So, it turns out that the “Domme” who messaged me is actually not. He’s a complete newbie who seems to be a bit confused about terms and roles and – you know, whatever. I had not really bargained for that. Don’t ask me why i’m still messaging with him. He’s pretty clearly looking for a play partner and the last thing i’m interested in is getting involved with someone who has no idea what he’s doing. (Does that sound mean? Even if it does, it’s true.)
But i’ve realized something that’s a bit worrisome. i feel like i’m withdrawing into my body and i don’t – i don’t want to be touched. This is a little bit weird because i’ve often craved touch. But the thought of it now kind of makes me recoil and pull up into myself.
MP doesn’t generally touch me, not casually, not with affection, not curled up together at night. When he does now, it feels strange and i don’t really want him to. This worries me. It makes me feel dry – like an autumn leaf. Makes me feel like i might dry up and blow away.
i was reading Living a Loving Life this morning and thinking how much i could relate to her experience with aging. i am not liking this whole “being in my 60’s” thing nearly as much as i’d like to. My experience of my body seems mostly unpleasant or disappointing. I think that i probably don’t look as bad as i think i do, but there is no one here to tell me that i don’t.
MP was never one for physical compliments and if i were to tell him i feel old and ugly now, i imagine he’d say something philosophical about none of us looking like we did when we were 20. Which is true. It just wouldn’t be the compliment i was fishing for! Not the reassurance i would want.
Ok, enough of this – too close to maudlin, without the alcohol to fuel it. It makes me sad that i feel this way, but better to recognize what i feel than not. i ran across this quote:
“We create the illusions we need to go on. And one day, when they no longer dazzle or comfort, we tear them down, brick by glittering brick, until we are left with nothing but the bright light of honesty. The light is liberating. Necessary. Terrifying. We stand naked and emptied before it. And when it is too much for our eyes to take, we build a new illusion to shield us from its relentless truth.”
– Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing
i don’t know why that feels so true today. The idea of living in illusion just seems connected with the idea that it’s not what happens to us that “makes” us feel a certain way, it’s what we say to ourselves about what’s happened. I know that for the most part this is true. The part that i can see more clearly now is how often the things we say to ourselves are built on shifting sand. And maybe that’s ok.
Um, hope you’re having a lovely weekend!!