Behind the Mask

I'm feeling a little bit low today. It's not my way to share, when I'm feeling down. It's usually only retrospectively that I tell people I've had a period of sadness, for example. R would laugh at that - he thinks I give a constant running commentary of my status about everything to everybody, but actually he only sees that because I share everything with him. With others - not so much. So I'm not quite sure why I feel motivated to do a brain-dump today, but I'm trying something new. I would like to avoid the escapist happiness whilst out socialising followed by private misery, so I'm going to record my feelings here. By venting my feelings, perhaps a little bit of equilibrium can be attained.

I've taken some risks recently, and in doing so I've made myself very vulnerable. Maybe this is the reaction to that. I've let people see my body, and now I'm feeling unattractive, made entirely of lard, I think my hair looks horrible at the moment, I look like a twat in photos, I'm gross, gross, gross. Looking at other people's pictures and feeling wistful - it must be lovely to be like that, why do I have to be so yucky?

But, to be honest, I'm used to feeling like that - it's not such a big deal. The fact that I've exposed my naked body to ridicule can join company with exposing my clothed body to ridicule on a daily basis.

It's the stuff in my head - my mind - that I'm feeling the most self-disgust and loathing for right now. I feel ugly - in my head. I slept badly last night and had nightmares. For the last couple of days I've been feeling fragile, insecure, unlovable. I've firmly set that aside and got on as if behaving as if I wasn't feeling that way.

I've written some things recently that I wish I hadn't. The whole blog thing - I've never written down anything like that before. Neither am I in the habit of writing down fantasies or erotic stories. I've never done it before - ever. I have to force myself past the inhibition - because I know if R read it, and be really uncomfortable, finding it overly sexualised. His reaction would be to laugh, nervously, and then quickly change the subject, if he ever saw anything like that. The same way he reacts if I try and be overtly sexual with him in any other way. And this makes me wonder if perhaps others react like that, too. Perhaps they wish I would keep my thoughts to myself, and not embarrass them by sharing TMI.

I've written down a couple of fantasies recently, and sent them to N, and now I'm wondering why the hell I did that. The first one was relatively tame, to test the water, as it were, and the second one was more edgy. I know it grossed her out, and she didn't find it erotic. She said it was interesting, and revealed a lot about my mind, but when I asked what, she basically said - don't go there. Leave it.

I feel sickened by my mind, my body, and my sexuality at the moment.

Part of the reason why others have always perceived me as 'odd' is because I make them uncomfortable. I'm too quiet, then this is followed by something TMI and unusual coming out of my brain. This disquiets people. Am I doing this to all my friends and they're usually just too polite to say? Is my sexuality something best left unexplored and unfulfilled, because I'm basically so damaged that I'm broken?

That's when I'm not pissing people off by being an anally retentive control freak and annoying everyone in my life by planning things in advance to the nth degree.

Definitely having a couple of days where I just feel like going out to the garden and putting my head face down in the soil and letting the rain fall on me.

And now I'm worrying that by sharing how I feel, I'm being all high maintenance and drama queen, and needy, and demanding things of people. I find it very difficult to ask for what I need, in many respects. It's hard for me to ask for reassurance at the time when I need it - usually because it means I'm feeling vulnerable, and showing that, asking for something, means making myself even more vulnerable. Fuck, I can't even get this bit of myself right. What a mess. Just - what a mess.