Hyper-sexuality 2
Further contemplation of the new awareness has grown the belief that my hyper-sexuality really has crept to the opposite extreme. I can still talk about sex with theraputed ease, as long as it remains clinical. Over-all, my aversion to touch has grown nearly as extreme as my peer support friends who are trying to ban all things sexy from their lives.
My therapy breakthroughs on my sexual rage (the "rage" isnae an exaggeration) happened in the early/mid 90's in my VA bi-polar therapy. The nurse practitioner (H) who was my longest running counselor there facilitated a workshop for women veterans. Girl howdy, there was allot of sexual rage in that group. Most of us (including me) carried our sexual rage into military service with us. One of the amazing tidbits within this phase of my therapy is that I even remember the name of the facilitator. The rest of the pros in my therapy portfolio are still noodles in my alphabet soup. Qualified somebody or something or other. . . Strictly nothing personal.
The sexual rage within this group had the full spectrum of possible reactions, from the female serial rapist (me) to the mega-prude who didn't spread their legs ever for anybody. The group consciousness agreed that our OB/GYNs deserved medals of valor for their courage in placing their heads so close to our feet. . . Sorry 'bout that, Doc. The flashbacks made me do it. . . A few of us even liked the idea of being an "It" with no gender identity, what-so-ever. I have better uses of my brain space than choosing a side in the Battle of the Sexes. Both sides look equally repulsive.
I still don't much trust my memory, but I do believe H is the one who introduced the notion that mega-slut and mega-prude were the two extremes of the hyper-sexuality spectrum. Still chewing, but think I'll indulge in some cyber-stalking and find out what H is doing here in the 21st century.
My reactions to Persilly's doggy crotch sniffing have softened since this chew began. Am I imagining it when I think her aggressive pursuit has softened as well?
Replies
It's a LOT easier to see everything in the room, if you're standing in the corner. Even if the room is just a metaphysical one.
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Hugs
i have no wisdom to offer on this one so I'll drop off a boat load of triple hugs ~
Hugs appreciated.
Still chewing, but I believe this little weird belongs with the strictly personal psychosis I have dubbed, "The Dumb Broad Show." The voices in that puppet show have been especially loud lately.
QUIET ON THE SET!!!!!
I've noticed a change in me as to this topic as I've grown older. In my twenties I was at the other end of the spectrum for a while, but now in the fifties I'm at the end I supposed is identified by the "a" in the acronym "LGBTQA" etc.
http://www.rolereboot.org/sex-and-relationships/details/2012-06-what-do-all-those-letters-mean-anyway-defining-lgbtq
That link explains the letters, and that the "a" can stand for "androgynous" (not me so much, what with my Santa Claus beard and all) or the "a" can stand for "asexual." Hmmm.
That seems to be me this decade of my fifties, and thankfully if so then including me in that list means it's not something to change about me. It's been 7 years now since I've had a date, and I don't foresee any on the horizon. Yet, in some ways, these 7 years have been the most fulfilling of my life. I wouldn't ever have believed so if you'd spoken to the twenty-five year old Muji.
I don't know if this is an "a" identity for me forever, or if it's just a passing stage in life for me for the decade of my fifties. But I thank you for bringing up that we can go from one extreme to another, because it made it safe for me to speak up and say that I have. I don't hold myself up as a role model in doing so, either, I'm just speaking for me. Thanks, though, for speaking for you, too. As you said, "still chewing." But I know I'm not alone--my gratitude to you for that, arfie.
I still find my eyes glazing over at the sex club dialogs. When it was just "LBG," it always made me hungry for a BLT. Hope you get it all figured, guys. My tummy's calling. It has grown less appetizing with each letter added. But. . . I find myself with a growing dislike for acronyms of any class. Less alphabet soup, please. Please keep me off the mailing list.
"Androgynous" and "Asexual" were the popular choices in that Women Veteran's Support Group. It was the 90's, after all. I had been using androgynous to describe myself since a Junior High School English teacher introduced me to the word. Asexual sounds too much like a single celled organism.
These days I prefer "celibate." It would have been far from accurate in my days of androgyny, but it feels apropos now. That aging scar tissues have added certain challenges, but I'm mostly capable and respectful of the place sex holds in the natural order, but. . . Eh. . . Been there. Done that. Next?
H finished more degrees and has accumulated quite an acronym string behind her name. She left the VA but is still practicing in Austin. I am far from certain, but I think she might be practicing with the psychiatrist who supervised my med therapy. That doc is still a noodle in the alphabet soup.
I still can't seem to circumvent my heebeegeebees over that term, "Practicing." Go practice on somebody else, moron!