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  • Urghhh. I need to go out to Pride but I'm bloated and on my period and, frankly, nervous.

    Washed my clothes last night, though, and exfoliated all the goofy sunburned skin off my chest today (baking soda works so well for that). Just ate a big bacon and egg breakfast, also. I'll probably head over in like an hour. It goes until 8, and I already missed the parade, so whatevs.

    Blah, I wish I felt less sluggish.

    I also wish I wasn't going alone.

    _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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    • If we lived in the same city, I'd totes hang out with you at Pride.
      “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

      Owly's Journal

      Comment


      • Well I went and got proud. I nearly didn't because I have bad cramps and nausea today and spent the morning on the toilet.

        I hate to say this, but I'm not sure it was worth it. I mean, I got out and got some sunshine and exercise, so that's good, but I was lonely and bored, and near the end I felt like I had heat stroke. I was extremely dehydrated, but I didn't want to spend $2 on a bottle of water. At first I just had severe cottonmouth, but then I started feeling extremely tired and weak and dizzy. So I did end up buying one, grudgingly. I didn't end up feeling any better until after I got out of the sun and into air conditioning though.

        So yeah, it kinda sucked. I walked around the whole setup about 4 times. I didn't see anyone especially lust-worthy, but I saw a lot of couples. Eventually I sat near the entrance and played my favorite game (gay edition), where I look at all the couples I see and try to imagine what their sex must be like. Sometimes it's gross and sometimes it's hilarious. Mostly it's just gross, though.

        I was planning on staying for all of Pride, but honestly I was just too bored and too wiped out to stay. And frankly I just was not having a great time. A couple people chatted with me briefly, but only one person hit on me: A creepy old guy. AT PRIDE. I GOT HIT ON BY A CREEPY OLD STRAIGHT GUY AT PRIDE. I wish I were kidding. I am so tired of this. In standard creepy guy fashion, he made the usual reference to my "husband", which then puts me in the position of having to say "I am not married", which then confirms that I am "good to go" and they can continue hitting on me. Usually I think this is sad, uncomfortable, and annoying, but this time I was just pissed. I told him pointedly that I am gay. And he actually seemed surprised. AT PRIDE. CREEPY GUY WAS SURPRISED THAT I AM QUEER WHILE AT PRIDE.

        I am still angry about this. Not so much about being hit on by yet another creepy old guy, because that happens ALL the time, but because I am being mistaken for straight EVEN AT A GAY PRIDE EVENT. I mean, FUCKING SERIOUSLY??? Apparently I possess some sort of blindingly hetero aura that is so intense it makes it seem perfectly reasonable that I just wandered, lost and confused, into Pride. Like, by accident. Because I'm sooooo straight. Just shove the dicks in my mouth. Gargle gargle. I love it. So straight.

        I AM SICK OF THIS. SO, SO SICK OF THIS.

        _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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        • Maybe you should just look on the bright side that our society has come so far that it is completely normal for a straight gal to attend Pride.
          And, let's face it, creepy old guys are going to hit on you no matter where you are. And be surprised that you are ANYTHING that is not thrilled with them.

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          • Blah.. I don't know, I'm just really sick of creepy old dudes aggressively hitting on me. 90% of them are missing teeth, even. Sure, at first it was hilarious. Now it's not. It keeps happening, over and over and over, and I am feeling more and more defensive, offended, and irate. It's especially sucking the joy out of going to the flea market.

            I am not that angry when it's guys my age. Yesterday, I had at least 3 guys (that I saw) craning their necks, raising their eyebrows in appreciation, and going "Daaaamn" under their breath. I was not interested in them, but they each looked like normal, average dudes, and they did not try to approach or harass me, so I took it as a compliment. Granted, I still find it irritating that all the attention I ever get is male, but they weren't being disrespectful.

            It especially boggles my mind because I have hairy legs, I don't wear makeup, I don't wear jewelry, I don't wear heels, and most of my clothes are from the thrift store. Yesterday I wore tight (because I was bloated) green skinny jeans, a brown shirt, brown ballet flats, and a straw hat. I was not wearing anything that I would assume would get me attention from dudes.

            I guess I had high hopes for Pride. I was even hoping I might meet someone. But the only people who talked to me were a couple, a gay guy, people trying to get me to sign petitions, and an older woman with the local feminist chorus, which I am hoping to join (excited about that!). And one very pretty girl who looked right at me with a smile while I was walking past her and said "Hi". I became flustered and blushy and said "Hi" back hurriedly. And then she was gone. She was on her way out of Pride and also she was with someone, so I did not run after her. Maybe I should have.

            I'm sure I'll meet someone eventually. The feminist chorus is doing auditions in august, and the woman I talked to said she would also pass on my number to one of her friends who is starting an at-risk-youth gardening thing. I have not received an email back about the Ohio City Farm gig. I should email again this week. Also, the guy at the gay pet store told me about a lesbian bar in my town that I didn't know about.

            So yeah.. I'm sure I'll meet someone eventually. Hopefully before I go insane. I've been having crazy-intense sex dreams all week and I'm still feeling really starved for human contact. I'm still trying really hard not to just give up again and go date guys. I haven't talked to that guy from the flea market since thursday, and I made sure to tell him I am into girls.

            Blah blah whatever. I am just feeling really grumpy and lonely and undesirable to my target audience. Also feeling kind of tearful about it, probably because I am on my period. I don't know what it is about me that is apparently so unattractive (aside from my novel-sized journal posts full of worms and whiny angst). I don't feel depressed in the same way that I did before, but I do feel very unhappy, hopeless, frustrated, and unattractive. And I kind of feel like I'm going to cry, so I'm off to go distract myself somehow before I do.
            Last edited by Gravyboat; 06-24-2012, 09:24 AM.

            _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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            • If it helps, lefty choirs are good places to meet queer ladies. If I wasn't in a relationship, there are a couple of women in my choir that I'm pretty sure would be into a date or two. I think the choir thing is great because you get to know each other more, so you can be more clear about your orientation than people might assume just looking at you.

              Sorry about the period misery. I totally get where you're coming from on that. Things that I can normally deal with just fine at other times feel so absolutely overwhelming.

              As for creepy old dudes, I will definitely join you in the WTF?! category. I don't know what it is that makes certain men feel so entitled to skeeve on every woman they can. I try to be kind and polite to everyone, and so I'll end up being pleasant to some stealth creeper and then end up practically having to scrape him off to get myself out of the situation. I wish I was better at just saying "fuck off" to them.
              “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

              Owly's Journal

              Comment


              • Originally posted by Owly View Post
                I try to be kind and polite to everyone, and so I'll end up being pleasant to some stealth creeper and then end up practically having to scrape him off to get myself out of the situation. I wish I was better at just saying "fuck off" to them.
                I'm totally the same way. If someone in public gives me a compliment, I smile brightly and say "Oh! Thank you!" Which is all the opening they need to swoop in and start creeping on me. It's like "Dude, I am not flirting with you..... I'm just a nice person." I find it hard to tell people irl to fuck off even if they sorely deserve it. After all, I'm a woman, and I've been socialized to smile nervously and hope that they just stop on their own. It's so stupid and I hate it.

                On the plus side, I've been singing this all morning. I can't wait to join the choir! I've never had the confidence to sing for a band, but I could definitely do a choir.

                _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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                • I love singing with choirs. It's like playing team sports, but with nerds.
                  “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

                  Owly's Journal

                  Comment


                  • I'm mostly excited because I'm actually going to be able to share one of my favorite things in the world with other people. I sing ALL THE TIME alone in my apartment, mostly to my cats. I don't feel comfortable saying this, but I have a really decent singing voice. I almost never sing in front of other people, though, because it's just not something people do in our culture. So it's going to be really fun to be able to sing with others.

                    I've thought in the past about wanting to join a band or something, but I have no idea how one does that, and I'm not sure I'd be very good at writing lyrics. This choir thing also seems like a decent opportunity to get some informal vocal training for free, which I am down with.

                    Confession: I would absolutely LOVE to take opera lessons, but I have never been able to afford to. I sort of doubt I will ever be able to afford to. And that makes me very sad, because I really want to.

                    _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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                    • If you ever get the chance, do. It is really, really awesome.

                      I was a voice major once upon a time, but dropped out because juries were the most terrifying thing ever for me. I love singing with choirs because I feel supported, so even as a soloist I don't feel anxious like I do if I'm all by myself on a stage, especially in a dark, nearly empty theatre with examiners way out there grading every note.

                      It's weird, I can speak in front of a room full of hundreds of people, but singing just feels so much more like baring a really vulnerable part of myself, and being evaluated on it that way was just...awful.
                      “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

                      Owly's Journal

                      Comment


                      • Back down to 219 as my period winds to a close. But I'm still super squishy. Getting kind of impatient for the drop that should be happening any time now.

                        Emailed my therapist today. I haven't seen her for about a year, but I think it's time to start going again. Now that I'm not stagnating anymore, I'm running into new obstacles that I am not really sure how to face.

                        For example, I'm rapidly becoming not-huge, which means I am losing my dating gimmick. I mean, there is a whole community out there of chubby chasers who are so into fat girls that they have been willing to put up with my mental illness and general weirdness over the years. Now I'm emerging (or about to emerge) into the "real world". I'm no longer confined to a small subculture where, frankly, my looks easily outshone the competition. Now I get to compete with everyone. That is terrifying. I'm still pretty big, I don't have a job, I don't have a degree, I'm poor, I don't drive, I still have anxiety and energy issues at times, I have a weird diet, I'm a little too excited about my cats, I have strange hobbies and interests, I have very unique longterm goals that would scare most people off... etc etc. Ironically, by losing weight, I have given up my only advantage. Now I'm basically on the very bottom rung, and it sucks. I was a really good-looking fat girl. I had a niche that I could do well in. Now I'm a dumpy-to-average-looking weird woman. I no longer have a niche, I'm just weird.

                        Same goes for basically everything else in my life right now: I'm stepping out into the real world for the first time and have to start at the bottom of the ladder. I lost a bunch of years of my life and I'm just starting now. Everyone else is above me. Everyone else has interesting shit going on, they have degrees and friends and careers and cars and all sorts of fun things. I have an empty resume, non-existent social skills, and worms.

                        So.. I think it's a good time to go back and see my therapist. Before, we were mostly working on trying to get me to shower, check the mail, and eat every day. And I'm sad to say that it was mostly ineffectual. I still struggled even to get out of bed most days. And apparently she told my dad (who also saw her for his own therapy) that, in her opinion, based on what she could see, I would never be a productive member of society and would never live a normal life. I mean, that's probably the worst prognosis you can get from a therapist, and I got it. But, now that I am doing better --- SOLELY THROUGH DIET CHANGE, I might add, which still seems kind of incredible --- I feel like we can cover other topics now, like how to make friends, forming realistic goals for the future & realistic expectations of myself based on my new abilities, and mourning the loss of a bunch of years. And this time I think I will be in a place where our sessions will actually be helpful.

                        Also, her main strength as a therapist, I have found, is her ability to see positive traits in me even when all I see is a pathetic, pitiful, contemptible slob who can't do anything right at all and would honestly be better off dead. And I could really use some ego boost action right now, as the reality of my social standing truly sets in.

                        _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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                        • Huh. Well, I went to see my therapist today. I was surprised I was able to get in so quickly, but she emailed me this morning saying she had an opening so I went "...Ok!" Anyway, it went well.

                          Heat wave started waving today, and will keep waving all through this weekend. It went up to 100 today. Tomorrow and saturday are supposed to hit 103. I was going to go farm tomorrow, but... yeah, I'm thinking no. Especially because my thighs got chewed up today from walking while sweaty, which means I would need to wear pants, and the only pair of pants I have are thick, stifling, tight denim through which no air will pass. That ain't happening in 103-degree weather.

                          Oh, and I bought a D&D 3.5 manual (in really good condition) at the used book store today for $8! Score! I also bought 'The Vegetarian Myth', by Lierre Keith. I saw an interview of her on Youtube and thought she was wonderful, so I'm excited to read it.

                          I didn't see anything Primal/Paleo/Gary Taubesian at the bookstore. Which is sort of good, because that means either people aren't throwing out their copies (and so people are actually reading, learning from, and keeping the book around so they can loan it out to friends), or other people are snatching them up as soon as they're put on the shelves. I was hoping to snag a cheap book or two for myself, though, so I was a little bummed I didn't see anything.

                          I am really happy I found that D&D manual, though. Do you know how expensive those things normally are? Hint: Really expensive.

                          _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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                          • You are not dumpy-to-average looking, silly. You are quite lovely.

                            I'm glad you're seeing your therapist again.

                            Yay for cheap D&D books! Those suckers are ridiculously expensive.
                            “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

                            Owly's Journal

                            Comment


                            • I have to wonder why you are seeing THIS therapist again, as:
                              the therapy was 'mostly ineffectual';
                              the therapist made remarks about you to your father(from your comment, it sounded like it was during his therapy) which seems wildly inappropriate to me;
                              and lastly,
                              you feel that her thinking you are/would be a unproductive citizen and unable to live a normal life fits into the category of 'seeing the positive side of you'. What?!?

                              Of course, I end up posting this after you have already gone to see her. Poor timing. Hope it was worthwhile for you, in whatever way.

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                              • Hi, Sabine. The therapy was mostly ineffectual because I was essentially an animated corpse. I could barely get out of bed. I'd go weeks without showering. I missed tons of sessions because I could not leave my house. I barely ate because I didn't have the energy even to get up and microwave something. Then I would run out of food and would not be able to leave my house to go buy more. My sleep quality was horrible, and I had no sleep schedule whatsoever because my body was completely unable to regulate itself. On the occasion I did actually get to therapy, I was usually so hungry and exhausted that my vision usually faded in and out and I could barely do anything but cry. Etc. There is nothing psychological that could have helped me in that state. It wasn't because she was a bad therapist, it was because there is nothing that could have helped.

                                What she said to my father was fine with me. For one thing, I signed a release (which was my idea, not hers) saying she could talk to him about me, largely because he was struggling with my "condition" too. He didn't understand what I was experiencing and didn't know how to help. I figured she could help him understand my situation, and that in turn would help me, because someone close to me would know better what I was dealing with and how to help.

                                Secondly, it was actually a huge relief to me at the time to hear that there was no hope. My family was, at that point, convinced that I could somehow snap myself out of it, and they were rude, impatient, and completely unsympathetic to the difficulty of even small, trivial things for me. A normal person doesn't think twice about getting out of bed, taking a shower, brushing their teeth, leaving the house, and living life. For me, even just thinking about doing even one of those things was enough to cause full-blown, weeping panic. For a while, the only way I could go outside was to disassociate. It was really, really bad, and no one around me understood anything about what I was experiencing. They thought I just wasn't trying hard enough, needed more motivation, and they would roll their eyes and express their disappointment. Disappointment in the absolute best I could do.

                                My mother tried several times to pull the rug out from under my feet, because she felt the prospect of homelessness should motivate me to try harder. So there were times that I could barely get out of bed, could not feed myself, desperately wanted to die, could not bear to be seen by human eyes without weeping in terror, and then also had the prospect of eviction hanging over my head. In order to motivate me to get a job.

                                So, having my therapist, who knew me and my situation pretty well, tell my closest relative to give up hope because I really was that badly off, was actually wonderful from my perspective. Because finally they started to take my situation seriously, and think that maybe it was not just something I could shrug off. Finally I got some understanding, and they realized that it really was a huge deal for me to, say, do laundry (which only happened 2-3 times a year because it terrified me). After that, the eyes stopped rolling and I felt actually accepted and understood for what I was: someone in very, very bad shape, who was trying very, very hard to even do the bare minimum for survival.

                                I can understand why, from the descriptions, she might sound like a crappy, horrible therapist. But actually, she's great. If I tell her I am trying the hardest I can, she believes me. If I tell her I should be able do things that are, frankly, beyond my reach, just because other people can do them, she reminds me to be realistic. That other people have not had the issues I have, and so I should not hold myself to the same standards. That I shouldn't judge myself based on what other people can do, etc.

                                Anyway, I'm sure most people don't want to hear that they suck, but I was really useless, and I knew it. I couldn't do anything, and I felt absolutely miserable every single day. I felt my parents' expectations pressing down on me, and I felt guilty and lazy and useless and horrible. So, in my situation, it was actually a relief to hear that someone else could see exactly how bad my situation was, and didn't expect anything out of me, presently or in the future, except for me to accept myself. She was really the first person to actually accept me fully just the way I was, and she passed on a very accurate picture of my situation to my dad, who is now very supportive, and understands the magnitude of everything I do. He now tells me regularly how proud he is of me, and how far I've come, and because of that, I don't feel like a giant letdown anymore.

                                _-J o u r n a l_--------- ---- ---- --- --- -- -- -

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