My So-Called Life
Feb. 9th, 2004 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookofmirrorsIt had been my intention yesterday to just sit down at the computer and WRITE. Endlessly. All the things that have been pooling around in my head for months now. Get it all out. Take the time. Just do it.
Well, seeing as how it's today, and there were no entries posted yesterday, I suppose it's obvious that didn't happen. I'm gonna see what I can do about it happening today. Which means several things won't happen:
My long overdue visit to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elorie isn't going to happen yet again.
I won't be going over toisarma's to talk with her about stuff.
I won't be going over towaterfall_sh's to help her paint.
I won't be going to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tc_borderpagans tonight.
I probably won't be getting my taxes done or my bills paid today. That one's still up for debate, and I'll see if I can getblckwngdorcl to keep me company if I do those things.
My apologies to all for this. I've had little to no me time recently. I suppose yesterday might count as such, but... well...
A couple of nights ago,blckwngdorcl and I had a talk. Mostly about how I'd been a psychobitch lately, and how it was affecting those around me. Don't get me wrong. He made some very good, very valid points, and I understood, both logically and from a soul level that he was being as kind and loving as one could be for that type of discussion. It was information I needed to know, and I'm grateful to him for bringing it up to me.
Which is great, right?
Except that my logical self and my higher self weren't the only parts of me listening to him.
The other parts of me, the fragile parts, the parts that see the worst in myself, heard something entirely different from him.
In a nutshell: You're a freak, no one likes to be around you, no one likes you, and that's why I've been wanting so much "me time", and that's why I never want to have sex with you again.
Having full knowledge of all of these sides of myself and knowing logically that I was being fatalistic did nothing to prevent me from FEELING that way. It did "help" me feel that I was an unreasonable melodramatic pathetic bitch for feeling that way, though.
Now, keep in mind, there was a certain amount of logic to what I "heard".
blckwngdorcl does like his alone time. This is difficult for me to accept. Combine my natural Libran pairing tendencies with my almost neurotic desire to be with him as much as possible, and enforced time away from him is unpleasant for me, at best. I require very little "me" time, and I simply can't comprehend when others do, at least to the extent that he needs it. He frequently has to remind me of this need of his, because I have a hard time incorporating it into my mentality. To the best of my knowledge, I'm not unreasonale about it when he does need it. Disappointed, to be sure, but I want him to be happy. And, it just so happens that recently, he's felt a need for a great deal of time alone.
It also so happens that I can't remember the last time we had sex. Well, that's not entirely true, but the last time I can for sure remember was (two days short of) a month ago. He's had no desire for me that I can tell in recent memory.
Unfortunately, this sets off about a dozen different triggers for me.
First of all, even though I've improved in this area greatly, I still, to some extent, equate love with sex. Don't get me wrong. I know my husband loves me. He shows me in a hundred other ways, and all those ways have the ring of Truth about them. But I still have it in my head that if there's no lust there, too, something's missing.
This sense of "something's missing" stems from my relationship with Fig. I sucked his dick frequently. He expressed desire for it, and was fairly demonstrative in his appreciation of it while it was happening. There was rarely penetration, and when there was, it was always with the mentality that it was a favor to me. I rarely got off as a result of our encounters. It was all about him, and I accepted that. But, at the same time, I felt somewhat slighted. The thing that really sticks out in my head was Fig's concept of cunnilingus. I remember talking about it one day. He said the thought of it totally grossed him out. Not with me, specifically - just the idea of it. He said it would be like asking him to "eat vomit". So, sure, I was disappointed, but, hey, some people just aren't into giving oral sex, guys or girls, so I wasn't gonna freak about it. Penetration was usually off-limits 'cause he didn't want to lose (his version of) his virginity. Never mind that he technically lost it during our second sexual encounter, back in 1995 (our relationship, such as it was, ended in 2000) - in his mind, he was still a virgin as long as he didn't cum inside me. So, penetration was dangerous if I was to respect his right to stay a virgin in his own mind. But, when he started dating Jessica, he didn't hesitate to lose his so-called virginity. And, he ate her out. From what I understand, he liked it so much, he would beg for it (I heard this from both her and him). I'm reminded of the scene in When Harry Met Sally, where Sally is talking to Harry, and is upset that her ex-boyfriend was getting married. She said that they'd had several talks about getting married, and had decided against it, 'cause it changed the dynamics of the relationship. But, they had never really taken advantage of the "better" dynamics of the non-married relationship. She came to the conclusion that it wasn't that her ex didn't want to be married - it was that he didn't want to be married to HER. That's what happened with Fig. When it came down to it, it was me he didn't want, not any particular act or lack thereof. When he found The One, his reluctance to perform certain acts just went away. I constantly fear thatblckwngdorcl is going to find *his* "Jessica", and all the lust he supposedly doesn't feel, will become all the lust he just didn't feel for *me*.
As a result, I'm convinced that, somehow, I have either not enough of something, or too much of something else, or both, and that those things that are "wrong" with me are what keeps my husband from wanting me.
There are triggers within triggers, of course, but that's basically it.
So, yesterday, I woke up to clean the house, quite firmly convinced that no one else would wake up to help me.simplysakka did, and I was very grateful for it, but it didn't do anything to help my mood. If anything, it made me feel like shit for doubting her to begin with. On the other hand, liljuice and blckwngdorcl slept through 90% of the cleaning, so...
And I just felt like shit. Nobody likes me everybody hates me think I'll go eat worms shit. So, I took a shower when my part of the cleaning was done, and I left.blckwngdorcl told me later that simplysakka was worried when I didn't answer her as I was leaving, but I didn't hear her. I did hear my phone ring, as I was driving away, but I didn't feel like talking.
I didn't know what I did feel like doing, either.
So, I proceeded to go acquire more bad news. Which wasn't my intention, it just worked out that way.
My stereo in my car has been shot for a long time, and I really really miss having music in my car. There are a lot of fond memories for me and warm fuzzies regarding music in my car that I won't get into here, but suffice it to say that I was getting very sad that I could no longer listen to anything. So, I had made some phone calls last week, and picked a store I wanted to go in to to see if I could pick up a new deck. They happened to be open on Sunday, so I popped in to have it checked out. I decided to have them take a look at the deck first. I have a first generation Rockford Fosgate deck, and, when it worked, it was the shit. All my stock speakers were replaced with RF speakers, and I have an RF amp and 2 8-inch subwoofers (which are plenty big for a car the size of mine). I fucking love Rockford Fosgate. However, after having talked to several people, apparently they're no longer making their own decks anymore. They're having them made by Delphi. Fucking Delphi. If I'm not mistaken, Delphi makes the stock decks that come standard in most cars. In other words, shit. So, fuck. Now I'm at a loss for what to buy. So, anyway, I go in with the idea of either getting my deck fixed (preferable) or getting a new deck. So, the guy turns on my stereo and listens. "Your speakers are shot." He tells me. He fucks with my settings a bit, and after a bit of back-and-forth discussion, here's the deal:
A long time back, the wiring and plugs to my subs got worn, and I ended up unhooking them until I had the time/money to get them fixed. In the meantime, I cranked up the bass output on my stereo to make up for the bass that the subs were no longer providing. Even though I have bass blockers on all my other speakers, I had specifically bought speakers for the mids and highs, so I could run all the bass through the subs. My speakers weren't designed to handle the amount of bass I was trying to feed them. And, my deck feeds a lot of juice. It's designed to not NEED an amp, if you don't want one. So, my deck began to fry my speakers. My speakers, in turn, started creating some sort of feedback, which, in turn, began to fry my deck.
So, there ya have it, folks. For what would have probably been a $20 wiring/plug fix, I now have to spend about $600 to get a system even close to what I had, and I have to switch manufacturers to boot. I ran around with the stereo/bass freaks in Illinois, and back then, Kenwood and Alpine were considered shit, so, even though the tables seem to have turned, I'm loathe to put them in my car. Seems like sacrilege.
*sigh*
So, after I spent $50 to get that bad news, I went over to Wal-Mart to get a few things for the house. I ended up getting a few more things than I had intended, and still really didn't feel like going home. What I did feel like was vegetating. Reading some fluffy novel that I could finish in a few hours and get lost in. Nothing I had to think about. So, I headed over to Barnes and Noble. Pretty much I have two authors for this kind of mood. V.C. Andrews (or the person now writing in her name) and Bertrice Small. V.C. Andrews writes the equivalent of soap operas. Poor girl becomes rich, usually through a scandal that involves her actually being the daughter of someone other than those she considers to be her parents. She ends up living with the rich people she's really related to, and has all her financial dreams come true, only to find out that the rich relatives are twisted fucks. Usually there's an ending something to the effect of finding out that it's even more twisted than she thinks, and she's really the result of an involuntary incestuous relationship between her mother and the mother's father-in-law or some fucked up shit like that. Pure drama, easy reading. Bertrice Small writes historical romances. Normally I don't go for romance novels, but this lady has enough truly graphic and well-written sex scenes to hold my interest. Porn with a plot. Until recently, her novels all had pretty much the same theme. Girl falls in love with guy, marries him. Girl is so wonderful and beautiful and clever that she arouses the love and lust of all the men around her, and the jealousy and spitefulness of all the women. Girl eventually gets kidnapped as a result of the evil scheming of one of the jealous women or lustful men, usually gets sold into sexual slavery, where her new owner falls in love with her, and she with him, but she always longs for her first love, and finds her way back to him with much cleverness and charm, and they all live happily ever after. I was more in the mood for the latter this time, so I picked up a copy of her latest novel, and went home, barely speaking to anyone, and curled up on the bed and read it all the way through.
This put me in a somewhat better mood. At least enough so that I wasn't quite so flat, or quite so sad. So, I askedblckwngdorcl to go to dinner with me at R. Thomas. I fucking love R. Thomas, and we hadn't been there in a while. So, over dinner (well, I ate, he didn't), I told him what I had heard in addition to his words. How I didn't know if I had left earlier to just get away from it all, or to martyr myself (punish myself, too) and give him more "me time", or just what. We talked about his lack of desire for me, and nothing really came of that. He doesn't know why, so I'm left being convinced that I lack something or have too much of something else. I've found that I've practically shut off my own sexuality to make it easier to deal with his lack of it, and I don't like that feeling, either.
Tears were shed, apologies and reassurances were made. I'm not sure what came of it. I feel better, but still sad. I love my husband. I love him very much. Our marriage is right, and there is a sense of Truth in our relationship that I have had with no other. I want nothing more than to be with him. But, right now, I'm resigned to an asexual life with him. And yes, I know that's both melodramatic and unrealistic. But hope is something that hurts right now, and I simply am not willing to deal with that kind of pain.
Well, seeing as how it's today, and there were no entries posted yesterday, I suppose it's obvious that didn't happen. I'm gonna see what I can do about it happening today. Which means several things won't happen:
My long overdue visit to
elorie isn't going to happen yet again.I won't be going over to
isarma's to talk with her about stuff.I won't be going over to
waterfall_sh's to help her paint.I won't be going to
tc_borderpagans tonight.I probably won't be getting my taxes done or my bills paid today. That one's still up for debate, and I'll see if I can get
blckwngdorcl to keep me company if I do those things. My apologies to all for this. I've had little to no me time recently. I suppose yesterday might count as such, but... well...
A couple of nights ago,
blckwngdorcl and I had a talk. Mostly about how I'd been a psychobitch lately, and how it was affecting those around me. Don't get me wrong. He made some very good, very valid points, and I understood, both logically and from a soul level that he was being as kind and loving as one could be for that type of discussion. It was information I needed to know, and I'm grateful to him for bringing it up to me.Which is great, right?
Except that my logical self and my higher self weren't the only parts of me listening to him.
The other parts of me, the fragile parts, the parts that see the worst in myself, heard something entirely different from him.
In a nutshell: You're a freak, no one likes to be around you, no one likes you, and that's why I've been wanting so much "me time", and that's why I never want to have sex with you again.
Having full knowledge of all of these sides of myself and knowing logically that I was being fatalistic did nothing to prevent me from FEELING that way. It did "help" me feel that I was an unreasonable melodramatic pathetic bitch for feeling that way, though.
Now, keep in mind, there was a certain amount of logic to what I "heard".
blckwngdorcl does like his alone time. This is difficult for me to accept. Combine my natural Libran pairing tendencies with my almost neurotic desire to be with him as much as possible, and enforced time away from him is unpleasant for me, at best. I require very little "me" time, and I simply can't comprehend when others do, at least to the extent that he needs it. He frequently has to remind me of this need of his, because I have a hard time incorporating it into my mentality. To the best of my knowledge, I'm not unreasonale about it when he does need it. Disappointed, to be sure, but I want him to be happy. And, it just so happens that recently, he's felt a need for a great deal of time alone.It also so happens that I can't remember the last time we had sex. Well, that's not entirely true, but the last time I can for sure remember was (two days short of) a month ago. He's had no desire for me that I can tell in recent memory.
Unfortunately, this sets off about a dozen different triggers for me.
First of all, even though I've improved in this area greatly, I still, to some extent, equate love with sex. Don't get me wrong. I know my husband loves me. He shows me in a hundred other ways, and all those ways have the ring of Truth about them. But I still have it in my head that if there's no lust there, too, something's missing.
This sense of "something's missing" stems from my relationship with Fig. I sucked his dick frequently. He expressed desire for it, and was fairly demonstrative in his appreciation of it while it was happening. There was rarely penetration, and when there was, it was always with the mentality that it was a favor to me. I rarely got off as a result of our encounters. It was all about him, and I accepted that. But, at the same time, I felt somewhat slighted. The thing that really sticks out in my head was Fig's concept of cunnilingus. I remember talking about it one day. He said the thought of it totally grossed him out. Not with me, specifically - just the idea of it. He said it would be like asking him to "eat vomit". So, sure, I was disappointed, but, hey, some people just aren't into giving oral sex, guys or girls, so I wasn't gonna freak about it. Penetration was usually off-limits 'cause he didn't want to lose (his version of) his virginity. Never mind that he technically lost it during our second sexual encounter, back in 1995 (our relationship, such as it was, ended in 2000) - in his mind, he was still a virgin as long as he didn't cum inside me. So, penetration was dangerous if I was to respect his right to stay a virgin in his own mind. But, when he started dating Jessica, he didn't hesitate to lose his so-called virginity. And, he ate her out. From what I understand, he liked it so much, he would beg for it (I heard this from both her and him). I'm reminded of the scene in When Harry Met Sally, where Sally is talking to Harry, and is upset that her ex-boyfriend was getting married. She said that they'd had several talks about getting married, and had decided against it, 'cause it changed the dynamics of the relationship. But, they had never really taken advantage of the "better" dynamics of the non-married relationship. She came to the conclusion that it wasn't that her ex didn't want to be married - it was that he didn't want to be married to HER. That's what happened with Fig. When it came down to it, it was me he didn't want, not any particular act or lack thereof. When he found The One, his reluctance to perform certain acts just went away. I constantly fear that
blckwngdorcl is going to find *his* "Jessica", and all the lust he supposedly doesn't feel, will become all the lust he just didn't feel for *me*. As a result, I'm convinced that, somehow, I have either not enough of something, or too much of something else, or both, and that those things that are "wrong" with me are what keeps my husband from wanting me.
There are triggers within triggers, of course, but that's basically it.
So, yesterday, I woke up to clean the house, quite firmly convinced that no one else would wake up to help me.
simplysakka did, and I was very grateful for it, but it didn't do anything to help my mood. If anything, it made me feel like shit for doubting her to begin with. On the other hand, liljuice and blckwngdorcl slept through 90% of the cleaning, so...And I just felt like shit. Nobody likes me everybody hates me think I'll go eat worms shit. So, I took a shower when my part of the cleaning was done, and I left.
blckwngdorcl told me later that simplysakka was worried when I didn't answer her as I was leaving, but I didn't hear her. I did hear my phone ring, as I was driving away, but I didn't feel like talking.I didn't know what I did feel like doing, either.
So, I proceeded to go acquire more bad news. Which wasn't my intention, it just worked out that way.
My stereo in my car has been shot for a long time, and I really really miss having music in my car. There are a lot of fond memories for me and warm fuzzies regarding music in my car that I won't get into here, but suffice it to say that I was getting very sad that I could no longer listen to anything. So, I had made some phone calls last week, and picked a store I wanted to go in to to see if I could pick up a new deck. They happened to be open on Sunday, so I popped in to have it checked out. I decided to have them take a look at the deck first. I have a first generation Rockford Fosgate deck, and, when it worked, it was the shit. All my stock speakers were replaced with RF speakers, and I have an RF amp and 2 8-inch subwoofers (which are plenty big for a car the size of mine). I fucking love Rockford Fosgate. However, after having talked to several people, apparently they're no longer making their own decks anymore. They're having them made by Delphi. Fucking Delphi. If I'm not mistaken, Delphi makes the stock decks that come standard in most cars. In other words, shit. So, fuck. Now I'm at a loss for what to buy. So, anyway, I go in with the idea of either getting my deck fixed (preferable) or getting a new deck. So, the guy turns on my stereo and listens. "Your speakers are shot." He tells me. He fucks with my settings a bit, and after a bit of back-and-forth discussion, here's the deal:
A long time back, the wiring and plugs to my subs got worn, and I ended up unhooking them until I had the time/money to get them fixed. In the meantime, I cranked up the bass output on my stereo to make up for the bass that the subs were no longer providing. Even though I have bass blockers on all my other speakers, I had specifically bought speakers for the mids and highs, so I could run all the bass through the subs. My speakers weren't designed to handle the amount of bass I was trying to feed them. And, my deck feeds a lot of juice. It's designed to not NEED an amp, if you don't want one. So, my deck began to fry my speakers. My speakers, in turn, started creating some sort of feedback, which, in turn, began to fry my deck.
So, there ya have it, folks. For what would have probably been a $20 wiring/plug fix, I now have to spend about $600 to get a system even close to what I had, and I have to switch manufacturers to boot. I ran around with the stereo/bass freaks in Illinois, and back then, Kenwood and Alpine were considered shit, so, even though the tables seem to have turned, I'm loathe to put them in my car. Seems like sacrilege.
*sigh*
So, after I spent $50 to get that bad news, I went over to Wal-Mart to get a few things for the house. I ended up getting a few more things than I had intended, and still really didn't feel like going home. What I did feel like was vegetating. Reading some fluffy novel that I could finish in a few hours and get lost in. Nothing I had to think about. So, I headed over to Barnes and Noble. Pretty much I have two authors for this kind of mood. V.C. Andrews (or the person now writing in her name) and Bertrice Small. V.C. Andrews writes the equivalent of soap operas. Poor girl becomes rich, usually through a scandal that involves her actually being the daughter of someone other than those she considers to be her parents. She ends up living with the rich people she's really related to, and has all her financial dreams come true, only to find out that the rich relatives are twisted fucks. Usually there's an ending something to the effect of finding out that it's even more twisted than she thinks, and she's really the result of an involuntary incestuous relationship between her mother and the mother's father-in-law or some fucked up shit like that. Pure drama, easy reading. Bertrice Small writes historical romances. Normally I don't go for romance novels, but this lady has enough truly graphic and well-written sex scenes to hold my interest. Porn with a plot. Until recently, her novels all had pretty much the same theme. Girl falls in love with guy, marries him. Girl is so wonderful and beautiful and clever that she arouses the love and lust of all the men around her, and the jealousy and spitefulness of all the women. Girl eventually gets kidnapped as a result of the evil scheming of one of the jealous women or lustful men, usually gets sold into sexual slavery, where her new owner falls in love with her, and she with him, but she always longs for her first love, and finds her way back to him with much cleverness and charm, and they all live happily ever after. I was more in the mood for the latter this time, so I picked up a copy of her latest novel, and went home, barely speaking to anyone, and curled up on the bed and read it all the way through.
This put me in a somewhat better mood. At least enough so that I wasn't quite so flat, or quite so sad. So, I asked
blckwngdorcl to go to dinner with me at R. Thomas. I fucking love R. Thomas, and we hadn't been there in a while. So, over dinner (well, I ate, he didn't), I told him what I had heard in addition to his words. How I didn't know if I had left earlier to just get away from it all, or to martyr myself (punish myself, too) and give him more "me time", or just what. We talked about his lack of desire for me, and nothing really came of that. He doesn't know why, so I'm left being convinced that I lack something or have too much of something else. I've found that I've practically shut off my own sexuality to make it easier to deal with his lack of it, and I don't like that feeling, either.Tears were shed, apologies and reassurances were made. I'm not sure what came of it. I feel better, but still sad. I love my husband. I love him very much. Our marriage is right, and there is a sense of Truth in our relationship that I have had with no other. I want nothing more than to be with him. But, right now, I'm resigned to an asexual life with him. And yes, I know that's both melodramatic and unrealistic. But hope is something that hurts right now, and I simply am not willing to deal with that kind of pain.
