Monday, April 28, 2008

Travels in the Land of Depression

I had meant to write this earlier, but, as with most things lately, I'm running a little late..... I really wanted to write this so that I could re-evaluate my history with depression before I started with a new therapist, which I did earlier today. (BT and I seem to have reached a... if not a deal, then a stasis, by which we'll stay married for now so that I can keep my health insurance and we're making money arrangements as well. *Sigh of relief* At least this can be said for BT, he is generous and giving of whatever he has, when he has it.) But not that the therapist and I could really get to alot of my history because I was trying to get him caught up enough that he might be able to give me any advice on...anything. Then again, as I write this, I'm not sure who exactly I'm writing this for or why, especially now that the first therapy session is over. I suppose part of it is so I can re-evaluate it Part of it is to share it with other people out there who might be going through the same things. Finally, I guess I want to share this with those who are important to me, who I know read this, so that maybe they can understand.

I can't really remember a time when I wasn't depressed, even though I didn't know that was what it was called then. While I don't remember making it at all, Sir said that, once, when he was going through some of my old stuff, stuff I had made when I was a kid, and there was something where I wrote that I hoped I would go to heaven so that I could be with the angels. From the date on it, I was only 5 or 6 years old. What I do remember was what got me sent to a therapist the first time. (And yes, I do mean SENT, because that was how I viewed it at the time and viewed going to therapists for quite some time thereafter.) I was either 5 or 6 at this time as well. My uncle, the middle one, the alcoholic/addict one, was just starting to get a divorce from his wife. I had been in their wedding, as the flower girl. She was beautiful, at least to me at the time- blonde, thin, an 80's dream. And, supposably, Cybil Shepard was a distant cousin of hers. Her name was Lynn. And, for some weird kid reason, I started signing my name as Lynn on drawings and assignments. I don't know why I didn't think it through further, realize that it would look weird and get me in trouble. Or what I thought was trouble at the time. Ok, and I do know why. Because I was a kid and I was having a hard time adjusting. It was embarassing when I finally got called out on it, when the teachers and the whole class looked at me like I was insane because I was taking on name of my soon-to-be-ex-aunt. Actually, it was so embarassing at the time that I can't remember telling anyone about it until right now. My parents had already been divorced for two years by that time and I'm sure that everyone in my family thought I was adjusting as well as could be expected. But, then again, it was just around that time that I saw my (biological) dad, so.... Needless to say, I got to go to see a nice man (therapist) a couple times. I remember talking and drawing pictures. I don't know if it helped or not.

Things started escalating as the teen years started hitting full force. I think everyone has some amount of chaos during their teen years. My body developed early and very visibly. I looked much older than I was and got hit on by older teenage guys who were mortified to find out that I was 11 and not 15 or 16, like they were. And I was interested in sex, but, when you are that age and you don't live near any of your friends because you go to small private school and you're too introverted and your neighborhood is too dangerous to be friends with local kids, well, you just don't have much opportunity to explore sexual things. Plus, I think the whole gender binary, double standard, fucked up way that sex is viewed in our culture doesn't really let anyone, boys or girls, explore their bodies and their sexuality in safe ways that they can view positively. I wanted a boy that would "love" me (as I probably would have "loved" any of them at that point) so that I could explore all the sexual feelings I had at the time, which I felt could only be explored with the opposite sex through the very straightforward kissing which leads to necking which leads to sexual intercourse. In addition to knowing now that there's so much more you can do, so many more people you can do it with, so many reasons that you can do it, I also recognize that I wanted that "love" to make up for the love I didn't have from my (bio) dad. (Even though I had at the time and still do have, luckily, a wonderful step-father who loves me and cares for me as he would his own biological child.) Also, if someone loved me, then it meant that I was worthy of love, which would contradict how I felt, as if I wasn't worthy of love, especially if my own father couldn't love me. Even to this day, I always feel like I must be unworthy because my father still doesn't want anything to do with me, which to me means he obviously doesn't love me.

But finding "love" at 11 or 12 with an 11 or 12 year old boy is...well, I was going to say more difficult than finding love with a man or woman your own age, but I'm not actually sure that's true. Either way, it wasn't very sucessful back then and I actually ended up spending most of my nights crying myself to sleep while listening to sad, crappy easy listening, adult FM music. The summer I turned 13 three important things happened. 1) It was the first time I got to spend my summer at home alone, as opposed to the previous summers which I spent at a summer day camp. 2) It was the first time I actively contemplated suicide. 3) We moved away from the "bad" suburbs of the really really big city to the "good" suburb of the smaller city where we still live and I got to go to a "good" high school. At this new school, I got to start over, in an environment that was quite a culture shock to me, where I had even less luck with guys. I decided I would stay stuck on a guy back where I used to live, the futility of which made me ever more depressed. I think I spent most of my high school afternoons, except those when I was working, curled up in the fetal position on my bed, crying. It got even worse during finals time each semester because of all the stress. I'd cram for as long as I possibly could, then break down and cry really hard, then make myself go back and cram some more. I was always very relieved when finals were over.

But, just as my inability to deal with men is at the root of much of my depression, men have also been, or tried to be, my saviors as well. It was my relationship with Sir, his unrelenting and unreasonable belief in me that caused me to try medication for my depression, to (kinda) voluntarily hospitalize myself when my continued cutting was too much for him to deal with, and to keep picking myself up over and over again when I fell off the treatment-for-depression wagon. This last fall, when I was overwhelmed by the combination of my very painful gallbladder problems, my anti-depressant medication pooping out on me, a summer spent dealing with and taking care of ill family members, and a wonderful loving couple who just wanted too much too fast, it was Mon Parrain's pressure and belief in me that lead me to seek out hospitalization again, to tinker with a new medication, to take the chance on marrying a wonderful man that I was (am) head over heels in love with. It was BT's long-distance desperation that kept me hanging on during the medication tinkering process- when moving from 75mgs to 150mgs made me aggressive and homicidal, then moving from 150mgs to 225mgs made me suicidal, and staying on 225mgs took away most of my higher cognitive functions. Now it seems to be TyRoy's push that is helping me during this down turn, helping me to have some kind of hope for the future, convincing me not to let the bad with BT determine my moods, and forcing me to get up (usually by kicking out of bed and not letting me return to it) so that I will be awake for appointments, job searching, and going to a job.

Alright, so at this point, I am realizing how much this post has deviated from what I had intended. When I first started thinking about this post in my head, I thought it would just be a catalog of my depression, my medications, my doctors, my therapists, and my hospitalizations. But I actually haven't covered alot of the actually nitty-gritty facts. I've ended up with a litany of how my life has been guided and shaped by the men both in it and out of it. I feel like this should really be the end of this post but I haven't even touched on the fact that, because of health insurance, or lack there of, I don't think that I've even gotten to touch on the fact that, while I think that talking to therapists have helped at the specific times when I talked to them, I don't think that talking to them has made a damn bit of difference in changing the deep down issues that still pop up and feed the depression monster. (Well, there, guess I mentioned it now.) I guess I'll leave that for another day.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

How Horrible is This?

Yesterday, I learned how truly easy it is to get a divorce in my suburban county. All of the forms are available online as Adobe PDFs that you can just print off from your computer. It even gives you explicit instructions on what forms you need to fill out for what and when. And my husband is starting to date someone (online) that he played with before, with my permission, and I'm pretty happy about that. Happy that he has someone else to care about him and take care of him, even if they are only dating. Things with TyRoy are... well, in many ways in stasis until I get my own life straightened out (job, divorce, money, depression, etc). I am happy, but I'm also kinda panicking. I have finally pushed myself to find out about the paperwork for the divorce, found out it could be just a matter of a couple pieces of paper in the mail and a couple signatures in front of some notaries and we will be separate individuals again.

You know what is so horrible?

The only thing that is standing in my way is my fear of being without health insurance.

Ok, ok, ok, I should backup. It's not as if there isn't a big part of me that worries that I'm doing the wrong thing. It's not as if I don't know that it is wrong to leave a man I love when he is already in a precarious situation, both physically and emotionally. It's not as if I'm not afraid that I'm going to end up alone. It's not as if I'm not afraid that I'll end up feeling like I let go of "the one" sometime down the line. It's not as if I don't selfishly desire the kind of worship that BT always heaped on me. It's not as if I don't lie next to TyRoy at night, trying to sleep, and think that, while he's a great guy and I'm excited to see where it all goes with him, TyRoy wasn't the one who took care of me throughout numerous very painful bladder infections, who stood by me all day as I stood by my dying grandfather, who was a pallbearer in his ACUs only days before the last time that we'd see each other until he got back from Iraq. (Not that I hold this against TyRoy, but it is just the truth.) It's not that I don't cry thinking about all the dreams that BT and I had and watching them crumble before me. All these things and a thousand other things flood my mind everytime I think about finalizing the dissolution of this marriage. But nothing scares me more than being financially adrift right now with all the medical bills that I am paying and worry of how I am going to pay the future bills for future visits to the doctor or the shrink or the therapist that I so desperately need or my anti-depressant medication which has no generic and is $101 a month without insurance. How fucking horrible is that? Sometimes I feel like the worst person in the whole wide world.

Friday, April 18, 2008

His Kind of Money (My Kind of Love) - Eric Church

This is a new country single. So new that I had to find a live performance of it on youtube and then write down the lyrics myself (so bear with any typos please). But I heard it and... well, it struck a cord. Though probably not the one that is assumed.....

His Kind of Money (My Kind of Love) - Eric Church
I bet you the wine is fine
And I bet you the diamond is real
And I bet you his house is a big one up on the hill
That's where he's got me girl
Not that I blame you at all
No, don't say you're sorry
Just go and have you a ball

Cause I ain't got his kind of money
And I probably never will
But I got a buck that says
His twenties and his hundred dollar bills
Ain't gonna satisfy you forever
They can only buy so much
I ain't got his kind of money
But he ain't got my kind of love

Who's gonna bait your hook?
Who's gonna get lost in your eyes?
Who's gonna throw that ball
That's gonna wins you the prize?
And who's gonna kiss you goodnight?
And make it last all night long?
And who's gonna be there when he's always gone?

I ain't got his kind of money
And I probably never will
But I got a buck that says
His twenties and his hundred dollar bills
Ain't gonna satisfy you forever
They can only buy so much
I ain't got his kind of money
But he ain't got my kind of love

He can buy you all he wants to
But girl I ain't sold
So keep my number handy
Because I think we both know......

I ain't got his kind of money
Truth is I probably never will
But I got a buck that says
His twenties and his hundred dollar bills
Ain't gonna satisfy you forever
They can only buy so much
I ain't got his kind of money
But he ain't got my kind of love

No I ain't got his kind of money
But you're gonna miss my kind of love


How Long Does It Take You to Fall Asleep?

I have trouble falling asleep. I always have.

Some of it has been born out of just stubbornness. My uncle says that, when I was a baby, just as I was about to nod off, I would punch myself to keep myself awake. When I was a little bit older, I would play with the dolls and stuffed animals that I was allowed to sleep with, making up complicated stories that we would all act out every night, just to keep myself up. I got yelled at quite a bit for that. Back then though, I really thought that being grown up meant being able to stay up as late as one wanted and, since I wanted to be grown up, I wanted to stay up as late as I wanted.

Then again, I've always believed myself to be a night owl. I don't really enjoy the morning time. While it might be a wonderful time to get practical things done, like cleaning house or doing yard work, mornings have never seemed like a good time to get creative things done. All the really interesting things, like parties, plays, movies, love affairs, usually happen at night.

When I'm in a down turn in my depression, my "night-owl-y-ness" seems to be even more extreme. I am up all night. Nothing that I do to try to put myself to sleep works. (Oh, and sleeping pills? Forget it. Those stupid commercials tell people to allow 6-8 hours before they plan on being active. For me, it is more like 26-28 hours before I can plan on being active.) This means that I don't get anything done during the day, especially not going to school or looking for and/or keeping work, which then makes the depression even worse. That is where I am right now. This is why I've fucked up two job opportunities in the last month. It's gotten so bad that, if I end up getting a job that starts either too early or too late for my mom to get me up when she gets up, I've talked poor TyRoy into being my "drill sgt" to get me up and to work (at least until I can do it myself).

And, as if sleeping matters weren't bad enough, I have to deal with the fact that I can never go to sleep anywhere near the time that I lay down, which is especially apparent when I am sleeping with someone else. I can tell you exactly how my bed partners act as they fall asleep, the way their head gets really heavy, or how they twitch around a bunch, or how they crack the knuckles of their thumbs. I know this because I lay there, in the dark, wondering how long it is going to take for me to fall asleep, wondering if I should just get up and do something else until I'm more tired and ready for sleep, wishing I had someone to talk to about all the crazy stuff that goes on in my head as I lay in the dark unable to sleep. And it seems to take me forever to get to sleep because, the longer I am awake, the more upset and tense I get because I am not asleep yet.

I also have to wonder if it is a phenomenon solely relegated to male/female couples, with the men always being able to fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow while their female partners lay awake in bed. I can't think of any women, straight or lesbian, that I have heard complain about not being able to fall asleep while their bed partner has no problem. Maybe it is just that most people, whether male or female, can fall asleep rather easily, while I'm the weird outlier.

I just know that it is annoying as hell to know that you need to go to sleep, that you want to go to sleep, but you can't fall asleep for reasons you don't know, while your bed partner sleeps soundly next to you. Grrrrr.......

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Dilate- Ani DiFranco

There have been several times when parts of this song really resonated with me and how I felt about a certain person but I thought it was just too damn mean to really put out there or to hold him up to. I guess I feel a little less nice now.

Dilate- Ani DiFranco
life used to be life-like
now it's more like showbiz
i wake up in the night
and i don't know where the bathroom is
and i don't know what town i'm in
or what sky i am under
and i wake up in the darkness and i
don't have the will anymore to wonder
everyone has a skeleton
and a closet to keep it in
and your mine
every song has a you
a you that the singer sings to
and you're it this time
baby, you're it this time

when i need to wipe my face
i use the back of my hand
and i like to take up space
just because i can
and i use my dress
to wipe up my drink
i care less and less
what people think
and you are so lame
you always dissapoint me
it's kind of like our running joke
but it's really not funny
and i just want you to live up to
the image of you i create
i see you and i'm so unsatisfied
i see you and i dilate

so i'll walk the plank
and i'll jump with a smile
if i'm gonna go down
i'm gonna do it with style
and you won't see me surrender
you won't hear me confess
'cuz you've left me with nothing
but i've worked with less
and i learn every room long enough
to make it to the door
and then i hear it click shut behind me
and every key works differently
i forget everytime
and forgetting defines me
that's what defines me

when i say you sucked my brain out
the english translation
is i am in love with you
but it ain't no fun
but i don't use words like love
'cuz words like that don't matter
but don't look so offended
you know, you should be flattered

and i wake up in the night
in some big hotel bed
and my hands grope for the light
and my hands grope for my head
the world is my oyster
the road is my home
and i know that i'm better
off alone

Live, in audience recording of "Dilate", but not as good as the one on the live album

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back

So, with all this back and forth with BT, I've been so stressed, torn apart, not even knowing what to do, wanting to believe what he says but then finding more reasons not to. Today when I told him that it was really over. I just wanted a divorce. I was suicidal and not getting better and I just wanted out, one way or another. BT finally granted that he would do it, though he wasn't happy about it. And to go even further, he pushed me to reconsider and told him that he would come back to me anytime I asked him, no matter what his situation, as evidenced by the chat transcript below.....

BT (4/15/2008 11:25:29 AM): I am going to let you have this divorce Ava, I told you I would, but I will also tell you this that I am not going to give up on us!!!! I will always hope that one day, you will call me, or IM me or something, and say that you want us to be together, and no matter what, I will always do it
Ava (4/15/2008 11:25:40 AM): And if you're upset about it being "one-sided"[refering to the open marriage], why did you say, when you wanted us to get married, that you'd be ok with me going outside of the marriage but you didn't think you'd do that unless we played together????
BT (4/15/2008 11:25:50 AM): I am not BSing you, if you don't want kids, then fine, so be it
BT (4/15/2008 11:26:11 AM): cuz at first, I didn't think I could do it
BT (4/15/2008 11:26:30 AM): I had never been in an open relationship before
Ava (4/15/2008 11:26:42 AM): No, bc all you wanted was to be married and it did even matter to who.
Ava (4/15/2008 11:26:56 AM): So you said everything I wanted to hear to make that happen.
BT (4/15/2008 11:26:57 AM): that is fucking bullshit
Ava (4/15/2008 11:27:21 AM): All you want is to not be alone out there.
BT (4/15/2008 11:27:27 AM): If I just wanted to be married to someone, I would have married AJ
BT (4/15/2008 11:27:36 AM): or Kat, or someone else
Ava (4/15/2008 11:28:43 AM): Ok, I was just the best of the bunch, then.
BT (4/15/2008 11:29:04 AM): I fell in fucking love with you, I didn't want it to fucking happen, but it fucking did, that is why I fucking married you, why I want to stay fucking married to you, why I will always be ready at a drop of a hat for you to come back into my fucking life, and say that you want to be with me
BT (4/15/2008 11:30:03 AM): and why whenever you do come back into my fucking life, that I will always say"yes, I want to be with you", no matter what
BT (4/15/2008 11:30:54 AM): it could be 10 years from now, I could have moved on, got a new wife, had a kid or two, and if you came to me, and said you wanted us to be together, I would leave her in a heartbeat
Ava (4/15/2008 11:31:30 AM): You know I'
BT (4/15/2008 11:31:35 AM): I will do anything, give anything to stay and be with you
Ava (4/15/2008 11:31:43 AM): I'd never ask someone to leave their wife or kids.
BT (4/15/2008 11:32:09 AM): I would do it, to be with you, I would do it a million times over
BT (4/15/2008 11:32:28 AM): I love you ava, and when I said that you were my world, I meant it
Ava (4/15/2008 11:33:00 AM): I love you too BT. Goddess only knows how much I love you. But it fucking hurts too much.
Ava (4/15/2008 11:33:07 AM): And it hurts all the time.
BT (4/15/2008 11:33:13 AM): but I am done fighting with you for now, if you want the divorce, you have it, I hope in the end it is what you wanted
Ava (4/15/2008 11:33:33 AM): And not like it should. Not because you are over there and I worry about you. I do but that isn't the kind of hurt it is.
BT (4/15/2008 11:34:12 AM): I need to pull myself together, and quit fucking crying, and go take a shower
Ava (4/15/2008 11:34:26 AM): I'm sorry. Go take your shower.
BT (4/15/2008 11:34:40 AM): trust me, I know it fucking hurts, you are not the only one this is hurting like this

There was a little bit more discussion but I'll cut it off there because I think you get the idea. He will give me the divorce, even though he'd rather we stay together forever, or if not that at least for me to wait until he gets back from Iraq, or if not those two then to give him until July. And, you know, I almost believed him..... until, snooping in his email, which he gave me the password to, I found e-mails from a woman I knew he'd talked to before going out to Iraq, who now signed your emails, Your fiance, [her first name] [BT's last name]. He doesn't even want to give me the divorce but he's already engaged to another woman?!?!? I don't think that makes sense. Oh, and she was writing this during the time that I was talking about giving him another chance at all this. He hates TyRoy because he thinks that TyRoy stole me from him and threw a fit when I told him that TyRoy said (jokingly? not?) that I could marry him to get health insurance once I was divorced. (At the time, I was worried about how I was going to be without health insurance, saying that I would probably have to buy health insurance through my college.) But he wasn't asking me to marry him before I was ever really divorced or while I was saying that I wanted to stay married to BT. But BT has a fiance already who is already using his last name between the two of them.

You know, it really wouldn't bother me quite so much if he had ever mentioned being serious with this woman. He had mentioned how he was talking to two other women about the possibility of dating them once he and I were divorced, both women he had talked to before, but he said that, even when we weren't trying to reconcile, he told both of them that he wasn't sure he could be serious because he wouldn't be over me. But he never mentioned this woman as anything serious. If he had, it would have probably lit an even bigger fire under my ass to get the paperwork started, so he could have the divorce and move one, so he could be with her, free and clear, and I would wish him the best. And I have no clue why he would be resisting the divorce if he wants to be with her. Unless he doesn't, which I really hope isn't the case because she seems like a nice woman who has gone through a great deal of hardships and doesn't deserve to be screwed over. (Not that anyone deserves it, but... well, you know what I mean.)

So that's it. I'm done. Fuck this.

"I learned the hard way/ That they all say /Things you want to hear/ And my heavy heart sinks deep down under you and /Your twisted words, /Your help just hurts/ You are not what I thought you were/ Hello to high and dry //Convinced me to please you /Made me think that I need this too /I'm trying to let you hear me as I am"- "Love Song" Sara Bareilles

Friday, April 11, 2008

THE Psuedonym Post (Vol. 3)

There is only really one person that I feel the need to introduce, but, like always, I have copy and pasted the rest of the psuedonyms, just in case anyone needs a refresher.

TyRoy- A mid-30s man who has been the primary benificiary of my open marriage. I met him on CL through an ad simply looking for someone to talk to, though our relationship evolved into a "rough sex in the box" relationship, in addition to the original friendship, when I answered a different ad looking for some kinky sex stuff a month later, not knowing that it was from the same man. The sex and the friendship were both great, but it seems to be developing into something more, especially since I finally decided to leave BT. Of course, BT always thought that he wanted something more, was always very distrustful of him and his intentions. And, to make matters worse, TyRoy is an army officer and enlisted men, like BT, hate and detest officers. Explanation of Name: First of all, this is the psuedonym that he chose. As one may have guessed by now TyRoy is black. But, on the other hand, he doesn't seem to gravitate especially towards stereotypically black things. He listens to heavy metal, for Chrissakes! But right around the time he met me, he had developed what he called his "bling" name- TyRoy. Under this theory, his mother didn't know if his father was Tyrone or Leroy, so she combined the names and named him TyRoy. (Yes, I am aware of the internalized racism that lurks in this whole scenario. I am also aware that I am subscribing to certain racist stereotypes as well in some of my interactions with him. I try not to dwell on it.) Then, he started a running joke, a riff on the Chappelle Show character Tyrone Biggums, only TyRoy is not addicted to crack, but to pussy.

From Vol. 2
Boy Toy (BT)- A late-20s Army boy who is shipping off for Iraq soon, but that I'm having great sex with until he does. He lives in the nearby college town in the same communal home as a friend of mine and my uncle's, which is how I met him. He is amazing, sweet, and makes me feel safe and wanted all the time we are together. I just wish I got to see him more. While he's away, I plan to send him lots of care packages. Explanation of the Name: When I first met him, I thought that he could only be 21. He had, still has, a cute baby face. In fact, when my grandmother first met him, she told him that he must be full of shit about having served in Kosovo because he couldn't be more than 18 or 19 years old. In the month between when I met him and when we had our first date, which turned out to be a whole weekend together, I called him "my boy toy" or "my conquest" to all my friends. Then, I found out the sad truth that he was a year and a half older than me. **Update: We got married in Vegas a week before he left for training. As of this post, he's in Iraq. We've had lots of issues, mostly surrounding honesty, openness, and trust, all key components in a marriage with such distance between the partners, especially one that is open as well. Oh, and there have been lots of issues with money. But I still love him. Stupidly, irrationally, in a way that hurts all the time.

The Keeper- A mid-30s professional businessman who I met by responding to his Craigslist post looking for a mistress and "kept woman" who he could help financially in return for having a reliable, intelligent woman he could spend time with. He's not a "sex in a box" yet, but I'm hoping that this relationship develops more.**Update: One date and nothing more. Kinda disappointing.

Stewart- An unhappily married man that I'm have a "sex in a box" relationship with. He's a mid-30s professional businessman as well and I really enjoy how he looks like your average suburban dad/businessman, but has already revealed a little kink. It's just sex, but good sex. And, of course, Stewart isn't his real name, but the name he used when he first contacted me in an unsolicited IM. **Update: Tried to end things completely after I got married, because I stopped seeing the fun in fucking people I didn't particularly like, though he still pops up from time to time, wanting a little bit of action.

Chimera- And last but not least, my long-distance "sub in a box" relationship. He's a 20 year old dad in Ohio who is going to marry the mother of his child soon, but has yet to even really fully explain his desires to be dominated to her. Though their relationship is kinky, it is mostly him fulfilling her desires to be submissive. I met him on a 3D avatar chatting site when he was looking to be the slave of the Alpha Female in the Pack. Thought we started as friends, fellow subs sharing what we desired, I've since come to really enjoy dominating him.

Original Post
A friend and regular reader suggested that they have been confused about my psuedonyms for different people so I thought I'd start a psuedonym post that I'll put in the Important Posts section and update as I get more psuedonyms and more people in my life, so that there is an easy index for all readers.

Sir- Sir is my most recent ex-boyfriend. We were together 5 years. His psuedonym of Sir is one that he came up with because, whenever he is out with male friends at restaurants, the waitresses always call his friends "sweetie" and "honey" but they always call him "Sir." We broke up February 2005 and have remained good friends since. **Update: I sabatoged that friendship by revealing what I felt was his hypocrisy on my blog. But I also revealed a secret that I shouldn't have, largely out of spite and anger that I felt towards any and all men who cheat.

Ex-T- My first real boyfriend when I was 16. He lives in bigger Midwestern city where I travel to see my grandparents. We are still friends and talk quite often. T is his first initial and I was very lazy in coming up with a psuedonym for him.

Ex-J- My second real boyfriend. He was a great guy that I fucked over royally. But I think he has a good life now. Or at least I hope he does. Once again, J is his first initial and I was lazy.

Anna- My good straight male crossdressing friend, who I have developed a "switch in a box" relationship with. Even if we were to stop "playing", we'd still hang out and watch movies, get really drunk, and just have a good time.

Mon Parrain- The name is French for sponsor, godfather, advisor. I wanted to pick something that would fit his initials, MP. He is a "sex in a box", but is also fast becoming a very good friend who is teaching me about myself, my sexuality, and life in general. He has a very complicated life, but is very honest and caring. I hope that soon our relationship will move more towards "dom in a box." **Update: He disappeared, for the most part, shortly after I got married, though I know he still watches over me. I think he disappeared largely because he was afraid he had become too big of an influence in my life. That might have been true then and it might still be true if he came back, but I miss him and he made an indelible impression in the short time that he was so close to me.

Cassie- She is a friend that I've had for a year or more now. A frenemy tried hooking us up, but nothing really happened so we decided to become friends. I have thought that nothing was happening between us because she didn't like me. On paper we would have been a perfect match, but she never made any ANY move towards me. Turns out she is just painfully shy in the romance department. She recently became a "sex in a box" after I got really flirty with her. **Update: That "sex in the box" didn't last very long as she felt I was taking advantage of her. While I thought I had explained what I was looking for, it obviously didn't really set in. But, despite all that, we are still friends and she has just gotten with a great girl who she's in love with, so I'm happy.

The Pack- This is a family that I have met recently and seem to becoming part of fairly quickly. I answered a CL ad from a couple looking for a third, though they didn't really specify whether they wanted just a third domestically or both domestically and sexually. They offered me sanctuary when I was worried about a guy coming after me and I'm completely taken by them and the life they have to offer. It might just be infatuation, but, right now, I want to be a part of their pack, their beta female. Individually, since I'm not very inventive right now, they are Alpha Male(AM) and Alpha Female(AF), and their two beautiful amazing children are Female Cub(FC) and Male Cub(MC). **Update: This has since blown-up, for many reasons.

When a Crap Movie Can Turn Your Year Around

It is an understatement to say that I have not been very productive lately. It would be easy to blame it on the funk that I've been in, on this part of the depression cycle that I seem to be stuck in, on sleeping too much because I want to avoid everything, or on my angst over my failing relationship. But I've been in this place before and still been able to be productive, in my own way. I might not have been able to hold down a job, go to my college classes, or be awake during daylight hours, but I was still productive in my own way. I watched movies, kept up on magazine reading, journalled, and, above all, read books. The winter before I moved back to my parents' house, I read the first half, or more, of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, series in a couple nights. But since BT left back in January, I've barely finished a magazine a week, haven't watched any movies except when I was hanging out with someone else, and I haven't finished any books. I HAVEN'T FINISHED A SINGLE BOOK IN FOUR MONTHS!!!!!! What is wrong with me? And, as for the movies, I have quite a few movies on DVD that I haven't watched, a few of which usually travel wtih me when I spend time over at TyRoy's, except I can't watch them there because his DVD player, excellent though it may be, is too old to play my cloned DVDs. In fact, I think I've had Hostel 2 in my overnight bag for a month without the DVD ever leaving its little paper sleeve.

Yesterday was my six month wedding anniversary. I felt awful, like I'd never be a productive, employed member of society again, and the anniversary of my dissolving marriage didn't make me feel any better. I started to feel a little better when I have a better than usual IM/webcam chat with BT, with Firefly on DVD playing in the background. I also felt a little better when TyRoy agreed to give me the drill sgt. treatment, if that was what it took to get me up everyday and to a job. (Though I have to get a job first. One step at a time.) But you know what really made me feel better? As silly as it is, what made me feel better was watching, completely and in one sitting, Hostel 2. Yes, watching Hostel 2 was what changed my whole day, week, month, hell, year around.

Now, for those of you who don't know, I am addicted to horror movies. Just like my mom is addicted animal movies, like my dad is addicted to (bad) science fiction movies, like BT is addicted to war movies. and TyRoy is addicted to (really stupid) comedies. Growing up, I had to sneak to watch most horror movies, mostly because most horror movies have at least one sex scene in them (so that those damn sluts can get killed later in the movie) and my parents wouldn't let me watch sex scenes. But I don't think that it was the sneaking that made me love them. I once read an essay by Stephen King that theorized that people love horror movies and stories because, just like a rollercoaster, they are scary but in a safe and controlled environment. This is why I like good horror movies, or good-to-me horror movies. And I know that a horror movie is good to me if I'm still spooked in the safety of my own house hours afterwards. Then again, what about all the other horror movies that I've watched? Even by my lax standards, good horror movies are few and far between. Especially if you keep up with horror movies as they come out, instead of just watching those horror movies that keep their luster after just a few years. It seems to me that horror, more than any other movie genre, tends to get stuck repeating variations on the same formula for years after one movie becomes a smash hit by using that formula.

********[Spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't seen Psycho, Scream, Saw, Hostel, or Hostel2]******
But nothing beats that moment in a horror movie when you realize that you are seeing something out of the ordinary. I remember seeing Scream opening weekend, hell, opening Friday night, at 10pm, in a theater in Chicago Heights, IL, in a packed theater with a largely black crowd. My friend Mary and I were 13. After years of making fun of the stupidity of the characters in horror movies, we finally had a movie that spoke to the flaws of teen-based horror movies. And just as Hitchcock shocked audiences of his day by killing the female lead of Psycho, Janet Leigh, less than halfway through the movie, we were shocked when the biggest name in the whole film, Drew Barrymore was killed in the first sequence. But it was those things that really grabbed us and made us appreciate the movie. More than movies in any other genre, to be good, horror movies have to play on, and yet still defy, your expectations. I think the last time I truly felt that was at the end of the first Saw movie. Not only are you left with the grim idea that no one is probably going to survive the Jigsaw Killer, but you can't help thinking "WTF!?!?!" when the man you assumed was dead all along gets up off the floor and goes after those with some semblance of life left in them. Even if "The Twist" at the end of a movie is a cheap ploy, it is a cheap ploy that I will always love, so long as I don't guess it in the first 10 minutes. (Yeah, I'm talking to you Sixth Sense!)

Don't get me wrong. Hostel 2 is not a great horror movie. It is not even a good-to-me horror film. It is nominally better than the first Hostel, but I think that might be my gender bias. I had high hopes for the first Hostel, but, despite the "twist" that it was just regular joes, albeit very rich regular joes, who were torturing and killing these young people, I couldn't seem to root for the victims. The first part of the movie seems like a not very funny comedy, with these idiot frat boys touring Europe looking for easy pussy. While I don't believe that anyone deserves the sort of torture they endured, I also did necessarily feel a great deal of sympathy for them either. I also wasn't particularly horrified by the idea that rich men from around the world would pay large sums of money to torture and kill people. A cynical part of me believes that they already do. I was glad that the most decent guy got away and that he helped another poor girl escape and that he killed one of the rich torture tourists, but it was all kinda...meh.

So what made Hostel 2 so different that it turned my year around? Once again, it's not because it was particularly good. There were so many groan-inducing cliches that I wasn't even sure why I wanted to watch it- the implied lesbianism of the main character, the potential torture tourist driven to it by an emasculating wife, a blonde party girl bestfriend, the naive teetotaler who tags along with the more popular girls only to become the first victim. And, for such a short movie, there is way too much time spent with the two men who have come to torture and kill, the emasculated one, who keeps waffling about whether or not he'll go through with it, having been dragged there by his macho bestfriend. This leaves us caring even less for the intended victims. Where the first killer being a female with a female victim could have been inspired, it ended up cliched, as she only wanted to bathe in the blood of a virgin, that timeless anti-aging secret that few women can afford. But it was "The Twist" that pulled me in. Granted, if I had been a little bit more invested, I probably would have seen the twist coming from a mile away. But I didn't and felt generously rewarded when the last female victim turned the tables, saving her life by becoming a member of the club. It wasn't just that she killed her would-be killer. The heroine of most horror movies has to do that just so that she may survive. But she has her would-be killer tied-up, has rendered him powerless, when the people that run the club confront her. She can pay her way out of the situation, out of a large inheritance left solely to her by her mother. But that isn't the only requirement. She must kill, must become part of the club, if she is to leave. Though I think the audience is meant to believe that it is her would-be killer calling her a cunt that makes her do the unthinkable, I think that is just what pushes her over the edge of the cliff that she had long been standing on. The ability to kill, the desire to kill men like this was already with her. She could chose any method for murdering him, but she choses to literally emasculate him and then leave him to bleed to death, not because she doesn't want his death on her hands but just because she can't be bothered by him anymore and bleeding to death without a dick provides a slow, painful, and humiliating death. And it was a bit cheeky for her to get her membership tattoo in the spot usually designated for a "tramp stamp."

So I'm left wondering if it was the movie, with its twisted themes of female empowerment and male emasculation, that made me feel better or just finishing something that I've wanted to do for so long, even if that finishing only took me an hour and a half. Maybe it was just that it got me to think about why such a not-good movie could make me feel so good....

Friday, April 04, 2008


I think maybe I'm just starting to get old.

After getting a job so that I can pay off my stiffling hospital bills and how on earth I'm going to afford a divorce on top of that, the next biggest thought in my head is what I'm going to do about losing my health insurance after the divorce. I'm in my mid-twenties, for Chrissakes. I should be worrying about shopping and drinking, maybe finishing school. Not HEALTH INSURANCE!

But I am worrying about health insurance. I currently know how much a gall bladder surgery can cost, even after your health insurance company is done haggling down the prices and paying their 80% and it is quite a fair amount. But even beyond that, I have chronic depression. I would like to someday get to a point where every little setback does not send me on a self-harm/suicide spiral. I believe that this will require not a small amount of counseling over a not small amount of time. Finding the right therapist can be hard, much less finding that right person and developing a trusting relationship with them. That requires staying on the same health plan for that period of time, or having each health plan after cover the same doctors and therapists. Even if I didn't have worries about "pre-existing conditions" that might not be covered by a new insurance after a period of not being insured, I am loathe to go back to being uninsured because I can't afford to pay out of pocket for mental health services and the only avenue available to me, the local country mental health agency, takes far too long to actually help a person. When my meds seemed to have stopped working last fall, I was told it would take three months to get into the prescribing nurse practioner. When I think about all I went through when I started a new medication, which actually made me feel worse, I dread to think what would have happened if I had to wait three months to get the medication changed. Fortunately for me, I had private health insurance at the time and a private prescribing doctor who I could get in to see within a few days for a med check-up.

Then again, all this thinking about health insurance makes me think about how we establish other forms of insurance in our life. How it is becoming increasingly obvious to me that love, relationship, and marriage are just insurance plans against loneliness, having to deal with the hardships of the world alone, never having sex again, and any number of other things that one wants to avoid and that their partner can provide. Knowing the histories of both BT and TyRoy, I can't help but wonder how much I am just insurance to them. Then again, how much are they/ have they been insurance to me as well? Fuck. Too late for this kind of thinking. Wish I didn't have to do this kind of thinking at all. Wish my marriage had just worked like it was supposed to so I could currently be heartbroken over my husband being gone and just hoping to find a job, maybe planning on doing full-time temp work just to earn enough so that I could pay the hospital bills all by myself instead of using BT's hard-earned money that he wants to use for our future. Now there is no future. Yeah, it's too fucking late to be thinking about this.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Long Time, No Post

Hello loyal readers. Well, you'll notice that there are several new posts that are back dated to when they happened in my head, but that I didn't post at the time for several reasons, the biggest one being that I have just been to fucking depressed to do much of anything and have been spending most of my time dealing with stuff with BT. Whatever isn't me directly dealing with stuff with my husband is basically me running away from dealing with stuff with my husband, or at least finding something to distract me from it.

The short of it marriage is falling apart, will probably be ending soon. Depending on who you talk to and what their opinion is and which of us they are friends with more, it could be either of our faults or both of our faults. And, in all reality, I will gladly accept all the blame. There is a big part of me that feels like I should just be able to deal with this stuff, work around all of it, be a good wife to my deployed soldier. And I have tried. I really have. And, until I finally said that I was leaving, I went by the vows that BT and I made, which aren't the marriage vows that everyone makes, as we started with a (negotiated) open and honest relationship. While I don't want to get into too much detail, the problems that I felt I could no longer deal with had to do with money mismanagement and all the lying and hiding that I felt was going on with BT. Maybe I should have given it more time. He kept asking for more time. He also said that all of it would change when he got back, because I would be there to make sure it didn't happen. But I didn't want to be the one to do the changing for him. I don't want to be his mother or his babysitter. Doesn't mean I don't love him though. But I couldn't take the heartbreak that I felt everytime something new would be revealed, everytime I really believed that the last time was the last time only to find out that it wasn't. Mom always says that you know when it's time to go. And it is.

But I also think if you were to ask BT, he would say that our marriage is ending because of new "sex in a box" that I have. For the sake of the blog, we'll call him TyRoy. (I'll post an explanation later. It was his choice of psuedonym.) The short of that story is that I answered a Craigslist post from a man who wanted someone to talk to because he was having a hard time. I was too. It was early January. My grandpa had just died. My husband had just left for his mobilization site and I wasn't supposed to see him again until he got back from deployment. The guy was really nice. He was going through a bitter divorce from his wife, who he still felt like was his bestfriend. Because he was in the Army himself and had gotten back the year before from a year-long deployment (his second to Iraq), he knew how hard it could be to be a family going through a deployment. When BT got emergency leave because we were fighting hardcore over money issues (and other issues), TyRoy wrote an email to both of us, about how we could help each other. It was just friendly and we didn't exchange pictures or stats or even talk on the phone for quite a while. Until, that is, I answered another CL ad, a man looking for a woman to do some kink stuff with, attaching my picture, as I usually do. The next day, I found out it was the same guy that I'd been talking as friends with for the past month or so. Eventually, we decided to meet and then hook-up, but just as sex in a box. BT didn't veto me meeting him or having sex with him or staying over at his place, even though BT did/does have a huge problem with the fact that this guy is an officer. (For those fellow civilians unfamiliar with the military world, from all my experience with BT, enlisted men HATE officers and, not only are soldiers not supposed to fuck other soldier's spouses, but officers REALLY aren't supposed to fuck enlisted soldier's spouses.) Besides that, it was a good arrangement and we both supported each other in our other endeavors. I supported him in his search to find others to have sex with. He supported me in the same way and in trying to work on my marriage. In all honesty, even though my husband doesn't believe it, he was the real final holdout, telling me to stick with BT, work through it because he could tell how much I love him. But after I had finally decided to end the marriage, because of several factors, like the fact that I'd be closer to a job that it looked like I was going to take and to make fucking easier, TyRoy and I started talking about/around the subject of living together. And just the other day, he had made mention of marriage.

It's an interesting and difficult situation. Obviously, it doesn't make me look any less the bad guy in the divorce, though I've pretty much accepted that I'm the bad guy and that isn't going to change. I still love my husband very much and would be with him if I could deal with the other things that come along with it. I care very much for TyRoy. (Damn, I kinda hate that psuedonym because it makes it so much harder to talk in a serious way about anything. Oh well.) But I am not in love with him right now. I'm not ruling out that possibility, but it just isn't how it is right now. And I honestly don't think he's in love with me right now. I'm kinda glad about that though. I got swept off my feet once before and I think I probably swept BT off his feet too and look where that got us. I also know that I probably shouldn't be rushing into something serious so soon, or probably at all, but it was kinda serious before I even realized it and I can't just rewind and make it different. I also don't really know if I want to be with a military man again after all this. TyRoy will probably be stationed here for another couple years and then he'll go wherever they tell him to. Depending on the state of the wars America is involved in, he'll probably get deployed again from wherever we are at, which will be a place where I'll have no friends and family. What draws me to this, and I think TyRoy too, is, in large part, the convenience and ways in which we fit what the other is looking for. Neither of us wants to be monogamous. Both of us want fulfilling, supportive relationships (both sexually and otherwise) where we truly be ourselves and pursue those things that we want to. Also, we both do care about each other and want to take care of the other person. And, hell, that might really be what a good relationship/marriage is made of. Not this wonderful, amazing, make everything else disappear kind of love, but just the everyday dealing with things together and taking care of each other and promoting what the other wants to do.

But, for the most part, I'm kinda useless. I can't blame it all on the state of my marriage, though. Maybe I can blame it on the depression, but I'm not sure about that either. Maybe I should just blame it on being a lazy bum who wants to sleep all day. I fucked up the one job that I had lined up, though I probably shouldn't have wanted or taken that job anyway because it was.... complicated. I really need to get on looking for a job so that I can support myself, no matter what happens with BT or TyRoy or anyone. Plus, the health insurance company is finally coming through on paying their part of my hospital bills from my gallbladder surgery so I have to come up with my co-pays. Granted, the co-pays aren't nearly as much as the full surgery but they aren't exactly cheap either. And I really REALLY want to get myself back together enough to go back to school and finish. Well, finish getting a Bachelor's Degree. That degree might not actually get me more money at a job or anywhere at all really, but I have to at least say that I was able to do it. How many completely worthless assholes do I know who've had their BA for years and years now??? I was supposed to be the golden child and I can't manage to get mine in, what, 7+ years??? Come on now. But, that is what is up with me right now. Please feel free to comment, berate, whatever.