Friday felt okay. I did things I enjoyed, even if they weren't strictly social. I avoided doing the things I said I would do though. Laundry went undone, yoga went undone. I stayed up until I couldn't stand being awake, and then I slept.

Saturday, I woke up, I played a few games, and then I slept more. I slept for hours. I woke again, dreading the fun plans I had made for myself. I didn't want to go out. I didn't want to do anything. I barely managed to make myself do laundry, and couldn't force myself to do yoga. I dived into more distractions to avoid dealing with things.

I messaged apologies to the people who were depending on me. The people who wanted to see me, who invited me to things, who wasted tickets on me. Hopefully they understand.

Sunday came, and I slept more. I forced myself out, to get dressed and forced nutrients into my body. I went out to a soccer game, and felt my own face curl into a frown as I watched things trigger me from the inside out. I watched as a cute lesbian couple became the sole obsession of my focus and jealousy. As they stole my vision away from the entertainment. I could feel my face curling into a frown as I heard those old voices slowly reversing their echo into my brain. I pushed my face back to normal in fear someone would see my expression.

It's not clear to me when the depression seeped back into me. But It's clear it's here again. I remember being triggered by similar imagery years ago. Seeing happy couples used to be something I had to avoid. It seems it's again going to start being a point of contention anytime I see people expressing their love for one another. Some, apparent, privilege I don't seem to have.

I'm not sure what makes me feel worse, the fact that this is still an issue for me, or the fact that I'm still here, purging negative emotions into an empty canvass for what seems like the 20,000th time, expecting it to change anything. Reason says to be patient and optimistic, but experience says to give it up and surrender.

And now, to start another pointless week, of waiting, of hoping, of being disappointed, of regretting that I've yet spent another one in this miserable experience. I've begun the process of removing myself from places I don't feel are beneficial (poly groups that end up being circle jerks of privileged folks congratulating each other how great their lives are). We'll see if anything else ends up going out with the bath water.


Intimacy and Vulnerability

This past week saw yet another tidal low. Sparked by the ongoing isolation and lack of progress in life. The general feeling of stagnation has always been a triggering point for my lows.

The one positive thing to come out of this low however, is an ongoing discussion about what I desire in said times, and what my hang ups around intimacy might be.

Working with my most recent ex, and still good friend, to talk through the depths of the depression, it was asked what it was I needed. The loneliness sparks depression, and one of the best salves for it is physical touch, and closeness. It's why I typically so often go to visit friends in a low. But for all of emotional intimacy that I share with them, it doesn't feel as valid or intense, as it does with a romantic partner.

I feel a more intense and cathartic connection with my ex, than I do with my best friends for the past two or so years. Despite the fact that we only dated for maybe two months.

I get ahead of myself though. The things I need in a depression are physical closeness, to be heard, to seen/acknowledged/witnessed, emotional closeness/intimacy, and reassurance.

I can get a variation of all of these with good friends. But only with romantic partners do I feel like I get all of them. It illustrates why I pine for partners so hard, and why I'm so reluctant to let them go even when it's for the best.

So what can I only get in a romantic relationship? Well, the key difference being the physical connection, be it sex, or kink, paired with the emotional. There's a vulnerability there that is accepted and seen that isn't present in a friendship that doesn't share that. It's a physical manifestation of the emotional connection, the pairing and truely seeing of one another, in a physical bond, that I don't typically get within a friendship. I don't feel seen in the same way. My friends are my allies, but I don't feel vulnerable to them.

Which, also paints to why I typically don't enjoy physical connections that don't have an emotional aspect. Casual sex and pick up play have always felt hollow for lacking that emotional context. I can enjoy the physical sensations, but at the end of the day, my emotional center isn't attached.

This, is where things get interesting.

There are two things that I want to discuss in relation to that statement. The first, is that then, a simple explanation of demisexuality? Do I feel that experience, as a manifestation of my sexual style as demi? Or, have I ascribed a label to my particular brand of fucked up sexuality, that just happens to fit perfectly?

The latter, which blends into the reason of the first, my fucked up sexuality/body to mind connection:

I probing why I have a split between body and emotional and mental center, it seems to make sense that after spending so many years detaching who I was from my body, things I enjoyed from my body, things I took pleasure in, from my body, that things that directed pleasure from my body aren't inherently wired back into those same pleasure centers in my mind or emotions.

That is to say, I can reconnect them from the mind, to the body, but the reverse isn't true. It explains why I have a hard time finding people attractive until I know them better. I wasn't sure about my ex at first meeting, but six weeks later and I'm staring at her in a coffee shop like a sixteen year old girl wrapped around her finger. It literally alters my perception of people. That, is incredibly shocking to me.

But it also explains why, once an emotional connection is in place, having the physical connection is so fulfilling and cathartic to me. It's so rare and so historically unknown to my body, that any physical intimacy is incredible. That feeling of vulnerability and of being truely seen and appreciated and loved both emotionally and physically, erases a lot of the baggage and bullshit I've built up over the years.

When asked, how I might begin to provide that need for myself. I had no answers. I did know why I couldn't however, and that's because of the long ongoing war I have with my body. There is a bitterness, a resentment, and an animosity I have towards it that prevents me from feeling truely compassionate towards myself. You can't be close or love someone you dislike. You can't feel compassion and resentment at the same time.


Oh, right.

I seem to have stumbled back into the midst of my depression out of nowhere. I have trouble focusing on anything that isn't an immediate distraction. The isolation is pretty chilling, and I find myself reaching out to connect to people for emotional intimacy, only to find them not reaching out in kind. I can't blame them, people have their own lives to lead and such.

This among the ongoing light being shined onto trans folk around the nation, and seeing how hated and feared we are as people.

Along with the ongoing existential dread of realizing that my generation has no real economic or environmental future to speak of, and there just doesn't seem to be a lot of reason to exist at the moment.

I feel alone, and hated, and discouraged. The lack of romantic interest, and the feeling of being unwanted compound into a general hopelessness of ever being emotionally or sexually satisfied. Meanwhile I sit and watch every cisgender person I know entertain multiple offers from multiple people, while everyone claims to open to dating trans folk.

Maybe I'm just a terrible person to be around, or maybe I am as ugly as I think I am. Either way it doesn't change the end results.

I just, never could find much of a point to this, and now more than ever there seems to be less of a reason to continue putting up with it.



This past week has seen a lot of interesting analysis of some of my preconceptions. Specifically, in the past I've always held the notions that love, and relationships were a single thing. You found a person you liked, and they were either the whole package of everything you wanted, or enough of that, to warrant continued investment in a romantic partnership.

A few years ago I questioned that notion, or rather, let myself be open to it as the woman I was interested in, was also seeing someone else.

It became a bit more clear then, that in the absence of that perfect match, it was more fulfilling to date multiple people, and get different aspects of what you need, from different people. This is a great theory, though, in application I rarely find more than one person ever wants to date me at once. I admit it is a possible scenario though. (look at me, being an optimist).

Recently though, in starting up negotiations for a play date (dinner, then being tied up and beaten with things, consensual and such), with an ex partner,I began to question some new aspects.

I was apprehensive because of my lingering romantic feelings, that aren't shared. I didn't want to start up this potentially intimate and charged activity, if it was going to produce further heartache because we aren't romantic. Likewise, I worried that it would be a stale and cold affair, that left me feeling disposable, and unwanted. Not only is that a sad realization, but it hinders my ability to enjoy the very activities the night was planned around.

Which left me asking, is it possible to get this sort of affection and activity, outside the context of a relationship? Perhaps I'm prejudiced against the term of Friends with Benefits, but it was my understanding that benefits only typically came in the relationship context. Realizing that it doesn't inherently mean that, makes our initial break up feel much easier to tolerate. Break ups still instinctively mean a withdraw of all the things I enjoy of a relationship, but perhaps now it can be more of a shift in dynamic, rather than a full on cutting off of emotion.

Meaning, now, the idea is to grab whatever your needs are, from anyone who will provide them, and worry about the context after the fact It's a bit like relationship anarchy/solo poly. It's strange.

All of this said, the night went well, and I've found myself in a nice mood of content me. Sub drop continues to be a real issue, but I think between distraction, and medication, I can mitigate all but the worst of it.


The Circus is in Town

I find myself going through long bouts of dichotomies. I spent most of Monday in a highly derealized state. I struggled to focus on anything, and everything felt like a dream. I was present, and could listen and talk, but it all felt so fake. Reality felt fake, like I still hadn't woken up. I was on autopilot for most everything. I could tell you how and what I did, but I didn't really remember doing it.

Contrast this to today, which was much more conscious and awake. I was in a good mood and spent a lot of time enjoying things.

The struggle is in that I don't know what the next day is going to be. Will it be a struggle get through everything, or will it be a breeze.

I find myself taking liberties. I'm not challenged or engaged by anything, and I'm pretty bored most of the time. I'll spend hours on end moving from one distraction to another (usually video games) Until the next one comes along. I haven't written anything new in months. There are a few bright spots (editing a bit got started, finally), but by and large it all feels mostly pointless.

I know a few other people are going through hard times, and I try to be as nice and helpful as I can be to them. It's a strange sensation to feel your depression seeping back in. Perhaps it's just the come down from good mood, but feeling hopeless is never a welcome thing.

I'm content in being a sideshow, but the pining for a main event will always hurt.


Happy Accidents

I was within twelve hours of being completely off my medication. I'd dropped down to half my normal dosage in an attempt to make it last until I could get my prescription refilled. The results were not enjoyable. It's interesting to me now to observe how drastic and disabling the depression becomes when unmedicated. Had I just gotten used to functioning through it? Or has it become that much more severe? Or, have I just forgotten what it was like now that I had a period of two or so good weeks? Pointless questions really, in the end it's an observable difference. Being off the medication, at this point in time, is a recipe for disaster. It makes me suicidal, it makes me debilitated and unable to perform the most basic of functions.

At least, on the medication, I can attempt to function as a human. I can be sad, and still go about my day. How I'm going to go about getting off the medication is a problem for another day.

As is, my emotions are chaos. My mood and energy are artificially elevated, buy my emotions are still incredibly low. I'm not opposed to suicide, it seems like one of those happy accidents that just happens and it's, sorta just fine. I tell myself that it will get better, and I try to believe it. It sometimes works.

Given all that, I still feel incredibly isolated. My typical day involves talking to coworkers through text chat only. I commute via bus and don't speak to anyone. I work in an office by myself, and have a single daily meeting, where in I don't speak, and no one really asks me anything. I..don't really think I spoke to a single person today outside of the woman dishing out food in the cafeteria, and that's hardly what I call an intimate conversation.

It all contributes to feeling alone. And feeling unworthy and unlovable. Which, is bad enough in itself, it's worse in dealing with chaotic mental imbalances. I'm too exhausted to try and pursue people anymore, and I'm too undesirable to be pursued in any real manor.

I just try and write my stories, and live vicariously through those characters, in the hope I can write them a better life than the one I have. There's no better definition of escapism than that.


A steady wilting

The last ten days or so have been pretty good. I've been incredibly busy, work takes from six in the morning until about six in the evening all said and done. By the time I factor in dilation, yoga, and a brief workout and dinner, it's maybe an hour before bed. Tonight, I had no time to actually do anything since I had some chores to take care of spent some time talking to a friend before coming home.

The excitement of the new job has given way to the reality of it all, and while it's a refreshing change from the last job, the realization of boredom of what I'm being asked to do on a daily basis is starting to creep in.

I find myself aching to write more of my story, without really knowing what to, or how to write it. It's just the urge to be doing something I think.

Intermixed, I've been dealing with a restricted dosage of my medication due to a rescheduling of appointments, and a few obstinate doctors not refilling things as they said they would. This may be the cause of my lows seeping back in. Though, it could be any number of this that are correlating to this point.

There wasn't anything to trigger the lows, just, lack of sleep, and emotional exhaustion from dealing with privileged cisgender idiots on the internet. Engaging with them is beneath me, yet it's addictive to want to defend my space and my rights from attack. Solidarity is nice, but it doesn't refill my energy.

It's remarkable how fast the suicidal ideation returns too. All in all, objectively, things are much better than they have been for a while. Yet, emotionally, mentally, I feel drained and apathetic. Like I've had the life energy sucked out of me again.

Romantically, I still miss people. Both my most recent relationships occupy a good deal of mind space. The more recent obviously the more mentally taxing. The one positive aspect is that between my new lack of time is I've less energy to focus on her moving on and forgetting about me. I find a lot of internalized transphobia pops up in those moments (who wouldn't, why would anyone want to date you, you're entirely forgettable, You don't deserve someone like her anyway, etc). In focusing on this new gig, I can at least put that mental energy to better suited things.

In the midst of such, I find myself purging unnecessary social groups that tax and divide my energies. My efforts are better spent working on my life, rather than arguing pedantic and insufferable comments with strangers. With no romantic motivations, those social groups hold no value anymore.

There are a few lights dancing on the horizon, but they're faint, and if they become something of a romantic nature, I'll gladly embrace them, but at this point, hope is a luxury I can no longer afford.

Embrace the spinster, get a cat. Wait, I don't have time for a cat, I can't even keep my plant happy.