Manifest. Mourn. Masturbate. Repeat: A Midlife Awakening
Journal Prompt:
What cycles are you currently riding out in your healing journey — emotionally, sexually, spiritually?
Feel it. Touch it. Write about it. Heal like the hot mess masterpiece you are.
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Emotionally, I’m a train-wreck wrapped in a half-ass rolled blunt, served with a side of existential dread.
And yet — somewhere between wind tasting, perimenopause demons, and hormone-induced family tension-my inner Hoe-liness shows up.
She’s the bad bitch spirit guide rolling her eyes at my chaos while whispering, “You already know better, babe. Pack your bags and bounce.”
Bitch.
If that wasn’t enough, my oldest son might genuinely stop speaking to me if he has to keep living under the same roof while being scrutinized under this hormonal dictatorship.
Half the time he doesn’t want to be in the same room with me for fear I might snap.
And honestly?
I hate sensing his tension. I don’t want him feeling like he’s walking on eggshells—but if just practiced some basic mindfulness and didn’t do dumb comon-sense-lacking shit, maybe I wouldn’t have to act like a fucking psycho…
WOOOOOoooooossahhhhh —
I digress.
Let me be clear – I have great kids. Actually, better than great. They all have great work ethics, mindsets, and bright fucking futures. But when it comes to common sense? Goddamn it, genetics truly screwed us all because apparently, I passed down my ‘what the actual fuck were you thinking?’ gene.
Great.
Perhaps my frustration is heightened by newfound hyper-awareness, —thank you prescribed medication. She’s an excellent guest when invited, but a chaotic gremlin when she crashes unannounced. Before I became the chemically — enhanced version of myself, I could blissfully ignore red flags.
Now? My intuition – AKA my inner Hoe-liness – is dialed up to eleven. And that bitch is never wrong.
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Intuition is a thing. And when you start becoming aware and listening to your inner Hoe- you realize, Bitch is a god-damned genius.
The nausea I would once feel in a shitty situation was, in-fact, Her— screaming, “Pack your bags bitch and buck the fuck up out of there.”
Why I never listened to Her before is a complete and utter mind-fuck. Maybe I’d be fifteen years further along in life if I had.
I give a big FUCK YOU to the saying, “you live and you learn” because, as you age you realize it can’t be closer to the truth.
Intuition segues nicely into spirituality – as they are twin flames. Holding hands and skipping into the sunset of existential enlightenment
I was raised Catholic, but now?
We’ve evolved into a cocktail blend of mysticism, angels, spirit guides, and whatever else makes my soul vibrate higher.
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I’ve also come to the conclusion to cease anti-anxiety medication. The face it enjoys numbing my nether regions, isn’t a win in my book. I’d rather live with my anxiety and jerk off all day with some actual feeling in my genitals.
Life is short, orgasms are sacred.
So here I am, prioritizing my sexual sanity above all else because let’s face it, there are few joys in life as pure and uncomplicated as a mind-blowing orgasm.
In short, welcome to my midlife crisis.
It’s vibrational and hormonal – but never do we have to let these chaotic energies tear us apart.
Instead, we can harness them – emotional storms, sexual awakenings, and spiritual revelations alike – to heal, to grow, and to empower ourselves.
By embracing our messiness, we become strong, more resilient, and more unapologetically ourselves.
Let your emotions guide you.
Let your sexuality liberate you.
Let your spirituality ground you.
Manifest. Mourn. Masturbate. Repeat.
Until next time…
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