Depression finally caught up with me. If I take even one week off of gratitude lists, yoga, preparing healthy meals, etc, it all collapses back to the apparently default state of depression. Depression is a normal response to the state of things, but it makes it hard to do the simplest things, such as eat. So I need to fight it, which feels like trying to run a marathon with cement blocks tied to my legs. But if I keep trying anyway eventually I'll get enough strength to momentarily forget that I have cement blocks tied to my legs.
My walls are rattling from construction outside. Yesterday construction woke me up at 7 am after a restless nightmare-filled sleep. I could move, but I stay because I have 24 hour security and surveillance here, which I need for safety from men who enjoy showing up at my house uninvited since I'm trying NOT to be a femicide statistic. My pussy must be REALLY addictive. If only I felt the same about dicks.
I was thinking about how my sexual fantasies pretty much revolve around people not actually having sex with me or touching me. I think that's interesting, especially since I didn't used to be that way. But I've been this way for so long that it doesn't seem like a passing phase anymore either. I think it may be partly due to the fact that people have so consistently ruined the experience of sex for me that I said 'fuck it' and retreated to my imagination instead, which I find more fulfilling and physically safe. I won't find anyone better than myself to please myself.
I want my own commune which men can visit but not live in. I want to have a nice large building or small town to accommodate hundreds of women for plenty of social variety and skillsets, and plenty of time each month to be left alone when we want. We'd need to have excellent security, surveillance, and intimidating dogs to guard our little utopia from intruders, and we'd probably need to step in a lot to restrain and kick out men who try to destroy our happy home every time a woman ends a relationship with one.
This is my number one life fantasy. My other one is going back to ancient times of Goddess worship when women were treated as the sacred givers of life that we are -- instead of treated like slaves manipulated by men who very clearly have no idea what they are doing or what their purpose in the world even is.
There are a couple men I know who I think really do care and are horrified by the atrocities committed against women, if only because I won't shut up about it and they want to get in my pants. But still. I'm grateful for them and I want to believe they're sincere.
The female commune of my dreams would have healthy outlets galore, like poetry readings, jam sessions, and lots of art making. And a library! Can I make this dream a reality?!
Today I am grateful for possibilities and hope, and the imagination required to initiate good ideas.
8:13 a.m. - 2020-09-23