Once again my friend Graydancer wrote something that got me thinking; I know, shocking. Read his entry, then read my thoughts which came to mind when I pondered “What recharges me?”.

– When I’m driving, alone, often on my way to see friends, but occasionally on my way to work, I’ll just sing. I’ll sing loudly and proudly, and probably badly, but I let go. For the good songs, I start car dancing, rocking my shoulders and hips back & forth. Usually I’ll end up speeding, dashing through traffic with cat-like skill and precision (yes, I know, not the best adult behavior). Always, always, I smile throughout.

– When there is no one in the house, and I feel relaxed and at ease, I wash my toys, put on my masturbation playlist (what, doesn’t everyone have one?), and I don’t just masturbate, I fuck myself. Best of all, I let myself scream.

When I’m coming, I love to scream, usually the name of the person helping to facilitate my fun. When I’m alone, though, I call out Daddy along with a multiple curse words or deities. Sometimes I entertain the idea of audio recording myself during my fun, but I never have. That time is mine and no one else’s (well, one other person, but I haven’t met him yet).

– My sleeping buddy is soft, squishy, and oh so hug-able. At night, when I’m naked and under my covers, I press him against my chest, run my face on his fur, and drift off to sleep, Cabin Shell watching over me.

– This blog is a testament to my love of writing. However, there are words that I put on paper that you will never see. I carry a small brown journal where I jot down thoughts, ideas, worrying questions, wondrous dreams, and any other fucking thing I please.

One night recently I finished my blog early and still found myself writing before bed, this time in my journal. Beyond processing, it is my special pages, my mind on paper, expelling all the swirly words that need to not be in my head anymore.

– After I finish my run or my yoga DVD, I always feel better than when I started. My exercise is not a New Year’s resolution, but more a means to an end. If I work out, my rigging improves. If I work out, I like the way my body looks more. If I work out, the endorphins get me high. If I work out, I like me more.

Once, I processed some emotions while on the treadmill, broke down crying while I jogged, and quieted myself before either of the roommates saw. I pushed through not only the pain in my legs and chest, but also the pain in my heart. Feeling it thump in my torso, breathing heavy, exhaustion at my heels, I am over run by the accomplishment of getting my ass off the couch, out of bed, or just up and doing something.

– Happy Hour, lunch at the mall, or just chilling in their homes, being with my friends is sometimes just the salve I need to heal my loneliness, boredom, despair or doldrums. It’s not the alcohol, or the cute baby (though my niece is super awesome), but the time I get to spend with my chosen family.

The long meandering conversations, the catching up, the highs, the lows, the new, the old. It’s telling my kinky stories or hearing about their annoyances at work. It’s about introducing new names into their lexicon when it comes to those I care about or about learning what new passion invigorates them. It’s about meeting new people and cherishing all those who are already there. Above all others, being with my friends, whether for four days or four hours, renews and recharges me.

So, what recharges you?

Categorised as: Wisdom

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