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Monthly Archives: February 2012

sex. love. liberation. gorgeousness.

Written on February 29, 2012 by in on photography

Waaaay back in September 2011 (which seems almost like a lifetime ago at the moment), I traveled to Portland for a flurry of photo shoots and a Rally. When I returned to New York, I was so full of ideas that I forgot to show you the portraits I’d taken! So now I’ve decided it’s time for show and tell. Today I’m sharing an interview with self-described sensualist Ev’Yan Whitney, whom I photographed, along with her husband, Jonathan Mead, in and around Portland’s Ace Hotel.

K: I get the sense that through your blog and your book, you’ve started a much-needed discussion of sex and sexuality in the online personal development world. What called you to start Sex, Love, Liberation?

E: Sex, Love, Liberation came from my own personal longing. I had this deep, insatiable desire to create a platform where I could document my sexual self-discovery journey. And then I realized that a lot of people need that outlet, too. Since then, I’ve taken it upon myself to learn everything I can about sexuality to aid in my own journey & the journeys of others.

K: I’m imagining that you’ve done a lot of learning about yourself through writing your blog. What’s one of the most interesting shifts you’ve experienced?

E: That matters of sexual dissatisfaction cannot be solved solely through the mind (logic, systems). It should be dealt with with movement, physical exploration, tangible release. Figuring this out healed my own perceived “dysfunction.”

K: Have you been afraid to write and talk about your own experiences with sex and sexuality? If so, how have you overcome the fear and done it anyway?

E: Every time I sit down to write something, I feel a small pang of fear. But I’ve found that continuing to write in the midst of that fear allows me to produce the most raw & revealing work. And I think that’s the key to speaking about such private matters. We don’t need anymore passionless diagnoses or complex techniques. We need humility, we need vulnerability, we need a sense of empathy. Those things are perpetually present in fear, & I do my best to embrace them.

K: What’s your very favorite way to practice self-care?

E: Touch, self-exploration, ecstatic release (i.e., masturbation). There’s nothing quite like being blissfully reminded of our capacity to experience pleasure. Self-love is self-care, & self-care can be in the form of orgasm (or being turned on).

K: What (or whom) is bringing you joy right now?

My husband & partner-in-lust. He gives me permission to be myself, wholly & unreservedly. He accepts me as I am & loves me unconditionally. He (& the companionship we share) gives me so much joy.

Ev`Yan Whitney is a liberation artist for women who are hungry for shameless sensual expression. With honeyed prose, she instigates brazen discussions about sexuality at her digital sanctuary, sexloveliberation.com, which serves as a safe haven for women who are craving connection to their inner desires. Join her tribe of sensualists by signing up to the Self-Love Letters. You can also follow her on Twitter: @ev_yan.

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how to look in the mirror (without ripping yourself apart)

Written on February 27, 2012 by in on liking yourself

You look in the mirror. Every chance you get. Compulsively, even. You glance sideways at glass windows as you walk past them, hoping your reflection will be there to check. To tell you whether or not you’re okay.

Another scenario: you avoid mirrors. You know you won’t like what you see there, and so you’re afraid of them. When you catch a glance of yourself, distorted in a car window, something in your chest drops down into hopelessness, as your worst suspicions about yourself are confirmed.

Either way, you’re a slave to the mirror. Whether you can’t get enough of it or can’t get away from it quickly enough, the mirror is holding the keys to whether you like yourself that day or don’t, and whether you’re going to have a good day or a bad one.

It’s not right, or fair, or logical, that reflective surfaces should hold this much power over us. Reflections are nothing more than light. Light, acting in fascinating and, admittedly, kind of magical, ways.

But of course, we’re not dealing with logic here. We’re not dealing with reason. This is about emotions, and knee-jerk reactions, embedded after a lifetime of reinforcement.

The funny thing about reflections, and the ways we react to them with aversion or obsession, is that we already know what we’re going to find in them. We know that the mirror will show us the zits that our eyes fly to first, as unacceptable as ever. We know the mirror will tell us that this shirt doesn’t look good on us (if that’s what we believe).

Why? Because mirrors don’t just reflect light and appearances. They reflect values. They reflect how we view our world and our selves.

We already have our preconceived and long-established opinions about why we’re good or bad, attractive or unattractive. The mirror (as mirrors do) is just reflecting those opinions back to us. We think we’re getting honest feedback from an outside source, when really, we’re getting our own subjective perceptions of ourselves delivered in another format. Mirrors don’t tell us the truth any more than our thoughts tell us the truth.

It’s possible to step out of the cycle of obsessing over the mirror (or avoiding it), and it doesn’t start with berating ourselves.

It starts with noticing things. Noticing when we’re seeking out or avoiding mirrors compulsively. Noticing how often that happens. Noticing how you feel when it happens. Noticing what you were doing and thinking before engaging with or avoiding the mirror, and how you felt and what you did after.

When starting a practice of noticing, I highly recommend writing your noticings down on a piece of paper, as close to when it happens as possible. And if you can, be curious about this. It’s hard to skip the self-flagellation and engage curiously instead, but making the attempt to do so is all that matters.

There’s a whole lotta freedom (from mirrors and anything else that holds more of your power than you want it to) in noticing stuff.

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pockets of joy: daily puppy

Written on February 22, 2012 by in on feeling our feelings

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here yet, but I’m currently enrolled in a Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) workshop. MBCT was developed to help prevent relapse and decrease the severity of anxiety and depression, and I’m hoping it will be one more tool to add to my depression-fighting toolkit.

The workshop meets for a couple hours each week, and we have daily homework. Which is to say: it’s pretty intensive. Homework so far has included mindfulness meditations, very gentle yoga, bringing mindfulness to everyday activities, and investigating pleasant and unpleasant experiences as they happen.

Last week, one piece of our homework was to notice one pleasant experience each day and take note on paper of accompanying physical sensations, thoughts, and feelings. I found that this practice allowed me to appreciate the tiniest pleasures more, and to thoroughly experience them instead of taking them for granted (as we humans are wont to do).

So I’ve decided to start a new series here called Pockets of Joy, to share the things that are making me giggle with glee.

Today’s pocket is Daily Puppy. I’m totally obsessed with it at the moment. A few days ago, I scrolled through several pages of puppies with a big grin on my face (all the while noticing the pure elation in my chest — for homework purposes, of course). Puppies are soft and fuzzy, mischevious, roly-poly, and simply wriggling with enthusiasm for play. They inspire me immensely.

What’s bringing joy to your world today?

*photos via Daily Puppy, with my modifications

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i believe in kindness: a free wallpaper

Written on February 21, 2012 by in on photography

I’ll be honest: my favorite photos are always the ones I take in the Northwest. It’s something about the light. The cloud cover and northern-ness of Seattle and Portland lend themselves to dreamy, sincere photographs. I love that light for portraits (as my last Northwest portrait clients know well, ’cause I wouldn’t stop talking about it). I also love it for nature-ey photos.

I’d been planning to make a new computer wallpaper to share here with a new photo — one of the ones I’ve taken here in New York in the last two months. But I’ve simply given up. This photo, from my last Seattle visit in December, seemed perfect for the quote.

Until I get around to taking some New York photos that I like a lot, please enjoy this new wallpaper, which you can download in its full size here.

You know, I really do believe in kindness.

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much ado about (sweet, sweet) nothing

Written on February 15, 2012 by in on being highly sensitive

Doing nothing is, possibly, the best idea I’ve ever had. (Though, to be honest, it wasn’t really my idea. It was my therapist’s idea, and I just embraced it with all of my being and called it my own.)

I shall rephrase: doing nothing is, possibly, the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.

As promised, I spent that whole weekend, from 12:30 pm on Saturday to Sunday night, in service of absolutely nothing and no one, with no obligations to go anywhere.

There’s no way for me to communicate to you how delicious that time was.

I spent a full day reading (a children’s book, no less!). I didn’t need to open my computer. There were no obligations tugging at my mind, making me sure I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing and should, instead, be doing something else.

There was nothing to accomplish. If I laid on the couch and looked out the window all weekend, that would be success. If I alternated between sleeping, eating, and sitting, that would be success. If I watched the entirety of Downton Abbey (which, by the way, I did), that would be success.

I succeeded marvelously at nothing. (There is a sparkling invisible trophy on my bedside table to recognize my monumental non-accomplishment.)

I’m guessing you might be thinking, “Okay, Kylie. That’s really great that you were able to do nothing. But it isn’t possible for me. I have too much to do.”

In response, I’m going to be really coach-ey and ask: Are you completely and totally sure that’s true? Is there a way you could disprove it?

And now, because maybe you didn’t know how to answer those questions, I’ll share with you how I did what I thought was impossible, and had a whole day and a half of nothing.

How to Do Nothing (or, rather, How I Did Nothing):

  • Pick a period of time for the nothing-doing, and stick to it. It doesn’t matter how long or short this time period is. It just matters that you define it and stick to it as best you can.
  • Tie up your affairs in the World of Doing before you enter the World of Non-Doing. This is key, as it allows some of the guilt and worry you might have about doing nothing to take a vacation, as well. Some ways I did this: I finished all my time-sensitive client work and emails before beginning. I announced on my blog and Twitter that I’d be away. I called my mama and my best friend so they wouldn’t think I’d perished.
  • Put it in the calendar. There’s a big, fat nothing in my calendar for that weekend. It’s beautiful. And it helped me to feel even more committed to (you guessed it) nothing.
  • Call in support. I talked to Mary about this extensively before committing fully to the non-doing time. I made it really, really clear that I was going to be completely out of commission for the weekend. I’d be unavailable for social engagements. I wouldn’t be grocery shopping or having emotional conversations. She graciously picked up my slack, but if she hadn’t, I would have done what I needed to do either before or after the nothing happened.
  • Be intentional about it. I wanted to make this time as special and self-nurturing as I could. So I checked out books from the library (fiction books, which I almost never read). I lovingly arranged the pillows on the couch for myself. I slowly, mindfully made myself each cup of tea I drank. This allowed me to separate the time from, say, toodling around the internet when I really should be sleeping, which I don’t find to be particularly restful or rejuvenating.
  • Give yourself buckets of permission. Even though I knew I needed this non-doing time, I still felt guilty about taking it. I felt guilty beforehand. I felt guilty during. I felt guilty after. Each time a wave of guilt would surface, I’d meet it with as much permission as I could muster. And then I’d continue with my plan to do nothing. There’s plenty of pressure in our culture to do. I’ve done plenty of doing in my day. I reminded myself, again and again, that I’m allowed to step away from doing for a moment.

So that’s how I did it. It was wonderful. I’m now incorporating more nothing into my life, because I’m convinced it’s the fountain of youth/joy/goodness. And in case it’s not already obvious, I highly recommend doing nothing to you.

Comments: Today I’m welcoming hoorays and sighs for the gloriousness that is non-doing. I’m welcoming your experiences with doing nothing, past and future. And I’m welcoming any questions you have, because nothing happens to be my new favorite topic to discuss.

*Super-cool photo courtesy of Mary.

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coming out about depression at work

Written on February 2, 2012 by in on being highly sensitive, on feeling our feelings

“One last thing,” I say.

“I just want to let you know that . . . I’ve been having a hard time.”

I flick my gaze back to his general area, briefly, but he’s looking down. I continue.

“I’m depressed, so if you notice that I’ve been working really slowly or seem like I’m out of it, that’s why. I just want you to know I really am trying.”

I glance at him again, and he’s looking back at me easily, like we’re talking about preparing for a meeting. He’s just the same as he was a moment ago. His eyebrows aren’t turned down in pity or bunched in confusion. His expression is perfectly normal.

My boss doesn’t think I’m an alien because I have depression and I’m telling him about it.

I remember to breathe.

. . .

I’ve been feeling depressed lately. I don’t really know why. It probably has something to do with the stress, but I can’t be sure. Usually when I’m feeling depressed, I try to avoid talking and writing about it too much. But Esme’s writing about her mental health stuff always buoys me, especially when I’m feeling down, so I figured I’d try being more open about it here. It seems logical to me that if her writing about bipolar disorder helps me feel less alone, maybe my writing about depression will help somebody else feel less alone. Right?

I realized yesterday, when I had the conversation above, that this is the third time I’ve come out to an employer about depression. It was no less scary the third time than it was the first. It was very quick, though, each time. Simple. Almost a non-issue, despite my inability to breathe properly until it was over.

For me, the first couple times, it was about necessity. At my first job out of college, I told my boss that I had a “weekly doctor’s appointment” when I needed to go to therapy. Naturally, she thought I was dying, so I quickly told her I was just depressed, not on my death bed (even if I did feel as if I was dying).

The second time, I was at a job where the pace of work was frenetic. People noticed when you took your lunch away from your desk, much less left to go to therapy or took a day off. I felt that I had to tell my boss why I had taken more than one last-minute day off recently. There didn’t seem to be any other way for me to explain why I was calling in sick when we were facing so many deadlines all the time.

This time, it wasn’t necessary. My boss doesn’t mind when I take days off, and the head of our department actually insists that we take all our vacation days each year. But my brain has been working at the pace of a snail lately, and I wanted my boss to know that I do care about my work, and that I’m still trying my best.

I’m so glad, now, that I had that sixty-second conversation yesterday. It was so tiny, so simple, so surface-level. It didn’t change anything, not really. But it let me know that I don’t always have to hide my difficulties from everyone, even my coworkers. I’m allowed to be human, even at work. Before that conversation, I didn’t think I’d be able to make it through the rest of the work day. But after it, I surprised myself by lasting until 6pm (which is the end of the day in my office), and actually getting things done before leaving.

And the last thing my boss said to me?

“If you need to take days off, that’s totally fine. You don’t need to think of an excuse or anything. Just take time off if you need it.”

Some things are much less of a big deal than I think they are. I only ever find that out, of course, once I stop mulling them over in my head and actually speak the words aloud to another human.

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