OhJoySexToy

The Work

Added 2021-08-18 19:28:26 +0000 UTC

Yesterday Matt and I spent a few hours hauling branches and raking plant trash with a handful of my studiomates. Wait, was it yesterday or the day before? My sunblock mixed with my sweat, coating my body in this slimy, slippery goo that was half repulsive, half fascinating to me. My flesh would smoosh together and I was like “ew!” and then “cool.” and then “ew” again.

It felt good to work towards a tangible goal using the power of my body. It wasn’t until I took my gloves off at the end that I saw I had grown and burst a blister in that nook between my thumb and pointer finger. The skin that had domed it looked like melted wax from being squished to the far side from rubbing against the rake’s handle.

I felt human for the first time in days. My studiomates, my husband, and I were sweating and hauling and cutting and bleeding and working together to clear out the yard of the widow of our studio member who died suddenly and way too young a few months ago. She’s getting the property ready to sell, I think? Something like that.

When quarantine started, my studio connected digitally to support each other from a distance. Email chains, chats, video calls. I disappeared. I needed a break from some of the old relationship dynamics that hurt. I’ve been a part of this studio for well over a decade now. I joined in my early 20s and I’m 38 now. Relationships grow and change. Toes get stepped on. I needed space to myself.

Something something community. Something something what really matters in life. Something something something.

This must have happened a couple days ago, because my blister spot is dry and already healing. I’m back to feeling drugged and not-quite-human-anymore from crying about my stupid life. It really takes a toll on you, doesn’t it?

I can still use my body. I can still be a part of my community. I can still participate in things that are bigger than me.