I've been having a lot of issues with my anxiety lately, and some depression. The last one isn't common for me. Usually it's just anxiety. But depression has moved in, and it gets to drain the color out of my world. It saps me of my motion. Mires me in a bog of nothingness and I don't know where or how to find the energy to change it. The wounds are fresh and they bleed.
I hate it. Even typing this causes me to snarl. It's true. I hate it, but I hate admitting it even more.
I hate the way my anxiety locks me up. It isn't just flight or flight... There is a third option, freeze, which is what my anxiety does to me. That's an old battle. The scars are few now, but those that remain are long, and deep.
New feelings come from inadequacy. The weasels start to run and shift through my brain like a water in a stream. They sneak into nooks and crannies and eat away the good, and there they stay. Eating. Moving. Writhing. Deeper and deeper. Working towards the core of my being. I try to kill them, with my inner light, my inner energy. Some days it works better than others. Some days they are eradicated, except one, that breeds and becomes more. The cycle starts again. Some days they are almost bested, the creatures sneak off, wounded only to lurk and heal and return, their teeth and claws honed. Vicious, with vengeance. The cycle starts again.
I don't self-identify as a vermin myself for nothing. I know I have unattractive and shitty qualities about myself as a person (coyote?) but we all know I'm just going to piss on something every once in a while, and apologize and actually try not to piss on the same thing again, or retreat and go piss outside as to not be around others and create the same mistake. I'm not actually give anyone rabies or send them to the hospital or bite off a finger. Not without some serious provocation and threat to myself, anyway.
But I've followed the weasels. I've seen what feeds them, what makes them bold. I hate talking about it, thinking about it..
...Single
...Woman (coyote?)
... You're 30, almost 31 now
... Look at everyone else
... Who is getting married
... Who is buying houses
... Who is having kids
... The only one who's ever wanted you (that way) can't have you right now, or maybe even ever. The unknown does me no favors.
... What good are you?
... You aren't feminine enough
... Your hair is too short
... You can't do (insert stereotypical femme thing here)
... You're fat
... You have too many brain issues
...Woman (coyote?)
... You're 30, almost 31 now
... Look at everyone else
... Who is getting married
... Who is buying houses
... Who is having kids
... The only one who's ever wanted you (that way) can't have you right now, or maybe even ever. The unknown does me no favors.
... What good are you?
... You aren't feminine enough
... Your hair is too short
... You can't do (insert stereotypical femme thing here)
... You're fat
... You have too many brain issues
That is what feeds the weasels. Fuck them and their appetite! I bite and snap and grab one in my jaws and shake the life from its snake-like body. The rest worry my face and feet, their needle teeth drawing blood with every bite. I drown in a pile of their furred writhing bodies. I succumb to their numbers. Shaking, crying, bleeding. I don't want to but they're too heavy. This isn't a fight I can win right now. I give in.
My cousin is getting married tomorrow (today? This has taken a few days to get out...). I get to pretend to be happy, when in reality I'm trying with all my strength not to lose it, and keep it together. I think the worst part is that no one really even seems to care that I could possibly feel this way about this situation.. "How could you not be happy?" Everyone else in my family is either seriously dating someone or already married and I feel like I get to walk around with a neon sign "LOSER" on me, all the time, especially with this.. And it's not like I'm not happy. I am happy, for them. But I feel lost in within myself.
"Maybe you'll meet someone, weddings area a great place to meet people!" I admire my siblings enthusiasm, but with my sexual appetite the way it is, I'll never get sexual with someone I met in this context which means no relationship can form here. It's way too much pressure and risk to expose myself that way in this crowd. What if word got back to some of my most beloved and trusted family members that I was like this? And I'm not talking just about basic kink or BDSM, I'm talking about the darker shit. The shit that really gets me off. Incest role-plays, the cnc, the fear. My brain shuts that shit down hard. I smile and nod and go "Yeah, maybe you're right," with a smile I hope isn't as fake as it feels and then just make sure the situation never happens. They'll assume I didn't meet anyone and that's fine. I've been open about my kink involvement with my siblings but I've never gotten to the actual core truth of it with them, because, frankly, it's not their business. I just wanted them to know my bruises were consentual and that their worry, while rightfully placed, was unnecessary.
I love myself. I think I'm an incredible person and have an extremely high opinion of myself. I've worked to better myself as a human and a friend and a (coyote) partner. I'm empathetic, understanding, creative, resourceful, kind and brave. Because you know the trope about "Well you shouldn't be in a relationship if you aren't X Y or Z" even though people who aren't X Y or Z are in relationships doing whatever it is they're doing. I wish compatible people had a scent I could sniff out, or maybe emitted a certain pitched noise I could hear. Then I could go up to that person I found and go "We're alike, you and I. Would you want to grab coffee sometime?" and get on with it. Instead, there is dating.
And fuck dating.
I met Silver through Reddit. I'll be posting there again once I find the energy to people sort. Because I remember what happened last time, a hundred messages and then I have to sort them according to who I even want to keep talking to after their first message. And so on. I'm not complaining about the response, I'm grateful people would take the time out of their day to get back to me, it's just exhausting. The small talk. The wonder. The hope that maybe one in a hundred will be even remotely compatible. Because of COURSE you can NOT just type "I'm a kinky pervert and I have a vagina" because then you end up with a thousand dick pics in your inbox and then you just delete your throwaway account or never log back in because fuck going through that.
I don't believe in the idea of soulmates, that terminology and the things connected with it don't jive for me. I do believe that at any one time there are hundreds, maybe even thousands of compatible people for someone who would make an excellent life partner if that's the direction you want your relationship trajectory to go in. It's just the task of finding one that is so throughly daunting.
I guess what I'm trying to say with these so many words is that I've struggled with the feelings above for years. I really thought I'd met my human with Silver and thought I could leave this all behind me and never have to deal with it again. Give myself to another human in the way I desire and enjoy our lives together, but life has not worked out that way, at least not for now and not for the foreseeable future. We will have our time when we can, but not in the way we want in an ideal situation.
So back to the above it is. I see the weasels creep out from the shadows and I know the cycle is about to start again.
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