Love & Violence II

What do you get when you mix perpetually third wheeling polyamorous relationships and avoidant tendencies? Me <3 

It's funny, I've been in four different relationships with people who have been in pre-established relationships. It's like I'm piggybacking off of successful couples. I drew in my personal journal (the one that NOBODY gets to see) the stick figures of my couples and myself, hovering just to the left of the two sticks holding hands. See, I've never been very good at keeping a romantic relationship going. A romantic, monogamous relationship is what I was trained for, bred to be a part of. But that's not where I ended up. I thankfully ended up in the queer community. I learned that it's okay to love more than one person at a time, and that love and a relationships don't have to be one right way for it to be a good one.

I have forced myself to like partners before, or agreed to be monogamous/trigamous when in my gut I felt that I was betraying myself. Eventually the relationship would end with me slowly withdrawing, not seeing how I was adding anything to the partnership, and abandon the friendship that was cultivated. That's a pretty shitty thing to do to someone, no matter which way I try to look at it. I still have a ways to go with making amends, except when doing so would injure them or others involved. It's a fine line to walk BUT...

Finally, I can stop torturing myself with what I don't want. Instead, I can torture myself with what I do want. Kink and polyamory gave that to me. 

Trains, Herbs, Trauma, & Strings

Sometimes I will zone out in conversations that I need to be dialed in to. 

My eyes will start to cross, I will yawn, my mind will wander to something that doesn’t have anything to do with the topic at hand. I think I’ve learned to stifle these issues enough to go unnoticed, except by me. I notice that I can’t keep things in my brain for a long time, unless its the most random bit of information, a string to follow to the source. Everything ends up working out, but it could be done faster if I found the giant yarn ball first instead of waiting for it to unravel before me. I believe substance abuse is behind this. My nightly ritual, a pipe full of Baphomet’s Broccoli, will need to be saved for special occasions. 

I hear trauma can also cause memory loss? Ask anyone and they will each give you an answer as to why you are the way that you are and what you can do to fix it. I try to live in the solution; figure out what works as soon as possible and move on. The problem doesn’t always go away or get fixed, but I learn how to adapt or make it easier. I’m very resourceful that way. You gotta be when you’re ridiculed for having needs. Anyway. 

Oh yeah I’ve been losing my train of thought a lot too! I’ll be having a great conversation with someone and I’ll be halfway through a story when I realize that the train has decided to take a [st]roll through the woods instead of staying on my albeit winding track. Then I ask my conversation partner to help me back it up; in a way it’s a good listening strategy? I need repetition repetition repetition to get things to stick in my brain. Trains, herbs, trauma, strings…all these things wrapped up into a big hairy ball of flesh I call home.

Alchemical Fire

 What’s stopping me from sewing? From painting? From writing? From reading? From swimming? From kayaking? From hiking? From worship? From ritual? 

Why can’t I get my brain to focus on one thing for longer than 5 minutes? 

I tell myself that I’m great at multitasking, but really I’m great at switching from one task to another, back and forth and so on. Why do I find myself reaching for creature comforts of a phone with little gay people in it, a rose toy with various speeds, and herbal refreshments? Is my dopamine response in my head so burnt out that I need quick hits every few minutes or else I start to get irritable? This is ringing a bell….addiction? Depression? Boredom? 

It can’t be that last one, surely…I have so many things to entertain myself with! And yet, I choose the little OLED rectangle instead of a rich plethora of other outlets. I know I am not the only 20-something that feels this way. I should be able to snap out of it, right? How about I transform my quick hits into slow strangles, hm? Why don’t I reach out to my friends and tell them about my crafts? Wouldn’t that be nice? I should find that creative fire and transform my moping about into something beautiful, or scary, or wicked, or sinful, or kind, shouldn’t I?

hmmmmmmmmmmm now that I review my blog posts I suspect there may be a path to burnout I am on or maybe possibly depression. I shall consult the oracle about this.

Edit: The oracle said I need therapy

Sir Pent

Curly Sue's wounds are healing. 

Her eyes are bright. The vet said that I did the best I could with what I had. Perhaps the same thing could be said for my parents. 

I have so much pent up rage! I can only slam my car doors and furiously go the speed limit and obey all traffic laws (but angrily) so much before I do something truly stupid. This morning, my head was full of killing thoughts. Of me. Of the worst of human kind. I want to kill those that want to kill others, I want to justify my murderousness. How many others try to justify their murderousness? I have a few outlets for this wrath: friends. chosen family. a meeting of strangers. punching things. drawing something covered in blood or dying. masturbating. Maybe that last one is a weird coping mechanism but I do get some release. I've never truly hate fucked someone, but I have beaten a few of my lovers (they begged for it dw). It's so easy to hate, it's much harder to love. But somehow I am overflowing with both, the waves of hate and love tumble into each other and crash against my brain's shore, dousing me with thoughts I don't know if I can swim through. I learned to swim early, I can find any body of water and think to myself, 'yeah, I can take that.' Years of butt tubing in the mountains prepared me for a rocky ride into serenity. I'm still tumbling down those rapids, hitting every flippin rock on the way down. 

Somehow I still manage to laugh it off, kiss the bruises left behind, patch up the scars from a slicing stone, and keep swimming. 

Rambles II

What do you get when you cross a sad over-critical sexually abused codependent alcoholic with an angry alexithymian sexually abused codependent alcoholic? Me <3

I am watching a video on LinkedIn Learning that suggests talking to my insecure parts and strategic parts and giving them new roles to make them better tools for being my whole self. The speaker brought up restructuring my body language and talking to my parts. Embrace your insecurities, be kind to yourself, and practice integrating your vulnerable feelings into your preparation. “Find your whole self’s posture, the thing you do with your body to remind you of your dignity and all of the best things about you.” Why would I talk about the best things about me? Isn’t that bragging, or conceited? My brain, just this morning, was telling me things: they love you but they don’t care for you. You are an insignificant speck in the vastness of the universe, you will die one day and nothing you do matters. They don’t love you like you love them. You ask for too much. You are greedy and selfish. You’re a bad friend, you never told them happy birthday, you never got them a birthday present. You’re an idiot, why can’t you remember anything useful? You annoy people, you are rude without knowing it. You are horny way too often you sexual degenerate. You never keep up with them. You’re disgusting, if they knew you’d be institutionalized. You deserve to die. You procrastinate everything until the last second. You should throw everything you own away, it’s just junk. All your friends have someone better in their lives, you don’t matter. Buy a gun. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. You have to pretend everything is okay and eventually it will be.

I’m struggling. I’m having the bad thoughts again. Why is it that when I am hungry or tired, everything is awful? Other days I walk in smiling at the beauty of the world. What is this anger trying to tell me? Why am I thinking of death when the day will be over soon enough? Why can’t I snap out of this fog? I need to stop smoking I’m sure that’ll fix all my problems. Other people aren’t this worried about messing up all the time. Well what if I get fired? Wouldn't be the first time. I’ll survive. But why am I borrowing worry for something that hasn’t happened, or might not happen? What use does this have? Why does my brain want to show me images of the worst case scenario, over and over and over and over? snap out of it snap out of it asnapt oout of it anspa out of it snap out ig it snap out of it snap put of it asnap toou og it snap out og it snap oout of it snap oaut of it snap out of it 

There’s a quote from Bob the Drag Queen, “…Everything works out in the end. If it’s not working out, it’s not the end.”

Thank god for drag queens.