I’ve been quiet here for a while, as life has been somewhat tumultuous lately. I broke up with my Fella, and we’re now trying to navigate new boundaries for cohabitation while negotiating the disentanglement of our futures, I fell down and wrecked myself a bit, which killed my libido for a while; then catching up on the work I’d put off while dealing with all that crazy stuff has been occupying most of my energies. Sex writing has been parked while I get back on my feet – both literally and otherwise.
Thing is though, I write therefore I think. I need this outlet to help me recognise and process my own feelings. Part of why I’ve been so discombobulated is because I haven’t taken the time and trouble to articulate, even to myself, what’s going on inside my head. In writing, I can get it all out, unpack it and have a good look at what comes out. So here goes.
I’m not good with transitions. I like to get where I’m going to as quickly as possible, because uncertainty makes me anxious; what’s coming next, how will I cope if I can’t anticipate and plan, what if, what if. In the past, that has lead me to reach out for the nearest handhold, jump and cling for comfort without taking the time to appraise where I’m heading for or how best to get there. Unsurprisingly, that sort of thing never ends well.
Warning and admonitions are nagging at me, the social conditioning of my own decades and all the centuries before –you’ll end up an isolated and lonely old crone, a lack of exclusive romantic partnership is a personal failure, you can’t cope on your own, you’re just too difficult to get along with, you should be more grateful, you should be less you. The revelation I’m gnawing on is that I don’t have to consider myself a broken-off half-piece of failed cishet monogamy, and since doing so doesn’t make my life any easier; why should I? Who is Rosie when she isn’t clinging to a bloke?
Which elements of my sexual behaviours are inherent, which are habit, which are protective camouflage? How do my kinks entwine within this tangle of self-doubt and second-guessing, and how to start unpicking which is which?
I need to find out without falling into the needy-romance trap. I need to go forth and seek enlightenment for myself.
Finally getting an official, clinical, formal and irrefutable diagnosis of autism has made me re-evaluate a lot about myself and the choices I have made in the past. I finally feel as though I’m allowed to be a bit kinder to Past Me for all the decisions she made that turned out to be Bad Ideas, and the instincts she dismissed because they confronted her with difficult choices she was afraid to tackle. Present Me was built on the lessons learned by Past Me; she took her lumps for the team so that Present Me could figure shit out and Future Me could make better decisions. We owe her.
I have a play date this week, with two lovely people I care about, trust, and fancy the arses off. I’m looking forward to getting up to kinky fuckery in safe hands, and most of all, I’m looking forward to being me while I do.