Life Can Be A Drag

The past few weeks have been very unsettling for me - I have lost sight of who I am.  I have not been sure of who I am for a long time because I am rarely that person;

I have a persona that I present to the world.  When I was seeing my last therapist, we used to refer to it as my 'showbiz personality'.  It automatically clicks in when I have to leave the house - I no longer have any control of it.  In some respects, it has become an over exaggerated parody of myself.

The other me is quiet and private.  That one can happily sit quietly for hours meditating, listening to music or even just daydreaming.  It is a personality that doesn't feel the need to put on a show for the amusement of others.

I feel sure that most people have different aspects of themselves that they show depending on who they are with or what the situation.  At least I hope they do - otherwise I am further gone than I thought!  I do wonder though if everyone has very different specific personalities.

One of the things that has occupied my mind has been an interest in drag.  I would love to put on the wig, the heels, the make up, the glitzy frock.  How would my personalities handle it?  The other day a thought occurred to me - my use of the 'showbiz personality' is effectively doing drag without the wig, etc., which reminded me of the quote by RuPaul.

I am just doing my drag in a different format.  It might be fun to try going the whole hog though - and maybe even brave an audience.  I have to admit that I do admire some drag queens a huge amount - the likes of Panti Bliss, who is an outstanding orator and an inspiration.

There is another side to my current personality confusion.  This is best illustrated by Caitlyn Jenner.  Is that what I want?  I am feminine but would I want to change my body to that extent?  I don't know.  I have always been happy with the bits I have, but perhaps if I had transitioned when I was younger it might have helped me with issues I have around my gender identity.  Of course, it might not too.  Perhaps I am just not a man nor a woman.  The older I get, the more I feel constrained by binary gender.  I am neither one nor the other, I am a blend of both.  I think most people probably are.  It just so happens that I am somewhere nearer the middle ground between the traditional male and female depictions.  Perhaps one day society will be able to accept people as they are and allow them to show themselves in a way that matches how they feel.

Caitlyn Jenner did inspire me in one aspect.  In the virtual world of Second Life, I have abandoned male avatars and now inhabit a female one.  She is not a parody.  She is not in drag.  She is a fully fledged female representation of my personality - feminine, interested in using fashion to show off who she is, warm, friendly and very rude!

  

Of course, the downside of my gender identity crisis is that I have come to the conclusion that I will never have a satisfying relationship and am destined to spend a solitary existence.  The pinnacle of the homosexual world is "straight looking, straight acting".  I do enough of an act without trying to incorporate straightness and let's be honest, everyone who has met me can testify that I am unlikely to ever pass as straight.

Perhaps I need to find what works for me and make do with that - a lonely path but one that I make for myself.

Blah.

I have come to the conclusion that I was always be alone.  I want something that can't ever be found.  I want a man who is altruistic, gregarious, loving, driven, ambitious, focused, strong...  I want a man who will protect me and care for me.  I want a...hero.  And we all know that they don't exist outside of comic books.

A Basic Need

I had a conversation with a couple of people a few weeks ago.  We were discussing what we wanted out of life.  I think my point of view threw them totally.  So often these days people want a new car, a nice house, a foreign holiday, a new gadget (phone, TV, music player, etc.)  All of the material stuff means very little to me.  I am not interested in owning stuff or being massively successful.  Yes I want a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my belly and to be good at the job I have.  Despite having lived with very little for so long, I don't crave possessions.

What I want now is the same thing I have always wanted.  I want someone to love me.  I want to be with someone who wants to be around me.  Someone who will show me affection.  Someone who will take care of my basic needs as I want to do for him.  In a world where everything seems based on wealth and success, my meagre aspiration seems very sad, but in all honesty that feeling of being held in someone's arms is all I need.

Feeling...mental.

The thing I really find hard to deal with in regard to my mental health issues is how it isn't specific.

If I went to the doctor and said my leg was hurting and there was a large piece of metal sticking out of it, I would be sent to hospital for the metal to be removed.  The wound would be treated and would eventually heal (hopefully).

How do you address mental health issues if there is nothing there to see.  "I feel dizzy".  "I feel anxious".  "My head feels like it is bending in three directions".  "I worry about going outside in case there is a zombie apocalypse".  "I am overwhelmed by groups of people."  "My sleep pattern is disrupted."

"Here are some pills - take them often until YOU eventually go away and cease to be an annoyance to me.  You will become a blur to everyone including yourself."

The problems don't go away, but the ability care about them does.

Relationship?

So it is my anniversary this month - I will have been with my 'partner' for seventeen years.  Not totally sure that 'been with' is the correct term.  We don't live together.  There is very little commitment.  The relationship has not been consummated - yes I know that is probably hard to believe, but there we go.  He has met my nieces, my parents, my friends.  I have met his mother - once...and she didn't get out of the car at my house.  It was their three bedroom house that I decorated from top to bottom last year - they were not there at the time, I have not been invited back since.

We have an open relationship.  He told me years ago that because of circumstances (his parents), he could only see me for a couple of hours a couple of times a week and did not expect me "to sit at home with my knitting".  I did find out that he was going 'cruising'...so he was not averse to sex - just not with me.  My attempts to initiate anything with him would always end with me being brushed off.

We go on holiday for a weekend every year - separate beds, of course.  We exchange small gifts at birthdays and Christmas - but I am not materialistic and would rather have a display of affection.

Do I love him?  Yes, but it is more as a friend than in a romantic way.  He has been kind to me through my difficult times and I am afraid of hurting him.  Does he love me?  Who knows.

So why are we together?  Because I was always afraid that I would end up alone.  Because I couldn't believe anyone would love me.  Because something is better than nothing.  As it turns out, I feel more alone now...I still can't believe anyone would love me...it depends on the something as to whether it is better than nothing.

Happy anniversary to me.

Escape

It's a grey and dreary day as I walk through town.  The sky is grey.  The large flakes floating down from the clouds are grey.  The fallen flakes on the ground are grey.  It isn't snow; it's ash.  I can smell it - a dry, acrid smell heavy in the still air.  The sounds around me seem muffled somehow, as if sound itself has become grey and dull.

There are a couple of people scuttling along by the buildings on the other side of the road.  From one of the doorways, a man emerges and hurries towards me.  Before I have time to react to him, he has gripped my right arm and spun me back to face the direction I have just come from.  A sense of panic mixed with relief courses through me as he drags me along.

A noise pierces through the cloak of dead air.  It's like an incredible crackle of electricity that fades almost instantly to a throbbing hum.  Turning my head, I can see a brilliant purple shaft of light extending from the ground up in to the greyness of the sky somewhere out of town.  My companion increases his speed and I am pulled along in awe of this beam that punctures a hole through the cloud.  As abruptly as the sound and light began, it ends.  The humming is replaced within a few seconds by the sound of a great force of rushing air.  From inside the wound in the sky appears a circle of fire.  It spreads out, setting light to the whole of the sky in rolling waves of gold and scarlet.  When the flames cease, the greyness returns to the sky and the world around me.  The ash falls even thicker.

I am lead in to a side street and then immediately in to an alleyway.  The man who has been pulling me along clamps a hand over my mouth and pushes me backwards in to a doorway.  My head and back slam in to the wooden door, but little sound beyond a whimper issues from me as his hand is so tight.  I notice a mechanical whirring sound drawing closer.  The man removes his hand from my mouth and replaces it with his own mouth.  His kiss is rough and insistent, but my hands cling to him rather than pushing him away.  Something is in the side street.  It's shadow darkens the doorway.  I can't see it, but I know what it looks like as I have seen them before.  A large metallic craft, about the size of a bus hovering twenty feet or so above the ground.  After a few seconds, it withdraws back on to the main street.  The man I am with pulls back from me slightly.  He smiles and uses a thumb to wipe ash from my face.

Once the sound of the craft has gone, my companion and I break from the cover of the doorway and run along the side street.  He still holds my arm tightly as we run.  We emerge back on to the main street which is devoid of people and cars.  After running for a few minutes, we come to a helicopter with a group of other people waiting around it.  As we reach it, I am bundled inside and then there is a flurry of activity as everyone climbs aboard and the engine starts.  I feel like my breathing has stopped as I am gripped by the fear that the noise of the helicopter will attract unwanted attention.  We take off and head for the outskirts of town.  Suddenly there is shouting and then the helicopter lurches forward violently as something slams in to it's rear.  The pilot manages to land in the field below us, but the jolt of the forceful landing leaves everyone shaken.  Running from the downed craft, I end up scrambling face down on the ground as a blast of hot air propels everyone when the helicopter explodes.

A short distance across the field, there is a farmhouse.  Once inside I am forced down on to the floor against the wall.  Everyone is silent as we listen to the sound of mechanical whirring outside.  The large metallic craft moves away presumably satisfied that those inside the helicopter have perished.  After a time, I fall asleep, completely exhausted - physically, mentally and emotionally.

A sudden burst of light wakes me from my fitful slumber.  Startled, I hear a voice telling me it is okay.  From a doorway opposite where I was sleeping there is a curtain pulled back to reveal light from a kitchen beyond.  I eat some kind of thick stew crouching in the darkness once the curtain has been returned to it's position.

The man who rescued me from the centre of town earlier appears through a doorway to my right.  He takes my hand and leads me upstairs.  In a long corridor lit by a couple of candles, he presses me against the wall and kisses me again.  His kiss is not as rough as the first time but is even more insistent.

Somewhere outside in the darkness is a large bang...and that is where I woke up.

Yes, I'm strange.

I have always known I was different and have often describe myself as weird.  My last therapist preferred me to use the world 'eccentric' (as in the title of my blog), but let's be honest the word eccentric is just a polite way of saying odd.

So here is yet another example of my 'eccentricity'.  I was skimming through profiles on some 'dating' websites this morning and I noticed that men were looking for very specific things...twinks, muscled guys, bears. Asians, blonds, slim guys, older guys, and so on.  It occurred to me how different I am.  I would like a man who loves me and who I love, a man who has respect for himself, for others and the world around him, a man who can spell and punctuate.

Yes, I'm strange.