My recent concussion and ensuing month(so far) off of work has given me a lot to think about. Most notably(and ironically), is how I think too much about everything, but also trying to come to terms with and reconcile my alcoholism, codependency issues, my sexuality and my feminism.
Hey y'all. I've been thinking. I've been thinking about some fucked up shit. I've been doing some motherfucking self discovery up in this bitch. I've been thinking about my place in the world, and the world as a place. I've been thinking about my relationship to myself, and my relationship to others. About my constant emotional labour. About my codependency. My obsession with being attractive. My social conditioning to be as perfect as I possibly can. My eating disorder. My tits, my body, my cunt, and what goes into it. I've been thinking, and, well, I ain't happy. There is some fucked up garbage I have been perpetuating, and letting myself fall prey to.
Do you know how much of my energy I put into taking care of everything that isn't me? Worrying that my partners are okay, is the cat fed, stove off, house clean, etc., etc. Do you know how few things I do for myself? Just because I like to, because it helps bolster my feelings of productivity, of self worth? Next to none. It's a chore to feed myself, to shower. I've always been a bit of a caregiver, I like showing care and affection, I love hosting, and feeding people, giving massages, I'm great at remembering things that people tell me are important to them. I like making people feel good, all of that's fine. The problem is that mixed up in all of that, is the fact that I'm living for someone else. I'm constantly looking for praise, for validation. For someone else to tell me that I'm doing enough. Ignoring my own limits, my own needs, to reach this unattainable, nonexistent ideal of enough. Constant emotional labour. I usually only put effort into taking care of myself if I can convince myself that it will benefit others, or at the very least that if I don't, it will affect their perception of me in a negative way, and we can't have that, now can we? That's fucked up.
You know what else is fucked up? I was talking to a friend recently about how it would be more upsetting to me that an ex lover would stop finding me attractive, than it would be to have them hate me. Can't stand me, sure, but you still want to fuck me, right? I have a desperate feeling in my gut at the thought of not being attractive. "You think I'm pretty right? I'm at least pretty enough for you to stick your dick in, right?" VALIDATE ME. Ugh. Motherfucking ugh, y'all. I have been thoroughly indoctrinated with the notion that my worth is inextricably entwined with my ability to sexually appeal to men. All men. Not even men I want to fuck. It is just my duty to be arousing to them. I'm not even straight. Not even a little, but I find myself dating and fucking men, and competing with women. It makes me fucking nauseous. I waste my energy like, sitting "properly" on the bus. Making sure my tits are up and my lips are pouty. Pandering to the male gaze. What the fuck. Fucking why. No more. I'm done. It is now my intention to be myself. My fierce, intense, frequently scares off men self. I will not calm down. If I'm "too much" for you, good to know, gtfo. If y'all can't handle me, you don't get to handle me. I am done being watered down. I am especially done watering myself down.
Henceforth, I will be intentionally making more of an effort to foster more intimate friendships and sexual relationships with women(hmu if you wanna start a queer femme sex coven), advocating for my needs, putting my pleasure and joy first, and continuing to dismantle my inner patriarchy. There's only one ruler up in this bitch. And that's this bitch. <3
No comments:
Post a Comment