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Saturday, 20 December 2014

It has been a month

To the day? What day? I have no idea! The last post is what I'm using for reference, but I'm guessing that's not entirely accurate either. 

SI and I are now officially in a relationship. It's all but facebook official. We're exclusive, we talk about the future in ways that could scare many others and make them cringe, we enjoy each other's company, pamper one another, he's met my parents and extended local family, we have sex with enough regularity that I think I've got a UTI and it will have to wait until I'm in a land with more affordable healthcare. We said "I love you." 

It was yesterday morning. We woke up, in bed, and we cuddled a bit. He used the restroom and came back to bed. Then I used the restroom (for the nth time... like I said, cystitis), and I came back to bed. When I hopped in I said "Hello, you." He asked me to repeat myself and I did. He said "I love you too." It was a comical misunderstanding stemming from the fact that we'd been dying to say the words for a while. He was the tiniest bit upset about not being the one to say it first, seeing how he felt it first and was the first to hint at wanting to say it, so I let on that I actually hadn't technically said "I love you" when he thought I had. 

That's where we are. That's life now. We talk about vacations together. He wants to get my parents a Christmas present. I'm trying to find him doctors. I cook for him and he helps do some of my laundry. Aunt A doesn't like it much but now I practically live here and, you know what? I like it. It's closer to work. I get to wake up next to a wonderful man who loves me, who I love, and makes me visibly happier. So much so I'm (very irresponsibly) weaning myself off of the antidepressants, though that's technically also because I'm too ashamed to schedule an appointment with the psychiatrist. 

I love him. We fool around, play cyclops, coy and Spiderman, have tickle fights and silly moments where he licks my eyelids or makes fun noises with his mouth in mine. As of Thursday night, when he met the family here, and declared "So I guess we're serious" (technically for the second time, as he'd already Skyped with my parents on Monday), he calls me "babe" and "hon" and "sweetie" and I'm working on it, I swear I am, but all I can muster is "hon" and "babe" on rare occasion. He's sweet and affectionate and he communicates openly and honestly with me. There are few things he keeps to himself but, honestly, he shares more than I would expect anyone to and I can see how some things are just hard to voice. 

The sex is good. There are struggles, I'll admit, but they are for the most part beyond both of our controls. I wish I could have a greater part in his orgasms than turning him on, but I can understand him wanting to take care of himself and I like the fact that he knows what he likes. For now, I don't mind when he puts on a show for me. I'm working on being more adventurous and playful myself. I have to admit the prudishness is getting to me, a little, and sometimes it's hard to voice what I want, but I love the fact that he'll ask me and he will be vocal about what he likes and enjoys, setting a good example to follow. I don't know why I find it worth noting that today was my first time receiving oral and... well, let's just say I understand what the fuss is about. I wish I could reciprocate and get him off too, as I sometimes feel a bit insecure in my inexperience and lack of natural skill. It is off limits, though. What a predicament! Wanting to give your partner oral sex and being refused... Goodness knows I can't afford it, but I kind of want to give him an expensive Christmas gift. Something he can't afford but quite desperately wants. He'd never accept. All I can do for the time being is help with the smaller things so he can save up by himself. 

So there. We're officially a couple, he can picture us forming a family one day, I can at least see us making it through to the next Christmas (when we will hopefully be together), we are exclusive, serious and in it for the long term. This is a big series of firsts. 

He's my first real relationship. The first person to actually give me an orgasm. My first time with penetrative sex. My first time receiving oral sex. The first partner I formally introduce to family and bring to family reunions. The first person I have tickle wars with as an adult. The first person to say he can see himself growing old with me. The first person I trust with my computer (and all passwords stored there), my credit card and car. The first person I have felt safe being vulnerable with, whether that means being naked and trying to not care about my body image issues or speaking about the life with the As and breaking into tears. He's the first person I'll take compliments from on a daily basis. 

I have to be careful. YAP warned me SI will get too engrossed by the relationship and will leave his friends to the side. I am trying to make sure we get to go out with friends on our own time. I am trying to get along with his roommate and ease tensions when they come up in conversation regarding the roommate and the ex. I have to listen to actions rather than words. I have to be aware of any growing resentment from my 1950s need to take care of him and be his housewife or I will turn into his mother. I must remind myself of the differences rather than force-feed myself lies about how similar we are(n't). I should beware his interest in drinking. I should make sure I don't alienate my friends to be with him and keep myself from procrastinating so much because of all the time I spend with him instead of doing things I'm supposed to. 

Wednesday, 19 November 2014


We, uh... I can only describe it as "we had sex." It was dry humping, but he came and I was very turned on and it was the first time I ever engaged in sexual activity with another person with both of us trying to make the other reach orgasm. I didn't get there because I had to pee but that's besides the point for now. 

SI is the first person to fall asleep in my arms, to look me lovingly and say sweet things, to tell me he enjoys my company, to share in the intimacy of admitting to be emotionally broken. 

I told him about my insecurities regarding being objectified. I probably should have said "used." He's very afraid I think that of him and wanted to reassure me it's not the case with him and that he likes me for me besides being very attracted to me. He said he's had a wall up for a while because his ex made it hard for him to trust anyone and yet he feels comfortable being vulnerable with me. He said he felt connected to me.

We cuddled after agreeing we'd take it slow and wouldn't do anything I was uncomfortable with. He reinforced the thought of not wanting to be rude and do anything without my consent. I assured him my setbacks had nothing to do with him and I would stop him if he tried anything without my consent. After he fell asleep in my arms he woke up and we kissed. They were sweet kisses, the kind you'd give when you're about to start making love (as opposed to having sex). I noticed the kisses getting more intense on his part and I went with it. He asked if I'd like to unfasten my bra and I said yes. We grinded for a good while and when he came he let out a soft moan of "Oh, linaThumbe!" in my ear. I'm pretty sure that was it because he said he got there after being concerned with whether or not I was there yet. He really wanted to tend to my needs. 

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Insecurities, Part II

I had dinner with YAP tonight. I told him about the kiss. He expressed concerns. He's afraid I'll come out of this heartbroken because I care for SI more than he does for me. He's afraid SI is using me as a rebound, that SI is only superficially attracted to me, that SI is not ready for a relationship because he doesn't know how to live outside of one or in one, that SI is needy and I will end up being a mother more than a girlfriend. YAP pointed out that SI and I are opposites and that, though opposites attract, it's bound to create an imbalance in any sort of relationship. I'm worried for a number of reasons. 

I'm worried because out of all the hardships YAP described, I couldn't stop thinking about two things: YAP thinks we're going to end up together, and I liked it. I'm worried because YAP tried to scare me away and give me fair warning but I still want to go for it. SI is going through a lot? I want to help him through it. SI will want to spend a lot of time with me? I will want to spend a lot of time with him too. SI will break my heart? I'm fully aware. Well, maybe not fully, but definitely aware.

I keep going back to this reflection I was having last week during group therapy. I started thinking about something I read somewhere about the reason why we blush. We blush to signal submissiveness the same way dogs expose their bellies. We acknowledge the superiority of someone else and it's our nonverbal way of communicating "please, don't hurt me." Admitting embarrassment or vulnerability of any sort, by extension, seems to serve the same purpose. There's more to it, though. Dogs will usually hide when they're sick and stay in a safe place until they feel better. Except my little one used to cry when her belly ached and I'd comfort her through her cries. She wanted the attention and wanted to be taken care of. Beyond admitting "I'm weak, don't hurt me" it was also saying "help me." I couldn't ease her pain, really, but I'd like to think I was able to help her calm down a bit (except when I didn't, and I cried with her and I couldn't make her better and everything was wrong in the world). 

Bad trip down memory lane.

Back to where I wanted to go, admitting weakness is a way to ask for a safe space.

In my head, this all translates to "Tell SI about your worries, he'll ease them." But there's no proper way to bring this about. So, I guess I'm asking group. How much can I trust YAP's judgement? Do you suppose SI has had enough time to grow up since? Do you suppose he's nowhere near breaking out of the cycle YAP described? Is there any way for me to know if SI likes me for me or is that one of the things I have to play Orpheus and Eurydice for? To trust him is to be vulnerable to getting hurt if it turns out he's using me, and I can't check without ruining it. Is that how it works?

Then, there's...

Well, there was a full moon, and it was nice out, and the tree had Christmas lights. But there was no romantic conversation. We kissed to the sound of hip hop blaring from some car nearby and in between hearing drunk people across the street and worrying about them scratching his car. Cyrano would have been disappointed. SI's kisses were... they were cold. I hate admitting it. Much like D's, I guess. LesMisGuy's were warm, sweet and gentle in comparison (not that that meant anything at all). SI was passionate but a bit quick and hard to catch up with and he used his tongue and nibbled my lips and it was all well and good but... I guess I couldn't quite feel him in them? I wonder if he had his heart in it and I worry even more.

When SI and I talked about his ex I figured it couldn't be very hard to be better than her because she was controlling and manipulative and selfish. I figured I could do a much better job at being good to him. The thought didn't cross my mind: is SI good enough for me? Can he be good enough for me? All that seems to matter is that I like him and I want to be with him. But YAP raised a good point. Just because I'd be good for SI doesn't mean he'd be good for me. That thought is terrifying. Who is, then? Who do I deserve? 

Not D and his manipulative sex blackmail. Not LesMisGuy who wanted nothing to do with me after we kissed. Not SmTn (as much as it pains me to say it) who used me as an emotional mistress. Then who? Who, pray?

And SI knows a little bit about this (my bad luck with love so far and lack of experience). I wonder if he was thinking on how he could do better. I wonder if that's the reason he hasn't stopped talking to me just yet. I wonder if maybe he thought "those idiots!" the same way I thought "that bitch!" I wonder what his idea of a good partner is. I... I'm afraid I don't know what mine is. 

I'm scared, blog. I'm scared that I'm ultimately unlovable and I can't shake the feeling of impending doom that has replaced the "everything falls so nicely into place" I wanted to see before. I'm scared that no one sees me for me and loves it. I'm scared that I like SI and I know things about him but I don't truly know him. I'm scared that he doesn't know me and I don't know if he's tried to get to know me.

I'm not scared, blog. I'm terrified.

Monday, 10 November 2014


Here's the thing: we kissed. He and I kissed. We went out for coffee on Thursday night, we talked for hours, I told him I had a crush on him, he said he had a bit of a crush on me too, he wrapped one arm around me, I wrapped both of mine around him, our faces were close and, as we continued to talk about the drunk people on the other side of the street, our faces were just very close and we kissed.

I was ecstatic. I couldn't believe he liked me back. I couldn't believe we'd made it to the point where we got to kiss. I couldn't believe he'd said yes to going out on a real date with me (though the details were yet to be agreed upon).

One weekend later, I'm fearing the worst and it's LesMisGuy's fault.

There are differences, of course. He has actually shared a lot more with me than LesMisGuy ever did. He's shared his insecurities, fears, memories and troubles with me with a refreshing degree of honesty and straightforwardness that made me worry he thought of me as nothing more than a friend. I was never really friends with LesMisGuy. He and I can talk for long periods of time about anything. We get each other's humour. We enjoy each other's company. We can have intelligent conversations about a variety of subjects. There is an actual back and forth in our interactions. Sometimes, when I'm worried he's stopped answering my facebook messages and I'm feeling stupid about sending them, he'll apologise for not responding a couple of days later and acknowledge the fact that it may have upset me. I'll dismiss it out of politeness, but I like that he does it anyway. I've told him a lot of things. I'm not sure I've been as deeply honest as he has, but I feel comfortable telling him anything and everything.

Well... most anything and everything.

You see, I told him I fancied him and he already knew, yet he did nothing until I said it. Even then, I was the one to ask him out on a date afterwards. He did, in his defence, almost kiss me once and then I understood what he was going for and just went for it when our faces were close again. He did offer his arm and a reassuring embrace after admitting to liking me too. But he was also a bit silent and he asked how long I'd felt this way about him without revealing how long he's felt this way about me. I know it hasn't been as long, and I'm okay with it. I know he probably doesn't like me quite as much as I like him and I'm okay with it. I know his exgirlfriend was pushy and controlling and a bit manipulative and pretty much demanded to be in a relationship with him and I'm avoiding any kind of clinginess that can remind him of that.

We kissed on Thursday night (really Friday early morning). Friday afternoon I sent him a text message with a smiley face and he responded with another smiley face. I felt reassured because I'd wondered if I was supposed to say something after the fact when I got back and I didn't but then again he didn't either. At least the smiley face somehow indicated he was happy about it, right? ...Sort of? ......Maybe?

Saturday we spoke for a little while before he had to head out to work. At work, he started texting me because he was bored and was wondering what I was up to. I was tempted to go there but refrained because he explicitly said he didn't so much want to meet as was just bored. But I told my friends and they agreed to come with me to his workplace under the excuse of studying together. It was going well, I think, until things got busy and he got very stressed. My friends left us alone after he closed the store, maybe hoping something would happen. We talked a little about the grown up life but I felt awkward trying to hug him (even under the pretext of the cold weather we're enjoying) and he didn't try anything. We hugged goodbye as usual and left it at that. He said he'd come to tango on Sunday. He said he'd get off work at 6, go home to change and meet us at 7 for a while until he had to go to a friend's place around 9. And then he didn't show up for tango. And he didn't in any way contact me to let me know he wasn't coming.

I was planning on asking when he'd be free to go out on a date. I was planning on holding his hand while dancing, staring into his eyes and laughing and sharing a different kind of closeness this time. I was planning on maybe whispering in his ear "I have a crush on you" just to see him smile at what has to be one of the cheesiest jokes. I started planning ahead and I really shouldn't do that because planning ahead requires assumptions and assumptions are the one thing I can't make when it comes to people I fancy because any of my guesses will be biased.

I worry that going to his workplace was too much and it showed neediness. I worry that maybe I'm an awful kisser and he has absolutely no interest in helping me practice. I worry that he's just not that interested and is keeping up with me on a "why not?" basis rather than true interest. I'm worried because I like him a lot and I'm already invested in this and I know for a fact he's not supposed to like me back as much as I do him and he owes me nothing, yet I feel disappointed just thinking about the possibility. I'm worried about when we'll get to go out on that date because he agreed to it but we never settled on the details. He'll be working a lot this week and I will be working late most likely. If he's working until midnight, as is most likely, that doesn't leave a lot of time for us to go out on that date. Moreover, it really cuts down on our cheap/free date options and as much as I'd like to buy him lunch/dinner he will not be happy to have me pay for it. I wanted to do "watching the sunset" on a parking lot and just bring snacks but maybe there will not be a comfortable place to sit while we're there. My friends suggested sandwiches at the park, but then someone has to bring the sandwiches. 

I wish he would show more initiative. I wish he had ideas. I wish he would talk to me more and would come up with excuses to see me so I didn't have to use up all of mine. I wish he would call and just ask if I'd like to join him for coffee. I wish... I wish.

I'm not hoping he would, I'm wishing. Wishing

If that tells you nothing about how insecure I am, I'm not sure what will. Shall I give him a name? It almost feels wrong to, at this point, but I'll go ahead anyway. SI. 

Saturday, 1 November 2014

I need a hand from Richard Linklater

You know how many of Richard Linklater's movies have such lovely conversations that just flow naturally? Well, I've had a couple of those with him, but the issue of triggers has been bothering me. We can talk for hours and, indeed, it even seems like he not only enjoys but seeks my company (!!!) and then something about the conversation bothers me for days afterwards. *sigh* For the sake of privacy, I can't say much other than I love the warm fuzzy feelings, I love seeing him smile, talking to him, being close to him, hugging him and smelling like him. I'm a bit too afraid of doing anything that can get in the way of that. I still want to ask him out and I don't know how he'll respond to that. I don't just don't know. I'm a little afraid to tell him that he gets somewhat preferential treatment because I have feelings for him because part of the preferential treatment just comes from him being a nice person. I'm a little afraid to tell him I have a crush on him because I worry that him talking about his love life marked the boundary you're not supposed to cross when you go out on dates and, I know it was not a date, but we crossed it. I worry that I talked about my love life too and now he may not even consider the fact that I could fancy him. I worry that I've said the wrong things, too many things, or too many of the wrong things and he won't want to talk to me or see me anymore. I want to feel more connected to him. The walls were down Tuesday night but they were up again Wednesday afternoon. I want to be able to rejoice in the fact that he asked for advice/help with his Halloween costume. It made me feel special. I want to be able to rejoice in the fact that we can talk for hours at a time and he's said things like "we should do this again sometime." I want to think he can have feelings for me and I'm a little afraid he may not be ready to just yet. 


I started this post wanting to expand on all the triggers and the touchy subjects but I just can't. I can't write things down like this. It feels like a violation of his right to privacy. It also feels like I'm too out of shape and terrible at writing things down.

Friday, 24 October 2014

Such is life? Such is my life


Landed on my bum, for once. Such is the life of a procrastinator? Yes. And yet I was trying to abide by the rules except they weren't posted very visibly which I do think is on them, not me. If I ever needed an incentive to stop putting off finding a job this is a reason as good as any.

A few thoughts come to mind that bother  me. 

I've gotten it into my head that this is all part of some larger plan, as if I believed in a god or a greater good (or outside playwright). Which plan? One in which I'm brave enough to ask him out and fortunate enough to not only have him say yes but have it result in a relationship. I let the highs get high and the lows get low. When he stopped answering that day I was positive he thought horrible things about me. Then I went to his workplace (failed to ask him out) and he not only gave me a big, tight hug with an excitement to see me I've seen in no one. Moreover, he acknowledged the fact that he knew I'd sent him a message and he hadn't read it and apologised for it, as if he'd somehow read my mind and wanted to address the ensuing insecurities. Then I attempted to chat with him today. Conversation died. I again feel completely worthless. I want to trust Rl's view of things. I want to think he's right when he says interest is shown in being talkative around me. But what if he's just talkative with everyone? I have trouble feeling special enough to think he's interested and I keep telling myself all I need is an answer to "would you like to go out with me on a date?" because there's no wrong answer, but I'm also afraid of rejection and what it will do to me.

I'm somewhat amazed at how collected and Zen I'm about this. I haven't even started looking for a job and keep thinking I'll just find one and, worst case scenario, if I get a job here and not somewhere else, I'll live in the same city as him. Like that's something that's that big a deal. I keep trying to not let it become final. I keep thinking it's not quite real. Kind of like this lovely weather we're having lately where I can walk from the car to the office without breaking into a sweat. Kind of like him suddenly being interested in talking to me after sometimes not even bothering to say hello. Kind of like the professors I'm working with trying to figure out if they can somehow hire me in Spring if everything falls through like it might (or possibly already did). Kind of like a mysterious deposit made to my bank account that neither mum or I can make sense of and no one has claimed property over. It feels like something else is at work, like something is brewing, like things are falling just so into place in a very particular way for a very particular reason and I just don't know what it is. But I can speculate hope. 

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

I apparently can't learn

There's a number of things I could be writing about, like how the story of a trans man being bullied by professors made me want to cry and apologise for the human race as a whole. I won't. 

I keep wanting to talk to him so I keep starting conversations through Facebook. So far, so good, right? 


I've realised I need validation from him. When he doesn't read my messages (or when he does but it does not appear like he has and he doesn't respond) my sense of self-worth plummets. Forget about the fact that Rl thought I have a chance. Forget about how much we can laugh when we talk sometimes. That right there was enough to make me feel unimportant and unworthy of what I wanted to do tonight and may put off until later: asking him out on a date. 

It really doesn't help matters one bit that life has been going shittastic otherwise and I've been putting way too much energy into this fantasy of a love life he's a part of. 

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

A conversation!

Blog, you don't know about the time, a couple of weeks ago, when I ran into him on the way to the bathroom and had an awkward 3 x "How are you?" conversation. The time when I felt stupid and wished I'd somehow managed to convey to him "I am capable of intelligent conversation!" You also don't know about the times where I felt stupid because I felt like he barely acknowledged my existence. You do know about my awkward facebook friend request that I cancelled a couple of days later. Remember? Well, here's a nice counter to all that. We're facebook friends!

After talking for two hours (maybe less) even though the purpose was to be with other people while I was at the place where he happens to work (but they also make lovely drinks), we're facebook friends!´

I am so happy. I can't stop smiling and my throat is a little sore from squeeing a bit much on the way back. He asked if I'd like to go to the shabbat on Friday and that means you don't need to ask where I'll be on Friday. I actually have an excuse to to talk to him and we didn't use it. We kept talking about all of these other things. And he's smart, and very honest and he said he was an open book and I don't know if I should feel special if he says his whole life is open to everyone but he sort of told me about personal decisions he was making in a low voice and I can't express how happy I am that he felt close enough to me to say so. He may even get into tango! Tango!

Oh, and he smelled delightful. I know because I sort of hugged him while doing a tango demonstration of sorts. 




Sunday, 5 October 2014

Tango for one

I cannot seem to get back into a habit of writing with any kind of regularity. Then again, I cannot seem to get myself to do a lot of things I would like to do and really should but that's not exactly news for you, blog.

The reason I'm writing today is that I was at a milonga and I had a bit of a breakdown. However, it needs explaining.

So, Rl was the biggest stressor. There are a few things to this. First, there's his lying. I really don't appreciate being lied to, especially when the excuses are lame and it's so easy to catch the lie. It's also not the first time. He arrived and sort of started talking to me. He said something about his shoulder and his feet hurting and how he probably shouldn't dance because... meh? I knew he was waiting for a particular person to be available for a dance and, true to my prediction, he went on to dance with her as soon as that tanda was over. Why lie to me about the damned injuries and pains? I don't expect him to take me out to dance, I know it annoys him. I wish it didn't but given we can't really change that, I wish he wouldn't lie to me. What does he think he's doing? Sparing my feelings by not telling me I'm just not a good enough dancer for him? By lying to my face and then dancing with other people? He tried talking a little more but he was standing and I was sitting and I was having issues with his lying and his double standard of "you shouldn't stop dancing at all during a milonga" even though he knows that as a follower I depend on people taking me out to dance and it's not like he's doing anything about it so could he not just shut the fuck up?

I let it go. Aunt MT was with me and she is wonderful and everyone loved her and I was content to observe people dancing and dance a few tandas. Then I remembered someone had asked for pictures and I decided to take a picture of the table. The automatic flash setting made it so that the picture created a flash. And people were still dancing. After a couple of pictures where Rl tried to hide his face someone let me know that the flash could be disruptive to the dancers. I took a couple more pictures without the flash and sat down again. Then Rl chimed in again on how inappropriate it was to use the flash and it upset me. When the tanda was over I was told now would be a good time to take the picture but by then I just waved it off as "I already have a picture, I'll just send this one" and tried to look busy sending the message and picture. I tried playing 2048 to no avail and had to take a bathroom break to wait until I could sort of collect myself because I could already feel the tears swelling up. Is it PMS? Is it because I forgot the antidepressant last night, maybe? I don't know!

All I know is that it upset me and I don't know why I wanted to open up to Rl but between his disapproval/harsh judgement saying I'm just not good enough and his lying and the... everything, I just can't do it. I give up. There was a time when he might have tried apologising. I know that time is long gone. The honesty policy is doing exactly nothing because he's not really holdinig up on his end and 

EBF is also not really being there. I don't know why I thought he might be able to help because he once said something about real estate and my parents will soon not have a place to live and maybe EBF could help but he was busy and I don't expect him to say he'll be avaialbable any time aoon and I don't really want to tell him anything any more. 

It's been a while since I last saw SmTn online too. I think he was only around for a couple of days after we talked and then he went back to disappearing. It feels like this time it's for good, like after talking and hearing each other's voice and seeing one another closed that chapter. 

But there are no more connections. I won't say it's all in vain, because I did get gas money out of being nice to someone, but goodness knows she's difficult and I don't really like her all that much. I got a present from Tx and she offered support after I sort of brushed her off on the day I barely left the bed. It's just that I don't feel a connection to her either. 

Not a lot can hurt me, then I went ahead and let myself care about Rl enough that I want to make him proud and it hurts when he's disappointed in me or ceases to show interest in me and my well being and shuts me away and lies to me. All because he reminded me of EBF... I thought I'd found someone I could call a proper friend and... I just couldn't wait to be alone and cry. 

Monday, 25 August 2014

Some feels

Most likely a result of months (almost a year now) of therapy, I'm trying to embrace my feelings a bit more and actually act on them. Well, some feelings, at any rate. I even feel I'm being somewhat mature about them. Well, some of them, at any rate.

I cut the post about heroes short because I was distraught by thoughts concerning Rl. He asked me to dance at the milonga and seemed quite annoyed. It could have been mistaken by me stepping on him (except I didn't), or by some kind of muscle pain (it wasn't). He said nothing and I figured I'd ask if something was the matter. He said he'd been frustrated with me because I can't quite get my hand on how to embrace people to dance tango. My bad, I won't try to hide it. I still felt like it was a bit of an over-reaction on his part. The whole thing was still bothering me, as the idea grew on me that maybe he was just venting sexual frustration at the fact that, for example, nothing happened Friday night. Now, I can stop now to comment on how he tries to defend himself asking for specific instances of what I'm talking about, like he's an attorney asking for incriminating evidence, but I won't. Alors, on continue. After toying with the idea of maybe proposing a friends with benefits (and lots of boundaries) arrangement where I could be inclined to try a make-out session with him, I figured I needed to ask him up front if he was attracted to me. So I did. 

He said no and asked about me, so I said "not really" and when he said "not really is not actually no" I elaborated. I explained I'm physically attracted to him but refuse to act on it. He said he'd picked up on it and I called him a wise-ass. When I talked about being afraid of sexual objectification he said #yolo. When the conversation was over I was sure he'd lied and somewhat regretted thanking him for his honesty. Mark my words he will try something. I hate how he uses words and doesn't actually say what he means. In case you were wondering, that's not reason enough to refuse to act on my attraction to him. The bulk of those reasons lies in the fact that he enjoys boxing (brain injury does not equal sport) and finds no problem laughing at sexist/racist/otherwise-wildly-politically-incorrect jokes. There's a line between making cheap jokes about genitalia and actually being funny, any reader can tell you that. Laughing about women farting, queefing and snoring is a big NO in my book. I'm particularly insulted by ridiculing queefing because it's most likely to happen after having penetrative sex and you don't fucking mock someone's body expelling air you bloody put there. I'm looking at you, George Lopez. But he's not the only one. En fin... Score one for being blunt and honest. I actually feel quite good with myself for attempting to have an honest conversation about feelings, if only those of attraction. Should it work in the future (not with Rl, I mean) I'll be proud of talking things out rather than guessing. 

The other one is about SmTn. I can't help but find it a bit strange that I haven't received so much as a smiley face back from him since he sent that e-mail a while ago and I just went ahead and wrote another e-mail for him asking for signs of life. The increased frequency of contact and implied desperation badly hidden in it is practically begging for us to go back to talking regularly again and I'm not sure I can stop myself.

I said some.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

On some heroes

Sailor Moon got me thinking. 

There's a very specific kind of superhero story I'm drawn to and the pattern followed is about the same: teenager finds out they are special and they build on newly discovered superpowers to save the world. This is true for Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Inu Yasha and even Harry Potter. I'm tempted to say this might be true for mutants (X-men) but I fear they only said mutant powers manifested around puberty to make the parallel between being mutant and being gay for that particular film. 

The point I wanted to make is that this seems to be aimed at young adults and teenagers. While the animé/manga component can be explained by how cute it is to dress girls in all of these outfits or how obsessed pop culture is with the school uniform, I want to look more into it. Older audiences can't relate to wishing they had different cares and have likely enough given up on thoughts of being special because they're already caught up in the real world of grown ups, with taxes, bills, bosses and all sorts of boring responsibilities. 

Virtually no one could handle a 9-5 job and fighting evil forces trying to take over the universe. It's just too much. Lose the job for oversleeping and you're guaranteed never to eat again. Fail to keep up with the bigger cause and you won't have a home to come home to. Not only does it not work, it's unrealistic and when you're a certain age you're painfully aware of just how unrealistic it really is. 

What bothers me most, I suppose, is that I can't shake the feeling that I've missed out because if I didn't find I was one of the chosen ones when I was in my teens then I'm certainly too late now, meaning I must be an inconsequential filler character in someone else's big story. If they were going to send me an invitation to a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they would have done so years ago, hence I must be just another muggle. How unexciting. 

Thursday, 21 August 2014

I'm terrible at hide and seek

I'm hiding in the office. I use the term loosely, as Pf2 asked if I was here realized I was here and called for me and I actually opened the door to talk to him. 

Problem? I don't have a job for next semester (the one starting...oh, next week). Not yet, and, possibly, not at all. My last communications inquiring Pf2 for the prospect of a job got me nothing more than "I submitted your name but it's out of my hands now." Today it was obvious he was waiting to tell me in person "I can't promise you anything." I excused myself saying I'd go out to try and ask for a position with the maths department but after they turned me down I couldn't come immediately back to the office. I broke down into tears in the 4min walk and locked myself in a bathroom stall trying to calm myself down long enough for the redness in my eyes to subside enough that I'd dare come to the office again. It took me about an hour. Pf2 was no longer in the office and I took advantage of that to lock myself in, though I still made quite a ruckus boiling myself some more tea and eating a bag of chips. That and I forgot to silence my phone, so when he texted to tell me he'd tried nagging the department's head once again to try and convince him to get me a job I'm quite sure he could hear my phone ring. That's how he knew to call for me and that's why I opened the door for him. Fuck, he just called for me and I didn't answer. I'm typing as quietly as I can. I can't answer this time because I'm crying again and I'm a snotty mess.

I'm crying again because the old man called. He wanted to know how I'm doing money-wise and I gave him a less than convincing "so-so." He asked how much I needed and I lied giving him a number that will barely leave my bank account at an exact 0 (as opposed to negative). He offered twice that much, which is still not nearly enough because I'll need.. oh, let's see... 50 times that much to cover tuition by next Friday. Yesterday I tried to soothe myself concocting worst-case scenarios where I could become a sugar-baby, a stripper, or even sell my life in exchange for financial security for my family. The truth is I'd be hard-pressed to make any of those work in less than a week. The truth is that exactly none of those would work out in such a short period of time. Yesterday mum was offering to send me money she didn't have and sorely needs thinking it would help. I didn't have the heart to tell her it's not nearly enough and it won't make a difference if she sends me the money so it's best for her to use it. Though I can't tell her I have a job yet I keep telling her not to worry and of course she does. There is good reason to worry though I don't tell her about it. 

Oh dear, even Pf2 is sticking his neck out for me and all I can do is hide in the office and pretend I'm not here even though he can almost certainly hear my typing.

Last night I had a dream that I was hired for a job that was yet to be announced. I had a dream about aunt MT promising she would take out a loan and transfer me money for tuition. 

I've had other dreams, magical ones where I could fly and my voice had the power to invoke other beings and find mystical objects and travel through mysterious lands... dreams where I didn't have any of these worries. But I've all but forgotten them and can't write them down now.

Monday, 18 August 2014

Designated driver

So, I didn't bring it up before (when it actually happened) but there's a 100% chance that I had a feeling Md had/has feelings for me. It got awkward when she started asking about my love life and, in particular, for interest in Rl. Even though she already knows the person I'm interested in is decidedly not Rl (well, the latest person I've had a crush on, anyway, and the other one's not even in this time zone so... still not Rl). It was weird. Anyway, I had time to think Rl was interested, if only in getting into my pants, because he followed a certain pattern of "let's do lots of things together!" followed by quite a bit of silence I've come to associate with a couple other people who were interested (or sort of, anyway). And then on Saturday he asked if I'd like to go to a milonga. I explained I have no money and he offered to pay for me, which was awfully nice of him, and drive me there if I drove to his place first. We made small agreements where I offered to give him rides to the airport and such and he'll have my back for tango events he's attending too. He talked me into attending an advanced seminar with a teacher I can only describe as a pothead maths fanatic who just so happens to know quite a bit of tango. I attended the workshop and he left early to go work. Then later, around 9pm, he told me he was going out with a couple other of the tango people (pothead teacher included) and asked if I'd like to come with. I didn't need a lot of convincing, and I had no problem being the designated driver. 

I was a bit sorry to miss out on YAP's housewarming/welcome back to town party. On the one hand, I was already engaged with the tango people and I didn't want to risk seeing Nd or Md. On the other, Kl was there and there's a non-negligible chance that someone I would have liked to see was there. Alas! It was not to be. I might get together with YAP sometime later today to welcome him. 

Rl reminds me of EBF somewhat. Same strong façade to cover some emotional frailness. Same macho vibe and easygoing nature. Same we-could-be-good-friends feeling. He called me nice. I'm not sure what to make of it, because there's a chance (I find myself really doubting men's words lately) that he didn't mean half of what he said, but he said I was nice. It was in the context of him not wanting to see anyone for his birthday and how he's been away from people other than his closest friends and I asked about being the only obvious exception to that rule. He said I was nice and he doesn't often meet such nice people. It's not the first time I'm called nice and it's more often than not said to imply people will take advantage of me, but he was quite insistent on buying me something. The soft drinks I had (all I had, really) were on the nice waitress who decided to not charge me for them and I refused to get anything else he'd have to pay for. Part of the whole "not taking people up on nice offers" thing I have going on. If he's nice enough to offer I won't be un-nice enough to take advantage of him, especially not after he paid for Saturday's milonga. Even if it was not a huge sum, it was a nice gesture I've had no real way to repay and I feel a bit odd just taking from others. It's not that I'm obsessed with making the score even, I don't care if others take more than they give me, I just don't personally feel comfortable being the person who takes more than they give. I'm weird like that (and in other ways, I suppose). 

It will soon be SmTn's birthday. I've already tweaked and edited the e-mail I want to send him a few times. I'm a bit anxious about not getting a response to any of the last messages I sent him and I wonder sometimes if he's somehow not received them. I hope to at least get a nod in the form of a smiley face to let me know he received my message and I got him to smile. 

This is one spread out post, isn't it? *sigh* That's what I get for falling out of the habit of writing...

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Little one

I had a dream about my little one last night. Well, if not her a clone of hers. Who was sick and was having trouble breathing and had a tumour on her chest. I took her to a vet and explained how worried I was and she assured me it was nothing. 

Little one, my little one, I miss you.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Gone fishing

I had a dream last night where I was pushing someone around and we ended up near a small (man-built?) lake. The water was crystal clear and the bottom was a pale sand beige colour. We had a fishing pole, for some reason, and decided to start fishing. I noticed Q in there, on a boat with someone younger than him (a student?) but we didn't really talk much. Just as I was thinking there were most likely no fish there, one pulled on the (far too short) line. It was a barely visible yellow and black striped fish, about as big as my palm. I let it go and soon caught another one, this one translucent silver and about the same size. I was starting to think there probably weren't any larger fish in the pond when I saw a barracuda-looking one with the same sheer silver colouring as the last one. I hadn't given much thought to catching it when I started pulling on the line and realized it was tied around the big fish's tail. All I had to do was pull it above water level. Then came the decision to take the fish with me, to eat (though I remember hesitating whether it was sanitary to do so or not) and I had to kill it first. I was planning on just holding it out of the water upside down and somehow this would make it die (not being out of the water, having all of its blood drain to its head). It was pointed out to me it would be more humane to just hit its head against a wall until it started bleeding, at which point I could be sure it was dead. So I did, I started hitting it against a wall without actually looking at it, waiting for someone else to signal that they had seen blood so I could stop, and when someone did, I stopped. 

In another dream, I was in a large parking lot with the old man and I had my phone and my phone charger with me. I was just walking around as we both waited for something when I saw a row of school desks just set somewhere in the parking lot, some 6-8 schoolboys above them and a professor watching them. Problem? The boys were being burned alive. I ran away and told the old man he should call some kind of emergency service. It seemed as though not a lot of people were in the parking lot and even fewer were willing to comment on the teacher burning students alive. I remember there was a big commotion and I got to talk to a couple of the higher-ups who mentioned there being "terrorist-like" activity that had been suppressed before it even happened and  yet this one slipped. Somehow, I ended up on the run (I don't know who I was running from) and this resulted in making a deal with someone who picked me and two other people up from a lake to drop us off at a police station. The deal involved us receiving money (quite a bit of it) and a car. Somehow, uncle A was involved and it became his decision. In a gesture that actually surprised me, he said the money would be for me and my sister, except he'd just give it to me because money I used was money the old man wouldn't need to give me and could just give to my sister (or something along those lines). I remember being glad to know I'd have more money in the bank and I'd be able to afford a few more months' worth of payments (unlike now). 

*sigh* I really do need the money.

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

The splash of whales

I thought I'd be falling asleep early. I just slept a little, woke up, and now can't stay asleep so I figured I'd write down a bit about the dreams I had.

In one dream, I was walking along a... I'm thinking "ridge" but it would seem ridges tend to be higher up than this was. It was a pathway along the side of a cliff by the sea, itself a small cliff some 3m or so above the water surface. The larger cliff was not, however, a cliff by the definitions I know, as it was made of smooth stones (rather than stones that seemed to have been worn by the sea). The stones were almost black, large (60cm or so in diameter) and their surface was quite smooth. They weren't rounded, and there were a few straight edges here and there, but they were mostly flat. They were shining with a golden light from being wet with the water that had splashed earlier and the not quite blue anymore shades of light emitted by a sun that's fairly low on the horizon. I was walking with my sister and my spoiled brat cousin. In the water next to us were whales, splashing us. The whales looked like a cross between orcas and humpback whales (shape of a humpback whale, smooth skin and colouring of an orca, some 12-16m long), except they also had what I can only describe as giant pink feathers, except they weren't feathery (or "hairy") in any way at all, they just had the general shape of a feather on what would be in the position of wings, adjusted for size. They were really quite beautiful and terrifying all at once. The path was maybe 3m across (plenty of room) and yet I was afraid of falling into the water so I lay down on the floor and started pushing myself forward with my elbows. I thought of taking pictures with my phone to show to SmTn and even had time to worry about my phone getting wet.

In another dream, there was apparently a "thing" where older (30s-40s) men really liked me and kept trying to get close to me and take advantage of me. One in particular I remember called me to his lap, like you would a dog, and I actually went in and sat there. Until I got uncomfortable and made ready to leave, except by that point it was already very awkward and he was sure things were going somewhere. This was not a first-time occurrence and I even contemplated asking EBF about it (silly dream me.)

Then, there's a dream I woke up to this morning about a child (really, more a baby) who had written a poem for a contest. She was deemed very smart and the poem was supposed to be too planned, too "perfect" in a way to actually be good, and yet it was very good, or so I seem to remember. It was only 3 lines (though I can't replicate it in less than 4) and I wish I could remember the wording, rather than just the vague meaning:

It was a long trip to China.
I travelled slowly.
It was a long trip to China.
I came back the next day.

The general idea of the poem is that in very few lines it conveyed the idea of having travelled to some specific part of  China (I just wrote China because I can't remember). One of the travels was very slow and took a long time. The other lasted a shorter period of time but was jam-packed and thus felt like a long one. It sounded way better in the dream. Also in this dream, I remember petting a white rabbit that had hair in the shape of peacock feathers (the hair "puffed out" towards the ends)... it was not an albino rabbit, I don't remember its eyes being red, it was just a white rabbit. Very soft to touch.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Adulthood and hope

I will of course be tired in the morning when I have to wake up and make my way to the office, but I've already debated with myself just how sleepy I am right now and the conclusion seems to be "not sleepy enough." I finished watching Sailor Moon. I cried. I cried when Haruka and Michiru died holding each other's hand, I cried for Seiya's unrequited love. At this point, it shouldn't surprise anyone that I did. Except perhaps myself because of the whole being numb thing. It's just that I don't go about feeling many things other than lonely and I already know love stories are a trigger. 

I'm feeling a bit restless. I went over a few old posts adding the Sailor Moon label to them and fell upon one where I had ideas. The bright kind of ideas that tickle your brain and make your ideas smile as they talk among themselves. What I wrote then makes no sense now and maybe it never did, as you'd expect from random notes taken quickly too long ago. The true ideas behind them escaped me them and they still do now, it's just that it took me a while to even remember what it was like to have such ideas. I'm that stupidified by now. 

The reasons why are long winded, I suppose, but they boil down to the purposeful numbness. Not the one the psychiatrist says might be caused by the drugs, but the one I started building upon when my little one died by burying the pain with make-up videos and Bob Ross. Hope is lost. I know depression lies and someone who just watched the final episodes of Sailor Moon should think otherwise, but there was a time when I read Le Petit Prince and I thought reading it while so young was a stupid exercise and found the book dreadfully boring. I could read it now (I won't, I hated it and I remember the message well enough) but by now it's too late. And that's exactly the thing. We all go from the wishes and fantasies of being singled out as quirky heroes made stronger by the things that make them different (and, in real life, weak) to boring adulthood. "It's the way of the world," some would say.  I couldn't prove them wrong if I wanted to.

Remind me to try writing another Volo piece. 

Sunday, 10 August 2014

Active waiting: chapter Sailor Moon

I'm on an antisocial streak. I don't have a mind to see Nd or Md. I can say for a fact Nd is being just too much to bear. Just on Thursday they called to ask if they could drop by the office, which was not so much to talk but to use the printer there and ask for some tea while they were at it. I deliberately stayed hungry so as to avoid offering them food. I didn't offer the tea, I was in no mood to offer tea (or snacks, or anything... and I always do, when people come to the office). They asked for it and it frankly felt rude. I'm not seeing them on Monday, like they asked. I'll make sure to be busy. Actually, Pf2 is helping with that as an experiment was scheduled for Monday. It's a shame that's the day the PRIDE officers are meeting and I may not be able to make it, but I guess that's what it is... I hope we're done sooner rather than later and can start on time (or at least agree to start later in the afternoon so I can attend the meeting). Anyway, that's not quite what I wanted to write about.

It was brought up by one of the group facilitators that my numbness and reluctance to engage with feelings is a form of avoidance. I admit to it. I keep myself numb by watching YouTube videos, by playing games on the computer or my phone, by checking the usual websites. I have not done much of use lately. Lately, in fact, I've taken it upon myself to revisit Sailor Moon, as it turned out I had been missing out on 80+ episodes last time I thought I saw all of them. Go figure... I will say it's refreshing to revisit characters like Haruka, Michiru and the Starlight Sailors from a new perspective. Under the light of a term I've only recently become acquainted with, seeing Haruka as a transmasculine woman makes the character all the more interesting. The thing is, I'm not even halfway through the last set of episodes and... well, I'm having trouble concentrating.

I can't even focus enough to keep myself numb. At first I just opened a few other tabs to entertain myself while the video loaded. Then I took to actually playing around creating new Sailor Senshi in an online game. I know, childish, right? And yet it felt refreshing to revisit such thoughts. The thoughts of a little girl trying to create a figure to look up to. Invariably, the first characters I play around with always end up dressed in green and are made to look as much like me as the games allow. Once even that was enough, the thought that interrupts me is that of SmTn. I start to wonder if at a time like this he would be online and, had I not forbidden iit, whether or not we could be talking right now. I'd been thinking of asking him to please be online even if we can't talk, just because I like to feel his company that way but I wonder if the decision is not him deliberately trying to avoid me. I wrote an e-mail for his birthday and I've kept it in my Drafts folder, waiting for the right day to hit "send." 

Are you there, SmTn? It's really been too long...

And while I busy myself with such pointless thoughts, I'm not looking for a job. Not for the coming semester, not for after I'm done. I trust I'll get one (at least after I graduate) and I know I need to start looking now to make sure it will be a good one but I'm more eager to think of how to spend my spare time once I land said job. As for the Fall term... I finally mustered the courage to ask Pf2 about it and he said he asked for someone to get me a job, but it's out of his hands now. If ON's contract is any indication, it may already be too late. And if I don't get a job... that means no tuition waiver and no money to pay for the loan or the car insurance. If I had half a mind I should be eagerly looking for a back-up job just to make the payments but I'm having trouble being useful, in case you hadn't noticed.

The dream... the dream is to escape to an alternate fantasy where my regular old self is actually someone important and worthy of an enviable love life. Someone with powers no one else has, capable of taking on jobs that no one else can. 

I briefly considered writing a piece about our first notion of love as a myth to cover up the blunt edge of hormones but I haven't the heart to. 

I considered writing about the Mariah Carey song that got stuck in my head for a couple of days but I can no longer remember what it was. It's "One Sweet Day."

No it isn't. That was a while ago. It's "Without You."

I'm running out of words. I'm running out of conversations. I'm running out. But I can't really run.

Monday, 4 August 2014

Sexy egg yolks

I've been dreaming a lot lately, I just haven't been recording the dreams because of the whole I-don't-feel-like-writing-thing. I had an odd dream last night about SmTn. I had a dream that we were both at my parents', staying in my room in separate beds and I suppose he was visiting. But we were sleeping in the same room and I even remember changing in front of him, not really caring if he saw me naked. That's not all that odd, I suppose, not compared to I'm about to tell. I remember thinking it was a bit too soon, so I guess we hadn't been together that long and I remember worrying about a number of things and unanswered questions, but he was preparing for anal sex. With a little packet of lube (not so unlike the packets that ketchup come in) and, for reasons I cannot begin to understand, egg yolks. He didn't ask, and at this point we hadn't engaged in any other type of sex, but he'd apparently come prepared for it. It seemed "obvious" to him that we should go for anal even though I have so many questions regarding how you'd get to that line of reasoning... I'm a bit embarrassed to admit I was going to "let him" do it. Not that I was into it, not that I was going to do all the things I thought were necessary before going into anal, that I was going to "allow" it to happen as if that were close enough to consent. 

Why egg yolks? Why was I tempted to tell him, when the lubrication didn't seem to be enough, that some people make do with just saliva? (I didn't, by the way). Why was this our first official sex act? Why didn't I force the subject of whether or not he'd be using a condom, or our previous partners and sex health history for that matter? Why didn't I tell him I was uncomfortable and that I'd never done anal before? Why didn't I flinch at the thought of egg yolks near my privates? Why motherfucking egg yolks? In case you were wondering, no: we didn't. Not because I stopped him, but because we couldn't. It may have been a matter of not enough lube, it might have been a matter of not enough time alone. All I know is that I ended up outside, helping mum clean the floor because she was hoping to find some kind of magical pattern of three tiles that would reveal information that would make us lucky/rich. Dream logic. You wouldn't understand... I remember scrubbing at the floor to reduce algae growth there. It apparently hadn't been done in a fairly long time.

In another dream, I was some sort of princess and I was engaged to a monster not so unlike Godzilla (just a giant reptile that could walk on its two hind legs, nothing radioactive but rather ancient and epic about it). I had feelings for this monster and I somehow knew it to be person-like. However, to get to me and be engaged to me it had "cheated" some kind of test that involved filling some kind of outline against a massive rock, which the monster did by creating a chain of humans to lean against it. The king, my father, was very upset and wanted the monster to prove itself before we could go on with any of the preparations.

Tuesday, 29 July 2014


You may have noticed (no you didn't, I know no one's reading this) that the last post, dated from over a week ago, has no labels and seems incomplete. That's because it is. I started writing it and kept it as a draft but could not finish it. I could not even bring myself to read it through before posting it. I considered adding to it instead of writing a new post but the post I wanted to write to follow up on it was not written either and I don't think this post will do it. 

I am still in an unfortunate dry spell, as far as being able to word my thoughts goes. 

It will seem a bit implausible, but the reason I am writing this post is because I just watched The Princess Bride. I watched it because Nd recommended it after watching it with their boyfriend. I had a vague memory of its name and the notion that there was a bit of a cult in its honour and it seemed like a good enough reason to watch it. The film did not disappoint me. In fact, I was gladly surprised by its twists, turns and the way it made fun of itself. I appreciated the clever dialogue and could excuse the poor acting or horrid soundtrack. The idea that stuck with me, though, and that's perhaps because I somehow made a connection in my mind between Ax and the film, is that true love is an honourable cause. Ax posted a status update on facebook the other day where he essentially tore apart that saying about letting go the one you love because if it's meant to be they'll come back to you and if they don't it wasn't meant to be in the first place. Ax argued love is worth fighting for, it's worth being passionate about and worth the risk in general. I have to say I agree. Or, well, I silently do and then ponder on the possible consequences of what it would actually mean to hold to that in my current situation. 

I didn't write about it (or you would have read a fresh retelling of it already) but I received an e-mail from SmTn. I made the mistake of asking for EBF's advice when I couldn't think of anything to answer and that's more heartbreak than I can bear to talk about just now, so I'll just go back to the e-mail for now. It was not a long one, but it was the longest communication I've had with SmTn in a very long time. Why, it's been almost a year now. It's been almost a year of hardly talking at all and I still feel excited when I'm reminded of the fact that he still thinks about me sometimes. His e-mail was melancholy, and at least by two different accounts indicative of the fact that my initial diagnosis may have been correct: perhaps SmTn does struggle with depression. He meant to say "I miss you" in a somewhat cheerful way and yet conveyed a bit more than that. All right, he openly said lovely things that make my heart warm and my soul twinkle. I didn't say the same to him and I sometimes worry if I should have but then remind myself it's not my place to tell someone in a committed relationship of such feelings. I simply settled for saying "I miss you too" and implied that the sentiment behind those words wasn't going anywhere. Except not in those words. I may have been a bit more cryptic than that. 

Again, I couldn't keep writing. I'm determined to write some more, though. If only to rant about something. I'm growing more and more misanthropic by the day. You know how earlier, because I don't care much for myself, I settled for doing good deeds for others? A good deed is a good deed and time spent on good deeds is never wasted, or so I thought. Until I started growing weary of people. At first it was Nd, and that was bound to happen sooner than later because of their horrible manners, but now I'm growing tired of Md. I cannot stand her shrugs, her indecisiveness, her permanently pessimistic mood and the way she catastrophises everything and keeps using meaningless apologies as bait for compliments. I've had it. I actually find it hard to make conversation with her. I really have trouble being around her and I used to prefer her to Nd. It's all to say... I'm terrible around people these days.

Yesterday I had a personalised tango lesson all to myself courtesy of Rh and the complete disinterest of just about everyone else who cancelled the previous lessons and practice sessions and grew tired of showing up for them. It did not help matters one bit because a point was further reinforced that I do not connect properly during close embrace (or any embrace, really) and I'm always ready to move away from my dancing partner. A week ago this was pointed out to me as "you have to hold me like you want to make love to me." Rh was a gentleman and used every other way to say the exact same thing. Needless to say, I just can't do it. Not with strangers, not with less than close friends. I see it's a problem but I'll insist on trying to make things work without this because I'm determined to keep tango up even if it continues to ruin my budget. I need some form of escape other than Nd and Md. I need to interact with other people even if most of them are old people I don't know who, in spite of trying to be in their best behaviour, act like old people. It's an excuse to dress up, every once in a while, and play around with make-up and be away from everyone else I know. 

Any and every excuse is a good excuse to stop writing, apparently. I just went off on a tangent looking for sixties' nail styles because I figured I might do a sixties make-up look on Saturday and... why am I writing this?

There's so much more to write!

There's the picture posted today on my facebook newsfeed that I keep going back to because it's been so long since I felt the butterflies and that's the effect this picture has on me. Even if the butterflies have nowhere to fly other than my not-nearly-empty-enough stomach. And yes, that's a statement about my body image issues because I'm aware of the fact that I'm overweight. At least 6kg overweight and I have a torn and mended dress to prove it. Once again, I'm avoiding the difficult subjects.

This was pointed out to me during therapy. When questions were asked I avoided them by answering with stories that were unrelated. Painting detailed pictures of trees when asked to show the forest. Or something along those lines. It was pointed out to me that I make little of big issues as a coping mechanism and that I should practice mindfulness, not so unlike the mindfulness that happened when I broke down and cried for almost two days straight after receiving SmTn's e-mail and talking to EBF about it. 

It's as if thinking too hard about anything were hard because I'm so used to numbing myself out with YouTube videos, pointless comedy articles and random bits of useless information I fill my days with so I don't get bored and actually have to think. It doesn't matter if I make my mind up to do something, I can't bring myself to do it in a timely manner.

Now my mind wanders again and I feel like I have to write about the fact that I was supposed to meet with Tx and Ax but Tx called to cancel. Except she was crying when she did and got me worried because she might as well just have texted if she didn't want me to know what the problem was. And she didn't. She kept saying she was okay. I felt obligated to ask about her later because she'd promise to get in touch later and three hours later hadn't, and I offered to be nice without meaning to be nosy and she said "thanks but no thanks." She still made me promise to meet her some other time this week, which shouldn't be a problem because she has the housewarming party on Friday anyway. After not-that-much facebook stalking I dare make a guess about what happened: her other sibling died.

Silence again. 

I feel numb. Empty. I'm barely dragging on and there's barely a shell of what I once was left to do what needs to be done at this point. 

Third day writing this post. *sigh*

I'll just leave the two songs I've had in my head for a while now. Well, the two singers, mostly. One is the song I wanted to send SmTn. The other is the one I actually sent. It won't take you too long to guess which is which. 

Friday, 11 July 2014

Motivation and silence

I may have pointed out in group a couple of weeks ago that there were a few things I wanted to talk about and never got around to ringing up because I don't want to take time away from people who can actually solve their problems. I was absent last week and especially silent this week. At the sight of three members breaking down and sharing deep and dark secrets of anguish and despair all I could think was "your brains are messing with you, that's the only reason this all seems so bad" while "Do You Hear the People Sing" from Les Misérables played in the back of my head. I was encouraged to share more next week and the efficacy that group therapy has on me was brought into question. I can't deny those are thoughts I've had myself earlier. I continue to go religiously but I'm not sure the goal I set is consistent with the kind of help I need and the kind of help I can actually get from group therapy. I promised I'd write something down and try to talk next week, but if something is up with the others I will not take up their space. I just don't think enough of my troubles compared to theirs and I can't change that. It's been increasingly hard to bring myself tow rite not just the bullet points of what I want to talk about with the group but of anything at all to write on the blog, you know? I'm all out of words (but not really, you're reading this) and I'm more like an empty shell just barely getting by and dragging along existence than anything else. 

I want to break this down into parts but even that proves difficult because my brain can't seem to break ideas down, leave alone elaborate on them.


Let's see... The goal I gave myself and stated to others when I started therapy was "to help me deal with living with the As." I can't say if it has helped much or not and I feel bad because I haven't even done the things I promised myself, and the group, I'd do. Things such as moving out. Things such as interacting more with others. Things such as scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist. Things like talking to the nice maths professor. I've been putting it all off indefinitely. Back to the purpose of therapy, well... on the one hand, there's the depression and anxiety and the general fucked-up-ness that is living with the As. Realistically, what can group do for me? I can go to them and rant about the As and about life not being able to get away from them. But I haven't been doing that recently. Not in therapy and not even on the blog. It's not that I'm any less unhappy there, or that they've somehow started being nice or reasonable. Why, only in the last couple of weeks I found my sleeping cools gone and a note on the bathroom mirror for the one night I left in a bit of a hurry and left a mess there, telling me it was dirty and other people use the bathroom. Between 9:30pm and the next morning? They use their own bathroom and I'm quite sure they didn't have visitors. While I can see the point, the callousness of the accusation or how, after being left a note and me cleaning up when I was leaving the house uncle A remarked upon it once more, like I somehow hadn't noticed and/or had done nothing about it. I do not take lessons in cleanliness from you lot and I don't see what the bloody fuss is all about for a one time thing of something that would be there in the dead of night and for maybe a whole morning. Visitors come through the garage which is just about always dirty and smelling of cat poop. Visitors use the fridge and pass through the kitchen, both of which are permanently dirty. I have no say in those and somehow the messy bathroom is a problem how?

See? Not gone. Still exasperated. And I didn't complain about this to group, or the blog. I was just defeated. I still am. I have tried talking to EBF in vain. I tried to talk to him about deep subjects and, while he genuinely seems worried by the fact that I'm not eating very healthy food or even full meals, he's hardly the person I used to know. He's unable to carry the conversations I want to have. He's incapable of opinions and observations outside of quack science and nonsense psychology. The insight is gone. His interests beyond work are shallow and quite boring. I can't talk to SmTn. Talking to A never was much use. I haven't talked to AOB, not in a real conversation, and I don't expect to. I'm friendless and lonely, though not completely alone. I'm sorry to leave Md and Nd out of it, especially Md, but they're only situational friends and I'm not that much closer to them than I am to anyone in group. I care about them and worry about them but deep down I don't feel a very strong connection with them. Deep down, I don't feel a meaningful connection with anyone. 

The thought my mind speaks out loud the most often is "I just want to go home. And sleep." And I wish I had a home but I don't, so sometimes I just switch that for "where my parents are." I do very much still want to sleep and it doesn't help matters one bit that I've been surprised by ON during an office nap and I'm now constantly paranoid that someone will come in and find me on the floor of the office, not working. It's come to the point where I want nothing for myself other than rest, peaceful rest, and even silly questions like "What would you do if you could do anything without consequence?" or the more worldly "What would you do if you won the lottery?" have answers that almost don't involve me at all. I would pay my debts and my sister's. I would pay for my sister's education and livelihood anywhere she wanted and was admitted. I'd get my parents a new car and a house or apartment of their own (with a fabulous kitchen) as well as a couple others they could rent to get some monthly income. I would send YEP1 and YEP2 some money so they don't find themselves selling their things to make rent payments and go grocery shopping. I would find aunt LM a nice apartment to live in. I would remodel aunt MT's shop and make it fabulous after buying all the old/never-to-be-sold goods and donating them to some church. I would give EBF the equivalent of my first salary to settle an old bet. I would pay for Md to get facial hair removal treatment. ´

I can think of nothing or very little to do for myself. Even the dream I once had of trying to meet with SmTn is too far from reach now. I would maybe spend money learning many new languages and then travelling. I don't hold high hopes of getting very far ahead with any kind of education now. I don't expect to find love. I don't expect to find happiness. I can only hope I learn what I can (languages) and enjoy myself observing the world around me. I want solitude. I don't want accomplishments. I don't want fame. I don't want titles. I just want rest.