Woke up with the sunrise and did yoga. Felt good.
Yesterday I was so drained after M's meltdown that I slept all day. I was napping when N arrived, I sat up to eat our modest last minute Thanksgiving dinner, then passed out from exhaustion again. N napped in the other room until it was dark and I woke up to thank him before he left. Then I slept through the whole night too.
I'm not sure what triggered M this time. Drugs, alcoholism, his refusal to manage his diabetes despite doctors' pleas mayhaps...? Like R, M drank his way into ICU several times, and it wasn't enough of a wake up call for him either.
R's death was a wake up call for me, though. It's crystal clear that many men who claim to love me cannot even love themselves, let alone anyone else. All I can do is keep swerving out of their path of destruction. Perhaps he thinks he's only trying to hurt me, but I don't see it that way. If you're hurting others, you're truly hurting you.
R expected me to save him from himself too but Damn I just want to wake with the sunrise and do yoga without destructive men hurling their bodies at me, then punishing me if I take their bait. Genuinely, I don't understand their logic or behavior. They just crave attention maybe? So I throw them a bone and they come at me like the tasmanian devil. Whoa buddy, slooow down.
I orgasmed two or three times before M punished me with the silent treatment, so I shouldn't feel like he stole something from me and stomped on my heart after sex, because I got more out of it than he did, even though sex was his idea. Determined to enjoy sex for once, I wrestled my way on top this time. Maybe he couldn't handle that. I felt spiritually drained after sex. I thought to myself, should sex feel this draining? Then again sex always feels like an energy drain with men. For men it's a sublime experience. They steal a hit of my pussy's life force, and it takes a day or so before I feel 100% again, as if recovering from a small parasite. The opposite of the healing powers of the life-giving womb. Men emanate emptiness where a heart should be. Their urge to destroy rather than create baffles me, yet I tell myself nature must have created men for a reason? Surely men have some meaningful purpose on this planet beyond procreation and fighting?
Sex with men is dreadful, so I'm grateful to have a break from persuading myself it's good for me to drug myself every time M wants to use my body to get high. I made the best of it by rationalizing that oxytocin made sex worth my discomfort, but I shouldn't feel uncomfortable, and obviously a man who ignores me after sex won't get any more sex. I am 42. I don't want to date a child. I am not a therapist. I don't want to date a project. These dick salesmen have a shit product. No thanks I have ten broken ones in my junk drawer. No more solicitors please.
I want to date myself, the one doing yoga at sunrise and journaling and meditating and getting adequate rest. I want to date this beautiful long haired woman with a high IQ and hip-waist ratio that sends men to their grave when they realize they can't have me. I wanna date this lovely educated woman who arrogant men feel insecure next to. I wanna date the woman they ask for advice. I wanna date the woman who is understanding of their worst fuckups, capable of divine forgiveness (because men look like children throwing punches at the air. I smile upon them.) I want to date the woman who can't take these men seriously -- yet has the empathy to let them go gently. I want to date this incredibly resilient woman who can survive a hearty handful of misogyny and abuse, knowing it's nothing more than male self-hatred. She's amazing, brave, kind, fun, witty, and deep. I'm in love, and she's the one for me.
Maybe he intended to break me but if so, he failed. I feel the same as always, except I was able to do yoga, and I slept better without his snoring, and my morning was better without his irritability, and I don't have to clean his messes or buy his food, and I don't feel guilty -- even though the last guy dropped dead when I chose myself. I don't feel on edge or worried. Everything feels calm and peaceful. No doubt something bad will inevitably happen, another death, another man's breakdown, a manmade war. But in this moment I am free.
I feel validated in taking back my time for myself. He villainized himself enough that I have no guilt in escaping. Maybe he'll die without sex just like R. Maybe I need to let all these dead leaves drop. It is autumn after all.
7:41 a.m. - 2022-11-25