The rat bastards at Starbucks did NOT come through for yours truly the other day. It was such an absolutely shit day that it’s possible even an IV of espresso wouldn’t have been able to save the day. At least I survived. Onto the next rant.
I just loved Huey Lewis back in the day. That song (see post title)was so confusing to me when I first heard it. I understand better now what he was saying. I think I have the beginnings of the answers that will help me.
Tomorrow I go to the doctor to discuss new treatment options so I can get my shit together. I’m sick of being under the weather both emotionally and physically. I’ve had a serious sinus infection for 3 weeks and I think maybe it’s gotten bad enough that the bloodstream is involved. My hormones are so out of whack I look like a pimple faced teenager. It’s so freaking gross to have cystic acne at my age. Nothing short of Bond-o will cover it up either.
Steroids, anti-biotics, anxiety med, up the antidepressant , and hopefully some sexual healing as well (not from the doctor…ewww)
I have taken the steps into a new adventure this week, should it work out, it could make for some very interesting fodder for the blog. That is if, if I can work up the nerve to post about it.
Here’s to this week being almost over!
This will be an ongoing category on my blog. I’m not comfortable in any way writing this, but it needs to be done for my own mental health. I’m not doing this for pity or judgement. I just can’t keep having all the confusing thoughts and misconceptions running around in my mind. They need order. Admittedly I could do this in a journal and keep it private, but I’m finding that getting it out there publicly has been helping. Being honest on here keeps me honest with myself, something I’ve never been good at.
A little background before moving forward. Beginning at the age of 5 until I was 15 years old, I was forced by my stepfather to endure sexual abuse. It would forever sculpt the way I respond or not respond to men and myself in the quest for pleasure.
One of the hardest things for me to admit about myself is that I am uncomfortable with my own ability to find pleasure sexually. The brain controls everything. It triggers receptors, send more blood the bodies pleasures centers. It displays images in the mind so they we can be further stimulated. I’m constantly hijacked by my thoughts. I’m embarrassed when by myself by what turns me on and how I go about getting personal gratification. I fear discovery, in my own home, by myself, with the door locked, curtains drawn. I worry about not being able to get off. That the orgasm I’m hoping for won’t be gratifying. I give myself a timetable and then when the moment of pleasure comes, I close off my mind and fail miserably at real satisfaction. Why must my mind be my biggest enemy? If I can’t allow myself to get turned on when alone, how the hell can I ever allow a man to try in a one on one situation again?
I’ve been celibate for 5 years and counting. I’m trying to figure out how to go about allowing myself to get comfortable with being open minded during sex. How do I not sabotage my own pleasure?
Here is what leads me to understand why I behave the way I do.
- I was taught early on by my mother that being chaste was what a girl aspired to be. I didn’t understand what chaste ment as a little girl.
- Being fondled and coached sexually at such a young age confused me on understanding what about sex was right and what was wrong.
- I was sexually abused by my stepfather, stepbrother, and a male cousin.
- I was promiscuous at a very young age. I didn’t have boundaries.
- I don’t know if was ever penetrated by the men who abused me. I’ve never been able to unblock those memories. I don’t know who was my “first”.
- I was 16 and no longer living with my mother when the first boy that wanted to have sex with me actually raped me when I said “no”. He lasted about 15 seconds and managed to use a condom.
- I suffer from long-term PTSD due to the my childhood. Rather than react, I retreat inwardly and will compartmentalize the situation into separate boxes until I can deal and move on.
- I’m extremely submissive sexually. I have a negative view of my own body and my desires.
- I’ve never had a healthy, normal relationship with any man. I crave and fear intimacy.
- I’ve never been truly appreciated as a woman by a man. The first man I loved ruined my self esteem in ways I’ve yet to overcome. None since him have been given the opportunity to try. I can’t seem to find the key that will unlock the person I know I want to be.
My new adventure is to find the key that will unlock the answers and hopefully shed some light on my issues, and I’ll be going about it in my own unorthodox way. I will keep up the stories of my own past sexual experiences to help me work out my issues. I hope that in doing so I might heal the psychological scars.
I need a triple Venti Mocha today x 3, if the Starbucks gods are listening.
That is all.
Sorry to use that song as a tag line, but it’s apropos for today. I’m sitting at my desk enjoying a Whataburger breakfast taquito (yummmmmmmmmmy), reading blog posts and wondering how I’ll get through today.
This is not typical thinking for me.
I generally just slog through any given day and don’t have an actual deep thought as to how I’m feeling. I try to ignore my feelings as much as possible because they suck me into a deeper black hole than I’m already in. I don’t want to ponder my unhappiness. Instead I just focus on the issues that make me unhappy. I don’t know if that makes sense except in my own head.
Since I refuse to seek out psychiatric counseling any more due to the negative effects I’ve encountered in the past, writing is now my therapy. To put what I think into written words and then allowing others to read them, is a huge step for me. The other day I did a post on the A-Z of my feelings. It was a trigger of sorts that has been rather toxic for me since. I’ve never been comfortable exposing my inner turmoil. My ex-husband was the only person I have ever told my deepest, darkest secrets to. It turns out that in doing so only caused him to pity me and then he would use those issues against me in the worst possible ways.
I’m trying to work past being scared of allowing others to learn about my history for fear of recrimination, judgement, scorn, dislike, etc. You get the point. I want to not care what others may think about me. Impossible but still my goal.
I’ve been dealing with chronic manic depression for close to 20 years. I never knew I was most likely depressed my entire childhood, teenage years and well into adulthood until I started working in the medical field at age 23. I hadn’t realized I’d been suppressing all my issues with non-prescription drugs and alcohol. Once I stopped them, all the demons let loose like a pack of panicked wildebeests. Over the years I’ve had major crisis’ that brought me to my knees and I’ve managed to medicate myself back into mental stability. I hate being medicated. It saves me from myself so I do it without fail and won’t ever stop. I’m thinking about asking for a mood stabilizer in addition to my anti-depressant but fear the side effects. I don’t react well to most medications. This complicates my ability to ask for help. The fear of the unexpected. It’ll take me a few days longer to decide what to do until after I collect more intel via Google searches about the medications I want to present to my doctor as choices. That’s one thing I appreciate, is that she takes into account my suggestions. We’ve known each other a long time and have worked together professionally in the past. She and I have spent many hours discussing my ability to self diagnose my symptoms, what is possibly causing them, the inherent risks, and possible treatment options. Who should know me better than myself?
Bitchy, bitter, grumpy, annoyed, lonely, tired, sad, confused, bored, unhappy, broke, frazzled,and generally just blah. Maybe it’s the change in weather or the change in time. I don’t the answer yet. I have a million concerns that bother me regularly, just have to figure what to tackle first.
I’m bound to figure this out and I’ll stop all this nonsense. Until then, thanks for reading and commenting.
November by its very existence is a great month to me. It means no more October. The final kibosh on summer. But thanks to the “W” we got extra daylight savings time at the beginning of November and I really hate it. I for one believe it should be wiped off the books. It’s the absolute fuck you to our sleep patterns. I love driving to work in the dark and come home when it’s light. However, I don’t enjoy the reverse. I feel like I stayed 3 hours late at work when it’s dark thirty by 5 o’clock. I’m ready for bed by 7 when it’s dark early. I fret about what I won’t be able to do for months now that it’s dark so early. Why you ask?
I can’t see for shit at night to drive. It makes me so Damn nervous I can barely function. I literally will put off any and everything to avoid going out after dark. This has only become a real phobia within the last 7 years or so. Actually most of my phobia issues began then too. Hmm, gonna have to investigate that one.
Back to DST, sorry to abbreviate, why can’t we just leave the clocks alone? Who really benefits from this? I need answers and I need to move somewhere other than Phoenix or Indianapolis that don’t adhere to this idiotic law. Anyone care besides me?
Tomorrow is going to suck ass cause I’m going to be tired and under-caffeinated. Grumpy, irritable and just plain mean. I love I can use DST as my excuse instead of the usual one, me just being me.
So to all the asshats in Congress, the Senate and the White House who continue to worry about gun laws and abortion rights, Ebola and ISIS, Please get rid of DST for the entire nation first. Oh yeah , and no more Columbus Day, we ain’t buying that bullshit story either! While I’m at, only Pennsylvania can celebrate Groundhog Day, fer reelz peeps, Phil is an asshole.
Trick or treating…no thanks. I don’t get Halloween. Never have. It’s a bizarre tradition that I find the strictest of heathens enjoy way too much. I’m not going to spend good money dressing up as someone else. I’m not going to spend $$$$ on candy I can’t enjoy eating cause I gave it all away. What I’m doing tonight is hiding out with the lights off. Not that this won’t deter even the most brain dead of children. It’s obvious mommy and daddy forgot the basic Halloween rule. “Don’t knock on doors if there aren’t lights on”.
When did that golden rule get swept under the rug?
The only time I made that mistake as a kid, a group of me & neighborhood assholes knocked on a darkened door. An old guy opened the door naked with a clown mask on. I’m pretty sure we left a skid marks on his porch and our shorts.
He probably lost what was left of his hearing. We didn’t report him either. We were more worried about getting more loot. I lost my enthusiasm that year for the holiday and never got it back. It definitely cemented my fear of clowns for life.
Too bad we can’t do that nowadays, lest we get arrested for exposure, or worse. But it’d serve the older kids right who have no business banging on doors after dark for candy. Talk about assholes. You don’t give them candy, they’ll come back later and trash your house.
So yee-haw everyone that still enjoys this over commercialized, useless, sad excuse for binge drinking & debauchery night. I think I’ll watch Harry Potter instead and enjoy a well deserved Friday night to myself.
p.s. Yes, I’m grumpy.
I don’t have the right words to say I what I need to currently. Not going to post until I feel better about what I’m writing.
Be back soon