Tag: hurt

caput draconis lexis

There was this interesting person saying she was in love with me. She took me to bed and we shared very intimate things about each other. It felt really powerful and I fell so hard and wanted so much to build something with her. Then she faded out. First, it was not wanting to meet other than Platonically. Then, it was not wanting to meet at all. Then, it was just not wanting to communicate. As far as she told me, all of this was just her issues with feeling unsafe with anyone coming too close. Her depression and dysphoria meaning she couldn’t spend time with anyone at all for the moment. Nothing wrong with me.

But then she told me in passing she was so busy with her friends, and with her new boyfriend, and that this was why she had been so distant. So I suppose she actually fell out of love, or realized she wasn’t in love with me after all. Maybe she thought she told me this somehow, but more likely she felt it was too difficult to say it to me other than in this way. So that’s an ex-something. Not an ex-partner, I suppoe, as we were not formally together, despite the above. Yet I need somehow an ex label for her in order to get over her. Ex-love? Ex-flame? Ex-lover? Ex-something, at least. Whatever it was, however little may have been actually reciprocated any longer as time wore on, whatever was there.

So be it. Am I feeling hurt? Yes, of course I am. And that also intrigues me somewhat. I’m glad to know my body is capable of holding emotions I can’t stop. Being able to hurt means I am able to love. I regret nothing. I learned such valuable things about myself, about how I love, hurt, suffer, long, respond. I learned to access my emotions even better, so in some ways she really did succeed in her welcome intention to get me out of my head. I’m stronger and more whole for this.

I’m feeling cruel as well, though I’ll let that mostly pass, I’ll have her in mind as I read of Inanna and Dumuzi in the Underworld. For whatever reason, I was not what she wanted. I am no less worthy for that. Though the pattern of that painful joke remains, that marks three people coming out of an ace/aro period, doing a test drive of intimacy with me, then moving on to whatever they really want. Boys, in two cases, cis girls in one. Not to mention the people who first tried me as a poly/kink adventure in the past. I’ll accept more applicants, I embrace my role as the safe slut to play with. Though be aware, if you get that close to me I’ll probably fall for you too. Fine. Hearts are made to be broken and to heal.

I’m feeling a little bit of headache, and a sort of determined tiredness but also some form of energy. Listening to Tami T who is remarkably appropriate for these moments. I appreciate the meaning my life contains, quite deeply. I’ll spend time making myself better. And if any of those who spurned me see me as whom I will become, then I hope they will appreciate what it was they missed out on.

*

On another note, did an STD test. HIV negative so far, so nothing there stopping me from surgery with the Suporn clinic.

still

Still hurting from that misgendering today. “He works very fast.“ in response to me having produced results during our meeting by multitasking. I’m sitting right in front of you, with my lipstick and my earrings and my pink blouse and skirt. You’ve not met me other than under my new name. Yet I am “he“ to you? “It’s she, not he“ I said, and it was not acknowledged. Not sure at all if you even heard it. We’re supposed to collaborate. Every time I meet you or think of you, I will remember how you likely think I am a man in a dress. That will eat some energy in all of our collaborations. They will not go as well. Had you at least acknowledged my correction, it would have been better. I almost wrote to you now to say, because it stayed with me, but thought better of it.

Then there’s the dysphoria itself. What was it? Was my comments and speech somehow too masculine, too assertive for you? Was it my voice? Was it my facial features? Left numb. What can I do to fix this? Only hope and pray and proceed and cry and continue. I never ever give up. This is what we’re made of.