Cw: eating disorder stuff

So I’m a little nervous about my ED coming back. I’ve been slowly but surely losing weight, and eating two meals a day, but they’re not great quality food.

And I’m not even in the healthy weight range yet, but fuck, it all feels so good. Not in the “yay I’m getting healthy go me” way, but in the sick, fucked up “must be skinny, must be good enough, maybe people will like me, let’s see how skinny I can get, let’s see how far I can go” way.

And I’m about to start another medical diet. And I still will be overweight. And so it won’t matter technically.

But it just feels like this wicked, self destructive headrush, and I’ve missed it so badly. I like it. I hate it because I know how nice it feels.

I probably won’t get too far. I always get better. I always quit before I get too sick.

But God. I have missed it.

I’ve talked to Simon about it. Just as a sign post that these thoughts are back. Because if in three months when he sees me, I cry over yoghurt like I used to, he’ll know when they started sinking back in.

I’m scared to talk to my psych about it. Because I don’t want to stop.

My dear, sweet, lovely friend expressed concern over my medical diet. Asked if it was a control thing.

My eating disorder was never a control thing. It was always a self punishment. I don’t even know what I’m punishing myself for.

Finally watched Black Panther

AHHHH. IT WAS WORTH THE HYPE. Was not disappointed in any way.

In general my main complaints with Marvel movies is… I could do with a little less action. Not NO action, just… less. So I can have more character screen time. Specifically Cap and Bucky.

But yeah.

SO happy that Black Panther was so good and there was only one white person in the movie, and sooooo many amazing women and unf. UNF.

Representation matters, y’all.

had to have a very real conversation with my human

about names for our babies.

We PROBABLY won’t procreate as that isn’t an interest of ours, and I have 9000 health issues…

BUT my favourite name is Sebastian. And this was pre-Sebastian Stan. Ever since Sebastian Fucking Smythe became my sweet little bb and I’ve played him, and written the fuck out of him… I LOVE the name Sebastian.

And I wanna name my kid that.

BUT I cannot name one of my characters Sebastian because if we have kids, I’ll wanna call him Sebastian.

Because I do TERRIBLE things to my characters. Really mean, cruel, fucked up things. Or they just have a lot of gay sex. With layers of angst. So much angst.

And like, can you imagine I’ve named one of my kids Sebastian and he saw the character I name Sebastian? He’d be traumatised more than he already is!

So I had to check with Simon if Sebastian was a possible name. Cause if he said FUCK NO, then I’d be able to name a character that.

But he didn’t. He likes it.

So I guess if we spawn, our kids name is Sebastian.

[PS. If we have a girl, her name is Evelyn, nicknamed to Eevee YEAHHHHHHH]

I love my human so much 😂

Hear me

It’s funny. No matter where I turn, everyone always says one of my greatest fears is that nobody will hear me.

It doesn’t matter where I go. It’s always on the hippy spectrum. A kinesiologist told me it’s the cause of many of my issues. My chakras. My star signs. My second most popular fanfiction.

Everything links back to a fear of not being heard. Hear me hear me hear me.

And if you’d asked, I’d never have thought of that as a fear of mine. I fear abandonment. I fear being told that I’m so bad I am not worthy of love. I fear being too much, I fear being not enough.

But being heard? That wasn’t a fear.

Yet when I think about it… The things I do… I’m always writing. I write because someone always ends up telling me that what I say has value.

One of my favourite lines is “it’s addictive the minute you let yourself think that the things you say just might matter to someone”.

And I realise… I write and speak and I express… And I just so desperately want to feel heard.

So I was thinking about this post a lot. And was all “naw this is like English class where the teacher says the curtains are blue to signify depression, but the writer just wanted blue curtains” ie. We’re reading too much into it, but I like to pretend it’s real because it makes my hear hurt…

But then I remembered all the tiny tiny details I add to my work… The littlest things most people will never notice because I somehow doubt I’ll reach major fame…

And if I, a bb writer who isn’t experienced in the scheme of it all, is doing that… Imagine what professionals are doing.

And then I was really happy because I realised that difference might be intentional and oh my heart. My heart.

My brother moved in.

I haven’t had a housemate in over 3 years. I’ve only ever had one housemate too. I’ve lived with partners, but that’s different. That’s getting to lounge around naked, and cuddles, and just so so different.

I don’t really know my brother. I know he’s a good person. That I’m proud of him for a lot of his awesome traits. But… he’s probably the sibling I know the least.

It’s always been weird to be the most broken of my siblings, given that I’m the oldest. I always felt like the oldest had to be the most put together. The strongest. But it’s always been my siblings looking after me. I am not good at that. I’ve never been good at looking after others.

I just feel… really odd.

So it seems that I might have a sex drive. It’s just really, really hard to access.

And again, feels a bit broken.

It seems that in order for me to experience lust and genuine arousal, my brain needs to be shut off. And that’s a hard place to be in. Because I don’t truly know what shuts the brain down. Because it’s also not about overstimulating.

But I’ve noticed heavy breathplay seems to get me there. A certain kind of pain gets me there. A certain kind of degradation gets me there.

I talked to M about this a few weeks ago, and he said “yeah, but you were aroused with me” and I had to sheepishly confess… actually… I wasn’t. I lied. I lied, because I knew it was what you wanted.

And then I realised… I kind of… lie a lot. I give the reactions that I *think* the other person wants. Not all the time. But often enough for me to realise that this is an issue that I’ve got to work on. But am not quite sure how to work on it.

And then I’ve realised… All the play I do… is about others. And that’s a hard, and fucked up thing to realise too. Because I bet most of those tops think they’re doing me a favour. And they’re trying to give me what *I* want. But… really, I’m just perpetually feeling guilt of others playing with me, and so I try to give them what *they* want, and is it this big endless loop where NEITHER party is getting what they want??? AND NOW I JUST FEEL LIKE THIS MONSTER WHO HAS FAILED EVERY TOP EVER BECAUSE THEY WERE TRYING TO GIVE ME WHAT I WANT AND I SOMETIMES HAVE FAKED IT TO TRY AND GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT.

And this realisation came when the other night, I was trying to have sex. And instead of enjoying the sex, I was thinking “point your toes to make your legs look nice, now run your hands up his back, yes, make a breathy sound here, and bite his neck now” and after I just burst into tears because… even though I’d enjoyed it, I couldn’t shut off the brain.

I’ve talked to my psychs about this in the past. They’ve encouraged mindfulness. Told me to become aware of everything. How the sheets feel. What can I smell. What can I hear. BUT THAT’S A PROBLEM. I get overstimulated super easily, and everything smells wrong, and the feelings are wrong, and the sounds are hard. [in other news, this week we discovered that if I wear earplugs in every day life, my feelings of sensitivity just… ease. I didn’t get irritable, I didn’t feel as anxious. Just simply cutting out the basic sounds such as the aircon, my computer running the whisper of feet crossing the carpet… with all of those gone… I felt like I could breathe easier somehow]. I digress: mindfulness is the OPPOSITE of what I need.

I need to get out of my head.

And the thing is, I know I can. This week, through heavy choking I experienced arousal, and peace in my mind for the first time in a while. Last year when I was in Melbourne, I did three amazing rope scenes over the course of a weekend, that had me 110% in the moment, and it was so beautiful, and…

I just feel like the more I explore my mind, my sexuality, my peace… the more broken and lost and confused I feel.