Death as Liberation

My dream has always been to help people. When I was a kid, I would massage my family because I had the height and strength of a 13-year-old when I was 10 and the $5 reward. My family immigrated from the Philippines in 2000 when I was 5; I couldn’t contribute financially so this was the least I could do for my parents and my closest brother. I'm not going into the intricacies of my family dynamic because I've healed from that trauma. My biggest traumas are becoming disabled in America and sexual assaults. I've beautifully recovered from my own sexual traumas, though I'm still fighting for my own rights as a disabled person; then add a business for the cherry on top

I'm currently in grad school for sex coaching and am surprising my peers and instructors with the speed of my completion with the modules. I'm paying my own tuition and have a 15-month payment plan with my savings and sex work. I was really hoping to be employed, but I did some research and most successful disabled people in America have their own business, entrepreneurship, solopreneurship, and/or have different sources of income. It's a never ending hustle.

I have been in the sex education sector for years now and I do include my sex work. Sex workers are social workers. I have had clients who are decent and have thanked me for showing them that it's ok to look, but with a respectful gaze. I've been complimented for my online sex work advocacy by my own clients, even changing their attitudes and beliefs towards ethical sex work. I feel a lot more comfortable with sex work, however, that's mostly because of the awareness of sex work.

Sex coaching is very different from sex work, mostly for safety and legality. Sex coaching is also very personal from both clientele and coach. There must be trust established. Unlike sex therapy, sex coaches can physically touch our clients (with the proper certification for some form of bodywork certification). Ideally, I would really like to incorporate my sex work and sex coaching because I have learned a lot from my years of sex work and education history. This would need an additional certification for sex surrogacy, but why can't my years of experience simply because I don't have fiscal access to more training.

If you are disabled and want to work in America, forget about it! The sheer safety hazard alone makes sex work so scary currently. Especially for queer Asians with undiagnosed brain inflammation; I happen to be a part of this demographic. My disability has been very debilitating since it affected my right hand, inabiling writing functions. I am currently practicing body regulation for stress and extreme self-care. Sex coaching is my passion and the doubt my family has for my success only fuels my grind. I jokingly respond with, "well then I die," when asked about my uncertain future because this country does not care about my life. For many disabled people, death is a form of liberation because living is simply too much to handle.

There's a Big Difference Between Radical Acceptance and Tolerating Abuse

My family has always been loud due to the following: hearing loss on my father's side, my mother being from Batangas, and having anger issues. I cried when I was in 3rd grade because my mother got frustrated and slapped me for not understanding the multiplication table. Yeesh, no wonder her and I only talk when my brother's not home.

I hear their whispers. "Oh she quit because she wants to focus on her graduate studies," my brother says to a family friend or "alam mo na naman," from my mother, roughly translating into "well, you know why again," indicating no hard work and not understanding that I'm choosing to live on my own terms. I have a romantic date next week with one of my closest friends and I asked my brother if she could sleep over. He was wondering why I was asking, and even instigated on why I only hung out with my friends outside of our home. I responded honestly and replied, "because I don't feel comfortable being myself around you. There's all different versions of me and I can't even tell which parts are actually me." Silence. We didn't speak until the next day.

I'm now doubting my radical acceptance of him because it's not fair that I am the only one willing to change. Every time I privately correct him on GSRD/LGBTQIA+ terms or pronouns, he barks at me and says, "it's just us!" Unfortunately, yes. It is just him and I and I bet he hates it. I know I hate censorship, but he doesn't have to worry about that because he's older, the man, and has money. What I hate most is the lack of emotional support, but I mean, what can I expect? My mother doesn't even believe I was sexually abused by a different older brother! Additionally, she loves bringing up my past, but whenever I bring mine up, I'm shushed to the side.

Anyways,
Happy birthday to the other person who doesn't cause drama in my family,
My father.

Why The Last of Us is So Important to Me (Spoilers ahead)

I was hyped when I first found out about The Last of Us getting a TV show and it was going to be on HBO. Home of some of my favorite series: Euphoria, True Blood, The Leftovers, Insecure, and Big Little Lies; the list goes on. In addition to that, Neil Druckmann, who led the development of The Last of Us is also directing it. He also happens to be co-president of the game developer, Naughty Dog, known for Jak and Daxter and Uncharted (yes, THAT Tom Holland movie). 

My right hand doesn't function very well and it hasn't held a penis in more than 6 years, maybe more! My right hand is stiff and is limited to a few activities: holding a bag, holding the base of a bottle to open it, holding the steering wheel while I'm driving (probably the most useful), and protecting me when I fall. I can't even hold down a piece of paper when I write with my left and I legit have to use a paperweight. It's weird how my left hand picks and chooses what it does. Sometimes, it has a mind of its own, twitching and not listening to what my brain is telling me to do. 

The Last of Us was the last game that I played and fully completed on my nephew's PS4... twice. Since my disability, I've found YouTubers who play video games and I like games who DON'T talk during the cut scenes. Shout-out to theRadBrad for being my go-to person! I've watched his playthrough 3 times. What I'm saying is that I really fucking love this game, okay!? Since I've watched it many many times, I know THE scene. I CRY EVERY TIME AND I STILL DID. I'm in so deep, I listened to the podcast on Spotify. 

Everything is perfect in the pilot. The narcissist inside me is putting myself in the current character's point of view, Sarah. We get to see Sarah a lot more, therefore, we feel the impact so much more when we, especially Joel, lose(s) her. The video game was already so diverse, then they went with a POCs' character angles, which worked perfectly well. This game came out at such a pivotal moment in my life; the 2017 limbo of my life when I was going through the process of becoming disabled. I don't quite remember when my right hand just stopped working, but at least it can still hold stuff. I have this running joke about my mouth becoming like a second hand which begs the question: is this a blowjob or a handjob? 

My Relationship with The Miss Universe Beauty Pageant

My full name is Ilah Kristel I. Mallari, Ilah Kristel is my first name. Yes, having two first names is very common in the Philippines, especially for girls. "I" is the beginning of my mother's maiden name and Mallari is my father's last name. It's really not that complicated, but for some reason people don't understand.

The Philippines has a mild obsession with the Miss Universe parents. My first name will forever be an origin debate, I am 100% in love with the story of my second name. I was born in 1994, my second name, "Kristel," came from my family's favorite contestant, Miss Belgium. Shown below is a photo of her taken from a popular Filipino website and the article was published in 2016. Yesterday marked another victory for America, but also the Philippines. Ms. Texas, R'Bonney Gabriel, a 28 year old Filipino-American who also has her own brand of clothing was crowned Miss Universe last night. I'm not here to discredit Ms. Gabriel's success, but I am bothered by the fact that she is praised for being mixed and how Filipinos love white and Filipino mixed race babies. I dove deeper and found some astonishing discoveries.

My family's interest in Miss Universe really only appears when there seems to be a potential winner for the Philippines. It used to be a much bigger event amongst Filipinos, maybe it still is, but perhaps its popularity has dwindled at the rise of social media. Body activists and even contestants themselves frown upon pageantries and the misrepresentations of what a healthy woman looks like. In addition to this, this year's Miss Universe is claimed to be rigged. As the host announces the winner, there was not much shock as seen in past pageantries. This is what you have been training for and working hard on for the majority of your life and your reaction couldn't be less graceful than me having unsatisfactory sex with a man I clearly have no interest in? Most of these women cry! They are shocked to their toned core! 

Thank goodness I love myself now and that my niece is smart enough to not listen to those body messages. My nephew's body dysphoria, well, that's for another blog post. 

The Absolutely True Story of My Most Excruciating PMDD Experience

(TW/CW: SUICIDAL IDEATION)

My last day of menstruation was November 18, 2022 and it was only three days of light bleeding. I was not concerned since I had a new IUD inserted May 2022 and lack of menses isn't a worry for me. Considering this is my second IUD (the Mirena IUD), it is common and normal to have the absence of menstruation. In the last couple of months, I have experienced heightened depression and anxiety, lack of motivation, and in an overall funk!

I knew something was wrong when I suddenly had an intrusive and nonchalant thought, "what if I don't take up from this nap... I do have the pills for them." My inner self was shocked, but I was so mentally exhausted that I fell asleep immediately. When I woke up, I didn't want to get up so I slept again. Mind you, I went to bed around 11pm the night before and woke up around 6am because I like getting things done before noon so I can relax and simply take on less work after 1pm to 2pm. I was awakened by my brother, telling me it's time for dinner. This was the day before he left for Palm Springs on the 5th.
I started day 1 of my cycle this past Sunday.

My PMDD had never been like this in my 3 years of self-diagnosis. I have never missed a month without getting my period either. My PMDD is so debilitating that I lay in bed until my pelvic area isn't feeling tender anymore. I take naps because I don't want to be awake to feel the pain. As soon as I start feeling good about my life and myself, the PMDD cycle comes right back. I'm usually clueless too, even though it's a monthly process; blaming it on exterior factors like stressful situations which only adds fire to the body inflammation. No wonder the holidays weren't that bad in 2022!  

The Precipitation of Disability

I love the rain; the pitter-patter sound of each droplet hitting my roof, the Earthy scent it brings, and the rain heavily reminds me of the light flooding in the Philippines which allowed me to play in the water during my childhood home life in the Philippines. Since disability though, the rain means inaccessibility. It means staying at home without food, at times, and ration. Sometimes, I sleep to avoid eating lunch. San Francisco is expecting light flooding today and if I needed food, I would need groceries delivered. I wish I had friends in the city (with cars) who will go grocery shopping for me. Mutual aid is still very hard to come by when other people in my life don't live in the city and, those who do live in the city are busy or can't afford the gas, etc. or I'm just bad at asking for help. The pattern trickles to depression and depression leading to unproductivity. I cannot afford to be unproductive right now. Since I quit my job, my SSI money is basically my tuition (I'm on a 15-month payment plan). To stress me out more, the module I'm currently on is all about the business side of sex coaching; taxes, budgeting, conscious spending, local laws, etc.

Adding to the stress, my family always talks about money. 3 of my immediate family members, my mother and 2 brothers (including the one that currently controls my financial life. My SSI money goes to HIS bank account), are accountants and in the Philippines, it is one of the hardest exams to be certified in public accountancy. They used to publicly publish the names of those who passed until there was an uptick in suicide rates for those who didn't pass. I truly believe if accounting wasn't this competitive, Filipinos would be known more for being accountants than nurses.

If you asked anyone how I was doing, on the outside, I am calm and contained; I haven't even cried because my antidepressants won't let me! Inside my head is a different story. It's starting to cause physiological problems now like insomnia, lethargy, and imposter syndrome. The last one being the hardest to overcome especially when I don't see a steady flow of income.

Going Out with a (C)literal Bang

2022 was a year. I don't remember most of it because not much has happened. Our maybe life has gotten too monotonous and my life is lacking spontaneity. Which is why I was particularly excited about New Year's Eve. 

I got to check something off my New Year's Eve bucket list when I lived through my professor fantasy at the Hilton in Union Square last night. I didn't necessarily "go out with a bang" because, unfortunately, I was forced to rearrange my room due to a leak (it had rained so much the the water managed to seep through my walls, damaging my Abby Road album)! Perfect timing, too, because my mini projector was finally here) . My spoonie-ass fell asleep at 11:30pm. I was sooooooo tired and I had 100 mg of THC in the form of a brownie and I was out!

Due to the cleaning and rearranging hours before my night with Daddy Dean Lawyer (I got there around 7 because he prepped the room for me ♡⁠). I was exhausted and didn't even make it to midnight. Silver linings do exist though because I found my gold ring that my family has given me shit for “slipping out of my skinny, chicken fingers!” They thought I was reckless because, 1) they think I don't care about the stuff they give me, and 2) they don't see the change in my lifestyle to live peacefully amongst this inaccessible country. 

----------TL;DR----------

I finally got to live my fantasy of staying at a fancy hotel with a Professor of a law, technically Dean (⁠✿⁠ ⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠). An escort, if you will. Go sub to my Onlyfans if you want to see what we were up to…

A Banana, Cucumber, and even a Curling Iron

A banana, cucumber, and even a curling iron (not plugged in)! What do they all have in common? They've all been inside me. It started with the banana. I would put condoms on them for literal protection and my high school boyfriend and I used to Skype. There was only one sex store within a 30-mile radius from the shitty, always-closed location. Even if there were more sex stores and boutiques near me at that time, I was still underaged! "Hey mommy, can you buy me something from the sex store?" My mother would've slapped the Catholic back into me. She would have locked me up, eat the key, shit the key out, and flush the toilet.

Personally, I don't mind buying my niece a sex toy if she asked. In fact, I would be thrilled; first, because she came to me for pleasure and two, she trusts me enough to ask. As soon as she turns 18, I'm taking her to Good Vibrations (if it interests her. I don't want to push my beliefs onto her just like what my family did to me with religion). She still prefers to not go to church and that's what I call "hope." 

A Reminder For This Season

I loathe this time of year, and it’s not because of seasonal affect disorder.

I'm allowing rest and release this holiday season. This time has always felt like the trauma Olympics. Unlike Christmases past which have been like literal fire on my skin. It's Christmas Eve in the Philippines right now and I am trying my hardest to stay safe. I plan on cleaning my room hardcore parkour today and intend on going to mass at 6pm just to sing Christmas music. /Singing brings me joy and if I have healed from my religious trauma. I identify as atheist/agnostic/Jesus was black and didn't do what these white Jesus followers want me to do. I plan on cleaning my plant area and invest in my space. I don't have friends who can take me in, which is why I crave a partner with an open family to do so. That's so sad to type out... But it's the truth! I want to be part of a “family” so bad. I only have my housemate, but we grow distant every year. I want to be a holiday nomad. Now that I'm a full-time sex coach, I hope I get the privilege to travel for the holidays. Just drop me off in an accessible town and leave me the fuck alone. Be kind to those who may have trauma around this time.

I Quit My Job

Please look at my Instagram post to catch yourself up!

So you're all caught up! Yeah, I quit because I have the privilege to and my day job was adding stress to my life. Indifferently, I will have to go back to sex work. This means I need to be more proactive with my Onlyfans... again. Additionally, my family thinks I'm being "lazy" for quitting my job. Why do I have to put up with a shitty job? Especially when I've worked so hard on this sex coach career path? I realized I can legitimately call myself a sex education! All these trainings and certifications and I'm still suffering with imposter syndrome. That stops now! I have my first 1-on-1 session today! YES! Our session doesn't start until 2pm (currently 10am) and I'm so excited. Not just to help, but getting paid to help! I’m researching and taking notes and I’m so excited; I already showered and applied my makeup and I’ll update y’all this Thursday, omitting my client’s identity. I will also ask if I can record it for my own critique.

A few updates: I'll do a blog/Insta posts Tues and Thurs.