Purposefully Seeking OCD

I’m going to admit something.. you probably already know, but something I’ve kept hidden from myself. Its how I process, I know this.. I just… well.. its hard to see what you’re hiding from yourself, because… well.. you’re hiding it from yourself.

See how that works?

I’ve been trying to re-build my life for years, with the most progress happening this last year since the divorce. I may or may not have had a “breakdown” years ago. Its hard to say, and never was diagnosed. But looking back, I have to wonder.

All I know is that somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be a functional human being. I honestly blame my ex, but in reality I should blame myself. I stayed where I should have fled.

I’m discovering little things on my road back to humanity. I forgot what it was like to take joy in doing something for absolutely no reason other than I wanted to. I forgot what it was like to actually get a real paycheck for real services rendered. I forgot that pride.

People used to call me “Monica”.. remember Monica from friends.. she was OCD, reserved, a great cook. Everything had its place. It drove her crazy when something wasn’t where it belonged.

Thats how I used to be. Seriously. Everything had its place. Somehow during the battle with my ex (who believed that everything went wherever he decided to leave it, and that fairies would move it back to its spot), up until even today, that particular OCD has gone away. (not fully, but for the most part yes.)

I was actually having a conversation with my best friend where she began to talk about how she now has my OCD… well not exactly, she’s much more of a clean-freak than I ever was. I started looking around my apartment and realized that.. I no longer have any of the “functional” parts of my OCD.

Seriously, its like apathy has taken over OCD. Like I am (was) functioning defeated. Like I’d given up.

So I’ve decided that I’m going to get it back. I’m happier with things in their place. I’m happier with a cleaner/neater apartment.

And so, I’ve been slowly digging myself out of this hole I’ve built. I can almost see my dining room table again.

I’m making a new list of “rules” and will be practicing doing them until I get back to where I was… ok maybe not the insane OCD crap.. but functional. Where I can have someone over maybe without saying “Oh, umm.. just close your eyes.”

(Btw, I have managed to rid myself of my “I need this” hoarding OCD, which I am not seeking to take up again. Thanks but that’s one I can do just fine without.)

**** For you that are grossing yourselves out with your imaginations, please understand that my mess is clean mess. I don’t have left over food containers all over, or crumbs everywhere. Its just old things to get rid of, papers to file, clothes to give to goodwill.. and some canned goods to put away.

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Just A Good Long Cry

I’d been getting worried about myself the last week or month really. I began wondering if I was turning into some kind of sociopath or something as I couldn’t seem to access my emotions.  I wanted to cry sometimes but couldn’t. Things that should have had me rolling on the floor would merely make me smile or just not phase me at all.

I’d been thinking about the ex often. Not in a romantic way, but more so in an angry wishing him harm kind of way. I found myself containing volumes of anger and bitterness, and I didn’t like it one bit but also felt powerless to do anything about it.

To be honest what really scared me the most was that night with Hock. He’d be sweet and thoughtful.. giving actually.. and instead of triggering the same in me, I found myself getting angry. It was sweet stuff that threatened to melt my heart, and I resisted it. I didn’t want to feel anything, and I found myself angry at Hock for making me even try to feel anything.

All this last week, the slightest kind thing on TV or clip forwarded to me from Youtube, and I’d get choked up.

Then last night’s Glee. The dam burst and I cried like a baby through the entire show. At first, it was the small little touching moments of the show that got my tears flowing, but somewhere in the middle I just broke down and cried, a hard uncontrollable sob-fest.

I think its the first real big cry I’ve had since we’d started the whole divorce process (well once I knew it was really divorce), let alone the first big cry since the divorce.

All that anger, resentment, stress, fear, etc… finally bubbled back to the surface and let itself out.

After the show was over, I cried a little more then dried my tears. I felt better. I felt human.

It really was a good long cry, and something I truly needed.

Luke Again

Luke and I have started chatting again.

It all started when he complained on FB about there only being crazy women. Of course, if you only think there are crazy women thats all you’ll find, but I didn’t tell him that. I know him well enough to know that he really does like crazy chicks. Since we have history, I suppose that admission might reflect badly on me, but then I’ve never professed to be the poster child for sanity.

We talked about dating, life, goals, etc. We had a good conversation. It was good to talk again and just be friendly. I remembered him and I as friends and it made me smile.

Of course, while we talked I entertained the idea of getting back together. Each topic we agreed on, I wondered more about if things might work if we tried again. Each topic we disagreed on, I reminded myself why we aren’t together.

I also started to remember the fire in him. How passionate he is. It was one of the things that first drew to me him. When he loves something, he loves it completely, protectively, and a little possessively. He will fight for it. Its a very attractive quality especially after my ex who was very passive about everything.

But with his fire comes demands. He’s rather black and white. Good and bad. Very little grey at all. Very little compromise. He talks in absolutes, and has trouble forgiving or seeing/understanding another viewpoint.

I however live in grey quite often. While I admire peoples firm hold onto beliefs, I do find rigidness constraining. I’m more apt to fight for the freedom for everyone, than I am to fight for my personal beliefs. I understand that what’s right for me, isn’t always right for everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all wishy washy either. I do have my beliefs and things I will fight for as well…

But there are things that he wants. He’s open and honest with his expectations of his future wife/lover, and they aren’t things I really want and I’m not sure I could be them.

I’m also realizing that I’m still adverse to making any kind of compromise or giving anything up to please a partner. I might could eventually, but those compromises have to be gradual and not “dealbreakers” if I never live up to it. In essence, I merely want to be accepted for who I am right now. Encouraged to be the best me I can be. Loved for who I am, and who I become.

We talked two nights in a row, several hours each night. He’d message me throughout the day with simple hellos and innocent flirts. It felt good. Like I had a new good friend, a potential lover.. there was an innocent hope but not well-thought out.. an idea, a hope, and unclear dream of possiblity.

Then he said he’d be interested in more, and asked me what I thought..

The dream suddenly died, and reality came crashing in. All his expectations hit me at once, I thought about having to fulfill them. It was like being hit with a ton of bricks. I couldn’t breathe, and my eyes started to fill with tears.

I told him it was too soon to tell. But in all honesty, I don’t see things working out. It would be great if they did. He would want to get married relatively soon and start a family together. He’d be a fantastic father, and possibly a great lover (if we can come to some compromises, I do know that the sex would never be boring).

But all I can see right now is feeling pressured to do things his way, and feeling compromised, trapped, and resentful. The things of which spousal murders are made.

Something In The Water

I attended SXSWi last week. It was fun, and tiring, and scary. There is something funky in the water in Austin during SXSW, and it was obvious several people were drinking it.

First, I go pick up my badge. I did not go and stand in line the night before, and since I’m not really a morning person, I picked up my badge late morning on Friday. No lines, little waiting. That is how I do things.

Anyway, I walk in to get my badge and I hear:

“HEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY”

I stop. I look around. WTF?

“MAAAAAAARUUUUUSSSKAAAAAAA!”

Coming at me is a girl I’ve not seen in about a year, and the last time I saw her she was ignoring me as if I had cooties. She and I used to be friends before Meg (see post New Years Eve 2009 for more info) decided to hate me and turned all our mutual friends into her minions.

So to say I was shocked was an understatement. But here was Sofie nearly running at me, arms open, ready to give me a hug.

Boggle

Headspin

I just stood there. She hugged me. I mumbled something like “Hi” as she chatted about how great it was to see me, and how cool it was that I had a badge, and how she needed to get back to her volunteer booth.

She ran off and I headed to pick up my badge, shaking my head as if I just stepped into the Twilight Zone. Wtf?

So I go on, and figure this is a one time thing, or that maybe Sofie had warmed up to me. A couple weeks ago, I saw she’d become friends with this girl I know through other channels on Facebook, and maybe that friendship had changed her mind about me.. or maybe she wasn’t friends with Meg?

I didn’t know. I didn’t really care. It was just surreal.

So the next day, I’m out SXSW party hopping and run into another friend of mine. We chat, but I have to run to the toilet, when I come back she’s standing there talking with Meg.  My friend sees me and waves me over. Meg sees me, but doesn’t do her normal “running off” and doesn’t even give me that “rot in hell” look.

I walk up to them fully waiting for Meg to pull one of her “die bitch die” moves, but she doesn’t.  She actually says “Hi” to me and its not forced.

WTF is in the water?

My friend walks away leaving us together. I fully expect to be ignored, so I don’t say anything and start to look around for an excuse to leave.

Meg says, “So how have you been?”

I’m relatively sure I looked at her like she’d grown three heads. But I answered,

“I’ve been good, and yourself?”

She replied that she was fine or something then politely said she had to get back to some friends in the corner.

I really don’t know what happened. I don’t really care. Its just weird.

Insecurities And White Coats

First, I’d like to thank everyone for their helpful advice about Mac and for not outright calling me psychotic. 🙂

I’m not going to write off Mac yet, but I’m still leery.

Partly I’m leery because my alarm bells are going off, which I’m not usually that far off the mark… Ignoring alarm bells is what got me into the marriage from hell, so I’m cautious.

As I got to thinking about it yesterday, after viewing things from other’s perspectives and going back and reading our text history… My alarm bells were set off by two things.

1. His leaving in the middle of conversations and not bothering to text me back a response in any kind of timely fashion. (Change in pattern)

2. We had been playing a subtle cat/mouse game where anytime the conversation got near anything obviously sexual, one of us would steer the conversation away from it. Usually him. It had made me feel safe, and that he wanted to get to know me. Then last week he changed that game by conversing obviously sexual every time we talked. (Change in pattern)

I was told that I’m “over-thinking and overreacting” and I may be. I probably am.

I want to trust Mac. I do. I should just relax and enjoy  the ride, but I’m terrified I’m going to get obliterated.

Partly, I’m insecure because I really like him which ups the stakes.

Partly, I’m insecure because I have no idea wtf he’s doing with me. My own insecurities.

On a scale of hotness, Mac is about 8-9.  If he was a little taller (he’s maybe 5’10 optimistically) he’d be a 10. He’s physically fit, muscular without being body builder yucky, smart, driven, well-traveled, funny, and communicative for a man. He honestly could have any woman he wanted… or at least most women.

I on the other hand, am an acquired taste. Back in my “youth”, I used to be able to get guys to approach me from across the bar.. any guy I wanted. I was also quite a bit skinnier then.  For someone my size, I’m smoking hot.  But thats for someone my size, and with my clothes on.  Clothes off.. is a whole different story.

My friends say I’m too harsh on myself and that I’m gorgeous. They’re my friends they’re supposed to say that. But if anyone knew my actual weight, they’d suddenly “understand”.  I look about 50-75 pounds less than I actually weigh.

I think I’m honest about my “hotness” level.. and would place myself on the hotness scale as about a 6.  For some with skinny-girl-fetish, I’d be a 3-4. For people with a fat-girl-fetish, I’d be about a 8-9.

I just don’t see Mac as having a fat girl fetish.  So I don’t understand what in the world he’s doing with me.

This reminds me a lot of an ex-boyfriend. One of those that “got away” per se. His name was Charlie. (seriously thats his real name – If you know Charlie, please let me know where he is, I’d love to see him again)

Charlie was drop dead gorgeous. He was constantly hit on by every hot girl in town, and could get laid anywhere anytime by almost any girl.  Suave, charming, sexy… He actually bared a resemblance to the “Marlboro Man” with his chiseled features, dark hair, and heart-stopping blue eyes.

And he wanted me.

Back then, I was much “lighter” and pretty sexy, even though he was obviously way hotter than me. (Seriously, the girls were like “Wtf is he doing with her?”)  He and I got along famously personality wise and just being around Charlie was enough to make me smile.

It was actually during my “Waiting til Marriage” virginity phase, so he wasn’t with me to get laid… though we spent most nights together. He actually promised me that he’d never try to have sex with me. He was dead serious and kept his word. (He actually said that when I did have sex I would want it all the time.. he wasn’t far off.) I felt truly safe with him.

He was a functional alcoholic, though I didn’t know it until we’d been together for two months. He’d said something along the lines of being accused of always drinking.

I replied with, “What? I’ve never seen you drunk.”

He replied “Honey, you’ve never seen me sober”

To be honest, while I knew alcoholism is bad, I didn’t care. I loved him, and would have stood by him through anything.

A month or so later he took a job out of state and we broke up. Sadly, one of my best and most healthy relationships ever was with an alcoholic. He always made me feel beautiful and safe and wanted.

While we were together, he gave me one of his jackets. It smelled like him and so I never washed it for years until the smell of him finally left it. I still have it.

I never did understand why Charlie was with me, and if things work out with Mac, I’m fairly sure I’ll never understand why he’s with me either.

But I suppose I should just chill and let the ride take me.. Wherever it leads.

How Do You Fix Crazy?

Mac and I have been texting. Nothing huge. Nothing in depth. But enough that I am getting to know him better and haven’t found his flaw yet. (yes I am currently liking him enough that I am looking for his flaw to save myself from heartbreak, but thats for another post.)

We’ve also texted long enough that my “Crazy” is coming out.

I do my best not to show it, but when I really start to like a guy, I lose all sense of rational thought.

Dear Men… if I’ve ever pulled a “OMG she’s paranoid and jumping to conclusions” on you.. I’m about two steps from showing up at your door naked begging you to let me be your love slave. (Though that feeling usually lasts until you actually take me up on it.. then for some reason I come to my senses.)

I honestly thought I’d gotten over my marriage and divorce better than I seem to have.

Mentally (and emotionally) I’m in a significantly better place than I think I’ve ever been in my life, but I’m finding that I still need work.

There’s this one huge flaw my ex had that really did a number on me and how I interact with men I want to date. (Men friends never get to experience this, just those I want to date)

My ex was very withholding. I’m not talking just some things… but with pretty much everything. Emotionally. Socially. It didn’t matter.  If something was wrong, he’d be silent until I either needled it out of him, or guessed the problem myself.

Communicating with him was a lot of work on my part, and something I’ll never ever do again. If talking to you and you sharing with me.. isn’t easy and open.. I’m just going to walk. I just don’t have the patience in me anymore.

I hadn’t really noticed just how profoundly this had affected me until this weekend texting Mac.  There were a few instances where he’d get quiet and not reply. I began to panic and analyze.

I knew it was crazy, but I couldn’t stop my mental programming from going.

Why is he not replying? Did I say something offensive? Am I boring? Is he really just not that interested? Thats it.. he just doesn’t like me… or worse.. I’d jump to.. He hates me now probably.

I’d do my best to cover it up or word something in a way that it wasn’t screaming “Hi, I’m Maruska and I need a straight jacket.”

But he’s smart. He caught on.. and even called me on it. He didn’t seem too upset by it, and joked around.. but we all know that “insecure crazy girl” is a red light.

Sadly, I see this only being the tip of the iceberg. I can totally see myself devolving into “Where are you now?” texts and other stalker desperation.  Wanting to know where he is all the time, who he’s with..

Crazy.

I know its crazy. I hear the thoughts go through my head and I know its crazy.  So I try to ignore it.  I remind myself of who Mac is, and that so far things have been easy with him, and I’ve not completely scared him off yet.

I’m still dating around, and not taking things too seriously.. but I know crazy when I feel it.

Scared and Crazy.

I think I need a Mac-Timeout. Put my head back on straight.  Sadly.. he’s not the only man with the capability right now to push my crazy button, he’s just the one with the most immediate promise.

The thing is that I … well I think I’ve come to the conclusion that my ability to trust a man in a relationship is broken, and I’m afraid the only way to fix it will be with the patience of a good man.  I’m not entirely sure any good man on the planet is that patient.

So how do I fix it?

Hair On Men Is Sexy

Some days I think that I’m from a different world. I wonder how I got here, and exactly what happened.

I grew up with the only required maintenance being shaving your pits and legs. Maybe tweezing some facial hair if needed.

Nails were done at home, and hair was always done at home. Sometimes even haircuts.

Men never got manicures or worried about trimming or shaving anything but their face.

Over the years though.. things have changed.

Hair anywhere but your head.. is evil and must be removed at all costs. Salon mani-pedi is almost required. And getting your hair done at a salon is completely normal.

I may have been raised in the dark ages.

Some of these “improvements” on natural beauty, I totally get behind. Like male manicures. I actually was terrified of my ex’s jagged nails being used in certain places.

But other things.. I’m not so sure about.

Do I really want a man who shaves everything? I thought the point of a man was to be manly.  Chest hair and all. Sure sure a trim down there would be nice if he wants me to attempt anything downtown.. but its not a deal breaker.

Do men really want a woman who is completely bald down there? Isn’t some hair down there at least a sign that she is a woman not some pre-pubescent girl?

When did we start to hate our bodies so much?

I really love a man with chest hair. I really do. It makes me feel feminine, and remind me of his masculinity.  I’m not a big “carpet chest” kind of girl, but a decent amount of hair is just perfect to me. Hairy arms is good as well… again.. not carpet, but hair is good.

My own upkeep is negotiable. There’s upkeep I do for myself so that I feel comfortable or feel pretty or hygienic. Shaving my legs for wearing a dress or shorts is a must (mostly because of other people’s looks if you don’t), tweezing my brows is a must-do, and shaving my pits is completely non-negotiable. I could never be one of those armpit-hair-growing girls unless I really did not own a razor.  But scaping down there, I don’t have a “set” standard other than I will never go bald.  Sorry, not going to happen.

But today I learned that I’m an oddity. I learned to love men as they are naturally (well except I still don’t like an uncircumcised penis or backhair), and evidently there aren’t any natural men anymore.

Swooning Chickens

I’m seriously swooning. So much that I’m a little scared by it.

I’ve been in awe of this guy for a while. I had a little bit of a crush I guess, though I’d never really thought of him as a viable candidate.

Then I read something he wrote. Something so raw and passionate.. so light yet dark.. that I realized he speaks my language.

I am scared.

We talked for a bit. The more we talked, the more scared I got.  I liked him.

I have lots of irons in the fire. Don’t get me wrong. I still have little fires going for several men.. several relatively safe men. Good men. Men that I can see myself being happy with, having fun with.. having a life with..

But this one.. this fire is dangerous. I’ve seen it before. I’ve been here before. This is the kind of fire that consumes all of you.  All of you.

This fire has burned me bad every time I’ve succumbed to it. It’s so drawing that I don’t usually have a choice but to submit to it. To surrender.

The loveliest of times.. the strongest of passions.. the completest of loves.. Followed by the the most devastating of hurts.

Everything in me wants to run to him, and run away from him at the very same time. He reminds me of my greatest loves.

It’s that that scares me the most. (or maybe that the white coats are coming for me?)

***********

On a happy side note, his work (and I suppose himself as well if I’m really going to give credit where its due) is also inspiring me to write and create… and dream.. like I’ve not been able to in a long time.  I suppose every scary thing has its silver lining.

Just knowing that a man like that exists.. well.. its enough for me.. for now. (you can also read this as me being too chicken to actively pursue things. bauk, bauck begauk)

More To Love – BBW Dating

I like to play around online and experiment. And well, since the whole “club dancing” injury, I have a whole lot of time to sit around.

So I joined “More To Love” online dating site.

I kept getting emails from PlentyofFish which has ads on it like nobody’s business. And kept seeing advertisements for BBW sites, and Large Women sites..

Before I go much further, let me clarify. I loathe the term BBW. I hate hate hate it. But I figured, I’d give it a trial to see what was out there since some of my heavyset friends have found seemingly good people that actually get turned on by larger women.

It was an experiment to do, and I was bored.

So I signed up, only to find that I cannot message anyone other than a “smile” unless I pay for the site.  Yeah, thats not going to happen.

So I let the profile just sit there. It has little on it except my photo, height, body type, education, etc. I didn’t even bother to actually write anything.

But I have gotten about 20 “smiles” in two days, which is about twice what I normally get when I first join a site. I assume its because I only have one chin.

Well at first anyway.

Then I start clicking the emails to see who has contacted me.

Oh holy cow.. Out of the 20, only two of them would I even think about possibly kissing. The rest were way too old, way too loser (sorry but if your picture makes you look like you should be begging for change on the street, I’ma gunna say no), or way too hoodlum (yes with the lovely txt speak and everything).

It was the Wal-Mart of online dating. (I assume you’ve all seen “People of Walmart“)

I will say one thing though, I will not be quite so superficial in dating after this. I’ve seen the bottom of the barrel.

Oh and I’m really going on a diet now. Seriously.

Keep ’em Coming And Make ’em Strong

Saturday night I went out with Getty, my dog-sitting friend who saved me lots of money sitting my dog while I went to Cali this last summer, and who hooked me up with the best sex night I’ve had this year.

I hadn’t seen or talked to her in weeks, and wondered if I’d pissed her off, but alas no. She’s just been antisocial and in a negative mood she said. So..

1. Yay there’s still a possibility she might dog-sit in the future someday.

2. Damn that means I still have to deal with her if I want her to sit for my dog again.

Honestly, there are times hanging with her isn’t a bad thing.  And there are times when hanging with her is excruciating torture. Unfortunately, this was pretty close to torture, and definitely excruciating.

I initially wanted to go see a movie, but she didn’t want to see “Men Who Stare At Goats”.  She wanted to see some horror flick. I can’t recall the title, but

ME + HORROR = A. Nightmares for a week. B. Freaking out everywhere I go when something happens or resembles something that happened in said-movie C. Screaming like a little girl with my eyes covered and my fingers in my ears the entire movie. D. Walking out of the movie after slugging the person who talked me into watching the movie in the arm. E. Several of the Above. F. All of the Above

So I just refuse to watch anything horror. Trust me. Its safer for you and me.

Anyway, we couldn’t agree on a movie which wasn’t a problem. No biggie. So we decided to go out to eat, and she talked me into going to Cool River.  So I got all gussied up and met her there.

Now on the phone prior to going to eat, she’d talked non-stop and barely let me get any kind of word in unless it was discussing where to go and then she’d only let me get the name of the place in before she’d start in again. Annoying but I figured she’d calm down in person.

She did not.

Instead, she was all about telling me every thought that came into her head and every little judgement of whatever inane thing that came across her mind.  If I disagreed with her, and attempted to express my opinion I would barely get one or two words out and she’d continue talking.  She did not listen nor did she give me any feedback language indicating that she even understood my actual point (really how could she when I didn’t even finish one sentence?).  She did however notice that I was getting frustrated and politely said,

“I know you’re point, but … ” and continued on without me.

To which I swear my head spinned and flames shot out of my eyes.  In my head, I was thinking “OMG how the fucking hell could you possibly know my point when you don’t even listen to a freaking word I’m saying? Really?”

She switched subjects often as one subject reminded her of another subject.

So I tried to give up talking to her and just sat there eating my food.  She did not stop talking even then. She did not really pause. She just kept going like she was loaded with Duracell and covered in faux-bunny-fur.

“I just don’t understand how people feel its their responsibility to shove their food tastes on you! I don’t like fish, damn it. Tell me, how in the hell does it affect their lives if I don’t taste their freaking fish dish?”

Now you might think that this would require a response. I know I thought so too. And it actually did.  She paused and waited until I attempted one.  If I waited too long to respond, she’d repeat the whole rant and end with the question.  So I tried to reply:

“Well some people…”

She started up again, and went further on her rant.  So when the same question came around again, I decided to answer it differently.

“It shouldn’t really…”

And I was cut off again.  It went like this from subject to subject to subject.  Her expressing her opinions like verbal vomit, and myself pretending to be totally unaffected by it.  (I did once actually raise my voice to her and tell her to shut up and listen to me, I’m not normally that rude but she wasn’t giving me a choice, to which she turned all pouty, silent, and sullenly angry. The kind of listening that a 5 yr old does when they don’t get their way… aka not at all.)

She did go on a rant about some guy who walked away from her saying “You’re way negative. I just cannot be around such negativity.” And she went on and on about 10 minutes on how he must have something wrong with him.  It was all I could do not to laugh as she had been proving his point over and over all night.

By the end of the night, I had a massive headache. I put in my time, and I’m not really sure having a dog-sitter-friend is worth all of this.

I do know that it will be a long time until I subject myself to a one-on-one with her again.  There is not enough alcohol in the world.

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