Recently in Emotions Category

Hello all!

Man, I've been silent for months now.  In some ways, it's a shame that I've allowed this blog to remain untouched after spending November and December working so hard to get a regular schedule going.  But alas, I felt it was necessary.  Trying to keep it going through January -- when I was completely unmotivated due to memories bringing up personal emotional issues (I'm fine now, thanks for asking) would have been disastrous, I feel.  At that point, keeping the blog going started to feel like an obligation of drudgery rather than something of I enjoy.  So rather than totally kill my own love for my blog, I decided to take a break.

I hope to pick this blog back up again, so I appreciate anyone who is willing to keep it in their newsreaders or on their blogrolls.  I won't make any promises of when or how frequently I will return right now, as my attentions have also been focused elsewhere.  During my absence here, I started a new blogging project, which I'm really getting into.  Unfortunately, due to the nature of that project, I'm required to do it under anonymity.  That means that I am unable to let you all know where or how to find it.  Sorry.

I'm also trying to get back into writing more, which means my Writing.Com portfolio is slowly starting to see some action.  (My apologies to the prudes and those just not interested in male-to-male sex, but most of the stuff I'm working on right now is sexual/erotic fiction.)  I also just updated my writing-specific blog over there with an entry about one advantage visual media has over the written word.  I encourage you to check it out, though I warn you that it relies heavily on spoilers to the movie The Sitter.

I hope you all are well. Drop me a comment and let me know what's new with you.

Today's post is going to be somewhat personal, as it's what I have the energy and mental capacity for today.  I'm still recovering from my FINE[1] day yesterday.  I get them every now and then.[2]

One of the things I've found over the past year that it's actually helpful to acknowledge such days and even indulge in them.  Prior to entering therapy last January, I would fight hard against such days and demand that I "just get over it."  After all, it was "just a feeling," and I should be able to control them.[3]  I would seek to diminish my rough days if not outright repress them.

The problem with that approach is that they never really go away.  Things just build up, waiting to get out.  Eventually, when you can't hold it in any longer, it all boils over, explodes, and makes a huge mess.

Yesterday, I actually had a much better day by acknowledging that I was having a bad day and allowing myself to do so.  I was able to both indulge in a bit of self-pity and make light of it.  It made the whole experience not great, but far more bearable and manageable.

As a society, we tend to encourage people to put on a happy face, to act like nothing's wrong, and to think of people who "have it worse."  The problem with this is that while there may be people with worse problems out there than what we are facing, our problems are still very real and we need the freedom to deal with them.  And we can't do that if we can't even acknowledge them or feel like we have to downplay them.

Notes:
[1]  FINE is short for "Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional."  An old coworker taught me that.  He learned it when he was in counseling years ago.

[2]  Right now, they seem to be happening every other week or so.  I think it's the holiday season combined with the fact that a few "major events" happened in my life around this time of year, and my mind tends to gravitate towards the associated memories.

[3]  The need to be in control is a major issue for most codependents.  One of the big wake-up calls I faced when I finally acknowledged my codependency and got help for it was acknowledging just how much I needed to be in control of not only myself, but my circumstances and others in it and how I sought to exert that control.

The other day, I was listening to the radio while driving, and "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith came on.  I absolutely love that song and want to include it here.  So thanks to YouTube, enjoy a nice rendition with lyrics, no less:



I actually have an emotional history associated with this song.  The song was quite popular on the radio back in 1998, thanks to Armageddon.  At the time, I was also involved with a young man name Zech.  It was actually my first relationship, providing you don't count the friend I experimented with in high school.  The song meant a lot to me back then.  Every time I heard it, I thought of Zech.

The other day when I heard the same song, it made me think of another guy.  I'll call this guy D (until he tells me he's ready for me to talk about him by name.  D and I have been talking, hanging out, and otherwise enjoying each other's company.  We're not actually dating, though I hope that changes some day in the not-too-distant future.

What I find interesting is that while similar, the reaction the song evokes in me regarding D now and the reaction I had back when I was involved with Zech.  In both cases, the theme of the song -- the desire to be with that special someone as much as possible -- resonated deeply with me.  However, the emotional undercurrents are worlds apart.

As I mentioned, Zech was my first boyfriend (though come to think of it, we never officially dated).  We were both young and immature, and I was only recently out (I had only finally accepted my sexuality two years earlier).  This meant that I was going through a lot of emotional turmoil, and tended to cling to Zech in a sense of desperation.  And that desperation came through back then as I'd listen to the song.  I didn't want to miss a thing, because I was terrified that things would end.  Part of me wanted to squeeze as much out of the relationship before the horrible ending came, and part of me foolishly believed that simply by being ever-present, ever-vigilant, and ever-suffocating, I could actually prevent the horrible ending from coming.

I've grown up a great deal in the intervening twelve years, and I now listen to that song again with a new guy in mind.  And once again, I find myself nodding along with the song.  But rather than a nagging sense of desperation, my heart is filled with a sense of peace and contentment.

The funny thing is, there area  few parallels.  There's no guarantee that things will work out between D and I.  (Is there ever really any such guarantee?)  I don't know how long I have with him or even if we'll ever become a couple like I'm hoping for.  I think it's likely though.

But in the end, it doesn't matter.  I have this time now, and I want to make the most of it.  Not out of fear or desperation, but out of hope and joy.

People often talk about how music can evoke powerful emotions and we can associate specific memories and feelings with a song.  However, I sometimes think that people forget that new connections and associations can be made with old songs that replace or overpower the old ones.  I know from personal experience that this is true, because I enjoy "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" far more today than I did back in 1998.

In fact, I think I'm going to go listen to it again.

I wrote the following entry and posted it to Bloopdiary (when I was still there) on 19 August 2005, when I was still processing through my breakup with Mike, who I had been with for four years.  I recently mentioned this entry to someone else and realized I no longer had a copy online.  So now it's online again.  Enjoy!

As I'm getting settled into my new apartment and finding ways to establish myself in Rochester, I find myself realizing just how little I think of Mike. In some ways, I find myself in that strange state where it just doesn't matter anymore. I've cried my tears, and while I feel the slight ache of being alone once again (and not getting any younger), I have a strange peace about having lost him.

It was a rough journey getting here. I found myself emotionally distraught about the whole thing. I cried so many tears. To be honest, I never realized I could cry so much over the end of a relationship when I was the person to end it. But there you have it. And I think I learned a lot about it. I came to understand one of Freyja's myths a bit better.

When Freyja lost Od, she cried tears of gold. Indeed, according to Snorri, this is why "Freyja's tears" became a kenning for gold. I always found the fact that her tears were gold a mild curiosity. Now I see it as an incredibly profound mystery. And I have a much greater appreciation for the value of grief. Indeed, I'd go so far as to say that true grief is a sacred act in its own right. Hence the tears of gold.

I wanted to quit being sad over the breakup. I kept wanting to "move on already." I didn't want to shed any more tears. I was "wasting time." But no, the tears, the sadness, the grief kept coming. And my sweet Lady kept telling me, "No, you need this. Cry your tears. They're my golden tears." So I did the only thing I could do, I cried, and I explored my grief.

Then I realized why I cried so much. I was experience true grief, the kind that only comes when one loves so freely and without reservation, only to lose that love. In effect, I wept bitterly because I loved fully. And there is a certain beauty in that.

You see, I think that's the mistake we too often make. We're too afraid of that kind of grief, so we avoid being so vulnerable. We only love grudgingly, often holding back and never truly letting go. We do that because we think that sense of grief is bad and to be avoided.

After the past couple months, I've come to a different way of thinking. As painful as such sorrow and grief may be, it is in its own way a celebration. My tears were bitter, but they were born of my precious love. I came to understand that as I cherished my love, I could cherish my grief which came as a result of it. In that view, they became bittersweet, and I could see how they really were tears of gold.

I'm not sure many people would understand that. But that's okay. I guess it's one of those things you have to experience and come to understand yourself. Me explaining it just won't do. But for those who do understand, I can just imagine their reaction to reading this.

I love you and I miss you. But I'm also hurt.

I understand you're in a difficult position. I understand that it's frightening for you. And I understand why you've made the choices you did. My heart breaks for you that you were ever in a position that you had to face such choices.

But you were in that position, and you made those choices. What's more, you made many choices that helped to leave us in the situation we now find ourselves in. And I feel like you chose to ignore that fact, and instead place responsibility entirely on those around you -- including me -- instead of accepting your fair share of that responsibility.

Please understand, I'm not saying it's all your fault, either. We both made choices, and not all of mine were the wisest or best choices I could have made. And others have contributed as well. There's plenty of "blame" to go around. But it hurts that you seem to want me to shoulder your responsibility -- or at least part of it -- in addition to my own.

In some ways, I wonder if I made a mistake in trying to make things easier for you. I sometimes steered clear of bringing up the consequences of your choices or the painful decisions that you might have had. I find myself wondering if in doing so, I merely encouraged you to continue denying your own responsibility. If so, then I suspect I did both of us a great disservice.

So I'm hurt right now. But I still love you, and I still miss you. I think that makes the pain all the more acute.

I miss you.

I miss our talks. I miss your requests, even though they were often more like demands than actual requests. I miss the way you'd get excited about something and become completely consumed with a thought or idea that struck your fancy.

I miss how you could be tender and loving so much of the time. I miss how you yearned for both physical and emotional intimacy, and I cringe at the thought that we may never share that intimacy again.

Some people want to think it was just about sex. I know the reasons they think that, but they're wrong. It was never about the sex. Yes, the sex was nice and I'll miss that too, but sex alone does not make a relationship.

Besides, let me be honest. If I was just interested in sex, there are far easier avenues I could pursue to get it. I could get a room at the spa if I just wanted sex. I could hang out at the Home Depot if I just wanted sex. I could have answered ads on craigslist if I just wanted sex.

Accepting the complications, limitations, and risks of our relationship would have been way too much foolish effort if I had merely been in it for the sex. I'm amazed at anyone who can't see the truth of that statement.

It's the memories of moments spent lying next together and talking that are most powerful. It's the memories of hopping into the shower and lovingly washing each other's bodies that make me ache for more such tenderness. It's the memories of your smile as you tell me about every little detail of your life that fill me with wistfulness. The thought that I may never have any more of these experiences with you is what tears at my heart so much.

I hope I'm wrong. I hope that some day we might beat the odds so that we can be together gain. I hoe that some day we might again share such moments of tender joy together.

But for now, I miss you.

In an entry on Mutiply, I talked about my perspective changed in regards to getting involved with a guy who has kids. It seems proper to note that while I've only become fully aware of this change, the actual change process has been a long time in the works. In fact, I can trace its beginnings back as early as 2001.

Back in 2001, I met Mike, who I ended up dating for four years. Mike didn't have any children of his own, but was fiercely devoted two his sister's two sons, especially David, who was in his mid teens at the time. In fact, he was so devoted to them, you would've thought they were his own kids.

Again, this level of devotion was very attractive for me, for all of the same reasons I mentioned in the previous post. And there was the fact that Mike was devoted and close to his family in general, including his mother. (To be honest, he struck me as something of a "momma's boy" at times.) That in itself was also an attractive quality. I myself have always been close to my family, so it was nice to see that reflected in the person I was with. Of course, I also think that it was a bit of a comfort to me, as my family was becoming more distant at the time, too. So it was nice to be reminded that such closeness could still last, even if not in my family. (Fortunately, things are on the mend in my own family now.)

Of course, in the end, Mike's closeness with his family contributed significantly to the end of our relationship. This is mainly because in the four years we dated, Mike never reached the point where he was comfortable coming out to his family. This meant that he spent that entire time leading a double life, keeping our relationship safely separated from his relationship with his parents, sister, and nephews. This also meant that when his time was limited, that time was usually spent with his family rather than me. After a while, that simply became unacceptable to me. Along with other issues, I finally confronted him and ended our relationship when he admitted he was unwilling to do anything to resolve these issues.

In retrospect, I don't hold Mike's devotion to his family against him, even if it did contribute to the end of our relationship. To this day, I consider that a positive quality and something I'd still find attractive. However, I do take issue with his unwillingness to integrate his devotion to me and his devotion to his family, because his failure to do so was the real problem. To this day, that fact is something of a sore spot in my life, though I've mostly made my peace.

Through the grapevine, I've come to understand that Mike's gone back to dating girls, and has been with the same girl for at least a year now. I guess things are going quite well, at least from what I can gain from indirect sources. When I first found out about this, I was deeply hurt. In fact, I won't say I don't still feel a twinge of pain over it now. However, I've come to be more accepting of his choices, and I hpoe he can truly find happiness with this woman. After all, I don't think he'd ever find happiness with me or any other guy. Because it's become clear to me that he could never make that choice that would ultimately be necessary. So I hope he can find happiness in the choices he has made.

I know I have. And to be honest, I'm starting to realize that my new choices since breaking up with him have offered me more chances for happiness than I ever would've had with him. (I just hope that doesn't sound too cruel.)

Thanksgiving Day, I had a bit of a personal experience. After I had gotten to my parents' home and was seated in the dining room chatting with them, I began to look around the room. On the one stand next to the interior wall, I spotted an old picture of me. If my mother is right (I mentioned it to her later), it was the casual picture I had taken when I had my senior pictures taken in high school.

When I first saw the picture, I did a double take. "That was me?! Damn, I was cute back then!" In fact, I was so taken by the picture that I almost had trouble believing it really was me. I looked rather different back then. It was before my hairline had really started to recede and before I put on an extra 70+ pounds. This realization was somewhat depressing, and for a moment, I even mourned the fact that I was no longer that young man in the picture.

What's more, I mourned that I never realized how good looking I really was back then. I never considered myself ugly (and never have), but I did consider myself pretty plain. Part of that was because the school nurse kept harping on the fact that I was "slightly overweight" every year. Add that to the fact that none of the girls in school really seemed all that interested in me (nor the boys, but I wouldn't have been ready to pursue that possibility anyway), and it just never occurred to me how great I looked. Of course, that made the realization rather sweet now, even if I did wish I would've taken better advantage of my looks back then.

But then Miss Thing (Have I mentioned that I love having a patron goddess who let's me get away with calling her names like "Miss Thing"?) began pointing out to me that I'm still very good looking. Despite the decrease in hair and the increase in weight. And besides, I'm slowly, very slowly, doing something about that latter part. It is entirely likely that in three or four years, I could be that "slightly overweight" (in which case I will party) guy in the picture again, just at twice the age. But it's going to take time, patience, and a lot of self love. After all, if I try to rush things, I'll only get frustrated and sabotage my own efforts. And besides, I need to accept I already look great so that it becomes a matter of improving on an already great thing rather than some struggle against myself.

So I will continue to do my exercising (which I admit I've been bad about for the past couple weeks). I'll get back to eating healthier. And I'll continue to do so because I enjoy it (I'm already pining for longer days and warmer weather again so I can return to my walking). But at least now, I do it with a glimmer of hope that despite not being my primary goal, there's proof that I could really enjoy the fringe benefits in the long run, too.

Last night, I had avery strange dreams. It bothered me in some ways, so I thought I'd write about it here.

The dream was about Mike. Somehow, he had found me and took me to dinner someplace so we could talk. He wanted the two of us to get back together. In fact, he was quite emphatic and persistent about it. And in the dream, a part of me really wanted to say yes. But another part of me was quite unenthusiastic about the idea. In fact, that part of me was downright cold to the idea.

And there were good reasons for that emotional reaction, don't get me wrong. While Mike was being quite clear that he wanted us to get back together, he steered clear of discussing any of the reasons I broke up with him in the first place. And I was having problem with that, because it was pretty clear to me that none of the obstacles (most of them imposed by Mike himself) that caused me to walk away had been resolved, nor were they going to be. So the dispassionate part of me kept running through the list:

"That's nice, but your family commitments and the fact that you don't want to tell them you like guys is still going to keep us apart most of the time."

"That's nice, but you're still not ready to move in together and may never be ready for that, given the way things are going."

"That's nice, but I still don't foresee the romantic or physical side of our relationship growing."

In short, he was offering me a return to the status quo I no longer wanted to live with back in 2005. I certainly don't want to go back to living with it two years later!

I woke up before the discussion ended or I gave him an answer. I was rather troubled by the whole thing. Primarily, I was troubled by the fact that I was dreaming about him again two years after I broke up with him. I was troubled by that part of me in the dream that really did want to get back together with him. That's mainly because I'm trourlbe by the idea that such a part of me probably still exists in the waking world. I want to move forward with my life. I want to look for that better, more fulfilling, and healthier relationship that most of me (the part that was cold and rational in the dream) knows I deserve. And I don't want some part of me that still occasionally thinks longlingly of the one(s) that didn't work out to get in the way of future possibilities.

And that's why it probably particularly bothered me that I didn't give him an answer before I woke up. Specifically, it bothers me that I didn't just come right out and tell him that I'm still not interested in what he's still offering me. Because that just makes it feel all the more like that small part of me is still holding me back.

Since I first began to check out Misty Irons this weekend, I've spent a certain amount of time looking over her site and blog. I find her search for truth refreshing and inspiring. Also, I admire her honest desire to create and facilitate dialogue. So when I ran across her three part series on how queers and conservative Christians "talk past each other, I was more than a little fascinated. For this entry, I'm going to focus on the contents of Part 1, where she talks about her initial difficulty in understanding gay pride.

In all reality, both my personal experiences and my observations have led me to conclude that gay pride is a difficult concept for most queers to understand when they're first coming to terms with their sexual orientation. I remember the first year or two of my own journey where the whole idea made no sense. I remember telling my friends, "I may be able to accept that I'm gay, but I see no point in being proud about it." I also argued that it made no more sense to be proud of being gay than it did to be proud that I had blue eyes.

Just as Misty had to get a clearer picture of the coming out process and the difficulty and self-hatred that is usually involved in the early stages of the coming out process to understand the subsequent pride, I had to go through that process before I could truly appreciate and even experience that pride for myself. And I've noticed the same lack of understanding in the handful of other gay people (mostly men) I've known while they're going through that stage of their life again. So it only makes sense that non-queers would only be able to understand the idea of gay pride only after becoming familiar with the processing leading up to it.

This is where Misty notes that not everyone who is gay talks about this early period of self-hatred. In fact, she goes so far as to suggest that its discussion is practically forbidden in the gay community:

It was a strange thing, then, for me to learn that when someone who is gay makes such an honest admission, they are practically shouted down by fellow gays for “self-hatred.” The very admission that helped to open up my mind and heart, just enough to encourage me to keep on digging, is considered a heresy in the gay community.

Again, based on my own experiences and observations, I am inclined to agree with her assessment. And like her, I find this state of affairs troubling -- both for the reasons she mentioned and my own. To that extent, I think it's important to consider what motivates this push for silence.

First, I think that we must face the simple truth that we as humans prefer to avoid that which causes us pain -- or even makes us uncomfortable -- whenever possible. The early stages in the journey to self-acceptance are often extremely painful. Even among those who were raised in "gay-friendly" family environments, there's often still a certain amount of discomfort in the coming out process. For those of us who were raised in environments that took a much more negative outlook on homosexuality, the process can be downright hellish. I don't think it's any that wonder we might be a little hesitant to drudge that back up or put it on display for others.

Of course, this explains why an individual might not want to expose their own past pains. It does not explain why an individual would actively discourage another person from doing so. It does not explain why we are so quick to silence those going through the process and haven't fully escaped that self-loathing or sense of resignation to move into actual self-acceptance and self-affirmation.

My personal theory on that one is that we silence them because seeing their pain reminds us of our own. Allowing those who are still on the journey to speak too strongly of these things reminds us of that past we'd like to move beyond and forget about. Unfortunately, attempting to silence them robs us of something the experience offers us: an opportunity for deeper, more complete healing of our own pains.

I also believe that in some ways, it's a well-intentioned attempt at protecting the person who is hasn't reached the point of self-acceptance. To put as fine a point as possible on it, admitting that one wishes one wasn't gay is a pretty good invitation to the proponents of ex-gay therapy to offer you their alternative. That's an alternative that many of us have tried and failed at, sometimes at great personal cost. So the thought of seeing someone else open themselves up to going down that road themselves can cause some pretty strong reactions. And it is not surprising, however unfortunate it may be, that sometimes, the reaction results in strongly discouraging someone from making such statements.

Ultimately, I think this kind of reaction is more harmful than good. Not only does it prevent would-be supporters from fully understanding us, but it also has negative effects on us. Not being able to be open about our experiences and feelings only inhibits us from finding healing and wholeness. Hopefully, this truth is something that we as individuals and a community will come to understand and seek to change the way we handle these issues in the future.

While driving to Applebee's tonight, Aerosmith's song, I Don't Want to Miss a Thing, came on the radio. There are many songs that are deeply connected to memories of people and events in my life, and this is one such song. In fact, it's probably one of the most strongly connected songs I can think of.

Tonight, this song took me back to my relationship with my first boyfriend. At the time Chris (not his real name) and I were dating, this song was relatively new and seeing a lot of airtime across the nation. And every time I heard it, I became more deeply convinced that it was the perfect song to describe how I felt about our relationship. In fact, I think I pointed this out to Chris at the time.

Thinking about the relationship now, I can still understand why I felt this way. Chris and I seldom saw each other (we probably spent barely over a week total together throughout the six months we were "involved"), and it was perfectly reasonable for me to want to make as much of that precious rare time as I could. On more than one occasion, I ended up taking a sick or personal day off work just so I could have those eight more hours with him.

Of course, there were other reasons for feeling like this, too. The relationship wasn't healthy, and I knew it. And that made me want to cling to it even tighter, holding it together out of my own desparation. Aerosmith's song spoke to me powerfully and romantically about that desparation I was feeling. In many ways, I used that song to validate my sense of desperation.

As I listened to that song this evening and allowed these memories and thoughts to play through my mind, I began to ask myself many questions. The first question was whether there was any pain associated with this song or the memories that it evoked. There wasn't, and I have to admit that I'm a little surprised by that. Certainly, there's a certain morose feel to the whole thing as I think of mistakes made and lessons learned. And there's the memory of the pain that used to be there. There's the knowledge that years ago, hearing this song would've driven me to tears almost instantly. But not this evening. This evening, there was merely a sense of familiarity and a knowledge of what has passed. And while I find it somewhat strange, I also find it rather comforting.

Of course, I also asked myself how I felt about the message of the song today. If I were with someone, would this song still reflect how I would feel about a new relationship? And I think that for the most part, I can say that it doesn't. Because now, my love relationships aren't about desperation, they're about something else.

The underlying premise of the song is about a relationship that would consume my whole life, an that's not what I'm lookin fo at all. Certainly, I want a lover I can share my life with, and I'd prefer to spend the rest of my life with him. And there are certainly those moments I will want to get lost in, but only for a time. Because there are other things in my life that are equally important. And I do not wish to give up those things completely just so I can make sure I "don't miss a thing" with my lover. That just isn't healthy.

It's strange to think of the thought processes a song can initiate. Of course, I also find it interesting that this all started on the same day that I had a dream about Chris (sadly, I don't remember any details) while napping.

While chatting to me online last night, my friend, Panda, commented to me that she barely recognized the shy, introverted, inscure boy she first befriended about a decade ago. And she's absolutely right. I'm hardly that person I was back when she and I met and she helped me make it through some of the most emotionally trying times of my life. I'm not sure I could point to an exact time when I transformed into the self-confident, flirtatious, and occasionally intimidating guy that I am today. To be honest, I think it was a process and there's no single "flash point" I could point to anyway. It just progressed as time went on.

In many ways, I think I was always the person I am today, even back then. I just didn't fully realize it. But as I've walked that path and allowed myself to discover my inner strengths and source of confidence, I've become more and more myself. I've found a comfort with myself that, if I take the time to really think about, I never really knew before. And that's fantastic.

Of course, as I think about it, I also think of some of those qualities I always have had -- and even exhibited back before I punched through my shell and exploded into the world -- and I hope that they are still equally visible. For example, I don't want the fact that I'm now quite friendly, outgoing, flirtatious, and willing to actually say a number of things to ever negate the fact that I'm a good listener and able to give people a shoulder to cry on.

Oh, I know I'll never lose those qualities. They're as much a part of me as these new aspects of my personality are. They always will be. But I hope that they continue to remain visible rather than getting obscured by my ability and desire to be more outgoing and forthright.

In reality, I think that won't be a problem in the long run. Right now, I'm exploring something new in my life and a new dimension of my being. I suppose that to some degree, it's only appropriate that it get a little extra focus and even be a bit emphasized. But my fondest desire is to eventually find a way to integrate it all so that it feels and looks like a complete whole rather than fractionalized and somewhat conflicting pieces trying to coexist. After all, I want to be a complete whole, and all of these things are what make the whole of me.

On another site, I ended up asking all my friends to reassure me that I didn't sound as emo as I feel like I've been sounding. I even went so far as to tell them to lie to me if they have to. I just reached the point today where I just feel like I've been way too emotional and whiny. And I hate it when I get like that.

Of course, I figure I've had good reason to be emotional and whiny. I've been going through a lot of things lately. I've been dredging up memories, past hurts, current troubles, and personal revelations that haven't been entirely comfortable to face. So while I hope to break out of this state of feeling like I'm often on the verge of tears, I think I've had more than enough valid reasons to be in such a state.

And it's not like I've falled into a deep pit of despair or anything even half that melodramatic. There have been the moments of cheer, the reasons to smile, and just a sense that there's still good in both the world and my personal life, no matter how topsy turvy it may feel right this second.

Truth be told, such emotional periods like this are a part of the path I've chosen to walk this time around. In reality, they're a part of any path, but I do think they are somewhat amplified on my journey. After all, I serve a goddess who is all about passion, and passion has it's down sides, too. After all, passion is also a synonym for suffering. And let's face it, my Lady is not one to do anything half-way, no matter what that thing happens to be.

And in reality, I'm not sure I'd change it anyway. After all, the fact that I've tasted such sorrow and bitterness has enabled me to feel great joy and ecstasy as well. Allowing myself to fully experience even the unpleasantness has granted me the freedom to discover and embrace astounding blissfulness as well. And in the end, I think it's worth it.

But all the same, I'll be glad when this downturn has passed. And I really do hope I don't sound too emo.

Saying goodbye to a friendship is never easy. However, I think it's hardest when neither of you really want to say goodbye, yet know you have to. That's the situation I've found myself in this week, and it's quite possibly the most painful experience I've ever had. And let me just say that coming from someone who was on the brink of suicide twice in his life and even allowed other people to convince him that he was evil incarnate for about a week, that's saying quite a lot.

It would be so much easier if either of us had done something malicious to the other. It would be easier if there had just been a fight, an argument over some sense of having been wronged. But there wasn't any such thing. Instead, life has simply gotten in the way, and we can't be there for each other right now. What's worse, there's no real guarantee of when that will change -- or even that it ever will. That's left one of us feeling hurt and the other feeling rather guilty. A bad situation all around.

So for now, we've said our goodbyes. They may be temporary, or they may be permanent. For now, I'm inclined to treat them as though they are permanent, simply because it'll make the healing process easier, I think. There won't be that temptation to go into denial about the whole thing and wait for something that may not come. If it comes -- and I hope it does -- it will be great. But in the meantime, there's work to be done. So I'll shed my tears and grieve so that I can get on with it as well as I can.

Due to a conversation we got into, Brian commented on the fact that this diary has been pretty focused on my lack of a relationship. I wish I could say he was wrong. But he's not. And that bugs me. I don't want to be desperate for a relationship. I don't want to have it consume me. I really want to get back to that point where I'm okay with being single and stay there.

But it's difficult. Right now, I'm going through this whole thing where I'm becoming more aware of my sexual nature again. And at the risk of giving out too much information, my libido seems to be on the rise right now. It's difficult to be going through these kinds of processes and not feel some stress over the fact that I have no one to explore that side of myself with.

Of course, the other thing I'm starting to realize is that my desire for a relationship is in part a desire to be able to put an end to the socializing thing. As I've said before, this whole thing of getting out more, doing things, and meeting people is all new to me. And while I've enjoyed it, it's not entirely comfortable for me. It's different. And there's that part of me that would like to dream of only doing it until I find my special someone and then retreat back into the familiarity of my comfort zones.

Of course, rationally, I know that'd be a mistake. Truth be told, even if I were to meet the man I'll spend the rest of my life with tomorrow, I still need to work on building up a network of friends and a general social life. I still need to learn to find and enjoy activities. I still need to meet more people and face new experiences. If I was to retreat back into my solitude, even with a wonderful guy who's perfect for me, I'd ultimately be doing myself a horrible disservice.

And yet, I can't deny how attractive or tempting an idea it is right now.