Managing expectations

The musician I had posted about back in March is in my city tonight, 3 miles away from my place to be exact, but I won’t be seeing him. It stings my ego to write that. As someone whose used to men chasing and paying her – having a guy I dig put in little effort to see me hurts. I always have this issue with men I like. If they’re honest and up front I rarely get mad or at least I don’t show it. Do I even have a right to be upset? I’ve hung out with him twice and we fucked one of the times…whats my problem? And yet I am who I am. Asking if I have a right to feel a certain way is irrelevant; I can control how I act/react, but not how I feel.

To be fair he tried making time to see me it just so happens that I’ll be at my new job that day and he had invited me to be on his guest list several times. I said no because I didn’t want to feel like a groupie. Its not that I don’t like watching him perform – he’s incredible, its mainly that I didn’t want to be the only one putting in all the effort. I’d gone out of my way every time we’d hung out. If he was going to be in my city and not put in any effort why would I go see him perform without being able to have any one on one time whatsoever?
Then I remembered my stubborn streak with A. My friend called me out on how much I regretted the times I did this with him because I was all or nothing and I had vowed to not be like that in any of my personal relationships after he died, for a moment I agreed. Your head gets fucked up after a partner dies so suddenly when you’re young – now every situation the back of my head I think “would I regret doing/not doing this if I could never see them again” its really extreme…I know.
So I texted the musician and asked if he still had room on the list he said he didn’t, but would see what he could do. I knew what that meant and I didn’t need the faux niceties he was serving up – that shit always irritates me. If he was any other man I would’ve called it out, its his show after all. But instead I took the blame. Why?

Its that he’s kind to me. For me kindness is the ultimate drug. I know its pathetic , but its something I’ve missed out on most of my life; mainly from men and paternal figures. So when a straight man in my personal life seems genuinely kind to me all bets are off. All I want to do is be enveloped in that feeling of this person being kind to me. I crave it deeply. I go from powerful, sharp tongued, take no shit kind of woman to a soft and mushy purring complacent cat. He’s honest, he calls me if I ask him to, he almost always replies, he sends snapchats and keeps in touch – it felt great for a while to not worry about someone ghosting or being cruel to me. Until I realized I was initiating most of it. I know better than that, come on woman!
I’m probably one of dozens of women he keeps saved in his phone on nights he’s lonely or horny. And thats ok, I know how it goes – I’ve made an entire career out of it. Its just that I loathe the feeling of being completely unimportant to someone. The feeling that I could be anyone, I’m just another person to kill time with. I may hate that feeling more than I hate the feeling of longing and thats really saying something.

If I’m completely honest with myself I don’t think I’m remotely upset with him. I’m upset with myself for always craving so much. My therapist was right when she said I’m living in the realm of the hungry ghost when it comes to these situations.
The Hungry Ghost: The description is that of beings that have incredibly tiny mouths—they are said to be about the size of a pin, just a tiny opening—and great big stomachs; and these stomachs are empty.  They are not able to take in the amounts of nourishment that they need. The reality of the realm of the hungry ghost is that they experience extreme need and extreme hunger.

For me the extreme need and hunger is a desire for kindness and to feel cared for. When I get a taste I want more and more because I worry it’ll be taken from me at any moment. But seeing as I’ve never had much of it – when I do receive a lot at once I tend to run or self sabotage because I don’t know how to take all of it in. My brain is like “woah. what do I do with all this kindness and affection!? RUN!” Its quite a frustrating cycle. But hey – ambivalent/avoidant attachment 101!

I’ve been working on changing this part of myself for some time now. Its definitely improved, but in situations like this I’m reminded I still have a lot of internalized personal feelings I need to work out.
I don’t know what to do. Do I back off? Do I tell him? Do I just keep talking to him several times a week?
Maybe my depression is exacerbating everything too…so how do you know what to communicate when you don’t know what makes sense? Whats real? Its not to say that my feelings are any less valid when my depression hits harder than normal…but I’m aware that my anxieties and insecurities are heightened.
Maybe next week my depression will lighten up a bit. I’ll turn back into the woman everyone is used to seeing and 90% of this wont apply.
I’ll laugh at this post because I won’t believe how dramatic I was being.

Its hard to tell so its hard to know what to do.

The epitome of health

I convinced my therapist and physician to give me the ok on Xanax.
I definitely do have anxiety, but the panic attacks are so rare compared to two+ years ago that I don’t think I can honestly say I “need” it.
I just want to have it so I can fuck around and barter for adderall.
So my reward for going to the gym today is picking up my prescription.

My depression was/is definitely creeping up, but I’ve started working out again which helps a lot. I need structure and goals I’m actively working toward in order to feel fulfilled. The past 6 weeks has been a mess, no working out, tons of travel, drinking and binge eating garbage. Its time for me to get back on track. I need to loose another 15 lbs (ideally 20) by June.
My therapist and I touched on my compulsions last sessions and its something I want to further explore -why am I like this?
If I’m healthy I’m super healthy – eating well, gym, yoga, dance. If I’m working toward a solid goal in school I focus on that as if I have tunnel vision. If I’m abstaining from sex I’m abstaining from personal dating in any shape or form.
But just the same
If I’m not healthy I’m binging on garbage food, binging on booze, binging on men, binging on shopping – until I quite literally make myself sick, like i have this round having my depression creep back up on me.

Now I’m like Okay, I’m gonna work out and go back on my healthy eating…but I’m going to abuse adderall and Xanax. I’m still not sure where my stance is on men. If I’m honest with myself I do want to just go to a bar and pick up a new hot guy every other night, I’m insatiable once I start and its just so easy. But I’m also aware that won’t fulfill me so I want to find one or two I can tolerate who are actually good in bed and can see me regularly. I can’t have just one I get too attached and one can never give me everything I need/want.
The only men who’ve ever been able to live up to my standards of money, care, sexual appetite, intellect, and empathy have all been Sugar daddies. Maybe theres something to the fact that most men say “I can’t give you everything you want” when they dump me considering its  historically been used most often.
But I’ll never lower my standards considering I hold myself up to the same ones.

I feel good about the fact that I can stop to psychoanalyze and reflect on my compulsions. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m eons ahead of the girl I was in my early 20s.

That Much I Know

They will come and go
That much I know

Some leave quickly,
others like slowly ripping bandaids off my skin
tearing away pieces of me as they go

Some like an open wound
Some like scars that can’t be seen
Some like a gentle hug so light I have to question if they’d ever held me at all

I was never built to become the woman they stay for
Independent to a fault
Aspirations soaring through the sky
An infinite hunger for discovering all the other I’ve yet to see
That much I know

I am not immediately soft
I scare them
That much I know

And still they will always come back
Once they taste my heart
They end up starving for what I gave

No, I am not the woman they build a home in
That much I know

I am a fountain of power they long to understand,
to hold,
to tame.
That much I know

I am complexity
entropy
and synchronicity
most people can’t hold that
That much I know

Maybe I don’t want to be held
Maybe I do

I don’t know

I don’t know

“Where Are You Going? Please Stay.”

Re: Short lived, but enriching

I’ll truly jump through hoops in order to not feel longing and I know thats why I initially replied to his text yesterday. I can feel loss, anger, pain, rage, fear – I can sit with them all, have a full on discussion and ask what they’d like from me…but not if the core of those feelings is longing. Longing is like swallowing my tongue whole. Not being able to breathe. Not being able to speak. Standing there paralyzed. Dying unable to ask for what I need.
Its something I grew up with every day since the day I was born. Longing for security, safety, love, stability…and never getting it. As I grew older I grew to run as fast as I could I’d rather feel anything else; drunk, high, full of adrenalin, near death, fucking strangers – anything but the yearning of that which I can’t have. Some people who grew up with an extreme longing throughout their childhood grow to be very good at longing – almost to a fault. The others end up like me. Its funny how quickly our minds will run to an extreme in order to avoid the one feeling we’ve grown to abhor more than any other.

Its not that I don’t like this guy I do, he’s a good guy, but its purely physical. I also get ridiculously horny once I sleep with someone its hard for me to shut it off again especially if I’m not committed. If I am I committed I control myself easily as I’ve an extremely monogamous heart. But I have to be honest with myself and realize no matter whether I wanted to sleep with him before or not – this time it stemmed from my desire to escape the original feeling of longing.

“You need to learn to sit with this feeling. It is going to be painful, you will cry, and you may go a little crazy…but at some point its a lesson you need to learn in order to be the healthiest version of yourself you say you’d like to be”
I sat there frustrated staring at my therapist…I didn’t want more pain I wanted to feel happy. Did that mean I wasn’t ready for all the changes I said I wanted to make? What the fuck was my problem.
To see a clear fork in the road and one that says “OLD COPING MECHANISMS” and the other “PATH TOWARD GROWTH” and take the former….thats how much I evidently hate longing.

So off I went. He kept complimenting me and touching the small of the back. I was short because I could be. After all, he said I was too nurturing when we were dating. Colds what he wanted so colds what he’ll get. Once I move someone out of the “romantic interest” compartment in my brain there’s truly no making your way back. Not to say I’m mean thats not really in my nature, but I’ll grow distant because I’ll know they’ll always come back..perhaps not because they want all of me but simply because they’re craving my energy or want someone to warm their bed. Thats ok with me.
He put his arm around me. I let him. This part felt familiar. We engaged in mindless smalltalk then he mentioned that he saw that I moved into my own apartment recently. He asked how I could afford it. I laughed. His eyes widened “So how do you afford all this?” I laughed more. He joked and asked “can I buy some cocaine off you?!” I pushed his shoulder and said absolutely not. I just said “We come from different worlds and the way we survive is very different just leave it at that.” I know he’d never accept me being a SW much less an escort. He’s too young, too arrogant, too unaware of what it feels like to not know whether you’ll eat the next day or if you’ll have a home next week. In retrospect I wish I had said I was a drug dealer – its more accepted than being a hooker. Now I’ll have to come up with a lie if I see him again.
I changed the subject and feigned interest I was merely waiting to see how he’d make his move.

Finally he did. We hadn’t slept together when we did date so I could sense his hesitation as he tried to gauge if I was going to let it happen. He lifted me and took me to the bed. Firmly put his hands around my throat and kissed me. This wasn’t gentle. It was animalistic, it was hunger. Perhaps even more so my own than his. So much so that for the first time in my life I tore – blood splattered out toward his chest, all over his torso, and forearms. He stopped and my immediate reaction was to laugh because in my mind it was such a vivid visual of the choice I’d made coming to fruition. Then I realized that probably made me look crazy so I acted concerned, which I started to be considering just how much blood there was. He carried me to the shower so we could get cleaned up.

Afterwards we lay on his bed, cuddling him was okay when we dated but it took me a while to warm up. This time I lay stiff trying my best to breathe deeply and normally. I decided to leave because I needed sleep and sleepovers are saved for a select few. I started crawling over him to leave.
He grabbed me by the waist and lay me back down “I have to go!” he looked shocked that I would even say such a thing I asked why he was making that face, “I thought you’d stay, you always would before”
I scoffed “Yeah thats when we were trying to build something emotional” I rolled my eyes and crawled over him again and slid toward the other side of his California King bed. He grabbed my forearm “I’d really like it if you stayed. Please stay. I want to cuddle and fall asleep holding you.”
I froze. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home and fall asleep sprawled out alone in my bed. I’m so bad at saying no to men when they’re being vulnerable like this: aching for some companionship. I rolled my eyes again and went back to my spot in his bed he kissed my forehead “don’t do that. this isn’t that” he looked confused and said “lets just take it a day at a time” I didn’t want to talk so I agreed and turned over.

Would I do it again? Maybe. But I’d prefer it not be as a method of escapism.