I’ve been struggling of late. The first time in a long time where I haven’t had much of an urge to write that wasn’t brought on by some form of depression. The spark… is just absent. It makes me nervous, but not as nervous as usual, which is hard to process.

The realization hit me recently that I feel disconnected. From myself, from my creativity, from this community. The last year and a half has been brutal mentally and I feel like I haven’t ever recovered. How do you write when you don’t feel like sharing, or worse, the thing that drove you on is missing?

I love to write. My mind is usually teeming with half formed stories demanding to get out. I’ve been blank the last month. So fucking blank. No urge and no thoughts and no stories. Just blank. It’s scary though because if I’m not filling this space with stories, if I’m not writing, who am I anymore? I write to process my feelings after all.

As for community, I’ve considered moving away from Twitter. That disconnect pervades everything and there it feels like there’s no one to hold to anymore. I’ve seen this place change a lot over the last few years, but it’s never felt like this to me. It feels lonely, business-like at times. Not warm like it had been and I don’t know how to dive back in. We could blame my mental health of late as I’m trying to work through other things. My missing desire to write also doesn’t help. I’m not connecting through my stories so of course it doesn’t feel like I’m here.

I had to make myself write all this down. I’d considered trying to link to a meme to reconnect, but I can’t even manage that right now. But here’s my feeble effort because this song feels fitting.

There’s a time that I remember, when I did not know no pain
When I believed in forever, and everything would stay the same
Now my heart feel like December when somebody say your name
‘Cause I can’t reach out to call you, but I know I will one day, yeah

Everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody hurts someday, ayy ayy
But everything gon’ be alright
Go and raise a glass and say, ayy

Here’s to the ones that we got
Cheers to the wish you were here, but you’re not
‘Cause the drinks bring back all the memories
Of everything we’ve been through
Toast to the ones here today
Toast to the ones that we lost on the way
‘Cause the drinks bring back all the memories
And the memories bring back, memories bring back you

Memories – Maroon 5

The post Where am I? appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Sleep and I have had our differences. I struggle with anxiety and depression so if something has unsettled me I’ll ruminate and stress over it. On top of that, I also have worked night shift for well over a decade. For the most part, I’ve adapted to both my mental health challenges and working nights, but my sleep has definitely suffered. 

I’ve gone through period where I’ve survived on 3 hours of sleep. When I was teaching, I had a severe bout of insomnia linked to my depression. I would be awake for hours and contemplated self-harm at many points. I was recently very depressed and would wake up in the middle of night so often I’m not sure how I was functioning. Anxiety is the worst for this. I can obsess about things so badly and frequently it will wake me up at night. 3 am is a dreaded time for me because if I’m up at 3 it may mean I’m not going back to sleep that night. 

Insomnia is a really old friend of mine. 

I’ll take Benadryl, melatonin, do deep breathing exercises, or just give up and get out of bed. Sometimes, those things work. Usually I have to work through what’s keeping me awake as the only solution. Therapy is really helping that. It’s targeting my long held anxieties so I listen to and calm some of the fear. It’s helped when I do wake up in the middle of the night unable to sleep. I can turn in and hear what the feelings are trying to tell me. 

Sleep is a valuable thing though. It’s funny how used to not getting enough of it I am. I’m usually tired at baseline and I live with being that way. When you’re on nights, your body doesn’t care if you’ve worked. It wants to be awake during daylight hours. Then because I do work nights, when I’m off, my body just decides it wants to be up at night too. 

I wish I had some trick to overcoming it. It isn’t as bad as it used to be. It’ll crop up for a week, I figure out what’s got my back up, and then I’m over it. I’m sure I’ll see my old friend again in the future whether I want to or not.

The post Enough Sleep appeared first on Cara Thereon.

What I’ve thought about more lately is how I feel better. I feel like there should be question marks after that because things are shit so I feel weird saying I feel better. I do though, feel a lot better. Less panicky, less fearful, and more mad/frustrated/angry. In order to get to this place, I had to change some habits.

I stopped drinking full cafe coffee. I don’t have much self control when it comes to stopping at one cup, and when you’re already anxious, adding more coffee makes it ten times worse. I also decreased my Twitter consumption quite a bit. I love Twitter, but honestly it can stoke those anxious feelings to such a high that I feel fear, sick, and anxiety combined. The last thing I did was start doing more body weight exercises. Indoor activities that have helped me feel more in control and combat how mush I’m eating.

My panic attacks stopped. That feeling like I was going to die, that dense of impending doom, stopped. It’s been a week without an attack. I’ve felt like I can think a little clearer and view things without this fear overwhelming me. I’ve also started writing again and feel this almost jolt of creativity.

I’m supposed to go back to work soon, which has brought up those other feelings of anger and frustration. This situation isn’t going to resolve as soon as everyone is hoping. Well, everyone who is a politician at least. My line of work puts me at heightened risk, and if people don’t continue taking this seriously enough, I could very much be exposed and die. So I’m mad because people continue to be reckless and cavalier.

My therapist says anger is great as long as it serves a purpose and we can do something with it. It’s a lovely protective mechanism because I feel alive. I’d rather be angry instead of sad or anxious. I can move forward if I’m angry, where as sadness and anxiety keep me trapped.

I’m left wondering how next week, next month, a few months from now look. How we’ll all look on the other side of this. I hope having learned something and survived.

The post Contemplating appeared first on Cara Thereon.

Not even in the sense that COVID-19 is turning the world upside down, because let’s be honest that shit is extra crazy. No, it’s been hell in my head. I’ve never been formally diagnosed with clinical anxiety or depression, but I’ve struggled with both. That makes dealing with the anxiety of this virus hell for me.

I’m sure must people have a vague idea of what I do for a living. I’m not stupid when it comes to understanding stuff like what’s going on, which makes this harder. I started out with a pretty good grasp on it. I’d vacationed and, upon returning, have gotten super sick. I was prepared, to both prevent and manage if I did get sick. The variables I hadn’t counted on are the ones that have been destroying my mind.

Fear of hurting those I Love

I flew over on Thursday to England, still very much okay with my decision to travel because I was prepared. I’ve talked about the things I’ve done to boost my immune system ad nauseam on Twitter. It’s my sickness prevention protocol that I use if there’s even a remote possibility I’ll come down with something.

Things were canceled, which needed to happen. I applaud those who made the decision to put things off or cancel outright to keep participants safe. That’s the right thing to do, always. Other people’s panic started to seep into my brain though. I have a lot of problems with absorbing others feelings and a lot of outside emotions started bombarding me. Slowly, I started to panic, too. My immediate worry was…

What if I brought in some sickness that got those around me killed?

I’d had a runny nose and so many allergy/asthma symptoms running up to leaving. What if those were hidden cues of the virus and I’d managed to infect my friends? I struggled with feeling terrible and scared and nervous and worried. All of these things that pressed down on me. I couldn’t live with myself if I got someone sick because I thought I was exempt and didn’t stay the fuck home like i should’ve.

There were times last week where I was short of breath because I was panicking. Heart palpations, shortness of breath, numb lips, and dizziness. I was obsessively monitoring for any thing. ANYTHING. I felt like I was losing it.

After much hoopla and craziness, I was forced to come home early. No big deal. I hadn’t been worried about myself as I continued to feel fine aside from some increased mental anguish. But that has changed to…

What if I miss something and get sick?

The protocol was to stay off the full 14 days. Self-isolate, monitor temperature, and all symptoms. No work and try to stay in as much as possible. Awesome, I can do that.

Except I can’t stop obsessing. I was checking my temp multiple times a day, deep breathing, and questioning every. Sniffle. Or. Sneeze. I started noticing the dizziness was increasing, the feeling of not being able to breathe, the feeling like the walls were closing in. Panic, I was, AM, panicking. And crying, and stressing, and wondering if I’d miss something so I’d one day wake up struggling to breathe. The awareness of my mortality was acute because when they say “mild case” they mean you weren’t bad enough to need a ventilator/assistance breathing. There’s a lot of space between nothing and a ventilator folks, a fact I’m acutely aware of.

I don’t feel sane right now. I’m a fucking head case. I’m having a panic attack almost daily. I’m on edge and nervous. I’m scared of hurting someone else or myself right now. I’m so fucking tired of being scared and freaked out. I’m tired of crying and wondering when the virus will take me out.

It’s not easy to talk yourself out of the fear. It isn’t for me, at least. I’ve taken to telling others when I’m feeling an attack coming on (or calling someone in the middle of one). Making sure I’m not alone when it feels like things are closing in on me. I’ve started writing again because I need to express some things. Anything to break this anxiety.

This is where I talk about hope. It’s there, but maybe I’m not the person to dish out platitudes. It’ll get worse before it gets better, for sure. I’m just trying to survive the mental hardship and come out on the other side intact. Reaching out is important though and I do hope everyone has a person to touch base with.

Panic is catching. It’s contagious in a way that’ll kill as fast as a disease. I’m doing what I can to survive it.

The post Panic is Contagious appeared first on Cara Thereon.

I’ve talked about that before, feeling unseen. Honestly, it’s this something many girls, many people, have dealt with? My feelings are real and valid, but I am not the only person to feel that way.

What I have been trying to do is to work through it.

Often times, when I say I feel invisible, I mean I don’t feel seen or valued by those people I want to be attracted to me. What even is the source of that vulnerability? That need to be seen and viewed as desirable, wanted, delightful? It’s funny because I know people are attracted to and notice me. I had a man call me beautiful as I walked by a few days ago. But trauma runs deep, doesn’t it?

Therapy is magical and no one will convince me otherwise. Okay, maybe not magical, but it is incredibly eye opening. Having someone else ask the questions, take what I feel is just ramblings about my day, and dig a little deeper into the things I’m really feeling. In this, I’m discovering the source of some of my feelings of invisibility.

My therapist does an almost family centered management of the emotions that live in us. Addressing each deeper issue and the emotions that protect them. It’s understanding whatever values trauma has allowed us to believe and changing it so it’s more aligned to who we are. Lots of exploring the mental plane and what those emotions can look like physically. Allowing them to speak so we can change them. Man, do I have issues, but I’ve learned to look and recognize how tangible those are instead of ignoring them so they can overwhelm me.

I’ll tell you a bit about how my invisibility looks internally

It’s a small child, dirty, and living in a cage. Not trapped because it feels safe in there. It’s funny how being caged in this case feels safe because it’s protecting me from everyone else. That desire to be noticed wars with the fear of what happens when I am. I’m currently addressing the desire to be noticed and my therapist gave me a task. Approach that caged part of me, reach out to it, and tell it I see it.

Lately, when I’ve had those moments where the feeling of invisibility is most intense, I do this. It comes on when I want to be tended to quite intensely so I sit, quiet my mind, and reach out to that part of me. No, I don’t quite know how to change the things that part of me believes yet, but I’m finding as I say “I see you” I feel less vulnerable. Less distressed about what I’m not receiving. I haven’t really fixed myself, but I’m seeing myself. It has had an interesting effect on me. I do feel less invisible. Yes, I still want people to want to spend time with me, value me, and want me. I just don’t feel quite so depressed if I don’t get that.

I can’t make others want me. In exploring kink, trying to find partners, and trying to have my needs met, it drives that point home hard. While I can’t get others to see me, I can change how I respond to things like rejection or being ignored. Over the last week, it’s gotten better.

It’s all about discovery, yes. Maybe my kink life is in a serious lull, but my emotional self is moving in the right direction. That’s just as important.

The post A Window Inside appeared first on Cara Thereon.

It’s easy to say this made up holiday has no meaning, but it’s hard to ignore when others participate in it. I often contemplate how Valentine’s Day can make you feel a bit left out in love. Getting little cards in school or candies from someone who likes you. Flowers, surprise gifts, or something that means someone notices you. I never got those things.

Self-love has meant self-care to me.

Me, pre-run. I don’t feel sexy, but this is often how I look. My everyday sports bra. Winter has made maintaining fitness difficult, but I’m trying to retrain my brain to remind myself that there are dips and they are okay. My body is allowed to change, I’m allowed to eat and enjoy food. My dedication to my personal fitness will bob back up again. I just need to zen for now.

The post Just Zen appeared first on Cara Thereon.

My mind turns often to how the past influences who we are. I think too about how seeing other people’s experiences can also influence who we are.

I know a lot of girls grew up feeling like they weren’t attractive to anyone. Going through puberty and feeling like you weren’t what anyone was looking for can be tough. It’s not the plight of just one girl to know this experience, is it? I never had a boyfriend, and to be fair I wasn’t ever out-going enough to get anyone’s attention. I was invisible.

Once, in middle school on picture day, a guy in my home room asked me for my picture. I thought it was weird. He was into football and baseball, he was also not someone who I talked to or ever tried to talked to me. I gave him the picture and then saw him whispering in the corner with his friends. I let it go. But he asked me again and then another picture day after that. He never talked to me outside of that and I never knew what he did with them. It opened a strange hole in me. I wasn’t necessarily wanted, I was someone to occasionally be whispered about.

My sophomore year in college, I became an RA (resident advisor or someone who oversees a floor of students). I was sitting with the other RAs in the building as students were mulling around. One of the guys watched as a freshman walked by, practically leering. The moment she was out of ear shot, he goes “She’s a butterface. Everything is cute, but her face”. I cottoned on quick that he was super gross, but that phrase… has stuck in my mind for 16 1/2 years. It’s a phrase I’ve thought of myself more than once in the last 16 1/2 years.

I like to joke that if you’re trying to find the love of your life, date me first. I’m a good starter date/girlfriend. Good enough to hang out with… I’ve never had much luck with dating either. I didn’t feel people were attracted to me. Not me. I often suffered from the thing I joked about. Great for a few dates or a fuck, but nothing more. It’s how I’ve made it to 35 years old mostly single.

And here I am, single again.

It takes a lot to overcome those thoughts. It takes a lot to believe someone when they say they’re attracted to me. Are they really? To me? And to have to figure it all out again is more than I can handle at times. I can ask a man to spank my ass, but to get him to talk to me and find me interesting beyond that? I can’t get myself into that mindset again.

I spent time with a play partner of mine recently. It was good conversation and good sex and good aftercare. What I want and what I am trying to enjoy without emotions or strings. I do enjoy his company. I want that all the time, but I’ll be honest when I say I don’t want to go to the effort to find it. Partly, it’s me not wanting to date because it’s tedious. Partly because I don’t know how to get rid of the things I feel. To be honest, I don’t have to date and I don’t want to right now, but I’d love to get my whole self out of the jaded spot I’m in.

How do I feel beautiful? Not again, but at all?

Questions I hope to find the answers to this year.

The post Butterface appeared first on Cara Thereon.

It seems a bit early to be writing a reflection post about the year, but at the rate I’ve been writing, if I don’t do it now it won’t happen.

2019 has been a difficult year for a variety of reasons. I could talk about my personal life or my professional life or decisions I haven’t been happy about overall. It hasn’t been just one thing that’s made it a hard year. It’s a lot of stuff that’s piled on. Wouldn’t it be nice to start a year and have a clear picture of how it’ll go so you can plan accordingly? Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way. 2019 certainly hasn’t worked that way. My year started strong with things I wanted to accomplish.

Some of the things I started this year: 

A Patreon 

100 pitches. 

Aiming to publish on a larger scale.

Looking at the list, a positive is I managed to get some of those things done. I did start a Patreon and some people decided they actually wanted to read my year long story. It’s hard not to let the negative of that slip in though. I feel like I lost my direction, I feel like what I’m offering isn’t interesting enough. Doing Patreon is competitive and just being a creative who writes isn’t always enough. You’ve got to be more/better if you’re asking people to lay down their hard earned cash. I’ve had to remind myself constantly to continue plugging along, something that got hard as my personal life got a bit difficult.

I fell short on the pitches. Not quite a 3rd of the projected goal. The positive is it did help with my mindset when it comes to submitting work. Sadly, I wasn’t as aggressive about submitting things for a lot of reason, chief being the total dive my creativity took. Can’t submit stories if you aren’t writing. There were one or two things I submitted to that were accepted so all is not lost.

While I’m not published on a larger scale, I will count the last one as a win. I actually appeared in a few anthologies released this year. Smut Marathon, Lust in the Dark, Eroticon

I did a session or two at Eroticon this year so that’s something of note, yes? And even with how difficult the year was, I managed to write 111 posts. Less than normal for me, but still plugging along.

It’s just hard not to reflect and see how hard this year has been when the terrible parts outshine the bright spots. Hard not compare when others are kicking ass when it comes to monetizing their blogs, or doing awesome with their Patreons, or doing all things I’d hoped to do this year. I feel like I spent the year trying not to drop into the worst depressive episode of my life. I’ve been disconnected in pretty much every area and engaging with the community as a whole has been tough. Haven’t participated in a meme in a while and getting to other people’s blogs has been a challenge. 

*Deep Breath*

Things do need to change though. Every session with my therapist is me acknowledging my emotions instead of continuing to live under this fog that’s permeated my life of late. It’s obvious I’m stuck in this weird stasis that isn’t going to move until I make some kind of decision about what direction I need to be moving in. I’m hesitant to set any goals for next year, aside from a goal to get beyond this feeling of being stuck.

As much as I’d love for someone to manage my life for me, that’s not how this thing works. I do know I’m tired of being sad, foggy, and disengaged. Change is deciding where you are is worse than where you need to go, isn’t it? Or as the old adage goes: Piss or get off the pot. 

I guess that’s my goal then. 2020: Piss or Get Off the Pot.

The post It’s Been a Year appeared first on Cara Thereon.

I spent time with an old friend. Not that I couldn’t say no, but there was pressure from both her and her mother to stop by for months now. Without giving too much away, it was a meeting I was dreading for a variety of reasons. We no longer have things in common even though we are the same age. We’re at different stages in life with different priorities, it was awkward.

Realizing I can’t just be myself was the hardest part. She knows me as the good Christian girl who used to be involved in all things church. I’m not that person anymore and I feel like it’s a specter every time I’m home. I have friends who are fully aware of my kink life and real life, that I don’t have to hide or pretend with and it’s amazing. I’d almost rather deal with a stranger who I don’t have to pretend with then this weird space I feel I’m in with friends from home. The older I get, the harder it is to have friends who I don’t feel comfortable showing all myself to.

Why did I get together with someone I no longer feel comfortable with? Me knee jerk response is “fuck if I know.” The deeper answer is obligation. It’s an old friendship that, while not what it used to be, is still one I’ve had for a long time. It also leads to the other thought I had after the visit.

The other thing that hovered at the back of mine was how desperate for interaction she appeared to be. She’s almost a shut in, rarely leaving or involved in much beyond church. In the past, I was the one who always reached out to her, who included her in things, who made sure she was never left behind. My mother said I should try to reach out to her and invite her to things when I’m in. My response was, “I’m doing good to get up and get dressed everyday. I don’t have the energy to help someone when I’m barely helping myself.” I find it difficult to be that for someone else. It’s a lot on a good day, but lately? It’s real fucking hard.

It made me think about my obligation to others. Am I obligated to reach out? When I was younger and deeply spiritual, my answer would’ve been yes. I have a godly responsibility to bring others in to the light, to help others, to be a joy to others. Now? I’m not so sure about that answer.

This is about emotional labor, isn’t it? You want to do right by others, but not at the expense of yourself.

I sound like a dick and maybe I am. The world can’t become a better place if I’m not willing to do right by my fellow man when I can. And some days I got the spoons for it. I can make the time, donate the money, or phone the friend. But how do you help someone through their difficulty when you’re doing good to get out of the bed everyday? I know there isn’t a formula or right answer for this, and sometimes the answer is you do it anyway. I’m just being honest when I say I can’t always get my shit together well enough to do it anyway. Maybe I’m part of the problem and I own that I need to do better.

It makes me think of at what point you stop putting in the labor when it no longer does you any good to do so? I’ve ended friendships that I’ve held on to too long because they were manipulators and users. At what point is it perfectly okay to say, “neither of us is getting anything from trying to pretend our friendship is built on anything other than nostalgia”? I don’t have to hang on to everything. Letting shit go can be healthy.

Will I see her the next time I’m in after this visit? Maybe. That part of me that comes to the rescue will probably do it. I’m a helper, nurturer, the absorber of emotions. It’s what I do even when it destroys me in the process. So I’ve gotta make sure I’m doing right by me too.

The post You got a friend in me? appeared first on Cara Thereon.

The topic for this week’s Food4Thought got my mind moving a bit. I wanted to grasp on to it with both hands.

On the topic of love and the things we do for it.

The things we do for love, the things we do for love

Like walking in the rain and the snow
When there’s nowhere to go
And you’re feelin’ like a part of you is dying
And you’re looking for the answer in her eyes
You think you’re gonna break up
Then she says she wants to make up

Ooh you made me love you
Ooh you’ve got a way
Ooh you had me crawling up the wall

I’m sure someone will reference 10cc, but I can’t think about the topic without that song coming to mind.

To be honest, I don’t have much experience with love or making bad decisions because of it. I was sheltered well into my young adult years. Partly because of religious conservatism and partly because no one was every interested in me. There were no real opportunities to fall in love with someone in order to make bad choices. After that point I had some encounters where I could feel myself falling for a lover or two, but those never lasted long enough for me to do anything I regretted. Oh, I’ve slept with strangers and made a choice or two I could say I regret, but never once would I say it was a thing I did for love.

I realized though that I have a very complicated relationship with love. My family is very close. Loss has made us so. The hard thing is my nature makes me dependable to a fault and a overbearing mother can be a true complication at times.

Love has been used as a weapon against me.

“If you loved me you’d…” Many a decision I’d made or wanted to make was altered because it wasn’t what was expected. I couldn’t go to this college or do this thing. When things turned into an all out war over something I’ve done (because I’m a fucking adult/was an adult at the time), I struggled not to buckle under the manipulation. And after? “well, I only act this way because I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I’ve heard those things many times over my life with my family. Love can be manipulative. Love is done to maneuver people into the places you want them to be in. I’ve not done a lot of things I’ve wanted to because of love. Much bad behavior has been justified with I love you. I have times now well into my 30s where I don’t know if I’m making the right choice because what if it upsets someone? What emotional maelstrom where I have to navigate if it’s a choice someone doesn’t like? I love and care very deeply for my family, but there have been moments where I’ve lost total trust in love. Love asks too much and isn’t stable when you need it to be.

I’ve had good times with love. Laughter and good sex and happiness, but overall I’ve had too many moments where love has been a fucking storm. Big, angry, demanding, and “I only act this way because I love you.”

So what would I do for love that I probably shouldn’t? Sacrifice my mental health and the things I want to make others happy. All for love it seems.

The post Love Me Not appeared first on Cara Thereon.