I miss Dusty. She died last year, but we used to “celebrate” her birthday on November 1st.
I miss my Floof.
I miss Dusty. She died last year, but we used to “celebrate” her birthday on November 1st.
I miss my Floof.
Earlier today I was watching The Great on Hulu.
If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a brand-new show about Catherine the Great of Russia and what it was like for her in the early days. Like most young girls, she had a lot of daydreams and romantic ideas about what love would be like. For instance, here is what her mom told her about sex:
The man caresses you softly, pressing his lips to yours. Your breasts and skin awaken and shiver with palpitating joy. Between your legs quivers and moistens with longing. He enters you and you become one. Your bodies meld, your souls mesh. As a sensation takes hold of you, you fall into a black sky filled with the shiniest of stars. You float for a time in ecstasy, before waves of pleasure push and pull you back into your body. Your body ushers forth yelps, and sometimes song, before he and you explode within, collapsing together, spent and unified. Then, you lay together, laughing softly, weeping occasionally with ecstatic joy, and finally, he wraps his arms around you, whispers poetry softly into your ear, and you fall into a… delicious sleep.
She soon learns that her mom’s experience is…different from hers…
I had a lot of very romantic ideas of what love would be like. For the most part, they’re true. The things that aren’t haven’t really been a letdown because I know that real life isn’t a romantic comedy. However, love and sex are different things. They can-and often do-go together, but not necessarily.
I know what you’re going to say, “They’re just doing it wrong.” Maybe so. I’ve had experiences that were very intense, very meaningful. I know that’s what it can be like. But in this day and age, we’re usually not given a “flowery description” like this.
You know what I was told about sex, from different sources?
I will say that I could have been told these things in an effort to keep me from getting pregnant as a teenager. I knew several girls who did. I have, however, seen the truth of some of them.
“Your first time will be awkward as hell, assuming it works at all.”
And it didn’t. My high school boyfriend and I tried to have sex once but it did not physically work. To be a bit graphic, he couldn’t get into me. I was probably nervous but a lot of that could have been that it wasn’t the right thing to do. I was supposed to wait until I was married, and I wasn’t going to marry him. It fits. I did other things, but my husband is the first and only man I’ve ever “gone there” with.
“Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing.”
Yep. My first “real-time” was on my wedding night. Everything went fine, I guess, but I was so tired after that long day that I didn’t do much. Most people are able to “learn on the job”, but I was not because I got into a wreck less than a year later that pretty much rendered me unable to, ahem, assume most positions. The ones that worked for me didn’t for my husband. I thought my hip replacement would fix it and, in terms of mobility, it did. However, the gynecologist confirmed that everything-everything-had been pushed to the right. As a result, I know absolutely nothing about how to please a man. Where to touch a man (besides the obvious), what to do with those things when I get there, how to get/keep anything going-nothing. I did other things before I was married, but 1) a lot of that was allowing things to be done to me, and 2) they were done with the agreement that the full expression of sex and love is meant for marriage. It must be even more awkward for men.
I’ve learned some other things, which is helpful. I know how to speak of it-I had some erotic stories online once but I got rid of them. I know what to do to myself. One thing I didn’t count on was the fact that both I and my husband are on medications that cause problems in that area. Looking back, that’s probably why we never really were very passionate. At least that way I know it’s not me.
“Sex is pretty much all men care about.”
This isn’t true about my husband, but it definitely is about some people I’ve dated. There were a lot of times I did something I didn’t particularly want to do because I felt like I had to. Either that, or that was the only way I could get him to leave me alone. I have friends and relatives who have been raped and one thing they’ve all said was that it did one of two things-either they fear sex or they treat it like it’s nothing. My sister told me that she ended up giving it to whatever guy wanted it because she figured that they were going to take it anyway so at least that way she would have *some* control of the situation. I can totally see that.
I can’t imagine that the good men out there enjoy being lumped in with the assholes who think only of themselves.
“What you think you’re going to like and what you actually end up liking are two different things.”
I can see this as well. The magazines that give you all these ideas about what a good sex life should be aren’t usually talking about people who have medical issues that make things difficult for them. The movies don’t show how long it took that actress to get into that position. Media often makes it sound and look a lot easier than it actually is. I’m very interested in sex but sometimes I’d rather take care of it myself than try to do anything else.
They also make it look like it’s easy to separate sex and love when it’s really anything but. Stupid flings aside, I wouldn’t even *kiss* someone if I didn’t have some sort of feelings for them. I once tried a “friends with benefits” thing thinking it was just silly fun. Nope. Feelings got involved.
Similarly, my morals are often different in fantasies. There is no way I’d go home with a guy after the first date, no matter how much I loved him. Yet, some fantasies have me doing exactly that. That’s the fun of fantasies, though-you get to be someone you’re not, if only in your mind.
I will often dream or daydream about what it might be like to kiss/touch/be with a particular man, but I do this in the context of a larger story line starring a version of me. I’m usually dating whoever it is I have a crush on at the time. It’s always a younger one. A lot of them take place during a time in my life that could have been a lot better or at least happier had I made different choices. The choices are almost always about breaking up with or never dating a particular person, but sometimes my entire world is different. I wonder if it’s my way of trying to get that time back.
I have no ending for this except to say that sex is much different from what I thought it would be, but that’s okay. That’s what I hear from pretty much everyone I’ve talked to, men *and* women. I got to bond with my husband in a lot of ways I may not have-or not as much-had I not gotten into the wreck. I also learned that it’s not really all it’s cracked up to be, but there are other things in life I’d rather have. Even so, it’s still fun to dream about.
One of my favorite singers has long been Melissa Etheridge. She’s often known for her angsty “scorned lover” style, but she has a pretty good range. The reason I’m mentioning her here is because I was listening to one of her songs and it made me think of a situation in my own life. You can read the lyrics here:
I tried to find a site that would let you read the lyrics *and* hear the song, but they were all behind paywalls. Sorry about that. It’s a great song. Check out YouTube?
Go on and close your eyes, imagine me there/She’s got similar features, but longer hair
In college I dated this guy I’ll call “B”. I met him through my then-roommate. “J”. J and I both had dark hair, dark eyes and glasses. We looked similar enough that people often mistook us for sisters, but her hair was a lot longer than mine. A lot longer.
All the women’s magazines are right when they say that having two intense and emotional people in the same relationship rarely works out. It definitely didn’t for us. To be fair to him, I was going through some stuff and one of my ex-boyfriends was causing a lot of problems trying to get me to go back to him. I wasted so much of my life dealing with this psychopath (the ex), but that’s another post.
The relationship only lasted a few months, but it was an intense one. During spring break, he drove 3.5 hours to my house just to tell me he loved me. It was completely unexpected and my parents loved him. He once stood out in front of my dorm and imitated the boombox scene in Say Anything, which worked because he looked like a young John Cusack and I have hair like Ione Skye.
I was not good to him at all…or. I was. but there were a lot of things going on with me that he didn’t deserve to be saddled with. Our breakup was a lot less dramatic than our relationship-just a simple phone conversation. I don’t know why, but after that I was kind of jealous that he just *happened* to be hanging out with my roommate a lot more than before. That could be because she was also going through a breakup (with one of his good friends), but I don’t know. He wanted to try to be friends because he said he missed me, but it was so awkward there was no way that was going to work.
A week before I graduated, he came to my room to ask me to take him back. This was completely unexpected since we had not spoken for months, and the last time we had spoken was him telling me he was sorry my mom had died. I was already dating someone at the time, but he didn’t care-he just wanted to be with me. I said no because I was graduating and going back home but to be honest I probably would have said no anyway because we did not make a good pair. When I told J about it later, she got really upset but I had no idea why.
And if that’s what it takes to get you through/Go on and close your eyes
Later on I found out that, a few days earlier, he’d been intimate with J in a way he had been with me. It wasn’t sex and there was probably no connection, but the fact that he would try to get back with me so soon after doing something like this seemed very suspect to her. I thought so too. Someone-more than one person, actually-later told me that he might have been thinking of me while he was making out with her. I wouldn’t put it past him. For her sake, I hope not. I know what it’s like to be the “consolation prize”, which is what she felt like after talking to me. She doesn’t deserve that-no one does. I was pissed on her behalf because the whole thing apparently meant a lot more to her than it did to him. This is someone who won’t even *kiss* someone she doesn’t have feelings for-much less anything more.
It shouldn’t bother you
Apparently it didn’t.
Look, I don’t want to make it seem like I’m flattering myself by thinking B’s feelings were more than they were. But when someone comes into your room after not having spoken to you in months and asks you to take them back even though you’re also with someone else and when telling someone about it has the effect it did here, I have to wonder. I’m not the only or even the first person to suggest the comparison. Even if it wasn’t about our looks, she clearly felt as though him asking me to take him back so shortly (within a week!) after doing something like that was a betrayal. I’d feel that way too.
I don’t know what else to say, except that this is what I think about anytime I hear this song. You probably have a “song story” too, somewhere.
(I started this a couple of years ago, but I just now decided to publish it. Sad, I know. 😊)
Warning: This is a very raw, emotional post that contains a lot of bad language. If you’re offended by such things-especially from a Christian-you might want to look away.
I’m so fucking upset and embarrassed right now that I didn’t want to go to bed without at least writing some of this down. If I don’t get it out here, it will probably come out in some place I really don’t want it to and will just make me feel worse.
Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve talked to myself. A lot of people do this, I’m told, but I’ve been given a lot of grief about it because apparently the things that I think I’m keeping to myself are coming out in mutterings I’m not aware of. I have no idea how to not do this because, as I said, I don’t realize it’s happening to begin with. It was brought to my attention that every little negative emotion I have, every little frustration or annoyance is being made public because I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut even if I try to. It’s really weird but I don’t know what to do about it. Everybody-my coworkers, the manager-hell, even the owner notices and I have no idea how to stop. Like I said, I never knew I was doing it at all. I was told about this tonight after having had such a good time talking and was so embarrassed that all I wanted to do was leave so I could get into my car and cry.
I’m so scared that I will be-
A) The crazy bitch who talks to herself that no one likes;
B) The completely incompetent bitch no one likes;
C) The person who can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life and embarrasses herself . People say that they like me and that I’m entertaining, which I definitely like…I’m glad I can make people laugh but sometimes I wish I could just keep my mouth shut around certain people…damned near everyone, really. If I can figure out how to stop muttering to myself audibly, then perhaps I can get a handle on the whole “diarrhea of the mouth” thing.
It’s the same thing anywhere I work-I make stupid mistakes and am so insecure about it that if my mistakes don’t bother people, the insecurity does. When you’re in a situation where it feels like someone is looking for things to fuss at you about like I was before one of the trainers quit-she was upset she didn’t get a certain job and took her shit out on me-, you end up so afraid to do something wrong that you end up doing even worse than you did before. Even if I’m not being dumped on, I expect to be because that’s what’s happened in the past and it sort of becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The fear, the being “scary” (meaning, being scared) gets to people but I don’t know how to stop it.
I make the dumbest mistakes (turning in an order late, bringing out things in the wrong order) that I’m informed should be behind someone who has been there as long as I have. I know that. I got yelled at today and got into a fussing match with a couple of trainers because of the fact that I don’t listen and get defensive when someone tries to correct me…excuse me, I *do* listen. I know it’s frustrating that I don’t remember things that were told to me, but that’s why I get disability to begin with. Why I have to have Klonopin to work (although I don’t take it much) or why I keep having people lose patience with me because they think I’m a total idiot when…well, actually I think that last part is true. At least sometimes. Imagine how frustrating it is to have to ask the same questions because you don’t remember. People sometimes treat me as though I have early-onset Alzheimer’s because of it-in fact, that condition was mentioned by name once.
And yes, I took it personally and do so naturally, but I don’t know how not to take it personally when someone is telling you how frustrating it is to deal with you because they have to repeat things over and over again. And ironically, that point-that they have to cover things over and over again-is belabored more than anything else. Yes, I feel like I’m being picked on by certain people, and I’m not the only one. I don’t think I’m being bullied or whatever-I know that all too well-, but I seem to think the worst or feel like things are more intense emotionally than they really are.
I’ve never been able to take criticism well, especially when it comes in certain forms and from certain people. I’ve always taken things personally, I guess because I care so much about what other people think and I want relationships with those around me. I don’t want people to think badly of me, I don’t want things to be uncomfortable and I don’t want to do things that bother people. I don’t remember how this started, but I’ve always felt that “people getting bothered with me=doing something wrong=bad person”. And holy crap did some people take advantage of that. I don’t think it was a matter of anyone actively telling me that so much as seeing my parents fight with my sister…she did things that bothered my parents so they sent her away for a year to live with my aunt in California. Turns out she went to rehab out there and asked to go, but all I saw was that she misbehaved (got bad grades, got into trouble, etc), made my parents mad and then got sent away because they didn’t want her anymore. Ah, the mind of a ten-year-old.
I know I come off as defensive and smart-assed when I say stuff like “okay, I know, I know, I screwed up, I’m stupid…” stuff like that. I know it sounds like I’m blowing off what they said to me, but I’m not. What I’m doing is saying I know what you’re going to say, so can we move on. I didn’t realize how snotty that sounded. But now a couple of people are probably not going to want to talk to me again-in fact, one told me not to and that it wasn’t worth it trying to tell me anything. Now I know that that sort of talk says nothing about me and everything about her. I’m just afraid no one is going to want to talk to me and, like I said before, I’ll be the incompetent, crazy bitch everyone hates.
What sucks is that I was having such a rock-star day before that. And people were saying as much.
Looking back, I can see a marked difference in the way that I think and understand things now than I did before the bipolar/ADHD/whatever set on. I was the smart kid in class and now I’m the airhead. I don’t remember things I need to but hold onto things I don’t…I don’t understand things and sometimes people get frustrated with me, saying that I should ask for clarification if I need it. The problem is, I don’t think to ask because I think I *am* getting it-that I *do* understand things. People think I don’t listen when I do, I just don’t remember well. That’s the thing about ADHD-a lot of the times you can’t really learn anything because there is so much else going on in your head that new information can’t find any room. It’s not that you don’t pay attention to anything so much as that you pay attention to *everything* whether you want to or not-you can’t tune things out and focus the way other people can because your mind is literally so crowded you can’t cram in a single new thing. It’s like that closet everyone has in their house where they put whatever doesn’t go anywhere else-so much random stuff gets put in there that, whenever you have something you really *do* need to find a place for, it won’t fit. I know I might talk about the ADHD/bipolar/whatever too much and sound like I’m making excuses. However, this isn’t an excuse-it’s the truth.
I might be misinterpreting things…I have a really bad habit of assuming that other people’s thoughtless or rude behavior has something to do with me. I think I’m justified in this, though, because it’s happened in other jobs I’ve had-I didn’t do a good job for whatever reason and people who used to talk to me decided I didn’t have any other good qualities and I became the pariah. What’s really bad is that I don’t understand why this happens-maybe it’s because I’ve always been the slow one, but I’ve been the one to come to the defense of someone who’s being dumped on unnecessarily. A good friend of mine at work used to have people talk shit behind her back about how stupid she was and make fun of her the way you’d expect from a schoolyard bully. Now that she’s gone, I worry that I’m going to be That Person again. I may not have been that person here at all, but it’s hard to let go of that dread when it’s happened to you so many times before. I know I have some friends but I’m just incredibly embarrassed and feel I will always be that social outcast, the one nobody likes.
Thing is, I make really good tips. I seem to always screw up at least one order a day, but I make good tips so it must not be too bad…it’s not the customers I’m concerned about so much as being embarrassed that so much of my feelings are being put on display for my coworkers. Yes, I’m airing all my crap out in public here too, but the difference is that I *chose* to write this…I don’t *choose* to mutter angry things to myself where everyone can hear.
It doesn’t matter what the fuck I do because I either can’t afford therapy or don’t have time…hey, maybe since I’m making a bit more money I’ll be able to afford it. I haven’t been able to go to church or do much of anything because on the rare days I get off I’m so exhausted that I can’t get off the couch. The thing is, I love my job. I’m just so embarrassed to be around anyone that I just want to crawl into my bed and die. Or, at least never show my face again.
Also…oh fuck it. He already knows. He knows, and I’m not sure he minds.
I used to have a pathetic little geek-crush on the busboy who’s literally nearly half my age. His mom came to pick him up once and she’s probably only a few years older than me. Shit. It’s not like I’d ever take it anywhere, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about it and now it’s all out there, how fucking sad this is. I told someone that it had “fuck-all to do with him personally and everything to do with the pretty girl hoping she’s still pretty”. Now, I’m not so sure that’s true. He’s like the younger version of my husband, so perhaps it’s some sort of pathetic mid-life-crisis bullshit where I want to have my cake and eat it too. He’s gone now, but I really miss having a guy to hang around with.
Oh, well. Maybe I just need sleep. If anyone has any ideas on how to stop talking to myself where others can hear-or at least make myself aware of it-that don’t involve sectioning me. I’m all ears. Ditto taking shit personally…I think I need to work on that last one more than anything else.
I had another anxiety attack tonight-the worst in a long time. I’m not surprised at all. It’s been a long week with a lot of pressure about Valentine’s Day. We’ve been having a lot of meetings because this is one of the busiest times of the year in the restaurant industry and management has been more high-strung than normal. I’ve been working more shifts in a row than I’m used to. I was at the end of my rope and was really hoping to be able to come home tonight and relax before having to go in again. I was in pain and had not slept much this week, but still had to stay and work because one of my coworkers-one who is also a good friend-simply didn’t show up.
There are certain times when things seem a lot louder, brighter, more claustrophobic than normal. There is just so much noise in such a tight space that you feel like you have to fight to get anything done. Everything and everyone is in your way, and you just want to get out. When you have a lot of side work you’re not used to doing that takes you longer than everyone else to do it can feel stressful to anyone, but in the past my coworkers had teased me about being too slow to do things. It’s been a really long time since anyone said that, but it really hurt my feelings. So when I heard “is anyone still here? Is <river in Ireland> done yet?” it made me think that people were bitching about it again. I have this sort of paranoia that makes me think things are about me when they aren’t-that people are saying or thinking things when they probably aren’t. Or, if they are, it’s not as big of a deal as I think it is. It’s like I accuse people of saying or thinking things. Luckily everyone knows that I have bipolar and anxiety, but there have been times when I worry if it will be “the last straw” with someone.
For instance, this past Christmas I got into sort of a row with a good friend of mine that made me wonder if he’ll ever care for me or talk to me again. It was another case of paranoia that blew up in my face, assuming something was about me when he was dealing with crap of his own and had been distant to everyone-not just me. It was suggested that I had a crush on him, which I doubt. Either way, I thought I had lost someone I had a connection with because I couldn’t control my dumb ass mouth. I can’t say I feel as close as I did before, but I don’t know if that’s just my perception. Tonight I thought of saying “Now you’ve seen it, I told you it was awful. Still like me, or am I the psycho hose beast I’ve been telling you about?”
It’s just so ridiculous that I could go from laughing to sitting in my car listening to music and singing along with it to calm myself down. Even if people know I can’t help it, that it’s my disorder talking, I can’t begin to explain how embarrassing these things are. I wonder when people will get sick of it and say screw her, no one likes her anymore. What will be the last straw, if I’ll have anyone left if this keeps up. And it will keep up. That much is certain.
I need to sleep.
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