so I think (know) that most of the time when I'm blogging it's more or less a mating call. it actually did work once, sort of, (sean called my livejournal posts circa march 2007 "intoxicating" and proceeded to hit on me) - meh. I'm lonely. I'll deal.
I was watching bones tonight, there's an episode where sweets is revealed to come from an abusive home (...actually I think over half the main characters had traumatic childhoods, maybe I'm not the only person whose immediate response to that is "hug them!") - and I find myself immediately crushing on the stupid character. who is straight and played by a straight guy, who I will never meet anyway. (to the show's credit the most normal and consistently supportive of the main characters is bisexual.)
I want to work in foster care/adoption. I don't even know what that means, honestly, besides likely giving large numbers of children to nurturing, family-oriented fundamentalists who will most likely attempt to raise them to hate me and all gay people. (dear left: please adopt more, my fundie friends and relatives definitely put their money where their mouth is on this issue, and liberals reproduce below replacement rate to begin with...though my poli sci friend informs me I am not actually liberal, rather a libertarian socialist)
my shrink told me years ago that I identify with orphans because I feel cut off from my parents, I'm pretty sure he's right. I'm slightly freaked out by the fact that finding out an otherwise normal adult has scars makes me find them more attractive...though I think I answered my own implied question just by phrasing that right. (I knew I journaled for a reason.) sweets had literal scars on his back from being whipped or something as a small child. that makes me want to nurture, cuddle, and sex the guy. I'm pretty damn sure that finding out someone had been sexually abused would slam down a barrier to physical intimacy of any kind (i.e. down to handshakes) like the berlin wall in my head. I was worried, as I worry whenever I have the oppurtunity to think of myself around children, that it was somehow an indication I'm a child molestor without knowing it. despite the fact the idea makes me want to projectile vomit. OCD, maybe, I wish I knew what caused that kind of paranoia. I all but carried my *large* and very old dog up the stairs tonight but still couldn't help a flash thought of "I could break her back leg if I wanted." I do that with pretty much everything I find profoundly offensive, thinking racial slurs is something I've noticed too, it's like there's a part of me that sits around and tries to freak out and upset all the other parts with suggestions that make me doubt whether or not I'm a good person. the racial slurs were what made it the most obvious, it's seriously like an entirely seperate person sitting in my head waiting for an oppurtunity to piss me off and shame me the most. I'd think it was funny it didn't incorporate internalized homophobia, but I'm pretty sure my much more profound fears of even enjoying gender-inappropriate clothing and mannerisms in private and my history of extreme self doubt about ever being loved by anyone (fairly typical anti-gay myth, actually, "come to ex-gay therapy, everybody knows gay men are lonely and unhappy.") are much more effective than just repeating "faggot" at me in my head.
the depression isn't exactly beaten, I think about self harm and suicide all the time, but it's externalized to a very high degree, which makes it a lot easier to deal with...though I'm not sure if compartimentalizing something to the point you exclude it from your self-identity is healthy. when I'm alone it's not at all uncommon for me to say "hush!" out loud to compulsions and anxieties I pushed away from my center. I wish it shut them up instead of just giving me the psychic equivalent of an evil-ass siamese twin. (I doubt anyone is reading this but just in case, disclaimer: when I refer to any of the above in anything but the first person I'm being metaphorical.)
getting back to what I originally meant to write about though...the tumblr thing, and the livejournal thing, and every other blog I've ever had - it's an attempt to attract people with pretty things, but also - by letting them into my stream of consciousness, to be really understood and then connected with on a level I've never had before. I want that on a really deep level, and the farther I have to push it into the future the more it hurts. I don't know that I'll ever have it, but I hope so. *shrug* still, what I was trying to get at - I think the reason I've been interested in being a therapist for so long (the social work thing being a "new" major, but something I first wanted to do back in 2007, therapy since before 2005) is that it involves genuine deep connection with people. the same thing I'm looking for romantically, artistically (not that I'm much of an artist, if at all, but I include sharing things I find beautiful with others as art, even if I didn't produce them) and maybe with kids, if I'm really wanting to work with them because I identify with abandoned children.
as I just texted to my friend, pretty much everything I do or want to do is tied to a complex of similar desires, and I want to get to the core issue here. in the same episode of bones I found out sweets has scars (note: found his wiki page up on my ipod browser - I started to think he was cute 3 days ago, the scars didn't create it they just helped) he also mentioned that booth and brenan sublimate their sexual attraction for each other into something else.
the possibility for desires to be sublimated opens up the possibility that they aren't manifesting directly with me, that what attracts me to different ideas can be widely different from their surface relevence (with sex it probably is) and maybe one need has multiple manifestations which I've considered seperate entities...
this was disjointed and probably made no sense, but it was helpful for me, and I'm not distracted by the clinical handbook of mindfulness based therapy. au revoir
- (no subject)