Friday, April 29, 2005
Need to let off steam soon...
Yes, yes, we did rent a porn movie. And no, it didn't do much for me. The Fiancé, however, did. 12 times. Mwaha.
I dunno what's the deal, though. Regular man-fucks-woman porn doesn't seem to have any kind of effect on me anymore. Have I left the world of vanilla?
Anyway.
I really came here not to brag about my sheer endless ability to orgasm, but to talk about last night. Sorry. ;)
We played a gig at a local club, together with another band who's pretty much considered H.O.T. in the LA Spanish Rock scene right now. They are out and established, and have a big following. And we didn't like them... mostly for exactly these same reasons.Envy's a bitch.
That is, until we started talking and having fun with them last night.
To make a long story short: their lead singer is a girl. Not an overly attractive girl, but cute enough. Nothing special, really. I don't (didn't) consider myself attracted to her, but as we were all talking, she seemed to get all excited about talking with another female musician in the business (- and believe you me, her excitement is well founded: the LA Spanish Rock Scene is completely male dominated), and she was all smiles and friendly small talk with me. We connected over our heights... something that women below 5'10" will never understand. She happened to be exactly that - 5'10" - just like me... only I was wearing boots that make me about 6'2" tall.
She seemed to admire my "ovaries" to be up there with boots that make me even taller, especially since I am playing right next to someone who doesn't exceed 5'6" by much, with shoes, male and all. She wears nothing but flats on stage, and her overall appearance is hunched forward, with her head worn low between her shoulders.
I have issues with my height, but at least I don't do that.
Anyway. There seems to be this thing about girls our height - when we meet someone like us, we seem to immediately connect and swap stories about the horrible cross we have to bear, lol. With her hunched statue I couldn't quite believe that she was really as tall as me (- and with my boots on that made me pretty much tower over her), so off came my boots - and there she was... right at my eye level. Smiling at me and my height with big brown eyes.
That was the moment when someone decided to take a picture of us, so I put my arm around her and she put hers around me, almost cheek to cheek, posing for the picture... and that was the moment when some sort of electricity flash shot through me and I got all dizzy, feeling her female soft shapes against me, and just her overall female presence so close to me...
...and I am not even attracted to her!
Or at least I wasn't up until that point.
I am just not used to having a female person close to me even on harmless levels - simply because there are almost NO female friends in my life... so some random chick comes and poses with me for a simple foto, and I am all gushing and melting to the floor, overpowered by the sheer presence of WOMAN - whether I am really attracted to her or not.
Of course her friendly attitude and apparent happiness over another girl in another band didn't help this at all.
Way I see it, I am way too charged up with this "closeted" passion and... yes... need. Ever since I have decided to follow up on my latent bisexuality (pretty much ever since I started this blog), the pressure has become higher and higher, and as of yet there has not been an outlet valve to relieve some of it. Only more and more cute girls to tantalize me, who I don't know how to approach, or don't even know if it would be proper to.
Scared to death as I am about this Sunday's L-Word meeting, I think I have resolved to going. I have to change my approach towards things, I have to be proactive. It's not like Jo or any cute derivation thereof will just come knock on my door one day and sweep me off my feet. I have to be out there, and get involved. And Sunday, if nothing else, will be a start in that direction.
I dunno what's the deal, though. Regular man-fucks-woman porn doesn't seem to have any kind of effect on me anymore. Have I left the world of vanilla?
Anyway.
I really came here not to brag about my sheer endless ability to orgasm, but to talk about last night. Sorry. ;)
We played a gig at a local club, together with another band who's pretty much considered H.O.T. in the LA Spanish Rock scene right now. They are out and established, and have a big following. And we didn't like them... mostly for exactly these same reasons.
That is, until we started talking and having fun with them last night.
To make a long story short: their lead singer is a girl. Not an overly attractive girl, but cute enough. Nothing special, really. I don't (didn't) consider myself attracted to her, but as we were all talking, she seemed to get all excited about talking with another female musician in the business (- and believe you me, her excitement is well founded: the LA Spanish Rock Scene is completely male dominated), and she was all smiles and friendly small talk with me. We connected over our heights... something that women below 5'10" will never understand. She happened to be exactly that - 5'10" - just like me... only I was wearing boots that make me about 6'2" tall.
She seemed to admire my "ovaries" to be up there with boots that make me even taller, especially since I am playing right next to someone who doesn't exceed 5'6" by much, with shoes, male and all. She wears nothing but flats on stage, and her overall appearance is hunched forward, with her head worn low between her shoulders.
I have issues with my height, but at least I don't do that.
Anyway. There seems to be this thing about girls our height - when we meet someone like us, we seem to immediately connect and swap stories about the horrible cross we have to bear, lol. With her hunched statue I couldn't quite believe that she was really as tall as me (- and with my boots on that made me pretty much tower over her), so off came my boots - and there she was... right at my eye level. Smiling at me and my height with big brown eyes.
That was the moment when someone decided to take a picture of us, so I put my arm around her and she put hers around me, almost cheek to cheek, posing for the picture... and that was the moment when some sort of electricity flash shot through me and I got all dizzy, feeling her female soft shapes against me, and just her overall female presence so close to me...
...and I am not even attracted to her!
Or at least I wasn't up until that point.
I am just not used to having a female person close to me even on harmless levels - simply because there are almost NO female friends in my life... so some random chick comes and poses with me for a simple foto, and I am all gushing and melting to the floor, overpowered by the sheer presence of WOMAN - whether I am really attracted to her or not.
Of course her friendly attitude and apparent happiness over another girl in another band didn't help this at all.
Way I see it, I am way too charged up with this "closeted" passion and... yes... need. Ever since I have decided to follow up on my latent bisexuality (pretty much ever since I started this blog), the pressure has become higher and higher, and as of yet there has not been an outlet valve to relieve some of it. Only more and more cute girls to tantalize me, who I don't know how to approach, or don't even know if it would be proper to.
Scared to death as I am about this Sunday's L-Word meeting, I think I have resolved to going. I have to change my approach towards things, I have to be proactive. It's not like Jo or any cute derivation thereof will just come knock on my door one day and sweep me off my feet. I have to be out there, and get involved. And Sunday, if nothing else, will be a start in that direction.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Progress!
On all fronts, I might say. Today is a good day, I am feeling a lot better.
Combine the Fiancé's silly grin with mine, with my inability to walk without wincing, with his question of: "Are you making up by giving me sex?", and you'll have a pretty good picture of what's going on today. And last night. And probally some more tonight.
He's looking at me with a spark in his eyes again, he's playfully touching me, and he's giving me little kisses and tender headrubs out of nowhere. He intercepts my way to hug me. He interrupts his work to walk all the way into my office to stick his tongue down my throat.
I smile today, and I think I adore him and his ability to move things behind him and to move on and to forgive more than ever. I enjoyed sex so much last night and today, that I ended up asking him for it and initiating it a few more times, much to the Fiancé's surprise.
I never ask for it, usually, because he already is more than any sane woman could handle on a daily basis even without me having to ask.
In the car on the way to school he just sat there with his own hand resting slightly between his legs, grinning and sighing at the same time.
It was adorable and it filled my heart to the rim. Maybe I'll rape him in the car right here on the campus parking lot, making use of our tinted windows. Or maybe I'll drag him into the closest restroom. Or maybe I'll just tell him how much I love him, and how I cannot ever see myself without him, no matter if we fight or not.
Things are not totally okay yet, but I feel like we left the lowest lows and are well in the middle of an upswing again.
And so is my bi-life. Today I have received an evite to a "L-Word" party this upcoming Sunday by the girl I was talking about yesterday. From what I understand it is basically a bunch of girls meeting to watch TV and then to eat, drink, hang out, flirt. Or something.
I have a show to play at the Pasadena Rosebowl that same day, but if I am not mistaken the show takes place sometime around noon or the early afternoon, and if that is the case, I could start working on my socializing phobias and issues, and actually show up and meet likeminded people in the evening. It's not too far either, in Hollywood.
The Fiancé got excited when I told him about it. How much more depressed and suicidal would I be, would he not be so understanding and supportive of this side of me?
Maybe we should rent some gay porn tonight. And "normal" porn, too. I think he would like that after a whole day of working and stressing over his algebra test today. There are few things more positively mind-numbing and distracting from problems than a good ol' porn flick, shared in the privacy of our bedroom. :)
Combine the Fiancé's silly grin with mine, with my inability to walk without wincing, with his question of: "Are you making up by giving me sex?", and you'll have a pretty good picture of what's going on today. And last night. And probally some more tonight.
He's looking at me with a spark in his eyes again, he's playfully touching me, and he's giving me little kisses and tender headrubs out of nowhere. He intercepts my way to hug me. He interrupts his work to walk all the way into my office to stick his tongue down my throat.
I smile today, and I think I adore him and his ability to move things behind him and to move on and to forgive more than ever. I enjoyed sex so much last night and today, that I ended up asking him for it and initiating it a few more times, much to the Fiancé's surprise.
I never ask for it, usually, because he already is more than any sane woman could handle on a daily basis even without me having to ask.
In the car on the way to school he just sat there with his own hand resting slightly between his legs, grinning and sighing at the same time.
It was adorable and it filled my heart to the rim. Maybe I'll rape him in the car right here on the campus parking lot, making use of our tinted windows. Or maybe I'll drag him into the closest restroom. Or maybe I'll just tell him how much I love him, and how I cannot ever see myself without him, no matter if we fight or not.
Things are not totally okay yet, but I feel like we left the lowest lows and are well in the middle of an upswing again.
And so is my bi-life. Today I have received an evite to a "L-Word" party this upcoming Sunday by the girl I was talking about yesterday. From what I understand it is basically a bunch of girls meeting to watch TV and then to eat, drink, hang out, flirt. Or something.
I have a show to play at the Pasadena Rosebowl that same day, but if I am not mistaken the show takes place sometime around noon or the early afternoon, and if that is the case, I could start working on my socializing phobias and issues, and actually show up and meet likeminded people in the evening. It's not too far either, in Hollywood.
The Fiancé got excited when I told him about it. How much more depressed and suicidal would I be, would he not be so understanding and supportive of this side of me?
Maybe we should rent some gay porn tonight. And "normal" porn, too. I think he would like that after a whole day of working and stressing over his algebra test today. There are few things more positively mind-numbing and distracting from problems than a good ol' porn flick, shared in the privacy of our bedroom. :)
Monday, April 25, 2005
Feeling better
As good as it gets, anyway.
Thank you for the one comment I got to my last pathetic entry, and in response to that I would like to say that yes, The Fiancé is indeed very good for me. Something I cannot appreciate when I take my moods to such extremes. He is very loving and supportive, but most of all he is very forgiving. I can tell that he is still hurting from what I did to him, but at the same time he is also trying to move on, and get this behind us. It's not easy though, and he doesn't succeed in "getting over it" all the time, which I completely understand. He tries to be close to me and understanding, but all of a sudden there is a cleft inbetween us, and I feel lonlier than I ever did before. I know that he is trying, but something has changed. Something is different, and I don't quite know how or if it is fixable. Mostly because I know that if I don't get help, it will happen again. And every time it does, it gets worse. He doesn't trust me with his emotions anymore, he keeps me at an arm's length away from him. He now does the same thing to me that I am doing to him.
He's trying not to push me away even though I can see that he feels like doing just that. He knows how emotionally instable I currently am, and tries to work around it. I try to accomodate to his every need, and I try not to say anything he could misinterpret as "attitude" or "nagging", but I know this doesn't work so well either. He said he'll make an appointment for me with the campus counsellor. Deep inside of me I hope that he won't, because I am so embarrassed and unwilling to talk with anybody about this. He also said both him and I should pick up martial arts classes. For the discipline and the control, and the outlet it would provide. I think I gave him attitude about it. I don't wanna do that either. But I guess in one way or another I will have to give in to what he says, to what he wants, to show him that I am serious. I love him very much, and I will do whatever it takes to stay with me. Even if it means martial arts.
We made love yesterday... no... we fucked yesterday. I know it was probably meant to be lovemaking, but it felt more like him working off his aggressions and frustrations on me. Which was fine... he took care of me in the end, but instead of loved I felt used and dirty afterwards. Now I feel submissive to him in every situation of life, when in reality I am the least submissive person you'd ever meet. I don't take well to authority, yet right now I jump at his every word with my proverbial tail pinched between my legs. I move around like on eggshells, aiming to please, scared I would offend or upset him in any way. I take his current negative moods and his attitude towards me with my head low between my shoulders, when usually I get defiant and hit him right back with a load of crap because "I won't take anybody talking down at me like they are something else".
I feel on the verge of tears now most of the time.
Yet I call this "feeling better" because I don't have the urge to slash my arms with those damn scissors anymore.
Life goes on, however, and to bring this blog back to a more up-beat mood, I am hereby reporting slight progress on the bi front. I have received responses from two very cute local bi girls via grrl2grrl.com, one of which hosts regular meetings for local bi girls to socialize with each other. Stuff like meeting in Hollywood and watching the L-Word together. That's the example she brought up, anyway. She said she'll keep me posted, and she'll make me feel comfortable enough to interact with the others. Whatever that means for a sociophobe like me... but I still look at it as a very positive thing that I am scared of, yet look forward to.
The Fiancé told me to look for an "outlet" for my negative feelings, anger and issues. I am thinking not so much along the lines of karate or kickboxing or talking to a complete stranger about my problems, but more along the lines of getting my inside balanced out, fulfilling both parts of me that yearn for satisfaction. I feel that if I can be who I know I truly am, if I can find my place in this world where I know I belong knowing that I will not be judged or looked down on, or even be rejected for it... if I can do that, then I think I will be a lot more balanced inside, and a lot more at peace with myself. A Yin for every Yang... and right now I am exclusively Yang...
Thank you for the one comment I got to my last pathetic entry, and in response to that I would like to say that yes, The Fiancé is indeed very good for me. Something I cannot appreciate when I take my moods to such extremes. He is very loving and supportive, but most of all he is very forgiving. I can tell that he is still hurting from what I did to him, but at the same time he is also trying to move on, and get this behind us. It's not easy though, and he doesn't succeed in "getting over it" all the time, which I completely understand. He tries to be close to me and understanding, but all of a sudden there is a cleft inbetween us, and I feel lonlier than I ever did before. I know that he is trying, but something has changed. Something is different, and I don't quite know how or if it is fixable. Mostly because I know that if I don't get help, it will happen again. And every time it does, it gets worse. He doesn't trust me with his emotions anymore, he keeps me at an arm's length away from him. He now does the same thing to me that I am doing to him.
He's trying not to push me away even though I can see that he feels like doing just that. He knows how emotionally instable I currently am, and tries to work around it. I try to accomodate to his every need, and I try not to say anything he could misinterpret as "attitude" or "nagging", but I know this doesn't work so well either. He said he'll make an appointment for me with the campus counsellor. Deep inside of me I hope that he won't, because I am so embarrassed and unwilling to talk with anybody about this. He also said both him and I should pick up martial arts classes. For the discipline and the control, and the outlet it would provide. I think I gave him attitude about it. I don't wanna do that either. But I guess in one way or another I will have to give in to what he says, to what he wants, to show him that I am serious. I love him very much, and I will do whatever it takes to stay with me. Even if it means martial arts.
We made love yesterday... no... we fucked yesterday. I know it was probably meant to be lovemaking, but it felt more like him working off his aggressions and frustrations on me. Which was fine... he took care of me in the end, but instead of loved I felt used and dirty afterwards. Now I feel submissive to him in every situation of life, when in reality I am the least submissive person you'd ever meet. I don't take well to authority, yet right now I jump at his every word with my proverbial tail pinched between my legs. I move around like on eggshells, aiming to please, scared I would offend or upset him in any way. I take his current negative moods and his attitude towards me with my head low between my shoulders, when usually I get defiant and hit him right back with a load of crap because "I won't take anybody talking down at me like they are something else".
I feel on the verge of tears now most of the time.
Yet I call this "feeling better" because I don't have the urge to slash my arms with those damn scissors anymore.
Life goes on, however, and to bring this blog back to a more up-beat mood, I am hereby reporting slight progress on the bi front. I have received responses from two very cute local bi girls via grrl2grrl.com, one of which hosts regular meetings for local bi girls to socialize with each other. Stuff like meeting in Hollywood and watching the L-Word together. That's the example she brought up, anyway. She said she'll keep me posted, and she'll make me feel comfortable enough to interact with the others. Whatever that means for a sociophobe like me... but I still look at it as a very positive thing that I am scared of, yet look forward to.
The Fiancé told me to look for an "outlet" for my negative feelings, anger and issues. I am thinking not so much along the lines of karate or kickboxing or talking to a complete stranger about my problems, but more along the lines of getting my inside balanced out, fulfilling both parts of me that yearn for satisfaction. I feel that if I can be who I know I truly am, if I can find my place in this world where I know I belong knowing that I will not be judged or looked down on, or even be rejected for it... if I can do that, then I think I will be a lot more balanced inside, and a lot more at peace with myself. A Yin for every Yang... and right now I am exclusively Yang...
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Facing the Demons
I have put this post off way too long now. Not just this post, really, but the truth of the matter.
The truth of the matter that I am sick. That I need help. That if I don't get it, and don't get it soon, I will snap, and when that happens, there is no one I am more afraid of than myself.
Is it too personal to post here? You bet. But I made the decision to still do it, because typing it and sharing it forces me to face it. It makes it impossible to run away from it anymore, or to hide it away somewhere inside of me, where no one can see it, or know that it even exists, and where it has been cooking in its own steam ever since... well, I think ever since I can remember.
But it is out now, and it took more than it ever should have taken to come to the surface. The sacrifice is too big, I almost lost the man I love more than anything in this world over it.
Well, he didn't go, but he is not making it easy for me, either. Which he has the right to. And at the same time, I need to do something about it, whether it makes me feel comfortable or not. Whether I can handle it or not. Because it is safe to say that if I don't do it now, there might not be a later for me.
Big, scary secret? Oh, Internet, I bet you can't wait to hear it, and then laugh at me and call me a drama queen, and tell me how much I am exaggerating, and how many people in this world have it worse than me. Just suck it up and move on, you would say, and barking dogs don't bite. And really, I could almost say you would be justified with this, for I am pathetic.
Let's give a name to the monster, shall we.
Yeah, let's. Let's see how it looks like out of my mind, and put into words, words that anybody can read.
I am suicidal.
There. Spelled out it looks much funnier and much more harmless than it probably really is. It almost makes me laugh at myself.
Ha ha ha.
The thought that the world would be better off without me has manifested itself inside my brain a long time ago, a very long time ago, and has never really left me since. Sometimes it was stronger, sometimes it was more like a tolerable light pulsating in a sore tooth, but it has been there. It is there. It is always with me. Feelings of worthlessness, ugliness, and vague sensation that I should have never been born, that I shouldn't have the right to live at all. That nobody should have to put up with me, and should have to look at me. I have been rejected and ridiculed by people ever since I can remember. For all my life. I was always the one being laughed at, being made fun of, being excluded from every social activity, unless it involved the other outcasts as well.
I had little chants involving my name and several creative insults been made up in my honor.
They still haunt me today, 20 fucking years later.
I was shunned, laughed at, talked about behind my back just so that I would be aware of it, pushed around. I had many a finger pointed at me, laughter following me. In my volleyball team I had balls smashed at me with the sole intention to hurt me.
I was always too ugly, too poor, too tall, too shy, too pimply, too uncool for almost everybody, and everything.
Every teenager has her cross to bear, you might say. It's in the past, you might say. Don't let the past affect you, and enjoy who and what you are today, you might even say. You would sound like The Fiance, and you would even be right.
Only what I am today is a result of all of that, and it is not an ounce better than it was. Only now I am an adult, able to play it cool, able to let it bounce off of me, able to swallow it down, ignore it. I can sufficiently hide the fact that I am completely socially dysfunctional. I can play it over with superficial relationships, and pretending. I am able to paint a colorful picture of myself that is acceptable to people, that allows people around me accept what they see, but which has nothing to do with what is inside of me. What people see when I am performing on stage, what people see when I am laughing and joking, what people see when it looks like I am having fun, all that is a fassade. It's controlled facial musculature, and I am very skilled at using it.
What I really am is lonely. It's me, myself, and I in the company of my own mind. Untrusting. Building walls between me and people, even those people who I love most. Being scared to death of rejection, yet causing it with well calculated attitude and harshness that keeps people at least an arm's length away from me. Starving for love and attention, yet rejecting it and stomping it into the ground when I receive it. Hurting others with all my might, before anyone gets a chance at hurting me. Wanting nothing more than to love unconditionally, yet finding a lot more comfort in hurting people. Their hurt feeds me, sustains me, makes me feel better about myself. Makes me feel superior in a world where I am inferior or non-existant to everybody. It's my power fix, it's what is so much easier for me than to love.
It causes me to lose people. It causes people to draw away from me. It causes people to get angry with me.
Which in turn makes me lonlier and lonlier. It bottles up, it becomes unbearable. It is slowly killing me inside.
Which brings me back to the problem. I have no outlet, I have nobody to lean on, even though someone so willing to help and make it better is offering himself for just that, right in front of me. He's there, arms wide open, begging me to open up to him, yet the more he does it, the more I push him away. I trust him with my life, yet I don't trust him with my emotions. I don't trust him to be able to hold the weight that's inside of me. I'm slipping away from him the more he wants to help me, and it took for him to almost leave me for me to finally crumble in his presence. The words that came out of me when I could finally speak again, between hysterical sobs and violent banging of my head against the wall, which he had to interject with his hand for me not to really injure myself were "I need help. I need someone to help me."
It was the most desperate thing I ever heard coming out of my own mouth.
And it's true. I am scared of myself. There is not one day that passes without me imagining myself in various positions of self-inflicted death, people finding me. Dangling off my bathing-robe belt. With slit open wrists in a sea of blood on the bathroom floor. In bed, as if I were just asleep, the leftover pills scattered all around me. I fantasize about running the car into the oncoming traffic when I am driving. Whenever I am driving. I think about crossing streets at red lights. I think about accidentally falling off a bridge with a brick tied to my ankles. I fantasize about how it would be like to drown, to suffocate, to freeze to death. I contemplate which would be the easiest and most painless way to go.
Every.fucking.day.of.my.life.
I don't even remember it having been any other way anymore. I don't remember when it was the last time that I pictured myself alive and happy. I dream about death. I dream about being executed by a court of law. I dream about killing people. That's almost all I ever dream about.
And I cut my arms with scissors, when the pain inside gets too much.
Yet I have not ever seriously attempted anything. What's holding me back is my immense fear of pain. That, and the thought of how it would inconvenience others to find me dead, and how much I would hurt my family. It's a guilt trip that I am afraid would follow me into death and beyond. This guilt trip is what keeps me sane enough to not go any further than to make myself bleed with scissors.
But I feel it is getting worse. During last night's argument I came up with about 20 different creative ways of putting and end to all this. And it scared the living hell out of me. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to think about death anymore, I don't want to drag people down anymore. I want to be a happy normal person who can look at herself in the mirror without feeling disgust and pain, and who can be easy around people, and loving to the one person she loves more than anything in this world. I want the darkness to leave my head - because frankly: I have no reason in my life and the way it is right now to feel this way in the first place.
But that's the thing with logic vs. emotion... your head my know, but your heart refuses to believe.
I need help, because I am scared that maybe one day I won't care about making other people feel bad anymore, and that maybe one day pain won't phase me anymore either. When that happens, I will be my biggest enemy, and I am very scared of myself, and the deep dark clefts that are in my mind, and what's in there. Right now I am occasionally finding a valve, and when I open it it's like I unleash God's seven plagues onto one single person - the one person I love most - and when that happens, I can't find the off-button anymore. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt, I lash out, stoop on a level that under normal circumstances I wouldn't even think exists in my mind, and I will only stop when I see him completely smashed and shattered on the floor, ready to leave me. That's when the pressure in my head finally becomes bearable again, and I can return to function halfway normally, until that pressure is there again someday in the future, and I do it all over again.
Only - I don't know if the next time this happens he will be there to listen to it anymore. And that's what scares me almost more than the pain, and what I could do to myself.
And there is no way I can control this... if I could, I wouldn't have done it for a second time , and most certainly not for the third last night. I need help not to let the pressure build up like that in the first place, because once it releases, there is no way for me to stop it. I violently knock out that little pleading voice inside of me that tells me to stop, and to let go, and that I am making things a lot worse. That little voice that tells me that I am hurting the person I love most more than anyone ever could... because one thing I have to give to myself: my mouth is my biggest weapon. Once unleashed, I know exactly where to stab and turn the dagger around and around, I know where it hurts the most, and I am very skilled at hitting these spots over and over and over again.
I am tired of it. I am tired of myself. I am tired of wanting to be invisible, wanting to be gone. I am tired of watching the scratch marks heal on my arms. I am tired of waking up every morning, cursing god for not stopping my heart beat during the night, as I pray for night after night after night. I am not religious, I don't even believe in god - but this is what I still pray for.
There is "crisis counseling" availabe at the Health Center on campus. As far as I know it's a free service to enrolled students. The Fiancé has made it quite clear to me that he wants me to see a therapist now, or else. I understand. I should see one. But the thought of that just makes me feel even more of a failure, and I am very embarrassed by the mere imagination of telling my problems to a complete strangers whose interest in me doesn't go beyond the paycheck he or she will receive at the end of the month. But I do need help. And I need it NOW. Admitting is the first step on the road to recovery. I want to be able to see myself as an old and happy person again in my mind. I want that possibility to be open in my mind again. And most of all I want to stop hurting - myself, and the person I love more in this world than anybody else...
I am not sure how frequently I will post here or on my other blog anymore in the near future. There are many things that I need to sort out, and many things that I need to start to repair. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who care.
The truth of the matter that I am sick. That I need help. That if I don't get it, and don't get it soon, I will snap, and when that happens, there is no one I am more afraid of than myself.
Is it too personal to post here? You bet. But I made the decision to still do it, because typing it and sharing it forces me to face it. It makes it impossible to run away from it anymore, or to hide it away somewhere inside of me, where no one can see it, or know that it even exists, and where it has been cooking in its own steam ever since... well, I think ever since I can remember.
But it is out now, and it took more than it ever should have taken to come to the surface. The sacrifice is too big, I almost lost the man I love more than anything in this world over it.
Well, he didn't go, but he is not making it easy for me, either. Which he has the right to. And at the same time, I need to do something about it, whether it makes me feel comfortable or not. Whether I can handle it or not. Because it is safe to say that if I don't do it now, there might not be a later for me.
Big, scary secret? Oh, Internet, I bet you can't wait to hear it, and then laugh at me and call me a drama queen, and tell me how much I am exaggerating, and how many people in this world have it worse than me. Just suck it up and move on, you would say, and barking dogs don't bite. And really, I could almost say you would be justified with this, for I am pathetic.
Let's give a name to the monster, shall we.
Yeah, let's. Let's see how it looks like out of my mind, and put into words, words that anybody can read.
I am suicidal.
There. Spelled out it looks much funnier and much more harmless than it probably really is. It almost makes me laugh at myself.
Ha ha ha.
The thought that the world would be better off without me has manifested itself inside my brain a long time ago, a very long time ago, and has never really left me since. Sometimes it was stronger, sometimes it was more like a tolerable light pulsating in a sore tooth, but it has been there. It is there. It is always with me. Feelings of worthlessness, ugliness, and vague sensation that I should have never been born, that I shouldn't have the right to live at all. That nobody should have to put up with me, and should have to look at me. I have been rejected and ridiculed by people ever since I can remember. For all my life. I was always the one being laughed at, being made fun of, being excluded from every social activity, unless it involved the other outcasts as well.
I had little chants involving my name and several creative insults been made up in my honor.
They still haunt me today, 20 fucking years later.
I was shunned, laughed at, talked about behind my back just so that I would be aware of it, pushed around. I had many a finger pointed at me, laughter following me. In my volleyball team I had balls smashed at me with the sole intention to hurt me.
I was always too ugly, too poor, too tall, too shy, too pimply, too uncool for almost everybody, and everything.
Every teenager has her cross to bear, you might say. It's in the past, you might say. Don't let the past affect you, and enjoy who and what you are today, you might even say. You would sound like The Fiance, and you would even be right.
Only what I am today is a result of all of that, and it is not an ounce better than it was. Only now I am an adult, able to play it cool, able to let it bounce off of me, able to swallow it down, ignore it. I can sufficiently hide the fact that I am completely socially dysfunctional. I can play it over with superficial relationships, and pretending. I am able to paint a colorful picture of myself that is acceptable to people, that allows people around me accept what they see, but which has nothing to do with what is inside of me. What people see when I am performing on stage, what people see when I am laughing and joking, what people see when it looks like I am having fun, all that is a fassade. It's controlled facial musculature, and I am very skilled at using it.
What I really am is lonely. It's me, myself, and I in the company of my own mind. Untrusting. Building walls between me and people, even those people who I love most. Being scared to death of rejection, yet causing it with well calculated attitude and harshness that keeps people at least an arm's length away from me. Starving for love and attention, yet rejecting it and stomping it into the ground when I receive it. Hurting others with all my might, before anyone gets a chance at hurting me. Wanting nothing more than to love unconditionally, yet finding a lot more comfort in hurting people. Their hurt feeds me, sustains me, makes me feel better about myself. Makes me feel superior in a world where I am inferior or non-existant to everybody. It's my power fix, it's what is so much easier for me than to love.
It causes me to lose people. It causes people to draw away from me. It causes people to get angry with me.
Which in turn makes me lonlier and lonlier. It bottles up, it becomes unbearable. It is slowly killing me inside.
Which brings me back to the problem. I have no outlet, I have nobody to lean on, even though someone so willing to help and make it better is offering himself for just that, right in front of me. He's there, arms wide open, begging me to open up to him, yet the more he does it, the more I push him away. I trust him with my life, yet I don't trust him with my emotions. I don't trust him to be able to hold the weight that's inside of me. I'm slipping away from him the more he wants to help me, and it took for him to almost leave me for me to finally crumble in his presence. The words that came out of me when I could finally speak again, between hysterical sobs and violent banging of my head against the wall, which he had to interject with his hand for me not to really injure myself were "I need help. I need someone to help me."
It was the most desperate thing I ever heard coming out of my own mouth.
And it's true. I am scared of myself. There is not one day that passes without me imagining myself in various positions of self-inflicted death, people finding me. Dangling off my bathing-robe belt. With slit open wrists in a sea of blood on the bathroom floor. In bed, as if I were just asleep, the leftover pills scattered all around me. I fantasize about running the car into the oncoming traffic when I am driving. Whenever I am driving. I think about crossing streets at red lights. I think about accidentally falling off a bridge with a brick tied to my ankles. I fantasize about how it would be like to drown, to suffocate, to freeze to death. I contemplate which would be the easiest and most painless way to go.
Every.fucking.day.of.my.life.
I don't even remember it having been any other way anymore. I don't remember when it was the last time that I pictured myself alive and happy. I dream about death. I dream about being executed by a court of law. I dream about killing people. That's almost all I ever dream about.
And I cut my arms with scissors, when the pain inside gets too much.
Yet I have not ever seriously attempted anything. What's holding me back is my immense fear of pain. That, and the thought of how it would inconvenience others to find me dead, and how much I would hurt my family. It's a guilt trip that I am afraid would follow me into death and beyond. This guilt trip is what keeps me sane enough to not go any further than to make myself bleed with scissors.
But I feel it is getting worse. During last night's argument I came up with about 20 different creative ways of putting and end to all this. And it scared the living hell out of me. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to think about death anymore, I don't want to drag people down anymore. I want to be a happy normal person who can look at herself in the mirror without feeling disgust and pain, and who can be easy around people, and loving to the one person she loves more than anything in this world. I want the darkness to leave my head - because frankly: I have no reason in my life and the way it is right now to feel this way in the first place.
But that's the thing with logic vs. emotion... your head my know, but your heart refuses to believe.
I need help, because I am scared that maybe one day I won't care about making other people feel bad anymore, and that maybe one day pain won't phase me anymore either. When that happens, I will be my biggest enemy, and I am very scared of myself, and the deep dark clefts that are in my mind, and what's in there. Right now I am occasionally finding a valve, and when I open it it's like I unleash God's seven plagues onto one single person - the one person I love most - and when that happens, I can't find the off-button anymore. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt, I lash out, stoop on a level that under normal circumstances I wouldn't even think exists in my mind, and I will only stop when I see him completely smashed and shattered on the floor, ready to leave me. That's when the pressure in my head finally becomes bearable again, and I can return to function halfway normally, until that pressure is there again someday in the future, and I do it all over again.
Only - I don't know if the next time this happens he will be there to listen to it anymore. And that's what scares me almost more than the pain, and what I could do to myself.
And there is no way I can control this... if I could, I wouldn't have done it for a second time , and most certainly not for the third last night. I need help not to let the pressure build up like that in the first place, because once it releases, there is no way for me to stop it. I violently knock out that little pleading voice inside of me that tells me to stop, and to let go, and that I am making things a lot worse. That little voice that tells me that I am hurting the person I love most more than anyone ever could... because one thing I have to give to myself: my mouth is my biggest weapon. Once unleashed, I know exactly where to stab and turn the dagger around and around, I know where it hurts the most, and I am very skilled at hitting these spots over and over and over again.
I am tired of it. I am tired of myself. I am tired of wanting to be invisible, wanting to be gone. I am tired of watching the scratch marks heal on my arms. I am tired of waking up every morning, cursing god for not stopping my heart beat during the night, as I pray for night after night after night. I am not religious, I don't even believe in god - but this is what I still pray for.
There is "crisis counseling" availabe at the Health Center on campus. As far as I know it's a free service to enrolled students. The Fiancé has made it quite clear to me that he wants me to see a therapist now, or else. I understand. I should see one. But the thought of that just makes me feel even more of a failure, and I am very embarrassed by the mere imagination of telling my problems to a complete strangers whose interest in me doesn't go beyond the paycheck he or she will receive at the end of the month. But I do need help. And I need it NOW. Admitting is the first step on the road to recovery. I want to be able to see myself as an old and happy person again in my mind. I want that possibility to be open in my mind again. And most of all I want to stop hurting - myself, and the person I love more in this world than anybody else...
I am not sure how frequently I will post here or on my other blog anymore in the near future. There are many things that I need to sort out, and many things that I need to start to repair. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who care.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Rant...
My cousin had her appointment for her abortion scheduled last night 1am. I was going to blog about it last night, I had this whole long thing thought out about that innocent life that will now never be because of someone's utter stupid responsibility. I was really fired up to do it too, since I read two different entries on other blogs about abortion and "saying goodbye early" (as they call it) when the baby is diagnosed sick prenatally. I ranted my heart out about my cousin to the poor Fiancé in the car, stuck in traffic, for a good half hour without as much as taking a breath inbetween. Good came out of it though - I realized him and I are very much on the same page when it comes to this issue.
So I had my first sentence typed in here... when I got side tracked with band practice - and pizza. Then it was too late. And today all I can really focus on is how goddamn PISSED I am at The Fiancé, that I can't really think of much else besides that.
All I can see aside from pulsating blood red in the corner of my eyes is that I am running myself ragged to accomodate to him, completely disregarding my own time and my own needs on a daily basis, to enable him to work with his schedule. I drive him to work, to school, to his second job, to business meetings, to the printer he works with, to any other goddamn thing that's on his daily agenda. I sit through boring business meetings with him, I wait in the car on the street for however long it takes him to take care of whatever he has to take care of, I am stuck in traffic for hours on our ways, I get under a lot of pressure with my own work because I don't have enough time to finish it all, and I completely neglect school over all of this, because a day only has so many hours. I don't get enough sleep... not enough for me to function properly anyways, and more than on occasion I have caught myself falling asleep at the steering wheel and catching myself before I cause an accident. I mass-produce graphics in the few hours I have at home, and ask for more and more, because we don't have enough money to pay all our bills and debts, and two HUGE payments are coming up rapidly that I don't know how to come up with the money for, unless a miracle's going to happen. I lobby to get some web work under my wings, because it pays good, not because I enjoy doing it. Matter of fact, I have come to HATE doing web work for clients, but I don't complain. I ask for more work. And even more, because I want to make some extra money so I can buy The Fiancé's parents plane tickets so they can come to their son's graduation in June, and because I know how much it gets him down knowing that they cannot afford the trip on their own. Heck, right now I am even making more money than him, and still it's not enough. It's never enough. But it has to be done. All of this. And I do it. And I don't usually complain about it. Why? Because I fucking LOVE him, and that's what people who love each other do for each other. I don't question any of this, I just go ahead and accomodate as well as I can.
Fuck this, I am so happy everytime I get to see him... walking out of his class to where I am waiting in the car, or coming from work... so happy that I don't even question all the time I spend on the road for him, that I cannot spend at home working off the pile of work that's there waiting for me.
Today? Today I need for myself. Today I need for homework, stuff that's due in class tonight. I need more time for it than I have available, yet I will STILL drive around to pick him up from school and get him to work and then get myself back to school, etc.
He said: "I need to drop off this, this, and that here, here and there."
I said: "Umm... but I cannot do this today, I need to get my homework done, and I need to get to the office on campus to drop of my application for work permit..."
From there on the shit just hit the fan, and things I heard up until now included statements such as "I don't want to deal with your bullshit", "you fucked up majorly with me", "you should have done your homework sooner, I see you all this time just playing online", and in response to "I want you to acknowledge that I am doing everything I can and more than that to accomodate to you and our situation" I heard: "you are doing so little, you used to do more".
And I was walked out on twice.
I will not give in to his attempts of making me the evil one here who caused all this, and I will not accept the guilt trip he is trying to put on me. I am about to snap under all this pressure that I never talk about, and when for once I stand up for myself and ask for a "day off" not because I am lazy, but because I don't want to fail my class, I get a whole load of horseshit flung into my face.
Living with three male roomates I have heard and learned a lot about how males function and strive on appreciation. A.P.P.R.E.C.I.A.T.I.O.N.
What about the way females function? Does anyone give a rat's ass about that? It's not like I am asking for outrageous"Please tell me ahead of time about the places we have to go, so I can work around that with my own schedule, and am not surprised if all of a sudden I find myself on the road for 4 hours when I really thought I'm just picking you up somewhere...". I'm not even asking to be asked stuff like "Do you mind?", or "Do you have time?" No... not at all. But is being respected and being appreciated really so much to ask for?
I just don't want to be taken for granted, even though the things I do I do out of love and without expecting to be "paid back" in any way. I don't want for my time to be taken for granted, and I don't want to deal with attitude when I NEED to spend some time on me, myself, and I alone, even if it inconveniences someone else. I don't usually inconvenience other people. I usually accomodate to everybody else's needs. I am not selfish, I aim to please... but the second it is impossible for me to do so for whatever reason, I am the bitch. I am selfish. I am "impossible".
I get attitude, and I am being told I am the one who gives attitude and is impossible to deal with.
I want someone to work with ME for a change, to work around MY schedule for a change... and I want to feel like I can be a "let down" every once in a while and that it's not going to be the end of the world, and I have to defend myself and my needs with bared teeth and claws just get my point across...
Speaking of world... fuck, I feel like I am carrying the whole entirety of it on my shoulders right now... :(
Why do I feel like I am supposed to apologize...? things such as
So I had my first sentence typed in here... when I got side tracked with band practice - and pizza. Then it was too late. And today all I can really focus on is how goddamn PISSED I am at The Fiancé, that I can't really think of much else besides that.
All I can see aside from pulsating blood red in the corner of my eyes is that I am running myself ragged to accomodate to him, completely disregarding my own time and my own needs on a daily basis, to enable him to work with his schedule. I drive him to work, to school, to his second job, to business meetings, to the printer he works with, to any other goddamn thing that's on his daily agenda. I sit through boring business meetings with him, I wait in the car on the street for however long it takes him to take care of whatever he has to take care of, I am stuck in traffic for hours on our ways, I get under a lot of pressure with my own work because I don't have enough time to finish it all, and I completely neglect school over all of this, because a day only has so many hours. I don't get enough sleep... not enough for me to function properly anyways, and more than on occasion I have caught myself falling asleep at the steering wheel and catching myself before I cause an accident. I mass-produce graphics in the few hours I have at home, and ask for more and more, because we don't have enough money to pay all our bills and debts, and two HUGE payments are coming up rapidly that I don't know how to come up with the money for, unless a miracle's going to happen. I lobby to get some web work under my wings, because it pays good, not because I enjoy doing it. Matter of fact, I have come to HATE doing web work for clients, but I don't complain. I ask for more work. And even more, because I want to make some extra money so I can buy The Fiancé's parents plane tickets so they can come to their son's graduation in June, and because I know how much it gets him down knowing that they cannot afford the trip on their own. Heck, right now I am even making more money than him, and still it's not enough. It's never enough. But it has to be done. All of this. And I do it. And I don't usually complain about it. Why? Because I fucking LOVE him, and that's what people who love each other do for each other. I don't question any of this, I just go ahead and accomodate as well as I can.
Fuck this, I am so happy everytime I get to see him... walking out of his class to where I am waiting in the car, or coming from work... so happy that I don't even question all the time I spend on the road for him, that I cannot spend at home working off the pile of work that's there waiting for me.
Today? Today I need for myself. Today I need for homework, stuff that's due in class tonight. I need more time for it than I have available, yet I will STILL drive around to pick him up from school and get him to work and then get myself back to school, etc.
He said: "I need to drop off this, this, and that here, here and there."
I said: "Umm... but I cannot do this today, I need to get my homework done, and I need to get to the office on campus to drop of my application for work permit..."
From there on the shit just hit the fan, and things I heard up until now included statements such as "I don't want to deal with your bullshit", "you fucked up majorly with me", "you should have done your homework sooner, I see you all this time just playing online", and in response to "I want you to acknowledge that I am doing everything I can and more than that to accomodate to you and our situation" I heard: "you are doing so little, you used to do more".
And I was walked out on twice.
I will not give in to his attempts of making me the evil one here who caused all this, and I will not accept the guilt trip he is trying to put on me. I am about to snap under all this pressure that I never talk about, and when for once I stand up for myself and ask for a "day off" not because I am lazy, but because I don't want to fail my class, I get a whole load of horseshit flung into my face.
Living with three male roomates I have heard and learned a lot about how males function and strive on appreciation. A.P.P.R.E.C.I.A.T.I.O.N.
What about the way females function? Does anyone give a rat's ass about that? It's not like I am asking for outrageous"Please tell me ahead of time about the places we have to go, so I can work around that with my own schedule, and am not surprised if all of a sudden I find myself on the road for 4 hours when I really thought I'm just picking you up somewhere...". I'm not even asking to be asked stuff like "Do you mind?", or "Do you have time?" No... not at all. But is being respected and being appreciated really so much to ask for?
I just don't want to be taken for granted, even though the things I do I do out of love and without expecting to be "paid back" in any way. I don't want for my time to be taken for granted, and I don't want to deal with attitude when I NEED to spend some time on me, myself, and I alone, even if it inconveniences someone else. I don't usually inconvenience other people. I usually accomodate to everybody else's needs. I am not selfish, I aim to please... but the second it is impossible for me to do so for whatever reason, I am the bitch. I am selfish. I am "impossible".
I get attitude, and I am being told I am the one who gives attitude and is impossible to deal with.
I want someone to work with ME for a change, to work around MY schedule for a change... and I want to feel like I can be a "let down" every once in a while and that it's not going to be the end of the world, and I have to defend myself and my needs with bared teeth and claws just get my point across...
Speaking of world... fuck, I feel like I am carrying the whole entirety of it on my shoulders right now... :(
Why do I feel like I am supposed to apologize...? things such as
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Mmmmm...
And I mean mmmmm... no, seriously... MMMMMMM...
For the next couple of days we will both have to wear long sleeves for sure... and handle each other with care... but... mmmmmm... freakin'-A... this guy is good. Even if I now carry a red copy of his palm around with me on my shoulderblade, and a few bruises... and he's bleeding from several locations...
I am so dazed and mellow I could fall over with my forehead onto my keyboard right now, leave be all my work, and sleep away...
Who would have thought that Klingons actually know what they are doing...
For the next couple of days we will both have to wear long sleeves for sure... and handle each other with care... but... mmmmmm... freakin'-A... this guy is good. Even if I now carry a red copy of his palm around with me on my shoulderblade, and a few bruises... and he's bleeding from several locations...
I am so dazed and mellow I could fall over with my forehead onto my keyboard right now, leave be all my work, and sleep away...
Who would have thought that Klingons actually know what they are doing...
Friday, April 08, 2005
Accidental Abortion
My cousin finally showed some sense and is going to get rid of the baby.
And no, I am not really for abortion, but I am not really against it either, when circumstances call for a drastic decision. That girl can't even take care of herself, how can she be expected to be a responsible mother? Sad though, that because of the stupidity and irresponsibility of one person another human being won't ever get his or her chance at life. But it is what it is, and in the long run I strongly believe that this is better for all parties involved, the unborn child included. If I were her though, I wouldn't know how to live with myself anymore, now.
And what's really funny is how my mother exasperatedly exclaimed that "she is way too young to have a baby, anyways"... considering that my cousin is 20... and my mother had me when she was 20, and my sister when she was 23. But then I guess that "that was different, back then".
Sure... whatever helps y'all to feel better about this.
What I cannot understand on a personal level, and looking back on my own sexual history: how do people accidentally get pregnant? Ok. Let me rephrase that. I know how they do... but how can anybody in their right mind not take care enough of herself to even give it a remote chance of happening? Exposing herself to the possibility of happening? I know I am probally going to piss off some people with this, but ladies... I have been having sex since 10 years, on a regular and frequent basis, and not once was I worried about having accidentally gotten pregnant. With none of my partners. Not as a "horny teenager", not as an adult. Why? Because I act responsibly, no matter how "out of hand" things can become "in the heat of the moment".
There is no such thing as "the heat of the moment", when my life and the way I want it to go is at stake. There is no such thing as an "accident", when I know where I am headed in life, and determined on reaching that goal. There is nothing I will "accidentally" let get in the way of me and my life and how I want it to be, and nobody can tell me that "things can happen". Things won't happen, if you know how to take care of yourself. In 10 years... I never had one pregnancy scare, with the exception of when my period was almost 2 weeks late once - because I had a serious flu.
Let me tell you what I think about "accidental" pregancies. To me, there are only 3 reasons for them: a) the woman is tricking and trapping a man, telling him she "accidentally" got pregnant, and honey, remember, the pill only works in 99.9% of all cases, afterall. b) the woman has the hormonal mommy-tickles and deep down inside really wouldn't mind if she got pregant no matter what she portrays to the rest of the world, so on an unconscious level she becomes careless. And c) the woman is just plain irresponsible and/or stupid, having sex when she really shouldn't have (drunk, on drugs, etc.), believing that somehow sperm won't get her pregnant this time, or she just doesn't care about consequences, period.
Not that I am judging anybody. For what it's worth, until recently I could well have been categorized under b). My cousin probably falls under c). As for me now? Now that I suddenly really have something going on in my life that - with a bit of luck and a lot of hard work - just could turn into something extraordinary, I peeled myself out of category b) and took a firm hold of the steering wheel again, no matter how strongly the mommy hormones sometimes tickle me. As long as I have my hand on that steering wheel, there will be no "accidental" pregnancies in my life, and nobody can tell me that "I could never know". Yes, I can know. I do know. I have known for the past decade. With bodies that carry the capabilities that any woman's body does, we know how to prevent pregnancies, if we really want to.
And if sometime in the future, for whatever reason, you suddenly log on to this website and read about how I got "accidentally" pregnant, and how it all really wasn't my fault, and how the condom ripped, or the pill miraculously stopped working... let me tell you now: I probably fell back into category b) and just try to make it sound like something else.
Simple as that.
That said, and on another topic: The Fiancé and I didn't get to go to West Hollywood last night, because we ended up stuck in a draining business meeting that lasted from 6pm to 10:30pm... sorry Chica that we ruined your date because you needed us to give you a ride... we'll make it up to you soon. :(
And no, I am not really for abortion, but I am not really against it either, when circumstances call for a drastic decision. That girl can't even take care of herself, how can she be expected to be a responsible mother? Sad though, that because of the stupidity and irresponsibility of one person another human being won't ever get his or her chance at life. But it is what it is, and in the long run I strongly believe that this is better for all parties involved, the unborn child included. If I were her though, I wouldn't know how to live with myself anymore, now.
And what's really funny is how my mother exasperatedly exclaimed that "she is way too young to have a baby, anyways"... considering that my cousin is 20... and my mother had me when she was 20, and my sister when she was 23. But then I guess that "that was different, back then".
Sure... whatever helps y'all to feel better about this.
What I cannot understand on a personal level, and looking back on my own sexual history: how do people accidentally get pregnant? Ok. Let me rephrase that. I know how they do... but how can anybody in their right mind not take care enough of herself to even give it a remote chance of happening? Exposing herself to the possibility of happening? I know I am probally going to piss off some people with this, but ladies... I have been having sex since 10 years, on a regular and frequent basis, and not once was I worried about having accidentally gotten pregnant. With none of my partners. Not as a "horny teenager", not as an adult. Why? Because I act responsibly, no matter how "out of hand" things can become "in the heat of the moment".
There is no such thing as "the heat of the moment", when my life and the way I want it to go is at stake. There is no such thing as an "accident", when I know where I am headed in life, and determined on reaching that goal. There is nothing I will "accidentally" let get in the way of me and my life and how I want it to be, and nobody can tell me that "things can happen". Things won't happen, if you know how to take care of yourself. In 10 years... I never had one pregnancy scare, with the exception of when my period was almost 2 weeks late once - because I had a serious flu.
Let me tell you what I think about "accidental" pregancies. To me, there are only 3 reasons for them: a) the woman is tricking and trapping a man, telling him she "accidentally" got pregnant, and honey, remember, the pill only works in 99.9% of all cases, afterall. b) the woman has the hormonal mommy-tickles and deep down inside really wouldn't mind if she got pregant no matter what she portrays to the rest of the world, so on an unconscious level she becomes careless. And c) the woman is just plain irresponsible and/or stupid, having sex when she really shouldn't have (drunk, on drugs, etc.), believing that somehow sperm won't get her pregnant this time, or she just doesn't care about consequences, period.
Not that I am judging anybody. For what it's worth, until recently I could well have been categorized under b). My cousin probably falls under c). As for me now? Now that I suddenly really have something going on in my life that - with a bit of luck and a lot of hard work - just could turn into something extraordinary, I peeled myself out of category b) and took a firm hold of the steering wheel again, no matter how strongly the mommy hormones sometimes tickle me. As long as I have my hand on that steering wheel, there will be no "accidental" pregnancies in my life, and nobody can tell me that "I could never know". Yes, I can know. I do know. I have known for the past decade. With bodies that carry the capabilities that any woman's body does, we know how to prevent pregnancies, if we really want to.
And if sometime in the future, for whatever reason, you suddenly log on to this website and read about how I got "accidentally" pregnant, and how it all really wasn't my fault, and how the condom ripped, or the pill miraculously stopped working... let me tell you now: I probably fell back into category b) and just try to make it sound like something else.
Simple as that.
That said, and on another topic: The Fiancé and I didn't get to go to West Hollywood last night, because we ended up stuck in a draining business meeting that lasted from 6pm to 10:30pm... sorry Chica that we ruined your date because you needed us to give you a ride... we'll make it up to you soon. :(
Thursday, April 07, 2005
What happened.
Nothing.
This is basically the summary of last Thursday in West Hollywood, which I realize I haven't given to my readers yet.
Disappointed? Yeah, me too.
Well, ok, let's backtrack. It was actually nice. A real nice evening. I have never been to a gay bar before, so it was a rather liberating feeling for me to be among people who won't feel weirded out or offended if I openly stare at them, even if they sport a vagina. It felt amazing to be able to freely check out women, and be checked out by women. I noticed an evaluating gaze or two on me, yes, aside from those that The Fiancé pointed out to me. It was the most sexually charged place I have ever been to... especially the dancefloor: guys making out with girls, guys making out with guys, girls making out with girls, everywhere. I felt like a stepped into some sort of parallel universe, where this sort of "thing" is okay, and accepted and practiced by everybody.
You have to remember that I am usually living in a world that's biased and prejudiced against homosexuality, where I have to be careful who I out myself to. This is all new land for me. Bear with me.
You see, at first I felt really shy and insecure. It's like learning the whole flirting and teasing thing all over again, only from a different perspective. Everytime I noticed a girl looking at me, I simply wasn't able to hold her gaze for longer than it took me to notice that I was being looked at. It was infuriating me, because with guys I don't feel these sorts of inhibitions and shyness. As a matter of fact, I was being approached by no less than three guys during the course of the evening, which was exasperating - I wasn't there to hook up with any penis-bearer, but that seemed to be all the attention I would get for a while.
As the evening went on though I noticed that I got a bit bolder. I threw myself into the mass of people on the dancefloor, and that's where I managed to loosen up a bit. I noticed one girl searching eye contact with me quite obviously, and once I forced myself to hold her gaze for about three seconds (and three seconds can be a very long time) and got a sweet smile out of her, the ice was broken. Not that she approached me, though, for all her smiling at me. She was there with her girlfriend, and once I caught that one shooting me with invisible arrows from her eyes, so I turned away.
There was this one girl who had caught my attention pretty much ever since I entered the bar. She was rather tall (and being tall is one of the prerequisites you have to fulfill if you want to attract my attention at all), almost pretty - and she kept looking and smiling at me everytime she passed me by or I happened to pass her by.
Now brace yourself, hold on to something - we are rapidly approaching the highlight of the evening: once she was passing me by, being lead onto the dancefloor by another woman, and in the crowd of people she had to squish herself past me, literally. However, she didn't just squish past me. She rubbed herself past me, and her hand went onto my thigh, gently brushed all around it, until it landed on my butt, where it remained for a short while, then lightly squeezed me in a way that sent little electric shocks all the way from my buttocks to my brain. I turned around to her as she was already past me, and caught her smiling at me, her hand still in the hand of the woman about to dance with her, and in a sudden and unsuspected rage of boldness I smiled back and winked at her.
I winked at a woman!
I winked at a woman in a very unmistakable way!
Then I almost fainted with exhaustion, that wink took so much out of me.
When she came back the scenario almost repeated, only this time she didn't squeeze my buttocks, but rubbed my bare arms and said something that sounded like "hello there gorgeous", and I was too caught off guard that I couldn't even open my mouth to say anything back to her.
And that was that. By the time I have won my inner battle and was ready to approach her, she was already gone.
And that was when I saw The Fiancé's best friend (let's just assign a "name" to her now... I have a feeling I will mention her a few more times here) Chica in the arms of the girl I previously saw her dancing with, making out, probably not being phased by a nuclear bomb dropping right next to her. I went to look for The Fiancé, and found him slumped into a couch, tired and exhausted from the day, ready to leave. Now it was on me to interrupt Chica's obvious fun, and after a few fruitless taps on her shoulders she finally noticed my presence, exchanged phone numbers with that other girl, and we left.
Turns out that The Fiancé had a phone number of some guy in his pocket, too.
And who didn't get anything of that sort?
Yeah.
So I was pretty bummed out, feeling like a failure, feeling unattractive, and socially inept. Chica was completely hyper and giddy, and The Fiancé fell asleep in the car on the way to drop her off. Chica's incessant talking and giggling about the evening helped me to get over feeling bummed out a little bit, mostly because I was genuinely happy for her. She is new to experiencing these things just as much as I am, and I was happy that she found someone to live it out with, even if I didn't. I agreed to going again tonight.
But ever since then I have mixed feelings about that. And especially since The Fiancé made it known to me in his cute half-asleep voice that "mmmm... I might get me some ass tomorrow" when he fell asleep with his butt on my arm (don't ask) last night. Why? Because I can already see it happening: Chica set up a date with her girl from last week for tonight... and The Fiancé isn't exactly shy and inhibited when it comes to meeting new people, either. And he will find some fun tonight, if he has his mind set on it. I won't. I can set my mind on something all I want, and it isn't happening, because I am completely socially dysfunctional. I guess I am just selfish, and don't wanna be the fifth wheel tonight, because I am not able to take what I want for myself. As last week has already proven.
But whatever happened or didn't happen last week... at any rate it is yet another step on my way to myself, another step on the ladder that I set this blog up for in the first place. And I am proud of myself for taking it.
This is basically the summary of last Thursday in West Hollywood, which I realize I haven't given to my readers yet.
Disappointed? Yeah, me too.
Well, ok, let's backtrack. It was actually nice. A real nice evening. I have never been to a gay bar before, so it was a rather liberating feeling for me to be among people who won't feel weirded out or offended if I openly stare at them, even if they sport a vagina. It felt amazing to be able to freely check out women, and be checked out by women. I noticed an evaluating gaze or two on me, yes, aside from those that The Fiancé pointed out to me. It was the most sexually charged place I have ever been to... especially the dancefloor: guys making out with girls, guys making out with guys, girls making out with girls, everywhere. I felt like a stepped into some sort of parallel universe, where this sort of "thing" is okay, and accepted and practiced by everybody.
You have to remember that I am usually living in a world that's biased and prejudiced against homosexuality, where I have to be careful who I out myself to. This is all new land for me. Bear with me.
You see, at first I felt really shy and insecure. It's like learning the whole flirting and teasing thing all over again, only from a different perspective. Everytime I noticed a girl looking at me, I simply wasn't able to hold her gaze for longer than it took me to notice that I was being looked at. It was infuriating me, because with guys I don't feel these sorts of inhibitions and shyness. As a matter of fact, I was being approached by no less than three guys during the course of the evening, which was exasperating - I wasn't there to hook up with any penis-bearer, but that seemed to be all the attention I would get for a while.
As the evening went on though I noticed that I got a bit bolder. I threw myself into the mass of people on the dancefloor, and that's where I managed to loosen up a bit. I noticed one girl searching eye contact with me quite obviously, and once I forced myself to hold her gaze for about three seconds (and three seconds can be a very long time) and got a sweet smile out of her, the ice was broken. Not that she approached me, though, for all her smiling at me. She was there with her girlfriend, and once I caught that one shooting me with invisible arrows from her eyes, so I turned away.
There was this one girl who had caught my attention pretty much ever since I entered the bar. She was rather tall (and being tall is one of the prerequisites you have to fulfill if you want to attract my attention at all), almost pretty - and she kept looking and smiling at me everytime she passed me by or I happened to pass her by.
Now brace yourself, hold on to something - we are rapidly approaching the highlight of the evening: once she was passing me by, being lead onto the dancefloor by another woman, and in the crowd of people she had to squish herself past me, literally. However, she didn't just squish past me. She rubbed herself past me, and her hand went onto my thigh, gently brushed all around it, until it landed on my butt, where it remained for a short while, then lightly squeezed me in a way that sent little electric shocks all the way from my buttocks to my brain. I turned around to her as she was already past me, and caught her smiling at me, her hand still in the hand of the woman about to dance with her, and in a sudden and unsuspected rage of boldness I smiled back and winked at her.
I winked at a woman!
I winked at a woman in a very unmistakable way!
Then I almost fainted with exhaustion, that wink took so much out of me.
When she came back the scenario almost repeated, only this time she didn't squeeze my buttocks, but rubbed my bare arms and said something that sounded like "hello there gorgeous", and I was too caught off guard that I couldn't even open my mouth to say anything back to her.
And that was that. By the time I have won my inner battle and was ready to approach her, she was already gone.
And that was when I saw The Fiancé's best friend (let's just assign a "name" to her now... I have a feeling I will mention her a few more times here) Chica in the arms of the girl I previously saw her dancing with, making out, probably not being phased by a nuclear bomb dropping right next to her. I went to look for The Fiancé, and found him slumped into a couch, tired and exhausted from the day, ready to leave. Now it was on me to interrupt Chica's obvious fun, and after a few fruitless taps on her shoulders she finally noticed my presence, exchanged phone numbers with that other girl, and we left.
Turns out that The Fiancé had a phone number of some guy in his pocket, too.
And who didn't get anything of that sort?
Yeah.
So I was pretty bummed out, feeling like a failure, feeling unattractive, and socially inept. Chica was completely hyper and giddy, and The Fiancé fell asleep in the car on the way to drop her off. Chica's incessant talking and giggling about the evening helped me to get over feeling bummed out a little bit, mostly because I was genuinely happy for her. She is new to experiencing these things just as much as I am, and I was happy that she found someone to live it out with, even if I didn't. I agreed to going again tonight.
But ever since then I have mixed feelings about that. And especially since The Fiancé made it known to me in his cute half-asleep voice that "mmmm... I might get me some ass tomorrow" when he fell asleep with his butt on my arm (don't ask) last night. Why? Because I can already see it happening: Chica set up a date with her girl from last week for tonight... and The Fiancé isn't exactly shy and inhibited when it comes to meeting new people, either. And he will find some fun tonight, if he has his mind set on it. I won't. I can set my mind on something all I want, and it isn't happening, because I am completely socially dysfunctional. I guess I am just selfish, and don't wanna be the fifth wheel tonight, because I am not able to take what I want for myself. As last week has already proven.
But whatever happened or didn't happen last week... at any rate it is yet another step on my way to myself, another step on the ladder that I set this blog up for in the first place. And I am proud of myself for taking it.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Pregnant II
Before I get to my gay bar story... I just have to talk the following off my chest:
WHY IS EVERY-FREAKING-ONE AROUND ME PREGNANT???
Remember I told you about my cousin the other day? And my parents' friend?
Now my cousin's younger sister is pregnant. From a turk. A turk! Yes, call me racist all you want, screw you. Turks are Austria's biggest pestilence. They are an invasion reaking of caraway seed and garlic, dirty, rude, and obnoxious, acting in our country like they are in theirs... which doesn't bode well, considering that Austria is a conservative catholic place that doesn't take well to foreign influences. They think they have rights, demand bi-lingual street signs, take our government money and feed their 27 children back in Turkey with it, then take advantage of our lax immigration laws and bring them and their 48 wifes into our city, to live in highly overpriced holes for appartment buildings that are a shame for our city, 20 people per 3 square ft room. They call you everything in the book if they address you in Turkish and you respond to them in German. The streets in the "Turkish quarters" in Vienna (which - by now - spread over about half the city, and no, this is NOT an exaggeration) are dirty and smelly, and there are bazar-like gatherings at every street corner. It is a surprise if you walk the streets of your AUSTRIAN hometown, and hear more than an occasional word in German, that's otherwise drowned in a squabble of Turkish. In summertime you can't sit on the balcony anymore in my parents' building, for all you hear is their music, and praying muhezzins, loud enough to entertain three blocks. Police activity has increased significantly over the recent years in our area, and one almost has to be afraid walking in the street that once was playground for my sister and I and all our (Austrian) friends, where we wouldn't have to fear anything, where there was a park for us to play, with neatly planted flowers and roses, and a sandbox to play in, and...
...ugh... yeah. Pregnancies.
And yeah, yeah... spare me your complaints. Try living there for a week. Send your hatemail to ihateturksandopenlyadmittoit@ishoveyourveilupyourass.com
So. One of them got my baby cousin pregnant, after cashing her paychecks month after month after month, causing havoc in our family. But her, being stupid enough, let it happen, and let herself be knocked up by him. Now she's pregnant with a half-turk and he, of course, has made like a cloud and dissipated into thin air. Dumb girl wants to keep it, wants to move back in with mommy, and wants mommy to pay for everything. Mommy gives her the boot and tells her to either have an abortion or go to a women's house for help, and then she cries on the phone to my mom for hours.
What kind of a world do we live in???
Of course, on the good side, my ex's sister, who has been single for YEARS and an absolute mental case about dying old and lonely and without a man, has finally met a nice young man that my ex's family approves of, and is now scheduled to give birth in October. That's nice. I am happy for her. She's well over 30, and her mother is well into "IwannabeagrandmaNOWandIdon'tcarehowmuchpressureIputonmykids"- mode. I like to see when things work out. :)
And I am jealous, of course.
I wonder when it'll be my time... last night while waiting in line to get some ColdStone ice cream and watching a young family playing with their toddler, The Fiancé suddenly leaned over to me really close and whispered "I wanna marry you soon" into my ear...
WHY IS EVERY-FREAKING-ONE AROUND ME PREGNANT???
Remember I told you about my cousin the other day? And my parents' friend?
Now my cousin's younger sister is pregnant. From a turk. A turk! Yes, call me racist all you want, screw you. Turks are Austria's biggest pestilence. They are an invasion reaking of caraway seed and garlic, dirty, rude, and obnoxious, acting in our country like they are in theirs... which doesn't bode well, considering that Austria is a conservative catholic place that doesn't take well to foreign influences. They think they have rights, demand bi-lingual street signs, take our government money and feed their 27 children back in Turkey with it, then take advantage of our lax immigration laws and bring them and their 48 wifes into our city, to live in highly overpriced holes for appartment buildings that are a shame for our city, 20 people per 3 square ft room. They call you everything in the book if they address you in Turkish and you respond to them in German. The streets in the "Turkish quarters" in Vienna (which - by now - spread over about half the city, and no, this is NOT an exaggeration) are dirty and smelly, and there are bazar-like gatherings at every street corner. It is a surprise if you walk the streets of your AUSTRIAN hometown, and hear more than an occasional word in German, that's otherwise drowned in a squabble of Turkish. In summertime you can't sit on the balcony anymore in my parents' building, for all you hear is their music, and praying muhezzins, loud enough to entertain three blocks. Police activity has increased significantly over the recent years in our area, and one almost has to be afraid walking in the street that once was playground for my sister and I and all our (Austrian) friends, where we wouldn't have to fear anything, where there was a park for us to play, with neatly planted flowers and roses, and a sandbox to play in, and...
...ugh... yeah. Pregnancies.
And yeah, yeah... spare me your complaints. Try living there for a week. Send your hatemail to ihateturksandopenlyadmittoit@ishoveyourveilupyourass.com
So. One of them got my baby cousin pregnant, after cashing her paychecks month after month after month, causing havoc in our family. But her, being stupid enough, let it happen, and let herself be knocked up by him. Now she's pregnant with a half-turk and he, of course, has made like a cloud and dissipated into thin air. Dumb girl wants to keep it, wants to move back in with mommy, and wants mommy to pay for everything. Mommy gives her the boot and tells her to either have an abortion or go to a women's house for help, and then she cries on the phone to my mom for hours.
What kind of a world do we live in???
Of course, on the good side, my ex's sister, who has been single for YEARS and an absolute mental case about dying old and lonely and without a man, has finally met a nice young man that my ex's family approves of, and is now scheduled to give birth in October. That's nice. I am happy for her. She's well over 30, and her mother is well into "IwannabeagrandmaNOWandIdon'tcarehowmuchpressureIputonmykids"- mode. I like to see when things work out. :)
And I am jealous, of course.
I wonder when it'll be my time... last night while waiting in line to get some ColdStone ice cream and watching a young family playing with their toddler, The Fiancé suddenly leaned over to me really close and whispered "I wanna marry you soon" into my ear...
