I don’t know how else to describe what I’ve been going through except a psychic tantrum on all fronts.
I feel unmoored, terrified, emboldened, devastated, excited, powerful, overwhelmed, gleeful and lost.
It started when Pey left town with my ex for the two-week trip they usually do each year together at the end of June. If one week without my baby is bad, two is exponentially worse. Simultaneous to the separation, I embarked on a six-month-long side project at work, that if I pull it off, has the potential to completely change my life forever and those of everyone I care for and love.
Additionally, I have continued to process the enormous revelations related to my childhood trauma and the hole in my heart that ceaselessly demands my attention. Peter, The Golfer, The Vet, random dates here and there, The Neighbor, powerful articles that sear my heart; drawing boundaries and gaining clarity in my life. This all seems to be the name of the game for my 2019.
And I am a fucking wreck.
I am smoking again, drinking in excess, not exercising, procrastinating on almost all levels, and I’m going to bed at either 8:30 or staying out way too late with anyone I can get to spend time with me.
The funniest part of all of this is that I doubt anyone would have a clue. Nothing but Me is falling through the cracks.
Everyone at work thinks I’m doing a bang up job, Peyton adores me as always and things are better than ever, my family are proud of me, my very best and closest friends don’t hate me and continue to support me, my animals are all fat and happy and get lots of scratches and pats and even the plants aren’t dead or even wilting.
I am living in an upside down world where shit smells like roses and the pretty things make me sick.
I’ve never been a “successful” person. I have never dated anyone who really got and understood me, loved me wholly and rooted for me in all ways. I have never been deeply vulnerable and connected to anyone. I have never been financially stable. Ever. I have never treated my body like a temple – I’ve always been more partial to a Caligula type of lifestyle.
Yet, I am in the midst of casting aside everyone in my life who treats me like I am worth about as much as a pack of bubblegum: fun to chew for a little while, but ultimately disposable. I have distanced myself from friends who aren’t caring about my heart and time and done the same with the men. I am listening to my inner voice for the first time in my life and embracing the awesomeness of that: I get to choose whom I share Me with. I’m not interested in just anyone anymore.
Still, I’m horny, lonely, and terrified. I cum each morning and then cry as I whisper to no one, “Leave marks on me. Please.” Who would? I don’t know. But I yearn for that person in all of this all the same.
I’m allowing my tantrums to play out and watching myself carefully. Yes, I am making poor decisions, but I think what would be worse would be to beat myself up for them. I am a steady ship – always have been – I will course correct eventually. I just may be fat and asthmatic by the time I do, but so what.
One of the most powerful things I’ve realized this year is that seducing someone and getting something from them is not actually love, affection or validation. It is a nutrition-less elixir that keeps me high and distant from what I need most: grounding.
I look at all of my relationships – from those that involve throbbing cocks to those that include bottles of wine and confessional hearts – and I can see how much I hold back and how impenetrable I really am. Everyone thinks I’m so open and I still can’t understand why. No one knows my heart; I never show it.
I’m never brave enough to draw lines and demand better and more and different. I accept – sheepishly, gratefully – and live on emotional scraps. I send all the wrong messages that this is ok. But I actually want people who are as strong as me. After all, I could handle a boundary set on me and to be asked for better, more or different from someone. I’d jump at the opportunity to show my love and loyalty. If a relationship crumbles because I express my needs then so be it; let it scatter in the wind. Good riddance.
Good riddance to the men who say they want a strong and sexy woman, powerful in who she is, but when she expresses herself shut down and retreat, taking their ball with them. Fuck the men who say all they want is casual, never showing up to see what’s beyond the playgrounds of our bodies and eliminating the joy of more. Screw the people who are so fragile they can’t reach beyond their own fingertips to be careful with others’ tender hearts, tromping on everyone on their little private, selfish trail of tears.
I’m tired and cranky and flipping the fuck out. Excited and enormous in my hope, equalled only by my terror to fail by not trying.
My life is waiting for me just around the corner. I swear I can feel it.
Fuuuuck. This is so scary.