I woke up this morning realizing I am wasting away.
I have been totally unproductive at work this week. Well, maybe a little productive, but just enough to avoid any negative opinions about me (hmmm…side note, I really do focus on what others think…I mean, like a lot). But I have been spending a lot of time trying to escape from my life. I mean, in ways that aren’t necessarily good for me, I think.
For example, as much as I hate to admit it, I have spent the last 48 hours – off and on through out my day – exploring and indulging in certain sexual fantasy that I refuse to discuss openly. Don’t worry, it’s nothing that involves hurting woodland creatures or children. But it would probably be considered wrong in a lot of people’s view points. Ultimately, I know it is focused on something I am self-conscious about…or is it? I dunno, it’s not really the point. The point is that it has consumed my thoughts, my mind and my time. And I engaged in it online, in discussion forums, watching certain media that would be…hmmm…naughty. I have been trying to escape. I had a fellow blogger suggest to me that I might be a sexual submissive…if she happened to know what I had been viewing the past few days, she would be convinced. I’m not going into any more detail…
Sex is powerful. And it has certainly led me to use it to escape from many things in life, as well. I even feel it has gone one step further and allowed me to look at relationships from a sexual point of view – the story of my sexuality and understanding it all has certainly convinced me that I have managed to escape from the facts of my life by burying myself into sex and/or relationships. It has led me to believe I do not understand what healthy is for me.
I escape from things. I don’t understand why…
It’s not the only time I’ve done it, but it got me to thinking about the other ways I have managed to avoid my life, ways that I felt I needed to keep my mind occupied so I can handle everything. It brought me back to thinking about drinking beer too and when I truly thought I was an alcoholic. I began to loathe going to AA meetings, because I got sick of hearing people say, “…if it weren’t for this disease, I wouldn’t have done…” Fuck, I hate lack of personal responsibility. If you’re fucked up, you got nothing to blame but yourself. If you fucked up, you fucked up and you need to own that shit. Speaking of owning shit, I’m still drinking, but it’s when I’m away from work and I’m away from everything. I stop on a whim, mostly because I discovered it really doesn’t give me the reprieve I seek in life. I can no longer drown out my thoughts, feelings, emotions and all the other garbage that goes on in my head. I could no longer escape.
This week, I received an email from someone I have been corresponding with about God. On the one hand, I truly appreciate someone wanting to help me out, on the other hand I can’t help but think that what she is really doing is exposing, at least to me, another from of escapism I am doing: wanting a same-sex relationship. She had suggested that part of the reason I am wanting and desiring an intimate relationship with a man, is because I lack one with God, the Father. I can’t help but listen to the compelling argument and it made me contemplate if I am on this current path, this current exploration of my sexuality, my gender identity, my path to understanding myself is really a façade for avoiding all of the responsibilities I should be facing in real life. She hasn’t, directly stated, that my desire to be in love with a man at this point in my life is wrong, but rather she implied that relationships have a way of telling us about our failings in seeking God out as the provider of a good life.
Of course, I could be way off base…but what the fuck do I know?
I have been corresponding to someone else in the past couple of days. He answered a personals ad I have. And you know what? He’s nice. And he seems to want to provide the kind of relationship I think I want. But then again, it is so hard to tell, because I know, deep down, that I am the kind of person that looks for happiness in the wrong places. And it makes me super anxious to even remotely think that this is possible. And then my mind races and I begin to think that this is all a façade too. That I’m still escaping…
Even my blog is an escape…
And all I want to do right now is run…
I want to get fucked.
I want to drink.
I want to get in the car and drive forever.
I want to be loved.
I want to know if there really IS a God.
And I want to be fucked.
And I want to drink.
And I want my mind to stop racing.
And I’m beginning to feel a major fucking panic attack come on.
I’m feeling fucking risky today. And none of it is healthy.
So, I’ll probably eat…
Another way I escape.
I just want it all to stop. I want my mind back. I want control over my life back.
But then again, I want all of the other stuff to make me stop thinking.
A lobotomy? Yes, that would make me stop thinking.
Okay, I’m becoming incoherent in my ramblings. I’m not going to do anything…except eat some fucking Nutter Butter cookies at 4:45 a.m.