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johnpalmerEvery now and then, I feel bad that people don’t understand what’s going on. Part of the problem is that I don’t really have it put together myself.
This gets a bit personal, and deep, and I want to test the LJ cut link anyway, so let me try it here...
I’ve told some of my women friends that I loved them... and they didn’t get the idea that it wasn’t romance. It was friendship, and mostly reassurance. A sense that I hadn’t lost something that I really needed.
I’ve mentioned being envious of certain people. One of them, I think, caught the same idea. Romance (and sex). Now, sex is funny in this situation. My testosterone levels were low when a urologist checked it. It wasn’t crucially low, but it was treatably low. So, now I’m on testosterone supplementation.
Next... well, sex was a bad scene for a while. A woman I’ll call JC was the first woman who ended up wanting sex with me.
It’s a funny thing. She played the “If you loved me, you would do this.” Later, I learned that she was sure it would make me happy. Obviously, she didn’t say that... but when she finally broke my will down, she was sure that it was so wonderful that nothing could be better. It hurt her that it didn’t work out well. It hurt me when I realized that.
But the worst thing was that I had given in to someone manipulating me, and it had been even worse than not giving in. She’d been manipulating me for a long time, and I’d hated it. I don’t get manipulated; I don’t beg. But I was begging her not to keep up the pressure, and I gave in.
Next came a woman I’ll cal WW. She wanted sex too... and when I couldn’t perform right away, she rejected me, even though we were creating magic.
So, there I was... sex was everything towards having a woman who loved you, and that was the one thing I couldn’t do. Love was nothing...even though I could love deeply, and needed to believe that loving meant something.
JC was more than ten years ago. WW was more than 6 (maybe 8?). I’ve never had intercourse successfully yet. Chris, at least, taught me how to pleasure a woman. I no longer had to feel like I to be doing the intercourse thing to be able to find love.
She’s also done much of the work to getting me able to relax so that I’m not panicked about performance.
But I’m still not after sex, in general. I like sex, mind you. I love making a woman happy. I like a woman making me happy. But it’s not usually my first thought (or my second, third, fourth, etc..)
It’s still love that I’m after more than anything else. Love and the feeling that I am loved.
Okay, but if it’s not sex, those folks who don’t understand the envy probably can’t figure out what’s wrong. I have friends, right?
Well, it’s just been recent that I caught on to something. I can’t count on being awake, alert, and able to be pro-active, not reactive, on any given day. And I can’t count on being undepressed enough to be feeling things on any given day.
I lose time... and I lose people. And, I lose hope.
I’ll forget to respond to people when I need to, or I’ll forget to talk to them as often as I need. I’ll miscalculate because of my depression, and believe things are okay when they’re not.
What is it like to think of people, and to remember them? What is it to be able to think of a person, and smile, and want to talk to them? What is it like to be able to want to keep in touch with someone, and not have to be fighting to stay awake and remember, so that you don’t lose people?
What is it like, if you’re able to be confident, and happy with your friends? What is it like to know you can call someone, and just talk to them because you feel like talking? Hah... what’s it like to feel confident that you can call someone, and find stuff to talk about? That you won’t go blank? That you won’t make people think you’re not interested in them because you’re so tired, and so blank?
I don’t know what I’m shooting for. I don’t know what’s normal. I think that’s part of the problem. I don’t know how hard things are going to be when they’re normal.
That’s really the problem I’ve had with depression treatment all along. I don’t know when I can say “this is as good as drugs can get me.”
I don’t know if I’m ‘fixed’, or if I should be better. I don’t know if I’m trying to build a normal life and failing at it because I’m still sick, or if I’m trying to build a normal life and I can’t because I don’t know how to act. Can I fix it?
That’s the part that worries me. When do I stop working with meds, and when do I start working on myself, and what is supposed to fix what?
Anyway… that’s what I envy in other people. Sometimes, it’s “sex” but only insofar as how sex can be “not a big deal”, with no worries about performance. Sometimes, it’s friendship, but only insofar as I can’t understand how other people do it. Sometimes, it’s life in general, because I’m not sure how life is supposed to work, but it seems like they have it under better control than I could.
For all that I accept that I’m weird, and often weird in a good way, I really envy normalcy sometimes.
This gets a bit personal, and deep, and I want to test the LJ cut link anyway, so let me try it here...
I’ve told some of my women friends that I loved them... and they didn’t get the idea that it wasn’t romance. It was friendship, and mostly reassurance. A sense that I hadn’t lost something that I really needed.
I’ve mentioned being envious of certain people. One of them, I think, caught the same idea. Romance (and sex). Now, sex is funny in this situation. My testosterone levels were low when a urologist checked it. It wasn’t crucially low, but it was treatably low. So, now I’m on testosterone supplementation.
Next... well, sex was a bad scene for a while. A woman I’ll call JC was the first woman who ended up wanting sex with me.
It’s a funny thing. She played the “If you loved me, you would do this.” Later, I learned that she was sure it would make me happy. Obviously, she didn’t say that... but when she finally broke my will down, she was sure that it was so wonderful that nothing could be better. It hurt her that it didn’t work out well. It hurt me when I realized that.
But the worst thing was that I had given in to someone manipulating me, and it had been even worse than not giving in. She’d been manipulating me for a long time, and I’d hated it. I don’t get manipulated; I don’t beg. But I was begging her not to keep up the pressure, and I gave in.
Next came a woman I’ll cal WW. She wanted sex too... and when I couldn’t perform right away, she rejected me, even though we were creating magic.
So, there I was... sex was everything towards having a woman who loved you, and that was the one thing I couldn’t do. Love was nothing...even though I could love deeply, and needed to believe that loving meant something.
JC was more than ten years ago. WW was more than 6 (maybe 8?). I’ve never had intercourse successfully yet. Chris, at least, taught me how to pleasure a woman. I no longer had to feel like I to be doing the intercourse thing to be able to find love.
She’s also done much of the work to getting me able to relax so that I’m not panicked about performance.
But I’m still not after sex, in general. I like sex, mind you. I love making a woman happy. I like a woman making me happy. But it’s not usually my first thought (or my second, third, fourth, etc..)
It’s still love that I’m after more than anything else. Love and the feeling that I am loved.
Okay, but if it’s not sex, those folks who don’t understand the envy probably can’t figure out what’s wrong. I have friends, right?
Well, it’s just been recent that I caught on to something. I can’t count on being awake, alert, and able to be pro-active, not reactive, on any given day. And I can’t count on being undepressed enough to be feeling things on any given day.
I lose time... and I lose people. And, I lose hope.
I’ll forget to respond to people when I need to, or I’ll forget to talk to them as often as I need. I’ll miscalculate because of my depression, and believe things are okay when they’re not.
What is it like to think of people, and to remember them? What is it to be able to think of a person, and smile, and want to talk to them? What is it like to be able to want to keep in touch with someone, and not have to be fighting to stay awake and remember, so that you don’t lose people?
What is it like, if you’re able to be confident, and happy with your friends? What is it like to know you can call someone, and just talk to them because you feel like talking? Hah... what’s it like to feel confident that you can call someone, and find stuff to talk about? That you won’t go blank? That you won’t make people think you’re not interested in them because you’re so tired, and so blank?
I don’t know what I’m shooting for. I don’t know what’s normal. I think that’s part of the problem. I don’t know how hard things are going to be when they’re normal.
That’s really the problem I’ve had with depression treatment all along. I don’t know when I can say “this is as good as drugs can get me.”
I don’t know if I’m ‘fixed’, or if I should be better. I don’t know if I’m trying to build a normal life and failing at it because I’m still sick, or if I’m trying to build a normal life and I can’t because I don’t know how to act. Can I fix it?
That’s the part that worries me. When do I stop working with meds, and when do I start working on myself, and what is supposed to fix what?
Anyway… that’s what I envy in other people. Sometimes, it’s “sex” but only insofar as how sex can be “not a big deal”, with no worries about performance. Sometimes, it’s friendship, but only insofar as I can’t understand how other people do it. Sometimes, it’s life in general, because I’m not sure how life is supposed to work, but it seems like they have it under better control than I could.
For all that I accept that I’m weird, and often weird in a good way, I really envy normalcy sometimes.
