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...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
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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