Sometimes I Hate Myself

Sometimes I hate myself. I hate myself for being vulnerable. I hate myself for being trusting. I hate myself for opening up. I hate myself for caring so much. I hate myself for being honest. I hate myself for not being more skeptical. I hate myself for being forgiving. I hate myself for loving.

Because it hurts so much more when you fall.

I let a man into my heart. I told him I wanted to take things slowly. I believed the things he said to me. I ignored some of the warning signs. I trusted him with my feelings. I let myself imagine a life together. I let myself be seduced. I looked at pictures of his home and family, and envisioned being a part of that. I couldn’t imagine being more compatible with him. I put myself into his hands. I thought he felt the same way.

Then he disappeared.

No advance warning. No apology. No explanation. No response to my calls and emails.

I worried that something happened to him. I wondered if he’d reappear after a few days with an apology, and sweet, soft words of comfort. I held out cords of hope that grew thinner with each passing day. I worried that I’d done something to hurt him.

But he’s gone.

I cry. I ache. I rage. I mourn. I hurt. I’m pissed. I’m regretful. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m confused.

How is it so easy for some to find love? Why do some of us look, open our hearts and just get hurt? Am I too gullible? Too demanding? Too picky? Too cute? Too ugly? Too dumb? Too smart? Too short? Too tall? Too happy? Too sad? Too quiet? Too talkative? Too good in bed? Too bad in bed? Too submissive? Too dominant? Too old? Too young? Too liberal? Too conservative? Too passive? Too aggressive? Too emotional? Too distant? Too close? Too far? Too happy? Too sad? Too optimistic? Too pessimistic? Too thin? Too fat?

I have no answers. I just know how I feel. I think, “I’ll never find someone more compatible.” I tell myself, “You were too good for him.” I remember that I’ve felt this way before. I know that the hurt does fade. I know that I have something special to offer. I just need to be patient. I will love again. I just need to keep repeating that.

Tears

It’s been about a year since I decided that I needed to make D/s a top priority in my dating life. I know it was the right decision–I’d been searching for it for years, and just not finding it in vanilla relationships–but at some level it’s been one of the more painful decisions I’ve made.

I’m lonely. I miss the intimacy that comes with being in a relationship. (Right now I feel as if I’d give anything to just fall sleep in someone’s arms.) I get frustrated and wonder if I’ve made an impossible decision. I beat myself up because I live in a city where that’s huge, but the number of people seeking a BDSM-flavoried relationship seems inexplicably small. I question whether all of the pieces will ever fall into place. I see that the clock is ticking on other things I’d like to accomplish in life–a husband, children, the whole shebang–and wonder if I’ve made it harder to attain those things. I’ve spent most of the last two hours in tears.

I think of myself as an optimistic person. I’m upbeat, and hope for the best. But sometimes life just gets me down. I hate this feeling, because it hurts and it feels hopeless.

I’ve Had a Bad Week

The past few days have been tough on me. I’ve tried to put on a happy face and think positive thoughts, but last night, shortly before heading to bed, I broke down in tears. Today I was just focused on getting through the day, and I don’t have plans tonight, so I’m just counting the hours until I can head to bed. I’m hoping tomorrow will be better.

Feeling a Little Down

Last week I was floating on air, eagerly anticipating my date with the Dark Horse. It was the highlight of the upcoming week, so I was quite excited. The date has come and gone, and it was terrific. But today I’m feeling down…sad…a bit blah.

Over the years, I’ve had a couple bouts with depression, brought on by legitimate, real-life events. Fortunately, I’m pretty good at reading my own body and mind. I know when I might be heading toward clinical depression. Then there are the days like this, where the stars align and I just feel lousy. Every one has them. If there’s a bright side to having been clinically depressed (but still highly-functioning) in the past, it’s that I know how to distinguish between my own serious bouts and short-term blues, and I also know what to do in both cases when I think I’m having an onset of one or the other.

In this case, I think it’s a combination of a few circumstances.