orgasmic rage: a sensual guide to reclaiming wrath through the body❤️🔥
how to alchemize anger into personal pleasure
Aries season scorched me open like past diaries laid upon a fire.
My nervous system cracked at the core, dysregulated, and drowning in rage stitched with grief. My family lit the match. Old triggers and ancient wounding. I found myself at Hekate’s crossroads again, with a full-bodied wrath for the lack of humanity I was forced to witness. I pulled cards and talked myself down from confrontation, wondering the true meaning behind the lesson of it all.
Spirit didn’t let me wallow in confusion. They whispered, “you’re not here to sit on a spiritual high horse.”
How could it be? I didn’t feel like I was being self-righteous by pointing out insensitivity? But that was the answer I was searching for.
Just because I’ve transmuted generations of heartbreak doesn’t give me the crown to condemn the judgmental. True healing is letting go of the need to fix others.
Rage was not mine to wield as a sword of superiority, but as a torch of remembrance. A body-led flame meant to burn through me, not at those around me. I had to let go of the martyr complex. I had to stop trying to rescue everyone from their shadows just because I could see them painted on with thick sludge. I had to see people as they are, not to punish, not to pedestal, but to witness. I had to release myself from the burden of other’s wrongdoings. To understand the full, brutal, beautiful spectrum of human nature, even in adversity.
I found myself wanting to escape the grief as much as I was warmed by its fire. I knew running away wasn’t the answer and it didn’t mean that I couldn’t handle the weight of the lesson before me. I was remembering. I remembered what it felt like to be judged before I could come to my own understanding. I remembered the feelings of recoil as I pointed my fingers away from my own shadows. How it feels to be the prosecuted and the prosecutor; the villainized and the villain.
I used to be afraid of my own rage, the damage I can do if I dared unleashed my wrath onto the world. It took years of regret to realize that I could fall into rage’s arms and know it was my inner teen holding me close—looking down at my rosy cheeks, bruised with salty tears, saying “you’ve got the right to be mad.”
Rage wasn’t my enemy nor did it need to be a catalyst for harm, it was a sacred potion for alchemy. A rite of reclamation. A remembering that erupts not to destroy, but to liberate my spirit. By not running away from its billowing desire to be felt, I could connect its wisdom back into my body, my purpose, and my truth.
Rage demands presence, surrender, and a willingness to feel it in its entirety to be released, just like the Big O.
the recipe for orgasmic rage
serves: 1 soul on fire
prep time: however long you’ve been suppressing your rage
pairs well with: salty tears and sacred movement
ingredients:
1 tablespoon of bitterness, aged
a pulse that won't be ignored
blood that remembers
a clenched jaw aching to speak
a river of unshed tears
one honest breath
instructions:
Be curious about the heat before you name it.
what is your body desiring in this moment? It could be a voice, an integration, a remembrance, or a moment of stillness. What is this moment revealing to you about the truth you’ve buried under sacrifice and conformity?
Let the pressure build. don’t stir, don’t fix. feel.
trying to suppress your rage will only force its desire upward and more violently. to ease its regurgitation, swallow intentionally.
Grant your body permission to erupt.
feel into your vessel and allow it the space to scream. cry. grunt. dance. visualize. find a safe outlet to release your rage without harming yourself or others in the process.
Do not justify the sacred release. It doesn’t need approval.
a reminder to feel your feelings without needing to intellectualize its meaning or purpose for being there in the first place.
When the ecstasy arrives——don’t stop.
as your tears fall and your voice cracks, know that your body is actively transmuting the initial curiosity into a full-fledge cathartic release.
Let your body flush.
when the wave crashes, ground your energy with breath. feel your heart pumping and your chest heaving as a greeting back into your body.
Rest. Your rage has done its holy work.
give yourself the time to thank your body for its undying devotion to your pleasure.
You were born with a divine heat of desire to be fully actualized.
You are the exact temperature required to boil generations of silence into sacred steam. This is the part where you stop apologizing for the noise your heart makes when it remembers your truth.
Rage is not chaos, it’s a channel.
It’s where grief stops whispering and starts moaning.
So allow it to come.
The inner fire. The tears. The pulse in your throat.
Let the generations of rage open the gates to pleasure and liberation.
Hungry for more?
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from self-care to self-worship: how to start your devotion journey 🌹
Imagine if you loved yourself with the same fire, devotion, and obsession you crave from others. What if you could capture the butterflies before a first date and infuse it into your morning rituals?
It is utterly amazing how the universe works. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not even sure how I ended up in the villain vault, but I am glad I’m here. The amount of pure rage that I feel almost on a daily basis as the world burns is super uncomfortable. But as you stated, And as my therapist has stated we need to feel because it’s so much easier to run away. And just this year, have I finally given up on trying to fix people who don’t deserve my help, and who I don’t need to help.
You’re willingness to be open and express those deep and raw emotions as what keeps me, and others coming back. You’re real. There’s no show.
This piece hit me hard, especially this section "I used to be afraid of my own rage, the damage I can do if I dared unleashed my wrath onto the world. It took years of regret to realize that I could fall into rage’s arms and know it was my inner teen holding me close—looking down at my rosy cheeks, bruised with salty tears, saying “you’ve got the right to be mad.”"
I've been so resistant to reaching out to inner teen but she's been on my mind a lot lately, I'm taking this as the sign I needed to stop hiding her away. Thank you for sharing 🖤