down to work. Or do something fun like a sexy photo shoot for Patreon, or just be creative. For the first time in probably 15 years, I broke down sobbing, wishing I could get a hug from my mom. Our relationship is beyond complicated, and I don’t want to open up to her when I’m feeling this vulnerable, but the thought was there. Then I cried some more, took a hot bath, and then was able to get some work done on my next book. The hurdles to get there though, ooph that took a lot out of me.

Maybe it’s the time of year. Losing daylight, feeling the pressures of the impending holiday season, and of course an ever perilous family dynamic, with the loneliness of knowing it’s the first Christmas without my grandfather. These are all real, rational things to take up a little extra space in my brain. But I earnestly wish they would all just fuck off for a little bit, so I can just sit in my happy, and creative bubble. I want to be filled with joy, laughter, and all the amazing things that I know are around me. Life is pretty magical. Why then, do the written words betray me? Why are they tricking me into writing the doom and gloom prior to the happy, and love filled place I actually am in? I truly have so much gratitude for where I am at, now I just need to convince those typing fingers of mine to start relaying the same message!