My Only Consistency is Inconsistency

Sometimes, I think I might have borderline personality disorder. Let’s add that to the list of things I might have: high functioning autism, gender dysphoria, chronic depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, maladaptive day dreaming, avoidant personality disorder, yaddayadda disorder. Sigh.

I say this mainly because from day to day I don’t seem to have a consistent identity. Some days I feel like I can be a happy perky person, others I want to cut all ties and live in the woods, some days I feel resigned to becoming a Real Woman, some days I just can’t even. I am mostly a social chameleon who does it quite poorly.

The only thing that seems to be solid and reliable from day to day is my reliance on my inner world. That and my add1ctions. I’ve made no progress on my resolutions, but, well, I’m still feeling optimistic. The revelation that I can have short hair has made me more hopeful for some sort of daily makeup routine. If I don’t have to poorly style my thin, fine hair I can put some time and energy into makeup. I’m planning to start taking my Chantix again and quit for good. Smoking is such a powerful crutch for me, though, and it suits my social isolation quite well. Not to mention my need to start dieting and exercising again.

When I think about all of this, I get overwhelmed. The only way I can get through it is planning. I need to set aside a day to plan these things. The first thing on the list is reforming my sleeping habits. I want to wake up in the morning, now that spring is approaching. It’s nice to wake up hearing the birds singing. Staying up until 3am is a sort of rebellion, in the end. It’s the only way I get a couple of hours to myself during the day as well. But it needs to end, because it’s threatening my job.

Whoo. Not to mention the talk my husband and I had last night about our dead bedroom. I pretty much stated that I don’t want to be touched, by anyone, because I am disgusting. Thank you stepmother for planting that seed so firmly. But hubby is suffering for it, even though I don’t really think he groks how my self-image is tied to my s3xuality. I don’t want him to suffer. I also don’t want to have to pretend to enjoy being touched. I can’t handle intimacy of any kind, I guess.

Okay. One thing at a time. Starting with sleep. I’ve been doing my best to stop drinking caffeine after work. I need to take a trip to the grocery and get some decaf diet soda and maybe a couple jugs of distilled water. I can do this. I really can.


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