blood like kittens breath. | June 10, 2011

I got my “aunt flow”, if you will. A bit of  “my time of the month”, my lady business. Well, I got it. Like a real one, for the first time in about 4 years. The progesterone in the IUD made it so my lining of my uterous wouldn’t shed then tada, no babies, which meant many little artificial periods.

I missed the ol’ girl. It felt good to feel my body cleansing too. To smell my natural aroma, to feel my insides working for me. I think my menstration smells like kitten’s breath. It makes me wonder if that is why I like calling it my pussy so much. It feels sweet and sensual. I have also been addicted to salt baths lately. The action of soaking (or inaction). I squeeze my abdomen and watch my body paint the tub, mixing with the water like pigments from a paintbrush. I feel like an inking squid.

My hypothesis over the IUD being a main contributer to my back tension and shaking has been proven inaccurate. The relief I felt over the weekend defaults to being attributed to fantastic sexual release rather than the removal of the implant.

After my anarchist blog post of epicness, my anxiety was thrilled to pop robustly out of the box I had worked to stuff it into. It crept up my spin to behind my eyes again. It’s nice though. I feel the juxtaposition of the physical rush of the interaction with folks i am in conflict with and I feel the release and nourishment of interactions with others. There is a different kind of interaction. I hold worth. I feel my worth.

My appointments lately have been a lot about shame. I found a second hand book about how shame binds us. The author wears a hell of a knitted sweater so I feel confident. My doctor talked about how extreme physical anxiety is internalized shame exacerbated by shame being inter personally fortified… and I was all, “really? perhaps also reinforced institutionally and idealogically?” (4 i’s shout out ;))

But what a conundrum!

People do something “wrong” or don’t, but are percieved and treated as “wrong” and feel shame and are shamed and then the body starts refusing the shame, which has a shameful, truly fucking shameful appearance… umm snowball.

Last night I spent a good portion of creative collaberative night chatting with Lenny a local poet legend fella, we started talking about how to parent and Lenny talked about tickling kids. He said, “I never tickle a kid past the initial giggle. No forced laughter. No dictation of emotion. I don’t throw kids in the air for a thrill, cause what you’re doing is controlling their emotions, prescribing them and directing them. Don’t fuck with the kids man. Clear the way for their natural wisdom. You are not more wise than them.”

ugghhh that might as well have been a spinal massage. adults talking about parenting in healthy ways. talking about respecting children and their inner voice. teaching each other the missing link. passing down knowlege. 

my inner shame voice speaks up and reminds me how many times I have heard I am a bad mother. i hear every time over again and i think it’s too late. i thought it was too late before i gave birth. i thought i should never be a mom. i knew my darkness within me. as cat said, “You are the darkest person I know that is not addicted to some heavy drugs.”

Lenny says, “Shut that shit down.”

yup. shut that nay saying shit down. i will. i now know another option in parenting techniques. give kids space for their own wisdom. simple but not obvious to all.

“Raise curious kids.”


I think there should be a place where parents get together and share parenting techniques that work for them. An organized space just for that. Let’s teach each other. Ima work on that.


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1 Comment »

  1. oh i am so happy you’re bleeding again. and thank you for writing about your blood with love. it has been such a hugely healing process for me to embrace, celebrate and honor my moon every month. i just recently made myself a menstrual calendar with the full and new moons marked off to watch how my cycle turns. so fun! and i highly recommend bleeding onto a blanket or towel when you can. right now i’m wearing but my tanktop and bleeding onto an old sheet. and there are different blood drops preserved with packing tape on the wood floor of my room. it feels so great to just walk around and bleed. oh. women should talk more about their moons and stop doing all this crazy stuff to hide them. i love you!

    Comment by Sara Tansey — June 13, 2011 @ 2:57 pm

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