Turtling

Turtling is a term I use for when I close in on myself in a self-protective mode. I guess some people might call it nesting, but I avoid surrounding my areas with lots of clothing and blankets (I've done this in the past). Instead, I feel as if I've pulled into a shell and don't want to come back out.

I think it's different from agoraphobia (my BFF thinks differently, of course). Agoraphobia generally results from having panic attacks at different places until even leaving the house causes them, leaving you stuck. I don't feel as if I'm afraid to leave (although there is anxiety). I just feel safer inside my home.

When I do leave, I enjoy being out. When I've been out for a couple of hours, though, I start feeling like I need to be home. Luckily for me, it isn't the compulsion it was about 15 years ago. It's merely an urge.

The big problem seems to be making myself get out of my little womb.

I think part of it is the problem introverts can have when they've been excessively introverted, away from almost all stimuli. They become more introverted. When I read The Highly Sensitive Person, it changed my outlook and I learned that I'm not "too sensitive." But I do have to watch out for becoming so introverted I have difficulties having any stimuli at all. I don't even listen to music anymore.

Having reasons to go out, having people to see, having things I want or need to do: these would get me out and expand my stimulation threshold once more. Yes, it's been suggested I do some volunteer work that requires my physical presence. I forget to look for it. My current state of mind (or medicine) messes with my short-term memory. A lot. So I forget these ideas I have for helping myself get better. 

I forget to do stuff I really love to do, such as write and other creative things. Here I am, more time than money, and I fritter the time away not creating a thing, not walking in beauty, not going to a museum or the zoo. I waste it huddled in my self-created womb, my shell, my bomb shelter.

I need to remember to look outside and see that there is no bomb, the sky isn't falling, and the sun is shining invitingly. I need to reclaim my authentic self and surrender my turtle self, because I can protect myself in other ways and do not need a hard shell to hide inside. I must remind myself that I gave up barriers when the walls of my keep broke into ruins inside my mind and my heart a few years ago when I felt great pain.

Vulnerability is the new strength. Try it on, self. I think it looks very good on you.

Loving myself

My therapist doesn't know everything. Agreed, that shouldn't be shocking, but I thought she'd have some idea about why I have difficulties with orgasm, if they related back to an incident in college. Nope. Apparently that is more in the realm of sex therapists and mine is not.

Of course, now I have to wonder: should I see a sex therapist? Because I surely envy those women who seem to have orgasms effortlessly. Even the ones I give myself require epic effort most of the time. If only I could stop thinking. I feel only sympathy for the lovers I have had, given how frustrating I find it.

 There was a short period of time around 40 when they seemed to happen easier, but that was by myself and, I'm ashamed to admit, my most serious foray into self-love. Yes, at 40. Hell, I didn't get my first vibrator until my late 40s. Just a slow bloomer I guess.

And now my age is beginning to turn on me, leaving me wondering, will I still feel sexual during menopause? Afterward? My sexual feelings come and go; if there is no one to play with, then my libido takes a long walk, but it eventually comes back again, even if there is only me. I've passed my sexual peak, virtually unaccompanied. Will I want even battery-operated company when I've passed the 'pause?

I worry. I think that having no sexual feelings, at least for someone who has had a very active libido (moreso than some of my partners — they wear out so quickly), would be a significant loss. It would be like losing a part of myself. I am a less ecstatic person when I am not engaging in my own pleasure. (When all is well with me, I've usually been a happy, cheery, and occasionally somewhat manic person. Very easily blissed out.)

I don't really have anyone to talk to about this. One of my oldest friends doesn't talk about sex in quite that detail, at least with me. Another is still pre-M. Mom's gone. And I don't have any truly close friends to talk about this with. So I talk about it with all of you two or three people out in Digi-Land.

I hate uncertainty. I hate thinking I'll never have sex again. I hate thinking I'll never feel sexual again. I have a hot-air balloon full of feelings and fears and all I can do is hold tight to the balloon as it grows and grows.

I bought that KY Intense product to try. I don't know. I'll have to try it again. I was a bit nervous because the product notes say external use only, don't use it internally, but damn! Everything is so close together down there! I was afraid of getting it inside and getting the warming lube that I was experimenting with on the outside and what happens if you accidentally cross the lubes? I will say that the KY Intense feels a bit like mint on the outside.

In my search for more dependable (and greater) orgasms, I am a bit of an ad junkie. I've seen lately an ad for KY His & Hers or maybe it was KY Yours & Mine. Something like that. Apparently it feels great, one liquid for each person, and then when the two combine, KAPOW! I figure, I could use the Hers on me, of course, and the His on my Battery-Operated Boyfriend (aka B.O.B.) and see if it works. However, I have noticed a lack of ads for the KY Intense. Something tells me that perhaps it wasn't so intense and the new product is simply the new "flavor" of Orgasm Helper.

On the TV series CSI (the original, based in Las Vegas), there was a character named Lady Heather and she was a dominatrix who ran a BDSM club of sorts. Eventually, in order to be socially acceptable for inane reasons, she became a sex therapist instead. I wish she were real — I have a feeling she could help me out.

My moods ride a bicycle. Get out of their way.

Today I felt damned perky (sorry, Julie). The last couple of days I have felt myself coming up further from the Abyss, not really in the "happy" area yet, but not in the depressed area.

In fact, I felt beyond perky. As the morning went along, I felt the edge of mania* coming on. My mood and energy began to develop an edge. It felt to me there was a thin, electrical edge to my mood. My body developed a tremor and I felt ill. I felt nauseated and irritable.

My mood and physical feelings deteriorated quickly from there and I had to miss a commitment (but was able to email in what I needed to).

I wasn't expecting this. I'm on more and greater amounts of meds — twice as much for Pristiq (for anxiety), and half again as much for the Lamictal (mood disorder, cycling). And then my added Abilify (boost the other two). Plus, I have Lorazepam for sleeping and for taking off any anxiety that the Pristiq doesn't handle. This quick plunge made me feel — again — like I'm not on any meds at all. So I wonder what would be the effect of taking me off of everything and slowly bringing me back up? Cuz this isn't fun. And it's so reminiscent of the old days.

I was going to talk about my meds and my history of being on them, but I'm far too distracted and buzzy to write. At all. I'll write more later.

*Not the Bipolar I (Manic-Depressive) Mania. Something that is much, much less explosive. I might stay up extra hours, not days. I might spend a couple hundred dollars, not ten thousand.

Alphabet soup

OCD. PTSD. ADD/ADHD. MOUSE. Some days I think my own name ought to be something like THX 1138. (Geeks will get it.)

OCD: Basically, I feel obsessed about certain things, or compelled toward certain actions, or both. For me, it's tidiness and organization. So why is my apartment chaos incarnate? Just look at my mind and my heart: I'm a total mess, paralyzed with pain and anxiety and depression. The worse the untidiness and disorganization, the more it pains me and makes things worse. When I make even one small area clean and tidy, I feel the very muscles in my body relax noticeably. 

I also have an compulsion toward collecting things. That one I've been controlling, until now. I have so many catalogs and magazines I haven't even read yet. Oh, and I collect notebooks and blank journals. When I go through my storage, I will find a large box of them. Mom hated my collection of them, but I stood my ground and would let her make me get rid of the better ones. Collections make me feel stable and rooted and protected.

"I had a good day," she said with surprise in her voice.

The day was sunny, but the sunshine is not the reason I had a good day. I held few expectations for myself — just a small list of things that must be done —, but keeping my expectations reasonable was not why I had a good day. My period hit flood stage, which is definitely not why I had a good day.

The day was sunny; I accomplished all my tasks; my period almost I survived being away from home for over three hours with a heavy period; I bought a few snacks and ate all of them (two steps forward, one step back); my brain whirred — the  title for this post came to me, I imagined a potential title and signature graphic for another blog if I choose to illustrate and sell greeting cards and other of my works, and ... I should use my digital recorder in the car because I have forgotten for the moment; my body sucked in the heat and the Vitamin D; I posted comments on blogs, I read blogs, I emailed, FBed, and Tweeted with friends; many ideas for all the writing aspects of my life ran in rivulets through my brain, just behind my eyes (where they are running now, like visual music tracks in color and motion).

None of these things is the reason I had a good day. Not one single thing made me feel better — it was the gestalt of all of them combined that lifted my spirits and the corners of my lips. On my mood spreadsheet for today, I will actually go positive on my Depressed/Happy axis. (Yes, I do keep a spreadsheet of my moods and any typical things that might have an influence on them. Then I create charts to see if there are obvious relationships. Thank Gates for something useful!)

I feel potentially productive. What this means is that my mind is churning on all the projects that I have to do and all the projects that I want to do. I can see them and hear them and feel them. (This may be my own form of synesthesia.) 

Tangent — A previous therapist of mine was quite concerned that I was wasting too much of my energy on a fantasy life I imagined every day. Finally I told her all about it, in the same amount of detail that I used in imagining this life and she was astounded. "I understand now," she said. "This is why you need to leave, to go somewhere more stimulating. If you can run your normal life and a whole yet imaginary life, your mind isn't getting anything close to the amount of stimulation and outlet that it needs." Which was entirely true, and which has continued to be true off and on — few jobs can occupy my mind fully for any great length of time. I get bored and wander off to something else. At least I give two weeks' notice before wandering off.

What this tangent means is that my mind was more awake today, more alive, and thus able to begin creating and reaching out for what it needs.

I endeavor to avoid becoming too excited over singular positive changes — they are too easily overset. I will save my excitation for an actual upward trend. (But I will continue to feel optimistic!)