Musings of the Night

I realised that the reason I was getting defensive was because I once also held those negative beliefs about myself, but through therapy and time, that version of me is now outdated. Through a practice of self trust, I live and see myself differently than before. So I got frustrated with him because I worked and continue to work hard on myself and see real change only for him and some people in my life to be stuck on old versions of myself. It can feel like…what’s the point of all this effort??

I have all this soul, desire, and ambition that requires acceptance and understanding from the people in my life. I don’t want to be caged, I want freedom, but I’m also so lonely it’s hard to breathe. My relationships are so customised and against traditional relationship structures that it feels like a fight all the time. I’m tired. I don’t like fighting so hard for my existence in almost all the layers in my life.

I want to be held, admired, respected, and accepted; but, why is it so effortless for everyone else to find that balance than it is for me? Why is it so hard? How can I learn to be satisfied?

Nevertheless, the song and dance began that moonlit evening.

She observes him, as he fumbles to advance and lead— “Where will his hands go? What parts of me would he desire? How does he feel?” The anticipation shouting in her head.

“Should I lead?,” she asks noticing his lack of direction. To which he replied with tentative approval. In retrospect, she should have noted the passivity then.

She began to undress and position herself on top of him, asserting dominance symbolically, because in truth, although she had experience, she was never in the position to backlead. It required too much of her energy and a social acumen she didn’t possess. Nevertheless, she proceeded to service with feigned confidence and foolish courage.

Her mind rushed with doubt to provide an enjoyable experience, for it was his first time. The inner critic reprimanding her choices on top of questioning her reality—“Why does your hand do this? Is this where your tongue should go? Shouldn’t you check in? Did you lotion today? Does your breath smell good? Is he even enjoying? Are you capable of satisfying your dear friend?”

She was surprised with the result of her advances. Usually sensations are heightened for her when drunk off Mary Jane, but the proceedings of this interaction were lukewarm. Like tepid water that has been left out—slightly off, but hydrates in the end. The exchange felt stagnant and monotonous.

They continued going through the motions to the point of disingenuous performance. She explored his body and allowed him to explore hers, continuously hoping for an allegro, would settle for an adagio, but really yearning for a union of both that would never come.

She devolved herself to a tool, one in which he could use in accordance to his motives, and stripped of a voice. An inanimate approach to body flight.

The arbitrary contact of their lips, the slushing sounds of their body, and the eyes that never meet were all too agonizingly sobering when juxtaposed to her expectations.

It turns out, he wasn’t interested in her. The ritualistic escalation, an almost gynecological exploration, and the clumsy glibness that would never pass as expressions of genuine desire made it clear to her that they were both out of sync. Threads of a skein that would seemingly never meet.

This unyielding fact broke her spirit. She found herself envious of the imaginary fortunate that held his affection. Why couldn’t she be enough? What was the marsh missing in her garden? Her envy turned to lonliness, which she forced into dissociation in order lick the burgeoning wounds in her pride.

Clearly I was fixating.

My two left feet in this emotional tango with the Mistress of Envy illuminated how easily I can be destabilized by this fleeting feeling. The first step in healing is to recognise you have a problem. I needed to confess to myself that I was ashamed of feeling this way, ashamed of how I’m trying to cope, and ultimately ashamed of myself. But from there, of course, the anxiety merry go round was back on schedule. Has this fling with jealousy turned into something more long term? Am I going to have to soothe and pacify this parasitic leech until the day I die? What if being a “jealous person” becomes part of my identity without me realising? All this spinning is killing me by centrifugal force.

I’m trying to find compassion to deal with these complex emotions and mental spiraling, so I did that in the best way I could: I asked myself different questions. If I stripped out the intense intermittent and looming presence of jealousy in my emotional repertoire, I recognised more comcretely my unmet needs and desires on how I want (or my partner) to approach my vulnerability.

I’m feeling too raw at this time to elaborate on those specific needs in writing, but I’m making progress and will get there someday.

For context, I was telling my partner how much I loved a show when a person just emerged out of their room and almost demanded one of us to tell them about the show. I can welcome this interest if I wasn't mid-sentence in explanation with another person. But the fact that I was interrupted then commanded to allocate my time and discussion to someone that doesn't have any value to offer me is incredibly annoying. A discussion has to have an equal exchange of respect. How do you handle when there's no incentive to talk with someone who talks over you in a discussion? Who doesn't listen?

The framing of the question was also incredibly rude imo, "what's this show about? And skip the prejudice. I just want to know exactly what the fuck is going on?" No one has to indulge your curiosity, especially when the approach was so abrasive. It comes across as entitled.