Disenfranchised

When you’re writing and been single for as long as I have, a funny thing starts to happen: you start to disconnect from your body. You need to disenfranchise yourself in order to get anything done. Writing is the focus; and if I thought about sex and my body as often as I wanted to, I’d truly never get anything done. You see, I have the blessing and the curse of having the sex drive of a man. It’s cruel because I’ve never –pun warning!—positioned myself to make maximum use of this physiological bequest.

So it is important for me to stay (ahem) on top of it; I never want to turn into a person who is sexually shut-down; I’ve been there. No need to go back. Lessons learned.

Which means I make a concerted effort to seek pleasure with myself on a regular basis. And that doesn’t need to be as lewd as it sounds, though by all means, it can be. Sometimes seeking pleasure is a hot bath and a cup of tea; sometimes it’s a nice meal, a movie or a night out with friends, though usually, for me it needs to be quality alone time. Manicures and pedicures also do the trick. Either way, I am never too far away from my sexy self and am quite proud of that. It is one of the rare occasions in my life where I REFUSE to sell myself short.

Except that sometimes, even that is not enough. Sometimes a hot bath just aint gonna cut it.

Being creative for me, sadly means denying my true self on some level in order to get something accomplished. I got it accomplished alright, but at what price?

I’m exhausted.
Fucking exhausted.

I am feeling deprived and wounded. I need a vacation. I feel like I have been working for YEARS without a break. Toiling away in some rice paddy or something. I haven’t of course, but that’s what it feels like. I need some alone time, some me time. I need to reconnect with myself, be grounded, centred and focused. But I am too fucking exhausted.

Communication in my life has been abysmal lately. There have been more crossed wires and disconnects these past two weeks than I have had in my entire life. People misunderstanding, confusing, taking offense. God, I want to curl up in a ball just thinking about it.

If I had the money, I would disappear for a couple of days. I would get on a plane and go to Vegas. I would do a magic trick.

I feel like I am taking care of everyone and everything and barely keeping my own self above water. I need help. I need someone to show up and take me away and ply me with alcohol and let me be myself. I need for people not to misconstrue what I say—I don’t mean harm! I need your love and your approval. I need sleep. I need breakfast in bed. I need frothy coffee in the morning. I need sex. I need love. I need to wake up somewhere different. I need to laugh, I need to weep I need you to see the value in me. I need not to apologize or recognize or legitimize. I need to sleep.

I need a Jell-o shooter.