OWN YOUR SH*T. OWN YOUR LIFE.

I’m not going to mince words, I’m a bit woo-woo. I’d stake my life on reincarnation, and I practice manifestation on the regular. I believe that, in the words of Neale Donald Walsch, via God (stay with me here), “our thoughts are creative.”

I started reading The Secret years ago and never finished it, but I engulfed every page of The Law of Attraction by Jerry and Esther Hicks, from the first cover to the last. It resonated so hard that I would’ve swallowed that book if I could’ve. It’s far from my first read on spirituality, acting as the icing on the cake, the final stitches that brought the tapestry together, creating a comprehensible masterpiece.

I’ve written about this before, but I want to delve in a bit further, because it’s the most empowering concept of humanity, in my humble opinion. Owning your shit. I'm sprinkling in a little manifestation talk, too. Check out these basic principles of attraction, borrowed from http://www.abraham-hicks.com/lawofattractionsource/teachings_brief, and my elaboration upon each.

1. YOU ARE A PHYSICAL EXTENSION OF THAT WHICH IS NON-PHYSICAL.

Whoa, people. Just whoa. It’s all the same fabric, and we’re all cut from it, but still of it. That’s a miraculous, beautiful concept to ponder. All of our individual and group energies are continuous and congruent, tailor-made to commingle and contribute to that fabric.

2. YOU ARE HERE IN THIS BODY BECAUSE YOU CHOSE TO BE HERE.

Own it. Own your life choices. Once you do this, once you take responsibility for the challenges, the joys, the relationships, you empower yourself to change them as needed. As long as you’re blaming the elusive “other” or are pissed off at the “World at Large”, you’re no longer in the driver’s seat of your life. We can't change the "other" or the "world," only our interactions and responses to them. When we sever our capacity to do that, via anger and blame, life is happening to us instead of for us.

You want to be here. You chose to be here. Your soul has a plan. Quiet the fear and the chatter so you can hear it.

3. THE BASIS OF YOUR LIFE IS FREEDOM; THE PURPOSE OF YOUR LIFE IS JOY.

That’s right. Life isn’t about sucking. It’s about joy, finding and pursuing passion and service to others. Free yourself from a lot of emotional strife by choosing empowerment. Choose empowerment by choosing personal responsibility and gratitude. Be the driver. Own your shit. Love your shit. That one bears repeating: Love your shit. Gratitude is the gift that keeps on giving. Finding thanks for the good, the bad, and the ugly is the path to freedom from struggle, anxiety, depression, and anger. When we allow these experiences to own us, our lives no longer belong to us.

4. YOU ARE A CREATOR; YOU CREATE WITH YOUR EVERY THOUGHT.

This is tough to swallow because we’ve all been through devastating circumstances. Believing that you’ve created those things via your thoughts is where people say adios. I’d like to reframe that to instead express that you’ve created the lesson born from the tragedy or the pain. We’re here to learn. Our souls know what we still need to integrate to become more whole. The ultimate Growth generally is accompanied by discord and discomfort. There is beauty to be found in pain, but you may have to look really hard for it, and that involves making a very powerful and conscious choice to do so.

Your love for this fabric of souls, your universal kin, has influenced your willingness to contribute to that loving energy, to expand it via your human existence. Only in human form can we experience the type of limitations that contribute to such amazing growth. Ego- the struggle is real.

On a smaller scale, I’m sure everyone reading this has had several defining moments when you got sick of your own bullshit and finally pulled the plug, vowing to have a mental shift, and what happened? It changed, didn’t it? You changed. If thoughts are the muscle behind change, positive thoughts are the steroids.

5. ANYTHING THAT YOU CAN IMAGINE IS YOURS TO BE OR DO OR HAVE.

Yeah, I know. It doesn’t feel possible, but that mindset is the problem. Many of us (read all of us) have abundance blocks. Know that you deserve to have what you desire. It’s okay to want a fat bank account, success, or a lovely house, but if you carry subconscious guilt or associations with money, those need to be worked through. A lot of this comes from the attitude surrounding money that you were raised with. If wealth was “bad,” or “greedy,” at the expense of doing what you loved, or only came with “back-breaking” work, that’s a block. If your family belief was that “we just don’t have financial luck," you may still be operating from that headspace. What do you tell yourself about abundance? Think about it. Explore those ingrained, irrational notions.

6. AS YOU ARE CHOOSING YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR EMOTIONS ARE GUIDING YOU.

This is so important. Fear and love are the dominant emotions. If Fear is the underlying feeling, you can imagine what kind of thoughts you’ll be creating. When we create from Love, for ourselves and others, we’re back at the wheel. Our intentions become pure and our paths cleared. Fear is a self-imposed limitation, a brick wall to progress. We're pretty adept at dressing it up with pragmatism, so it may take some deep examination to uncover camouflaged Fears, like "I'm too old to go back to school," or "We don't have enough money to risk a career change," or "I don't know what I'm passionate about"... You most certainly do, be still, and dig deeper.

7. THE UNIVERSE ADORES YOU FOR IT KNOWS YOUR BROADEST INTENTIONS.

Remember, we are the cloth, and we are cut from the cloth. Of course the Universe adores you. The Universe is you and you are the Universe. No, I’m not high on pot brownies right now. Choose your intentions, shape your life. I set my intentions regularly. This could be as simple as telling myself that we’re going to have a “safe, uneventful, barf-free, tantrum-free car ride,” or "this morning, my kids are going to get ready for school peacefully and quietly, while enjoying one another's company." The key is to say it, believe it, and feel joy while doing so. If you exude anxiety, not gonna work. I close my eyes, do some deep breathing, put a lil’ smile on my face, then tell myself how I want things to go. Be detailed and specific. On my end, it has about a hundred percent success rate and is how I survived 40 hours of travel from Bali with three small children. You can do this several times throughout the day. I find it most effective performed in small increments, relegated to each activity.

8. RELAX INTO YOUR NATURAL WELL-BEING. ALL IS WELL. (REALLY IT IS!)

It doesn’t always feel this way, but the light is there, even when you can’t see it. Trust that you were born to be alright, that things will invariably work out. Just keep moving and believing. The Universe wants what you want. That’s a pretty intense notion, but you wield A LOT of power. What you think you want and what you're putting out, via your thoughts and (often negative) self-talk, can be two vastly different things, so don't take that statement at face value. Listen to the words you tell yourself each day. Be the observer of your own thoughts. You'll learn a lot about what you "want."

9. YOU CAN NOT DIE; YOU ARE EVERLASTING LIFE.

Our souls live on after our bodies are no longer needed. There is purpose to this madness we call Life, to every joy and sorrow. Your soul is constantly integrating the lessons thereof, ever expanding in light and love, continually reincorporating within the fabric.

For the Love of Self, and the Love of Life, go forth and take your power back. You were always meant to drive.

-Angi

MADE ANEW- Why I Like Myself More as a Parent.

We’ve started going to church. Honestly, it feels more like a workshop on mindfulness than anything religious. It’s Unitarian. You know, church for the sensible, grown-up hippie of the 60’s and their liberal offspring, right down to the magazine-worthy modern design and proudly hung rainbow flag billowing in the breeze.

A few weeks ago, after the ministry, a man in his 50's approached us. We were all chatting, and he mentioned something that resonated. He said that he likes himself more as a parent than he did as a childless person. Not Earth shattering information, but I was surprised that I'd never had that specific thought before.

I’ve often contemplated the gifts that parenthood has bestowed: patience, perseverance, mental stamina, fortitude, selflessness, priority…. qualities I’m not sure I’d have developed, to this extent, without motherhood. Of course, they’ve come at the price of independence, time, sleep, hygiene, and guilt-free personal indulgence, to name a few, but when it boils down to it, I like me so much more now.

My first child didn’t require much sacrifice of personal freedoms. Most of the things I’d enjoyed, pre-parenthood, were still possible with a little bit of tweaking. I was showering every day, drinking a cup of coffee to completion (without any treks to the microwave), running in the morning, legitimately styling my (clean) hair, reading, sewing, etc etc... That’s probably why having a second didn’t sound like too big of a deal. But, for me, round two more or less pounded the final nail in the coffin of my previous self. There was no way my needs or desires could ever come first again, at least not without acting as a detriment to my parenting.

And, with River’s birth, I also lost some of my capacity for self-reflection. Alas, I wasn’t using it wisely anyway, still spending too much time worrying about how others perceived me. One of my favorite sayings is that “It’s really none of your business what other people think of you.” I had enough time before that second kid to make it my business. After him, I may have thought about it but didn’t have the emotional space to grant it effect.

But, I was still trying to operate like a mother of one, still attempting to pull off a flawless house, remodeling said house, a busy work schedule, all healthy homemade meals, yard perfection, body perfection, things I had no business putting so much energy into when I had two little boys to tend to.

Then I got pregnant again. I was hanging on by a thread, my health was failing, my marriage was fragile. How was I supposed to pull this off? At the time, I was petrified, feeling like a derailed train maneuvering through a dark, endless tunnel. Today, I realize that my daughter saved me from myself. From my overachieving, ridiculous self.

It was by far my most difficult pregnancy. I was sick for the duration. I was exhausted, battling adrenal fatigue from the aforementioned lifestyle. But, I still pushed myself too hard, getting up at 5 am every morning to exercise till the very end, working 10 hour days on my feet, and continuing to do all the house stuff. The Universe was trying to tell me something, and I was the heedless teenager with her Walkman blaring, holding up her middle finger.

Indigo was born, and I got legitimately knocked on my ass. Back to work four weeks later, colicky baby screaming in the next room, breastfeeding, up all night, trying to parent two little boys, finishing our remodel and then selling our house, packing and moving to another state- operating in pure survival mode, all before she was even a year old.

Living through that, the utter chaos of it all, broke me.

And I needed to be broken. A fragile vase, too close to the edge of the shelf, I could feel myself teetering, and then slowly losing footing, eventually shattering to a million little pieces.

But those fragmented bits of me found their way back together, some rightfully lost to the rubbish pile, and others spared. With each subsequent child, we’re made anew. For some, it takes longer than others to accept the beauty of that transformation (me, me, me), the necessity therein. It took space and time to unravel, moments of quiet that hadn’t existed when I’d worked and lived in a project house. There was depression as I lost my sense of self, then redefined it and my priorities. My importance, my worthiness was no longer a derivative of hard work. Now, being a mother to my children is distinction enough. But, it took all three to get me there.

And, I like myself so much better now.

-Angi

CUPCAKES, THORNS, AND STAY AT HOME MOM GUILT.

“Okay, now stir in one cup of flour”... We’re sitting on the floor, in front of the play kitchen, making pretend chocolate cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles. “Add a teaspoon of vanilla and whisk the batter.” My two oldest children are in school until 3:30. These days, it’s just me and Indigo at home together. “Pop ‘em in the oven and set the timer.” Last year, I was a working mom. After my first child, I was putting in 50 hours per week. By the third, I’d whittled it down to 30. But, they were still 10 hour days with no lunch or break time, and me running out to nurse a baby or make my toddler a meal every time I put a client under the dryer. I’d set up shop at home right before my third was born, thinking it might ease the workload; invariably, it had the opposite effect,  making me available to do more.

It's no secret that being a working mom doesn’t remove any domestic responsibilities. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and trying to take care of yourself just get added to the list. On the weekends we squeezed in as much family time as we could and on my weekdays off, it was a nonstop parade of errands and chores.

I was patient and loving with my children, but there wasn’t a lot of interaction happening in the form of play. I taught them all the basics. We spent a lot of time reading, baking, snuggling, and performing the requisite holiday crafting, but I couldn’t turn it off enough to relax on the floor and just BE with them. There were too many tasks looming in preparation for a workweek with long days and nights spent nursing a restless infant. I'd race from five minutes of reading to cleaning a toilet and then back to singing a quick nursery rhyme out of obligation, then off to to do dishes or fold some laundry. That, coupled with both boys living through nine months of pregnancy-induced illness, consistent pre-term labor, and basic being-with-child lethargy, robbed them of a solid year of quality parenting. I did the best I could, but it never felt like enough. I knew I wasn’t the mom I wanted to be even when not pregnant, but I justified it by telling myself I didn’t enjoy play or lacked imagination. When we moved, I left behind my clientele and embarked upon stay-at-home mommyhood.

“Alright, time to take the cupcakes out so we can put the pink frosting on.” She reaches for a hot pad and delicately removes the tray from the oven. I’ve never felt this much joy, this kind of ease. Never have I been able to relax to the point of being able to sit and immerse myself in the creativity of childhood. It took me a solid six months of not working to even allow myself this. I operated like the sky was falling and preparations need be in place at all times. That sensation slowly took leave as I realized that if the laundry didn’t get done on Tuesday, there was always every single other day. Playing with my children no longer feels like a chore, as it did when I worked. There are no tasks resting upon my shoulders to rob me of the gift of presence.

Yet, all of this leaves me with a lingering sense of guilt… on many levels.

When she lays down for her nap today, I’ll go for a run and then sit in the bathtub and read or do some writing. My husband works from home. Sure, I do all the house stuff and cooking, but he’s bringing the money in while I’m upstairs soaking in Epsom salt water infused with lavender. Guilt.

It’s too easy. I’ve never had days like this. The last eight years were spent in survival mode. Now, it's just me and a two year old. It doesn’t feel fair because I’m not toiling. Aside from minor toddler drama, it's all pleasantries. I have decent time management, so my house is clean, my laundry is done, my meals are planned. Her nap times belong solely to me. They exist for my indulgence. Deep down, I don't feel deserving. Relaxation doesn’t come naturally. I’m a better human, a better wife, a better mother for having it, but still… guilt.

Those two big boys at school all day who never got to experience their mother like this…. God, the guilt.

That one hurts so much. I can get past the fruitless guilt born from exercising and taking baths, but I can’t ever make the time lost right for them. They’ll never be home with me in that capacity again. Gone are the days of make-believe. They want to be outside adventuring with friends, not building LEGO houses with their Mommy.

I can’t help but lose my emotional shit when I think about what they’ve potentially lost from those missed interactions, from having a mommy who’s mind was always wandering from one chore to the next.

Alas, what can I do?

Nothing.

Thus is life. We have to grin and bare the casualties of our mistakes. This isn’t said to lay judgment upon working mothers. We come with different desires, thresholds, standards, support systems, and life contexts that dictate our choices if we’re so blessed to even have choices.

I write this with the intention of allaying guilt, cathartically putting pen to paper for the sole purpose of healing because it’s not something I’ve worked through or have the answer to.

The only thing I know to be true is that guilt takes up space and emotional energy. My family needs all of me. I need all of me. It changes nothing and is a senseless thief of joy and content, not worthy of creeping into priceless moments with my daughter. I’ll make that my mantra from here forward, reminding myself that I did the best I could with what I had and what I knew. In the words of Maya Angelou, “When you know better, you do better.” I hold that saying close to my heart always, especially as a mother, because grace is so important as we journey through parenthood- a thorny, winding path rife with mistakes and wishes for do-overs.

-Angi

CART FULL OF ZEN- I Stopped Shopping and Here's What Happened.

I’m on my fourteenth beanie. Things are starting to look obsessive. I’m certain that the Target employees and my fellow shoppers are concerned for me. Anything that isn’t embellished with sequins has made its way to the top of my head and been paraded in front of the tiny mirror. We’ve taken up residence of the accessory section long enough for Indigo to litter the aisle with fuzzy gloves and purses so small that grown women really shouldn't own them... and I’m not showing signs of stopping.

I’ve never been on a budget before, always having worked and been fortunate enough to make decent money. We’ve never Dave Ramsey’d it. No envelopes. Yet. There's never been a need to run a personal purchase by my husband. I do have some restraint. There are certainly tons of things I want that don’t come home with me. Being cheap is a beneficial roadblock to accumulation- my dad’s voice echoing in my head, “If it’s not on sale, then it’s not for sale.”

But, I don’t work anymore. It's been a really fun, rather indulgent year, and now it’s time to reel it in. I thought I’d been doing that, but as it turns out, my subdued version of shopping isn’t cutting it. The unexpected expenses now seem to be given monthly occurrences. This is an “absolutely no extras” situation until we get our shit together.

I’ve done this once before in years past, for a very short spell. Walking the aisles proved to be a losing battle. Just get the stuff on the list, don't veer from the periperhal, and hightail it outta there before catching a glimpse of anything Nate Berkus. It’s the home stuff and the little girl clothes, they make me weak in the knees every time.

But something else happened when I refrained for that month- a surprising and behemoth sense of relief. I didn’t have to search for things online to “make my life better” or my person “cuter.” There was no wrestling with myself about “should I or shouldn’t I," and no pressure to improve my situation, as defined in a completely material way. 

So, when the budget crisis 2017 hit our house, I felt that same wave of relief take residence. I’d effectively removed the pressure to strive for more, but this time around I noticed a nagging feeling that I hadn't given the space for introspection before. I realized that when I become adrift from purpose and self-care, l try to recreate feelings of abundance and importance through shopping. Except, it's completely extrinsic in nature, and any good feelings it elicits are short-lived, which means more stuff needs to be bought on the regular. Controlling my environment is the obvious but ultimately inadequate stand-in for the lack of control, intention, and purpose I’m feeling internally.

Today I had pie and espresso for lunch. I skipped my workout. After six days of the stomach flu and house guests thereafter, the whole week had fallen into that vein, and then I went to Target and lost whatever morsel of self-control I had left. It’s an avalanche of mindless choices.

I craved it, the shopping, the spending, the hunt, the incongruity even. I dressed it up first- “Indigo needs a snow hat, and we need a bin to organize her toys.” But, since I’m outing myself, her old hat just requires mending and no one “needs” an organizational bin. Ever. Fucking Martha Stewart, planting her evil seeds in my head.

We walked around Target for two hours. Yes, two hours. I threw in a snow hat with kitty cat ears, I bought the damn gold polka dotted bin. And now here I am, in a mustard yellow beanie, batting my eyelashes at the mirror, feeling like I won’t be able to find it again in this weird hipster color if I don’t just do the damn thing. It’s $5. I’m justifying. I buy it. And a cream one too. Uffff, failure.

I get home and immediately announce to my husband that I’ve fallen off the wagon and just needed a fix. I try to validate my purchases to him, but I can’t even reason them to myself.

When we stop taking care of ourselves, when we don’t listen to our internal compasses, the slippery slope starts to form and it’s so easy to slowly slide down, sinking further into the deluge. The stuff and the poor choices all serve as distractions from the neglect of my inner voice.

Eating pie for lunch tasted good, but it didn’t feel good. Carrying the polka dotted bin full of stuff into the house didn’t bring purpose or mindfulness to my life. I know what self love looks like for me, which things bring me intrinsic abundance- building lego houses and making pretend cupcakes with my daughter, reading self-help books, meditating, getting outside, exercising, eating well, connecting with my husband… Shopping isn’t on that list. Often, making just one grand gesture on my own behalf is enough to careen me back towards my path of mindfulness and self-care.

So, I’m gonna pack the Target crap up, mend the beanie, go put in a workout DVD, eat sautéed kale salad for dinner, hope that the world goes on without ever having seen me in a mustard-colored beanie, and freeze the rest of the cherry pie.

-Angi

HAS SEX BECOME JUST ANOTHER CHORE YOU DON'T WANT TO DO?

“Let’s talk about sex baby, let’s talk about you and me, let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, let’s talk about sex.” -Salt-N-Pepa

Disclaimer: If you’re my mom or my dad or my mother in law or my father in law or any old person I look up to, promptly close the window on your screen and move along to Facebook or something.

I was in a self-help book club before we moved. It was glorious, full of intelligent, interesting, open-minded women eager to share their perspectives. There are certain requirements for a book club to be considered legitimate. One is books and the other is wine. I’m a rule follower, so naturally, our book club had both.

At around hour three, the wine bottles were usually empty and the subject matter had taken a surprising turn- to sex. This happened Every.Single.Time. We learned some interesting things about one another. I’m a classic oversharer. Especially when booze is involved. (You take that one bit of information to your graves girls. Y'all know which one I’m talking about.)

Anyway, this book club, coupled with the intimate stories told to a hairstylist, and tidbits from friends, have given me some insight about how much and what kind of sex everybody is having and how they feel about it.

From what I’m hearing, most of you just aren’t into it. Sex has become yet another chore, lifetimes away from the glory days of pre-wedded bliss.

Is this because the world is complicated and exhausting? Is it because your hormones are whack-a-doodle from the aforementioned exhausting life, coupled with pregnancy upon pregnancy? Is it because you feel like your hot factor has dramatically declined in the last half-decade or so? Is your marriage doomed?

The answer probably lies somewhere within all of those, except maybe the doomed marriage part (fingers crossed for you).

Most of us are gettin’ it on somewhere between 1-3 times per week, according to stats on The Google. But, realistically, word on the street (my street) puts it more at like 0-1 times per week. Zero times is a travesty, ladies. Sex is free, fun, and it’s healthy. And, it’s good for your marriage. It’s a win, win, win… win.

We don’t need to hold ourselves to the standards of a national average. Quality over quantity makes a difference. Five wham-bam-thank-you-mams in a week don’t count for much when it comes to emotional connection. Not every night is going to be filled with mind-blowing sex, but you gotta squeeze those in whenever you can. It’s a subjective necessity that varies for everyone. If once per week you’re having an intense session and everyone is satisfied, then don’t play the comparison game.

Let’s pick apart what’s going on for those of us that just aren’t feeling it. (These suggestions are predicated on the assumption that there aren’t additional emotional/ sexual issues to address for either party- we’ll address some of these in future blogs.)

If you feel like you’ve never recovered from the cray cray hormonal fest that is pregnancy and/or breastfeeding, you’re in good company. I’ve certainly been there. After 15 months of breastfeeding my second and third children, I had the energy levels and the libido of a cardboard box. Getting your hormones checked is a losing battle, because they fluctuate wildly depending on where you’re at in your cycle, so don’t waste any bucks there. First off, everyone needs to take Vitamin D3, Magnesium, B12, and iron (this one only if you’ve tested deficient). These vitamins are game changers for your energy levels and almost all of us are deficient (yes, even the healthy eaters).

Check out adaptogens, like ashwagandha and rhodiola. These aid stress regulation and hormonal regulation. While not an adaptogen, SAM-e helps with stress and depression. Read my article about Adrenal Fatigue. If it resonates with you, think about making the suggested changes.

Maca root powder, Evening Primrose, krill oil, and DIM are excellent supplements for regulating hormones in whatever direction needed. A lot of us (most of us) are estrogen dominant (read about this here) because of mass exposure in our environments. It’s important to avoid unnecessary exposure to estrogens- plastics, non-organic produce, soy, non-botanical cleaners, make-ups, and hair products, etc etc.

Cleaning up your diet, to support health and energy will do so much more than improve your libido. You’re worth it. Your family is worth it. Your marriage is so worth it.

Now that we’ve gotten the health stuff out of the way, let’s talk about the possibility of you just not feeling sexy enough to want to actually have sex. Your husband’s idea of sexy has more to do with your self-confidence, and his complete and utter love for you, than that extra 15 pounds you just can’t seem to shake. He doesn’t care. He’s not picking you apart the way that you do yourself. He wants you. Don’t deny yourselves that satisfaction and sense of connection because you want to keep your saddlebags under wraps.

Maybe things have gotten monotonous and the payoff isn’t feeling worth the effort involved. Good sex is a two-way street. It’s like that thing we always say to our kids - “bored people are boring.” Get off your back and have some fun, mix it up, dress it up. It might feel silly, but some sexy music and a pretty lil’ something can set the tone. I have a sexy time playlist on my phone. It helps take me out of my responsible, adult, list making head, and puts me in the mood. I’ll even listen to it during the day to rev myself up for the upcoming evening. I associate good times with those songs and enjoy thinking about that more than just when we’re in the moment.

If your husband still doesn’t seem to know what’s up with your body, nothing is going to change unless you share what you’ve learned with him. He doesn’t have a vagina, how is he supposed to know what to do with yours if you aren’t incredibly specific, down to the last detail? Everyone likes different stuff. You won’t hurt his feelings if you clue him into what works for you. Most men greatly appreciate the guidance. They love to see you satisfied. It makes them feel accomplished. (If your husband isn’t interested in anything more than his own needs, that’s a relationship issue that surely bleeds over into everything else, and most definitely requires intensive mending. Ditto if you’re not thinking about his needs.)

Guilt is another roadblock in allowing our partners to pleasure us. I used to make assumptions about what my husband did and didn’t want to do, or how he felt about spending time just on me. The truth is that he loves me and enjoys seeing me feel good. He thinks I’m worth the effort.

Some of us struggle with shame and embarrassment surrounding sex or nudity. It’s hard to talk openly and use all the anatomical words to describe what we want in the light of day. Some of us may not even be sure what we like or what works. There’s no magic bullet for removing programmed shame. It takes time and forced communication. The more you talk about it, the more you experiment on your own and together, the more desensitized you’ll become. Up until I was about 30, I struggled with discussing and learning my own preferences, relying upon various partners to teach me. Over time, through toeing the line of my comfort zone, it’s become a much easier and far more rewarding process.

If none of this seems applicable, and you’re just not into your guy, that sounds like a marriage problem, lack of sexual interest being a byproduct, probably accompanied by a host of other byproducts.

Assuming you’re in love with your husband, there are little changes that can make big differences.

Here are a few things that have proven helpful with maintaining intimacy in my marriage:

I go out of my way to really notice my husband, the way his arms flex as he’s making his breakfast, his cute lil’ butt walking around the house in his sweatpants (which I give a squeeze every chance I get). I pop into his office regularly to sneak more than a basic smooch and maybe pass a lil’ verbal foreplay his way. These things may sound silly, but they build tension and by day’s end we’re excited for more. It takes effort and mindfulness, but it’s minimal, reminds us of our pre-children selves, and it’s fun.

I know that we’re all spent by the time we’ve cleaned dinner dishes, herded a bunch of kids into the bath, gotten them to sleep, and then settled into the reprieve from parenting that is bedtime. I don’t think any of us are immune to that. Sex after a long day is like exercise, you have to motivate yourself to get started. Once you’ve done it, it’s almost never regrettable. Most of us have a laundry list of shit we need to do all day, every day, and often times sex just doesn’t make the cut. Wine on the couch sounds much more alluring. Making sex a priority can grow your relationship, and the extra strength it adds to our partnerships helps us handle the chaos of life and parenthood. It’s a fundamental part of marriage, a physical extension of the emotional connection that is imperative to a healthy, loving relationship. It’s not just about getting your husbands rocks off because men have “needs.” If you allow yourself to really be immersed in it and take the time to nurture that connection, so many aspects of your marriage and your self-image stand to benefit. If you’re not having sex, you’re roommates- you’ve removed an incredibly special and definitive piece of your marital relationship. Rewrite that list, move intimacy up several spots and see what happens, you’ll likely be pleasantly surprised.

-Angi

Side note: I really want to emphasize that so many women have varying degrees of psychological associations with sex and current experiences are colored by past experiences. It’s not always a drive issue and definitely not always as simple as I’m presenting in this blog if your sexual history and upbringing are complicated. There’s help out there, and it's more common than you think ❤️.