Sexually Me

So despite my absence on the blogging scene, I've been doing well. Okay, well is a relative term, but I've been doing much better than I could have hoped or expected in this juncture of my life. Lately, it's been boosted by a simple medication. But that's for another post. This is more about how even though I'm feeling much better than I could have ever hoped at times, there are pronounced & profound moments where previous guilt & feelings of shame resurface. Making me feel in many ways, lost or wishing that I had made better choices in my life. Choices that wouldn't have hurt some of those that I hold most dear. How or what causes this you might ask? A few words, composed in a lyrical fashion, accompanied by almost haunting melodies, and sung with a level of anguish & raw context that it nearly makes me cry. I can't say that I really knew the name James Blunt before last night. But now that I do, I feel like I'm just starting my j...

I have tons of respect for incredible men like Nate or even Mark , who from my perspective, seem to write about their daily travails with ease. Well, ease is the wrong word, but I only wish I could let the words flow that freely. You already know that I hide. You already know that I sequester myself within my mind. You already know that I have miles of swampy wilderness to navigate. Whenever I start to write a post, I feel that it's very much like removing a vital part of myself. I cut it out, often with a less than sharp instrument, and then toss it unceremoniously upon the examination table. I then dissect it into many tiny pieces, inspecting each, trying to understand how they comprise the whole. And the entire time, I have you looking over my shoulder. And yes, this was of my own choosing, hoping that somehow the process has taught someone, anyone, something. Maybe help them navigate these waters more easily. I can only hope that a Magellan of the mind is charting the...

Throughout therapy, things have been expected of me, like homework if you will. Some of it is to help push me towards understanding. Some of it is to move me out of my comfort zone. Several months ago, after stating that I don't always feel "normal" being bisexual, my therapist mentioned that it might be a good idea to look into finding a support group. I thought it was an interesting idea. And my first instinct was to consider if there were even any groups like that in Phoenix. I mean, it's not like it's San Francisco or something. But it was an interesting idea. The next day, in a moment of Google-itis, I found an answer. Damn you, Google! Just when I figured I wouldn't have to change or grow. And in the top of the search was a link to an Arizona chapter of BiNet . So let's flash forward to the night of the social. I was apprehensive. Nervous. Afraid of meeting "crazy people". Okay. I had no idea of who I would meet there. But I cons...

Yeah, I suck. Or I have. And still would. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about my lack of content here on Sexually Me. And now that I've had an anonymous poster say that, "u really need to update this bad-boy", here I am. Who knew it was that easy? Just needed an anonymous comment... kidding. Anyhow, back to the main point. Yes, I suck. And when I say I've been busy, I wish there were some easy to understand sliding scale displaying just how busy I've been. Let's just say that sleep is my long lost friend, who's been on a long trip to Antarctica. And if I'm lucky, their plane gets back sometime this weekend, and I'll be able to "catch up". Is it as bad as it sounds? Yeah, and possibly worse. Needless to say, I honestly feel like a shell of my former self. There are times that I do something innocuous, like kneel on the floor to pick up some of my son's toys, and the thought crosses my mind to just lie...

For those of you that might have wondered, I'm not dead. At least not totally. As a quick recap, I was incredibly busy two weeks before I left for my "official vacation". You know the drill. "Hey, before you go can you...?" Multiply that by 3 or 4 since the teammate that used to take care of all of those items has been gone for about a month (thank G*d), and he never really did anything that competently anyway. So I therefore have to figure out what he did, how he screwed it up, correct it, and then produce the correct results. To that end, saying that I have been busy is a drastic understatement. So I got all that I could done before leaving on vacation. Then after doing the West to East Coast travel insanity involving 3 planes, an extra 30 minutes in the air due to weather, 2 layovers, one of which was extended by over an hour for more weather, and another that was a rushed 3/4 mile dash from one plane to another, encompassing a grand total of about 10...

Lest you begin to think that this journey is a one person travail, you must know that my wife suffers much as I do, albeit in different ways. Last week was particularly trying... for both of us. In her own honest & insightful perspective, she wrote the following to share the other side of the coin with you. Enjoy. I'm used to being the strong one. The one other people go to when they're experiencing crises. The one they look to for an objective, rational viewpoint. The one who could look Ben in the eye and claim with utter truthfulness that if we couldn't find a way to stay married, I'd still be his best friend. Because I understand. I can see how difficult this is for him and I know he wouldn't have chosen this for us, if the choice was his to make. I'm used to being the strong one. But sometimes the burden of dealing with weighty matters such as these become too much to bear and even the strongest of us break. And that's what happened to me ...

So after I helped K to update her blog template tonight, by chance I clicked on my StatCounter. Now understand, I don't usually check on my stats. Sure, I like to see the little number in my sidebar increment "oh so slowly", but I don't obsess over it. At least not like, ahem, K, ahem. Seriously, she's obsessed. Just about every 3 days, we have a conversation that goes like: Her: chuckle... chuckle some more... chuckle even more, breaking out into a full laugh that now requires me to divert attention from my reading or computer work. Me: What's so funny? Her: Somebody searched for "slut wife text message" (oh yes, that was a real search term) to get to my blog. Me: shaking my head in bemused confusion & returning to my work. So I rarely go to my StatCounter details. I like knowing that people are getting something out of my blog, but I don't care that I have a random consistent reader in Slovenia. Another truth for K's blog. C...