Unwanted, undesirable, unlovely: of course I’m, going to think that, I have the full evidence before me, the longer story.
No-one has wanted to make love to me for more than three years. In fact if I add up the nights in the last decade during which I have made love…proper, full, sexual/physical/emotional love, I come to 20. And the statistics were not too good before that. I suppose, I also discovered that maybe none of those nights probably actually included love on both sides. My mistake. Trust too much.

And just to add to all these statistics it really doesn’t look good for women who become single after they are forty. Oh a lot of men get by alright. All those older men wanting younger women. Just recently I saw an article about "silver haired" actors/celebrities and how attractive and sexy they are...would I see that article about women? Women with "silver" in their hair? It’s a really crap deal. It’s downright horrible and shit.
So here she sits a dry old spinster, barren, brittle and perhaps becoming bitter.
No children, no career, no good health, no lover, no car, no home (owned), no money. You can imagine it at social gatherings where people get to know each other, can’t you?

The black egg, without the wisdom. Deep loneliness, untouched…not to be held, not to hold. A fearful ache – all this then death. Just one precious life full of nothing. Such a quiet innocent early life, in wonder at the world…but perhaps some confusion about people...

Oh I do have some close friends. And they are lovely.

In my ice block, so cold; yet not so cold that I am numb, that I don’t care, that I don’t feel.
So this is all my anger, it should be owned. It is not as suggested by someone, something not of me, not of now. One friend said my nature was sanguine; I think they were wrong in the long run. My anger at the universe/god whatever.

So not really a good deal. Who’d want to take me on now?

Perhaps my punishment for not seeking first the kingdom of god. But I DON’T KNOW HOW! It seems to be somethin that I must do, I understand that much. But not enough
Never enough.
I am never enough.

Sometimes too loud, too sudden, other times too quiet. No idea about a balanced life.

Grief grief grief

The woman and her Bear…so sad, early, early object of transference, so little physical contact, and there Bear still is, falling apart. Oh there is the dog, he likes to sitby/on me.

Cognitive behavioural therapy would have me work on the here and now and not rake over the past, but of course that is where I hold my evidence, that is what leaps up and gets me; that is what got me to here.

I have acupuncture treatment form E, but we talk a lot and he is trained in anger management. He asked me straight at one point if I had hang ups with sex, difficulties…yes he too could see the evidence in my life that would point to that: no sex and genital herpes. Well I had a case of sexual/power abuse at 20 and then an abusive sexual relationship in my mid twenties, I was aware of this and worked through it, the first one actually took a long, long time to get over. But I did get over it and the natural joy of sexual love came out…then I stopped having sex, well other people didn’t want sex with me. Oh there was that heart breaking one night in the middle of 7 years of nothing. Never let someone into your bed if they’ve been drinking. And then of course the one I loved and who angrily demanded commitment if he suspected I wasn’t giving it and felt abandoned when I was in hospital and my phone wouldn’t work…he knew I was ill, really ill. It took me awhile to realise his every touch was sexual. When he disappeared I realised it had had nothing to do with love on his part, unless some twisted version. How could I have been so stupid? At least I was angry, perhaps indignant, enough to get over it fairly quickly!!

But I have learnt, now, that given a choice between every touch being sexual and every touch not being so I know which I would choose...both together, would be lovely, but just closeness lovely too, with the right person.

Then people wonder why I don’t trust the universe. I pretend sometimes…”do everything as if for god” but when I’m angry I can’t even pretend. I hurt myself so much. Inside I am literally knotted up, not just symbolically or emotionally but physically.

There are ridiculous but paralysing angers. Thoughts of friends who have hurt me. It's dreadful to realise that you did all the going towards. greeted most warmly like a long lost friend when arriving there, but a lot of small discoveries that lead to a bewilderment then unfortunately anger. I'm not saying a deliberate ignoring...thoughtless, and it doesn't really matter does it? one can feel sad at unthinking leaving out as much as the malicious. you're still left out in the end. endless leavings out all the way that join up. I should let it all go but it doesn't seem to go. I and don't like to feel cross with other people. not at all charitable. So then I feel guilty about that...

when people start a family and others waft around and say: no one more deserving than you oh you've made such a lovely home you deserve this to complete it sort of stuff I am either angry or fall apart. What terribleness have I done that I don't deserve the loving partner, the capacity to make a physical home - I could do it. my room is made to greet guests, just that hardly anyone comes.. so I deserve my infertility, my loneliness? Guess that means I deserve my anger too.
I don't expect others to remember my grief at not ever concieving but I would hope that people deemed as sensitive and caring by others, who have witnessed my most extreme moments of grief, would remember. But you'd also think I'd be able to let that one go by.

why can't I just be lovely? why can't I be loved...in a real all encompassing intimate way? And thereby have the opportunity to GIVE the same? Why can't I love myself...accept myself? How on earth can I expect anyone else to if I can't? Or is it that I can sometimes see reflections/possibilities of self acceptance reflected from others? And just being with someone - hanging out, accepting them, helps me...

Right now I just want to be held...

The loss, the grief. I'm not coming to my senses and dealing with this. I don't see my future travelling the path I would like. I can't see how I will afford the MA I want to do. I now begin to doubt my capacity to even do it.

Work on grief in acupuncture and I go flat...but with anxiety still
Does the grief cause the anger and that is why the anger sometimes seems confused, not focussed?

What a mess, what a waste.
That's the rant, the digging about inside. Is it a good idea to get it out? Will it lift off my ribcage?
Can I ever accept myself?
Can I get over this? This finding something and having to then face not having it? And face the stupidity of not finding happiness/home/love inside of me? Feeling lonely...
And all the family photos...shall I burn them before i die?

Around me friends have children and grandchildren...I don't even have neices and nephews. Guess my family's not too bad at a future carbon footprint in it's more recent generations from my four grandparents there are 7 greatgrandchildren..... no grandchildren for my parents.

Of course I shouldn't compare myself to others...but I do.

Sad or angry? Does it matter? Is it worth expressing it?

Should I even impose it on others? Should I have said it? Does it make any difference to me or to the world...or is it just another confessional?
Think I would really like it if I could post the 3 delights of each day...I don't even take photos everyday anymore, but there are a lot stashed away insorted. enough for several a day for those viewing....

If it can make a fraction of a difference to me then yes... If....