Psychiatrist had me take blood tests to establish a baseline, pre-Depakote.
Turns out I tested in the range of hypothyroidism.
So... I have to see a general practitioner [my "primary physician" in the parlance of managed healthcare] to discuss the result of the blood tests and develop a strategy.
If it's true, I'll be taking meds for that, too. It, um, doesn't go away either.
BTW... Hypothyroidism typically means a *diminished* libido.
This is diminished?
Such delicious torture to watch you reveal yourself to me slowly, sliding your blouse from your shoulders then letting it slip to the floor. You turn away from me then bend down to pick it up. I'm beginning to feel uncomfortably warm.
After walking your blouse to the closet, you walk toward me slowly. Gracefully. My eyes follow the curve of your hips, watching them sway through half-lidded eyes.
As you take your last few steps, you've already begun to undo your skirt. You slide your skirt off much more slowly.
You're wearing a garter belt tonight. I knew there was a reason you had a certain look in your eyes all night... but I realized as your skirt slid farther down that I could see no evidence of other undergarments. If only I had known, I might have tried even hard to get under your skirt some how. Surreptitiously sliding my hand along your stockinged leg at every opportune moment. Just for a brush. A tease. A pleasuring.
Your punishment for having neglected to mention that salient fact will not be slight.
And then that beautiful pussy of yours is revealed as you wiggle your hips in an exaggerated effort to be free of your skirt.
You bend forward at the waist as you continue to slide your skirt along the curves of your legs. I see you lift your head to look at me precisely when your cleavage is most prominent. Wicked girl. I also notice it is an effort to breathe slowly. To compensate I am forced to breathe deeply. How you affect me!
Having stepped out of your skirt, finally, one deliberate step at a time, you start to stand up and toss your hair out of the way again to show me your cleavage—still in black lace.
At a certain point, my eyes stop their upward journey and I am riveted. As you slowly turn to walk back to the closet, my eyes travel up again to catch you looking into my eyes for just a moment. Oh, I'm watching. Be certain.
I am treated to your languid walk to and from the closet. You toss your hair this way and that as you take out your earrings. You turn around quickly and seat yourself on my lap.
"Will you set these on the night stand?" You ask. "I can't reach..."
"Of course," I say. Squinting slightly. I look away from your eyes just long enough to grab the earrings and know that I will be setting them in a safe place.
As soon as you see me set them down, you ask, "Would you help me with my bra?"
"Yes," I answer simply. I didn't say when, I realize. My eyes drift down a bit to take you in, watch you breathe. Entertain my options.
With mock seriousness, I agree. "Let's get this horrid thing off of you. A beautiful woman shouldn't need to cover herself like that."
My fingertips are already drifting up your spine to reach the clasp.
"Lean forward, my love," I direct.
With my other hand I brush your neck lightly before gently moving your hair aside. I undo the fastener, then slide my hands along your shoulders to push the bra straps off. Then I lift the straps and hold them forward so that you can slide your arms out. I place the bra on the night stand by the earrings.
I find myself caressing the curves of each of your breasts, lightly tracing over them. Slowly my fingers find their way to your areolas and start gently circling around each nipple. I apply a little more pressure as they change and harden under my touch.
The circling gives way to gentle squeezing. Gentle rolling.
"You know," I say in a casual tone of voice, "I think it's terrible. You didn't mention once that you weren't wearing panties. You know how I love that."
"It didn't... come up..." you say, breathily.
"Hmm. I see."
I begin to squeeze your nipples more firmly now. I'm sure you must feel the firmness in my pants.
I roll your nipples between my fingers, applying even more pressure and pulling now. You inhale sharply and arch your back toward me.
I take advantage of the opportunity to speak with a soft and deep voice right by your ear.
"You must be punished."
A new twist.
I finally managed to get in to my doctor's office today without sleeping through the appointment. And work was even cool about letting me leave in the middle of my day to go. And I still have health insurance.
The appointment went well. I told him that a colleague of my wife's was a therapist and that she told me that I might be bipolar or mixed-bipolar. Bipolar disorder is often characterized as debilitating depression alternating with severe mania in which a person feels powerful, sexual, confident and invincible. The cycles vary with the individual, as does the severity. I tend more toward a more traditional depressive person, but I hover most of the time in a state which is a combination of mania and depression. If that's possible to believe. I have many manic symptoms, but except for those who are very intimate with me, they aren't manifest due to my usual quiet manner. But I suffer from terrible arrogance, irritation at the slowness of others, a sense of hurry-up-let's-go-go-go, overblown irritation with no provocation, and mood swings like you wouldn't believe. Oh, so healthy. All the while feeling horrible despair, hopelessness and isolation. It's almost a wonder I've made it to 35 .
Well anyway, between that and my addiction, it's crazy that I have managed as well as I have for so long—that I even still am in a relationship when all I really wanted was to be alone with my porn.
Well anyway, I told the doctor about a lot of stuff I hadn't even mentioned before. He took lots of notes and asked lots of questions and ended up prescribing the drug I wanted to ask for anyway. So Depakote was added to my regimen.
It does a lot of stuff. It's used as an anti-seizure medication, a med for people who suffer from migraines, and it's a mood stabilizer for people who have my tendency to travel the mood spectrum once or more during a given day. Plus... it has antidepressant and/or stimulant qualities in some. Win/win for me.
I have to say, it felt damned good to be my own advocate for once. I feel a little sadness that it's taken so long for me to learn this, but, as one excellent human pointed out to me, I did learn it. And I did it. So here's to hoping that it's going to help me out. I will observe that, after taking my first dose which is only an eighth of the typical therapeutic dose, I feel... *better.*
I haven't for two weeks and 4 days.
I'm not bragging, I'm just saying. All it means is that other than for hygienic reasons, I have not touched the head of my cock. I've still looked a pr0n a few times. And I have read some very erotic and powerful words. And maybe written a few.
It's very hard to resist the urge to masturbate. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment by keeping this site alive but I do feel a strong connection with bloggers Ive linked to or who have linked to me. And I do desire maintaining a strong personal connection.
A big reason for my reduced online presence of late is that I fear falling into the same old routine of sleep deprivation due to excessive masturbation. There's nothing wrong with masturbating, it's just that I seem to have a great deal of trouble controlling it. And by not masturbating, I have removed a source of tremendous personal guilt and shame.
I don't lust or crave any less. Believe me. But I am learning a lot about myself, and I believe that is helping me to be able to make thoughtful decisions about what I really want to do.
But sometimes I want to let lust roll me and take over again. I want a fix. Crave it badly.
The words I read speak to me powerfully. I really don't have words to express. I don't have an outlet for some of the things I feel, some of the things I've never done. The want right now is so powerful it feels like a need.
And travel. Well, it's not an option right now. But I swear you'll be the first to know if it ever is.
I'm going to bed now. I'm praying for a mercifully short time awake there, because I want.
My finger continues slowly and lightly tracing around the base of your neck to the front.
Then down, again, lightly tracing over your chest. Over your blouse. And still down.
I take my hand away slowly, and stand straight.
Quietly I step back, then walk to the chair and sit down again.
I cross my legs again and meet your gaze.
You toss your hair again and shift your weight to one leg, emphasizing your curves, then begin to unbutton your blouse.
I stood quickly, but smoothly. And began moving over the carpet toward you. My eyes travel up to meet yours, then back down.
I walk around you, appraising. And pause behind you, stepping close.
I feel your heat. I smell the perfume rising off of you.
You turn your head a little—to see me out of your peripheral vision.
Tucking your hair behind your ear, I lean closer.
I whisper, "Do you know what we do to bad girls?" — and trace lightly with my finger from your ear down your neck.
Well, the good news is that I have a contracting gig for the next six weeks, provided I cut it tomorrow.
This one looks to be a little more my speed, with actual IT duties.
I plan to amaze. It's allegedly a dress-casual environment, but I'm going to wear a tie and a tweed-colored houndstooth check jacket [It's OK, the pattern is really small, you would have to invade my personal space to be able to see it. I wouldn't mind.]
If I like it and if they like me, it could turn into a contract-to-hire position. It's a bit of a drive, but the pay is almost as good as what I left... So that's OK.
Oh, yeah! I start tomorrow (I just found out at like 4:30 this afternoon!), and my hours are 7:30-4:00. =:0
Wish me luck!
"What do you think I'm going to tell you to do next?"
"What do I get if I guess right?"
"I think I'd be more worried about what don't I get if I didn't"
"If I guess wrong does that make me bad?"
"You were bad before you walked in here."
"I thought you liked that."
"I do." I said, smiling. "But you're evading the question."
Who knew I would find an alternative prehistory so fascinating that I would be reading until 2:00 AM?
Yeah, I'm not really surprised either...
Except that time flies. That one always catches me off-guard.
Even in the dim light it was a joy to watch you move.
The way you placed your legs.
The way your hips swayed.
The way you tossed your hair over your shoulder when you turned to face me, wondering what was going to come out of my mouth next.
Partially because I didn't want you to know what would come next, but mostly because I think it's hot, I said "The shoes stay on."
You gave me one of those looks—the defiant one that says "Oh? Really?"
I hear you walking slowly down the hallway. I can picture the sway of your hips that matches that step.
When you open the door to the darkened room, you turn to reach for the light switch.
"Leave the light off."
"Why?" You ask.
"Shh. Close the door."
"What?"
"I said, 'Leave the light off' and 'Close the door.' Now."
Your eyes finally locate me across the room. I'm seated with my arms crossed in my lap. My legs are crossed casually at the knee.
"Walk toward the bed," I direct.
Is a dangerous thing.
I keep learning more.
I wonder...
If you would see it in my eyes.
Illicit
Whispers
Breathed
Close
Has always been for love, acceptance and healing.
It is possible to get these from a relationship, but really it's a too-tall order. I've realized that I have to be able to give those things to myself before I can really give them to others. Otherwise I am just needy. A bottomless pit that can't be patched over.
I want so much for someone else to fix me, heal me.
But I know. It's my own damn fault.
Yes. Yes you are.
I'm reminded of the last few moments of North By Northwest...
Wherein the long train enters the long tunnel.
One track mind?
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It's hard for me to look at you and not think about sex.
Among other reasons why I used to masturbate so much... there was the promise of drifting almost immediately into oblivion.
No racing thoughts... just "lights out."
Nothing worse than thoughts racing... it gives you the opportunity to explore everything that's wrong within the space of a few short minutes. And then, then obsessive wondering what I should have done differently or worrying that I have time to resolve an issue before some terrible consequence befalls me.
Sometimes I could go to that escapist place and fantasize. Dream the dream of the moment, revising it each time so that it becomes more perfect.
Or I could relive some embarrassing moment from my past that I've revisited a thousand times before.
But if I masturbated, when I layed myself on the mattress I might see a few random pornographic images in my minds eye... and then nothing. Sweet, sweet nothing.
Wasn't the main reason I masturbated, but I liked that side-effect.
Meanwhile, I've been trying to change some of those thought patterns. If I obsess about a problem, I do try to break it into parts that on their own do seem possible to fix.
I try to not be so ridiculous with the fantasies. I try to see through them to what it is I really think I'm looking for.
And I still remember those embarrasing things from ancient and recent past. Except now I try to be much gentler with myself. I remind myself that I learned and what I learned, that the moment is past, and that it's OK to let go.
But I won't go limp in yours.
Two fingers inside you, massaging your G-spot while my tongue caresses your clitoris just so?
If I said that I didn't want to bury my face between your legs to give you a tongue-lashing.
I've been doing a lot of self-analysis. I know you find that to be shocking, but it's true.
I've found that one pattern of thought that I have that's dangerous is when I start to dwell on how the world is unfair to me—in other words, when I indulge in self-pity. Now, in moments when I am more rational, like now, I know damned well that my life ain't so terrible and I know that I am my own harshest judge.
But when I think that way, when I get angry about the world and how I just can't possibly ever fit in, that's red flag time. That's when I'm on the slippery slope. The more I think that way, the more alone I feel. I am more likely to self-medicate and feel guilt about it. I am more likely to withdraw. Withdrawing amplifies my feelings of aloneness, amplifies my wish to numb myself, and amplifies my guilt over my lack of self-control. I can pass very deeply into this self-loathing in a very short time. And it's more than a little like free-fall, because it accelerates.
I'm working on the skills and the bravery to reach out when I need help. It has been a challenge for me because of my delusional belief that if I was strong, I could handle all of my problems on my own. Thank God there are sane and helpful people all around me! Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to tell you this.
Another painful truth I've learned about myself is that I crave connections with people—more specifically approval from people as a validation of my self worth. I have for a long time wanted to look easy-going and care-free. But the more you know me, the more deceptive you know this is. I worry a lot about what people think of me and I feel a great deal of anxiety about appearing foolish in front of people. I have typically chosen to distance myself from people rather than humiliate myself in public. And then I regret that I ran away and I chastise myself for being weak. Or I regret that I didn't stand up for myself to avoid confrontation and chastise myself for being weak. I have had tons of regrets for things I haven't done in my life.
That's part of why I wanted to live a life of debauchery when I started writing this blog. Somehow I thought that if I could lose my inhibitions and live through it, I would come out of the experience stronger and wiser. The other compelling reason was to numb myself through continual gratification. I was aware of this last on some level, but consciously I chose to deny it.
The point is that through self-gratification followed by self-loathing, followed by self-gratification, and through escapist fantasy induced by self-loathing and followed by self-gratification, and through behavior-modification because of seeking validation outside myself, I have very effectively cut myself off from the world. I have distanced myself so far and shut myself down so tightly that I have almost no idea what my true desires are. I have almost no idea what my true emotions are.
I have channeled anger and raged and lashed out when this protective coating was been threatened, or pre-emptively to hurt someone else first. This has been a device of self-protection. A manifestation of my deepest fears of rejection and of being alone. The anger I display is typically disproportionately large compared to whatever slight I perceive.
Another brilliant side of my personality is a constant edginess and impatience and irritation with others. This is one thing over which I feel no control. I can sense that it's happening, but I haven't been able to prevent myself from saying things I almost instantly regret. This last may be symptomatic of bipolar disorder or simply of depression. It's possible medication could alleviate this problem, but that remains to be seen. It may just be up to me to learn healthy ways to cope.
I know that in writing this, I covered ground I've been on before in some ways. Only now I begin to understand how connected these things are and how early in my life some of these feelings began. I know that I am responsible for my reactions. What I'm teaching myself is that the reaction to all things does not need to be intense self-hatred. The thought process is deeply ingrained and it's proving difficult to eradicate because it keeps sneaking back in new ways.
Many of you have written very supportive things to me. I am deeply grateful. Thank you, all of you, for your understanding!
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I woke up this morning completely unable to think about anything other than sex. I'm not complaining, mind you, I'm just saying.
How wonderful it is to wake up slowly, luxuriating in warmth and comfort, bodies in contact. Sometimes squirming into silly positions. Sometimes being the one holding. Sometimes being held. Listening to breaths and heartbeats.
Feeling the sun through the window.
Fingers through hair.
Touching hopefully, sometimes to tease, to test.
And then surrendering entirely to the moment.
And after, luxuriating in warmth and comfort, bodies in contact.
I just want to eat you up!
Do you dare me?
It's a strange transition to go from having work to having no work. I'm no better prepared for it this last time than I was any of the previous times. So I feel a little loopy and out of sorts. I'll get better.
Neither of the consulting firms that I've talked to have anything for me. So maybe it's time to go to the temp agencies. I doubt I would make nearly as much, but I need to work. I refuse to lose my house, my car, or my 'net connection.
I was able to consolidate several bills onto a low-rate credit card. Hallelujah for that! Beats the hell out of having creditors call. And I'll take 2.9% interest over 27.9% penalty rates any day. Note to self: buying things never works to fill up the hole. Try another strategy.
In response to Eden's list of reasons one might blog, I'm all about numbers 12, 22, 26, 34, and 35. Frankly, I don't know that it would be possible for me to make the sort of connections that I've made without it. This is an important part of my life and I don't want it to end.
In other self-analytical news, I've realized that one of the reasons I desire so much solitude is that I feel no pressure to be any certain way when I'm alone. I have a tendency to shape myself based on what I perceive to be one's expectations of me—and therefore I come to feel constrained and false, even in intimate relationships.
I suspect the reason for this is because of my relationship with my parents as a child. It was not safe at home to reveal my honest feelings. Or at least, I never felt that it was even if it did become safe. So I have hidden myself away from basically everyone. I will tell you things that I tell no one else, but that still may not mean you know everything.
It's not like I'm completely false to people, it's just that I tend to only show them what I know they like and stifle the rest—good or bad.
I no longer wish to only feel safe by myself. It's a very lonely place to be. And it's going to be a very hard place to leave.
Announcing http://www.blackasmysoul.com/
My registrar has a lovely identification protection service, so getting my own domain seemed like the thing to do.
All links to me at the Typepad domain will still work, of course, as the site has not physically moved, but all of my internal links have been updated to reflect my domain name.
I hope so!
But seriously, I may be announcing a new domain shortly...
Depends.
Can I link to you?
Today is the last day on my current contract, so I'm now accepting bids.
Let me know if there's anything you'll pay me to do.
;)
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!
If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!
How grammatically sound are you?
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Happy Moon Day!
Gift of life from the god Ra.
I didn't miss it.
Beautiful.
I think of you
And I desire
To fill you
It's not possible, is it, for someone to know all the right words?
I wouldn't have dared to dream it.
Drums. Music. Sex. Spicy food.
Simple things.
I have the desire to be creative, but I usually balk when faced with a blank page or screen.
Because... I have spent my life with shields up.
I decided early in my childhood to shut down and clamp up. The best way to get through was to figure out what everyone around me wanted and to be that. In the face of making decisions for myself, on my own, I feel lost. Adrift. Afraid.
I should just get over it, right? I mean, it's been years since my mother was towering over me yelling and striking. I just never grew out of that.
"I touch no one and no one touches me."
Heh
I have my pr0n and my blogging to protect me...
It might be funny if it wasn't so sad.
So how do I reconnect with myself after so long? I have a feeling it's going to be a bumpy ride.
See?
There's that feeling again.
Goes straight to my cock.
What would a nipple ring feel like on my tongue?
You knew I wanted to see.
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