Next week I start work at a new gig. It's been six months since I was last employed. While I'm excited to start a new process, I'm depressed by my financial situation. I'll survive, but it's that area between being poor enough for assistance and rich enough to live comfortably. It will manage for now, somehow.
It is on one hand, a great relief to not have to worry about money, but at the same time a great new stress to deal with.
It continues. After four or so years my therapist is leaving her current practice, which means I now get to reestablish myself with a new therapist. She's been arguably the longest running relationship I've had since moving here (granted I pay her for it). Still, it's a sad and tedious thing to have to re-engage in. Another emotional labor tax that I'll have to deal with.
In an effort to push the boundaries of my comfort, I've started going out to to events I'd normally be uncomfortable at. This started with a few Kink parties, and engaging in pick-up play (play with people I don't know well or at all). It's so far been okay, and enjoyable, even if I have to fake my attraction to people. They beat me, I enjoy it, we thank each other, and I pretend we'll do it again sometime. There is no desire for them in my life however. They're great people I'm sure, but I've just, no urge for them. The endorphine drop kicks in and I cry myself to sleep.
The urge, is for someone who doesn't want me. I think about her anytime I'm hit with something, I think about her anytime a cane or hand bruises my flesh. I think about her anytime someone mentions the word collar, or talks about a cage. I think about her when I walk through downtown, when I eat dark chocolate. When I work out, and when I take photos of my body. When I check social media, and when I cry.
That's...just life. So, so much of my life can be described as painful unrequited longing. Avarice, pure and simple. It isn't a longing for something better than what I have, it's a longing for a life that is better than mine. A refusal to accept the mediocrity and pain that is my daily life can't be changed.
That urge is one reason I've started the journey of exercise to change my body into something desirable. Childish fantasies of being good enough for an ex aside, it's helped with the depression. Feeling agency over my body is a nice feeling. Along with it though, has seen a reemergence of an aggressive and domineering energy. It's a very angry emotion, rooted in frustration and strength. It's a damaging emotion based in that avarice. That I have to deal with the enormity of this existence of strife, while so many unworthy others have it so easy. The anger at that unfair comparison is a tremendous source of energy and strength that I've rarely tapped into. Mostly due to it's ugly and aggressive nature.
In the midst of improving my situation, I find there's just more shit to gather. I clean up one pile, and another pile oozes out of the cracks for me to sort through and clean up. A great part of me wants to descend into a bottle and never come out again. Anything to make this easier, anything to get her off my mind.
Sometimes I do really wish I could rip people out of me. It would be worth the massive scaring.
And then tomorrow, I dawn my mask of my best self, and pretend that graceful creature is who I really am. I can wear her for a while, pretend her soft flesh and strength, ease of grace and elegance, are yy own, but both of us know I'm an imposter.
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