I had a pretty bad week all told.
It started one day after one of my therpay sessions. I suddenly felt disconnected and confused. We had been talking about my inability to let go of the old expectations I have of my mother and about how frustrated I felt about that. My doctor said that the expectations I have of my mother would lessen when I had someone in my life that loved and cared for me. That this person would, in effect, take over some of my emotional needs. At least that was what I heard...
I started to feel that I was completely out of control of my happiness and well being. I took what was said to mean that until I found someone to love me who I truly trusted and loved back I would not be able to release the deep-seated issues I have with my parents.
One of the biggest issues I have to overcome is the fact that I believe deep down that it will be impossible to find someone who will love me with the respect and passion afforded to others. Since this is still my baseline feeling, hearing that my future happiness was directly connected to finding a 'true love', I knew in my soul that this was impossible. Add to that the fact that this also put my future happiness in the hands of some other mystery person and NOT in my own hands and I was pretty devastated. I'll never find happiness! I was unable to go into work for a few days and was profoundly sad. This should NOT be happening!
I also did not want to go in for my next session. I have learned throughout this process that the more I don't want to go in for a session, the more imortant it is that I do go and talk about it. As I began to describe what was going on I began to see how I had misinterpreted what was being said. Further discussion cleared things up but I was left with an uneasy feeling. How could I get so down so quickly, especially with work I'm ding and the medications I'm taking.
In short, I had a few bad days that took nearly a week to recover from. My own impatience at the pace things are taking naturally has pushed me to try to move too quickly I think. My doctor keeps reminding me that I need to set the pace for us. I mentioned that maybe I was pushing too hard, that maybe because I'm not ready to jump headlong back into the dating world that talking about finding love might be a bit premature. He said 'maybe' but that this kind of pain is beneficial and will only bring in real change if I allow myself to experience and understand it.
Maybe... but I think I need to understand myself even more before I'm ready to look at dating again. I think I need to believe that it is possible for me. There's a lot of evidence to the contrary in the forefront of my mind. I need to find a way to bring the evidence to support the idea that I'm (allegedly) loveable up from the murky depths. They are hard to see way down there...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Thought About Unthinkable
If the current culture 'wars' the religious conservatives are waging against everyone is as significant a cultural turning point as the one in the late 60's was, there's one thing I hadn't considered before...
The last time, the 'Good Guys' didn't win.
The last time, the 'Good Guys' didn't win.
Innocence Lost
I've been looking at my emotional state for quite a while now. It seems a logical part of the process of overcoming depression but I'm finding it much more tricky than I ever imagined. One thing I know with certainty is that I've been disconnected from my emotions for a long time. I find myself unable to 'feel' at times when I think I should and then will be overcome with emotion unexpectedly.
I went to the theatre today to see 'Hair'. A musical that I love and have seen other productions of as recently as last year. This show has always left me feeling happy and nostalgic for a time I never experienced first hand. It always struck me as being full of life (I've Got Life, Mother!) and Hope even though we know now that the cultural revolution of the late 60s ultimately fails.
Still it was a time when the country was ripe and hungry for change. The youth of America may have been naive in its hope for Love, Peace and Understanding (not to mention Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll) but what else is youth for if not to dream of a better world and believe you have the power to make it happen?
Today my experience was very different. Although I was at first taken to a familiar place, I ultimately went somewhere new and unexpected. By the end, tears were slowly but steadily streaming down my face as I was overcome with sadness. This was not a heaving, sobbing cry but instead the simple expression of tears flowing non-stop. I was moved this time at how much our current state as a nation is mirrored in this 43 year old musical about the hippie counter culture. An innocence we have certainly lost without having grown much (if any) wiser. I wept for all of us who still wish for a better life but have lost the drive to make it happen.
I also wept a bit for myself. I often mourn my loss of innocence (I held on to it as long as possible) and have wished I could find it again. I think there was a small piece that thought it would still be there when I came out of the depression but, of course, innocence once lost can never be regained. I think that hit home for me today.
I went to the theatre today to see 'Hair'. A musical that I love and have seen other productions of as recently as last year. This show has always left me feeling happy and nostalgic for a time I never experienced first hand. It always struck me as being full of life (I've Got Life, Mother!) and Hope even though we know now that the cultural revolution of the late 60s ultimately fails.
Still it was a time when the country was ripe and hungry for change. The youth of America may have been naive in its hope for Love, Peace and Understanding (not to mention Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll) but what else is youth for if not to dream of a better world and believe you have the power to make it happen?
Today my experience was very different. Although I was at first taken to a familiar place, I ultimately went somewhere new and unexpected. By the end, tears were slowly but steadily streaming down my face as I was overcome with sadness. This was not a heaving, sobbing cry but instead the simple expression of tears flowing non-stop. I was moved this time at how much our current state as a nation is mirrored in this 43 year old musical about the hippie counter culture. An innocence we have certainly lost without having grown much (if any) wiser. I wept for all of us who still wish for a better life but have lost the drive to make it happen.
I also wept a bit for myself. I often mourn my loss of innocence (I held on to it as long as possible) and have wished I could find it again. I think there was a small piece that thought it would still be there when I came out of the depression but, of course, innocence once lost can never be regained. I think that hit home for me today.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Mother/Son Cliche (Pt. 1)
Does the fact that something is a cliche automatically make it suspect? As I journey through life I find that most cliches exist because they embody a kernel of truth.
I do not think that my mother or anyone was the cause of my being gay, that is not the cliche to which I refer. I'm talking about the classic psychotherapy cliche 'Blame the Mother'. She is partially responsible for many of the events of my life that have been the leading causes of my depression. That 'blame' can be spread across many of the adult members of my family but, fair or not, I placed the greatest expectations on my mother and she has been unable to fulfill any of these basic needs. I know it is easy to target our parents as the cause of our life problems and in my case I have mountains of evidence to back up these claims. But that blame can only go so far. At some point in our lives we have to begin to take back the reigns and forge ahead. So why is this so very hard?
Unlike many, I was not subjected to physical abuse by any adult as a child. I grew up in a middle class family and, even when times were tough, we rarely wanted for anything truly important. Shelter, food, clothing, toys, all were provided and there are many happy memories of birthdays and Holidays but there was very little in the way of emotional or physical displays of affection. Unpleasantness was neither tolerated nor acknowledged. Nothing 'bad' ever happened. Those moments were quickly swept under the rug and never discussed. In fact, they quickly moved into the realm of 'Things That Never Happened'.
Neither of my parents should ever had had children to begin with. The maternal and paternal genes either simply don't exist in their DNA or they were crushed beneath their longing for a life without the responsibility of progeny. I believe, on some level, my sister and I were left among the 'Things That Never Happened' whenever possible. My father got off easy when they divorced, he didn't have us around all the time and was quick to cancel visits whenever possible. So the burden was placed on my mother who was often more interested in her dating life than her own children. She even had a date on my birthday one year and hurried us through dinner so she could get ready. I baked my own birthday cake that year. At least my sister and I learned to be independent!
I don't say these things to elicit sympathy. Being neglected isn't the worst thing that can happen to a child (maybe...) but rather to illustrate the following point. As an adult, after years of therapy, I understand that both of my parents are deficient in their capacity to be good, loving, nurturing parents. They could never be a Mommy or a Daddy because they lack the skills. They aren't interested in their children's lives because they are too wrapped up in themselves. I get that on an intellectual level. I'm struggling with why I can't seem to emotionally release them (especially my mother) from the expectation that they should be these people. That they should make every effort to maintain and grow their relationships with their children rather than let them drift (or even push) farther and farther away. And they should have been proud to be our parents. Out of all of the cousins of our generation, my sister and I are the only ones to have never gotten into any trouble of any kind. We were good students, excelled in extracurricular activities and were just all around good kids. You know, the black sheep...
As an adult, I tried on many occasions over the years to talk with my mother about things from my childhood, to get even a little sliver of my expectations met and have always failed. Of course, at first, I tried to get my mother to admit that she made some mistakes in raising us. That some things might have been handled better... that was a losing battle. She told me that I could ask her anything I wanted... but that she wouldn't remember anything. (!!!)
Eventually, I tried to at least get her to acknowledge that I was having trouble with things that happened in my childhood - not to admit that anything was her fault - but to understand that I was caused pain. She dismissed my feelings as ridiculous saying, "If that is the biggest problem in your life then you really are messed up." Just like Mother Theresa!
I had given up on any of this with my father years before and have rarely looked back. He has popped up from time to time but always disappeared just as quickly so I learned not to put my faith in him and to let go of any expectation. That has worked out pretty well, all things considered. So why can't I do the same with my mother?
Why do I insist she show some remorse, take some responsibility, acknowledge my pain when I KNOW she simply cannot. It is akin to being angry with someone who is color blind because they can't tell red from green. So my frustration is more with myself than with my mother because I can't let this go. This is going to be a tough one because it links directly to my issues of trust in other people. If my own parents don't care about me... why would anyone else?
I know this is a bit rambling all over the place and I do have specific examples of what I'm talking about but I guess I need to tackle those more directly. Right now I'm more focused on my inability than on those of my parents. These things run very deep...
I do not think that my mother or anyone was the cause of my being gay, that is not the cliche to which I refer. I'm talking about the classic psychotherapy cliche 'Blame the Mother'. She is partially responsible for many of the events of my life that have been the leading causes of my depression. That 'blame' can be spread across many of the adult members of my family but, fair or not, I placed the greatest expectations on my mother and she has been unable to fulfill any of these basic needs. I know it is easy to target our parents as the cause of our life problems and in my case I have mountains of evidence to back up these claims. But that blame can only go so far. At some point in our lives we have to begin to take back the reigns and forge ahead. So why is this so very hard?
Unlike many, I was not subjected to physical abuse by any adult as a child. I grew up in a middle class family and, even when times were tough, we rarely wanted for anything truly important. Shelter, food, clothing, toys, all were provided and there are many happy memories of birthdays and Holidays but there was very little in the way of emotional or physical displays of affection. Unpleasantness was neither tolerated nor acknowledged. Nothing 'bad' ever happened. Those moments were quickly swept under the rug and never discussed. In fact, they quickly moved into the realm of 'Things That Never Happened'.
Neither of my parents should ever had had children to begin with. The maternal and paternal genes either simply don't exist in their DNA or they were crushed beneath their longing for a life without the responsibility of progeny. I believe, on some level, my sister and I were left among the 'Things That Never Happened' whenever possible. My father got off easy when they divorced, he didn't have us around all the time and was quick to cancel visits whenever possible. So the burden was placed on my mother who was often more interested in her dating life than her own children. She even had a date on my birthday one year and hurried us through dinner so she could get ready. I baked my own birthday cake that year. At least my sister and I learned to be independent!
I don't say these things to elicit sympathy. Being neglected isn't the worst thing that can happen to a child (maybe...) but rather to illustrate the following point. As an adult, after years of therapy, I understand that both of my parents are deficient in their capacity to be good, loving, nurturing parents. They could never be a Mommy or a Daddy because they lack the skills. They aren't interested in their children's lives because they are too wrapped up in themselves. I get that on an intellectual level. I'm struggling with why I can't seem to emotionally release them (especially my mother) from the expectation that they should be these people. That they should make every effort to maintain and grow their relationships with their children rather than let them drift (or even push) farther and farther away. And they should have been proud to be our parents. Out of all of the cousins of our generation, my sister and I are the only ones to have never gotten into any trouble of any kind. We were good students, excelled in extracurricular activities and were just all around good kids. You know, the black sheep...
As an adult, I tried on many occasions over the years to talk with my mother about things from my childhood, to get even a little sliver of my expectations met and have always failed. Of course, at first, I tried to get my mother to admit that she made some mistakes in raising us. That some things might have been handled better... that was a losing battle. She told me that I could ask her anything I wanted... but that she wouldn't remember anything. (!!!)
Eventually, I tried to at least get her to acknowledge that I was having trouble with things that happened in my childhood - not to admit that anything was her fault - but to understand that I was caused pain. She dismissed my feelings as ridiculous saying, "If that is the biggest problem in your life then you really are messed up." Just like Mother Theresa!
I had given up on any of this with my father years before and have rarely looked back. He has popped up from time to time but always disappeared just as quickly so I learned not to put my faith in him and to let go of any expectation. That has worked out pretty well, all things considered. So why can't I do the same with my mother?
Why do I insist she show some remorse, take some responsibility, acknowledge my pain when I KNOW she simply cannot. It is akin to being angry with someone who is color blind because they can't tell red from green. So my frustration is more with myself than with my mother because I can't let this go. This is going to be a tough one because it links directly to my issues of trust in other people. If my own parents don't care about me... why would anyone else?
I know this is a bit rambling all over the place and I do have specific examples of what I'm talking about but I guess I need to tackle those more directly. Right now I'm more focused on my inability than on those of my parents. These things run very deep...
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Show Me State (of Mind)
I guess I should have been born in Missouri since I am definitely a 'Show Me' kind of guy.
My therapist has made some statements that I find rather amazing and presumptuous and I always make a point of telling him so. He usually responds by not responding with more than a nod of his head. Of course, this is one of the reasons I like him. He challenges me to see things in a different way.
One of those statements was that I would find that there are men out there who will find me desirable exactly as I am, flaws and all. I categorize that as one of those things people say that is ultimately not true. We all WANT it to be true but it isn't. This led to the discussion I wrote about in my last post and my realization that men HAVE found me desirable in the past. Of course, I was younger, cuter, blah, blah, blah. I doubt it was STILL true. Show Me, right! well, I'll show HIM!
I realize that was one of the driving factors that helped push me to the sex party last weekend. I would prove no one would be interested. To my delight and utter surprise, there WERE men attracted to me. Quite a few in fact. I had to admit that maybe my therapist might be on to something... I'm not convinced yet but I can at least see the possibility.
That is the running theme in our sessions. Getting me to see the possibility of things. My very well honed stubbornness is tough to crack through. When we started, another thing I could never imagine was that I could be in a relationship again. I had been hurt so deeply so many times that I could truly not even imagine having someone in my life that I could love, trust and rely on who would truly feel the same toward me. I don't make statements like that lightly. I truly couldn't even imagine it. The other night I had a dream where, after a bit of a struggle, I found a man who loved me. Truly loved ME and I loved him back. I called it 'The Boyfriend Dream'. I can't say I can't even imagine it anymore.
I guess I am saying 'Show Me' to myself more than to anyone else. That is when I really believe.
My therapist has made some statements that I find rather amazing and presumptuous and I always make a point of telling him so. He usually responds by not responding with more than a nod of his head. Of course, this is one of the reasons I like him. He challenges me to see things in a different way.
One of those statements was that I would find that there are men out there who will find me desirable exactly as I am, flaws and all. I categorize that as one of those things people say that is ultimately not true. We all WANT it to be true but it isn't. This led to the discussion I wrote about in my last post and my realization that men HAVE found me desirable in the past. Of course, I was younger, cuter, blah, blah, blah. I doubt it was STILL true. Show Me, right! well, I'll show HIM!
I realize that was one of the driving factors that helped push me to the sex party last weekend. I would prove no one would be interested. To my delight and utter surprise, there WERE men attracted to me. Quite a few in fact. I had to admit that maybe my therapist might be on to something... I'm not convinced yet but I can at least see the possibility.
That is the running theme in our sessions. Getting me to see the possibility of things. My very well honed stubbornness is tough to crack through. When we started, another thing I could never imagine was that I could be in a relationship again. I had been hurt so deeply so many times that I could truly not even imagine having someone in my life that I could love, trust and rely on who would truly feel the same toward me. I don't make statements like that lightly. I truly couldn't even imagine it. The other night I had a dream where, after a bit of a struggle, I found a man who loved me. Truly loved ME and I loved him back. I called it 'The Boyfriend Dream'. I can't say I can't even imagine it anymore.
I guess I am saying 'Show Me' to myself more than to anyone else. That is when I really believe.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Self Image (Pt. 3)
As I journey through, and out of, my depression, I find more and more that my perception of myself is flawed.
In a recent session, my therapist asked me how many people have found me desirable. My initial answer was "Other than people who I later found to have had an ulterior motive, using me to make someone else jealous, financial or personal gain, etc. - just one." I was as sure about that answer as if I had been asked my name.
He asked if I was referring to 'Mr. Brazil', the man I speak of in an earlier post. "Well, no." I said, "I guess there have been two then. I meant 'MRI Guy'. We met on a gay 4th of July cruise and dated for a few months but I wasn't really ready for a new relationship. 'Untalented but Beautiful Actor' had only moved out three months earlier and I was very leery of allowing anyone new in." I explained.
As we discussed this further I began to remember others... men who had clearly been attracted to me, that I had pushed out of my mind. Men who's desire for me physically I had dismissed out of hand for a myriad of reasons that all seemed rational and valid at the time. The one's that remained in the forefront of my consciousness were all of the ones that ended badly or reinforced my self image of being unattractive and unlovable. By the time we had finished the session I was able to identify seven of these men.
Since then more and more have sprung to mind. These are the one's I'm aware of. The number may be even larger if I am to accept the possibility that there were some I didn't acknowledge at all. 'Mr. Brazil' is a perfect example.
I was at a bar with my friend 'Iron Chef' one night. A place we would frequent once a week because it was between work and home for both of us. We also had become friends with a few of the bartenders and it was a perfect time and place for us all to get together. One evening we spotted a very sexy older man come into the bar and we both mentioned how handsome he was. Later in the evening one of our bartender friends came over and asked me if he could introduce one of his friends to me. I said 'sure' and then 'Iron chef' said, "It's that hot guy!" "Right", I said, "He wants to meet ME!" I turned around and was face to face with 'Mr. Brazil'. As I mentioned he was VERY handsome and VERY sexy so the attraction for me was immediate. I just couldn't imagine why he was interested in meeting me. As we spoke more the mutual attraction was undeniable (and, as I mentioned in the earlier post, he is a great kisser) and we exchanged contact info. As I read his card I noticed the address. "Is this your home address?" I asked. It was. I said, "You live right around the corner from me." "I know" he said, "I see you walk your dog all the time and have been trying to get your attention for two years but you never see me."
!!!!!!!!
How often have I missed these opportunities?
In a recent session, my therapist asked me how many people have found me desirable. My initial answer was "Other than people who I later found to have had an ulterior motive, using me to make someone else jealous, financial or personal gain, etc. - just one." I was as sure about that answer as if I had been asked my name.
He asked if I was referring to 'Mr. Brazil', the man I speak of in an earlier post. "Well, no." I said, "I guess there have been two then. I meant 'MRI Guy'. We met on a gay 4th of July cruise and dated for a few months but I wasn't really ready for a new relationship. 'Untalented but Beautiful Actor' had only moved out three months earlier and I was very leery of allowing anyone new in." I explained.
As we discussed this further I began to remember others... men who had clearly been attracted to me, that I had pushed out of my mind. Men who's desire for me physically I had dismissed out of hand for a myriad of reasons that all seemed rational and valid at the time. The one's that remained in the forefront of my consciousness were all of the ones that ended badly or reinforced my self image of being unattractive and unlovable. By the time we had finished the session I was able to identify seven of these men.
Since then more and more have sprung to mind. These are the one's I'm aware of. The number may be even larger if I am to accept the possibility that there were some I didn't acknowledge at all. 'Mr. Brazil' is a perfect example.
I was at a bar with my friend 'Iron Chef' one night. A place we would frequent once a week because it was between work and home for both of us. We also had become friends with a few of the bartenders and it was a perfect time and place for us all to get together. One evening we spotted a very sexy older man come into the bar and we both mentioned how handsome he was. Later in the evening one of our bartender friends came over and asked me if he could introduce one of his friends to me. I said 'sure' and then 'Iron chef' said, "It's that hot guy!" "Right", I said, "He wants to meet ME!" I turned around and was face to face with 'Mr. Brazil'. As I mentioned he was VERY handsome and VERY sexy so the attraction for me was immediate. I just couldn't imagine why he was interested in meeting me. As we spoke more the mutual attraction was undeniable (and, as I mentioned in the earlier post, he is a great kisser) and we exchanged contact info. As I read his card I noticed the address. "Is this your home address?" I asked. It was. I said, "You live right around the corner from me." "I know" he said, "I see you walk your dog all the time and have been trying to get your attention for two years but you never see me."
!!!!!!!!
How often have I missed these opportunities?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I Went Through With It... and Had Fun
I'm still processing the events of last night but I did go through with attending the sex party.
I battled with myself as I got ready (has it always taken so long?) and, in the end, got into a cab and was on my way. I got there more quickly than I expected, was nervous as hell (would I be accepted, would I find anyone attractive, would anyone fine ME attractive, would this be an emotional disaster?) and took a few minutes to calm myself while I undressed in the bathroom.
I checked my clothes and ventured into the 'playroom'. The experience was very much as I remembered. I guess not much changes with these things other than the location and the participants. I was surprised at how quickly my nerves left and how quickly I was approached. Turns out I was much more popular than I imagined possible. A very nice boost to my ego!
It was still a bit overwhelming so I really didn't engage in a lot of activity, preferring to keep things simple and let myself get used to the idea that I am still sexually desirable. A little sensual conversation, a lot of kissing, and some oral play was as far as I was willing to go and there was plenty of opportunity for just that. Watching others engage in more intense play was more than enough for a 'first time'.
I only stayed for about two hours but had a great time. This is a pretty regular party so I'll definitely go again and explore and engage more as I reacquaint and become more comfortable with my sexual side. We've been apart for a long time!
I battled with myself as I got ready (has it always taken so long?) and, in the end, got into a cab and was on my way. I got there more quickly than I expected, was nervous as hell (would I be accepted, would I find anyone attractive, would anyone fine ME attractive, would this be an emotional disaster?) and took a few minutes to calm myself while I undressed in the bathroom.
I checked my clothes and ventured into the 'playroom'. The experience was very much as I remembered. I guess not much changes with these things other than the location and the participants. I was surprised at how quickly my nerves left and how quickly I was approached. Turns out I was much more popular than I imagined possible. A very nice boost to my ego!
It was still a bit overwhelming so I really didn't engage in a lot of activity, preferring to keep things simple and let myself get used to the idea that I am still sexually desirable. A little sensual conversation, a lot of kissing, and some oral play was as far as I was willing to go and there was plenty of opportunity for just that. Watching others engage in more intense play was more than enough for a 'first time'.
I only stayed for about two hours but had a great time. This is a pretty regular party so I'll definitely go again and explore and engage more as I reacquaint and become more comfortable with my sexual side. We've been apart for a long time!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
A Brave New World... of SEX
I had quite a bit of downtime over the holidays and had some time to prowl the Internet looking at how it is being used in the pursuit of sex these days. I knew about the gay 'hook-up' and dating sites but I was very curious about what the 'new' things were. And I was horny! The world of cyber sex is fascinating...
Although I'm not feeling up to 'Real World' encounters, the cyber world is allowing me to try on new roles, desires, personalities, and even looks I doubt I could pull off in reality. Some of it has been just ridiculous, some fun, some surprisingly hot and passionate. I've also met some really kind, sweet people. Is any of it real? Probably not but I don't think it maters really. For me it is all about regaining my 'sea legs' in the dating and sex worlds. To my relief I'm finding it is like riding a bike... you never really forget.
I will admit, I have a couple of cyber crushes... two men with whom I have made a connection beyond hot cyber-sex. and some of it has been HOT, HOT, HOT! But these two men in particular have also reached out on a personal level to talk about themselves, their emotional sides, their playful sides and their desires for the future. One has made a very large impact on me and, if what has been presented by us both were 'real, is someone with whom I would pursue a relationship. Of course, I have to presume, at least on some levels, he is also trying on different guises to see how they fit. I think that is the downside to the cyber world that people forget. It isn't real. That doesn't mean it has no value or can't have an effect on one's life. Movies, theatre, novels and many other forms of entertainment aren't 'real' but can still move us in profound ways. The feeling, emotion and passion they inspire IS real and valuable.
They also allow me to feel good about myself because they have been sweet and kind and undemanding (except under certain very welcome circumstances!). Simply having those feelings awakened again is an important part of my return to the real world just in a safer environment.
Fortunately, the cyber world does connect with the real world and present one with interesting opportunities. I have one of those opportunities tonight and, so far, I am expecting to take full advantage of it. Am I ready to delve into the real world of sex? It has been eight months... I vacillate every five minutes. There's still a good seven hours 'till I have to actually decide. It will depend on how my battle of wills turns out... how well I think I 'clean up' tonight (Hmmmm), how horny I am (so far, very!), and how cold it is (VERY!).
Tune in tomorrow...
Although I'm not feeling up to 'Real World' encounters, the cyber world is allowing me to try on new roles, desires, personalities, and even looks I doubt I could pull off in reality. Some of it has been just ridiculous, some fun, some surprisingly hot and passionate. I've also met some really kind, sweet people. Is any of it real? Probably not but I don't think it maters really. For me it is all about regaining my 'sea legs' in the dating and sex worlds. To my relief I'm finding it is like riding a bike... you never really forget.
I will admit, I have a couple of cyber crushes... two men with whom I have made a connection beyond hot cyber-sex. and some of it has been HOT, HOT, HOT! But these two men in particular have also reached out on a personal level to talk about themselves, their emotional sides, their playful sides and their desires for the future. One has made a very large impact on me and, if what has been presented by us both were 'real, is someone with whom I would pursue a relationship. Of course, I have to presume, at least on some levels, he is also trying on different guises to see how they fit. I think that is the downside to the cyber world that people forget. It isn't real. That doesn't mean it has no value or can't have an effect on one's life. Movies, theatre, novels and many other forms of entertainment aren't 'real' but can still move us in profound ways. The feeling, emotion and passion they inspire IS real and valuable.
They also allow me to feel good about myself because they have been sweet and kind and undemanding (except under certain very welcome circumstances!). Simply having those feelings awakened again is an important part of my return to the real world just in a safer environment.
Fortunately, the cyber world does connect with the real world and present one with interesting opportunities. I have one of those opportunities tonight and, so far, I am expecting to take full advantage of it. Am I ready to delve into the real world of sex? It has been eight months... I vacillate every five minutes. There's still a good seven hours 'till I have to actually decide. It will depend on how my battle of wills turns out... how well I think I 'clean up' tonight (Hmmmm), how horny I am (so far, very!), and how cold it is (VERY!).
Tune in tomorrow...
Friday, January 8, 2010
Sexual Healing
One aspect of my life that has taken a dramatic turn is my sex life. I was a 'late bloomer' having my first sexual encounter at 19. Once that door was opened though, I did my best to make up for lost time. I was looking for and finding sex partners everywhere, bars, clubs, parks, movie theatres, restrooms... classic early 80's gay trysting places. Multiple men a night (sometimes at the same time) was the norm. I was experiencing as much as I could and as many flavors as I could find. Some did not appeal to me but most did. It was a LOT of fun!
At some point in my mid 30's though, the experience changed. I've always looked much younger than I was so it wasn't due to lack of opportunity. I was still enjoying the sex but immediately after, I felt empty. Often while still naked with the other man. The 'High' did not last beyond the orgasm.
In retrospect, I see this was when the depression first started to appear. The frequent, random, anonymous sex was not the cause of the depression, in fact it had probably been lurking under the surface for a very long time. Sex was like a drug. An escape from parts of my life. And as with any drug, it eventually lost its potency. The feelings of loneliness were amplified after these intense physical encounters were over because there was nothing else there. I believe I was desperate for an emotional connection through the physical because that was what was (is) truly missing from my life.
As the depression deepened and my self worth diminished, the momentary passion and excitement that sex provided disappeared. Where once I was having sex four or five times a week, I was now going months, sometimes years between encounters - and that was fine with me. I had gotten to a place where sex made me feel even worse so why would I do that to myself? I became quite adept at masturbation fantasies when 'the need' arose and phone-sex when the need to hear another voice in the throes of passion was needed. This was my primary method of sexual release for years. Occasionally actual partners would come and go but none that worked out more than once or twice.
There was one exception, 'Mr Brazil'. A man who lived out of the city most of the year but who would come into town in the fall and give me a call. He is a very handsome and sweet man but the sex is uninspired. Because I do genuinely like him I don't feel as empty as I usually do after sex but the encounters are so predictable that there is little excitement either. He is a great kisser and that makes up for a LOT but his sexual wants are quite small and he isn't interested in anything beyond that. I can describe exactly what will happen when we get together and, try as I might (and believe me, I HAVE tried) the pattern cannot be varied. He must shower IMMEDIATELY after he cums... even if I'm not finished. ("Not Polite!" - I can hear Miss Manners now...)
So, I eventually found myself resigned to masturbation and phone-sex as my primary sexual world. As Woody Allen said... "At least it's sex with someone I love". The only problem is that I wasn't in love with myself...
At some point in my mid 30's though, the experience changed. I've always looked much younger than I was so it wasn't due to lack of opportunity. I was still enjoying the sex but immediately after, I felt empty. Often while still naked with the other man. The 'High' did not last beyond the orgasm.
In retrospect, I see this was when the depression first started to appear. The frequent, random, anonymous sex was not the cause of the depression, in fact it had probably been lurking under the surface for a very long time. Sex was like a drug. An escape from parts of my life. And as with any drug, it eventually lost its potency. The feelings of loneliness were amplified after these intense physical encounters were over because there was nothing else there. I believe I was desperate for an emotional connection through the physical because that was what was (is) truly missing from my life.
As the depression deepened and my self worth diminished, the momentary passion and excitement that sex provided disappeared. Where once I was having sex four or five times a week, I was now going months, sometimes years between encounters - and that was fine with me. I had gotten to a place where sex made me feel even worse so why would I do that to myself? I became quite adept at masturbation fantasies when 'the need' arose and phone-sex when the need to hear another voice in the throes of passion was needed. This was my primary method of sexual release for years. Occasionally actual partners would come and go but none that worked out more than once or twice.
There was one exception, 'Mr Brazil'. A man who lived out of the city most of the year but who would come into town in the fall and give me a call. He is a very handsome and sweet man but the sex is uninspired. Because I do genuinely like him I don't feel as empty as I usually do after sex but the encounters are so predictable that there is little excitement either. He is a great kisser and that makes up for a LOT but his sexual wants are quite small and he isn't interested in anything beyond that. I can describe exactly what will happen when we get together and, try as I might (and believe me, I HAVE tried) the pattern cannot be varied. He must shower IMMEDIATELY after he cums... even if I'm not finished. ("Not Polite!" - I can hear Miss Manners now...)
So, I eventually found myself resigned to masturbation and phone-sex as my primary sexual world. As Woody Allen said... "At least it's sex with someone I love". The only problem is that I wasn't in love with myself...
As I mentioned in my very first post, my psychiatrist found some medical issues that were contributing to my depression. One problem that was discovered was that I had a very low level of testosterone. He has found that a very large percentage of his gay patients suffering from extreme depression have this same problem and it is often overlooked. My levels were about 20% of what they should be so replacement therapy was ordered.
This, along with the anti-depressants quickly began to lighten my mood so at least I could feel 'good enough' to begin the work necessary to deal with the depression. The side effect though is that my sex drive has grown exponentially. I constantly think about sex and how to get it. Unfortunately, I'm not feeling 'ready' to act on it. I have a lot of work to do on myself physically before I will feel even remotely desirable. I hadn't noticed how little I cared about my appearance in the last few years. Everything about me feels drab which is NOT helpful in the gay meat market. So I am scrubbing, buffing, polishing, and grooming myself silly so I can get out there and FUCK! Was it always this much work?
At least it is starting to feel like it is worth it!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Self Image (Pt.2)
Another self image issue I have is that I do not believe that other people truly like or care for me. Now even I know that is much too broad a statement to be true. I have great friends back where I grew up who do care and often tell me how much I am missed and loved. I have a wonderful sister who means the world to me. I also have countless numbers of examples of people who should have cared for me. Who should have loved and protected me who didn't. My parents were never affectionate with us and we were often left to fend for ourselves.
There was a time when I was in High School that I was convinced that the only reason I had any friends was that my mother had paid them. Outrageous, but it was how I felt. Now that only lasted a few minutes but in some ways that feeling has persisted way in the back of my subconscious. In some ways I don't believe that people are honest with how they feel about me if they claim to see me in a positive light. In my mind, the majority of people I have had in my life have been emotionally cruel, used and then discarded me, or, worst of all, not even acknowledged my existence. Those people have such power and take such focus that soometimes I don't see the people who do love me. I'm reminded of Julia Roberts' line in Pretty Woman when she and Richard Gere are talking about how she doesn't like compliments because she never believes them. Her explanation is that she's heard too many times how worthless she is and that "It is easier to believe the bad stuff". I have rarely identified with anything more.
I often feel invisible when out in the world. Being a gay man 'of a certain age', this is magnified because the gay community requires a certain level of confidence and bravado from its 'members'. As an attractive young man who did not suffer from lack of physical love, I could combat the invisibility with sexuality though I never felt an emotional connection . Looking for emotional acceptance in the land of quick and often anonymous sexual encounters is foolish but it was the only place I could find. At least there were men willing to love me physically and their pursuit of me validated my existence. Of course I got out of there as soon as it was over before they could get to know 'me' and become another in the long line of people who hurt me. Eventually the empty sex stopped filling the emotional void as it grew ever larger. Of course it took years (I was having a lot of fun!) but eventually I stopped the cruising and tried to find that missing piece. That emotional connection but I found myself back being used, lied to, and eventually devistated by a succession of men I trusted.
Another moment that has come to mind recently when when I was probably 18 or 19 years old. I was talking with one of my college friends (who remains one of my closest friends in the world) and I made the statement "I want to be one of those people who, when they walk in a room, everyone turns to look at." I don't think we discussed that statement. I certainly don't remember any discussion. I think it was just too dangerous and we were too immature to understand what I was actually saying. I understand now that 'those' kinds of people demand that kind of attention with their attitude as much as their physical presence. I think at the time I believed that if I were beautiful people would love me.
My therapist said that we need to focus on work that will allow me to see the possibility that someone could actually love me warts and all. That they wouldn't even see the things about myself that I find so revolting. At this point in my life I can't even imagine that to be true. I can't imagine trusting anyone who would say anything so insane! In my heart I hope I'm wrong.
There was a time when I was in High School that I was convinced that the only reason I had any friends was that my mother had paid them. Outrageous, but it was how I felt. Now that only lasted a few minutes but in some ways that feeling has persisted way in the back of my subconscious. In some ways I don't believe that people are honest with how they feel about me if they claim to see me in a positive light. In my mind, the majority of people I have had in my life have been emotionally cruel, used and then discarded me, or, worst of all, not even acknowledged my existence. Those people have such power and take such focus that soometimes I don't see the people who do love me. I'm reminded of Julia Roberts' line in Pretty Woman when she and Richard Gere are talking about how she doesn't like compliments because she never believes them. Her explanation is that she's heard too many times how worthless she is and that "It is easier to believe the bad stuff". I have rarely identified with anything more.
I often feel invisible when out in the world. Being a gay man 'of a certain age', this is magnified because the gay community requires a certain level of confidence and bravado from its 'members'. As an attractive young man who did not suffer from lack of physical love, I could combat the invisibility with sexuality though I never felt an emotional connection . Looking for emotional acceptance in the land of quick and often anonymous sexual encounters is foolish but it was the only place I could find. At least there were men willing to love me physically and their pursuit of me validated my existence. Of course I got out of there as soon as it was over before they could get to know 'me' and become another in the long line of people who hurt me. Eventually the empty sex stopped filling the emotional void as it grew ever larger. Of course it took years (I was having a lot of fun!) but eventually I stopped the cruising and tried to find that missing piece. That emotional connection but I found myself back being used, lied to, and eventually devistated by a succession of men I trusted.
Another moment that has come to mind recently when when I was probably 18 or 19 years old. I was talking with one of my college friends (who remains one of my closest friends in the world) and I made the statement "I want to be one of those people who, when they walk in a room, everyone turns to look at." I don't think we discussed that statement. I certainly don't remember any discussion. I think it was just too dangerous and we were too immature to understand what I was actually saying. I understand now that 'those' kinds of people demand that kind of attention with their attitude as much as their physical presence. I think at the time I believed that if I were beautiful people would love me.
My therapist said that we need to focus on work that will allow me to see the possibility that someone could actually love me warts and all. That they wouldn't even see the things about myself that I find so revolting. At this point in my life I can't even imagine that to be true. I can't imagine trusting anyone who would say anything so insane! In my heart I hope I'm wrong.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Self Image
I wonder how most other people actually 'see' themselves. I mean this both literally and figuratively. When I look in the mirror I truly do not see the same person that appears in photographs. This has become quite shocking for me as a considerable weight gain has accompanied this most recent bout with my depression and I am at the heaviest I've ever been.
Weight has always been a struggle for me but I have usually been able to keep it in check. At least so I've remained in the 'normal' sizes in clothing stores. What is shocking is though I have been aware that I was gaining weight what I saw (and still see) in the mirror isn't much different than what I've always seen. I recently had my picture taken at a social event and did not recognise myself when the prints were brought around. I could not reconcile the person in the photograph with what I see in the mirror every day. I was huge...
How can it be that even though I looked at myself in a mirror every day I never saw myself ballooning to the size I had obviously reached? I've heard that people suffering from anorexia look in the mirror and see a fat person even though they are emaciated. It never made any sense to me. How could they NOT see themselves? It is all right there - open your eyes! This is that same phenomenon in reverse. It begs the question... Do any of us see the 'real' version of ourselves when looking in a mirror?
I've also discovered that I don't have a good handle on how I'm presenting myself to the world. There was a time in my life when I repressed all anger. As a child, expressing anger was not allowed and I learned quickly to push that feeling down deep. After years of denying feelings of anger, they would erupt in an uncontrollable way. Never violently, that is not in my make up. But I would lose all control, become enraged, screaming, yelling and causing quite the scene. When I started my first round of therapy years ago, I discovered a way of allowing myself to express anger in an effort to keep the logjam from forming and the massive eruption from happening.
Recently I found myself in a frustrating place at work but I was able to express my frustration and solve the problem. Once it was over, it was over and I could go on my merry way as the (usually) calm person I am. I went into my boss's office to let her know everything was taken care of and she said, "You have got to calm down." I didn't understand what she meant. I was speaking in a clam tone of voice, no expletives, and from my point of view the issue was closed. "I am calm. I'm fine, really!" I replied. She gave me a look that said 'OK, but I don't think so...'
A couple of days later I had a therapy session and I had not been feeling well. We were still working on getting the medications balanced and I did not feel like anything was working out. I was having mood swings that were taking me down physically, mentally and emotionally. When I walked into my Doctor's office, he had an immediate reaction to me. He asked why I was so angry? Again, I did not understand what he was talking about. "You are radiating angry energy that is almost palpable." he told me. I tried to convince him he was wrong but he doesn't let me get away with ignoring things going on in the room even if I don't get it at the time. He always plants the seed for me to tend to later.
Over the next few days I pondered these two events. Here were two people who know me well, both telling me I was very angry to the point I was essentially changing the energy in a room and I could not see (or feel) it. It was hard to deny they might be on to something. How could I be back to the place of extreme rage? I've been expressing my anger when new issues came up. I was sticking up for myself when I was feeling attacked. I was not repressing my anger, damn it! I had to look deeper at the specific events themselves to find the piece I was missing. The piece I needed to see the whole picture more clearly.
I brought this up at my next therapy session. Without going into the excruciating minutiae, what I found is that yes, I do express anger at new situations, and I do not allow myself to be attacked without responding. What I was not seeing is that under certain circumstances, old buttons were being pushed. Old issues of abandonment, fear of loss, neglect and any of a number of very old, very deep wounds can be connected to new events. From what I'm learning, the subconscious mind does not have a sense of time so new events can be interpreted in such a way that old responses kick in.
When distilled to its essence I could see that this particular situation was very similar to many that I experienced as a child from my mother. My reactions in the moment were appropriate to the events at hand but the lingering anger was a response to the old wound being picked at and I was completely unaware it was happening. Apparently those around me could see the anger I could not. Just as what I see in the mirror is not what others see, my anger is often not visible to me.
Finding a way of seeing myself clearly is going to be a very tough job...
Weight has always been a struggle for me but I have usually been able to keep it in check. At least so I've remained in the 'normal' sizes in clothing stores. What is shocking is though I have been aware that I was gaining weight what I saw (and still see) in the mirror isn't much different than what I've always seen. I recently had my picture taken at a social event and did not recognise myself when the prints were brought around. I could not reconcile the person in the photograph with what I see in the mirror every day. I was huge...
How can it be that even though I looked at myself in a mirror every day I never saw myself ballooning to the size I had obviously reached? I've heard that people suffering from anorexia look in the mirror and see a fat person even though they are emaciated. It never made any sense to me. How could they NOT see themselves? It is all right there - open your eyes! This is that same phenomenon in reverse. It begs the question... Do any of us see the 'real' version of ourselves when looking in a mirror?
I've also discovered that I don't have a good handle on how I'm presenting myself to the world. There was a time in my life when I repressed all anger. As a child, expressing anger was not allowed and I learned quickly to push that feeling down deep. After years of denying feelings of anger, they would erupt in an uncontrollable way. Never violently, that is not in my make up. But I would lose all control, become enraged, screaming, yelling and causing quite the scene. When I started my first round of therapy years ago, I discovered a way of allowing myself to express anger in an effort to keep the logjam from forming and the massive eruption from happening.
Recently I found myself in a frustrating place at work but I was able to express my frustration and solve the problem. Once it was over, it was over and I could go on my merry way as the (usually) calm person I am. I went into my boss's office to let her know everything was taken care of and she said, "You have got to calm down." I didn't understand what she meant. I was speaking in a clam tone of voice, no expletives, and from my point of view the issue was closed. "I am calm. I'm fine, really!" I replied. She gave me a look that said 'OK, but I don't think so...'
A couple of days later I had a therapy session and I had not been feeling well. We were still working on getting the medications balanced and I did not feel like anything was working out. I was having mood swings that were taking me down physically, mentally and emotionally. When I walked into my Doctor's office, he had an immediate reaction to me. He asked why I was so angry? Again, I did not understand what he was talking about. "You are radiating angry energy that is almost palpable." he told me. I tried to convince him he was wrong but he doesn't let me get away with ignoring things going on in the room even if I don't get it at the time. He always plants the seed for me to tend to later.
Over the next few days I pondered these two events. Here were two people who know me well, both telling me I was very angry to the point I was essentially changing the energy in a room and I could not see (or feel) it. It was hard to deny they might be on to something. How could I be back to the place of extreme rage? I've been expressing my anger when new issues came up. I was sticking up for myself when I was feeling attacked. I was not repressing my anger, damn it! I had to look deeper at the specific events themselves to find the piece I was missing. The piece I needed to see the whole picture more clearly.
I brought this up at my next therapy session. Without going into the excruciating minutiae, what I found is that yes, I do express anger at new situations, and I do not allow myself to be attacked without responding. What I was not seeing is that under certain circumstances, old buttons were being pushed. Old issues of abandonment, fear of loss, neglect and any of a number of very old, very deep wounds can be connected to new events. From what I'm learning, the subconscious mind does not have a sense of time so new events can be interpreted in such a way that old responses kick in.
When distilled to its essence I could see that this particular situation was very similar to many that I experienced as a child from my mother. My reactions in the moment were appropriate to the events at hand but the lingering anger was a response to the old wound being picked at and I was completely unaware it was happening. Apparently those around me could see the anger I could not. Just as what I see in the mirror is not what others see, my anger is often not visible to me.
Finding a way of seeing myself clearly is going to be a very tough job...
Friday, January 1, 2010
A New Beginning
I've been contemplating starting this blog for a while now and believe this is the time. A new year, a new decade and the beginning of a new outlook. What could be a more opportune time than this?
I've been in the midst of depression for many years. Sometimes slight and sometimes, in fact most recently, devastating. It is amazing to me that after years of dealing with this and making some very important breakthroughs and life changes, that depression can have such a deep and widespread root system. So much so that it will sometimes sneak back with such stealth that it isn't even noticed until it has taken hold of one's life. Gripping tightly. Invading completely.
The mistake I've made in the past is in not understanding that this is something that I will deal with for the rest of my life. I believed that if I found answers to the immediate problem then I was 'cured'. I have learned that the truth is I must forever remain vigilant, aware, and conscious of what I am doing and how I am reacting to things. No more 'auto-pilot' for me. That is the opening depression looks for as an invitation to take over.
For me, the worst impact on my life is that I've changed from being very sociable to a near shut-in. I have stopped doing things I once loved and stopped spending time with people I love. Not completely of course, I'm much too clever for that. I have found a way over the years to slowly make the transition so that people didn't notice. Such a drastic change would have been alarming. Removing myself from life slowly could be (and has been) attributed to the demands of work, increasing responsibilities, and 'exhaustion'. With the increased demands placed on everyone these days, this is the perfect 'cover' and is easily believed.
It seems that 2009 was a difficult year for most everyone I know in so many ways. I found myself in the deepest depression I had ever experienced but with no obvious reason. Unlike so many, I have a secure job where I am very valued. I have no debt for the first time in my life, and yet I was overwhelmed with sadness. On a dream vacation where I was having an amazing time, I would find myself weeping uncontrollably during those moments when I was alone with my thoughts. That was the first sign of trouble. The sadness deepened to where I knew I had to get help.
I was unbelievably lucky to find an amazing psychiatrist almost right away. He is the first therapist who has suggested that, along with some serious emotional issues I may have to deal with, that there are often medical problems that can contribute. These are often overlooked and make recovery much more difficult. He recommended I get a full physical from my internist and he prescribed a number of tests as well. Although test after test came back with positive results (some even surprising the doctors) a few did come back with not so great results. The good news is that none of these are life threatening but are easily treatable. So the first steps were in treating these medical components as well as traditional therapy.
After only four months we've made some great progress and I can feel a difference physically. The extreme exhaustion, sadness, and irritability have lessened and I feel hopeful that we are on the right track.
I have said for years that I feel that "there is something fundamentally wrong with me". In the past every therapist has responded with something along the lines of 'No, of course not, you're fine.' This time my new therapist said "You're probably right. But we can figure out what it is and fix it." I have to admit that was a shock to hear, and a relief. We're on the way to finding out what 'it' is and he is confidant we'll get there. I (cautiously) agree. This blog will document the journey.
I look forward to sharing what occurs with you and hope to hear your thoughts. I see good things ahead in 2010 and wish us all a Very Happy New Year!
I've been in the midst of depression for many years. Sometimes slight and sometimes, in fact most recently, devastating. It is amazing to me that after years of dealing with this and making some very important breakthroughs and life changes, that depression can have such a deep and widespread root system. So much so that it will sometimes sneak back with such stealth that it isn't even noticed until it has taken hold of one's life. Gripping tightly. Invading completely.
The mistake I've made in the past is in not understanding that this is something that I will deal with for the rest of my life. I believed that if I found answers to the immediate problem then I was 'cured'. I have learned that the truth is I must forever remain vigilant, aware, and conscious of what I am doing and how I am reacting to things. No more 'auto-pilot' for me. That is the opening depression looks for as an invitation to take over.
For me, the worst impact on my life is that I've changed from being very sociable to a near shut-in. I have stopped doing things I once loved and stopped spending time with people I love. Not completely of course, I'm much too clever for that. I have found a way over the years to slowly make the transition so that people didn't notice. Such a drastic change would have been alarming. Removing myself from life slowly could be (and has been) attributed to the demands of work, increasing responsibilities, and 'exhaustion'. With the increased demands placed on everyone these days, this is the perfect 'cover' and is easily believed.
It seems that 2009 was a difficult year for most everyone I know in so many ways. I found myself in the deepest depression I had ever experienced but with no obvious reason. Unlike so many, I have a secure job where I am very valued. I have no debt for the first time in my life, and yet I was overwhelmed with sadness. On a dream vacation where I was having an amazing time, I would find myself weeping uncontrollably during those moments when I was alone with my thoughts. That was the first sign of trouble. The sadness deepened to where I knew I had to get help.
I was unbelievably lucky to find an amazing psychiatrist almost right away. He is the first therapist who has suggested that, along with some serious emotional issues I may have to deal with, that there are often medical problems that can contribute. These are often overlooked and make recovery much more difficult. He recommended I get a full physical from my internist and he prescribed a number of tests as well. Although test after test came back with positive results (some even surprising the doctors) a few did come back with not so great results. The good news is that none of these are life threatening but are easily treatable. So the first steps were in treating these medical components as well as traditional therapy.
After only four months we've made some great progress and I can feel a difference physically. The extreme exhaustion, sadness, and irritability have lessened and I feel hopeful that we are on the right track.
I have said for years that I feel that "there is something fundamentally wrong with me". In the past every therapist has responded with something along the lines of 'No, of course not, you're fine.' This time my new therapist said "You're probably right. But we can figure out what it is and fix it." I have to admit that was a shock to hear, and a relief. We're on the way to finding out what 'it' is and he is confidant we'll get there. I (cautiously) agree. This blog will document the journey.
I look forward to sharing what occurs with you and hope to hear your thoughts. I see good things ahead in 2010 and wish us all a Very Happy New Year!
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