Another Chapter Begins

Settle in kids, this is going to be a long one.

I started this blog nine years ago as a sort of self-therapy to figure out my issues with men, dating and sex. I suppose it has been that but up until about two months ago it was really more of a misguided attempt to make myself fit into the rigid mold my culture (and many if not most other cultures) has for women. That is to say as a seemingly heterosexual woman I should be married to, or at the very least involved with, a heterosexual man producing, or on the way to producing babies. As I have continued to fail these requirements I have spent the better part of my life trying to figure out, that is agonize over, why. It never once occurred to me that all of my struggles were due to the ridiculous expectations I was forcing myself to live up to and that I may actually be different than everyone else. I have always taken pride in the idea of being unique, but actually being different is a whole new ball game that takes a lot of insight and self-acceptance to play.

Last February I watched the documentary (A)sexual and successfully talked myself out of identifying with it for a variety of reasons, one of which is I don’t think the film was done effectively with respect to helping people like me understand how my experiences/desires fit under the umbrella of asexuality. Another of which is I didn’t do enough research because I couldn’t handle identifying as a sexual minority. So I put it out of mind. (Consequently I feel this short documentary is way more informative. Skip the first 30 seconds as the visuals are kind of off-putting as well as antithetical to the documentary’s message. I identified with many of the asexuals interviewed unlike those in (A)sexual who mostly seemed sex averse and bordered on if not outright identified as having Asperger’s.)

But the truth is pretty simple. I am asexual. It just took me another year to come across the term again, look a little deeper into myself and accept it. It still feels strange to say but I'm warming to it.

The accepted and purposely broad definition of an asexual person is someone who does not experience sexual attraction (to any gender). It does not explain or define how they feel about actual sexual experience, which is a completely different thing, nor does it explain or define how they feel about and experience other types of attraction, namely romantic or emotional. Asexuality is a spectrum just as hetero, homo and bisexuality are. Many asexuals have and enjoy sex both with others as well as alone. It only means there is no sexual attraction preceding the act. There are also asexuals who are indifferent to sex and yet others who do not like sex and want nothing to do with it. This is partly why asexuality is not an easy thing to understand nor identify with when you first learn about it…at least it was for me. I am still processing what it means to and for me but I can now say that I fully identify as an asexual. In reading over past posts, especially the one I wrote about seeing the documentary, it is so obvious it’s amazing how I could have ever denied it. If asexuality wasn’t so invisible maybe it would have been different but this is how my story goes:

About two months ago I came across the headline “What It’s Like to Date a Demisexual”. I remembered a commenter on my (A)sexual post who had called themselves a demisexual and even that I felt like it sort of applied to me, but I couldn’t remember exactly what it was. So I clicked on it and the first line sucked me in. 

“I grew up assuming that I was 'normal'. I thought that other people were like me and that I was like them. As I got older, though, I realized that something just wasn't quite right.”

And then I read this:

“Most people use dates to get to know a person, whereas I need to connect with someone on a deeper level even to want to date them.”

Bells went off in my head. That is exactly how I feel but people have always made me think I was weird because of it. I related to so much of the article I immediately started researching demisexuality. It lead me back to asexuality which I then saw in a whole new light. Actually, what I saw was me. What I felt was relief. There was nothing wrong with me nor was I alone. It was short lived for the doubts immediately started creeping in, but I absolutely could not deny it the same way I did the first time because I knew it was true. Nothing in my life regarding men and sex had ever made sense to me but the more I read the clearer my life became. It was a rush of emotions all at once and I immediately told K. She read another article I found and the first thing she said was, “you make so much more sense now.” We’ve known each other since we were thirteen and yet neither of us knew how to talk about my behavior. We talked about boys sure but somehow we never asked the right questions. 

If you are a long time reader you might remember phrasing I’ve used like my biochemistry is off and I’ve only been sexually attracted to a small number of men. Turns out that was my way of explaining my asexuality because it was the only language I had to describe it. But neither is accurate. In looking back at the guys that I have had crushes on, (and ones I might have said I wanted to have sex with which was me pushing myself to conform to “normalcy”) only one comes anywhere near what I think being sexually attracted might feel like. I remember really wanting to kiss him and thinking sex could be a possibility, but I’m pretty sure that is childlike compared to what sexual people must feel when they see someone they are attracted to. I imagine it is similar to a food craving. It’s physical and not something you can control having but that’s the closest I can get.

The crushes I have had on guys might seem strange in light of not being sexually attracted to them and that is something I had to wrap my head around right away in order to understand asexuality. I had always conflated sexual attraction with romantic attraction because that’s how I interpreted the world and all its messaging. I’d never understood how someone could have sex with someone they didn’t actually like. Forgive the arrogance of quoting myself but it’s fascinating to go back and see how I was asking the exact questions an asexual asks, but it never occurred to me to research why I was asking those questions in order to discover my asexuality:

“Attraction and love are relative things and for me it seems they should follow one another in leading up to sex. So why does it seem to me everyone and their mother is able to separate the two things? Even reverse them? I guess it’s normal to have sex with someone you’re attracted to and not in love with (at least for everyone who isn't me) but how do people have sex with someone they’re not attracted to? Do people really need to have sex that badly? Why don’t I have that drive?”

Understanding the difference in types of attractions led to understanding how I could have crushes on guys and not want to sleep with them. When I think about the guy I want to be with I imagine us snuggling on a couch. (It's a scene I’ve admittedly conjured a few times with yogajoe). The fact that most people imagine sex with the one they want to be with is totally alien to me. If I wanted to further label myself I would say I am a heteroromantic asexual. I like men and want to be in a deep emotional relationship with one, but I don’t really care about having intercourse with him. It doesn’t mean that I never will, and there is even a possibility that I could develop sexual attraction to a guy after falling in love with him (demisexuality) but at the moment it is not a priority in any way. There is a whole list of sub labels too complicated to go into right now, but you get the picture. Asexuality is an umbrella with a spectrum of experiences beneath it just like hetero, homo, bi, and pan sexualities.

But let’s go back to the beginning for a moment. I may have written about this before so forgive the repetition, but I’ve known since I hit puberty that I was different. I couldn’t figure out why I always felt out of place because I had always had friends and crushes on guys so it seemed like I was ‘normal’. But something was off. When everyone around me starting obsessing about sex I just figured I was a late bloomer and if I’m honest that I was just more mature because I had control. I still wanted a boyfriend but the more sex became an issue the more afraid I became, thanks to mom and all her boys only want one thing mantra. I was afraid of STDs and getting pregnant, also thanks to mom, so I just avoided the whole mess and concentrated on getting into a good college. Despite the crushes I may have had feeling like I might be broken began invading my thoughts.

Then I went to college and that feeling of being different subsided slightly, I think because I was so deeply involved with Jean, but it was still there. I (inwardly and outwardly though Jean was never very supportive about it) lamented about not having a boyfriend but couldn’t do much about it. The fear of rape began to grow at this point I think as I was inundated with stories about girls being raped at parties and when they walked anywhere alone at night on campus. So again, I mostly avoided guys and concentrated on trying to have fun and figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. I have also come to understand my relationship with Jean as being much more than a regular friendship, something I never allowed myself to think before because it was not sexual and it seemed weird to call it anything else. I beat myself up time and time again for not being able to get over how she treated me and how I let myself fall so low because she was just a friend. It was just a toxic friendship. But I was doing myself a disservice in calling it that. In the short documentary I mentioned above they use the term "queerplatonic" to describe relationships that run emotionally deeper than regular friendships but is not sexual. That is exactly what I had with Jean, which is why it has affected me so deeply and for so long. I guess at this point it just always will. K says I talk about her like people talk about ex spouses, but it’s not about sex. It’s about the emotional bond and when she broke ours she broke my heart. Because I never allowed myself to think about it in those terms I never grieved it properly. I guess it’s as simple as that.

When I finally freed myself from her I moved back home to help my mother heal from a nervous breakdown, and also to help myself heal after all I’d been through. The depression, the night hallucinations, the self-hatred, the rage…I had to recover my own identity and remember what it was like to live life for myself without any obligations to Jean. This is when M and I bonded as she had been in a similar abusive relationship with her best friend and had just gotten out of it. If I’m totally honest with myself it was yet another queerplatonic relationship but at the same time it was at the opposite end of the spectrum as my relationship with Jean. M adored me and worshipped everything I did. She encouraged me and gave me back my self-confidence. We helped each other through the aftermath of breaking up with our respective best friends. She put me on a pedestal I ultimately couldn’t handle. I told her to stop but she couldn’t help herself and eventually told me she was in love with me, something she later retracted. We had our own ups and downs and over the course of the years have grown distant, and despite the fact that she ended up hurting me in a completely different way than Jean I will always be grateful to her for helping me rebuild myself after a long, painful chapter. In the meantime I used all of this as yet another excuse to ignore men, dating and sex. But to my own credit, there was no way I could have had a healthy relationship in that state.

About a year after I got away from Jean and six months after 9/11 I quit my job and backpacked across Europe for six weeks as a sort of celebration of recovering myself and of life after experiencing the horror of the city’s tragedy. When I got home I felt refreshed and like myself again. I eventually moved out of my parents’ house, got a new job and joined the ranks of the living. It wasn’t long before the issue of men, dating and sex came back into focus though and my feeling of being broken became more pronounced. This time I attributed it to my fear of being raped and to my new fear of being emotionally devastated again. I didn’t trust anyone. In time I gained a few new friends, a terrible back stabbing boss, more bouts with depression and a new and fun feeling of isolation, but I was ok. For the most part. I started this blog around that time and really thought I’d be able to find my way out of the maze inside my head. Instead I just started running in larger, more complicated circles.

Over the next couple of years I fought harder and harder with myself about what I was supposed to be doing and what I was actually doing, what I was supposed to be feeling and what I was actually feeling, and dug a hole so deep I’m surprised I can see out of it. I use the present tense because I don’t think I’m quite done pulling myself out of it yet. I’m getting there, but it will take some time. The therapy and antidepressants a few years ago were worth it in that it brought me out of the dysthymic depression I was in but it never got to the heart of the matter. I dealt more fully with the experience with Jean but my therapist never offered insight on it being more than a friendship or why it affected me so deeply. I don’t know that it would have necessarily lead to discovering my asexuality but I think it says a lot about the work I have done on myself to try to understand my life.

I went back and read all of the posts from 2006. With the aid of time and my newfound knowledge of asexuality, it breaks my heart a little to see how much I suffered not knowing. How easy it would have been for me to see the light sooner if I had just thought to type some of my questions into a search. Instead I thought I was alone. And broken. It is such a common theme among people, asexuals in particular, who are different and don’t have the language to describe why.

 “Every time I visit him or he visits me, I hope for the chemistry and at the same time know at this point it doesn't seem likely that I'll let myself feel it anyway…Why am I so obsessed with that spark?
And why haven't I really felt any chemistry with anyone? Can I really do that much inhibiting with my mind?”

I believed for so long that I was repressing sexual attraction because what else could it be? Every single other person on earth experienced sexual attraction. Or so I thought. I was unaware people existed who don’t.

“I don't really see my virginity as something I'm hanging onto, because I'd gladly lose it if I could find someone I wanted to lose it to. And yes I hope it'll be someone I'm in love with, but at this point, I'll settle for someone I have chemistry with and who makes me feel comfortable (which I have to say again is odd that I haven't come across someone like this. I'd say I was comfortable with myself and my body, so I don't think that's the issue. Am I mixing up comfort with safety? If so, why am I so obsessed with feeling safe?)…I don't know why I'm trying to justify my normalness. It only enables the stereo-typers to raise their eyebrows and nod their heads. Considering this blog is pretty much a one sided conversation, maybe I'm just trying to convince myself I'm not a lost cause. Maybe one day I'll even figure out how to help me help myself.”

I have spent so much time trying to force myself into being the woman people expected me to be and even having the dreams people expected me to have. I’m supposed to be having sex. I’m supposed to want to be married. I’m supposed to want to have babies. I never allowed myself to imagine it was ok to not want these things. Rather, I never allowed myself to be ok with not wanting these things because I wanted to fit in just like everyone else. Instead I just kept worrying and wondering why I couldn’t seem to achieve any of them. The only reason I have ever cared about being a virgin is because of the stigma that comes with it. Because other people think I’m weird, mental, abused, or frigid for being one. The only reason I’ve posted about wanting sex is because I was talking myself into wanting it in order to be normal. I’ve struggled with the concept of sex for so long I literally confused myself about it; living by society’s dictate that I should be having it directly contradicted my (unexpressed) lack of wanting it. In truth I could care less about being a virgin. In truth, I could care less about sex. That doesn’t mean I’ll never have it, but it’s not on my list of priorities. And that freaks people out mostly because they don’t understand that you can have a deep emotional relationship with someone without also wanting to have sex with them. I can’t say for sure that I will never in my life experience sexual attraction, for as I said before if I am a demisexual and meet someone I fall in love with I could develop sexual attraction, but I do know that I have never experienced it so far in life.

After researching and eventually fully identifying with asexuality it was like stepping back from a Seurat painting. Instead of a bunch of random dots I finally saw the whole picture. All the things I never understood about my behavior and motivations suddenly became clear. And best of all, feeling broken was no longer on my list of daily emotions. I understand now why I seem to be immune to most advertising. Why I never bothered as a teen with all those women’s magazines that constantly harp on sex. Why I didn’t lose my mind when New Kids on the Block came out. Why the only poster of a guy I had on my wall growing up was Patrick Swayze (because Dirty Dancing). Why imagining having sex is so difficult. Why I don’t naturally and randomly think about sex. Why dating has been so hard. That one took a little more unpacking because it was wrapped up in my fear of being raped. 

After finally admitting to myself that I am completely indifferent toward sex, I realized why the threat of rape became so overwhelming. Not experiencing the physical urge for sex I feel no want or need to have it. There is no motivation. As a result the only way my brain could process having sex was if it was forced or coerced, especially due to my mother’s teachings as well as the world’s for that matter. I understood men’s sexuality as something that was uncontrollable. Once they got started they couldn’t stop. I never believed I could say stop and he would stop. News articles about rape across the world every day reinforced this belief.  Our hypersexualized culture taught me I should be having sex (whether I wanted it or not as a woman isn’t really important), that I should be dressing and behaving in a manner which invites sex, and that men want and should be given sex all the time. For someone who has never felt the desire to be sexual with another person it is terrifying. I never thought about enjoying it and never questioned why that was. For someone so hell bent on self-analysis that is crazy, especially because I'm well aware of how great orgasms feel. Self-love is a completely different sexual activity that is not determined one way or another under asexuality. I used to think, why bother getting a boyfriend when he's only going to want it all the time and I won't? It will inevitably cause problems and then it'll be over. I can't believe I never turned the question around and asked myself why I thought I'd never enjoy/want it myself. It didn't help that I constantly came across stories about how often women faked it and how men really didn't know how to please a woman. So I thought, why does anyone bother? I just thought women only did it for men and I wasn't willing to do that. I assumed that at some point in a vague and distant future I'd want it, but it would never be as much as he did and because he had no control over himself there would be no discussion about what was going to happen. I had no say. It is absolutely no wonder why I never really tried to get into a relationship when the only way I saw it existing was if I was constantly powerless. I'd already been powerless under Jean for almost six years, only two of which were fun and mutually beneficial.

Reading over this post from last year when my fear of rape was at an all time high made me want to examine the relationships of any kind that I have had with men throughout my life. I realized my fear only extended to those I felt showed any interest in dating me. I can say pretty confidently that all of the guys who have been in my life, outside of the two or three I met elsewhere and briefly dated, are ones who I interacted or interact with on a daily basis. That is to say sat in classes, lived in dorms, or worked in an office with over an extended period and got to know relatively well. And I really like all of them. As people, as professionals, as guys…as friends. I guess I wouldn’t really consider them friends if I didn’t, but it made me realize that I had somehow blinded myself to the fact that I do know good men. My father being first and foremost! How I grew up with such a kind, patient and passive male influence and yet went on to feel threatened by all men is a mystery. All I can say is fear is really powerful and oppressive. 

But I digress. There are those who will and do dismiss asexuality when and if they even know it exists. Dan Savage, a well-known gay rights activist, says in (A)sexual that asexuals are just people who haven’t come out of the closet. Or who are just making noise because they want attention. For him asexuality isn’t real. I actually understand why he feels the need to negate asexuality, because through his eyes it is intruding upon the work he has done to get recognition of gay rights and because asexuals are not actively discriminated against. But as someone who has surely suffered in life because of his difference from the norm he should at least make an effort to understand the reality of the experience. If he could feel how I have felt for the past 25 years he would have no doubt it’s real. The last thing I want or need is attention for my difference but being invisible has certainly taken its toll. There are others who try to pathologize it saying it’s just hormonal and can be fixed. Most asexuals actually have normal  levels and taking hormones does not change the lack of sexual attraction. Though the term asexuality is gaining traction as an orientation some in the medical field still regard it as Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder, just as homosexuality was once called a disorder. But it isn’t. It’s not something that happened to me. It’s not fixable. I didn’t choose it. There are some who think I just haven’t found the right guy. Other asexuals who have had sex are told they just haven’t had good sex yet. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to believe that an absence of attraction exists. Kinsey even reported it. If you can be attracted to the opposite gender, the same gender, both genders, or other types of genders, isn’t it logical that you can not be attracted to any gender? There has not been a ton of research yet but the little that has been done found that about 1% - 3% of the popoulation is asexual in both humans and animals.

I take great comfort in finally finding a community I feel like I belong to, regardless of how much or how little I participate in it. I have joined AVEN, the site asexuals usually find first. Reading the boards as well as seeing an increase in articles about asexuality has brought a real sense of relief to my life. As I said I am still processing and trying to figure out how to move forward with finding a life partner but I feel like I have a new perspective on things. One that maybe is a little more hopeful, at least at present. I am also still working out my real feelings about sex and sexual activity, which fluctuate as I imagine they do for most people on any given day. I have ‘come out’ so to speak to most of my close friends, all of who actually knew about asexuality. I could only say, why didn’t you tell me about it? But they have all been really amazing and supportive and it makes me feel great to have such genuine, kind friends who care about me. I also told my brother who is gay and we bonded over how much society influenced how we felt about ourselves, and how difficult it was/is to tell our parents. I am going to tell them in a few weeks when I visit and I am a little worried about it. They are both in their 70s and I am pretty sure have never heard of asexuality. I hadn’t and I’m 37. Their generation has barely gotten a handle on homosexuality…it’s not that I think they will reject me or anything like that, but I know they will have a hard time with it. I think my mom will say I just haven’t met the right man and my dad will pathologize it and say I just need hormones. Whether or not they say these things out loud doesn’t matter, I know they’ll think them. It will be hard for them to hear that another of their children has suffered due to their sexuality especially with something as ambiguous as asexuality, which so many people think isn’t real or is a disorder than can be fixed. It really just hurts to know that they will be disappointed that their daughter has not and will not live a “normal” life. (Not that they are disappointed in me, but rather in life’s unfolding.) That is not to say I will never get married or adopt a baby (I’m 99% sure I will never birth a child) but suffice to say my life has never been normal by our culture’s standards. Sexuality aside, as a mutli-ethnic, strong willed, independent, single woman in her late 30s I am not the norm. But there was always the hope that I’d fall in line and do what everyone else does regarding love and marriage. I even harbored it. I’m still working on the evolution of that hope to fit what I actually want and not what I am expected to want but it is surprisingly hard to let go of beliefs you’ve had forever despite knowing they’re incredibly flawed. At least now I am finally grounded in an identity that makes sense to me. Hopefully it will empower me to choose my own direction instead of being lead.

All in all I think I laid out a relatively good plan in my very first post, though I no longer believe there is one common thing life is about for everyone.

“My plan is not to make this a pity-party but to work out my fears, get over them and attempt to find a loving, intimate relationship with someone. Because really, isn't that what life is about?”

After nine years I think I’m finally one step closer, which for me is a mountain’s crossing from where I started.

Some really great asexuality references if interested:

http://www.asexuality.org/home/

http://www.asexuality.org/wiki/index.php?title=Main_Page

http://www.asexualityarchive.com/

http://www.asexualexplorations.net/home/

And some great articles out of the media machine:

Asexuality: The 'X' In A Sexual World – Huffington Post, 2013

Interview With an Asexual Clarifying What I Got Wrong About Asexuality – Jezebel, 2015

An Orientation to Asexuality – CNN, 2014

Life Without Sex: The Third Phase of the Asexuality Movement – The Atlantic, 2012

ASEXUALS: Who Are They and Why Are They Important? – Psychology Today, 2009

Wanted: Shy Guys' Advice

Question for you shy guys out there, and by shy I mean capable of holding eye contact with a woman and able to contribute to small talk, but sort of keeps to himself and not one to start a conversation or try to make eye contact first.

If there was a woman in your yoga class who usually smiled and said good morning to you and who when she noticed the day you cut your very long hair very short she immediately said I like it! before even saying hello, would you think she was interested in you? She talks a little to a couple others but mostly keeps to herself.

I'm not sure what else to do aside from just asking point blank if he'd like to get coffee one day after class. But I keep stopping myself for many, many reasons I won't bother to go into because you can probably guess. I don't know if he's got a girlfriend, I'm tempted to say of course he does because he's cute, and I have no idea if he's age appropriate for me because he looks young, but I'm drawn to his quiet, non-aggressive energy. It's actually pretty telling because physically he's not the type I go for at all: full beard, muscular chest, long hair though that's gone now- he skews very masculine but without any machismo!! At least, from the very limited exchanges I've had with him.

Give me some small talk to start a conversation with him! I don't know what to say to find out the essentials: girlfriend? how old? what he does for a living? does he like it?
Or at least tell me what I should say to let him know I'm interested and the ball is in his court?

I'm so not the type to freak out if he's not interested and I want to tell him that so if he isn't he doesn't have to feel awkward coming to class. (I'm content to just look at his ass. What? A girl can't look at a guy's ass? That's sexist!) But how do you get that across without sounding like you're just looking for a good time?

aiee.

And then I just found out that an old co-worker of mine is getting divorced. He's age appropriate and a genuinely great guy. I can't say I've never wondered what it would be like to be with him, not in a sexual way (usually my problem), but as his girlfriend in a relationship that went deeper than office gossip. I don't know that I'm attracted to him…but I feel like he could be someone I could try with because I like him so much as a person. Then again, I'd HATE myself if I ended up not feeling any chemistry and then had to hurt him in any way.

I should say this line of thinking isn't coming from left field. It's been quite a while since we saw each other and he sent me an email last week just to say hi and casually mentioned maybe getting together to catch up. I thought he was married so it seemed all fine and good but now knowing that he's single it puts another layer on it. I ended up stopping by his office and that's when he told me face to face that he and the wife "split" also in a sort of casual manner in the course of our conversation. Thus, the thinking.

gaaaa.

Yogajoe is a better first try I think…so shy guys, help me out! :)

Now

2015
I've made no resolutions to break.
I've managed to maintain a positive outlook.
I've become acutely aware that my happiness depends solely on my ability to embrace my life as it is without letting other people's expectations tarnish it.
It's a hard road because the world's visuals alone carry so much weight, but I know I'm strong enough.
I've comes across all these terms that when I research them seem to apply to me- introvert, indigo, free thinker- but then I realize I'm just finding new ways to box myself under a label. A label other people have created.
So here is to embracing myself as I am and my life as it is and letting what other people think roll off my back.
Someone get me a drink, I'm going to need a little help. ;)

Mantra

Live from love, let go of fear.

I am attempting to manifest a gentle, intelligent, patient man who is funny, charming, modest and kind through positive mental energy.

Wish me luck.

Welcome home

I guess it's a sign of growth that I am now frustrated with instead of comforted by finding myself behind the walls I tried so hard to break down when it came to my friends. Trying to remain open and connected to them, especially when I was feeling down, worked for a while but then I started to need them in small ways, and then bigger ways, and they failed to deliver. Basically what I was so afraid of happening happened. Before I broke down and went to therapy I stopped communicating with friends because a) I didn't want to be a burden and b) I didn't want them to disappoint me by not being there for me. Well, I reached out to the two friends I consider closest and they have both disappointed me. Repeatedly. I realize everyone has their own lives to lead and no one should drop everything when a friend in need reaches out, but I can't even get either one of them to put aside a couple hours to have lunch. This is making them sound like horrible people but it's not like that. Life happens I guess and sometimes people just don't realize what they're doing. 

M is the kind of friend who I rarely see even though we don't live that far apart but we've been through a lot emotionally so we are connected on that level. I'm beginning to feel though that although we will always be connected emotionally, presently that thread is not enough. When we do communicate, usually via text, she keeps saying she misses me and wants to catch up but then can't get together. Ever. She is the one who I credit with helping me blossom creatively and yet she never responded to the last song I sent her. She KNOWS how important music is to me as well as her opinion. She also really hurt me when she sent me a postcard announcing she'd gotten married. She and her wife went to town hall and did not invite anyone, but still. A postcard? And as is my style I said nothing because I didn't want to make her feel guilty. I know she had her reasons, one of which was she didn't want to make me feel bad about not being asked to be in her wedding or even at it, and all the details of her marriage are totally hers to tell or not, but I thought I was high enough on the food chain to at least get a phone call. She's busy I get that. But when I'm busy I still make time for the people I love, no matter how near or far they are emotionally or physically. Maybe it's just me.

K is my bff for 20 years now. She started working (part time) again and has 2 kids. She's busy, again I get that. But she's a control freak and can't let anyone else do anything so she feels overwhelmed and like she's perpetually behind on everything. I've tried to tell her she needs to make time for herself to see me (I'm one of very few people she can relax around) but again every date I give her to get together she "has to see" because she has a million other things going on. The problem is growing with her and I don't want to make her feel guilty for neglecting me (she has in the past apologized for this so she knows she does it) but at the same time, I never ask my friends for anything. Now I need a little of their time and I can't get it. It hurts. I credit her with saving my sanity and helping get to therapy but now she's one of the main sources of my sadness. I could never tell her that though because the guilt would consume her. I can't be responsible for that so I just have to suffer. 

The obvious larger problem is that my life has not changed over the years we've been friends. Theirs have all changed drastically. I include them in my family but I am not a part of theirs. I give them slack because of their various other life obligations but when did I fall off that list completely? No one wants to be thought of as an obligation but you know what? True friends are under the obligation to act like friends toward each other. 

I'm just suddenly very aware of my lack of human contact on a daily basis.

I am trying to find a community to join but it is not easy. I'm also looking for a mixed ethnicity community to join (I've recently gone though a bit of an identity shift concerning my mixed ethnic background) but they seem to be only online or in California. My hope holds out as usual for now. 

The Fumes of Fear

I guess I should just admit it to myself and not excuse it or try to sweep it under the rug with thoughts of change anymore.

I'm scared.

I'm still scared to death.

Of men.

Every day I am inundated with news and statistics of sexual assault on top of "entertainment" that reflects this brutality of women. Women are raped and beaten and murdered by men they know as well as ones they don't across the globe in real life in real time and then also for the sake of entertainment. I can't take it anymore. How am I supposed to overcome this fear if the reality of life never shows me anything good?

I've hidden myself so far away in order to avoid the male gaze attention I used to get. And yet here I am on this blog writing over and over how I want to meet someone to share my life. How do I reconcile wanting to be with someone with being afraid of everyone? Part of me thinks I've repressed my sexuality in terms of being attracted to guys because of this fear, part of me wants to explain it by defining it as asexuality. I'd like to have sex but I'm afraid of being assaulted.  I want very badly to be in a relationship but I'm afraid of being assaulted. I'm afraid because of all I've seen and read that men have no ability (nor desire) to stop themselves from taking what they want. I realize this is not true, plenty of men are amazing and take great care of the women they are with, but emotionally my brain refuses to believe I could find a genuinely good man who would take the time to make me feel secure. Not in a "I'm not good enough" way but in a "I haven't met one (prospective partner) man who makes me feel safe," way. I even hold the ones I do consider good and have gone on to be friends of mine at arm's length, I guess because I've never let any of them get close enough to show me men can be trustworthy.

Nearly 1 in 5 (18.5%) women reported experiencing rape at some point in their lives according to a CDC report in 2012. I am unbelievably grateful I have never been assaulted because I don't think I can handle it, but yet my life has been affected by it anyway. I stopped smiling, I stopped wearing dresses and skirts...I'm not as strong as I'd like to believe I am.

And yet…and yet I still travel solo around the world, with obvious exceptions of course. I can get on a plane to explore a new culture half way across the world but I can't go on a date. What is wrong with me?

It's a catch-22 I'm not sure I'll ever be able to overcome. How can I get what I want if I've repressed my own ability to get it and suspect everyone of being a borderline rapist on top of it?

I Guess It'll Have To Be The Old Fashioned Way...

…meeting someone face to face.

Because eHarmony was a HUGE mistake.

I am currently trying to close my account. They are refusing to comply claiming I haven't paid my last installment so they don't have to "honor" my request to cancel. It's inane. And a total rip off.

Mr. eHarmony himself is still living in the dark ages because aside from being a raging homophobe, there's this among yet still other things. Why oh why oh why did I ignore my misgivings and sign up?

Because although this confirms everything I've thought about online dating that little, tiny dot of inner optimism refuses to be crushed. It blinded me from doing more research on the company because I unconsciously knew how disgusting it was and didn't want the full picture. Shame on me. :(

Maybe This Time

Thinking about maybe giving eharmony a try. Despite the many times I've said online dating won't work for me that tiny unsinkable optimist in me is scratching at the inside of my brain. Also despite knowing eharmony is homophobic and probably a number of other despicable things, I can't help but feel like the real life route I'm wishing for just isn't happening. I don't have the highest hopes, but weirdly I have hopes. I don't know. I haven't gotten beyond the start page yet so we'll see. Also, maybe they will reject me anyway. Then I can stop thinking about it being a possibility at least.

Logical Results

Good news! I'm chlamydia free!

O wait. Don't you have to be sexually active to get it?

Knowing full well that the second my Dr. leaves me standing naked in the exam room I am gone from her consciousness until next year when we meet again for another awkward exchange where she reads my chart and remembers, oh yeah NSA, I can't help but wonder why she (only) occasionally has me tested.

Is she secretly hoping I'm lying?

Turn Me On, I'm A Radio (That Gets Like One Station. Dare You To Find It.)

I watched a documentary called (A)Sexual the other night on Netflix. I'm not sure if it helped or just added a layer of "so what?" to my issue with sexuality, but I guess I'm glad I watched it. At the very least it has legitimized my thought/fear posted about a few times in this blog that my feelings of sexual attraction are much less than "normal". I took a few "are you an asexual?" quizzes online, because we all know that's a healthy thing to do, and they all resulted in a yes.

The thing is though I don't think I'm asexual. I mean, I guess I'm on the spectrum the same way people are now on the autism spectrum (consequently some argue asexuality can be linked to a type of autism- the not wanting to be touched and so forth) but the more I read about it the less clear my position becomes. You would think it would be the opposite. Though most of the people behind the asexual "movement" so to speak admit it is the farthest thing from black and white the questions they pose regarding the actual act of sex with another person I obviously can't answer or even pretend to. They say in response to people who don't believe asexuality exists that you can know you don't like/want sex if you've never had it. It's not a repression or fear. Like sexual attraction exists, no sexual attraction exists. I'm not sure why that is unbelievable to some people.

In some of the articles I read the question is asked, do you see people you'd like to have sex with just by looking at them? My answer is no, but is it because I genuinely don't think about sex when I think about being with a guy or is it because I've never had sex? I have a hard time imaging having sex. That whole 'people think about sex x number of times a day' is crazy to me. I only think about it when watching tv or a movie and the requisite sex scene arrives. I always root for it, like watching and am even turned on, but I'm not at my desk during the day thinking, "man I need to have sex. Look at that guy I bet he's amazing in bed." An asexual would be unhappy with my questioning my answer because maybe I do know that I don't like it and just can't admit it to myself. I just feel like I have to try it before I can make that determination. Everyone is different. Some days I really, really want to have sex, some days I think ew, do I really have to do that? It's so messy. I'll have to do laundry every time. 

At any rate, realizing this about myself changes nothing...though it should help me be more accepting of myself. The problem is as I said before, I don't think I can define myself as asexual. Not that it would be any easier to deal with if I could but like everything else in my life I feel a huge contradiction. I think I have experienced sexual attraction but I never acted on it so it was never fulfilled. This is graphic so be warned: during my first kiss (at 23 mind you) he was pressed up against my leg and I could feel him harden. I liked it. Did I imagine anything beyond that kiss? No. Did I reach down and touch it? No. It was actually only in retrospect that I realized I liked it. I'm not sure I was totally conscious of it when it happened. I've never actually told anyone about that. But I think this is why I'm not asexual; I enjoyed something (remotely as it were) sexual with another person. If we had been alone I think I would have gone further and probably enjoyed it despite being nervous. Everything I've read said asexuals can want and enjoy romance and intimacy with someone else but they do not enjoy anything sexual. That does not include masturbation or even being aroused by images or fantasy while alone...that's why it's so hard to determine for myself I think. It would be easier if asexuality could be defined as not enjoying being sexually pleasured in any way.

In thinking about Fusion, I wasn't really sexually attracted to him. I thought he was cute and interesting and tried to imagine having sex with him (which I think I even said in my post about him) but if I'm honest he didn't arouse me in any way. Here is where I get mad at myself. If I don't have a normal sexual attraction rate, why am I shutting down a guy who I like and think is cute just because I'm not sexually attracted to him? (Though he was also not sexually attracted to me so that's probably a factor I should take into account.) And therein lies my problem. I want to be sexually attracted. I want to be turned on both physically and mentally. For most people maybe this isn't asking too much. For me though maybe it is because my own damn body is working against me.

I am conflicted but it doesn't even matter. I just have to wait for the right person to enter my life and turn me on. Leaving this to chance is driving the control-freak in me insane. Frustration is my middle name.

The Timeline

I think I've finally discovered why life is so emotionally exhausting for me. That optimism I've been convincing myself is just a tiny part of my outlook, consistently overshadowed by my cynicism but yet present enough to keep me going, is actually a big part of my outlook. I've realized with every new thing I try I am hopeful. Incredibly, almost childlike-ly hopeful despite my attempt to deny, hide or repress it. Then, time after time, I am disappointed. Incredibly, aged-ly disappointed. And it wipes me out.

I moved to my new town outside of the city. Every factor surrounding the move was stressful and overwhelming but wonderful now that I've settled in. I really like it here. (Hope). I ventured out to an open mic. (Disappointed). I started my second semester of grad school. (Hope). Though academically both classes are going to be great, meeting people-wise...(Disappointed). I finished my freelance job in the city so now I'm working from home again which is both awesome and isolating. School is great for breaking the isolation...and yet I still manage to feel alone in any crowd. I know a huge part of that is in my head, but it's not like I'm the center of attention either.

And I hate that I'm complaining. But here is the only place I will let myself do it out loud so to speak. I don't want to spout this stuff to my friends and my best friend is going through her own depression now so I don't want to repeat my nonsense to her. I want to try to be a positive part of her life.

But I'm just so tired. Life tired. Post after post I say I'm tired and hope something will go my way personally speaking, how much longer can it go this way? I can't understand how my life has maintained this imbalance.

I finished the book- I liked it but it never delved into her deeper emotional state. And for some reason it makes me sad that I could have written the same book with my experiences (and wanted to) but always felt no one would have wanted to read it let alone publish it. Sort of like another little failure due to my amazing ability to inhibit myself. But I digress- Here is an interview with her where she does talk a little bit about how she feels. Her views on dating are exactly like mine, and yet I know she'll meet someone in the next couple years. She won't make it to 36 alone.
 Most days I don't think about it too much...well, the days I'm busy anyway. It's all about time. When I have the free time the brain always goes back to my age and my being alone. Good thing school started again, I won't have time.
...
And despite being exhausted and disappointed I guess I have to admit hope is a good thing. If I lost it I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be long for this world.

(Not) Hopeless in NYC

"She was 34 years old, we had all given up on her. Like there was no hope, you know," this next part was carefully whispered so no one could hear,"'cuz she was a virgin."

This, said to me by my co-worker friend who is just as single without prospects as I am as we had once again got on the subject of being single, made me want to simultaneously disappear and nonchalantly sit back in my chair and say, "what makes you think I'm not?" Instead I went very still, as I always do when someone says the word virgin like it's a bad thing, and nodded dumbly doing all virgins everywhere a disservice.

I wanted to say, you know you've had sex and now you're older than 34 and still single. That woman is now married with a kid. Why is there hope for you and not her? And seriously, why do you think I'm not? Every story I've ever told you has been chaste and even after all the stories you've told me about your sex life I've never once reciprocated. Two and two? No? Too weird to think a normal woman you call your friend could possibly be a virgin?

Ok then.

I'm glad I didn't tell her as I wanted to a few months ago. That's not to say she would treat me differently, I actually think she's a really great friend and this newsflash wouldn't change what she thinks of me (at least on a personal front. She may think I'm repressed or something because most people who have had sex can't understand that not having sex doesn't automatically mean you're repressed), but this just shows what she's really thinking. I'm not mad at her or anything I'm just tired of being made to feel hopeless or weird about it because left to my own devices it would never be a factor. Who cares how much or how little sex someone has unless you are that person? Sex is not a biological need as some believe. We do not die from not having sex. We may die out, but we don't die from its absence like we do food and water. Of course we can suffer detrimental psychological effects but so can an internet addict who is forced to go without internet access. It's all about connection yes but people use many ways to connect, sex is not the definitive form. Obviously there are people in everyone's life who they connect with and at the very same time don't have sex with. Why is that so hard for people to remember?

On the other hand it's nice to know a 34 year old virgin met and got married in this godforsaken city after years of looking and being labeled hopeless by her friends. 

I Could Write The Book On That...

So I was reading articles on the internet today, as I tend to do at work, and I came across a plug for this book:

I was interested of course and immediately bought the book for a number of reasons. 1 because yay a memoir not filled with glamorous life adventures of travel and sex, or cutthroat careers and sex, or weird upbringings and sex- no, this was clearly someone I could identify with rather than just admire for having/surviving a life that would make an awesome movie. 2 because I wanted to see how she represented herself and how she managed to become an adult without having a romantic, let alone sexual relationship. I'm only a few pages in but what I've gleaned so far is she's got a good sense of humor which lends a hand to her not wallowing in self-pity and that she's only 25. What I'm interested in though is the part where she does get serious, because you know a book like this will have to at some point.

25. 

I know some of my readers are that age or even younger and struggle with being a virgin and single their whole lives due to the ridiculous expectation to be sexually active by 18...but to me at this point it seems so young. 

They way she begins the book is cute and much the same way I could start my own- being in love with a boy at 7. I'm only up to her being 12 but the major difference I can see so far is that she was absolutely boy crazy. I never was. I liked boys don't get me wrong, but I didn't hang pictures up anywhere of teen celebs or obsess over what it would be like to be married to them or any boy for that matter. Weirdly I had "boyfriends" all through grammar school but once puberty hit and hand holding wasn't enough I freaked out and shut down.

Then I thought, well if she could write a book about still being single at 25, I could write one about still being single at 36. Then I thought, so could everyone on my blog roll. We should all write a book. Maybe a collection of short memoir stories about our own experiences. I would read that. 

Of course I may be biased.

But it's an idea.

I have to go read more to see how this book plays out. I'm crossing my fingers it keeps us all in a good light.

End of Chapter: So Close

Well, third time's a charm I guess. I found another buyer and it looks like this sale will actually go through. However, this buyer is crazy too and because of the prolonged process at the beginning of the sale, I lost the most perfect rental apartment by hours. I was so angry I couldn't see straight when it happened, mostly because I was feeling sorry for myself and harping on why it feels like nothing can ever go smoothly for me. But also because why does everyone have to be an asshole all the time?

Anyway, school is keeping me pretty occupied but this sale sent my stress level through the roof. Oddly now that the worst has happened and I don't have a place to move but I have a date I have to be out, I'm less stressed. Strange how that happens. Looking forward to the change, holding out hope I will meet some new people, still struggling with the is it fate/am I trying hard enough theory and just trying to be ok with the way my life is going.

Maybe I should move to Japan. Then maybe at least the stigma of being a virgin would subside. But of course I do want to have sex and get married and am not obsessed with my digital life so maybe not. Sigh.

Things

I have a new friend at work. She started around February and for whatever reason I trusted her enough to tell her about my life. I'm not sure how high the wall is that I have up but she's the first person in a long time I've bothered to open up to at all. She does not know I still hold the V-card but for some reason there's a part of me that wants to tell her. I know she won't believe me at first but after I explain why she'll get it. I dunno. I probably won't. Maybe it's just nice to have someone new to talk to about life stuff- she's reciprocated with things about her life, most recently being sex. Yay. My favorite subject.

She has this guy she calls her booty call. It is not something she does often (and in actuality has only done a couple times) but she admitted to being a little lonely lately and wanted sex. So she went ahead and did it. I have to admire that. All in all though she's having the same problem I am: finding a guy she connects with. The difference is she goes out on dates, has had boyfriends and also sex. Feels like worlds apart with the same outcome. I could do the whole physical appearance/personality comparison but it's a waste of time. We are all well aware none of it matters in that way.

I haven't been able to move yet because the sale of my apartment fell through. My buyer strung me along for the prime summer months when people are looking and then couldn't come up with the finances. I'm so irritated because I was told different things by her lawyer and her realtor but always that she had the money and she was so close to getting the mortgage. In the mean time I look like an ass for giving her extension after extension. I finally just killed it. Square one.

Now for some reason my heart is impatiently screaming at me that I'm going to meet someone where I'm going and I just prolonged the process. My head knows I am absolutely setting myself up for disappointment but I can't help but hold on to that little bit of optimism.

School started and I am LOVING it. It feels really great to have the gears grinding again, my brain forced to focus on cognitive readings longer than a 100 word news blurb.  But still I haven't met anyone. I forced myself to attend a bunch of orientations and meet and greets and in the end always found myself in conversation with a group of females. I can't win. 

12 Years? I'm Supposed to Be Amazed?

What? How...what? seriously? I can't even form a coherent thought about this article..

First of all, I had no idea American and French women were in competition. Of any kind let alone sexually.

Second of all, ...what? how? what? seriously? Everything about this 'memoir' makes me want to pull my hair out.

Life & The Introvert

I'm feeling a little hermetic today, probably partly because it's a big American holiday and I should be feeling the exact opposite. I was invited to two different parties but my stress level has been climbing over the past few weeks and it makes me want to hide my head in the sand. Stress + Expected Social Behavior = Hermit

I recently read that book "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking" if you've heard of it. While reading the first few pages I felt like the author had somehow gotten a glimpse inside my head, which in any other circumstance would have freaked me out. In this case it was comforting. She was pretty much describing in detail the whole way in which I relate to the outside world. After a few chapters it started to make me see how I could possibly see myself in a different light...or at the very least, stop criticizing myself so much for feeling the way I do. Much of the book was sort of common sense, but she did make me take a second look at the way I process things and that in itself was incredibly worth it.

The first thing that struck me was her separation of the shy introvert from the sensitive introvert. I guess at times I can be a little shy but I wouldn't really consider myself a shy person. It never made total sense to me to call myself an introvert because I equated it with being shy and unable to make friends. Instead I went straight to "I guess i'm just off then. Maybe overly moody. Definitely different." But sensitive? How many times have I said that on this blog alone? She talks about how exhausting it is for introverts to be social and the only way to recharge is to spend quiet time alone. (Conversely it the exact opposite for extroverts which sort of blows my mind.) I always thought there was something weird about the fact that I needed alone time. She goes on to say that it is of course not black and white, no one is totally one or the other. We have traits of both that come into play at various times in our lives, depending on our circumstances and experiences, and there is nothing stopping anyone from becoming (or faking) the one they feel they are not. But ultimately we are born with tendencies toward one and you can see it as soon as a child begins to socialize. 

Despite being somewhat if not totally aware of my introverted tendencies I used to get so angry at myself for not wanting to go to parties. It was this weird sort of self-acceptance while fighting against it at the same time. Admittedly I still scold myself for not being more social which ultimately just leads to getting depressed, but lately I've been able to take a step back and not scold so harshly. (Not sure why I was only able to do that after reading it written by a stranger but not after my best friend told me repeatedly to stop it.) I suppose ultimately it's a gain on the self-acceptance ladder and I have to thank her for that.

I used to think I used to be a happy person. Perhaps I was when I was very small and unaware that the world outside my house existed. But once I was exposed I think the happiness was replaced with concern for others which inevitably lead to being hurt. Not that I was a sad, loner kid, I was actually a pretty happy kid, but over time I think the introversion solidified. Unnoticeably maybe because my mom was always one for 'go play in your room'. She only had to tell me once because I loved playing alone in my room- it's only now when I see my friends' kids that I realize not all kids are like that. Most of them need constant attention and entertainment. I provided that all for myself. My mom kept all my school records and I read through them recently. From 1st to around 5th grade various teachers commented on how I treated the other kids as well as the teachers themselves with care. It shouldn't surprise me I know that in the end my constant awareness of others' feelings became my downfall, but it's fascinating to discover I did not learn that behavior, I was born with it. I'm pretty sure neither of my brothers gave a damn how other people felt at that age and we all grew up in the same house. 

To paraphrase the book, unhappy people see setbacks as something that ruined a good thing while progressive people see them as something that made them stronger. I have experienced both of those ways of thought concerning my friendship with Jean. On the one hand I think, that was such a painful experience I will never be the same. My whole world has darkened and I'm not as nice as I used to be. On the other hand I think, that was such a painful experience I am much stronger for it and it has made me into who I am today. Luckily now I don't focus too much on that part of my past. I still wonder sometimes how I'd be different if I had been stronger with her, or even better had never met her at all, but I can't help feel that because it happened (along with all the other shitty treatment I've received from various people- I can't give her sole credit) I'm way more introverted than I ever was. Then I fight with myself about whether it's ok or unacceptable to be that way.

I've also come to realize that at this point, right now, I'm either overwrought (emotionally) or under-stimulated (intellectually) and I think that's why I'm ALWAYS exhausted. I look forward to the weekend so much because it means I'll have time to do the things I love and I find all I can do is sleep or veg in front of the tv because I'm tired. It takes everything I've got to do laundry or go food shopping and then I just get angry at myself all over again because it's like, well then DO something, stop complaining.

So I currently find myself selling my apartment, moving to a new town, preparing to go to grad school (I was accepted!), deciding on whether to take a staff job doing what I love but at the very same time being bored out of my mind, all of which is taking too long to happen so my brain is literally on fire. Some days it's great and it propels me forward, other days all I want to do is hide in a dark cave. A friend of friend said, "you are remarkably calm! i would be so stressed out." when she found out all I was up to these last few months. I was like, you should see the inside my head. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and running in circles, it's quite the show. Apparently though I have decent composure, so there's that. 

I was talking with another friend about depression. She said, do you think there will be an end to it when you find someone? She said she used to suffer from depression stemming from poor self-confidence/image and always expected it would go away when she met someone. It has gotten better since she met her partner but of course it has not disappeared. Being with someone pretty much means dealing with your problems plus someone else's problems. 

I am a-ok with that.

I said rationally speaking of course I don't believe my depression will stop when I meet someone (when I sat down and thought about it, it's been happening since I hit puberty so I'm pretty sure it's at least partly in the chemistry) but I can't help feeling like no matter how awful I feel, at least I'll have someone to share in my life. I know what alone feels like. I know what lonely feels like. There's a part of me, probably the overblown romantic part, that whole heartedly believes that just having someone there will make it just a little bit easier. It may be a false belief, I'm not completely naive I know life is just as hard with someone as without, but it's one I need I think to keep going. And anyway, how would this have become famous if not partly true?

I need to find a new apartment as I have accepted an offer on my place. I'm alternately thrilled and terrified. (Seems to be a familiar feeling whenever I try to change anything). I've been out to the new town I want to live in to just drove around a few times, and I started to think I'd convinced myself I loved the place so it would be easier to move. It's as congested and busy as where I am now just with more suburban houses and greenery. Unless I move to farmland in west Jersey it's inescapable. I'm suddenly questioning whether I should move when I know I need to...as if I could make the wrong decision...as if there's a right and wrong here. 

I still incessantly wonder what it would be like to shut off. The only moment of peace I get is that split second before I fall asleep - after falling asleep I'm dreaming or hallucinating (they've started again albeit a very light version at the moment) or waking up because my brain is on fire again thinking about all the what ifs. I'd love to sleep for a week.

I guess I'm writing all this cuz it's easier for me to communicate this way, another trait verified in the book along with over analysis and a rich creative sense. However I've all but stopped writing lately which is bad. Something else in the book is making me think about how to motivate myself back into writing. She says remember what you wanted to be when you were a child, the core of that dream likely remains true.

After a few years of convincing myself I was going to be an acrobat, I realized I wanted to be a writer. Up through the later years of college I held on to that belief. Granted I ultimately found a different creative outlet that I really do enjoy, I still used to write stories in my head constantly. Over the years even that has subsided and it makes me sad. My world view has changed for the darker. Being an adult really sucks sometimes. I used to be so appreciative of the world around me, I just have to find a way to get back to that...and to find humor again beneath all the negativity. If you can believe it I used to be known for having the biggest, loudest laugh. There is nothing I enjoy more than a real life story about something mundane that makes me giggle. I am a big fan of David Sedaris and aspire to one day have a book like his about my own silly adventures. My friends used to love getting emails from me about my random little experiences.

So I find myself repeating my attempt at a positive mantra: I will try. I hope being back in an academic setting will force me to have some discipline. 

Happy fourth. :)

Have I Served My Time?

When does it get easier?

Please tell me at some point it gets easier.

A Literal Fevered Dream

I dreamed I had a fever. There were others who had fevers too, but after awhile theirs started to break. Mine only got worse. There were hospital type beds on the crowded street. It did not seem strange to be lying in one of them. People were either indifferent to me or as in the case of the woman tending to me did not believe me. But my skin was hot and I was exhausted. I kept trying to open my eyes but didn't have the strength to keep them open. I could tell by her body language that she thought I was faking.

My mind was going a mile a minute and I just couldn't take her judging me so I tried to get up to walk home. My legs kept giving out as I balanced along a brick wall, eyes half open and bent at the waist. Eventually I just laid down in the street, not far from the beds. She came over and poured ice all over me, thinking it would make me jump up. I couldn't feel it and only sunk under another wave of exhaustion.

I looked up fever on a bunch of different dream dictionary sites and they all said something different. The only one that seemed to apply was this one from here:

To dream that you are stricken with this malady, signifies that you are worrying over trifling affairs while the best of life is slipping past you, and you should pull yourself into shape and engage in profitable work.

I wouldn't say what I'm worrying about is trifling, but it is certainly distracting me from enjoying my life. I know I've said it a thousand times but I just can't get over being tired. All the time. I suppose maybe it's a symptom of a low grade depression, as my sleep has been on a better cycle as of late, or maybe it's just the result of a relentless inner voice that constantly reminds me of the things I have to do, the things I haven't done and the things I might never get to do.

Far be it from me to focus on what I have done, what I have enjoyed and what I have at present. I wonder yet again if I should go back on medication. I hate even the thought.

Back Under

Loneliness is an anchor. No matter where you try to hide it within, it will always weigh you down. Sometimes, when the timing is right, the tucks and curls of the waves hold you up and while your head is above water you feel the warmth and joy of the sun on your skin and the air in your lungs. But then, like always, the water keeps moving and you find yourself beneath the surface again. I don't know if this is what life is like for anyone else. I imagine as it is a result of being human that everyone experiences something similar to a certain degree, but I really wonder what life is like in someone else's mind. Someone un-selfaware that doesn't question her place in the world or how she's living the gift of life. Someone who never falls prey to the cyclical nature of negative thoughts and dark depressions. Is it a warm bliss? Or an empty oblivion?

I went down to the DC suburbs to explore and decide if it was my next big move. It wasn't. Perhaps it was because it wasn't what I was expecting, perhaps it was because unconsciously I knew leaving my friends wasn't a smart move, but I didn't take to any of the neighborhoods I saw. I was hoping to get that feeling I got the first time I rode into my neighborhood now. This is it. Plain and simple. It might be the only time in my life I've ever been so sure of something so quickly. I guess maybe that's why this has become so complicated for me. I still love my neighborhood but I have to get away from the city. I need to. 

So after yet more sleepless nights I have decided to move out to the suburbs and go back to school for my Masters. Unfortunately for what I want the city is the best place to get it. And I'm still working here. At any rate these decisions made me feel so much better and lighter. Until last night. I began thinking, well what if I still don't meet anyone in the next couple years while I'm working and studying? Then after I finish and am just working again I'll be right back where I started. Sad, lonely and bored just in a different place. I think being bored is actually what prompted school- I love what I do creatively, but the way the industry is going there's not much critical thinking involved. Some work days I spend a lot of time being bored and it's aggravating because I have so many things I could be doing. There's only so much internet my eyes can take and being in an office hinders my other creativities. Or maybe it just feels like I'm always being watched so I am compelled to stick to work even when I don't have any. Boredom just magnifies the loneliness which in turn feeds the sadness. 

I don't know. Some dear readers are so encouraging and have told me that I am brave. It doesn't feel that way. Despite trying to change things and talking a good game, falling prey to my own negative thoughts feels like a giant weakness. I'm just repeating all my years of past posts in saying I was doing so well! And now suddenly I'm not. That's my life in a nutshell. I haven't cried yet but I can feel it coming. I mean, maybe it also has to do with hormones and my cycle which is such a fun part of being female. I wish there was a way to tell the difference. Like, when it's my period a perfect little red dot appears on my stomach. When it's depression it's blue. 

All I know is I don't understand why the path I have tread is a solo one and always has been. Even the the most miserly somehow have someone who loves them and deep down they love in return. I can't reconcile fate and free will in my head, so my belief system just swings back and forth. The only constant is that the answer to "why am I still alone?" makes me sad either way; the universe is withholding or I'm not doing enough. I just can't accept that some people are never meant to find love. Maybe if I did I could find happiness.