So after a month long blogging break. Well apart from my two #SinfulSunday post’s Your Mark and My Favourite Place oh and my SinfulStories 2 competition entry Your Turn but they don’t really count, do they?
I am back and I’m sure you are all wondering how has Charlie been? What has Charlie been up to? (You probably aren’t really wondering but I’m going to tell you anyway). It has been one hell of an emotional month and I’ve managed to squeeze it all into one post.
After over a year of writing about my lack of boyfriends and sex, I have some news for you. Don’t get too excited now. I do not have a boyfriend. That would just be silly. I have had sex though.
As I have written about in previous blog posts, sex for me over the last few years has been a bit of an enigma. I hadn’t had sex in over a year and I have grown increasingly jealous of people who are having sex, especially since I’ve started to discover more about the world of kink.
I have to say that this feeling has now decreased slightly because exactly a month ago I spent the night with a man. A man who I think is pretty incredible.
I could spend this post telling you all about the sex, how nice it was to suck his cock, how I loved seeing his head between my legs, how the bruises he left on my body made me smile every time I looked at them, how amazing it was to feel a man inside me/on top of me again.
But this post is not about sex.
Before we met up I was talking to a friend about my anxiety over meeting Him, how it was starting to outweigh my excitement and my need for new sexual experiences. She said something that stuck with me. Everest is there to be climbed.
Much like I imagine climbing Everest (ok, its probably nothing like it but go with me on this) reaching the summit is the goal but its the journey that takes you there that you will always remember, its the journey that changes you as a person, mentally and emotionally, for better or worse. That’s what this post is about.
My anxiety levels have been increasing a lot over the past year. I have written about them before. They can be triggered by any “normal everyday” situation and I’ve been trying to figure out how to help decrease them because they were starting to become a real problem.
This however was not a “normal everyday” situation, for me anyway, but I did it. I faced a fear. I overcame the intense anxiety I felt before meeting him. I missed the first train I was going to catch because these feeling became too much for me. I’m not sure if the fact that he was so bloody calm about it made me feel better or worse, I knew I was going to be in good hands though. I spoke to a friend about it and he told me to break everything down into little steps. Focus on the each of the steps one at a time and not on where the steps were eventually taking me. Getting dressed was just getting dressed, walking to the train station was just a walk to the train station.
I was so nervous on the train down there, I actually felt physically sick. My music and my book couldn’t distract me from my final destination. As soon as I arrived and was with him these feelings complete faded, just like I knew they would. Why was I even anxious in the first place?!
As usual afterwards I went through the “normal girl” thoughts we get after having sex with a guy.
Will he speak to me again?
Will he still be my friend?
More importantly, will he want to meet up with me again?
It took me over a week to get my head around it completely. Meeting a guy, essentially a stranger (I had been talking to him for quite a few months beforehand). In a big, scary city, far from home, to have sex with him is so not me. I had never done anything like it before. I overcame the intense anxiety I felt beforehand, also something I’ve never done before. I’m still slightly shocked and actually quite proud of myself that I did do it.
I’m not really sure why but the week afterwards when I was still trying to get my head around the overcoming anxiety side of it, I was a roller coaster of other emotions. My paranoia and sense of loneliness increased. Wondering if he didn’t reply to a message was it because I was so bad at the sex that he never wanted to speak to me again. He told me he had a good time so why I was even thinking this I have no idea, just my stupid brain working overtime as always.
If I had been blogging at this point I know there would have been quite a few drunk late night emotional posts that I probably would regret now that I feel differently.
Telling a friend at work about Him was probably the worst decision I made, when I told her he was just a friend and it was just sex, she kept saying to me that “you say that now but he will probably fall in love you”. I actually wanted to laugh out load at this because I know it will never happen. I’m very happy with it just being sex. However, I would be lying if I said that there isn’t a *very* small, minuscule part of me that wishes that that would happen but I think that’s just the *very* small, naive and uncynical part of me that still exists and still believes that falling in love can happen and romance isn’t completely dead.
The weekend afterwards I stayed at my mums for a few days to relax, recharge and sort my head out, which worked for a week or so.
Until I had the biggest depression crash I’ve had in a long time, it lasted for over a week. It was all triggered by something I know shouldn’t of bothered me but it did.
When I have a crash like that one, I need care, affection and more importantly reassurance. I need to be told that I’m not completely worthless as it is exactly how I feel when I’m depressed. This time I needed that from Him, sadly I didn’t receive what I wanted, instead when I did mention something to do with it to him, his response actually hurt me.
Did I tell him this? Of course I didn’t, that would of been the sensible adult thing to do, instead I dwelled on it.
“Why did I ever expect to get what I wanted/needed from him? I thought we were friends. I thought he might actually care for me, even just a little bit. He obviously doesn’t. I’m just another notch on his bedpost. I will never be anything special to anyone.”
Seriously what the fuck is wrong with me?! I had sex with the guy once, well twice but still. I pissed myself off for even thinking these things.
Again it was just my brain over thinking *way* too much.
Over thinking and internalising all these thoughts made me more depressed and made me hate myself even more.
Again if I had been blogging at this point, I believe the things I would of written would of been so cringeworthy and possibly quite damaging to all concerned. I’m still so glad I wasn’t blogging at this point.
Thankfully the dark cloud above my head has lifted, for now and I can see things clearly.
It’s strange but meeting up with him, pushing myself through the near crippling anxiety I felt. I feel kind of invincible now, like I could take on the world, take on anything that raises my anxiety levels and still be ok. I know I can do it now. My anxiety on a whole has decreased, I can actually feel it disappearing completely.
So despite the depression and all the over-thinking, which have always been problems of mine and something I definitely need help working on.
Everest was definitely worth the climb, in more ways than one.