Beating the War Drums

These are tired drums. The old war between my body and mind is one fought for many, many years and for a while a decent armistice seemed to brew. Now though, tensions are starting back up. I could spend the hours trying to figure out the innevitable cause, but end the end it doesn't really matter. Be it stress, or hormonal fluctuations, or what have you, this existence is never one I will be at peace with. that thought, that I'll always be blaming and pointing at my trans identity as the root cause for all my personal, and interpersonal woes, is exceedingly exhausting. It would be reasonable if say, post surgery, I could just cast off the identity like so much baggage and proclaim myself cured, but that's not an option.

 

Speaking of, There's about 6 months until then, and I'm slowly coming to simply accept the fact that my parts will be ugly to me. At least then though their form will follow and match how they should. I can live with an ugly vagina, hell it matches the fucked up and ugly rest of me, so why should it stand out as being normal. I find myself asking why again, which I expect will start coming back up again as it draws closer.

I'm starting to feel numb again. My hunger and body signals are slowing down or becoming quiet, I don't know when I'm hungry or at least I never feel the urge to eat. I occasionally think about food if it comes up, but by and large its a thing I don't put thought into. This mirrors my thoughts on anything else, I'm bored and distracted easily, I find no real attraction or happiness from things. My sex drive or desire for affection has fallen off the face of the planet.

I don't want to do anything, and everything sounds like shit. I'm withdrawn, unsocial, and by and large simply depressed. In that though, It feels like disillusionment. Like there is no point or hope in trying to find the things I feel are missing from my life, the things that I feel are unsatisified. I base this, entirely off the few times that I can remember feeling as such, and trying to pursue the same avenues again (finding an D/S relationship for one). But even that I can't say was established in a firm ground of emotional health, wellbeing and secure/reassured reality. More, thrown into a full on NRE ecstacy filled abusive drug habbit with someone who seemed to get off on the idea. I remember being happy (or at least, the abuse led me to believe I was) and now I pursue that again because its one of the few times I remember not feeling partially empty inside.

Not to cast out the efforts and strides of my partner, who genuinly is wonderful. That relationship however, just isn't, and can't be the entirety of my desires. I hate that I continue to look for that missing piece, and I hate that I never find, and that I feel like I never will, and that there is no point in searching. It feels like I just have to accept the fact that I'll feel partially empty and hollow for the rest of my life, living a pale, shallow existence devoid of anything resembling meaning or passion. People say do what you love, or do what you want to do with your time. I have no idea what that is, and no idea where to even begin looking

Weary Eyes and Cold Tea

It's hard to describe what all I'm feeling. There's a plethora of shit going on in my head and it all just seems to be compounding in on itself. Between the ongoing stress in trying to find a reason or purpose in my life, and then all this new found other stress from a polyamourous relationship is just starting to weigh on me.

Then, of course, there is a now renewed desire to start cutting again. Which, while I debated heavily last night is still yet to happen for various reasons. I'm still not quite sure what my plans are on that front. Part of me feels I need the emotional release and control that it would bring, but another doesn't want to go back down that alley, and the last few times that I have decided to, haven't been that great at granted said desires, or rewarded. So, it is, as of yet, undecided. The desire, however, remains.

The poly problems, which more or less started this week, revolve around the hurt from people being careless with my emotions. I felt hurt, obviously, mainly dealing with the fact that in a time designed to be spent with my primary partner, after being left with nothing to do for a bit, opted to visit her new flame for what was intending to be a 4 hour jaunt. This then turned into an all day/night thing.

Thus not knowing when she would be back, and not really having anything to do on my own, resulted in a wasted Friday being spent watching Star Trek. I don't mind these things on a normal weekday, they are routine in their acceptability, but not my ideal way of spending one of the few days that I have time in which to do things.

I'm not upset at her having a new flame, I've encouraged it as there are aspects of our relationship that are unfulfilled, and I don't wish for her to be stuck without them. However I felt somewhat used, more as a closet and maid, than for any possible sexual reason. When the time meant to be spent together is then used to spend time with someone else. The word abandoned was mentioned, but that feels more extreme than I want it to. I don't worry that the relationship is over, or that I'll be neglected like my last relationship, which I think would be more akin to the meaning of the word. There was however a deep sense of isolation, disappointment, and hurt. Along with speckles of betrayal. Not in the "Et Tu brutus" sort of sense, but more in a being lied to sort of way, even if unintentional.

To compound on that sentiment, acting in either my masochism or plain idiocy, I opted to discuss, in vague terms, what was going on with my ex (I prefer to keep her at best, a few arms lengths away from my emotionality). This, predictably, didn't end well (in case you wondered why). In short, my venting was taken as an opportunity to critique my character and boast, albeit unintentionally, about her own situation. I'm starting to find that interactions with her end more and more with "oh fuck you". At which point it's probably not a good idea to continue conversing with her.

In the midst of the night, while feeling the plethora of shit cocktail, the friends and other partners that I did try to confide in either weren't intimately acquainted enough to feel comfortable properly conveying my emotions, or were too busy to deal with me. Which, inevitably ended up with my feeling even worse, both for annoying/pestering them, and for my continued exacerbated isolation.

I worry about being too isolated because it is in such that the worse thoughts come to bear. The suicidal and violent thoughts that I may often have but don't give much credence to come back stronger and magnified in isolation, especially when predisposed to a negative mood. I do not like being tempted/teased in this regard, I find it dangerous and unhealthy. I've no outright objection to the thoughts, but I dislike the idea of being in between them. Such, I suppose, is the curse of being a fatalist, however. I want things to happen, one way or the other, not be stuck in some half-assed half-state somewhere in between. A fitting parallel for my life, in fact.

I write this now, in the late morning trying to wrap my head around things and figure out how I feel, and what I can do to lift this veil of depression. She has apologized and I accepted it, but that doesn't repair the hurt that I feel. I'm trying, but I still can't help but feel somewhat displaced and offput by things. I'm trying hard to restrain from feeling bitter, jaded, and cynical. Though the struggle continues to be pervasive. I find myself wanting to lash out and say hurtful things, but, I've yet to sink into that much self-loathing.

One cannot claim to be graceful if it shreds at the first sign of an ill fitted environment. Grace under fire is my definition of the word. This may though, by the most extreme test of said quality to date.

Diction

Recently I've been fighting my brain on a few things, and doubting, inherently, my emotions. A relationship I've entered into has been going very well, and it has elevated my mood tremendously, but, as there is always a but, I find myself focusing on what is missing, and making comparisons with past relationships, relationships that were unhealthy.

This new relationship has some parallels, but not in any manner that matters. In terms of relationship health it is by far easier, more healthy, more positive, more open and less abusive than my last relationship. These are all wonderful things, and they have made it very easy and fun to be in. Yet, As time as progressed, I find myself questioning the aspect of Love, and what it means. How it may be different from Infatuation/Obsession, and if that matters.

For all the negatives of my last relationship, it did, at a minimum, give me butterflies. My heart ached, and felt deeply entwined and wrapped up in my partner at the time. Looking back at those blogs of the time, and the insanity that I felt, and the horrifying feeling of being overwhelmed. It was above else, intense.

I'm not sure, and haven't been for a while, if that was love. It felt like it, but, so much of that relationship was designed to overwhelm, and much of it was manipulative, both by her, and by me putting myself in an easy place to be taken advantage of, all the while swimming around with my head in the pink cloud of her perfume like so many animated cats.

The new relationship, should, by all means replicate this sensation, yet I remain feet firmly planted, and this is upsetting. Am I making unfair comparisons to how I felt during different relationships? Am I now hindered from feeling in love since my definition has since changed based on an infatuation? If that is now being "In Love" then what do I feel now, I care for someone, but is it fair/justifiable to say I love them when I'm still terra-bound, and not intoxicated by them? Does this set me up to fail then, if I'm wanting and waiting to be shoved off my feat by people ignoring my boundaries and taking advantage of me? Does it even matter if I'm not given butterflies, or that I don't feel overwhelmed?

I'm confused, and I imagine that can lead anyone to doubt, or feel a bit emotionally numb. It has been a very long time since I've engaged my emotions to their full spectrum. While my anger has always been easily tapped and an endless resource of spite, I'm not used to being over-stimulated in dopamine, and it has thus rendered me a bit bottlenecked and bandwidth capped at the moment. This past month has been by and large a blur.

It feels odd saying I don't feel anything, and having it unrelated to depression. It is interesting to notice however, as my dysphoria events have also diminished significantly. At least, my focus on them has as well.

But I am at a bit of a loss for words, or, at least, loss of which words.

Delayed gratification

It has become an issue, again, how I reveal my trans status to people. It is something I've had to be extremely flexible on in the past, despite the fact it really bothers me to not disclose things upfront. I'm out on FetLife, but not on OkCupid. This is intentional as I find FL to be a lot more accepting as a whole.

The issue, is that people are, well, cowards. They scare easily, like timid mice when something confronts them that is outside of their comfort zones. This complicates things for me. I would be completely out about my status if I thought people would be willing to consider it fully, and honestly, upfront. Yet, my past experience has proven this to not be the case. If I reveal my status on OkCupid the messages I get drop off fantastically, between the area of 5-10 a week to maybe 1-2 a month. More so, when I do tell people I haven't met in person, despite the qualities they self proclaim themselves to have, the messages inevitably begin to go unanswered, plans canceled, and excuses found. It is by far much easier for them to simply move on to the next available person. To cast out all the conversation and dialogue that have been had, all the bonding and passed tests that are obligatory in dating, and start anew with someone else.

I have found that if people have an invested interest, however, they are far more willing to consider things in good conscience. It isn't so easy to discard a person if you've made out with them before, or are friends with them, or have good memories with them, or enjoy their company.

My goal in this, is not to deceive anyone, or to mislead anyone. Honesty is one of my salient goals in all things. I don't like withholding things, or beating around bushes. I've forced myself to develop skills in confrontation and addressing  uncomfortable issues. Yet, on this aspect, I find myself hesitating.

All I want, is to have a dinner with someone while discussing the issue. I consider it success if I can get to that point, because sadly, most of my dates and interests don't make it that far. 90% of the people I've come out to have ended in a cowardly rejection via neglect.

This logic follows then:

1. If they are genuinely interested in who I am as a person, then they will still want to be friends if they aren't comfortable with my gender status.
   
   
2. If they aren't willing to be friends, then either A, they just wanted sex to begin with, or B, they aren't that interested in me as a person.

So, getting them interested/invested in me as a person, either secures me a friend that I was interested in but won't be partners with, or, clarifies that they were only looking for/wanting a sexual relationship to begin with. (the idea, being, that they believe being with a trans person is so grave, they don't even want to be friends, despite indicating being interested in me, prior to being enlightened).

This, so far, has been a pretty good mark for things. The few who have turned into friends have agreed to the dinner (or didn't need one), and the ones who didn't, well didn't, and were written off.

So now, I'm at this crux again, dreading the "oh, by the way" conversation that is Damocles'ing it's way through time as I write this. I dread this conversation because it puts me on face level with my rejection. It is a direct statement and judgement on myself as a person of value, and if that value is worth more than the effort it takes to move outside of a comfort zone. Where as being public about the information I avoid the risk, and isolate/insulate myself from the silent rejection of those that would have otherwise been interested. With delaying the decision, I see both those who are willing, and the masses who are not.

The judgement being, the greater of my value as a person, compared to the difficulty and effort involved in moving outside of a person's given comfort zone. Hence why it is easier to be public on FetLife, Kinksters, I believe, have an inherently easier time moving outside a given comfort zone.

I'm aware of the subjectivity of this judgment, and, how I can easily dismiss and brush away the opinion of those who are judging my value as a reflection on themselves, rather than on my value. I often do. However, it does, over time, begin to sink into you like spilled cherry Kool-Aid through a roll of paper towels. Yet, where your mom would thus forbid you from drinking Kool-Aid anymore, I am routinely putting myself over the expensive new carpet, taking long, deep swaths of sugar water in a search for something greater than myself, and a level of satisfaction and happiness that I know is out there, but can't seem to find. Failing to heed the obvious signs of self-harm and damage being done to the carpet in various forms of other red fluids.

The Tumultuous Turmoil of Tinkering

Things are tumultuous. My days are ranging from a physically sickening level of depression and feelings of lost helplessness, to being okay and nigh bearable. I've increased the frequency of my therapy sessions to once a week until I can get out of this fog. In addition, my acupuncture and massage therapy seems to be helping, at least on the days I have them.

I've been taking Sundays as a self care day that prohibits sitting on my computer for extended periods of the day. I believe one of the main issues is one that I've faced previously. When I first started therapy a few years ago to deal with my depression, I couldn't figure out who I was, I didn't know what I enjoyed, or liked, and nothing felt like fun. I find myself facing the same feelings.

I've begun to loath myself for my laziness, and my addiction to escapism. I refuse to play my guitar, to try to compose anything, to draw, or write, or sing, or anything because I know I won't be any good at it. I'm approaching it as a means to and end, rather than as an activity to enjoy for the sake of doing the activity. it is the same petty childish mindset that paralyzed me as a teenager. The "I can't be perfect, so I'm not going to try" sense of fatalistic self-deprecation that keeps me attuned to depressions and infatuations with all I can't do, rather than what I can. I get so wrapped up in my lack of ability to achieve my end goal/desire/validation, that I forget the reason I started doing it in the first place.

If I had spent as much time as I do playing games, doing some form of art, I'd likely be a master at it. Games have a level cap, there is an attainable end goal, which, I guess is one reason they appeal to me. Life, itself has an end goal. The mortality aspect of life means at some point we all finish. My obsession with this seems to be a similar motif. Focusing on end goals and achievements, rather than the act or journey itself for the fun of it.

The theory behind all this is fairly simple, but the applications towards my behaviors and mindsets are much more stubborn. If you were to imagine my identity as a pie chart, I'd say a good 65-70% is taken up by my identity as a trans-woman. This, is almost always a negative aspect, as being trans largely fucking sucks 98% of the time. The rest, that 30%, is at any time taken up by various other identities, hobbies, relationships, and anything else you might attribute to intrapersonal or external stimuli. The two parts (internal/external identities) are largely intertwined and a depression/trauma in one can cause the other to collapse, exacerbate, or respond in a similar way.

You can see this in my lack of satisfaction in my personal life, which largely leads to my focusing on my lack of satisfaction in who I am as a person. It comes down to how I look at things, I see negatives easier than I see positives. Chalk that up to whatever you will, but I have situated myself on a precarious mountainside slope. It is vastly easier for momentum and gravity to carry me downward in a snowballing effect of depression and negative emotions. Likewise, pulling myself up, in a positive way feels unnatural for me, it is a struggle and requires far greater amounts of work the more alone I feel.

It is, however, definitely easier to climb the mountain with people helping me. I know, this is an unpopular statement, and considered a red flag for some. People say "you should be content to be alone, before you try being in a relationship". That is fine and dandy if you're perfect. If you've no emotional problems or mental illness (which depression most certainly is). Personally, I find it bullshit. Humans are social creatures, we die if we are isolated long enough. We all want and desire to have friends, partners, relationships, and families. I do NOT think the desire for that, or the need for that, is a bad thing. Nor do I find that inherently abusive, addictive, or problematic. I consider myself a broken clock. I require a little elbow grease and work, but can be polished nicely, and end up being a rewarding, lovely, and entirely fantastic experience.

The ability to be content by one's self, to me, definitely feels like a privilege of the healthy, wealthy, cisgender, and untroubled. It is easy to be content with yourself, when you aren't constantly at war with yourself over things you have no ability to change, but the utmost paramount and salient desire to do so.

SO, that rant aside, the schematics of my emotional framework on display. Where, do I go from here?

Endure, Master Wayne.

Reading through this book, I see so much more than I did prior to transitioning. It is where I draw my name, and the similarities are striking. I find myself laughing, hysterically, and then weeping. The latter, on this passage;

But she had become a goddess and he could not help it if he were astonished. She had always been beautiful in his eyes, and admirable, too. He had worshipped her, in some ways, for her courage in adversity, for her resistance to the ways of his own world. But that had been bravery under siege and now, it seemed, she single-handedly gave siege to that same society which, a few months before, had threatened to engulf and destroy her identity. There was a determination in her bearing, a lightness, an air of confidence that proclaimed to everyone what he had always sensed in her -- and he was proud that his world should see her as the woman he knew, in full command of herself and of her situation. Yet there was, as well, a private knowledge, an intimate understanding between them, of the resources of character she drew to achieve that command. For the first time he became conscious of the depth of his love for her and, although he had always known that she had loved him, he became confident that her emotion was as strong as his own. Like her, he required no declaration; her bearing was declaration enough.

I had been meaning to write for a while, but I find I often lack the energy or motivation. My depression grows daily, and while some days I fight it off more than others, the beast wins more and more. The monotony, the daily bullshit is just..exasperating. Every week is the same, every day is the same, with mere strange changing of temperatures to make the seasons. Ask me what I've done the past year and I can't tell you. I feel useless, and meaningless. I find myself wishing I'd get hit by a car, or mugged, or robbed, just for a change of pace. I know better than to hope for positive things to happen randomly to me.

I deceive myself. I surround myself with avenues for creation, yet I never use them. I play, I write, I sing, I compose, or, rather, I have the ability to. Yet when I sit down and get ready to, nothing comes. My mind is blank and my emotions freeze. I shrug my shoulders of it in frustration and return to mind numbing escapism. I read, I play games, I do anything and everything I can to not think about things. Until something triggers me, like the passage above, and I twitch, spasm, and then just bawl my eyes out at the frustration, envy, and anger, so much anger, of everything.

I don't pine for my ex-love any longer. I am cautious, but the intense desire is gone. I realize now how young, and nubile ze is, and how not-ready for me ze is. Instead I long for the feelings produced then, I miss being drunk on love, of finally after so many years being able to let my guard down with someone. It was premature, I recognize that, but it was honest. Now, everything just feels passionless, the days blend together and there is just, nothing there. I question my motivations for everything and habit or routine are the only answers I find.

I am struggling heavily with the question of why. What purpose or driving factor do I have in my life? It is a question I have had since I was a little thing, and I've never had a good answer. I went to school because I was supposed to, I went to college because It delayed that question, I went to graduate school because it delayed that question. My motif in life has been to improve it, personal growth, and positive change above all things. I'm lost as to what direction that now means.

For a long, long time I thought it meant love. So I put myself out there, in often uncomfortable, abusive situations, because I felt that sacrifice or being uncomfortable meant doing difficult things, and thus growth, as a person. It hurt when people mistook that for weakness, or a fear of being alone. Now, being able to say I know what being IN love feels like, and yes, that word makes a remarkable difference. I'm not sure my purpose is there, and if it isn't I'm not sure where I've left to look.  More so, I'm quickly encroaching on Middle age, and I fear greatly holding out hope. and living a shit life for the naive idea that one day I'll find someone. Only to look back at the past 10-20-40 years at how much of my life I wasted, sitting here, typing entries about pining for a reason that never came.

My life, as such, then, is not enjoyable by default. Why should I have to endure?

Sweetness Lost

I can tell that I'm moving on. I find myself no longer compulsively thinking of my ex, and now, when I do run across something that does remind me, I don't communicate that. I've lost the urge to be sweet, to remind hir that ze is in my thoughts. It, feels very hollow, and depressing though. I enjoy, being able to do those things, and to share how I feel with someone. I enjoy being attracted and sweet to people, and to mean it.

That just feels lost now. I find myself perusing for people. Not as a replacement, but just as companionship. I still have desires that aren't being filled, and weren't being filled regardless of the status of my most recent relationship. I find myself being cautious however, that I don't pursue someone who mimics my ex-partner. The nightmare scenario I have is that I end up pursuing someone who is exactly like my ex. I think that is unfair to all parties involved, but still, I do have a type that I am attracted to. I'm just...waiting for that type to no longer be my ex.

Which, then gets into my fatalism. How often does one find a person that checks all of your boxes, so to speak. In the history of my life, never, outside this past relationship. Which, has me worried, and saddened.

Affirmations and Acquiescence.

I find it amusing how media can sometimes reflect perfectly a mood, or an idea that I want to convey. Recently, I've decided to break things off with the primary partner I've had since January. I wrote about the issues I have had before, during all this time.

The fact is that for the past six months I have felt very low and pathetic. I have been depressed, self-hating, muted, passive, victimized, abused, neglected, and disillusioned. The worst part, however, is that I felt I deserved it all.

I identify heavily, and associate heavily with the identity of the Cancer zodiac. I need my home to be harmonious, it has to be my heaven, my sanctity and solitude. I moved to Seattle for that. I literally, abandoned everything I had that made me secure in my life, to improve my living conditions. I left all of my friends and family, my biological family, all of my relationships, the security and safety that comes with knowing a place and being familiar with it. That is how high of a priority it is for me.

Around late December, I was forced to move in with two people. I had no money, I had no job, and they were the only ones willing to let me stay there for free. I thank them for that. However the negativity that erupted from that engagement, is the stage for all of this.

That being said, in the midst of all this negativity, I fell in love. For the first time, really, I felt obsessed. Had you asked me before if I had been in love, I would have said yes, and believed it. It is, however a feeling completely and utterly unique to itself. I can now safely without doubt say I know the difference between loving someone, and being in love with them.


"No one can tell you you're in love, you just know it, through and through, balls to bones".

Being in love drowned out every other emotion and natural feeling I had. It became the priority in my life. The shitty home life that had developed, the dread and disappointment, the anger, frustration, disgust, and utter contempt that surrounded me every day, every moment I was at home was still being felt, but I was blind and deaf to it.

I continued to be, until I finally left it, and realized just how unhealthy that environment had been for me. Now, at worst, my home is neutral. At best, it is my sanctuary away from the evils and perils of the world. It is a stark and shocking difference to realize.

Why then, is love so blinding for me? I didn't have an answer for this, until I came across this page from the Evangelion Manga (read top to bottom, but right to left)

"I still hate the dark. The cold last night of the world is there. There. If only we could have stayed in the dark together. I could be there, if it was with him"





This, while different in terms of gender roles, and the sexuality of the partners, represents perfectly how love is for me. It is what I'm searching for, and what I'm longing for. The end of the world, in Misato's (the girl) world is more literal, but for me, it is symbolic of all the negativity of the world, the truely bad shit that I deal with, that crippled hole that I've often been thrown into and slid into where I can see nothing else but dread, death, and despair.

When I fall in love, all of that is bearable. I can let my guard down, I can relax, finally, and not worry about the rejection, the neglect, the self-harm, the conditional bullshit of social red flags and contracts that I'm always wary of.

In January, I thought I had found that. For a brief flicker of time, I did.

I spent February, March, April, May, and part of June trying to light that flame again. I needed it. Life was difficult to bear without it. But I was so focused on that flame that I lost sight of things. Rather than fix the problems, issues, and all the negativity being injected and ejaculated into my life, I became addicted to the medications to make it numb and bearable.

Coming away in this, recently, having fixed the large amounts of negative energy being directed towards me, I started to regain my sense of self-respect. Stepping back, away from that flame, I can see how dim it actually was, and how harshly burned I had become from it.

I still want that flame in my life, the love I felt is still there. But I will no longer let it burn me.

This, is my life. I have spent most of it alone. I will continue to spend great amounts of it continuing to feel alone. I love connections, I love human touch, human interaction, I have been devoid of it for most of my life. Yes, I get validation from it. I have learned now, though, that I cannot sacrifice myself for it.

I possess the capacity for self-sacrifice in regards to love. It is ...breath-taking to actually realize. It is also highly destructive and dangerous for me. Loving someone, requires a great deal of trust. In this instance, it was abused (unintentionally) due to my inexperience with being in love.

The danger, lies in that I do not commit but completely. It allows me to be abused, harmed, neglected, starved, asphyxiated, beaten, and broken, at will, without penalty or doubt, for and by, the person I am in love with.

In this, however, I allowed myself to be neglected, and starved in the name of a love I was afraid to lose due to the massive amounts of negativity originating from my home life.

Now, having that fixed, the value of a hurtful, damaging relationship in the name of love is diminished. My desire, to stay in this state of being, with this person, is naught. My desire to be in love, and experience that connection and intensity of emotion is still great, but not at the cost of my self-respect, and my strength of will.

My love, sweetness, romance, passion, loyalty, and commitment must be earned and cherished. I will no longer sacrifice myself for anyone who I feel does not.

Lastly, I do not scab and scar for anyone, but for the health and betterment of myself; while these wounds do run deep, they will heal just like the others.

A Funny Thing Happened

So, my switch side came back. I noticed this with one of my partners in the grocery store. It is a side of me that I associate highly with my strength and confidence. Since I started in a D/S relationship with one of my partners, my life has revolved around that. Naturally, like loosing my virginity, I place significance in that relationship, and its roles and meanings and health. The problem is, that relationship hasn't been healthy, or healthy for me. Falling in love for the first time, was...intense, and, I don't think I'll ever get over it. This relationship will forever be a part of me, and even if I decide that until things can be more equal, that it is best for me to move away emotionally, I will always have a deep, vested interest in that relationship. It doesn't necessarily mean we will stop being involved, or stop seeing each other.

I am a hopeless romantic, it feeds into my submissive role in a very synergistic way. In a very true sense I'm wanting someone to sweep me off my feet, to overwhelm me, to render my defenses moot. To be so amazingly intense that my defenses don't hold and I pour myself into them.

I felt a sense of this, when this relationship started, and I hold out hope that it will at some point return to that, and if it does I will with noticeable hesitation put myself in a place to experience that again.

The struggle for me, is that in falling in love, I lost myself. I have no hesitation to living a life of servitude to someone, to devoting my existence to someone. That is my Cancerian blood, and my romantic religion. It doesn't feel like slavery when you do it willingly for someone you love with the fabric of your soul.

In that devotion, it becomes hard to see life outside of that emotional orgasm overloading my senses.  In a very real sense, it becomes who I am. I did not fall in love half-hearted.

I understand, this level of emotional intensity, and commitment is not for everyone, I didn't think it was for me either, until it happened. Realize I had no plans to fall in love, or to become so devoted to the idea, to crusade for love at the expense of all aspects of myself and emotional solidarity.

The return of my switch side, is very much a symbolic return of my emotional strength of will, spirit, and solidarity. It means I'm no longer reveling in my submissive mindset. That mindset for me, is tied in with that relationship, and as long as I was enthralled with that relationship's intensity, I was enthralled in the mindset.

It means that I'm gaining my solidarity back. My strength is fickle. It comes and goes on a dime and is based very much in roots of shitty experiences, scars, internal strength of will, and emotional tempering.

Don't mistake me, however. I am very much still in love, and can be reduced and shattered without much effort by my partner. The difference now is in my strength in being able to fight those efforts for what I know is better for me.

My switch holds her strength as a tool, to be used for her will. My submissive holds her strength as a shield, to hold people back and test them. When that strength is gone she is helpless to anyone who would abuse her. Falling in love bypasses all of my known defense mechanisms, and essentially renders me enraptured and powerless.

The switch is never without power.

A Justifiable Ache

Everywhere I look I see death and horror. I check the news and see nothing but rape, murder, intolerance, "justifiable homicide". There, is an abundant amount of negative energy being pushed at me. Ejaculated onto me by the cosmic rapist that is my fate. I ache. My eyes hurt from weeping, my head aches from the weariness. I have just basic amounts of energy to do anything.

I look to people, and only find myself unwanted and pushed away. I apparently require too much time, or too much energy to be around. I am too much of a burden to people, my issues are too much to adapt or navigate around, though, I can photocopy a map of them for you.

People, move on, they live their lives, they lie, to me, and to themselves.

I am amused by how skittish and frightened my strength is. It is a lie, a mask, that I put on when I pretend to be someone I'm not. I wear it because being honest with people is too painful. Being honest with myself, is too painful. Letting people close to me has only resulted in people hurting me. Even when I try and negotiate, they hurt out of neglect, indifference, and ignorance.

I reason it away. Oh well of course, This person has this going on, that takes priority. That person is dealing with this right now, so that explains this. Another person is doing this other thing, so don't expect much, but this person had this happen, so it makes sense that this might happen.

Everyone has a reason, an explanation, it all makes sense. Hurting someone is justifiable when they mean nothing to you. But hey, simply say you're sorry and everything is alright. Right as rain. Reign over me. April showers bring may flowers, yet, it is June now and I still don't have an umbrella.

I have endless reasons to leave, yet I can't find the motivation to rip out a kidney. Do I keep it, letting it poison me in the hopes it will heal one day. Or do I remove it, and go on forever damaged and impaired. Memories are a comfort, but, regret is not.

On finding Balance *updated*

*Updated to reflect this past weekend*

I love balance, I love harmony, and how things synergize when they flow together. That may just be my cancer roots, but having things feel balanced is very cathartic and enjoyable for me.

That isn't to say life isn't stressful, or annoying, or frustrating. But, when things are harmonious it seems so incredibly manageable. That is how things feel now, I think my partner and I we have found a nice balance (this past weekend withstanding) in our relationship in the amount of time we contribute and extract out of each other.

There are still things I desire out of our situation, but, the obsession and desperation is gone, thankfully. I still want to be collared, and have that intense D/S relationship aspect that we don't really have at the moment. We at the moment have a very limited sexual relationship, and as I grow more comfortable with myself, around hir, I'm wanting that experience and emotional engagement. I'm not pressured on this however, though when I tell other people that near 5 months into this relationship, that we still haven't slept together (or whatever kink fuck term you would like), most seem pretty astonished by it.

Some of this, I feel, is in my inexperience as a sub, and knowing how to instigate, inspire, and be assertive, without feeling an incongruence (lack of harmony, to stick with our theme from today) in that identity and the power I give. I often feel like it is out of place or line to pounce, or instigate things. It is something I'm learning to adapt around, but albeit slowly.

This is a great relief to me in the face of ongoing financial and healthcare stressors. I find myself being pulled beyond my means, and without a great deal of answers. Do I not go to the doctor, or do I simply not pay off my debt? It isn't that I can't pay my bills, I can, it is just that the means and ability to do so, is very thin.

I manage this largely out of neglect for other things. My car, for one, is an unabashed orgy of illegality at the moment. I have neither the funds to fix these things, or to maintain it. While this works, now, it isn't sustainable, and it isn't smart. Yet, until I find other options, what choice do I have.

On this past weekend, my partner and I spent the better part of 48 hours together, and as of now, I feel a bit oversaturated and drained. This is the first time I have felt as such, and don't want to attribute it to hir, but more the activities we were doing (video games and being silly). It isn't that I don't enjoy those things, but just that I need variety/pauses between endless tirades of World of Warcraft.

It may also be a partial response to the lack of romance and affection over the course of the weekend. Not that I was expecting anything in particular, but the affection energizes me and my involvement in the relationship. In this instance, we were both very casual and silly, which brings us closer together, but not necessarily in a romantic way. Which may explain the draining feeling after everything.

For example, when I think about say, going out with hir today, I hesitate, feeling like I just don't have the energy, where as normally I jump at the chance. 

reintroductions

Things are turbulent. It seems from one crises to another. Though my relationship is definitely in better positions than it was, there still feels like something is unresolved. Perhaps it is my paranoid just prodding me, but I don't want to leave things unsettled simply to pop up again later.

A few weeks ago I went on an adventure to alter my hormone treatments into something more manageable. This turned into a nightmare of poor choices and wasted money. I opted to try patches as they were the least invasive, and supposedly also easy on the liver. Unfortunately they do not come in the the high dosages that I'm on, and so I've been slowly dealing with my decline in estrogen levels. This was tolerable until a point where I began to feel similar to how I felt pre-transition.

I wrote about it on another site, but essentially my sex drive returned in force. Not that the desire is in itself bad, but how I deal with it and how I deal with the urges are different things. I've only recently (past year or so) began to learn to tolerate and accept my sexuality. Prior to hormones, the biological need to get off often put me at ends with how I felt, and my body dysmorphia. It often ruined my ability to be around people, I couldn't simply enjoy the company of someone regardless of if we were intimate or not.

I felt this again this past weekend, I grew agitated, frustrated, and down right annoyed at my partner because we weren't getting each other off. This is a stark contrast to how things have always been between us, in which I enjoy everything we do to each other, and there is no outright need to do anything if we don't want to.

This was terribly disturbing to me. Being pushed to a state of anger at someone I love because of a bullshit hormonal discrepancy fucking with my desires and moods. I feel it is unfair and akin to brainwashing, it is dishonest, and a cruel trick. It puts a noise and fuzz over one's thoughts and actions, akin to having voices constantly speaking to you in your head about what you want to do, how you feel, torturing you with small subtle suggestions : you would be fucking if you were really in love, you don't really feel that way, you two aren't physical because ze is bored/tired/annoyed/angry at  you.

It goes on and on. I know these things aren't true, but to have them thrown into your mind like that is quite disturbing and fucked up.

This climaxed on a tear filled drive home, peaked by wishful thoughts of car accidents. I came very close to cutting once again, but restrained myself and collapsed in an uncontrollable fit of hysterical crying for about 3 hours.

I have sense switched back to my original method and dosages in an attempt to fix the problems. Already my mental state has returned to something much more manageable. I can think clearly, and without interference again. Hopefully I can find another source of my medication to last me until I can see my doctor again.

Failure

Herein, lies a thorough diagnosis and understanding of how I failed and sabotaged myself and the first polyamorous relationship I've been in. There is a significant chance of repeated thoughts and dialogue from the "Paused" entry.

Expectations, unbalance, silence, fear, inexperience.

From the beginning this felt different. I wrote about that in the "Diagnosis" post. My normal behaviors and moods seemed irrelevant and useless. Largely, my asexuality leaves me feeling rather cool towards romantic interests. I care for them, deeply, and love them, but it was never on the cusp of how drastic and dramatic this felt. It felt real, visceral, intense, and I felt alive. For the first time, in a long time. My normal cool, indifference, and  slightly judgmental attitude changed to one of childish endearment, adoration, and blindness. Where as normally I would find faults in people and it would turn me away, here, when I found them, I just did not care.

I wrote then about my fears, "Insomnia...again", how I was terrified that the feelings I had were exclusive to one person. That I would never feel these emotions again. My greatest fear was the these intense emotions that I was feeling for the first time would go unrequited, and 3-4 months down the road I'd be broken up with due to the unbalance between our feelings. This was how my previous relationship ended, and it was quite painful to endure. I wished to avoid that at all costs.

The foundations and expectations I had built in starting this relationship were all based on my previous experiences. I went in knowing it was a poly relationship, that my partner would be seeing other people. I never once thought to change how I thought or acted in the relationship. Maintaining my old monogamous mindset undermined everything and set in motion my thought processes that lead to where I am now.

While it is easy to look at the issues after the fact, I don't blame myself too harshly. Being my first poly relationship I was unsure just what to think or how I would be stressed. While it does make sense to assume I would need to change how I thought about things, I had no idea in how or what ways I needed to.Looking at things, knowing this, it seems very obvious why the ended up the way they did. After time when distance was first created I took it personally, as a referendum on myself and the desire to have me around.

This initial doubt was planted, and led to nagging feelings of objectification and of being used. Whenever we would be physically affectionate, and follow this with a period of inactivity, I would begin to feel used as a sexual object, or as a tool/experiment to better understand how submissives work. It was untrue and irrational, but that is what fear does to you.

Instead of talking about these things, I tried to push them away with the lingering jealous/inadequate feelings in order to try and make myself more desirable to be with/around. When this also failed, the cascade of negative emotions became overwhelming, seen in "Haunted". I grasped desperately for anything I could trying to hold on to something I thought I was loosing.

Ironic that grasping may be the thing that caused me to loose it anyway.

Much in the way that struggling makes you sink in quicksand faster, or how panicking speeds up how quickly poison travels within your body, my fear exacerbated the problems.

The grasping only pushed more distance between us, which snowballed the effects into where things were stressed into breaking. Tension, stress, hostility, and pain were brought in and pushed us away from each other.

The rest is as you can imagine, there are details left out here that are covered in previous entries, "On Being Punished", but I want to minimize the amount of rehashing.

So realizing this now, I'm beating somewhat of a dead horse as I rehash much of what was written in "Paused". I can't force anyone's feelings, and I shouldn't be trying to force my own. I hate the feeling of regressing. The self deception and self degradation that comes after a split up wherein a person doesn't want to hurt or think of the partner anymore, and thus beats themselves up when they do. I'm trying hard not to follow down that path. I'm attempting to remain optimistic and fatalistic in that if things are meant to work out then they will. I'm going to let my emotions run their own path. If that means I wake up and fall asleep thinking about someone for months on end then so be it. I'm focusing on the positive emotions, and the love that I still have, even if it is unshared now. I'm done hiding from things.

Being drowned by love is a new experience for me, and one that overwhelmed me and my healthy obsession with being honest to myself. Fear and insecurity hit me like never before, and I don't like what it did to me. In as such, I am working to confront these issues head on and move beyond them.

I made an oath in 2008 that I was done lying to myself. I have sense then taken a crusade of positive change and personal growth that has led me here. There have been setbacks on the way, and hurtful things have been said about my commitment to that crusade recently. I understand how and why the accusations were made, I disagree with them, but they were made for a reason.

I've recently thought about adding to my tattoo to reemphasize this point to myself. My relationship to the art has often been representative of my sense of self and my journey. I had thought to add birds flying near/perched on hir, but now I think I'm wanting a dramatic explosion of color and life coming from the flower on it's right side. Symbolizing the growth through circumstance and positive change. Beauty out of the stone cold death that was my past life. The hiding, self mutilation, and emotional violence towards others that were so much a part of who I was. It is there, it will always be there, a part of my history. It is no longer who I am though, and in pushing out of that shell, the cracks that formed, and the life that has come back into me I feel are being left unrepresented. I shall ponder this, and just what and how I want to express this.

Paused

It bothers me just what conclusions people draw without talking to me about things. They see some of my bad habits, and make assumptions. I wouldn't, and normally don't, care what people want to believe, until it comes to effect me. I've been called a leach, and my emotional stability called into question. Which, would strike me as funny was it not so hurtful.

Since I was a teenager I've had to depend on myself for emotional support. I hide away my secrets and emotional states from everyone until it almost killed me (circa January 2008). Since then, I've taken a dramatic turn for the better, and moved into a much more aware, happy, and stable mindset.

I used to cut weekly, now it is down to a few times a year. I've written before on how cutting is an emotional control, it is a release, and a coping mechanism for my extremes. It serves to rush if I'm feeling numb, and it serves to calm if I'm erratic. Rarely is it used as a tool of self-mutilation or destruction to that extent. I cut as an answer to symptoms, the cutting is not the symptom in itself. I don't cut out of self hatred anymore, I've learned to stop doing that. I do it now more as an act of moderation to keep myself within certain boundaries in extremes, and I nearly always regret it afterwards. Yet, because of this, the idea is now floating among people that I have to attach myself to others to leach emotional stability, that I am so terrified of being alone, that I need other people to fix/keep me in line.

These were all things I was accused of, and that hurt to hear. How people can think I am so pathetic, selfish, or cowardly is beyond me. I transitioned on my own, for myself. It would kill me if I didn't. I moved to Seattle on my own, for my own sanity. I left behind my family, my friends, and everything I have known, I gave up all that security and comfort for the sake of my mental and emotional stability and sanity. I have routinely put myself available on internet dating sites, and routinely been hurt by people in order to find friends and potential partners to bring good people into my life. I have done all this, and I still do all this in order to better my life, to make myself happier, and provide for my stability.

I said being accused of being a leach was laughable. The idea that after all this, I would suddenly have to depend on other people to make me stable seems comical. If I needed other people, how could I leave everyone, literally everyone, I knew behind and move 2300 miles away from 99% of all my contacts (I found an old friend in Portland, but that was the closest). If I needed other people, how could I risk the affections of my friends and family by coming out to them. I did both of these things for my own sanity and stability, and the idea that I now can't risk being away from someone, is borderline offensive if not downright hurtful. I find myself questioning just how well people think they know me.

I dislike being alone. This is true, and I think I have justifiable reasons for it. That is not to say I can't be alone, or I can't be single. I've spent most of my life being single or alone, it is another reason I dislike it. However, disliking something and needing the opposite are not the same things. I enjoy being social, I prefer to be around other people if I can, I get energy from social situations (though I'm still introverted at this stage).

At this point, my relationship is at best, paused. At worst, over. The distance that was requested from me is and was too painful for me to take while still emotionally attached. When I fall in love it is usually very in depth and blinding. It is easy for me to get in over my head, as it seems was the case here. I think some of the issues revolve around it being my first polyamorous, and first dom/sub relationship as well. My wanting of some sort of emotional connection or bond to keep me from getting jealous overtook most everything else. I was afraid of pushing people away, and thus bottled in things that upset me, and refused absolutely to let myself be jealous. This only exacerbated my need for an emotional connection that simply wasn't ready yet. Instead of discussing my feelings of being used or objectified, I focused solely on that connection in hopes it would remedy everything. I placed all my hopes and remedies in that connection, and when it failed to materialize I began to fall apart.

This, in itself, is not enough to bring me to cutting. The falling apart, in combination with a large number of negative emotions revolving around my job brought me to the edge. The lack of support on these issues is what brought me to cutting. The internalized negativity needed to be released, which it did over the course of a few erratic emotional days of crying. After a few days I both grew tired of this, and felt the volatility of my emotions growing more erratic, and decided it best to cap them, by cutting. I wrote about this experience, and that soon after, in the post titled "On Being Punished".

I do wish to note that the previous was not linear. My falling apart happened across multiple days both before and after cutting. In that, I reached out for support, but was given further distance, likely due to the cutting, and appearance of the lack of self sustainability. Which now brings us full circle, to the confrontation of that distance and pain.

I do not want this relationship to end, but I feel emotionally, that I cannot continue to let myself be vulnerable to someone who seems to ignores me. As apparently we both need distance (my withdrawing in response to the initial distance) the best thing it seems is to give each other space. My concern lies in the ability for my feelings to regenerate after being recessed and withdrawn.

This post, I feel is exposition on how things have gone. I do not begin to claim everything as fact, or unbiased. Hopefully soon I'll be able to write about things returning to normal, I want to be able to write that post. It is somewhat, my motivation for this one, but I have done all that I can. Pushing and stressing the issue does nothing to help either of us, so at this point, I leave it to fate.

One last funny note however. I fell in love in the snow, in the early morning one day. Today, in the morning, a quick waft of snow trickled down on my way to work. It felt like an omen then, I hope it remains one of positivity, and not one marking an ending. Thinking of that moment still reduces me to tears in how badly I long for that moment back.

As such, I'm refusing to mark this post under the Moving On tag.

On Being Punished

This past weekend was not kind to me. In a fit of emotional breakdown I ended up cutting again. I haven't cut since May 2011, and this is the first time I've done it in Seattle. I'm still not quite sure what I intended to accomplish. I've sense written a letter to myself effectively calling out all of my bullshit, which, I may post as an edit to this post. The letter was drastic, and really helped me confront some of my issues on romance and expectations. Largely, everything revolves around my sources of validation and finding it from other people instead of from within. It also serves to call out some of my insecurities.

The salient point of this post however, is the aftermath of said self-mutilation. Emotions ranged from disappointment at the lack of the initial rush, to the relief, and peace that comes afterwards. Cutting was always a form of emotional control, it caps off everything and lets me be at peace for the rest of the day or so. Why this form of repression works is still a mystery to me, but it simply pushes everything aside and lets me think coherently again without all the noise of depression and deprecation that normally haunts me. I'd love to say that it wasn't body image related, but I purposefully push those in to make the rush/release better.

The following days went about as expected with no real changes aside from calming me down. Until last night. My partner was showing testing out the cat-o-nine-tales she recently acquired on me. This isn't unusual for us as we normally have a submissive/dominant role behavior. This went normally until towards the end I began to tear up, which is abnormal for me. I'm not entirely sure if it was just the emotional build up from the past week coming out finally, but that seems a likely suspect. Afterwards I made a remark that ensured she would find the cuts. She expressed her dissatisfaction, which I thought would simply be a verbal scolding and reproach. I did not expect her to actually punish me for it, and with such intensity. By the end of it I was crying intensely and unable to speak.

At this point she said if I was having a hard day that I could speak to her, I wanted to reply that I've had a hard life, but couldn't bring myself to speak and maintain composure at the same time.

We discussed the issue, and debated turning it into something creative, the idea of putting a line through them to signify the ending of the habit. This idea appealed to me, but I quickly became attached to cutting, hanging on to it in case I needed it. She eventually decided to make X's through them with a carbon fiber rod, which left me in further tears and shambles, and then told me that as long as I belonged to her, I wasn't allowed to do that anymore.

I'm not quite sure what I think of everything. I enjoy the idea of belonging that I get from being with/owned by her, but I'm also torn in that I'm hindered from my one emergency escape release I have, a release from emotions and insecurities often exacerbated by or originating from our relationship. Not that they are the pinnacle of issues I have, but they are often a contributing factor.

She asked why I didn't tell her, and I'm usually afraid people will think I do it for attention, or dismiss the issue as petty and childish, or insincere. Often I don't find them that important enough to bring up. Partially, I don't enjoy admitting my insecurities to the people that cause them. It requires a degree of emotional vulnerability and conflict willingness that I simply haven't achieved yet.

She also asked how I could hate myself so much. It is astonishingly easy when you've spent 15 years internalizing the sociological hatred for people like yourself, or the disgust at feeling disfigurement every time you look in the mirror. You build up so much of that, it simply becomes who you are over time, it becomes natural.

In writing the note to myself mentioned earlier, I wanted to end it by signing "I love you". I couldn't bring myself to type it. Not that this is news, One of my previous partners took it upon herself to point it out to me (as if I wasn't aware) and use it as another point for us to break up. Personally, I've come to a truce on the issues. I don't expect and can't be at peace with myself when it isn't who I am, and embodies (literally) myself. Until things are remedied, there is little I can do but accept things they way they are, for the time being. Which I've largely done. It doesn't mean I love myself, I can't, or won't, but it does mean I can live and function normally for periods of time.

In the end, I'm glad everything last night happened, I just wish the issues that necessitated the cutting in the first place were solved, rather than dealing with the symptomatic responses to it.