It will end...

[outlier_lynn]

It always does. My brain is making up stories right and left that place me outside humanity. I know they aren't real. But right now, it is only a knowing. My emotions are strong and generally unpleasant. It's not exactly a pity-party, either.

In the old transactional analysis model, I'd say I was firmly in the middle of "I'm OK and you're a piece of dog meat." (Or something like that) I know that it is covering up something pretty massive that I'm hiding from myself. I have a few puzzle pieces and I'm not liking the picture that is emerging. Well, here's what seems to be going on in my head...

At some point in my life I created the meaning that sexual behavior is a strong, maybe the strongest, show of affection. It's a fantasy I have, I guess.

But that theory never seems to work out in practice. In the end it never feels like a sharing of affection. And I never feel like I belong.

Just once, I would love to feel what it seems to me that other people feel physically and emotionally during sex -- especially really good sex. I've faked excitement for the ecstatic pleasure of sexual partners, but the real thing just eludes me. The most excited I seem to get is growling while neck biting. That just seems to happen.

Hmm. The body chemicals produced during sex go right the pleasure centers of the brain. Several drugs do that, too. The drugs I have tried that are supposed to hit the pleasure center do nothing for me at all. Oh great. Now I'm making up a story about brain damage.

Blaaah. This is some sort of post-sex depression and it will go away. SOON!

Sexual behavior isn't suppose to make a person feel separate, it's supposed to make people feel closer. Damn, damn, damn. (Well, okay. NOW it's a pity-party.)

I'm going to bed.

Comments

[serenejournal.livejournal.com]

But that theory never seems to work out in practice. In the end it never feels like a sharing of affection. And I never feel like I belong.

My thoughts on this, for what they're worth: For a long time, I was worried about myself because sex wasn't magical and healing and full of connection between me and the other(s). Then (and I only speak for myself here) I realized that my body, my sexuality, isn't separate from all the other things about how I relate to people, and how I relate to people, how I connect with them, is more subtle and tentative (on all levels, it seems to me) than it seems to be for a lot of other people. My connection to others isn't loud and obvious and immediately satisfying and (much as I like sex and, especially, the dance leading up to sex) neither is sex, for me. It was disappointing, in a way, to discover that about myself, but also deeply satisfying in an a-ha sort of way.

Anyway, you're not alone in feeling like sex doesn't necessarily "do what it's supposed to." *hug*

[crazed-lynn.livejournal.com]

Thanks.

It's nice to not be alone. Thanks for being willing to share this about yourself.

Love,
Lynn

[serenejournal.livejournal.com]

I feel relieved to read this. I had translated "It's not the sex thing: Well, that just made it worse, actually." in your next entry to be directed at me, and I was feeling sad about being unhelpful.

fantasy versus reality

[pir-anha.livejournal.com]

At some point in my life I created the meaning that sexual behavior is a strong, maybe the strongest, show of affection. It's a fantasy I have, I guess.

yeah, damn right it is, especially when you aren't even feeling it yourself, but are going by what you've read or heard from other people.

for some people sexual behaviour is their strongest form of affection. i would bet that this is in fact not true for most people -- what, affection shown to children, parents, and friends is chopped liver compared to sexual affection? i don't think so.

But that theory never seems to work out in practice. In the end it never feels like a sharing of affection. And I never feel like I belong.

that sounds very familiar, because that is how sex used to feel to me all the time. i had a fantasy too, from listening to other people, that sex would shake my world. it never did. but surprise, surprise, it got vastly better when i gave up on carrying my fantasy with me into reality. it still doesn't shake my world. but it's at least pleasant now, and it does count as affection, and i no longer feel separate and alienated from the person with whom i am having it. when i am having it with somebody. i've relegated sex to a very occasional back burner because i get a lot more out of other forms of interaction and affection, and without the dangers.

and that is ok. people can have very widely diverging reactions to stimuli -- clear across the board from pleasure to pain. that isn't about "brain damage" for the most part (and my experience jives with yours, i also don't have the drug reactions so many others seem to have).

and you know what? there is not a thing wrong with me because i don't get addicted to psychoactive substances, and there isn't a thing wrong with me because i derive more pleasure from an intimate conversation with a friend than from a roll in the hay with somebody who makes my hormones jump.

and in the final analysis, my intellect is rather more knowledgeable about what pleases me than my hormones.

don't "should" yourself so much, lynn!

*hug*. (you give great hugs!)

-piranha

Re: fantasy versus reality

[crazed-lynn.livejournal.com]

Preen. I do give great hugs. It's cause I mean them.

I give great lots of things. And I know damn well that I am loved. Lots of people go out of their way to tell me. Preen, again.

I've just figured something out! When I ask for something physical, I can try something like this (with existing sweeties, of course): "I'd like some physical affection. What's that look like for you? Here's what it would like for me.... What can we work out?"

I love being me.

And I love sharp-toothed fishes.

Love,
Lynn