Saturday: Today I’m grateful for feeling…

Sad after a conversation with Cubu about my mental conceptions of sexual frequency. In my mind, I track exactly how many days it has been since we last had sex. At any given time I could give you a count. I have done this since I was 14 and started having sex. When I examined it, I realized today that it had nothing to do with any desire I may have had (usually nonexistent) and everything to do with how I perceived my value in the relationship. My value has been in direct correlation to how many times I can offer my partner sexual pleasure. If it’s been four days, the anxiety is fucking crazy. I shoot for two and by three I am feeling very guilty. God forbid it gets deprioritized for five days. That’s around when my inner voice says the relationship isn’t working, they’re going to leave, I’m undesirable and not fit to be in a relationship. How horrible is that? How SAD is that? And now that I know my past, how obvious it is. My value for my dad WAS directly tied to what he could get out of me sexually. Tied to me always being willing and I can feel the terror rising in me when I think about it going a long time in between with him. He was a sex addict and I had not, until now, stopped to think about the frequency. If my theory about this lifelong timer of terror is correct, it was frequent. I feel grief grief grief but mostly, as one might guess, wrathful to no end.

Elated, high almost, after watching the University of Texas Volleyball Scrimmage today. UT has been the best collegiate volleyball team in the country for two years and the best vball player in the country is on that team as well. It was incredible to see a court fielded with a dozen women, most of them above 6’2″, slamming through a game I love playing. They were like gods. I went with Richard, the artist I used to live with. He was a volleyball player for decades then a coach for more decades. He sat next to me and explained so much of it, relating it to my team that he had watched and told me how we can improve. I even took notes on their drills, their organization. It felt more like research than a fun activity but I adored it. I think I’d be obsessed with this sport if I let myself dive into it. I’m so grateful he thought of me and invited Cubu as well. I asked if he’d informally coach me and my team and he said he had been hoping I’d ask. I’m so excited to have personalized direction so I can become the better player that I’ve always wanted to be, knew I could be. I’ll never be great, but I’m addicted to improvement.

Annoyed at someone I recruited for volleyball. He played with us during the Corporate Challenge so I invited him to be on the teams I’m putting together. It’s been days of me informing him of things that everyone else knows, which I was okay with. The team chat with updates/gametimes/etc is on Telegram and I made sure to tell him this last week. Today he hits me with “I don’t do Telegram, please inform me on this [platform].” What the fuck. I’m annoyed because I’ve done all this coordinating work to offer him a spot on a team that I think he’d like to be on. We didn’t need another person! Now I’m in the position of either sending redundant messages OR telling him that’s too damn bad. I’ll sleep on it and see how I deal with it tomorrow.

Happy, shocked, relieved, and surprised when I evaluated how I feel in relation to Cubu. I have placed every partner, past and present, on a pedestal. It’s a lifelong pattern of mine for anyone I respect. They’re up there, perfect and untouchable, and I’m down here. Even if I manage to notice flaws, it doesn’t change the balance. It’s been so toxic and many people have pointed out this pattern. Lying in bed with Cubu today, I realized he’s not on a pedestal for me anymore. I feel like we are equals standing by each other, rather than me down below worshiping and aspiring to be as great. I’m so far from a perfect person but I feel loveable exactly as I am. And I will get better as I continue on my journey. It’s been pretty surreal. All these new feelings and I feel the same but also totally different? I feel like the Ship of Theseus. The same model, the same history of concept, but all my parts are being switched out slowly for new ones. Am I the same or am I not?Wildly inspired, enthusiastic, giddy even at this idea forming in my mind. One of the Spanish-speaking ladies from yesterday told me about a Spanish school in Guatemala where you stay there for a week and are immersed in/taught Spanish the whole time. I have been on tippy toes all day thinking of it, researching it. I like the one she talked about but I figured there must be more of them out there and… THERE ARE SO MANY. The world is filled with these. I found one in Ecuador that has the same amount of Spanish lessons but includes surfing and yoga in the off-hours. Mind you, I have never taken a vacation from Cubu since we started dating. That would be a lot of time that he’d be here alone. I feel a calling in the root of my soul to do this. To say “fuck you codependency, fuck you dad. You don’t get to take any more freedoms away from me. I will live in your cage no more.” I plan to book the Spanish school tomorrow to keep me from backing out. I keep asking myself “Can I really do this?” And this new fire goddess that lives inside of me says “you can do ANYTHING.” What the hell, what alternate universe am I living in???!! It’s definitely all scary but in a good way now. There’s remnants of the old fear but it feels like it’s giving up, like it knows it can’t control me anymore. I believe in myself. I love myself. What the hell??