It’s hard to believe two years have gone by. The many hours not spent on porn and instead spent here, reading offline, and trying to do many things to find some way out of my rabbit hole. As with last year, porn seems so far away and yet always near as if I’m stuck in active duty mode. Vigilance and fight or flight are exhausting. The tour of duty is too long. No wonder computers are making us mad. We just can’t escape the ever-present nearness of the falling bombs (even if they are friendly emails).
Sometimes I wish there were a way to escape this active duty, push-pull cycle and just find some rest somewhere for a short while. Travel is often helpful. It can be tiring in other ways. Exhaustion is a stuck part of my life. Of course, a relationship, elusive as one seems for me, would help. Yet, even seeking that can make me a bit bonkers. It seems that for all my growth and battle scars, I can’t advance the front line. I’m perpetually in this fouled trench getting better at firing the bullets for seemingly no gain. While more ready, nothing concrete is gained. I don’t know if this is extreme discipline or a total lack of discipline. Functionality is relative and the societal scales seem irrelevant to me. Finding my sort of people is quite tough and that leaves me isolated among the masses. I took some academic/career risk last year that hasn’t led to anything much and has mostly just led to another lost year. Or is that a gained year? I confuse myself. Do I now make this trench home somehow or continue to look for some way to make measurable progress, whatever that means when my yardstick lacks marked increments or direction?
Despite being in this familiar lousy place, I am somehow finding myself more positive much of the time. Some shifting that began with 2012 or so has moved me in ways I probably can’t yet fully know. Even a return to orgasm seems different. Maybe this is closer to who I actually am. In this place, I’m also finding disturbing elements about latent desires and other varied emotions. These are mostly disturbing for their intensity rather than newness or shame. Perhaps I am finally allowing some of this to flow, even if it’s a trickle. It’s a struggle to process this intensity and the struggle creates its own ripples.
Here’s to another fun year. Maybe there can even be some bonding involved.