There is something wrong with me

Yes, I think there is something really wrong with me.  I watch this extreme porn that is degrading and humiliating to women.  It's the only kind I like.  I want to see the women hurt, extremely.  That is not good.  I don't think it's good.

I would like to be touched.  Hugged, cuddled, loved.  I would even love to have sex.  But I can't.  For a few reasons.  The main one right now is that I am terrified of men.  Strike that.  I am terrified of people.   And you sort of have to hang out with people before they will touch you.  People scare the shit out of me.

Except of course for my infatuation flavor of whatever day it is.  I mean, it's still sort of F, but since I no longer see him or live in his town, then I'm not gonna be doing much with him, am I?  Even if it's mooning over him.

I saw this amazing video that deconstructs what is going on with the characters Laura and Paul from "In Treatment".  I've seen this video before on youtube, but was watching it mainly because I love that storyline.  Come on, it's about a chick who is in love with her shrink.  What else am I going to be interested in, right? 

Here're the links, there are actually two awesome ones:    In Treatment: Laura testing Paul  and   In Treatment: Understanding Laura

Anyway, this therapist takes apart what Laura is doing, and it is exactly the same shit I pull all the time.  But it doesn't say she is bad or gross or that it's "her fault".  In fact, it sort of lambasts Paul and his crappy therapy.  Paul doesn't handle her testing well at all.  And he lets her down.

One thing this therapist states is that Laura was most probably sexually abused, probably by her father.  That doesn't turn out to be true later in the show, but we do learn she had an affair when she was 16 with a much older man.  I guess I should not call it an affair.  I guess I should say she was taken advantage of.  I should say she was abused.  Anyway, I sort of did that.  Or at least I tried. 

See the difference between Laura and me is that I never follow through with my guys.  Or they never follow through with me.  I needed someone to take a little more overt action because I was scared to death and didn't know what to do.  But if I had known what to do, I would have done it.  I was waiting for them to touch me first, and they never did.

I guess I am writing about Uncle Kevin.  And yes, he's my uncle by marriage to my mom's sister.  Not actually blood related to me.  But I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager that blossomed into an even huger crush when I visited them when I was 20, just turning 21.

All this stuff with F, it falls right in line with what went on with Kevin.  It's the same damn pattern over and over, and it never gets satisfied.  I never actually have an affair with these men, I just pine and pine and pine and hurt over them and never do anything.  And feel guilty for even liking them in the first place because they are so inappropriate for me. 

So What the Fuck Did I Talk to F About?

So yeah, first let me state that I'm wasted.  I don't know if I'll let Lara read this because of my drunkenness.  It would get me kicked out of group.  Whatever.  Fuck it.

So, Dr. F and I, what did we talk about?  Well, he said Hi, I said Hi and it went on from there.  He asked me what I had been up to since November.  I told him I went to detox, then to rehab, then to WIIT.  I told him I had been treated for my trauma, even though I was not able to remember anything.

Yeah, so fuck F.  I don't want to talk about him anymore.  He may have not have meant to fuck me up, but he did; so he deserves no more of my time tonight.  Fuck him.  Fuck him, fuck him.  In fact I am so sick of this shit that I almost want to be direct and just tell him.  Fuck him.

I went out tonight with Sarah, and old friend from Gville.  We wound up at her local lesbian bar, partying hard.  It was fun.  Except that alcohol makes me puke and gives me a headache.  But I had fun.  And I want to write some songs.  Good times.

I'm still pretty wasted, although I've already done a pretty thorough round of puking already.  I'm going to go walk on the beach, swim and think about F and what I would say to him if I could just talk to him and not chicken out.  I am also going to hop the beautiful glass fence to the condos down the street and go in their hot tub.  Good times.  I will also listen to my Ipod.  I love technology.  Good night for now.

Goddamn It, I talked to F Again

And it went great.  As in not.  Not good at all.  OK, let's clarify.

For the past few weeks I have been doing anything I can to distract myself.  I'm not sure what I am distracting myself from, but I know that I have been doing dipshit stuff.  I wanted to start working as a body rub girl, jerking guys off for money.  I somehow stopped myself from doing that, even though the option is not totally erased from my mind.

Next, I relapsed on DXM (Rob, as Lara likes to call it).  I did that three times, for about a week. I was honest about it in group, and decided to stop.  But everyday I think about it and want to do it.  If I could do group and DXM, I'd be popping pills right now. 

Now most recently, I have started thinking about F again.  Yes, the F that I was so infatuated with last year.  I haven't really thought of him for months, but now the feelings started right back up again.  The same burning in my chest, the unbearable restlessness and the feeling of I have to do something NOW.  And of course, what I want to do NOW is talk to F.  And start up the whole damn thing over again.  Fuck.

I told Lara I wanted to call him and her unequivocal response was "NO".  She suggested I talk to the group about it, so I did for the last few minutes on Tuesday.  I could feel myself acting like a nutcase- giddy, grinning and acting like a teenager.  It's like an electric shock through my system, the feeling when I think about him.  It's fun and definitely like a drug.  Everyone in group ALSO thought it was a crap idea to call him.

So, guess what I did in the car as I left group?  I called him.  I left a voicemail message saying I had a question for him and left my number.  The office secretary said he works at that office only on Mon and Weds, so I didn't expect to hear from him that day.

On Weds I kept my phone on me all day, even leaving it on in group in case he called.  I was not going to miss his call.  He didn't call by about 3pm, so I left another message on his voicemail, saying I was hoping to talk to him about a letter and getting some records.  Total bullshit, but a valid reason as I still need to medically petition for my money back for my last semester.  I wish I hadn't left the second message giving a "real" reason to talk to me.  I wanted to see if he'd call me just to talk to me, but I messed that up by putting a valid business reason for the call.  Oh well.

So guess what!  He called me.  Which is pretty amazing, as he never called me back in a timely manner last year.  It was always like three days later.  Maybe he's got his shit together more this year.  So he called at about 5pm.  I almost don't want to go into what we talked about.  I don't want to get it wrong, and I don't want to put the work into getting it right.

Hilariosity: Look at this Fucking Hipster

This is awesome. I wanna live in Williamsburg. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!   The land of the fucking hipster.
WWW.LATFH.COM

AWEsome.

AA? AA!!

So as I've mentioned, I'm on the white knuckle roller-coaster these past few days. Or for the past week. So today I figured if I wanted some company and didn't want to drink, then I should go to a meeting. The only reason I went was so that I could hang out with some people afterwords and get something to eat. So I went to the women's meeting at lambda.

The meeting blew- it was a speaker meeting and I didn't really groove with the speaker. She tried, but I just didn't connect with her. But we all went to a diner after and that was cool. Some woman sort of attached herself to me and kept talking about how important it was to talk to other people; that it doesn't come naturally and that she has to practice. It was very good advice. At first I thought maybe she was either hitting on me or trying to take me under her wing as a daughter figure, but then realized that she was just uncomfortable because she was shy and didn't know anyone either. It went well.

I met with Ethel today, and I didn't want to talk, so I talked about how my drug experiences felt. I'm not sure if it was a very profitable session. We got a bit into how I have no core, and that's why I won't attach to people. I may be able to fake people out for a while, but I don't want to have them be around for long because they will soon find out they are around a ghost. Or worse, a sucking, needy, puling black hole that could destroy them. Or at least make them very unhappy. I stay away from people so I won't hurt them, and so they won't be disappointed in me.

I'm sober right now even though I REALLY wanted to go to a bar tonight. I'm home in my PJ's, so if I don't leave then I'll stay sober until tomorrow. I guess that's good.

I want to ride my bike to IOP, but I'm afraid it's too far. That I'll get too tired. We'll see. I can't make a decision about it, there's some emotionality attached to it that I don't understand. I feel like if I don't ride then I'm a wimp and can't follow through on things. Sort of like my "job" problem of the last few days.

Whatevs. It's time to stop writing and watch Dorian Gray. Yay Colin Firth.

Google Maps to the Rescue?

So I checked the distance on Google Maps from the mall to our house. Only 5.8 miles. Not that far. Far enough, I guess. I think I hate her.

Here I Come Again

So I'm writing again because Lara wants me to write. I would like to take some of the credit, but hell, I really don't want to write. But I am at my wit's end and don't know what else to do, so here it is, me writing.

I've been fighting, white knuckle fighting, doing something/anything destructive for the past few days. Over the weekend I was sure I was going to use. Either drink and pick someone up or do DXM and maunder on the beach after watching Dorian Gray. But I didn't. But I still want to. It's early enough still tonight for me to go get some alcohol and be a dumbass.

We have a ton of new people in group, which I wasn't thrilled about at first, but am now glad of it. They are going to bring new energy, new perspectives. Good times.

I really do hate myself. And when I hate myself, I'm embarrassed that I'm still alive. I think I want to kill myself. Ugh. But I think I do.

My watch is too damn big and was fucking up my typing so I just took it off. I guess if I'm going to die, then should I have fun first? I was in this same place in March, when I sent my super-duper awesome email to Dr. . Yeah, there was a veiled "hey wanna fuck?" question in there, but the bulk of the email was about how I hated myself and wanted to travel, get fucked up and jump trains until I died. But somehow that whole part got ignored. Wonder why?

So.... I am coming to grips with the fact that my mom might just suck royally. But I'm not there yet. It would be easier if I could remember some really horrible thing she did to me, but there isn't anything. She just was mean and extremely unpredictable and unsafe. She hit me. She dragged me on the floor. She kicked me. She slammed my head by my hair all the time in the car. She broke my stereo, my most prized possession. But I figured out how to fix it every time she threw it. Fucking bitch.

She left me at the mall once. I was 16 or 17. It was before college. She got mad at me and left me at the mall. I had to walk home probably 6 or 7 (or more) miles. I remember walking home and being so embarrassed. I stopped to eat at a pizza place and somehow felt that everyone could see how gross I was, how contaminated and tainted. I felt like an other, like an "it", but a gross, unwelcome "it", not a neutral being. I was tainted. I just remember being shamed.

When I finally got home I walked back in the house through the front door. I remember trying to decide: front door or through my window? For some reason I chose the front door. Walking through the door was harder than the whole walk home. I just sort of wished I could die and not have to face her. She was sitting in the living room watching TV and didn't say a thing to me. It must have been hours later, it was a LONG fucking walk, with a stop to eat. And she didn't say a thing to me. nothing.

How could she do that to me? How could she not say "I am so sorry, I know I got mad, but I never wanted you to have to walk all by yourself all that way." Or "I went back to look for you and couldn't find you, I'm sorry." She had no idea if I had money or not. And this was long before I had a cell phone. She left her kid alone miles and miles from home and didn't give a shit.

But I did have money. I don't remember if I had my backpack, but I almost ALWAYS had it with me as a teenager, and it was exactly for reasons like that. In fact, maybe that started the backpack thing? But I remember I always wanted to be ready. I always had money, an extra jacket, writing materials and a book. I was safe then. Set for anything. I didn't need her, or safety, or knowing I had a ride home. I could take care of myself. Fuck her. I think. I mean, is leaving me awful? It feels awful, but maybe it's no big damn deal. I mean it's not being raped. It's not being beat up... It's just being... left.