Wednesday, September 30, 2015


There are some days that I just get tired of being here. I want to go somewhere where no one knows me. Start over, I guess. That's always something I've been afraid of. Uprooting myself from my support system and planting myself in a strange place. So, I suppose it's more an urge to replant with an anchor. I have lived here all my life. Every anxiety trigger I have is here. I have often romanticized moving to him will help me improve myself and my broken brain. I want it so badly. I've been wanting it for more than two years.

She likes to hide from people too. We can hide together.
And cuddle.
I am on the precipice of running away. Metaphorically, of course. I can't actually go anywhere. Not without an anchor. I have the means to go, but without the anchor, not the means to stay. But, I can crawl into my hole and disappear from the realms of other humans aside from those I can't avoid. Like work. Or roommates.

I have these little breakdowns every so often. For a while, I would consistently fall apart every spring. However, it's been a while since my last internal combustion, so I suppose I was due for a pyroclastic eruption.

The sudden onset of that crippling fear of social interaction. That sickening feeling of perpetual nausea. The tightness in your chest. The repetitive thoughts beating at the back of your brain. Then there's that feeling that's hard to describe. It's a like a combination of a tension headache and being lightheaded. It's that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, except it's in your head.

I don't know if this is what depression is, or if it's just months or years of over-stimulation and stresses crashing down on me all at once. Or perhaps it's just one long panic attack stretching over days like a storm that won't let up. I can't even really socialize much because it just starts all over again. My libido is shot. I can't even really think about sex without bottoming out. I tried to catch up on sinful sunday posts yesterday, I think, but I could only manage a few before I wanted to beat my head against the wall.

I feel like I'm not accomplishing much of anything. I backed off of FetLife completely, but I'm still not getting anything done. I'm not packing for my move. I'm not dancing. I'm not writing, nothing beyond what I've inscribed here so far. Hell, I went to bed two hours early last night because sleeping is kind of easier than thinking right now.

I'm not sure what I plan to do, besides withdraw for a while. I'm popping Valerian root two or three times a day. I'm not sure how well it's working, but I think it's helping a little. I have some posts planned, so I'm not going to abandon my blog whilst I have my little meltdown. I just have to find the damn notebook that has my outline in it. Just don't be upset if I don't comment on some of the more sexual posts on the memes. I'm triggery as fuck right now. It's not any fault of yours. I just get this way sometimes.

I'm resisting the urge to ask permission for some of my self-inflicted masochism. He doesn't like it and most people would disapprove. It relieves the tension though. Sometimes.

I suppose this isn't very wicked, and I'm not sure how well it fits the theme. I'm definitely revisiting things. Catching up with the monsters in my head. Reliving the old days.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked


  1. I hope you can work through these feelings and feel better soon. Sending you lots of hugs!

    Rebel xox

    1. Thank you. I would definitely like to get back to some semblance of normal. I just haven't figured out how yet.

  2. Be kind to yourself is my advice, and if you need that release than there is nothing wrong in asking for it in my opinion