When your heart is broken

Now that I've behaved like a complete ass, let's make it worse!

( Cut for severe TMI. Click only if you want to read a short but EXPLICIT rant. You have been warned. )

Now that that's out of my system... >.>

For some reason, I've been thinking about the night "Joshua was born."

It was December. We were either in the process of being pummeled by an ice storm, or one had just passed. Either way, it was FUCKING cold out. And about, 3 in the morning. I went out in that mess, walked to the woods, and SCREAMED. I mean LOUD. I'm surprised no one got bitchy, as there are houses not far from there. Maybe they did, and the cops just got there after I was already done profaning the Lord's name and had gone home to TRY to sleep.

The next week or so was sheer hell. And then Scott found out. (Ex boyfriend Scott, not therapist Scott.) That made the next six months hell.

I've realized that I'm not anymore at peace with it than I was that night. More aware is probably the better phrase. For example, that TMI up there (you don't need to read it, just know it's sexual) is a good indication that I'm about to hit a phase where I want to do severe damage to my body for not being male. It used to take me completely by surprise, and the fact that I know it's coming makes it a little easier to cope with.

I don't feel so good. Schoolwork is being put off another day (yey). I just can't do it. I've exercised more self-control today than I've had to in a long, long time, and we all know that self-control isn't something I do well. The fact that I had THAT difficult of a time is indicative that I shouldn't be in a relationship at all, ever, and yet I have a neurotic need to be in one.

But to close this entry on a not-so-emoboi note, RDA started the day with a good belly laugh. Andrea finished her work yesterday right before five, so as soon as Joanna was settled, she went to ask for some more. And stood there, work in arms, talking about BS for TWENTY MINUTES. Someone dared Betty to wheel Andrea's chair up to her so she could get comfy, and Betty did it.

Everyone laughed for about five minutes after that. Just writing about it made me giggle just now. XD

... ya know, I better taste the No Fear first. It might not have a taste suitable for flavored rum. >.>

Oooh, that'll go quite nice with it, never mind.

While he was in the office, I read quite a bit of The Testosterone Files. I have to tell you... at the moment, I want to start drinking and not stop. Drink until I puke and drink some more. Keep drinking until I pass out, get up, and start it again. The number of times I've said, "Holy shit, I thought it was just me" is both comforting and deeply disturbing to me. Max remembering, as a child, how he would throw temper tantrums and scream, "I'm not a girl!" almost had me in tears.

I was a very quiet child. I wasn't strong-willed, and despite the outward appearance, I'm still not. I'm actually quite a weak-minded person. Tears of humiliation at having to wear his Sunday best were, for me, quiet bewilderment: "Do I HAVE to? Can I wear Kyle's clothes instead?" Never vocalized, always just pondered.

The next is TMI. I can't cut it. Stop reading if it bugs you but I just... can't... hide this shit anymore.

Max started his young adulthood and sex life as a lesbian. It was a mode of trying to fit in, to figure out how he belonged. To be honest, a lot of what lead to his epiphany was the result of sex and not understanding his own desires. It wasn't like that for me; it was more or less trying desperately to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. What it came down to was my sense of identity and realizing something was wrong with it.

For a while, as a teenager, I tried to "force" myself to be bisexual. Let me make myself clear here: at 14, I had no idea that I might not be a chick. Developing boobs + bleeding from one's undersides for 7 days at a time = very distinctly female. But I was attracted to females. I still am. I didn't understand what the attraction was... because I couldn't imagine myself with a woman unless I was male. That was shut down REAL quick by the pastor of the cult I was in, declaring homosexuality- ANY homosexuality- to be an unforgivable sin.

I've since written off attraction to women as being intellectual attraction. I'm attracted to women on an emotional level, not a physical one. That's so much bullshit. When I see a hot chick on the street, in one of those teeny-tiny outfits, I outwardly show disdain and distaste. A nice cover for wanting to fuck her living brains out.

But I can ONLY feel such attraction if I'm imagining myself as male. I thought that made the attraction invalid, somehow. But it's not invalid. I think it was Lou who pointed out to Max that he didn't really get anything out of lesbian sex because he had nothing to relate it to. The fact that I can feel attraction for women, in a male mindset, kind of proves to me that I am bisexual.

Another piece of evidence: I can have- rather powerful- fantasies in which I am female. However, these are always, 100% of the time, very violent, abusive fantasies. I won't say "never" when I'm fantasizing as male, but very rarely do my fantasies as a male involve violence or abuse, whether about men or women. Roughness, yes. Violence, no.

I'm sure that's significant but I'm drunk, tired, and shaking. And I have homework to do.

Long post is long. Jesus fucking christ, my mind is going a mile a minute at the moment, and I can't keep up. There's so much I need to get out right now but I CAN'T and my fucking MP3 player locked when I unplugged it from the computer this morning- I can't even go for a walk.

I'm going to take a bath. My apologies if there's another verbal vomit before the end of the night.