Distractions

I've been having a tough time. Not just on the stuff that I have shared here but more. More that I am so scared of I can barely choke them out in therapy. I give this surface image of a semi-well adjusted weird but bubbly girl who has dreams despite the craziness. Who holds herself above water under pressure, pulling through with a certain kind of stoicism. But you want to know the awful, ugly truth?

I can bury it in a flash. I wasn't aware of it until recently. Something brings up some uncomfortable feelings? Oh look how amazing my life is! I'm on such a great path! This type of distraction is prevalent in other areas of my life, mostly appearing as "procrastination." A certain task makes me feel uncomfortable -- oh look! The dishes need to be done!

Writing this post is making me VERY uncomfortable. Why? I don't know. The phrase "stick with it" has been bouncing around in my head, but the moment I try and focus on a feeling it is almost like it dissipates like vapor. I've learned my unconscious ... it's been trained.

These are all just words, words vomited into the void as I can no longer keep them. I am full. I am empty. I desire to be filed with love and grace, but I have compacted my soul with so much pain, so much hurt, can love survive? I consume to numb the pain, I gag to pretend I can make it go away. No more room, it says, no more room. And thus my body quivers at the slightest provocation, the fear of falling, the unknown so strong. How can I not move forward without trust of change, of the unknown? I will submit to trust. I will open my soul, expose my most vulnerable parts and I will cry I AM AFRAID! Over and over. I am afraid, I am afraid, I am afraid. With each strangled cry of fear, each heartbeat I will feel the pain and let go. And accept the girl I am, no judgement.

I'm Pretty Sure Something's Not Right Around Here

Technically I do not turn another year older until 5:08am, but come midnight I wrote this disturbing entry:

I once believed Love existed, then I realized Love is cruel and callous. Love exists only if you love yourself, only if you have the capability for hope and bravery. The absence of Love is here, in my shallow heart. It is where coldness resides and a lump forms with each stroke of pen. The absence of Love grows within me for there is nothing and no one to Love. To cherish and appreciate. I am a ghost among men, among the mortals who feel and cherish the fragility and beauty of life. I, who bloom from the bowels of cynicism and distrust, laugh at your foolishness. I accept my loneliness, my disgust of fate and the cruelty of nothingness. I concede to oblivion. 

Clearly something is wrong; between sinking to a new low in my food neurosis, an increasing distrust of others, an even harsher criticism of myself, and a sense of superb instability (despite it looking like I've got my shit together)... I am officially in I'm freaking my fucking self out territory. Doesn't that sound fun? Not.

Girl Rage

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I totally wrote a post & even with an "automatic save" 1/2 of my post was somehow deleted. 

Let's just say I'm not having so great a morning. 

What I've Learned

The last 36 hours have been oh so so illuminating. For all you bookish folks out there, do you know when a book can surprise the fuck out of you and you didn't even realize what life was like before? Well, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but I did learn what type of person I am.

I learned that in my single-minded pursuit to better myself, I've become critical and all too quick to judge others when I have no right to. I've become wholely unsympathetic and a bit selfish. I've also, possibly unconsciously, hardened my heart to... Well, any of those squishy bits that get all a-mush when open to romantic pursuit. It both thrills and terrifies me to admit that last bit, but I'm glad I've realized it.

I've also learned I'm a TOTAL BADASS sales woman and books allow me my squishy bits to be exposed in a safe manner/ place. And that I have the best connection when I "expose" myself to others in that book environment.

Like a toddler testing itself and its surroundings, I learned that while I'm not all gung-ho about the idea of a relationship (cringe), untimatelly I do want companionship beyond sex. I'm just not that type of girl to sustain a strictly sexual dynamic. I want the challenge intimacy brings, and I'm ready to be ... Well, myself. I'm ready to take the steps to be open, patient, happy, and all the quirks that make up my life. I'm ready to be curious, adventurous, and blissfully satiated (I didn't say I didn't want smashing sex included, I mean, really).

And that book? The culprit of my reevaluation? "I've Got Your Number" by Sophie Kinsella.

Yeah.
I know.
I'm just as shocked as you are.

Creation

I'm a "write it down" kind of girl. At school, I'm the student writing furiously with about 10 different colored pens or markers in my arsenal, ready to be used. Post It notes litter my day planner, while days are highlighted depending on certain appointments. To do lists get me excited. Journalling again has helped immensely with keeping my sanity... If I keep up with such activities.

I didn't realize how much I was missing school and structure until I was out of it for a week. Take that adrenaline and stress away and I am cast adrift, floating aimlessly in a vast pool until I knock against the rim. I won't be going back to school for months (summer), so I've had to slowly invent new ways of structure and discipline. I'm not going to lie to myself or you by saying the challenge isn't exciting.

Despite the craziness, I am, admittedly, a total adrenaline junkie. But that's OKAY. I've learned to harness my need to create, challenge, and LIVE into positive pursuits. I've had the go ahead from the doctor to keep active, and since he's given me an antiinflammatory injection my pain went down from a 6-8, to a way more manageable 2-3. Life can be lived again without me biting someone's head off or me breaking down into tears at the slightest provocation. Heaven really is real! Anyway, the sad fact is I'm starting over. My fitness baseline is 0. So I'm going to take things real slow. 10 minutes here, lots of stretching and icing, a bit of strength training, and a weekly assessment to round it all out. The 6 Million Dollar Man "we can rebuild" comes to mind for a strange sort of motivation.

Life is in motion and balanced, the best way I know how to live it.

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Enlightened

As predicted, a few feelings came up for me as my little arrangement with J3 has continued. Whether it has been influenced by my period or pain it anyone's guess. But feelings of inadequacy have certainly been bouncing around in my head the last few days. Through journalling and reflection questions came up that I sought answers to: I wanted to define what exactly I meant to J3. You see, I've been finding that our sexual dynamic now is very similar to when we were "dating," leaving me to conclude that we really weren't ever anything more that a one-sided sexual objectification. I questioned him about it and he sort of agreed. Something along the lines of me asking, "either you weren't [of the boyfriend mindset]. didn't want to be, or didn't feel up to it, right?"

The first time that I called him up for a friendly fuck (meeting to do so in a car, no less) afterwards he bemoaned that he didn't feel "good enough" for me, which frankly I had thought that was the case and added to our dynamic now. Take that yearning away, as it was affirmed by him yesterday and what do I have? The worst kind of apathetic lover ever. Sure he's great in bed and we're only having sex, but the recognition that I am no different from or better than "just another tryst" and woah that sexy factor goes way down for me. If it doesn't matter to him one way or the other if we stopped yesterday, what's the point? He hasn't had success at all with other women so I'm a bit confused.

Is it just a guy/ girl thing? I'm curious. I was hurt, although now it's a mixture of pity and insult. There's more for me to learn, I think, and I'm still redefining what this new bit of information means. I knew it was a temporary arrangement and I'm a quick study, but DAMN. I want sex and I want to be desired and appreciated for me. Because I really don't think that's too much to ask and if some dum dum can't get with the program...

Vulnerability

J3 and I have had another successful session together. He used a flogger I recently bought and a ruler to finish me off with. This being the first time using the flogger and under the influence of painkillers (my knee has been hurting a lot lately) I can't rightly say how exactly I feel about it. The flogger is certainly a nice warm-up tool, but it was the ruler that really did it for me. The sound and sharpness with which such a simple tool makes when contacted with my skin drives me to a point that is something like bliss.

And this game we have agreed to, J3 and I, to test my boundaries... to see how far J3 can go before I yelp "yellow" (the stock word for slow down) or "red" (which means stop all together). I enjoy that game. I enjoy swallowing my pride to admit what I see in that moment as weakness or flaws. It's almost like my ultimate submission, saying, "yes, I have acquiesced to your demands, I have nothing left to give... use and treasure my body as you see fit. I am broken by you." The best part is each new time we play I build up my strength, my tolerance for each new act.

As opposed to when we were in a relationship, we are exploring and actually doing a lot more. I've made it clear to him that I want less talky talky and more doey doey which, to his credit, he has stepped up and followed through. Much to our equal enjoyment. I have a great deal of darker desires that would be filed as abusive in any other category or setting -- like getting slapped in the face (which pretty much sends me to the moon). Today was also the first for that too. He would choke me until I nearly passed out and then slap my face and call me dirty things. That cycle of brief unconsciousness and abrupt awareness ... I can't describe how frenzied and turned on it made me while we fucked. And under the haze of morphine that's saying something.

Of course, after all the name calling, all those times he strikes me so brilliantly, there is the aftercare. There is that cosmic convulsion of laughter and heavy breathing. Of two naked bodies pressed so close, their breaths tickle the other's skin. There is the moment that fades into silence, the lightest of strokes through the hair of the woman and the invisible swirls that are painted on the man's body. In that eternal moment of muted compassion there is reflection, silent thank yous, and gentle kisses. There is relief and mutual respect.

Now, for all of those who caught that sudden third person transition might be asking what the--? And it was completely on purpose. Because I don't like how vulnerable that type of aftercare gets me. That's the type of vulnerability I get to work on, while enjoying great sex. A side bonus, if you will.

Either way, all seems good 'round these parts (a sudden deluge of income for me wouldn't hurt either).

Love Explained Beautifully and Honestly