Receiving a Pussy Massage during Trump's Inauguration

It’s Sunday just before noon on January 12th 2025. I’m wearing a facemask even though it’s clear blue skies knowing there are invisible toxins floating around from the recent fires that ravaged through LA.

I go to my signature X dance class at Kinrgy and let out my rage on the dance floor.

The fear, anguish and tears are uncontrollable and I just let my body feel through it.

It’s the only place that is keeping my mind sane for 45 minutes during the overwhelm of this past week.

I’ve barely slept and learned too many new survival skills for my mind to integrate at one time.

I don’t know if LA is a safe place to live right now and it’s breaking my heart.

Did I pick the right place to call “home” after 38 years of searching for what that word even meant to me?

The sirens, helicopters and neighborhood text threads are pumping with profiling and fear based prejudice.

Multiple generations of families are all at once existing with nothing but themselves and the clothes on their back.

My trauma response as a helper doesn’t know when it’s time to take a break and it’s breaking me.

Upon returning home from class, I wrap myself in linen sheets dressed in my sweaty yoga pants and sports bra and pass out on the bead. My 10 month old kittens traipse over my body as they look to burrow next to me.

I am out.

After three hours of deep sleep, I wake up to my stomach in knots. The porcelain goddess had already received three visits from me that day going #2 and she was ready for another visit. I’m still exhausted, dehydrated and release whatever is left in my body. It’s as if I am being cleared out for something to emerge.

I go back to bed at 7:30pm and sleep for twelve glorious hours.

Upon awakening, I realize today is the day. Trump is getting inaugurated into the oval office to become president.

Rahi and I are also scheduled to meet today.

God I want to cancel. I don’t even know if I have the energy to drive all the way to Santa Monica from Hollywood let alone have my body massaged.

I shower, drink some pedia-lyte and get in my car pointed in the direction of Santa Monica.

As I enter Rahi’s living room, I go to my safe couch and share I have been coping since the fires broke out and how my nervous system has been completely dis-regulated.

“I don’t know how much I can receive today. My body is really struggling to be here”.

As always, Rahi is understanding and offered to let my body lead in what it wants and does not want and we will go from there.

Laying atop the massage table fitted with a foam mattress, I my body down regulates.

“This is exactly what you need,”, my body whispers to me.

Completely empty, I allow my body to lead and follow it’s whispers to receive more nurturing care and support. Once we have moved through the NeuroAffective touch and sensual massage, my body feels ready to receive more.

My brain is nervous as we approach a growth edge.

“I want to explore my pelvis area and receive genital mapping. My body is ready.”

Rahi goes through the layers of consent required and what genital mapping internally and externally will entail.

“You are in charge the entire time. I will ask permission to approach the table and once consent is received, I will straddle the table and you will put your legs over mine. Each step of the way, I will be asking for consent as you are in charge. Would you like me to wear gloves?”.

“Yes”, I reply.

I feel like I am in anatomy class in high school and I am the cadaver we are studying. Only this body (my body) is coming back to life.

Rahi leverages himself up on the table and I lay my legs over his. I feel myself hitting an edge and I breathe through it. He massages my upper thighs to build sensation and asks for permission to approach the pelvis area and to verbally say when I am ready.

I offer permission and his hands make their way externally around my pelvic area. Specifically my vulva. As I am currently writing, I had to google “vagina anatomy so I could remember the correct terms of my female body.

With each gentle move of his hands, Rahi communicates where he is going next so that I stay present to receiving.

“My hands are now moving in a circular direction on top of the pubic mound and I am making my way to the external crease of your vulva. From a scale of zero, no sensation to 10 full climax, what are you feeling?”.

“A two”.

Is my pussy broken? The torturous judgement comes to the surface of my brain because I am not feeling a higher number on the scale of sensation but I do not share this information out loud.

“Great”, replies Rahi.

We continue to explore and I again feel as though it is just me and my body in that room learning and exploring the depths of my physical sensitivity. After years of giving my body away to men who did not have the skills to care for it, I am coming home.

Once internal, I am shown through sensation where the K, A and G spot are located. We build up sensation and come back down as I get comfortable with how a woman’s body is meant to receive pleasure naturally. We explore the numbness of my cervix so I can understand the baseline of where I am to build back sensation.

Over and over I am asked, “Where are you on the scale?” and I reply with what feels true in the moment.

All of a sudden, Rahi’s finger touches a pinprick of pain.

“Ouch”, I exclaim. There is a tightly bound muscle of energy armored within my internal wall.

What happens next is nothing short of a perfectly orchestrated miracle by a force outside my understanding.

To be continued….