Scarcity Is an Intimacy Problem
A confession about pleasure, discipline, and the wealth that followed
I spent years wondering why my wealth wouldn’t move. I was doing the work, building the business, showing up, and still hitting the same ceiling. It wasn’t until I looked at my body that I found where the blocks were hiding. There were three of them, and not one had anything to do with my bank account. This essay is the full confession – what I found, what I changed, and what shifted when I did. The first block is free to read. The remaining two are behind the paywall because this is the kind of work I only share with the women who are in the room with me.
The Vibrator I Couldn’t Put Down
I had a vibrator for years. A brand had gifted it to me, and it sat there charged and ready for the nights when my body felt restless and my mind needed to shut off. I’d feel the urge, go to my room, turn it on, rub one out, and go back to whatever I was doing. It would take me ten minutes, sometimes less, then the drawer would close and the night would continue as though nothing happened.
I never thought about what I was doing with my body during those ten minutes because I wasn’t doing anything with my body. The vibrator was doing it for me. My hands were merely holding a device instead of touching my body. I was completely absent from the most intimate act I could have with myself, outsourcing it to something that buzzed through the build-up, skipped the depth, and delivered a surface-level orgasm that left nothing behind except the brief satisfaction of release.
What I didn’t realize, and what took me a long time to see, is that this pattern was training my body for how it received everything, including money.
When your body learns that the fastest route to satisfaction is something plugged into a USB port, it stops trusting its own hands. It forgets that it was designed to feel deeply without assistance and starts to believe that depth requires something outside of itself to make it happen. That belief doesn’t stay in the bedroom. It leaks into how you earn, how you hold money, and how you allow yourself to receive anything good without immediately rushing through it to get to the next thing.
I was doing creative work at the time, yet I never once connected my orgasms to my creativity. They lived in separate rooms of my life and the idea that the two could feed each other would’ve sounded absurd to me. But that’s because the orgasms I was having weren’t connected to anything. A vibrator doesn’t ask you to be present or breathe into the intensity as it rises or direct the energy somewhere intentional. It asks you to hold still and let it do the work, and in exchange, you get an orgasm that evaporates the moment it’s over.
Everything changed on a trip to Mexico City, where I walked into a store and found a mahogany obsidian crystal wand that I almost didn’t buy. I left without it but couldn’t stop thinking about it, and went back the next day because my body wasn’t going to leave the country without it.
The experience was nothing like the vibrator because there was no fast track to release. The wand was cool stone that warmed slowly against my body, and because there was nothing vibrating, I had to be the one creating the sensation. I had to move slowly, feel what was happening inside my body, stay present with it instead of zoning out while a device did the work. The wand didn’t take me anywhere on its own. It went where I took it, at the pace my body set, and that created an intimacy with myself that I’d never felt with the vibrator.
My practice became intentional in a way it had never been before. I started using my orgasms to channel energy toward what I was building. And I’m not talking about some vague manifestation ritual where I thought about money while I came. I’m talking about what happens when your body learns to generate pleasure slowly and stay present through it without reaching for something external to finish the job. Your body learns that it is the source. That everything it needs to feel deeply and fully can come from inside itself without a device doing the work. And that lesson changes how you relate to money, creativity, and receiving in ways I genuinely did not expect.
Money moved after that. My body became one that could hold sensation without discharging it immediately, and that same body started holding money differently too. The capacity for depth that I’d been bypassing with a vibrator for years was finally online, and it turned out that capacity wasn’t just sexual. It was financial, creative, and spiritual all at once, and it had been waiting for me to stop numbing my way past it.
Look, I’m not anti-vibrator. Plenty of women use them alongside everything else in their practice and their connection to their body is alive and well. The vibrator becomes a problem when it’s the only thing you reach for, when your hands have forgotten what your own skin feels like, when you need a motor to do what your body was designed to do on its own. That kind of disconnection doesn’t stay in the bedroom. Your wealth feels it too, even if you’ve never connected the two.
The Men I Was Fucking
I spent years not being honest about this and it cost me more money than I care to calculate. I was fucking broke men. And I don’t mean men who were temporarily between jobs or going through a rough patch – although any man with money problems has no business being inside you. I mean men whose entire relationship with money was scarcity, chaos, and avoidance, and I was letting them inside me on a regular basis as though that exchange was free.