There is something so liberating about blogging. I can write my darkest dirtiest secrets and put it out into the wide world of the internet but yet, no one knows me or probably reads it.
Sex after divorce rocks by the way. It's not just good sex, it's sex you never knew was out there. I never had a good sexual encounter with my Flotchy, Sure we had sex, maybe once I came or thought about it. We were two dysfunctional 30 somethings trying to please each other. Add no communication and the outcome sucks.
After the divorce, I met a black God, BB I'll call him. He had me at hello muscles and charming smile. We met at a party through friends and I was not looking to hook up. A few beers later yep, on the back deck over looking a lake and his hands in my hair and around my waist and just all the fuck over me. I was done.
We didn't make love that night. We did start a friendship and sex followed until he moved away. We haven't seen each other since but, damn, he opened up a world of good sex and more importantly, treated me like a queen. I miss that guy, BB. I miss you. My heart will go on thanks to you...
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Long and Winding Road
I have lost myself even more over the past five years. Divorce is finalized. Alimony has come and gone. Many men have come and gone. Sex. A job or two. My dignity has gone. My two daughters and I live with my parents and I pray that there is an end in sight. It is not easy living with parents who treat you as the second best child. Don't get me wrong please, I am so grateful they have let me land here and rent free. I had no intention of staying this long, had no idea how hard it would
be to get back on my feet with two little girls who need me emotionally, physically and in every other way imaginable. Their dad has chosen to live in another state and while he sees them often, it is primarily up to me to raise them well and the pressure is there everyday, along with the guilt, the loneliness. So much so, the laughter and joy at times get hidden away by my worry and sadness that I cant seem to kick. And yes, I have tried every antidepressant there is and then some, I was born depressed and shy. My earliest memories are of being shy and feeling like a loser, unlovable.
Living in the same house as my parents is hard, It is hard to see them aging, It is hard being patient and kind when I don't want to be here, Repeating myself over and over, having eyes on me all of the time. I cannot stand having eyes on me and my lack of personal space is causing me to wither up and die.
I have spent the best part of the past four years in my bedroom. Sleeping, Eating, Masturbating. Sexting. Looking for the part of me I lost in my life. I lost myself a long time ago, I realize now. Even before my divorce, Before all of the casual and not so casual hook ups, I lost myself the day my dad's friend wanted to take topless photos of me. I mean he is an artist so that must be OK, right?
We were all on a vacation together and sharing a condo for the week, I stepped out of the shower to dress with only a towel around me. He asked if he could take a couple of photos of my breasts.
Who was I to say no, shy and timid I obliged. I was 13 years old.
A part of me feels like I had been violated even as a younger child and thus a slut was born.
be to get back on my feet with two little girls who need me emotionally, physically and in every other way imaginable. Their dad has chosen to live in another state and while he sees them often, it is primarily up to me to raise them well and the pressure is there everyday, along with the guilt, the loneliness. So much so, the laughter and joy at times get hidden away by my worry and sadness that I cant seem to kick. And yes, I have tried every antidepressant there is and then some, I was born depressed and shy. My earliest memories are of being shy and feeling like a loser, unlovable.
Living in the same house as my parents is hard, It is hard to see them aging, It is hard being patient and kind when I don't want to be here, Repeating myself over and over, having eyes on me all of the time. I cannot stand having eyes on me and my lack of personal space is causing me to wither up and die.
I have spent the best part of the past four years in my bedroom. Sleeping, Eating, Masturbating. Sexting. Looking for the part of me I lost in my life. I lost myself a long time ago, I realize now. Even before my divorce, Before all of the casual and not so casual hook ups, I lost myself the day my dad's friend wanted to take topless photos of me. I mean he is an artist so that must be OK, right?
We were all on a vacation together and sharing a condo for the week, I stepped out of the shower to dress with only a towel around me. He asked if he could take a couple of photos of my breasts.
Who was I to say no, shy and timid I obliged. I was 13 years old.
A part of me feels like I had been violated even as a younger child and thus a slut was born.
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