the promise of more beauty to come <3

from notebook: november 8/09

There's this kind of beautiful promise in a brand-new notebook - pages perfectly clean & untouched, edges crisp, the sound and sensations of turning a page for the very first time it's ever been turned.

I'm hoping this week - maybe even today - i will finish off my last notebook & be able to recycle it all. It's a work book really. It contains notes from my OCD hoarding texts, draughts of poems, a dozen or so fragments of journal entries that were intended to become blog posts, plus to-do lists, gratitude lists, accomplishment logs, shopping lists, etc. The poems i intend to type into my laptop, & email the files to myself (just in case), and likewise with the notes from a recent business course. The gratitude lists i'll probably re-read for a smile, then let go to recycling. . . some of it will make it into this brand-new notebook, i'm sure.

Things have been happening at what feels like break-neck speed lately. I'm incredibly grateful for having received my Reiki Master/Teacher training in June, most especially for the attunement themselves. We did a lot of healing work on ourselves and each other, and the attunements (like a Buddhist empowerment, or a Christian sacrament of baptism) cleared so much energy, so much resistance in my life. I feel like most days i can now just intend for something to be learned, or some past hurt to be let go, or what have you, and it just happens. It's new and powerful, and sometimes i forget about it. It's a good thing to remember, because i certainly don't want to focus my intent on negativity, but also because there's no good reason to make things any more difficult than they need to be.

The energetic and physical clearing happening in my home is very nearly breathtaking. I realise that probably seems like a funny thing to say. . . i imagine most people just think they'd like to have a clean, tidy house, and then just do it. Then again, perhaps more people find decluttering difficult than i believe is the case. Regardless, this process of overcoming my OCD-driven hoarding is an absolute joy. It's brutally hard work at times. It's emotionally exhausting, mentally challenging, and has pushed me to the absolute limits of what i believed i was capable of. The end result, thus far, is that i've had to accept that i'm capable of far more than i ever gave myself credit for. That's a little un-nerving i suppose, but overall, sheer bliss <3

not the kind of heart-pounding excitement i'm generally into...

i’m absolutely terrified.

My Muse’s heart is pounding – a fast, irregular beat that’s hard to pin down. My mother’s dad died when he was 42. A past love died at age 41. My last partner’s father died at 44. That alone wouldn’t be enough to launch me into paranoia, but my Muse was also diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. He told me he was once given just a few months to get his blood sugars under control before being prescribed insulin, which he did. I’m skeptical when he says he’s not currently diabetic, because my understanding was that insulin treatment comes well into the progression of diabetes, not near the beginning. I’m confused and concerned: Muse has been avoiding testing his blood sugars for i’m not sure how long, but certainly a few months, as i don’t believe he’s tested them since we’ve been dating.

i know he’s an intelligent man – he’s seriously a fucking criminal genius (except mostly law-abiding) – and in most ways he’s soooo good at taking care of himself. He pays attention t o the amount of sleep he gets, drinks lots of water & little alcohol, avoids too many sweets…he keeps his mind open & clear with challenging reading and serene meditation…i could go on, but the overall pattern is that he’s good at balance in most things, and he dives deeply into things to fully understand them. I find it hard to believe that he dedicated himself to lowering his blood sugars (and did it) without totally throwing himself into understanding insulin-related illness, their etiology, prevention, and treatment.

Because of all this, i can’t get my head around the possibility that he may not understand (or know all about) the long-term consequences of continually fluctuating blood sugars and/or untreated diabetes. The damage to internal organs alone is frightening, nevermind the threat to limbs and extremities. There’s got to be something else going on, and i have no idea what.

I don’t know what to do. Earlier he was complaining of back pain & a stiff, sore shoulder. He’s getting over the flu, and often suffers shoulder pain. He had a tightly wincing pain in his neck…same possible explanation as above. Last night and today his breathing was laboured and wheezy…fuck, and now this. After he told me about the chest pain i started to get really scared & he could see/feel my rising panic & immediately recoiled, and asked me to stop…i don’t think my fear is at all helpful, and i don’t think it’s at all unreasonable either… maybe i should just go upstairs and check in… i don’t think i can be there without worrying – and that’s stressful for him. If i’m down here on the couch worrying, will that be stressful? Fuck. I’m so afraid he’s having a heart attack…

* * * * *

So i chose to go upstairs, and when i did, Muse was happy to see me again. We snuggled briefly, my mind racing about how much – if anything – to say. After what seemed like only a moment, he said he needed more space. i was so confused. i tried to make myself as small as possible, to take up just a sliver of the edge of the bed, hoping he just meant physical space, and that he would give me some indication of wanting to snuggle again, if that’s what he wanted. I was so cold, so heartbroken…the gap between us felt like a vast emotional chasm & the actual space let in a stream of cold air down over my extremely sore spine. I shivered with sadness, cold, & pain through the night. At one point Muse got up to use the loo, & when he came back he crawled on top of me, over the blankets. He said he was loving me up because i seemed so sad, but when i asked why he thought that was, he just sighed and went back to his side of the bed.

It was a long night, and in spite of all my physical discomfort & emotional angst, i actually came to some good insights. I realised i’d been making some decisions over the previous few days that were really self-sacrificing in an unhealthy way… I don’t want to insinuate that selflessness is a bad thing, even for me. I think making decisions for the benefit of others is a beautiful thing when done joyfully, but it’s not at all beneficial (for anyone) when it’s done out of feelings of obligation, or self-deprecation, or when there’s an expectation of anything in return. I need to come to some…conclusions…decisions? i don’t know the word i’m looking for. I need to find ways i can support my Muse in his journey towards better health that feel good for me, and that also feel good for him. I also need to find a way to be able to express my concerns for his health in a way that he understands comes from a place of love, and a desire to see him happy… We had a decent chat in the morning, before we needed to part ways. i’m hopeful we’ll get to a good place with this. In the meantime i’m taking some time to review my own self-care goals, and recommit to the ones i’m already working on. First stop, yoga!

i've been somewhat frustrated lately with blogging - or rather frustrated by not blogging. i have 2-3 entries (maybe more actually) written down on paper, but when i get to the laptop either i go blank & my anxiety peaks, or i avoid it & get drawn in by crackbook & twitter. When i do type a post directly into blogger, i end up re-reading & editing the post for an hour or more after. it's a real struggle to resist the correcting compulsion.

so i've determined that the best way for me to continue with this whole process is to keep writing in long-hand, then type it up later. Sure, it doesn't mean you'll see my updates in "real time," but is anyone demanding that besides me? i think not. i was reading the Daily Coyote the other day, & found it's author Shreve Stockton saying the exact same thing. Since the whole point of this blog is to document my recovery & to share my struggles & triumphs with others - not to be an exposure exercise in and of itself, that's how i intend to proceed. please bear with me, k?

i'm also reworking the tags/labels to do away with the lolspeak. sure it's fun, but it's somewhat geek elitist, and not terribly helpful in search engines. hurrah for progress!

it's been a productive day, but i am fill of emo

or perhaps it's because it's been such a productive day that i'm feeling emo. i got a huge pile of dishes washed, and sorted through most of the stuff on the kitchen floor. finished a load of laundry, and got a bunch of reading done in one of my compulsive hoarding texts. even more than that, i finished a few exercises and sent out a note to a few friends, asking them to complete the other half of the questions. basically there were five questions to ask myself, then the same questions to be answered about me. i sent the questions to four friends and my muse, and got a response back so far from just one. i almost didn't send it to one of the friends, because she can be a bit...impatient... i dunno. she's awesome people, and known me a really long time, but i realise i frustrate her at times. she's also one of a group of friends who did a big house clean up for me a couple of years ago when i got really overwhelmed, but i think before i realised that hoarding was the actual issue.

anyways, she brought up the cleanup in her answer, and just the way she phrased things leads me to believe she's cranky with me. i suppose not just that, but i got to feeling really anxious about her disappoint in me, and that just started that spiral of self-loathing i'm so familiar with...

the writing of this post was interrupted by a call from my Muse, and after a few minutes of chatting i realised i was far to upset to have a normal conversation. he was busy doing other things while we spoke, and i was feeling really needy. i explained to him that i was feeling fragile, and that i couldn't cope with not having his undivided attention. i didn't - and don't - blame him for checking email while we spoke, since that's something both of us are normally totally okay with. i knew i was feeling really upset & that it's my responsibility to deal with that, so i left him to do his work and proceeded to work through my anxiety.

i realised that what i was doing to myself at that moment was focusing on all of my failures: ways i had disappointed friends, ways i had hurt people in the past, how long i have been struggling with hoarding, how many therapies have not worked... i was also conscious that i was holding a whole lot of tension in my body that was causing physical pain in addition to the mental anguish i was in. so i prescribed myself an accomplishment list & a few yoga poses, and once completed i felt pretty awesome actually. after writing a list of all my recent accomplishments with purging, resisting accumulating, and organising (which filled a page!) i gave myself a foot and leg massage with moisturiser, then went through a series of poses that focus on the legs, hips and back. i ended in Shavasana (Corpse Pose) and truly felt the surrender overtake me. i sent my Muse a text message letting him know i was much better, and fell into a deep sleep. :)

phew, purging is hard work sometimes

today the universe, or rather the university, gave me a deadline that forces me to pick up my feet about something i've let drag over the last year or so. since i dropped out of university (perhaps permanently this time) i've been aware that sooner or later my university email account would be deactivated. as i've mentioned before, i have a bit of a hoarding challenge associated with my ocd. one of the biggest challenges for me is to part with information, or potential sources thereof. i'm constantly battling the obsession with knowing everything that's offered to me, and the compulsion or ritual that i feel i need to carry out is to intently read & understand (& if possible remember)every piece of information that comes my way. as you can imagine, this means there are many piles of newspapers & magazines, and unread books & lecture notes, and all kinds of physical repositories of information scattered throughout everywhere i frequent. it pains me to part with anything that i may need to consult later, or that represents information i may need to come back to at any point. how this translates to email is that correspondence contains information, and i have a hard time parting with messages.

so this impending deadline. it's tuesday. that's right, i basically have today and tomorrow to go through the entirety of the last 11 years of inbox messages & folders, and make decisions about what to forward, redirect, and delete. it's a process i've been avoiding for years. literally.

generally the way my ocd compels me to sort through this kind of stuff is to thoroughly read most of it, before feeling safe deleting it. because of the time crunch, however, i risk losing everything if i proceed in this way. combine that with the genuine desire to avoid giving in to my compulsions, i've been ruthlessly sorting through email the last few hours. i've taken breaks for sure, but mostly i've been just deleting, unsubscribing, canceling accounts, redirecting mail, etc. so far i've updated okcupid account, unsubscribed from some list-serves, and closed my eHarmony account (that one was particularly satisfying, since i closed it by saying, 'thanks, but i've already found someone who really understands me, just like the people on your commercials'). i've also forwarded, then deleted my birth family messages, and deleted a junky mail folder without even reading it.

now comes the difficult parts. i have three folders full of messages from three very important ex-lovers. one is from a best friend who evolved into a lover who left me... we were unable to stay friends and i sometimes feel those messages were all i had left of him. my Muse reminds me of him - only without the angst & self-loathing he embodied - so i know that there will be all kinds of awesome contained in those letters. i'm very tempted to read them before i delete them, or even just forward a copy to my active email account. i need to leave that decision for a bit and come back to it. the second is from my former common-law spouse, someone i hand-fasted with, planned children with... and i kept every single email we ever sent each other. that huge folder of messages contains an entire story arc of our complete relationship - right through to the bitter end. i'm pretty sure i can delete it now. i'm tempted to go back and read a few of the cutesy pre-dating flirtation emails, but i think that would ultimately just lead to emo. in fact, i'm going to delete them right now before continuing this post.

and it's done. wow. i'm going to dance and laugh and just take this moment in before i come back to do more. and there's more to do. the last difficult folder contains years worth of emails between myself & a friend/lover who had a non-relationship spanning about four years - my longest actual relationship, though we never officially dated, whatever the fuck that means :P i think i'm still holding on to that one because we have some unfinished business, or at least i do. i'll let you know what the hell i do with that one. but first, food.

we're back from hell <3

yesterday was intense. beyond intense. as my previous post clearly shows, i went to some very dark places. i got swept up in waves of emotions that pulled me far from centre, far from my grounded happy place - a place i generally manage to stay in, even when i'm utterly depressed. there is always hope. except when it feels like there isn't.

i wrote yesterday's post while my Muse was out with a friend, and i realise i needed to get the words out to process the emotions. i also realise that sometimes i do that - here particularly - and then i don't go back and rewrite the ending. i don't add to the story with how it was resolved. in paper journals there are some entries that are so raw, so painful, that i rip them out and burn them, releasing all the pain & anger & hurt... realising that the process of writing allowed those emotions to be worked through, but that to re-read them would only serve to re-injure myself. i've decided to not delete posts here, no matter how dark they may get, because part of writing a recovery blog, in my opinion, is allowing others to see just how low i can get. it's more honest, but more importantly, i hope it allows others who struggle with mental & emotional health issues to relate, and to see that even in the darkest hours there is some hope of light. even with those dark moments i'm continuing to become healthier and happier. they're part of the recovery process.

putting my philosophies of recovery blogging aside for a moment, an update on where i'm at this morning.

i am deeply grateful for the beautiful relationship i'm in right now. beyond that, i feel very blessed to be in this beautiful relationship with someone equally committed to self discovery & self challenge. i felt incredibly supported, in what could only have been an emotionally difficult moment. my Muse was able - and more importantly willing - to step back a bit, put on the friend hat, and help me work through all of my insecurities, my self-doubt, my fears... i'll go into detail in a another post, with his consent, but in short i'm reminded that listening to my Muse's words, rather than my ocd mind, is always the way to go. i'm still getting used to the fact that when he says how he's feeling, that that is how he's feeling. there is no deceit here, not even sub-text. yesterday i took his words, saw in them the chance he was doubting our relationship, and then let my ocd convince me a break-up was imminent. worse yet, i then concluded that i should cut my losses and run. i know that all was about me, and my own views, my own expectations of relationships, of people, and of men in particular... it feels really good to have those unhealthy core beliefs challenged (even torn down and replaced), especially when they're being replaced with more joy & wonder than i ever thought possible in my life <3

through the storm we reach the shore, you give it all but I want more...*

i'm feeling rather devastated... maybe that's too strong of a word... i don't know. today for brunch Muse & i were out eating at a busy restaurant and got into a discussion about polyamory, about what our relationship is, about where this all is going... he admitted that he's felt from the beginning that this is a relationship that may end, because of who i am - specifically that i'm poly. he told me he's aware that he's always holding some part of himself back because of this, and that when we talk poly he can feel himself shrinking back, withdrawing. he just doesn't know if he'll be able to handle it, how he'll react, if i express desire of being with someone else. i spoke with Effie (an ex-girlfriend turned really good friend) this morning and she related her feelings about her current relationship with a monogamous man, and the similarities she sees in our current partners. her advice was to consider if i would be happy being in a monogamous relationship; if i thought i was able to just pretend for the entirety of my relationship with my Muse that i wanted nothing else, noone else, ever. she feels that if i'm unable to do that, i should make sure he never forgets i'm poly, so that if the desire to be with someone else comes up for me, it won't be a shock again, like ripping off a bandage off a freshly scabbed wound.

in theory anyways, i agree with her. the reality of the situation, however, is that the thought of me with other people - even past partners - is really hard for my Muse. he lives with the constant thought that at some point he may not be able to handle being with me, and we'll need to split. i love him far too much to be willing to cause him this much suffering. i know he says he's open. i know he says he's willing to explore. i just can't help feeling that he's only willing because he feels that he has to in order to be with me. that because of who i am he's being forced to confront some of his worst fears. he keeps saying he knows these are lessons he knows he has to face right now, and that he knew these things would be issues when he made the decision to let himself fall in love with me. i'm just not sure i want to be the one to make him work so hard.

i'm probably being unfair. he knows i've had to confront some huge emotions to be with him: my fears of being totally intimate with a man; my combined fear & discomfort around fellatio, my terror at letting someone into my ocd mind-world and seeing my hoarding behaviours... i guess i just feel like the stuff he's had to confront is waaay bigger: the reality that i'm waaaaay closer to gay than totally bi, the reality of many very intense past love affairs - and around fifty past sexual parters, the reality that his physical & emotional love may never be able to meet all of my needs...


i feel like i've been pulled back in time almost, to the same place i was almost a decade ago, falling deeper and deeper in love with Jellybean (not her real name, obviously). When we first got together i was seeing someone else, and she said though she was monogamous, she was okay with the fact that i was seeing someone else. five months later when i was breaking up with him i could feel myself pulling away from her... though she had never admitted it, i knew that she had been putting her own desires on hold for the previous 8 months, in the hopes that one day i would be single, that it could be just us, that someday she would be "enough" for me. i knew watching me grieve for my broken heart was going to be difficult for her, and that when i was ready to date other people again it would be almost unbearable for her. i felt like she deserved far, far better than to compromise what she really longed for in a partner, so i broke it off.

it was horribly painful. i went through a series of rapid rebound hook-ups, pretending how unaffected i was by what i had lost, who i had hurt, and that only confused and hurt her more. i understand her anger, her indignity at my decision to protect her from hurt. she felt i was deeming her weak; that i was patronising her by deciding how much she could handle. i don't know that she ever has - or ever will - really understand that i just loved her too much... perhaps it wasn't a reflection of how strong i felt she was, but rather a fear of how weak i am... of what i am unable to bear... of my limited capacity to see the ones i love in such pain...

i'm finding it pretty unbearable to consider just how much i may be hurting my Muse. i really can't bear the thought of being with anyone else, for fear of his heart breaking. this huge part of me feels like i should just bury any desires i may have for other people, to just pretend this isn't who i am. i want to live in that place where it feels like we're totally vulnerable to each other, like we complete each other... in that place it's easy to just see this man whom i truly want to spend the rest of my life with. this is a man i almost desperately want to have children with; to raise a family with.

i really thought i'd never be in this place again. i had given up any hope of ever loving someone this much. it seemed outside the realm of possibility to fall this in love, unlikely that i would ever find someone i seriously wanted to parent with. even a few months ago i would have been in total disbelief had someone told me i would ever trust a man this much again. i feel like i've been given some giant do-over by the universe, yet i'm being told i can everything i want, except for everything i want. i can have total love and trust and devotion and total partnership, but i can never again run my tongue over a woman's vulva. i can have a stable loving family, but then i can never again experience a first kiss, a budding romance. i can have the best, most fulfilling, orgasmic sex of my life, but i'll never again put on my harness & slide my cock into a warm wet pussy and bring a woman to pinnacle of ecstasy. that i'm even considering the compromise tells you just how wonderful my Muse is, how totally happy i am with him. and yet i find myself wondering not, 'do i deserve more than this?', but rather, 'do i even deserve what i already have, let alone the risk of more?'

* words: Bono (from With or Without You, The Joshua Tree, 1987.)

blessed autumnal equinox

as the wheel turns i start my preparations for the coming darkness by renewing my relapse prevention plan. every year the shorter days and gloomy skies threaten to pull me back into a seasonal depression, so every year i find it necessary to come up with a game plan that will help me stave off any gloomy moods and make it through the winter in one piece.

i started this morning by setting up my SAD light and checking the bulbs: everything operational. i also started back on my multi-vitamins, a habit i had let lapse recently. i’ve taken a month off of doing my self care charts (they track my eating habits, exercise, etc) because i was starting to get obsessive about it all, and that’s the exact opposite effect i want the practice to have on my life. i’ll be continuing the light therapy and multivitamins this week, then moving on to some more goals for each week until all are implemented. here’s this year’s plan:

* begin my day with 15-25 minutes of light therapy
* resume daily multi-vitamins with iron
* up intake of vitamin D supplement to 5 times per week (from current 3)
* resume daily self-care charts to keep self on track and identify weaknesses
* limit to 2 times per week nights awake after midnight
* resume Ativan use once per week to keep sleep schedule on track
* stock cupboards with packaged foods that require little or no preparation for days i am unable to cook & unmotivated to eat
* on days i am motivated to cook things such as soups & stews, make large batches & freeze portions for rough patches
* continue to set weekly social goals to keep me connected with loved ones – not just online, but in person & on phone too!
* keep bed reasonably clear of other stuff; change sheets & make bed regularly

i can see right now the sleep being the biggest challenge, at least in the near future. although i’ve been joking that i don’t foresee the novelty ever wearing off between my Muse and i, i am aware that at some point it will become possible for us to be in the same room without having to make a concerted effort to not ravish each other. when we get to that point we may actually get some decent sleep when we’re together. right now, however, once we get going sex rarely is less than a three hour adventure. wonderful, yes, sustainable, no. with my schedule i can afford to nap, but i dearly love this man & don’t really want to run him into the ground… at least not in the sense of utterly wearing him out… entirely…

so anyways, where was i? oh yeah. going to bed at a fairly regular time & keeping my bed a restful place to ensure some quality to my sleep is a big priority. though i can mostly manage this end, at his place i find it very easy to get carried away & forget my self-care on the physical level. on the plus side, my mental/emotional self-care is solid when i’m with him. he has a way of grounding me… even when he’s telling me i’m being ridiculous in some way, or letting my OCD take over, he’s utterly respectful, loving… plus finally i’ve managed to find someone who not only calls me on my shit, but who also deals with his own shit. i love it. he lets me know when i’m crossing a line into taking responsibility for something that’s his, and is careful to not try & direct my own processes which allows me to do the same. it’s challenging. it’s letting me see my own shortcomings. it’s motivating me to confront some crap that i had let go for whatever reason… and the sex is really, really good :)

i am a confident, successful Reiki Master

tomorrow i have a day-long seminar about launching into business. it's been almost three months (to the day) since i became a Reiki Master/Teacher, and about eight years that i've been practicing as a Reiki healer informally. i keep saying to myself - and everyone else - that i'm confident about the healing end of things, just the business end of things scares the living piss out of me. as the reality of launching a business myself - launching a business that is myself really - i've become increasingly doubtful that i can actually make a living just being who i am.

twice now in the last week people who love me very much have reminded me that being who i am is exactly what will make me successful. trying to pretend to be all professional & straight laced like other healers i admire is not going to help people feel comfortable & trusting around me - at least not the people who really need me. after all, being exactly who i am over the last near decade has brought me plenty of beings who need healing, many people who have asked me to teach. exactly as i already am. tonight my Muse spoke of having a niche community, such as a massage therapist he knows who is part of the BDSM community & therefore draws many of her clients from within that community. by just being openly kinky she makes it possible for someone who might otherwise hide his or her bruises, lash marks, wax burns & piercings from a massage therapist. worst case scenario, those people might not get the healing they deserve if there are no healers they feel they can trust.

i've certainly had this experience myself many times. i had a therapist who knew nothing about the issues adoptees carry with them cry because she was unable to have children & my apparently thanklessness about being adopted by this nice family shook all her beliefs about who is deserving of children. or maybe i just triggered her grief. either way i was a child, and figured out quickly that noone at Children's Mental Health was going to be able to do much for me. i've dealt with endless counsellors, physicians, therapists, social workers, whatever, who don't have a clue what to do with someone who's polyamorous, queer, promiscuous, and frequently gets a craving to be beaten across the back with some kind of leather implement. i'm sick of explaining that i'm not afraid of commitment or monogamy, i just prefer something else. i'm sick of having someone sit wide-eyed while i talk about issues my partner and i are having negotiating household chores when another lover is spending the night. the last thing a person needs when baring their soul and looking for support is the sense that they are being judged and utterly misunderstood.

so thinking about that whole closet full of t-shirts i got from being there & doing that, i decided to create a list of who might fall into my niche:

• fellow suicide survivors & loved ones of those who had survived or died of suicide
• individuals & families dealing with adoption/fertility/family creation issues
• sexual assault & abuse survivors (especially men, as i've had a number of close male friends & lovers i've supported in the recovery process)
• mental health system consumers/survivors
• folks battling or recovering from substance abuse & eating disorders
• folks battling or recovering from other self-medicating behaviours such as cutting, hair pulling, excessive exercise
• polyamorous peeps; families who have multiple co-parents
• dykes, queers, trannies, lesbians, fags, pansexuals, homos, genderqueers, two-spirit, intersex folks, and even straight people :P
• kinky folks, those in the lifestyle, the BDSM community
• sex workers
• pagans, heathens & mystics
• folks dealing with pain-management issues due to injury, rheumatoid disease, arthritis, etc

there's perhaps more... i feel like i've probably missed some. no matter for now. i just needed to remind myself that when my higher self, my ancestors, guides & the deities got together to decide what path i'd follow this lifetime, they intended for me to be exactly the person i am, in order to do exactly the job i've been given. the rest will follow.

had a rather bad melt-down this evening.

earlier i was chatting with a friend about different kinds of birth control, which inevitably led to a conversation with my current partner... i'm not sure exactly how the conversation unfolded to be honest, but at some point i found myself telling him in great detail about the horrible experience i had at a walk-in clinic when i was miscarrying eight years ago. what began as a rant about the inaccessibility of reproductive choices for women - often controlled by medical professionals and men - became me dumping a whole pile of emotions about this awful conversation i had with a male doctor...

i dunno. i just started talking about the inappropriateness of his bringing up why i wasn't on the pill when i admitted i hadn't been trying to get pregnant, and i found myself saying that i was so angry & hurt that he would assume that just because a pregnancy was unplanned it was also unwanted. i think that's when i really went off the rails. at that point my Muse (current partner) had already interjected once saying that man-bashing was one of his mom's favourite forms of emotional battery & that it is always triggering for him, and there i went barreling into this rant about my anger & hurt & grief & ended up sobbing. there was a moment of silence & he once again expressed how hurt & attacked he was feeling... at that point i was crying too hard to even get out clearly that i needed a moment to gather myself together before i could speak... we hung up, and later i sent him a text message, but i still feel like i can't call him back. i feel really bad about hurting him. i know i hurt him. i never want to be someone who causes him suffering - i don't want anyone else to cause him suffering either for that matter. i just totally fell apart.

aside from the perhaps irreparable damage i've done to his heart, there's the whole matter of just what got me spiraling out of control in the first place. it's been 8 years, and one week tomorrow from the day i began miscarrying. the relationship that led to the pregnancy is six years over. i think about the child i lost almost every day. i have books on shelves throughout my home that we bought to read to him. i have clothing we bought to wrap his tiny body in. i can say that logically i'm glad i lost the pregnancy because i wouldn't want to still be involved with that particular ex, and having a kid together is a terrible reason to be a couple, but i'm not glad i lost the child. i still feel tremendous guilt that my body failed him. i'm filled with fear more about going through a miscarriage again than i am about actually giving birth.

i think that's the biggest realisation tonight has brought up. i never really lost the desire to be a parent. i never really wanted to go through life childless. i just have been so filled with fear about the parenting process, and about the ability (or lack thereof) to physically carry a pregnancy that i've convinced myself that adoption is a better option anyways. now here i am with someone whom i can seriously see myself parenting, and even beyond that, i find myself wanting his babies. and i'm absolutely terrified. i don't want to get pregnant again & lose it all. i don't want to try and try and try and fail. i don't want to become pregnant before we're ready & bring a child into this world without intention & joy.

i think that where a lot of my anger towards men who try & control women's reproduction comes from is a realisation that most men have absolutely zero concept of the pressure there is being the childbearers. sure, they have to worry about the act of conception. but there's so much pressure on us to do everything perfectly - to eat right, get the right supplements, avoid the wrong things, choose the right health care, gain enough weight, etc., and anything that goes wrong with the pregnancy or fetal development falls back on our shoulders. i don't want to be blamed for some disability or struggle that the child would go through for the entire rest of his or her life because of some small decision i made.

part of me thinks that i need to do something to work through this. part of me just thinks i should get my tubes tied so i can stop worrying.

watch out

i'm on a posting spree. as part of my ocd hoarding work, i'm not only purging real stuff, i'm purging virtual stuff too. that means i'm finishing & posting all the draughts for this blog, and about to start posting notes from my workbook too.

you've been warned.

the photo you ask? just an image i've been waiting to use for a really great reason. this seems like a good enough reason. done & done!

*also you should know this means that posts will be appearing out-of-order. you're welcome <3

::edit:: i realised just today (sept 15) that i had already used this image earlier. i'm leaving it up because it's that good. :P

i threw out the written version of this post...

i like romance & i like sex, but i don't like the two combined, thanks very much. the reason? sex is, to some degree, about vulnerability. it requires one to be physically vulnerable, socially vulnerable. throw in emotional vulnerability & it's just too much. seriously. throw out things like, "i want to make love to you," or "please give it a kiss," while pulling out your cock & i'm more likely to laugh, or perhaps gag (in a not-good way) than i am to fuck you.

romantic sex is just so fucking ridiculous. it's this stoopid, societally enforced standard that is wholly unreachable. sex isn't all flowers & cheeseball music. it's the funny noises sweaty bodies make when coming together & pulling apart. it's digging around in your mouth to extract the pubic hair that's worked its way to the back of your tongue. it's fumbling with condoms and searching for more AA batteries. it's real. in-your-body, on-the-ground, real.

so this journal entry continued into some great areas about why i find combining bdsm, sex & dating so incredibly unnerving, but i threw out the paper copy. after doing so i realised i had perhaps not posted it, and was going to retrieve it from the recycling. however, checking & taking things back out of the garbage are both part of my ocd, so i was determined not to give in. the recycling bag went to the curb yesterday, and leaving this post unfinished feels like an awesome act of defiance against ocd. phhhhhhhbt!

conversations with cats

i saw this today on MyLifeIsAverage and i literally laughed out loud.

"Today, I felt like my cat didn't appreciate me enough, so I made her watch Animal Cops with me. During the show, I stressed how some animals have it much worse and that she is very fortunate that she has a loving home. I think I really got through to her. MLIA."

i've had similar talks with all of my animal companions when they were being bratty. i've also told them i would return them to the shelter or rescue from which they each came if they didn't behave. then, because i'm also adopted, i feel really guilty, like i may have scarred them emotionally. i always apologise after. MLIA too.

watching obsessed again...

and i feel like i'm going to vomit. seriously vomit. my anxiety is so high right now that i'm tearing up, my throat is tight, dry & painful... i gave in briefly & let myself tweeze some hairs from my legs, and i felt somewhat better, but at the same time somewhat worse. the woman in tonight's episode is a skin picker like me, and has major food issues like me. watching her do her food exposure exercises made me gag. cry out. i had to get up and walk around.

i'm avoiding more and more the last week, and it's getting harder every day. the anticipatory anxiety is something that so plagues me too. deep breath.

seeing the complete change in 12 weeks on this show is super hopeful, but at the same time really depressing. i was diagnosed 2 years? ago... and things have been 2 steps forward and one back... or more... the whole time. i'm really sad that i haven't been able to change. i would really like to say i've accomplished great things. i'd really like to be a success story. i just don't feel like i've really done anything...

okay. i need to not slip. i need to remember i have accomplished things. i need to remember things i have changed. i am a successful person. i do great things.

1. i am able - and happy - to regularly eat eggs for the first time in a decade.
2. i have been able to start eating goat cheese & other products again.
3. i am able to regularly clean out my fridge with little anxiety about throwing out rotten food.
4. i have been going grocery shopping more regularly and buying food i enjoy eating.
5. i take my medications regularly, and my multivitamins too.
6. i have become more social again, spending time with neighbours and friends.
7. i get my compost & recycling out to the curb on time most weeks.
8. i throw out things on a near-daily basis, including papers i have kept for months, or even years.
9. i have returned one year of my six years of un-filed taxes.
10. i have downloaded and filled out the forms to get information or exchange correspondence with my birth family.
11. i have completed my Reiki Master/teacher class.
12. i choose to eat breakfast every morning, and drink less coffee.
13. i no longer smoke regularly, and can deal with the desire to smoke without severe anxiety.
14. i masturbate regularly again.

i'd wear this

see more Engrish

i'm feeling deeply, profoundly sad tonight. i have no real explanation - at least none on the surface. i've started watching the new A&E series "Obsessed" and it's given me a much-needed wake-up call. so tonight after giving blood, i wandered through the bookshops & finally library down town until i found some books specifically about ocd hoarding. i know i've made great strides in my recovery. i know that i am much healthier, and more in control of some aspects of my life than every before. yet when it comes to the hoarding aspect i have taken somewhat of a backslide. in the very least i hit a plateau of purging. while some days it seems that i have endless enthusiasm, and accomplish a great deal, there are still more days when i feel entirely overwhelmed. days when going out on date, or even just hooking up is horrifying because eventually they'll see my home.

i've been mostly enjoying my decision to be celibate for the last seven months, certainly it's been good for me in many ways. now that i'm feeling ready to start crawling out of my home & back into some sort of social venue i've discovered that i'm terrified to leave, and far more terrified to have anyone come here. it feels rather pointless to let someone into my life, my heart, when sooner or later i'd have to let them into my home.

there are certainly many reasons that my last few relationships have failed, but i can honestly say that my hoarding - or rather my fear of being discovered as a hoarder - contributed to the eventual break-ups. i'm still unpacking the feelings around the poly arrangement i was in last summer that i basically bailed from come september, and though it's easy to blame the antagonistic alcoholic in the group, or the spineless rock star, in the end what kept me from sticking with it was me. without question the ridiculous way i just wandered off into oblivion was all me.

certainly i was hurt & frustrated, but i think the last phone call the boy & i had involved a discussion of picking me up & taking me to london to see a mutual partner, and the thought of him coming here to pick me up absolutely horrified me. beyond words. even now when i think about him pulling into the parking lot i can barely contain the lump in my throat.

i find it hard to believe that anyone could ever love me like this. i know i'm fabulous out there, but when i get home i feel like such a fraud. all that wonderful energy, all my creativity, all my intelligence & beauty just gets swallowed up in this huge pile of stuff. of things i no longer want or need. so i'm getting help. i've got some great books to give me guidance, and i'm going to combine them with all my great skills & talents to bring my home in line with my heart.

happy may

feeling a little emo today, though i'm sure it has something to do with not really eating all day. i started a new diet some time ago, or rather a new pattern of eating, and had notices some definite changes in my energy level. eventually my mood also seemed to stabalise and my sleep became better too, so it should come as little surprise that after a few days of eating crap, i'm exhausted, having nightmares, aching in joints i forgot i had, and am overwhelmed by the desire to cry.

it's so cyclical, the running down of oneself. i start eating less regularly, my bloodsugar takes a dive, so i crave junk food, then get headaches tight chest & stuffy nose, feel like napping, miss another meal... bleargh. i'm really super exhausted today, and just desperately want to crawl into bed for a nap. thankfully i'm out dog-sitting, and they've left me dinner. i probably should go eat RIGHT NOW and come back to blogger when i feel less like falling over asleep :P

the last time i had an ex this pathetic & annoying i was 14

after making this blog private yesterday, i logged on to myspace for the first time in months, and made sure my security settings were sound, then removed Poop Face Bear from any applications i had installed, and blocked him from contacting me. i then changed all of my passwords on my online accounts, just in case. i guess once he realised he couldn't get at me directly he started texting cryptic messages to one of my bffs Wren. totally fucking random too, she had to check with me to find out if it was even his number, because it was just so random. something like "when ur doing things think not of what they get u but what they maek u". what the fuck. seriously that is the kind of text i'd expect to get from a 13 year-old girl trying to pick a fight.

i'm so frustrated by his attempts to control me still. we were seeing each other for 5 months, and it's been more than 2 1/2 months since i broke up with him. it's been more than two since i told him i didn't want him in my life & to stop contacting me. how does someone even think it's reasonable or sane to check an ex's blog 6-8 times a day for updates? i understand clicking on the usual links for LOLz & OMGpwnies! a couple times a day, and if this humble blog is on that list i'm flattered. but seriously. how can checking my blog every 2 hours from work & all through the night be seen as anything less than creepy?

i think what i'm really absolutely furious about is that because i know he's been stalking my blog, and my twitter, he knows that my Nana Kay died over the weekend, and that Tuesday i was at her funeral. and that's the fucking day he chooses to post his bullshit on my blog. he is such an incredible coward. he sends these passive aggressive text messages and emails, then acts all nice and innocent when he leaves voice mail. he skulks around on my blog & harasses my friends trying to force me to think about him, when i stopped giving a shit about him a long time ago. he's not even the person i thought i knew. i honestly feel like i might vomit when i think that i once believed i was in love with him.

sometimes it helps to change one's perspective

and seeing the world like my evil kitteh makes me feel better about things. she inspires me to remember that the universe conspires to shower us all with blessings - though i won't go so far as to think the whole world is for me to take advantage of :) she reminds me the simple things matter: cuddles, Reiki, and keeping one's butt warm. she reminds me to stand up for myself when dumb boys get in my face. just the other day my normally 'fraidy-cat girl got very angry that a neighbourhood tomcat has been parking his butt on our back stoop. she growled & hissed for a good time, and when i opened the door to throw water on him she charged out, and attacked him! seriously. 

this is a cat who sometimes hides for a whole day when a new person comes to visit, but she ran out the door & jumped him, causing him to high-tail it out of our yard yowling in terror. i called her & she ran back in the house. i didn't immediately see where she was, and panicked thinking she might be hurt. when i called her name, she sauntered out from under the desk looking awfully pleased with herself, and fur between her claws. she was completely unscathed. holding her tail high. 

i'm glad she took a risk and felt braver for it. i think the recent trip to my parents actually gave her a new sense of confidence. being there for almost five days forced her to confront her anxieties, and eventually she let go a bit. first it was just at night when everyone else was in bed, but on the last evening she came out of the closet to let both my nieces pet her. she even let the littler one scratch her head, rub her ears, and run her hand along the length of her back. awesome. 

back to the dumb boy cat. he's been visiting our back door for going on two years now, and he just doesn't seem to ever take the hint he's not welcome. both girl-cats & girl rabbits growl and slap at the windows when he's there, and once they've let me now he's there i chase him off. he's been soaked by water, and chased for close to a block by me, but the ass-whooping by the eeeevill kitteh seems to have finally driven the point home. he's only come back once, and very briefly. when he saw me coming to the door, he bolted, fearing the wrath that would come next. good.

sometimes one just needs to up the intensity to get rid of an unwelcome presence in one's life. part of me was feeling a little bad about my recent blow-up at Pooh-Bear on the phone, but once again my kitteh brought me back to reality: when a boy is being stupidly persistent & refuses to back off (in spite of being told he is unwelcome in my life), it's both fair, and often necessary to raise my voice and reassert my boundaries. i hope his absence from my feedjit & twitter means he's finally taken the hint to stay off my porch. if not, i'll be ready with a bucket of cold water & a deep growl :)

i'm pregnant!

and if you believed that for even a second, you've forgotten what day it is :P

i'll think of this every time i crave a cigarette

i've pretty much quit since January, but when i'm around smokers, and especially when i'm offered one, i have trouble turning one down. i know i'll feel crappy the next day. i know it raises my overall anxiety levels. i know it makes my joint pain harder to manage. but now, i know i'm hurting the cigarettes' feelings. how can i live with myself? hee hee :)

another crappy day

it's hard to believe a person can sleep as much as i have in the last 36 hours. 48 even. i'm not even sure... my joints are so unbelievably painful, and i just can't seem to get up once awake. i'm second guessing my decision to go north. i don't want to avoid moving ahead, but i also feel like being in this apartment is just draining me away to nothingness. i can't seem to find any reason to leave, as important as any reason seems. tomorrow should finally bring about an errand, as today i ran out of pain medication for the degu & rabbit. i wouldn't wish this kind of physical pain on my worst enemy, let alone the ones i love, so tomorrow i'll have to venture out to the clinic for a refill, maybe i'll have the strength to get a few more things done while out, and feel a little better. right now i can barely type because the fingers on my left hand aren't working. ugh.

i made it.

one more day. i'm physically struggling to eat, but i haven't made myself vomit. i haven't showered, but then i haven't cut myself either. okay, i did cut myself, but it was with scissors, and was a total accident. lolz. i made it out to my circle gathering today, and celebrated a friend's birthday there. she's been really down lately, and not really talking about it, so it was super nice to see the big smile on her face, and her genuine surprise that we'd throw her a party. she got a giggle out of one my prezzies, and a full laugh about the cats' addition to her card - a chewed up edge and some butt-shaped creases :)

i didn't talk with my mom yet, and i'm trying to decide how much to tell her. she knows from our last few conversations that i'm really feeling overwhelmed, and that the health issues i've been dealing with are feeding my depression, and that the break down of my relationship with PoohBear has only intensified things. the return of another round of abnormal blood tests has only intensified my feelings of being at battle with my own body. i'll be waiting another few weeks to find out what the latest round indicate, but for the time being i know rheumatoid arthritis has been ruled out, thyroid disorder of some kind is confirmed, and lupus is a definite possibilty.

it's really hard to avoid self-harm right now. the urge to use pain as an escape, to get that rush of endorphins is hard to keep saying no to. i wish i had a partner who was willing to flog me & paddle me. i could sure use a round of BDSM play to get some of this out of my system. maybe i'll just lay here and imagine my back on fire, or being thumped by a wide, heavy belt. mmmm. feeling the thud of a strap, the rush of blood to the surface, the warmth filling my back, and hearing a top tell me how good and strong i am to take such a beating would really hit the spot right now - pun intended. withstanding - even enjoying pain - is the only thing i actually feel good at right now.

today is one of them

more animals

i read his messages.

and i replied. i didn't appear he'd stop ranting in my box anyway. i finished deleting all of our mutual friends that i found on my list, but i'm not going to give explanations. it's him that's giving out the threats and ultimatoms about fucking with my life and my loved ones if i try to stay friends with anyone, so he can explain to them why i'm not allowed to talk with them anymore. i know he'll throw wild accusations around and paint me as the monster, but whatever. i wouldn't intentionally cause shit between him and his friends, but since my chief super power appears to be the abilty to leave an entire room of people disrespected, hurt & disgusted, it's probably better that i just stay away altogether.

i'm about done.

at one point in what now feels like the distant past - but was perhaps only a few weeks ago - i felt like my life was finally turning around. i felt like i was feeling strength in myself, hope in myself, that i don't think i've ever felt before. i had started to see myself as a person with value. as someone who has skills and gifts to share with the world around me. i thought i was making progress with my life in so many ways, and that i was becoming a better friend. that i was becoming a better person. i don't feel that way anymore.

i'm not nearly so naive as to believe that noone would care if i were gone, or that my death wouldn't hurt anyone. i know it would. i know my mother - though not at all surprised - would be devastated nevertheless. my dad would be angry. my brother, heartbroken. i have friends that would feel angry - at me, at themselves for not stopping me - and ones who would feel hurt and betrayed that i've pulled away from everyone and not let them help. besides, do i really want my last a conscious act to be just another disappointment to everyone around me?

i know that other times i've been this sad things have eventually gotten better. i know things seem utterly hopeless now, but that eventually they will probably seem bearable. i just wish that there were some point in my life when i felt sucessful, so i felt like i had a memory to wrok back towards. i've just never been comepletely convinced that i was a worthwhile person deserving of hapiness who ever did anything to benefit others, so i don't even know what i'm working towards.

okay. so here's the concrete plan i'm going to lay down to get me through this:
1. tomorrow morning i will call my mom & fill her in on where i'm at. i will make arrangements for her to come and pick me up and take me back up north with her for a week or two.
2. i will try to arrange for my rabbits to stay with a friend who can administer the necessary pain meds and subcutaneous medications to keep the sick one comfortable until i am ready to let her go.
3. i will negotiate with my mom to bring my remaining degu with me to their house, so i can monitor his health and decide when to have him euthanised.
4. i will arrange for someone to come feed my cats here at the house, or failing that, arrange to have them kennelled for the duration of my time away. i will call a close friend (& former roomate) and confirm he will take them on as fosters should i be unable to care for them indefinitely.
5. i will notify my support worker, physician, psychiatrist, and counsellor that i will be retreating to the north for a time, and give them contact information to keep in touch.
6. i will make a list of items to take with me for the duration of the stay, including therapy workbooks & journals, to try and pull myself out of this.
7. i will make cartain i have appointments with my support team in place for when i return.

in the meantime i also have some housekeeping from my failed relationship with PoohBear to deal with. i will pack up all of his items i can find, and ship them to his apartment. i will also message all of his friends on myspace who i have become friends with, and explain that i will be removing myself from his life - and therefore his clan - as requested. i will then delete them all from my friends list. i will make certain to pack the gifts i had for a few friends with PoohBear's things so that he can distribute them without me having further contact with any of them.

what a shitty list. whatever. the hardcore sedatives & painmeds i took a while ago are starting to kick in, so at least i've stopped violently shaking & sobbing. i hope i can actually sleep for a bit. i can hear my phone going off over and over - probably PoohBear having to get in one last word, one last attack, one last dig. i don't know if i'll even check it again. certainly i'm going to try and refrain from replying. i really just want him to leave me alone, and answering is only going to incite him to attack me again.

i'll do my best to post every day for the next little while, because i know i have at least 2-3 friends who read this regularly, and i don't want anyone worried i'm over here rotting away in my apartment... although if i did suicide, noone would have to come feed the cats for at least a few days :P

i like cats. this is why.

more animals

sigh.

tomorrow i see my support worker, and thursday i finally see the endocrinologist. i don't even remember what i'm supposed to be talking with my worker about. i have only a few weeks left with her to finish my second recovery plan... we're working on a plan for peer support. i'm trying to come up with skills and goals that will help me increase self-esteem, widen my support base, and keep in touch with my friends. today's one of those days that it seems entirely insurmountable.

i'm just so tired. i just keep telling myself it's only a few days until i have some answers about my physical health. i just want any kind of relief. i just want a normal bowel movement. i just want a good night's sleep. i just want... to be me again. part of me is holding out hope that once my thyroid and whatever else is treated i'll feel less depressed. i've even entertained the thought that i may not feel depressed at all...

i know. that's hoping for too much. but maybe i'll be able to see clearly. maybe my tongue will fit in my mouth again. maybe the strange tastes will go away. maybe i'll have the energy to call friends. maybe i'll have the motivation & appetite to eat. maybe i'll get through a day without nausea or dizziness or blacking out. maybe i'll be able to swallow without pain.

i dunno. i'd really like to get back in touch with friends. i broke up with Pooh Bear last week because i just feel so empty. i just don't have anything left. i know i shouldn't be cutting myself off any further... i just... i don't have the energy for anything anymore. i don't want to leave the house. i don't want to talk to anyone. none of it helps, and i don't want to be all mopey around people. i'm cranky and sore, and impatient and i don't even have enough left to give a shit.

i'm really not that funny afterall.

so last night Pooh Bear and i got into another argument about me talking too much. i really wanted to tell him about what goes through my mind when i’m being overly talkative, and the goofy centre of attention. i wanted to explain to him how it helps me feel safe, how i always feel i need to prove myself, how i’m afraid of silence, afraid of being judged… i wanted to tell him all of this and i was feeling really scared, so i said something off cuff, something obnoxious and similar to the kind of thing he would say, as a way to diffuse my own tension. yet another argument broke out about me not taking his feelings seriously. i don’t feel up to talking it through with him right now – he wouldn’t be awake anyhow – so i’ll do it here. because being vulnerable in front of the faceless masses is easy, in front of someone i love, scary. i laugh as i write this, and it just further demonstrates: i use humour as a way to protect myself from feeling vulnerable – not just in the context of our conversation last night, but also in general.

my adoptive family on my father’s side are caustic people. being in the middle of them is, quite honestly, horrific. i suppose over the years some of them have become easier to deal with, and in small groups some are almost pleasant at times. the thing is, they turn on each other, and on me, without any notice. they are worse than a pack of unstable feral dogs. at any moment they are all ready to rip any member of the family to shreds, and leave them bloodied and alone – and they almost seem to delight in doing it. the worst part is, once a member has been attacked and ostracised, there’s no telling how long everything they do will be wrong, and for how long they will be attacked over and over. there is always someone in the room or house under attack in the immediate, but also there is always at least one family member who has been ousted, or a small number who are at perpetual war, and these battles often continue for years. instead of talking about who’s doing what with career, or hobbies, or just enjoying family company, gatherings often centre on sorting out who isn’t talking to whom right now, and figuring out who to blame. i spent a lot of time being that person.

i was taught from an early age that men’s opinions and activities are infinitely more important than women’s, disagreeing with the dysfunctional pack means ostracisation, and that showing emotional vulnerability is a sure fire way to make yourself the target. my mother’s family is wonderful in comparison, and as close to being a functional family as seems possible. from their example i knew that devaluing the one’s you supposedly love felt awful, and that there was a better way to interact. for years i rebelled against my dad’s family, and found myself constantly exhausted and attacked. mom understood what i was going through, being a perpetual outsider herself, and from her i learned that the only way to survive was to show no vulnerability around them, and avoid them wherever possible. when they’re around, grin and bear it, hold it in, and struggle through the visit, because they are incapable and unwilling to change.

and so i’m funny. when i’m funny i don’t have to talk about anything important. i constantly fear that i’m being judged, being watched for any sign of weakness. if i can make fun of myself first, it hurts less. if i can be the centre of conversation but use humour to direct it away from anything important than i’m keeping fights from breaking out. what Pooh Bear interpreted last night as me making light of his discomfort was in fact me trying to lessen my own. clearly i need a new tactic.

i just cut off abut 4 inches of hair.

i tried a few other methods to settle down – therapy exercises, deep breathing, herbal remedies, distraction – and in the end i was still laying in bed, all keyed up, wanting to seriously injure myself.

i’ve quit smoking, and i haven’t cut or made myself vomit in what seems like forever, but i just needed some kind of outlet – some physical way to bring myself back to myself, out of the pit of the overwhelming despair. the brief moments i found myself out of the sadness, i felt myself wanting to lash out, to scream, yell, kick someone. i just feel so incredibly frustrated. so hurt. so lonely.

the haircut helped. somehow cutting my hair always feels so powerful. it feels like i’ve rid myself of so much baggage. my hair has been so brittle lately, tangley & breaking off. i can barely run a comb through it, and even when i run my fingers through it i’m left with a handful of crumbling hairs. it was getting so thin and stringy and gross, and i just felt like pulling it back and whatever all the time.

i know that society deems a woman’s hair to be this huge focus of our beauty, desirability, our sexiness. i’ve always rebelled against beauty standards, and i try to make choices that make me feel comfortable, and therefore confident and sexy on my own terms. i’m well aware as well that straight men universally tell me to grow my hair out, and that dykes always compliment my hair when it’s shorter. i’ve posted online polls about my hair, and without exception the straight peeps said grow it out, dykes said cut it off. i’d like to be more attractive to Pooh Bear, and i know he wants me to have long hair… if i had to choose though, attractive to straight people or attractive to queer people, there’s no competition. Other than Pooh Bear, i’d be happy to never have sex with a straight person ever again.

anyways, i'll probably regret it at some point, and i know Pooh Bear is going to freak when he sees me. i think in some ways it's probably a way to lash out at him seeing as how we've been fighting so much lately. right now though, it feels awesome. i love how it looks. i love how the broken hair shows less. i love how it doesn't hang in my face. i love how it's off my neck. i've been feeling so shitty lately it's nice to feel happy about something, and now i can sleep.