I honestly don't know what's wrong anymore. It felt like for about six months now that the medication was really helping. Now though, it feels like I stopped taking it, even while I continue my normal dosages. Perhaps my system has adjusted, but I wouldn't think it was have such drastic effects.
I know, I could be doing more to help it out. I've struggled to get my body moving again, the yoga and exercise I had been doing so regularly is now a monumental struggle. I haven't written anything in months either. Both are things I thought generally helped me feel productive, and helped my mood, but lately I haven't had either the energy, motivation, believe in, and capacity to do.
The time I spend alone, I find myself wincing through as if in constant physical pain. I've lost the enjoyment of nearly all the things I used to enjoy, and I flutter from distraction to distraction as soon as possible much to the chagrin of my wallet. I've basically come up with any excuse possible to stop going into the office because there's no point in doing so.
My negative self talk is constant, and the violent visions and fantasies have crept back in. I am cognizant that these aren't normal, aren't reasonable, and aren't healthy, but you can only tune out the background radiation of self-loathing for so long before you believe it.
Every now and then I will feel a sense of conflict over it, and an urge to fight back, but it feels a bit like seeing someone else's arm plunging into the water as you drown some hundred meters down. You could, if you chose, make an effort to reach back, but you're so far gone there's no point in wasting the energy. Easier to just let it all go and stop fighting it.
And I am so so tired of fighting it.
5.31.2016
5.23.2016
Weakend
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.
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.
5.11.2016
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.
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.
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