journal: 1.1.09

this is actually a journal entry, so if you're not interested in reading what's going on in the jungle of my subconscious, stop reading here.

these last few weeks have been a complete blur... stealing my 1st kiss, my 30th birthday, friends from outta town, Christmas...

suddenly today, it is 2009. within the first 8 hours of this brand new year: i received a New Year's kiss from a boy who ended up biting my arm, got hit on by a real live Korean boy, had the most amazing dance experience of my life, got a 4:30am booty call (which i rejected, of course), and then after 78 minutes of slumber, i rushed my friend to the airport.
eh. i know it sounds like a lot of things, but it sounds much more dramatic than it actually was.

i guess i'll just recount the events until i get tired...

so, i've had the sneaking, creeping awareness that i've got a thousand complexes, many of which are rising to the surface after being cheated on by a man i had been with for nearly a decade. at this point, i can't even begin to describe what this trauma was like. deeply loving someone to whom i completely committed my life to. committed to someone i knew was pretty imperfect. unable to emote. a liar. a coward. someone who brought out some of the worst things about me. someone who suppressed the things about me that made me happy and whole. plus, he really sucked in bed.

i suppose i could recount the things about him that make him a human and not a monster; there were genuinely some good qualities about him, but why waste my time? at this juncture, why make myself crazy? i refuse to reflect upon the termination of that relationship with regret. i refuse to stay stuck and let him continue to degrade me. life will move forward even if i don't.

but obviously, i've been affected. being with this man really caused me to shrink tightly into a shell, made my insecurities flare, and i really lost my sense of self. in the past six months, i've asked myself: 'who the hell am i?' and 'what the hell am i about?' dozens and dozens of times. i've begun to realize that maybe i'm not a completely awful and boring and shitty person. i really love new experiences. i love reading and writing and talking and laughing and maybe there's still some beauty inside of me.

part of an email:
honestly, as far as the emotional stuff, i'm doing pretty well. the worst of the awful feelings were left behind months ago. i'm not just saying 'screw that' and 'screw Chris' and 'now i'm a crazy liberated woman' or anything like that. God really helped me to heal through a lot of prayer and most of my tears were cried out months ago. i'm aware there's probably some more processing to do, but i'm pretty good for now--i don't like to kid/lie to myself.

i know i've begun to get into the ~crazy~ that is partly me and partly circumstantial. i'm sure it'll get annoyingly exhaustive to anyone who actually chooses to read any of this stuff, but it's my process and i need to get it out somewhere. i've got all these complexes about feeling unattractive and looking like i'm either 14 or 45 years old. i've got the fat-thighs complex that many women suffer from, and also have been feeling like i'm dumber than a mud brick.

when the world as i knew it was shattered, some shards were lost. it's obvious where some of those larger jagged pieces fit, but i want to leave those to lie on the peeling linoleum for now. i'm putting it together as best as i can w/o doing too much more damage. i want to feel whole again but need work on things in my order and timing... as a woman. God's consistently prodigal daughter. damnit. when will i ever learn?

i know i've been explicating about all these encounters that i've been having with men, and most people might read all this and think that i'm being pathetic. that all i want to do is to jump into another relationship. that i need a man to affirm me or something.

to be honest, i recognize some of that bullshit inside of me. i despise it b/c it makes me feel weak. but every human being on earth needs to be validated in certain ways. either way, it's not a relationship i'm looking for. i'm certainly not healthy enough to be in relation with someone right now.

the woman element of my being has been a difficult and tricky arena for me to navigate these days. i shouldn't have something to prove to myself, but my sense of womanhood is in dire need of repair. though i've actually been applying makeup to my face and dressing more feminine these days, i still feel like i look like the 14 year old tomboy that i used to be.
my girlfriends admonish me when i slip into this kind of murky self-deprecation, but it's hard to see what they see. these beautiful amazing women give me a lot of love and are always quick to point out my redeeming qualities. though i have no reason to disbelieve them, i feel like some of their encouragement is bred on the commonality of our XY chromosomes.
i know. i'm damaged.

anyway, about three weekends ago, i got dressed up in a little brown dress that hid all the fat parts, accentuated all the skinny parts, and gave the illusion that i actually had some cleavage. i didn't actually notice that i had any cleavage until i noticed that some guy was trying to look down my dress. you're a barbarian... but do you think i'm pretty?

anyway, after having a few glasses of wine and then heading to another bar to meet with a friend, i did what i always do whenever i hear a good beat. i make any floor i'm standing on a dance floor.

a decade ago, when i used to dance as much as i'm dancing now, i was always too shy and generally disinterested to dance w/ a partner. these days i've occasionally been consenting to b/c of the powerful sense of femininity that fills me, knowing that the guy totally wants my body. you may want to call me a woman of ill repute to say this, but hell: that raw animal urge that i can see in a man's eyes, desiring me, wanting to touch my skin and fuck my brains out is pretty hot.

inside the dusky heat and twinkling Christmas lights in this dive bar, i danced and consented to let this guy move to the beat against my body. i could feel the warmth of his hands on my waist. even after we finished dancing and i went back to my friends, i could practically taste the waves of his attraction. he kept on looking in my direction and smiling.

i think i want to be kissed. press my lips against someone else's lips... i forget what that even feels like.
how do you make such a thing happen? in a public place? i didn't want to go home w/ anyone, but...
I want to get at least one kiss away from the ex. these thoughts built up as the night wore on until finally it was time to go home.

the taxi's waiting Mary!
damnit.

i stalked over to the guy i had danced with. i watched his eyes rove over my body as i approached him. grabbing the front of his shirt, i pulled him toward me forcefully and pressed my lips against his. he put his arms around me and enthusiastically kissed me back. his lips were soft and he actually knew what to do with his tongue. it was nice. i got what i wanted and gave that guy a little thrill.
so when our lips disconnected, i didn't even bother to look up at him as i turned around, left the bar, and hopped into the cab.
i'm a woman damnit.