Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Coming Out . . . OVER and OVER Again
I'm struggling under the weight of a lot of things right now. Nothing that should be debilitating, but the end result is that I've been acting almost completely disabled. Money problems, health problems, overwhelming-to-do-list problems, incompetency problems . . . you know, life.
The struggle on my mind right now is trying to figure out how much energy to expend on conservative friends and family who have issues with my work and/or with my partner being a transwoman
. Not that they know that word. And I should be patient because how many people DO? It's not THEIR fault, right?
And with me being in the kind of relationship where I even USE the term "my partner". My girlfriend. My not-a-man not-a-husband not-a-boyfriend.
My mom has been struggling with how to tell HER mom (my grandma) and her born-again-Christian-asshole brother (my uncle) so I haven't even seen my grandma in way over a year.God, it makes me tired even trying to blog about this bullshit.
Now one of my step-brothers, the one I WANT to be in touch with a little, is coming out with his family for a visit next month. My mom visited them in Pennsylvania last year before the election and came back so disturbed by his wacko right-wingerism that she doesn't really even want to see them again (AND didn't even want to get into the basics of telling him anything about my controversial-to-them "lifestyle").
Delia's family in the Midwest still doesn't know about her transition. We had a plan for telling them that we cooked up with her therapist who said that ideally you shouldn't break the news in a letter, but face to face. We tried to get them to come out here last year so Delia would meet them at the airport presenting as a male (a concept that now seems totally ludicrous, uncomfortable and weird to me), she'd sit down with them and tell them all about it, the next day she'd present as a woman, and we'd all go see the therapist so they could learn about transgender. A nice idea, but there's no way to lure them out here when the REST of Delia's family is in the Midwest and her dad can't take time off work; it just makes more sense for us to visit them there.
So Delia's parents offered to buy us tickets to come out for a visit, like, RIGHT NOW. It would work out perfectly for the whole coming-out-face-to-face (except we wouldn't be able to take them to our counselor) BUT Delia already changed her name so in order for them to buy a ticket she could actually get on a plane with, she'd need them to know ahead of time her real femme name (or we'd have to buy the tickets ourselves which we can't afford to do right now). So after some soul-searching and discussion she decided to write a letter which she's still working on.
As the word "transition" implies, it's a process. And part of that process is . . . all of this bullshit of informing, educating, explaining, confronting, and dealing with loved ones and not-so-loved ones.
It made me feel sad when my mom said she doesn't know if she wants to see my brother / can't handle his fucked-up views. And I know it makes HER sad, too, but I feel like it will only be a few hours and it would be wrong to shut him out completely. I wouldn't say this about my other stepbrothers or about my ex-stepdad, but this brother? I would. So I wrote him and his wife an email about "my lifestyle" so they wouldn't be hit with surprises and wouldn't ask about my job in person if they aren't comfortable hearing me talk about what it really is (and told them, in short form, that I make adult websites). And the wheels are turning and they're paying lip service to not judging other people, but copping to being "REALLY conservative". And expressing concern over their seven year old daughter. He doesn't want her to have to "learn too much about life" at this tender age. Like, what aspect of life does he feel he needs to shelter her from or that I'm going to so-inappropriately expose her to?
As usual I can't help comparing my apparently depraved lifestyle with other people in our family and in Delia's family. In both of our families there are those who have HUGE problems with my job, yet think nothing of letting the children be around people in the family who've actually sexually molested other family members. Nobody objects to the lifestyle of the family members who worked for the chemical company that made Napalm and Agent Orange
and other killers and cancer-causers. When I had a husband who worked for Boeing, it never bothered anybody in the slightest (including me) that a family member worked for a company that makes machines of war. Their job is something to be proud of, but MY job is a big, scary, society-eating disease. Excuse me, but as much as you try to fallaciously connect porn depicting consensual sex and non, I DIDN'T DO THIS TO KIDS
. Not even close. My brother doesn't have a problem with his kids being around one of his other brothers who has stolen cars and served in Iraq and laughs with glee at videos of US soldiers beating and kicking the shit out of Iraqis. But oh, GOD!! WHAT will we tell the children about Trixie and her tranny girlfriend or that she has a job making grown-ups feel pleasure?
I know it's hard, but it's not THAT hard. Especially given the truly fucked up things that people are perfectly willing to ignore, live with and even brag about. He's a soldier! He's a chemical engineer! He works for the military industrial complex!!
So easy to boast about. And even those other people who have actually HURT people -- kids -- get the benefit of the doubt: He deserves a second chance.
But how many people boast about "my daughter, the pornographer!"? Actually, my mom does and my dad did. In small amounts, but still. They are extra ballsy and good. And I guess if all these little things are hard, I still have that to be extra specially grateful for and don't know what I'd do without it.
It would be easier in the short run to just say we're going to be busy. Too busy to see my step-brother and his family. Too busy to fly out to the Midwest. Too busy to communicate on any deeper level with old friends than filling out those email quizzes about what our favorite colors and drinks are and coming up with a different reason than the real one for the last thing that made us cry.
I could do that (and have and still will to some extent), but sometimes you have to TRY. Because they're family or because you really need a better reason than fear and exhaustion to sever ties with them. No, you have to try your hardest to be patient with their ignorance and fears and confusion (thankfully people have been patient with MINE). You have an obligation to make yourself fucking vulnerable to being told that what you do -- whether it's selling pictures of your beaver on the internet or it's defying the status quo of letting your genitals define your gender or it's being in a non-straight relationship -- that you're destroying the moral fibre of the country, tearing families apart, degrading humanity, and damaging our sensitive youngsters and oldsters who shouldn't be EXPOSED to our depravity and perversion in their fragile mental and physical states!
You have to be gentle with them while they insult you and beg for your protection. Oh but mom is just too old to understand . . . oh god, I just don't want to upset Grandma
Seriously? These women have televisions and they've all HAD SEX. When I'm in my eighties I hope people don't think I'm too stupid to understand new shit or that I can't handle knowing that some women charge men money to get their dicks hard. I think they can handle it, and if they can't? OH WELL. I wish someone would protect OUR feelings for a change. Like maybe not insulting the girl on the television for having "too masculine of a jaw" right when you're sitting next to my trans girlfriend who might feel self-conscious enough as it is about her OWN masculine jaw. Like maybe not saying that I'm going to warp your seven year old when YOU are the one warping her with your stupid, bigoted views.
I know I'm being a baby to complain about it because so many people have had it so much worse, but I'm *sick* of coming out to people and trying to hold their hands through the process when I just want to scream at them. It feels like such a gigantic waste of time and energy for me, personally, when I don't even LIKE socializing with people. But I know it's not healthy to take the easy way out and be isolated. I know that talking to people makes a difference, not just to us, but in teaching tolerance and understanding on a broader level.
Basically I just feel bogged down. Getting together with family is expensive enough, emotionally & financially, and communicating with old friends that you aren't sure you have anything in common with anymore takes enough of a toll, that having to pay all these extra costs is really draining. It's like walking through a field of land mines every time you connect with someone who doesn't know who you are and what you're doing lately. Are they going to freak out or pat me on the back and laugh? Should I brace myself for them to say something inadvertently hurtful or let myself trust them to be wiser than that?
Once I started writing this blog entry I realized that the most important thing we can do when it comes to friends and family right now is to cultivate our relationships with people who FUCKING GET IT. Our porn friends, our trans friends, our not-so-straight friends. I'm not very socially energetic but there's no way I can cope with some people's bullshit without having the comfort of other people's understanding and similarities. And I can't help sort of resenting the amount of energy I'm putting into the one camp when I could be pouring it into the other. OR WORK.
Jesus, I can't afford this bullshit. Including my own -- all I want to do is sleep and read and eat and listen to music. I feel sort of guilty and wretched and oh-so fucking tired.
Labels: aging, education, emotions, family, fears, friends, my trans partner, rants, sex work, work, worse than porn
Sunday, June 07, 2009
June Moon (PIC)
I remember working swing shift as one of the very best times in my life. I'd get off work between midnight and two in the morning and drive home in the dark experiencing the magic of RIGHTNESS, of everything having fallen into place and a lifelong problem being solved. That schedule didn't make everything perfect, of course, but it was a magical gift that explained part of my life and who I am to me and let me know that things CAN fall into place. It's one thing to complain vociferously about not being a morning person and another thing to be lucky enough to NOT HAVE TO BE. To experience yourself operating at maximum efficiency and enjoy your favorite parts of the day and night, skipping the parts that have never worked for you. To function so much better that you've got PROOF that this "night person" thing is real.
I'm at a point in my life where I need a new swing shift. My gears have been out of sync for years now and I keep looking for some little twinkly adjustment I can make that will fix things. I've given myself a bunch of tuneups and they've been eye-opening and helpful, but I'm desperate to feel something like the smooth, peaceful rightness of driving home on a nearly-empty freeway with the windows rolled down in the summer, smelling everything asleep and reveling in being awake, ready to go home and make a simple dinner for myself. The answer isn't making myself work from four to midnight now, either - I don't live alone anymore and I don't want to; I want to go to bed WITH Delia
(not a night person, so we compromise). I feel like I've tried everything and suspect the answer is that I need more time to be completely alone with myself, without the sounds of anybody else, without being seen or heard by anyone watching . . . just totally removed from everybody's sounds and presence.
Last week I allowed myself the luxury of staying up all night long playing with TrixieRadio
- listening to music, downloading new stuff and uploading it to the station . . . amusing myself and accomplishing something that has no monetary pay-off in the near future and is absolutely NOT what I should be spending huge blocks of time doing. But I miss listening to music. REALLY MISS IT. I am not someone who can work AND listen to music with words, so it's not an option for me to multitask. Besides, I don't want to. I want to do nothing but listen. NOTHING BUT. So I did, all night long, and organized my .mp3's and made lists of cd's I still need to rip and read about music and made a blog entry begging for money
to justify doing it more. Being up all night doing that made me feel a little more like myself. And I finally bought an adaptor that provides phantom power for my months-old new microphone so I can personalize things more and potentially make more sales through the "radio" thing and podcasting. If I can figure out the perfect settings for recording with this microphone (one of those detail-oriented time-sucking tasks that annoys the shit out of me that I usually invest a couple of hours in then decide it's not worth it / I should wait for a better time to do it / I have more important things to do).
I've been retreating a lot more into our guest room, off cam and alone, which has been helpful but maybe I'm still not committed enough to it to really reap the benefits of it. I feel guilty about it and still can't get enough. I haven't figured out how to integrate my need for solitude with work and my relationship with Delia. She's really tolerant and understanding of my limitations in this area so it's me that needs to work out the kinks alone along with continuing to figure out how to succeed at being my own boss. You'd think after seven years I'd be an expert, but I'm still an amateur (both at working for myself and being in a relationship). A lot of things have changed for the better in the past year but I'm still struggling to find daily "rightness". I get glimmers of it, but very inconsistently; for everything I resolve to do better, something else falls by the wayside. It's like there's a never-ending rotation of things I do well and things I fuck up -- every day, every week, every month, every quarter, every year the same fucking challenges just trade places with each other. I make progress but only temporarily before regressing. I feel like I haven't CONQUERED anything in years and I'm pretty fucking sick of it. I try to be patient with myself, recognizing I've had some really fucked-up health problems and am still fine-tuning "curing" myself. Recognizing the economy sucks so it's not entirely my fault that we're on this debt merry-go-round.
The shitty thing is that having a positive attitude means feeling empowered and taking responsibility to fix stuff -- believing it's POSSIBLE to make things better; I'm just really really REALLY tired of the burden. Sometimes I just wish I could drive home and let my boss figure it out in the morning and tell me what to do when I go to work and know that it's not my fault if that was the wrong thing. Part of me loves how I've complicated my life and that I *don't* have a boss, but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST sometimes I miss having things be simple. I miss having someone else to blame. I miss not really caring about my job. That used to make me feel trapped, having to go to work for a certain number of hours and not doing anything even remotely creative. Now? I feel trapped because I *do* care about my job(s). Because it's rare that I get to establish a rhythm doing something simple for 6-8 hours. I can't quit because I love my work, but I have no idea when (if ever) I'll be able to do my job BETTER and not just feel like I'm running on a treadmill. A treadmill that lurches and changes speeds unpredictably and is just like . . . possessed with multiple personalities. There's no water-cooler where I can stand around bitching about my boss and how if I ran things I'd do them differently/better. I mean, I can do that, but it's not really good for my self-esteem. I am my own worst boss/enemy and I'm so. TIRED of it.
I keep slogging along, promising myself that if we just get rid of our debt we'll be able to AFFORD to establish some rhythms and magic swing shifts but right now we seriously do not have the money to do anything efficiently. Not shooting, not marketing, not exercising . . . not even fucking GROCERY shopping. Every day is a schizo fucking mess and I'm just so sleeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. Not as bad as I was before, but still . . . some days are pretty bad while I'm fine tuning different birth control pills, supplements, figuring out just how much fucking with my blood sugar I can get away with, etc.
Fuck it. I am going to order a pizza.Sorry for the downer of a post. Things are good, I just needed to whine a little bit.
Labels: depression, emotions, memories, money, music, night person, night photography, PHOTOS, priorities, privacy, webwhore insights, work
Friday, May 29, 2009
A couple of new blog links for you:Cum 2 Oasis Blog
I just added Oasis' blog to my links and wanted to point her out to you. If you're interested in knowing all of the groundbreakers in internet porn -- people who had amateur sex sites before there were role models for such things -- read her blog because Oasis is one of a small handful of them.
She's one of those legendary people in *my* circle of do-it-yourself porn people, and has a hands-on, hardcore approach of swinging, fucking fans, flashing, gang bangs, interracial and party girl antics.
Another new addition to my blogroll:Born Whore
I don't know much about her (yet) except that she's doing sex work in Australia. I was introduced to her recently through tweets linking to this post she made -- It's You I'm Afraid Of
-- that made me cry because so many parts of it rang so true for me, especially since I've been trying for the past few months to reconnect with family and friends and acquaintances from high school and college, some of them cops, many of them religious, loads of them Republicans, and a few others "liberal" (yes, in quotation marks).
"Folks want to be supportive but sometimes they donít get it and thatís OK. I donít expect people to know everythingóIím still learning too! But you should know that when you donít get it, it can really sting or, Iíll be honest, irritate the shit out of me.
So itís you that I sometimes protect myself from. Itís you who I will avoid or go silent with because I just donít want to deal with how disappointed I feel. Itís you that I write for and to. Itís you that I want on my side. You are the ones whoís judgments, stereotypes, awkward silences and ill-informed questions I watch out for. Itís you Iím afraid of."
Labels: emotions, fears, friends, links, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, sex work, webwhore insights
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Schedule Change for IDOL!!!
A quick announcement for members and fans of our webcam shows: I moved Wednesday night's shows to Friday night. Why? Because I realized they were scheduled at the same time as the American Idol finale and with us on the west coast there could be people in our chatrooms who'd already watched it and I CANNOT ABIDE HEARING SPOILERS.
This is especially true with tv the past two or three months which has been exceptionally good to my fat American mind. Dollhouse, Gossip Girl, Top Model, Idol, Hell's Kitchen . . . I've been eating the cheese and acting like a sucker tearing up on command. The competition shows are so much better when you like all of the finalists. We might not be having a lot of sex, but who wants to watch us fucking on our spycams when you can watch me crying and squealing like a sissy-girl over CHUCK AND BLAIR and ADAM AND KRIS and ALLISON AND TEYONA!?! It's a more degrading scene than if I invited a gang of carnies over and gave their greasy unwashed asses enthusiastic rim jobs on cam with a needle half-full of junk sticking out of my arm. Now THAT'S entertainment! Oh Chuck those pink flowers and your green coat Blair and that dress and I worship and adore you and your stockings too yumyumyum I love it when you cry you're so beautiful when you weep and I love you TOOOOOO!
As if that wasn't enough, as a bonus for our voyeurs tonight I also cried watching Dolly Parton sing "Backroads Barbie" AND I cried earlier this afternoon when I finished reading The Westing Game
(how did I miss that as a youngster? IT ROCKS!).
Being on a higher-estrogen birth control pill is so sweeeeeeeeeeeet. Sweet and salty with my tears, like a big bag of kettle korn.
Other than that I'm working on a simple (but time-consuming) revamp of the free area of TastyTrixie.com. So I can maybe hope to, you know, make some sales. So far this year has been full of optimism because I finally figured out how fucked up my endocrine system has been and how sick I was. It's frustrating, though, that even though I feel way better, my life didn't instantly become perfect once I started feeling better physically. It's like I have years worth of old work to do to get caught up let alone move forward. That's been pretty depressing on top of the economy (I know many of you are feeling my pain or worse in that department). I'm constantly making steps to improve, though, and feel massively blessed to have the awesomest girlfriend in the world
and also feel the support of people who know me online, especially our members.
I still have a long way to go, but I am becoming a more patient person. More patient with myself and the world and everyone in it. You still wouldn't call me "patient", but I know I am MORE patient than I was a year ago. That's enough for me to be proud of today.And even with all of that reading and tv watching and a good stretch this morning, I still worked eight concentrated hours and twenty-seven minutes. How do I know that? BECAUSE I AM KEEPING TRACK.
Labels: announcements, depression, emotions, health, hormones, money, television, webcam shows, work
Friday, April 03, 2009
Mud Wrap Bondage
The other day I treated myself to a trip to the spa
as a reward for being 33% of the way to my June 1st weight loss goal. I decided to get a body wrap
for health reasons (it helps you detox) and out of curiosity since I'd never done it.
I knew going into it that I *might* really hate being wrapped up like a mummy and mostly-immobilized for forty minutes, but I also knew I *might* really enjoy it and, at the very least, could endure it without feeling as though I'd been placed in a straitjacket.
By the time my appointment rolled around at 4 pm I'd been soaking, sweating, reading, and steaming at the spa since 10 am (I should've made my body wrap & massage appointment beforehand but was afraid to in case I couldn't figure out how to pay for it or wanted to do something else instead so 4 pm was the earliest they could get me in) and was GIDDY with anticipation.
The girl explained what was in the mud (mugwort, seaweed and a bunch of other stuff I can't recall), instructed me to disrobe and sit on the massage table (on top of a sheet of plastic on top of a metallic emergency blanket on top of MORE blankets) with my back to her. She warned me to expect the mud to be fairly "warm" because it cools off so quickly, then she started slathering hot goop on my shoulders, back, and arms. She had me lie down after that so she could apply it to the rest of my body. Right before she smeared it on my boobs, she prepared me to anticipate the touch in a nursey-kindergarten voice: I'll just apply some to your breasts now . . . (circle, circle)
After she got it all over me except RIGHT between my legs, the soles of my feet and my face, she closed the plastic around me, then the reflective blanket, then the other blankets and towels until I was thoroughly cocooned with only my head sticking out. She asked if I wanted a pillow or for her to bring water or tea when she came back to check on me in ten minutes. Then she turned out the lights (as I requested) and left me alone in the dark, unable to move. AND TRAPPED WITH A TERRIBLE CD OF ROMANTIC/NEW-AGEY GUITAR MUSIC CRAP.
The first ten minutes were pleasant (except for the hideous music). I didn't even attempt to move, afraid I would make myself itchy and be unable to scratch myself. I could see how easily I could become panicked if the slightest carnival-ride twist had been added to it (it WAS April Fool's Day, after all). Like if she'd laughed maniacally before she left and I could hear the door being locked from the outside. Or if weird scrubby things began to descend from the ceiling towards me. Or if the walls just started shrinking inwards. I kept my eyes closed JUST IN CASE so I wouldn't have to see anything like that happening. Or if a man with a bunch of surgical tools were to simply walk in, bend over my face and start whispering at me you can't move you can't move you can't get away from me or my tools!
and just put his hands heavily on my chest.
So yeah . . . this might help explain to you PART of why I'm not interested in being bound. Because it would be way too fucking easy for someone to scare me psycho. I can happily lie motionless for hours, but FORCE me to -- restrict my mobility -- and I might freak the fuck out. Part of me can appreciate the appeal, imagine experimenting with it under very specific conditions, and be tempted by the psychological challenge of it and another part of me just thinks the (psychological) risk is not at all worth the scariness. I feel the same way about LSD. It sounds really interesting but I think I might be a little too vulnerable to bad side effects. The body wrap at the women-only spa is about as far as I can go.
One time I did let someone bind my hands behind my back with his leather belt (a natural outgrowth to him of my spanking and man's-leather-belt fetish, but to me it was just not the direction I was interested in going once I was face down on his bed -- it was crazily exciting, but the fear of having my arms locked behind me that way and of him possibly being able to put his weight on me and smother me was just too fucking freaky for me and I begged for mercy so it didn't last long. I was far more interested in being whipped with the belt (but not to the point of bruising or bleeding), but he wasn't so much into that so that little experiment didn't last very long. I know that some of you are thinking I just didn't do it with the RIGHT person, someone I TRUST. But the point is a) my imagination doesn't trust ANYBODY, and b) testing my boundaries on this is NOT as important to me as preserving them. For a whole lot of reasons. Thinking about it is provocative, but I am (and always have been) more interested in having force applied to me in a psychological way (and even more so applying it to others) in ridiculous role plays. I like being bound by RULES and structure. I like things that happen inside my HEAD way more than things that happen to my body. Or maybe I'm just lazy. I don't know. Woops. Now that I've written this I can recall a few different instances where I've been bound in different ways and liked it. Hmmmm . . . still, not exactly my "thing".
Back to the spa.
The first time the girl came in to check on me she brought me tea with a straw that she lowered to my mouth. I wasn't prepared for it and giggled because THAT is totally hot to me, being treated like an invalid. I wasn't prepared and dribbled tea down the side of my face, then I got her to change the CD to a variety of new agey music I enjoy -- Shamanic Dreams or something like that. She asked if the level of heat was okay (yes - warm and cozy) and again if I wanted a pillow (this time? yes).
When she left I decided to try to sleep since I'd only gotten three hours the night before. And sleep I did, for a few minutes. Let me tell you, it was NOT pleasant waking up mummified, sweating like a pig in a strange dark room with weird pagan drum music going on. I decided not to go to sleep again and couldn't wait for her to come back. When she did I asked for the heat to be turned down. She did, and blotted the sweat from my forehead and cheeks with a cool cloth (yummmmm . . . more pampered-invalid feelings). I wanted to ask her if anybody had ever lost control of their bowels while getting a wrap but decided against it, fearing she'd think I was planning something disgusting. Still, the thought was entertaining. I know SOMEONE, somewhere has done that on accident or on purpose, and I'd really love to hear about it.Note: I'm far more likely to experiment with and enjoy shitting in a warm, plastic-wrapped bed than with being tied up. Just an FYI. I don't PLAN on doing either, but a warm bed of crap seriously sounds more fun to me than letting someone tie me up. Maybe I'm just a loner with a short attention span, though, and wallowing in my own poop is an experience I could live fully in five to ten minutes by myself whereas the whole bondage scene requires time and at least one other person. I guess there are some things I could do to myself, but again, I'm too lazy and disinterested for that. Plus, scat is just a whole lot edgier than bondage and I like the idea of being able to make people think by gleefully confessing I've shat myself for the pure, HAMRLESS fun of it. It's stupid, but poop is so much more taboo (and illegal/obscene) than bondage these days. Again, I HAVE NO PLANS TO DO THAT. I'm just comparing/contrasting. For fun.
Anyway, I survived the last twenty minutes without losing my mind, going back and forth between feeling blissed-out and on-the-verge of screaming, "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" I kept reminding myself of what good "exercise" it was for me and how much healthier I'd be afterwards. I worried that I'd be so sick of lying there that I wouldn't enjoy my massage afterwards (but it actually worked the other way, made the massage seem longer and way better). Basically I endured the procedure a little bit more than I enjoyed it. If I get a body wrap again I will definitely bring my own cd with guided meditations or something so my mind won't wander to torture scenes.
Finally she came in to unwrap me and I went down the hall naked to the shower with the glass-door making my clean-up efforts visible to anyone who walked by. I decided to pee in the shower instead of wasting my massage time putting on a robe and traipsing down to the restroom, but I worried about it, wondering how many other people do/don't pee in the post-wrap shower, worrying that there'd be some way they'd know I did and would talk about that disgusting customer with the long toenails who peed in the shower. Silly fears, but still. I have them. Which goes to show you just how very VERY far away I am from ever pooping in a plastic-wrap cocoon.
After the anxiety of the day BEFORE the spa and the super-extended stay I had there, I was in recovery mode all day yesterday, totally drained and exhausted and verging on a big fat headache. If you've never gotten body work, steamed, soaked, detoxed, etc. then you probably thing I sound like a fucking crybaby asshole, complaining about how TIRED I am after spending a day doing something that sounds like pure luxury to most Americans but that shit is MEDICINE. My throat and eyes burn after all the gunk inside me is dislodged and stirred up and swirled around and sucked out. It feels like preparation to go into hibernation, like the final step in this cleansing/healing process is to go into an induced coma for two days.
The spa experience is totally my cup of tea, though. The front desk lady seemed to think I was crazy for wanting to stay there for more than eight hours, but since I go so rarely it hardly seems excessive. It takes me awhile to really turn my brain off and melt into it, so that cuts down on the time I'm really benefiting from it, but it's exactly my idea of the perfect mini-vacation. Alone, not talking to anybody, with scads of naked ladies walking around, walking from one hot room to another, from one pool to another, being ministered to by talented, paid hands, smelling good things, and trying to become invisible to myself.
Labels: bodily functions, emotions, fears, fetishes, health, luxury, money, nudity, spiritual issues, therapy, TURN ONS, TURN-OFFS
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
We woke up early to watch the Inauguration yesterday; I turned the television on as fast as I could and pretty much started crying immediately. I'm a sucker in general for ritualized ceremonies, but a lot of things made it extremely emotional for me. There's all the obvious stuff of watching a momentous, proud, hopeful, inspiring piece of history, but other stuff, too. Like remembering watching Reagan's Inauguration with my grandpa when I was a little girl. Like seeing two little girls who love their dad and thinking of my own dad and my sister and I when we were their ages. Seeing the former presidents and vice presidents and first ladies from my lifetime walking (or hobbling) in or not being there at all (like my dad and my grandpa) was like looking at a timeline with my own lifespan clearly marked on it. It's not a long line, even if I'm lucky and only a third of the way through it. I didn't think of it this way on a conscious level until hours later and realize that part of what I cried about was my own mortality.
Then I had a doctor appointment. That made me feel even more like a rusting machine getting ready to be dismissed from operation. It wasn't a good experience and by the end of last night with money stress, the emotions of the morning, sleep deprivation and all of the symptoms I went to the doctor for in the first place, I was really ready for a good night's sleep and too wound up to jump right into it.
Check out my Inauguration Day tweets
if you want some more of my reactions to yesterday. Apparently I'm the only person who loved the poem. Other people thought it was robotic -- not a word I'd have chosen to describe it, but even if it was I totally love robots so maybe that's why I liked it. At first I thought her delivery was too contrived, but a few lines into it I just heard the words/saw the moments she captured and thought it was fucking brilliant and spot-on. I burst into tears when she said the last nine words of this chunk:
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
I complained yesterday about not hearing anyone comment on the poem (and felt totally annoyed seeing people walking away from the ceremony before she even started; these must be the same assholes who go to watch fireworks displays but leave before the finale because they want to "beat the traffic" but maybe I'm being unkind and they all just have small bladders and/or diarrhea) but now I'm glad I didn't hear any chatter about it on CNN or online (I know it's out there
, I just haven't looked for it or read it). I don't know anything about poetry, but I do know I love Walt Whitman and I do know he loved Lincoln and I do recognize nods to Whitman in yesterday's poem and that all of that fits into the deliciously morbid Lincoln-channeling going on with Obama being the first to use the Lincoln bible and doing all of those other following-in-Lincoln's-footsteps black-cat-crossing things.
We spent most of today shopping since we had to make the journey to suburbia for Delia's laser hair removal appointment. It was so much fun hearing people, especially kids, talking about Obama (kid pointing at books & magazines: "look, Mom! It's Barack Obama!"). I hate that I can't shake the feeling of impending doom, though. I know other people have to be feeling it, too. Still, everything's shimmery and sparkly right now . . . very storybook-like (even with the oath do-over). Watching the ceremony yesterday I did halfway feel like I was watching a pre-pre-pre-prequel to Star Trek Next Gen. Like everything good could really come true someday and all of the buildings and monuments were bad backdrop paintings of futuristic architecture.
I don't regularly fantasize about the White House as a super-glamorous place and never have felt like the people living there were royalty the way people felt about the Kennedy years. It's kind of exciting to experience that now; I can't help it, thinking about those girls moving in there and having slumber parties. I'm totally sucked into it. The allure of a lot of chick things (weddings) escapes me but stories involving orphans, boarding school, or preteen girls spending the night in museums or moving into the White House are always going to capture my imagination. It's almost as good as eating buckets of mashed potatoes and gravy, imagining Sasha and Malia safe and happy, the most famous little girls in the world ensconced in THE WHITE HOUSE with closets full of pink clothes and barbies and books and halls to run in and a prissy nanny who tells them stories and feeds them cucumber sandwiches.
I've got some Obama-themed pictures to post from my latest members-only gallery but haven't had a chance to make promos so it'll have to wait. In the meantime you can check out Delia's samples
if you're not a member
Another sad thought I had yesterday was for our friend whose mom just died
. I imagined him and AmberLily dealing with their loss and this Inauguration going on at the same time. How weird it would be to feel like everyone in the world is paying attention to this ceremony while they're distanced from it by having a huge personal transition and ceremonies of their own to attend to. When big events coincide with personal crises it can be so isolating and bizarre. I haven't wanted to call them, but I'm definitely thinking of them and hoping for the best for them.
Labels: aging, art, celebrity, emotions, family, memories, politics, pop culture, Star Trek, television
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I Miss Majel Already
Everyone's been talking about Bettie Page
's recent death. I felt almost guiltily unphased by it, especially considering that I cried when I heard Bernie Mac
Tonight I burst into tears upon reading that Majel Barrett (Gene Roddenberry's wife) passed away
I'm a latecomer to Star Trek
; even though the original series did make an impression on me as a little kid, it was of alien go-go boot sexiness and little else. It was only after Delia
and I watched Trekkies that I got drawn in and we watched all of Next Generation from beginning to end. Gene and Majel Roddenberry's work and values have come to mean a lot to me; I'm thankful and inspired by the positive and progressive ways Star Trek depicts gender, sexuality, aging and ethics.
Whenever I see Majel on tv, a burst of love, appreciation and adoration swells up inside of me and I SCREAM it to her.
Her characters are inspirations to me and the work she and Gene Roddenberry did together and legacy they've left behind are models of working relationships, vision, humanitarianism and hope that make me feel richer, happier, and better about myself and other people.
We'll miss you, Majel.
Labels: celebrity, death, emotions, inspiration, mortality, relationships, spiritual issues, thanksgiving, values
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
We're celebrating Thanksgiving late today; my sister, nephew and brother-in-law drove to our house last night and Delia
's cooking the turkey right now. The same turkey that's been in our freezer for more than a year since we had to cancel dinner last year after my mom broke her wrist and had to get surgery mere days before the feast.
As a teenager I really resented seeing the women stuck in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. It seemed completely unfair to me, the way they slaved away while the men sat on their asses thinking up ways to make the day unpleasant and contentious. It's kind of funny(?) that now I make basically no effort to help Delia prepare meals. And this is actually the SECOND turkey she's cooked and stuffed in the past month since she made one for a big potluck a few weeks ago. Maybe as a kid I thought I was feeling sorry for the women in my family when really I was just feeling sorry for myself because I had no desire to grow up and be stuck in that role, stuck in the kitchen. At the time it didn't occur to me to visualize what I WANTED, which was to grow up and have some OTHER woman (or some man) stuck in MY kitchen, cooking her little ass off while I come in just to rub my hands greedily and condescendingly tell her how GOOD it smells, and when will it be ready, honey?
My mom isn't coming to today's gathering, either, which is a good thing; I have an insanely bad case of PMS and our whole family gets exhausted when all of us are together. Someday I hope we'll all live closer together so it's not such a long-lasting, closely-packed, unable-to-escape-each-other ordeal but right now? That's how it winds up and it's too much of an energy-sucking drag for all of us to really be considered a celebration. The competition for control and attention between four strong personalities (mine, my mom's, my sister's and her two year old son's) is too constant. I've been encouraged to be more realistic in my expectations for family time, and in taking that advice I don't feel disappointed today that we're not all together at once; instead, I'm relieved.
Since our nephew is here a lot of our cams are down or cloaked so that he can run around freely. Also, one of the camsites where we broadcast has been down since yesterday; it's frustrating, but I'm trying not to worry about it today since there's nothing I can do about it and it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway with little Mr. Squishypants in the house.
I, my sister, and Delia stayed up way too late talking so I'm feeling really sleep-deprived right now and am going to try to get in a nap. I have a sick amount of anxiety when my nephew is here, worrying about all the ways he can get hurt, feeling like I need to watch everything he does in our child-unsafe house and around our dog. Even with all that watching, he's gotten hurt and while it is a consolation knowing none of those times have come even close to killing him -- kids HAVE to fall down, split their lips, bash their heads against sharp corners, etc. -- I still have a hard time letting go and it's much worse if I haven't gotten enough sleep.
Labels: anxiety, emotions, family, fears, hormones, mundane, my trans partner, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, spycams, thanksgiving
Saturday, November 29, 2008
I went to the store for a colon cleanse kit (details to come in another entry) and some other goodies while Delia
was at her meeting. The worker bees were doing their nightly cleanup routine where they're totally in your way except for when you want to check out, and then they ignore you (and you know your irritation with them is totally reciprocated because you're in THEIR way, too). I walked out happy with my purchases, but making my foul "I hate people!" frowny-face.
In the empty parking lot as I loaded my bag into our van I happened to glance out into the dark street just in time to see a car swishing by. It looked familiar . . . was it? YES! It was my girlfriend on her way home and she SAW me! You have no idea how big my grin was by the time Delia turned on her blinker and pulled in, rolling down her window just to give me a kiss.
I know it's totally dorky and makes no sense that it would make me so happy to see her like that when we're together 97% of the time. I can't explain it, but it felt so good. Less than five minutes later we were both home together again, kissing in the driveway and talking about our colons.
I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.
Labels: emotions, health, my trans partner, relationships, shopping, thanksgiving
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Earlier today I wasn't sure how much power this victory would have
over me. I was sure I'd be relieved, but to feel THIS GOOD . . . I had no idea. I feel like we've been given a huge gift. I do feel like a huge weight has been lifted and I'm bathing myself clean in tears of joy and hope. It's so cheesy, but I feel psychically, spiritually renewed. I loved McCain's speech, loved seeing how deeply affected so many people are by this win, and loved listening with everyone else to a president elect who leads on so MANY levels.
I know not everybody feels this connected to each other and so reassured that there are truly good, morally and ethically upright people ready to step up and lead our country. You can read this and laugh, but there are a whole bunch of others of us who feel transformed by this and are looking forward to positive forward movement in an atmosphere of greater love, respect and empowerment.
I feel changed. Our country is changed.
My mom is coming over tomorrow and maybe my sister and nephew, too. This week I am getting many of my wishes granted.
Labels: emotions, legwarmers, memories, spiritual issues, television, thanksgiving, values, victory
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I have $150 of my own spending money and am trying to decide which of these things at the top of my personal wants list are most worthy of it:
*a new microphone perfect for podcasting
*hiring a guy to make a logo for WebWhoreBucks.com so I can give the whole thing a facelift and a proud capitalist woman vibe
*use it all on massage and maybe exercise classes
I'm leaning towards massage (and maybe mental health care) because even though I *yearn* for those other things, taking care of my body fulfills my basic needs (and IS mental health care) better than those other things do which require follow-up effort to be truly useful. Buying massage is one of the few things I can do for myself that is really good for me, requires no effort on my part, and on top of all that is PLEASURABLE.
Mildly put, I'm having a really difficult time today. A lot of it is hormonal/PMS, a lot of it is just the normal difficulty I have as an ADD person in prioritizing overwhelming sets of to-do's, but some of it is specific stress over a few different circumstances that I overall feel hopeful about, but have been emotionally exhausting. My emotional resources are tapped out and my brain's really loud and jumbly.
To make part of a long story short, Delia's going Alcoholics Anonymous meetings now
and I'm going to Alanon. It's a huge relief to me and I feel really positive about it. I feel like a lot of weight and isolation is being lifted from me. Still, there are residual effects of the stress I've/we've accumulated getting to this point and being in a number of transitions; I've cried a lot more than usual in the past week, which is awesome in some ways but just really fucking exhausting.
On top of that, we continue to be plagued by problems with our neighbors. Fortunately, the guy got thrown back into jail yesterday so we'll have a bit of a break from him, but the woman is probably more of a menace to us than he is. And the daughter? I just feel so fucking bad for her that she's one of the pains that I cried over recently.
Our main ISP where we have a business account tightened its spam filters and pretty much blocked us from sending any email from or referencing our porn domains through their outgoing mail servers; they were very helpful, professional, and non-accusatory, but ultimately I had to spend a lot of time on the phone for a couple of days to find a solution and get it working again. That time-suck piled on top of others makes me feel totally burned-out, like I can't get ahead. I know that's not true, I'm just feeling that way this week. It hasn't all been bad, and most of the time I feel happy, but my mood swings are extreme and the lows are really pathetic. I tried to get ahold of my psychiatrist that I haven't seen in five years or so, but he hasn't returned my messages. It would be a big help to get back on Ritalin so I could at least concentrate and get some work done without being totally scatterbrained, distracted, and wanting to rip out my overactive, inefficient brain. Just being able to sit down and work without little sounds like frogs croaking (which should be PLEASANT!) driving me to insanity would be a really huge help.
I can't stand hearing people go on and on all the time about all their problems that they always seem to be having, so I just hope that if you're reading this that you have enough context for my complaining to know I'm not defeated or just a pitiful slug of depression with no hope for the future, I'm just in a bumpy spot. I know it's nowhere near what other people have to deal with, and I wouldn't trade in my problems for other people's, but that doesn't mean I can pretend everything's totally smooth sailing for me right now. It's not the big things that are bothering me today -- I feel pretty excited (in good ways) about the big things -- it's the little things that are wearing me down. Like my mom calling to say that even though Grandma appreciates my letters, she'd rather I called. And that making me feel like I was smothering in a lead blanket of guilt that I will never have enough energy, time or detachment to throw off (it's impossible to talk to my grandma without the first thing out of her mouth being a passive-aggressive guilt trip; I thought I was fulfilling more than I'm capable of just to talk to my MOM on the phone four times in two days but I'm supposed to interrupt work to do more? YES!!!).
Then there's the world-is-out-to-get-me crap where you think everything is being aligned to stymie your efforts, like the library being closed for staff training the one day of the month you go out of your way to visit it, or water aerobics being canceled this week (JUST *this* week, they say!) when you made what felt like a herculean effort to go to the pool for the first time in fifteen years specifically for that because you really fucking need the exercise. And you know the whole modern cult-of-magnetization thinks you brought this shit on yourself . . . there ARE no coincidences and the world isn't out to sabotage you, YOU ARE DOING IT YOURSELF, but I have to calm down and remember that's both notions are a total fucking crock of shit and I just have to keep trying in spite of being annoyed that both facilities' online schedules were totally misleading!
I made the best of both situations. I'm a fucking winner. And I know it will get better. Probably when my period starts. And my girlfriend is making me eggs and bacon right now to remind me that my life is charmed, sweet, and I'm not in this all by myself. I get taken care of.
Labels: attention deficit disorder, depression, drugs, emotions, money, mundane
Thursday, July 03, 2008
"Born" on the 4th of July
We'd *planned* to take a real day off tomorrow, the 4th of July, but instead of that we have to take a buttcrack of dawn trip to Seattle to try to inseminate me
. I hate to be an asshole, but I feel like crying because the LAST FUCKING THING I WANT TO DO on the Fourth of July is be on the road. IN THE MORNING. The tension I feel now seems really counterproductive to trying to conceive so I guess I need to try to do some deep breathing or something. I would feel better if I could take a run right now and blow off some steam, but I hurt my foot the other day walking in heels outside for a shoot. Well, actually I was just trying on outfits for a shoot and had to run outside to see what our dog was hell bent on wolfing down: a grenade sized piece of dehydrated poop or something, and my ankles buckled three times in the grass as I ran in my mules to discover that. Since then it's hurt to put weight on my left foot.
This is NOT the blog entry I would like to post for you, it's just what it is. If I do not get pregnant this time, somebody just take me out and shoot me.
Are you going to tell me to go read _The Secret_ now? ;)
Anyway, I had to cancel my shows on Saturday the 5th because we *might* wind up stuck in Seattle and I can't put on a good show anyway after this procedure. So maybe we'll make Saturday our day off. Sort of like normal people have weekends and holidays, only ours will be just one day. Of course, normal people don't get to schedule massages on the fly the way I did today just after lunchtime, so it's not like I'm saying I want to be normal or anything. Just bitching, that's all.
Labels: announcements, anxiety, depression, dog, emotions, fears, trying to conceive
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Pics with the New Camera
We finally got a new camera! It just arrived on Tuesday so today we shot our first nudey set with it. Here's one of my favorite, happy NON-nudey shots from that:
I'm extremely happy with it and hope to write a whole blog entry singing its praises and showing it off. Here's one I took last night:
I should say that I can't BELIEVE it's been over a week since I made a blog entry here, but I actually CAN believe it. I feel it in my marrow, this neglect. I could whine and cry about how disgusting I've felt and how tired I've been but that kind of melodramatic pathos won't do anybody any good. Instead I'll just say that I've revamped my routine goals and schedules in such a way that I will be more productive and efficient.
Basically instead of cycling through a long weekly routine to-do list, I've shortened my daily and weekly tasks and lengthened the monthly to-do list so I can group repetitive tasks in a lump to get weeks of them done ahead of time rather than trying to switch gears and never getting ahead by focusing on weekly cycles which barely give me a chance to half-assedly finish all my "chores" before the next week starts and I'm back on exactly the same treadmill; I've been depressed and overwhelmed feeling like I'm spinning my wheels so I really want to set work up so that I can get on a roll and STAY there for two to six days on one type of work at a time. Part of this switch began with me scheduling one hyperchat week per month
and now I'm following through on that by making ALL of my work into lumpier monthly events.
Speaking of lumpy monthly events, I did get my period/am not pregnant
. I just finished up with that and my second Clomid prescription so in a week or so I should ovulate again. This time we are 90% sure we're going to the doctor for an intrauterine insemination instead of the homebrew fucking. Maybe bypassing my cervix will get this party started, but it will probably leave our spycam voyeurs high and dry since Delia will be storing up her spooge for the fertility doctors who will spin it and wash it and prep it for my uterus (a process that causes some sperm to be lost). Sounds pretty counterproductive, doesn't it? Perhaps, but many sperm are lost in the vag, too, never even getting past the cervix especially if one has "hostile cervical mucous" which really sounds like a very Trixie-esque condition. I haven't had my cervical mucous tested or anything, but it would not surprise me one bit if all of this disappointment could be blamed on my bitterly acidic cunt juices. Oh, we've tried tricks designed to improve the quality of my mucous and used products intended to bathe sperm in slippery stuff they can easily swim through, but to no avail so far. We really want to get this motherfucking show on the road. FOR REALS.
Tonight I'm going to try to get these new photos posted for members and maybe get some more exercise, too. My body is like a weird stranger to me these days, all thick and dimpled in both good and bad ways. I did some exercise along with the tv the other day called "slow-robics" and couldn't even make it the entire hour even with commercial breaks. After the midway mark I had to take a big ass break then come back to it for another ten minutes. There were tons of speed-skater-imitating squatting exercises that turned my thighs and buttocks into what felt like big soft balloons of swollen jello. I have only just regained the ability to lower my ass onto the toilet without screeching in agony and clutching at the wall for support on the way down.
I guess this is what they call "thirty-five". On an intellectual level I know precisely how I've gotten to this point and exactly what I need to do to control at least some of the damage, but on another level I just can't believe this is my body. More to the point, I can't believe how different I am from when I was young. Again, on a rational level it all makes total sense and OF COURSE I'm different from my younger self, but it's not just my body that's different; I have changed in many ways and am maybe needing some time to adjust to my new identity and get to know who I am.
All this dim-witted introspection might sound silly, like it should all be easy and come naturally and make total sense, but you make a lot of plans in life and develop a lot of habits based on your perception of your identity. When your values, needs, and abilities shift then you need to change your habits and plans. Being here in my mid-thirties is almost like losing a limb and needing to learn how to do everything with three of them instead of four. My balance is off and I feel justified in simplifying things. It's not that I feel handicapped by my age (except slightly in the body/porn department); on the contrary, I know I'm more skilled and capable. On the other hand, I'm less deluded and more aware of (and complacent about) my weaknesses. I'm more sure of what I want and what I do NOT want which is great, but it does make one's options seem more limited.
I feel like I blew my ambition wad in my twenties, working really long and hard hours for other people. Proving myself to other people, making other people money, doing what other people wanted and tiring my damned self out. Now? I feel like I don't have much of that drive left, in part because I'm happy and content, but also because I'm just motherfucking tired of it. I don't like having to be resourceful to do my job; I want to have all of the tools I need to do my job well and it just exhausts me, mentally, physically and emotionally, having to pull everything together on a shoestring budget to attain mediocrity. It feels like a big waste of my time and I really REALLY want to spend more time with my family and I REALLY want to make better porn. A lot more time with my family AND a lot more porn. I think these are very normal, typical thirty-something feelings and part of me enjoys being in this stage of life. It's also embarrassing, though, because I feel like I should be able to muster up the energy to rectify this lack of resources. Sometimes it's empowering to know you control your own destiny and can CHANGE your situation just by hard work. Other times? It's just really depressing and tiring when you feel like you've DONE your hard work and you're way past due for the payoff. Everything feels like it hinges on how well I can mind-fuck myself into believing that I can, at the very least, double our income which is basically what we need to do and FAST to make continuing what we do justifiable. Of course, getting normal jobs is even less justifiable than continuing what we do full time simply because the only hope we have of paying off our debts is to win the lottery or work hard on our sites (since there's no limit to what we can make on them, unlike real jobs that have, ummm, limitations on wages and salaries and such, and are totally degrading and exhausting and enslaving compared to working for yourself on the internet). We don't play the lottery and I have no desire to quit what I do, so this is what we're going to keep on doing. Of course, my mind is always spinning with ways I can augment the porn site stuff and switch up our plans and find other revenue streams (aka pile even more jobs on myself) but the basic place I'm at is feeling like I've run a really long race and have no idea how far I am from the finish line. My body is falling apart and I'm beyond ready to slow my pace WAY down to falling flat on my face, preferably straight into a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. But I just keep telling myself to keep trudging along even though I suspect when I round the bend there's just going to be another long-ass stretch of empty road.
It's almost 9 pm now so I'm not going to be able to get both exercise AND an update done. I'm feeling floppy after writing this and want to go to bed, but I'll try to get back in here to edit the photos because I know it will be fun and make me feel better. Then again, so would eating donuts and watching television.
Labels: accomplishments, aging, anxiety, depression, emotions, family, health, husky, money, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, priorities, trying to conceive, work
Sunday, June 08, 2008
If you didn't believe me . . .
Just in case you didn't believe that my weight gain is a real thing with an impact on my health, here's a photo of my face last month telling the tale:
I do not even look like myself in that picture. I actually think I look cute in it, but like someone else. Oh yeah, I *recognize* that it *is* me, but she's like an alter ego of some sort, like I was transformed overnight (which of course is ridiculous since it's taken me awhile to get there) or am experiencing a Freaky Friday scenario where I'm magically switching places with my chubby twin sister.
That is the biggest and SOFTEST I've been in my entire life and the second time I've weighed that much (around 130, 132 pounds). I am back to 125 and those five pounds make an enormous difference in the number of chins I have (and if I lost only ten pounds now I'd be at a very good place). At the time of that photo my period was severely overdue, not because of pregnancy but because I didn't ovulate which I'm certain is because of how overweight I was. I know 130 pounds doesn't sound enormous considering how much fatter people are capable of getting, but for my frame that is just really WAY too much. With my hormones totally out of wack and the stress and pressure of our plans to get pregnant being delayed and feeling out of control, all I wanted to do was eat. Carbs. Lots of them. It's a vicious circle.
Once my period finally started last month I stopped having my usual two teaspoons of sugar in my morning tea, stopped eating candy (except some dark chocolate here and there), and have been exercising more. I feel better, but still have a major energy dive in the afternoon/early evening and have been napping almost every day; it's only 30-60 minutes, but I feel enormously guilty about it for some reason. I don't know if I'm just stressed out, tired from exercising, fat and lazy, or have some internal voice ordering me to focus on a very few things. It is (and has been for the past nine months or so) very difficult for me to focus on anything besides our conception attempts. It sounds stupid, since if I were really focusing I should have been exercising more and eating better, but my main priority has been to try not to stress out my mind or body. All I have wanted to do was try to be patient, calm, and relaxed and honestly? Accomplishing that takes all of my energy, I think. And lots of food and lazing around.
It should come as no surprise that I have not felt great about shooting photos and videos of myself. Part of it is self-consciousness about my weight, but another part might also be me feeling a need to keep some of me to myself. Trying and failing to get pregnant over and over makes me feel like there's a demand being placed on my body that I keep failing to meet in spite of the many different adjustments and approaches and changes we make to get it done. I already feel like I'm asking enough of my body, forcing it to get fucked on a schedule, to tell me what it's thinking, to subject it to tests, to tell it to work harder and be "healthy". Other than that, I really just want to put it in a cocoon of blankets and comfortable clothes and to try to let my mind escape. I want to protect myself, my mind AND body, from more opportunities for failure.
There are a few other factors contributing to my state of mind, including missing my girly birth control hormones, my ADD and hypersensitivity to stimuli (I am fucking exhausted from processing so much information and trying to tune things out; I have not been able to concentrate at all on blogging or anything), stress/guilt over an argument I had with my mom in March, MISSING my nephew and longing to live closer to my family, and the way all these things work together to make me feel, I suppose, a little depressed. I'm not particularly worried about it in the short term, but if I allow myself to fret about how long this trying-to-conceive business could go on I do get anxious and concerned about, ummm, my mental and emotional health.
I guess my main priorities right now are making my body healthier and focusing on transcending daily worries to get to a place where it's all good, whether it's in a nap, brushing the dog, dancing, reading a book, writing for myself, daydreaming about things that make me happy, visualizing the positive possibilities, drowning myself in mindless entertainment, researching stuff I want to know for future and current projects, listening to cheesy new age music, smelling good things and enjoying sensual (but nonsexual) pleasures like massage, or processing these thoughts and reflecting on my needs the way I am right now by writing this. I feel better having done it.
But I still don't feel like shooting porn. Not today, anyway. And of course this makes me feel slack and guilty which only deepens my mini-depression. I would like to be more productive and intellectually have a hard time allowing myself a break; part of me says if I were a better person I would just WORK HARDER. Still, I know that once we do get pregnant, if we do, there will be a whole new set of demands on my body so maybe it's okay for me to just SURVIVE right now.NOTE TO MEMBERS: I'm not saying that I'm ceasing shooting, just that updates are coming a little slower than I'd like and don't have as much tastiness as usual. I'm sure we will shoot soon, especially since I'm no longer quite as pudgy as in the above photo. Oh, and another uninspiring factor in all of this is that we really need a better camera; I bought this one in 2002 and it's really not up to par anymore and has some problems. Not so fun to shoot with and the results are less than stellar.
Labels: anxiety, attention deficit disorder, customer relations, depression, emotions, escapism, family, relationships, trying to conceive, webwhore insights, work
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Here's the deal; I'm super tired, but feel like I can't let the week end without posting an entry here. Tons of blog entries in draft form that I can't seem to finish for one reason or another, so checking-in will have to do for now.
The week of my birthday (March 17th) I was working on aging and getting into a huge confrontation with my mom. The emotional fallout from that continues to plague me. It's nothing tragic or life-threatening, just cause for introspection and worry over how to apologize (if I even should) and if so, for which part. It's more complicated than that (while also being very pedestrian), but I'll leave it at that.
End of March, as you know
, we discovered yet again that we're not pregnant . . . another non-life-threatening emotional drain.
April: have been working on many geeky projects to boost our income; site redesigns, etc. The only part of that we've actually finished is the members-only redesign of Delia's site
, but it did suck up a lot of time and energy.
In general I've been leaning at a noticeable slant towards the asshole-end of my personality spectrum so this week I've done a few things to help me straighten up and fly right; we took almost a whole day off, yesterday I got a massage, and we've had a couple of outings involving strolling through town, walking the dog at dusk, and breathing fresh air.
I believe my main problem is hormonal; the longer I am off the pill, the more monstrous I feel and act. Of course, it could be the circumstances that are getting to me, but I honestly don't think that's the biggest part of the problem; I think my problem is chemical. Fortunately there are a lot of things I can do to help myself feel better: exercise, eat better, listen to music, stretch, get massage, go outside, decide how I want to feel and act and make that my real work every day, etc. Unfortunately? I'm not very disciplined with the food and exercise and really just want to be able to WORK-work without worrying about taking care of myself. It's ridiculous because I have so much freedom and flexibility, yet I can't seem to keep things in balance. I'm good at allowing myself plenty of time to daydream and as much sleep as I need, but I want to be better at regularly giving myself therapeutic physical pleasure: dancing, massage, breathing, stretching, crying, etc. Yeah, sex is in there too, but the other stuff is what I'm needing most, am most apt to neglect, and is most likely to lead to fucking when I get them in adequate quantities with regularity.
So. Long story short is that I've been having a bit of a hard time, and that I'd like to hold that craziness at arm's length because it really does seem alien to me, not because it's unfamiliar but because, from a rational perspective (and having been in this territory many times in my life), I just don't think these are my organic struggles -- I feel like they're thrust on me by the exaggerating effects of hormone fluctuations. It's like I can't even BELIEVE what I'm feeling except when I'm in the tightest grip of feeling shitty. I really believe I'm a happy person, and it frustrates me that something sometimes seems to be getting in the way of me FEELING and ACTING happy.
I'm not saying that deep inside me there's a bubbly cheerleader sort of happy person just waiting to get out, but I *am* a grateful, overjoyed-by-small-things and delighted-by-life happy person. I'm just depressed sometimes, too.
So. I'm not posting this to solicit pity or concern, just letting people know part of what's been going on with me. In the grand scheme of things it's not a big deal, not even to me, but I know a lot of people go through the same kinds of things and can relate. I'm working on it, I'm hopeful, and I don't want anyone to have the impression all has been a storm cloud of ugliness lately in my life when that's totally untrue. Today was like magic, in fact, and there have been buttloads of bright spots over the past month. It's just that a lot of life has been annoyingly peppered with little flecks of shit, know what I mean? It's like having the perfect mocha with what seems to be shavings of gorgeous chocolate, but after you take a sip you discover that those are actually grated remains of the petrified brains of Mad Cow Disease victims.
Labels: depression, emotions, family, goals, health, hormones, mundane, work