Tag Archives: sex

Life update, Halloween edition

Lots of stuff has been going on, mostly good things!

Social: I’ve been leaving the house and hanging out with people!  Which means I need to give a few people some nicknames. (Pause…)  Done.  I even made a page for my cast of characters.  Yesterday I hung out with Zelda for like 6 hours.  Her friend Domino joined us for lunch, and we hit it off too, and then the three of us spent like an hour in Joanns gleefully shopping for 70% off Halloween decorations.  Last Sunday I had coffee in the morning with Rose for two hours, and then spend the afternoon with Zelda.  I am such a social butterfly.

Hellooooooo nurse: I’ve been contemplating having a sex life again.  I don’t want love, but friendship with benefits would be awesome.  I’ve even been flirting with people.  Shocking.

Brain Fun: doing fairly well on most days. There was a four-day depressive streak last week during which I only left the house once.  And the week before that I struggled with occasional bursts of impulsive recklessness.  Like, “if I ride my bike down this 65mph highway, it’s not like I’m actually attempting suicide, right?  I mean, it has a bike lane…”  But mostly I’m okay.

Thursday I started decreasing my Lamictal dosage.  I’ve been on 200mg twice a day for years, and I’m fed up with the severe memory loss it causes.  I’ve forgotten almost everything I learned in college.  I don’t remember most of my childhood.  The memories are still there, I just can’t access them.  (Thanks to my psych degree and a stint volunteering in a neuropsych lab, I know a bit about memory testing and have done some.  I store memories just fine; it’s retrieval that’s the problem.)  I consider this to be the best way to lose memories, as it means I have a chance of regaining access.  If I wasn’t storing them when they happened, I’d be completely SOL.

Lamictal is what prevents my mania.  If I start getting manic I’ll just sedate myself and then resume my former dose.  Easy.  I hope this works.

Therapy: haven’t had an appointment since my last update.  I’ll have one tomorrow, though.

Cycling: still doing it, although not as much as I’d like.  That whole reckless thing has made me a little scared to ride much.  I’ll talk to my therapist about it.

I’ve resumed my daily walks, though.  Because outdoor exercise of any kind helps my mental health.

Crafting: two inches left of Nephew’s pillow.  I’ve been spinning a lot.  Nothing else, though.  I’ve been too busy reading.

Reading: alllll the books.  So many books.  Mostly paper ones.  All non-fiction.  Which reminds me, I should update my Goodreads account.

Cello: I’ve stopped lessons until January, so that I can afford school and Christmas presents.  I’m sad, but I’ll be back to it in the new year.

Follow-up from last update: I had to reschedule the dentist, because I’ve been having some trouble with nausea.  The craft fair this last Saturday was fun, although it was just me and Mom.  I got a new journal.  Now I just need to keep up with it.

Upcoming plans: Hiking November 11th!  So excite!

Mid-month update

I seem to be stuck updating biweekly…

Therapy: not as intense as last time, but stressful nonetheless.  Talked about how I dissociate so much, both deliberately and involuntarily.  How it makes me feel safer.  How when I cried happy tears the other day, I had no idea why my eyes were watery and it confused me, and how once I realized I was happy-crying I was even more confused because how could I not know that’s what I was doing?  I have serious mind/body disconnect issues, and I want to fix it.

Reading: Saturday I started reading a book that wasn’t fanfic.  Since then I’ve read four more books and am almost done with a fifth.  The last one I finished was a novel, which delighted me.  I want to read more fiction.  I hope this lasts for a while.  Oh, yeah, and three were paper books.  Maybe I need to switch back to physical books.  Yay for good libraries!

Biking: still at it.  I’m having to take shorter rides now, though, because long ones hurt my bad knee.  I have dual rear baskets now so I can run more nearby errands on my bike.  In a little bit I’ll be riding to my sister’s to babysit…

Crafting: My ex-MIL loved the washcloths I made for her birthday.  I finished the pillow for my nephew, only for him to tell me one of the colors was wrong.  (Never mind that he had picked it out.)  So I’m waiting on new yarn to come in.  I warped for my tunic but haven’t started weaving yet.  I haven’t finished the dishcloth I started a few days ago, because I’ve been reading so much.  I got the yarn for Mom’s birthday present (washcloths that match her bathroom decor) but haven’t started those.  (Gotta finish the dishcloth first, as it uses the same needles I need for the washcloths.)  Oh, and Friday I cut out all the pieces for the change purses I’m making.  Now I just need to figure out how to sew on the zippers.  Haven’t done any spinning in a couple of months.

Mental stuff: much less depressed.  Not napping often.  Not eating junk food.  Still dissociating but not as much.  So, better overall.  I’ve been having more good days than bad.  Never did hear back from Hillary’s campaign.  I should call again.

Also… this is going to sound weird and sad.  For the last couple of years I’ve only had a libido when really depressed.  Like, I only get myself off when I’m miserable, because when I feel better I’m not interested.  What does it say about me, that arousal is a sign of depression for me?  I get anhedonic except for lust, and even then I frequently feel desire without being able to do anything about it.  But today I got turned on while in a good mood.  It felt weird, but I’m happy about it.

Also, watching cisgender porn as a trans person is hard.  Because my private fantasies are always with me in a male body, and so sometimes gay porn is awesome, but then like today I wanted to see my own physiology reflected so I was watching straight porn.  Neither feels quite right, but there’s a lack of good trans BDSM porn featuring submissives whom I can identify with even a little.  Stupid transgender problem #873987984789375…

Upcoming plans: Thursday I finally see the dentist.  (My appointment was rescheduled because of the last hurricane.)  Pride festival is Saturday, and I’m going to go for at least a little while.  Next weekend I’m going to a craft fair with Mom and ex-MIL.  In November there will be hiking in Georgia.  And cello lessons!  I resume those on Nov. 3rd.

Towards a new definition of sexuality

TMI warning for sex talk.

I had an interesting conversation with my sister tonight, instigated by my confusion over my sexual identity.  This may sound ridiculous, but it was prompted by the purchase of a sex toy.  I am not sharing details, but using it is far more pleasurable than any sex I’ve ever had with anyone ever.  (Sorry, any former lovers reading this.)  It made me start thinking about what sex means to me, about who I am as a sexual person.

My sister gave me food for thought that I’d never considered.  She described the majority of my pre-marriage sex life as “performance-based.”  Which is true.  I did have sex because I was attracted to people on occasion (really attracted to, with some people), but a lot of it was because I wanted to be seen as a sex goddess whom everyone wanted.  And I succeeded at that, back then, largely because I was willing to fuck almost anyone who asked.  I had sex because I wanted to show off, because I wanted people to like me, or because I felt sorry for them.  I frequently didn’t enjoy it except for the satisfaction of achieving one of the previously-stated goals.  I mean, it felt nice, but I faked a hell of a lot of orgasms, even with long-term partners.  (My wife and I had a conversation a few years after we got married in which we realized we had both been faking our orgasms during sex.  Not much point in trying, after that.)

Interestingly, my sister was recently discussing my gender transition with an old friend of hers, whom I dated for a couple of months when I was sixteen.  He thinks I was trying to perform “girl” even more than I was “slut”, it’s just that being “girl” was easiest for me by being the town bicycle.  (My words, not his; I assume he was more polite.  Also, “town bicycle” makes me laugh like a drain, which is why I used it here.)  Apparently it was obvious even back then that I was trying to be more female than I was.  I knew that to some degree, but really, my sister tells me that I was the last person to realize I was trans, not the first.  There’s a reason (she says) why my family’s first reaction was “…and?”  People who knew me back then haven’t been surprised, either, even the ones who’ve slept with me.

Anyway.  Back to sex.  I… don’t want any.  At least, not the kind involving a partner.  My libido is higher than it was when I was married, but if my sex toys make me this happy I don’t want to bother with anyone else.  At least, not right now.  Someday (hopefully very very far in the future) I imagine I’ll have feelings for someone and want to share my body with them, but sex for the sake of sex?  Toys.  Hands down.  I don’t know how to have sex with a partner where I don’t feel I have to perform, even with people I’ve enjoyed sleeping with.  And, frankly, I’m not interested in learning right now.  I’m enjoying being self-contained.  (Well, I’m dependent on vibrating things, but you know what I mean.)  Also, I have a very active fantasy life, and fantasy is always better than reality.  For one thing, I get to have the body I want.  Including a fully functional, working cock.  That’s not going to happen in my lifetime.

As far as the identity-questioning goes, my sister pointed out that my self-definition as queer still stands.  I’m certainly not heterosexual.  I don’t think I really qualify as asexual, since I’m still a bit enslaved by my libido, but I’m quite happy to call myself celibate for the indefinite future.  (And hey, if BBC Sherlock — not Cumberbatch, but the fictional character of Sherlock — showed up on my doorstep tomorrow and offered me a night of extremely kinky sex with no strings attached, hell yeah.  But he’s not real, and I’m glad he isn’t.  Mostly.)

To change subjects a bit, but related to me feeling self-contained: I’ve been thinking a lot about my early twenties, when I lived in south Florida with an awesome roommate.  I was single and able to support myself financially.  I had a solid social circle.  I traveled a lot.  I wrote fiction every day in my spare time.  I occasionally had sex with people, but on my terms and with no strings.  I was sane.  I wasn’t anyone’s doormat, which is what happens to me in relationships (my fault, not my partners’.  I do it to myself and I know it).  My life is starting to feel like that again, a little bit.  Different — I can’t fully support myself, and I struggle with the mental illness — but Mom and I live like bachelor roommates (we’ve lived here over two weeks and have yet to turn the oven on, but we know every detail of the microwave and where the nearest cheap takeout joints are) and I have my own space to do what I want with and I’m feeling independent and… self-contained.  I have family, friends, and sex toys.  Life isn’t perfect, but it’s improving every day.  And I’m happier than I’ve been in years.

Also, my sister has grown up to be exceedingly wise and I love her to pieces.  Thanks, kiddo, for being awesome.  I love you.

Musings on sex

I’ve had sex on the brain lately. Not just lusty thoughts, but… sexual philosophy?  Like, I’ve been thinking about what might happen the next time I go to bed with a cisgender man (which is what I want right now), and I realized that I’ll be really interested in learning more about what my partner likes besides just… friction.  Not in a submissive “let me please you” kind of way, but as equals.  I’m more interested in learning a partner’s whole body and how we relate to each other physically and mentally in bed.  I’m also not entirely sure what I like anymore, having not had sex beyond just fingering in years (and only a few times of that; my choice), so I’m interested in exploring my own reactions to stuff.  I know some things I still want, but I need to re-learn my sexuality.  Experiment.

I don’t know if this is a matter of age or gender transition or what.  But I think it’s pretty cool.  I’ve felt sexually pathetic for a decade, because my ex-wife and I weren’t very compatible in bed and I felt like a failure for it.  Which is sad, since for years before that I was confident that I was a decent lover and rarely had any complaints (although I know I’ve always been crap at blowjobs, thanks to PTSD triggers from childhood sexual abuse).  Now that I’m thinking about getting laid again (not dating, nothing romantic, just sex) I feel unsure about some things but confident that if I go to bed with somebody I can talk to, we can figure out how we work together.  It’s not rocket science, after all, and as long as the guy isn’t a selfish prick then it’ll be fine.  (And I respect myself enough to just leave if the guy’s being an asshole.  I don’t need a lover, and I’m not going to put up with a bad attitude in or out of bed.)

Maturity FTW!

First weekend with the Naiad

The Naiad stayed all weekend.  It was really fun, the three of us just lounging around the den, playing video games and talking.  She’s very sweet.  Even MIL really likes her, and said so to my best friend (who usually gets the unvarnished truths and not the polite comments she gives me).  There were also a lot of sexytimes for the Valkyrie and Naiad, some of which was done in front of me (much to my delight).

I had a couple of small freakouts, but the Naiad was not phased in the slightest.  The Valkyrie got upset at something (for good reason) and again N was fine.  And V and I had a minor quibble and N was shocked that that’s the extent of V’s and my arguing.  She’s used to lots of screaming and drama.  It was kind of sad, how very grateful she is for every little kindness we show her.  I used to be like that, after four years with my abusive ex.  Poor girl.  She’s this weird combination of brassy no-nonsense intellectual who can tear apart any argument, and scared naive girl.  I just want to hug her forever.

Sexytimes!  The Naiad apparently fancies me a little.  I’m not sure what to do about it.  I can’t have sex without a shirt on because of dysphoria, and I’m not sure what I want to do with/to/for her.  So I’m happy just watching them play around, for now.  They’re very, very sexy together.  Two pretty trans girls, both of whom are very kinky and like showing off.  Oh, poor me, having to be around them.  Hahaha.  Although Saturday I felt like crap for a little while, and I fell asleep next to the two of them when they were getting it on.  Very sad.

I had to drive N home at 5:30 this morning.  I am so tired.  And I probably gained 5 pounds today because of that damn Russell Stover outlet I posted about earlier.  I want to sleep, but I still have to go back out to the pharmacy.  *yawn*

Early morning ramblings

I feel like I should apologize for writing so much in the last few days.  I just haven’t been well, and writing is one of the ways I’ve always dealt with it.

It’s 4:30am as I start writing this.  I haven’t slept.  I took two Klonopin and they made me sleepy, but inside my brain it felt like a caffeinated squirrel was bouncing off the walls.  I think I shall name the squirrel Glinda.  Glinda won’t let me sleep.  Glinda’s kind of a bitch.

I think about gender a lot.  Comes with the territory of being a non-cis person.  Hell, I have to think about gender every time I go to a public bathroom.  which one do I use?  I’ve gotten where I choose almost at random.  I prefer the gents, but I feel safer using the ladies’ because I can point to my crotch if necessary.  Sigh.

Anyway, the thought occurred to me that if it wasn’t for having the wrong body parts and lacking that intrinsic feeling of womanhood, I’d be perfectly content with being a butch not-really-a-lesbian.  I feel more kinship with women.  I spend most of my time with women, and prefer it that way.  But I just don’t quite fit in.  And that’s not including the whole body dysphoria thing.  I wonder if I’ll ever be able to have sex again, between the dysphoria and the performance anxiety.  The Valkyrie and I find each other really sexy, but I’m so uncomfortable in my skin that I have no idea what I want in bed.  Add to that the fact that her dysphoria has meant I haven’t been able to give her what she wants… I feel like I’m not even a good kisser, much less a good lover.  If I had to be single I’d probably stick with celibacy because it’s safer than a partner finding out I was terrible in bed.

I would pay good money and give up a few organs just to be more normal for a while.  I don’t hate myself, but I hate everything that’s wrong with me.