It's not that serious

I should be sleeping
but I'm not
this denotes a problem
some evolving issue in my id
a pimple in my psyche just waiting to breach the surface and explode embarrassingly

Why when everything is going good do I freak out?
Why must I sabotage myself just to feel normal?
Over eating 
Over spending
Over extending
Is it because I don't really think that I deserve my happiness or my success?
Have I really gotten so addicted to the adrenaline high, the strung out of stress?

Or is it just easier
to create an excuse to not live fully

See all these problems, all the extra hours I spent at work, every time I let someone use me, every time I swallowed my truth, every time I pushed myself beyond all reason in the name of sacrificing my wellbeing for those that had less: less love, less affection, less happiness, less opportunity, less vision, less drive, less will I gave up vital pieces of me.  I gave up my flesh to warm another, I gave up my heart to sustain another, I used my happiness as a blanket to smoother someones burning sorrow and when there was no one to give to I simply cut.  Cut Cut Cut Cut into myself via my health, self esteem,  self image.

I should blame my mother you know.
I really wasn't hugged enough.

But I can't blame her.  I couldn't choose how I lived as a child but I do choose how I live an adult and despite all my accomplishments this year I know beyond a doubt that it is a drop in the bucket compared to what I can really get done.

I could say that I am afraid of failure but sugah I've tasted failure.  I've been it's bedmate and lover.  Some people think its a horrible thing but once you get a whiff of it it is intoxicating because it's so safe.  IT is the gateway drug.  It's bottom floor and basement.  You can't get lower, no fall is gonna hurt as much. Stay down it whispers sounding as smooth as a leather pants wearing  Lando Calrissian.  Its like a great big fucked up hug that's hard to get out of...  no I don't fear failure.

Neither do I fear success.  I've rolled in the hay with that cocky well hung bastard as well and smoked a cigarette after so that's a non issue.

It's simpler than that
I'm too lazy.

See  I exhausted myself so I would not have to deal with the truth of what I could become.  What we all have the potential to become.
My ambient was that 60hour work week, unhealthy relationships, the problems of others, bad food, lack of exercise, my outstanding ability to turn my body into a breeding ground for illness.  And while it looked like I was fiercely forging ahead I was really running away.  I was running away from the commitments that I had made to myself, the tapestry of a destiny that I set on the loom with threads of will, faith, intuition, courage and encouragement because I was too lazy to finish it.

I looked a what my life could become and said god damn that would be a pretty thing but fuck me look at all the work its gonna take.... oh something sparkly!!!


I should be sleeping
but I can't
because the "inner I" has been asleep  for so long
my body is tierd
but my spirit is impatient
she is crouching and growling and pawing at the dirt of this fucking grave I sent her to so long ago
she is screaming in rage for her freedom.
"Let me be.  Let me be.  Let me be me."

I have no more excuses
Circumstances I have allowed myself to be put in.  Situations that "inner I" set in sway has stripped that all from me now.
I am waking up
whether I want to or not  and I have to be strong
so  that means that I have to sleep.

That's the real reason why I don't see you as much as you used too.
Like Pink said "I'm not dead just changing"

 so off to bed I go~~~



 

I keep trying to blog about what it was like on stage that Monday night.

 

What it felt like to taunt, tease and strip down to pasties and panties infront of the general public who hooted and hollered enthusiastically.  But I can’t.

 

In all honesty all I remember is this:

~nervous anticipation while standing at the curtain waiting to go on stage.

~an oddly hilarious moment when I realized in passing that the weird taste in my mouth was because I almost threw up.

~a sense of frantic disorientation when I made it back stage and wondered were my clothes were.

 

Standing there on that metal chair next to Kitty Von Quim with my arms upraised, my  hips twisted, exposed to the world was wonderful and powerful but this open ending seems trivial in comparison to what happened next.

 

During the second act there was a woman.  A belly dancer and she was gorgeous.  She was stunning, she was amazing.  She wove a spell like a shimmering  net, caught us up and drew us into her seduction.  In the end I applauded her wildly.

 

This may not seem like a big deal to some.

To me it was.

 

Less than six months ago I would have despised this woman

I would have hated her sexuality

I would have been jealous of her body

I would have compared myself to her and let her lovely image disgrace me, twist me, taunt me into a self loathing that would have began in starvation and ended with a binge.

 

But that didn’t happen this time

It didn’t happen because I was and am aware of the truth of my own sexuality, of my own body, of my own lovely image.

 

The truth of this makes me free

Free to enjoy her quaking hips

Free to applaud each thrust and twist

Free to see each bump and grind

Free to scream and clap in time

 

Because I have finally accepted me I can accept and appreciate her.

No matter who “her” is

And that is a powerful thing indeed.