Connecting the Disconnects

Some entries ago I mentioned the significance of friendster.com connections. The same significance would tie into the photographs pinned on the cube wall in front of me. In the months after Randy and I ended and before I started on anti-depressants I withdrew from everyone. I felt little to no connections with them. Since May, I've not been as withdrawn, but the meaningful connections with people have felt scarce. I thought if I could physically "SEE" the people I would be more apt to actually feel something. Sometimes this works. On friendster.com it goes one step further to actually show a string of connections.

But just because I can show a connection doesn't mean that I feel it. I'm related by blood to my family, but sometimes they're more distant than anyone in my life. It's painful to have connections erased, removed, shifted. When they fade or disappear, I feel that. The parts of me that feel that loss then thicken like calloused skin. Eventually, there is nothing left to feel because I have "saved" or prevented myself from feeling bad at all. But this creates its own pain....the pain of having no one--or at least feeling such.

In the past couple weeks I've opened doors to the past that I closed because it was right to do so at the time. In feeling the warmth toward these people I know that it's just me fishing for feeling at all. Yes, true I do have those feelings, but simply having them does not warrant overriding the intellectual part of me that knows why I keep the feelings at bay. To love is not enough. (Even if in my heart I wish it were.)

Last night we had another Bravo Tuesday. It was fun to me when it first started, but I was happy to see most of the people go last night. To be honest, I think part of it had to do with that it was a nice time to share with Ryan and I've lost that. Yet another example of my head knowing what is right and my heart not letting go.

Chuck bruised my right forearm. It looks bad, but there's no pain around it. I spent Sunday, Monday & Tuesday at the beach. I baked in the gray skies. We can comfort each other and point out flaws but we seem not to have any middle ground. Two broken pieces do not make something whole.

Nathan came down for the weekend. Friday night we were out in West Hollywood and it was nice to enjoy the time with him. Saturday Night was an impromptu trip to the Cher concert. Haha...I must be gay if the first concert I went to in high school was Kenny G and the 2nd concert was over 10 years later for Cher. I enjoyed the lawn seating at the pavilion. Lesbian Land. We never knew she had such a following. When the concert was over, we had seen "Dan" from Bravo's "Boy Meets Boy," drank way too much Smirnoff Ice and danced in the dirt-field parking to Art's best CD. A completely fun night for me. Now that Nathan has gone back home, I'm adjusting again.

Yesterday (Wednesday) I started 100mg of Zoloft. I was supposed to have been up to this level a couple weeks ago, but I maintained at 75mg for a bit longer to allow my body time to adjust. Here's a thought... I haven't partied since March. Six months now. This is the longest period of time that I've abstained since starting four years ago. The party scene I became tired with for sure. I'd have to say that the desire to reach the deep place of seeing inside myself has been a feeling that I've wanted to satiate a few times in the last several months. I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that I simply can't and it would be a waste of money or if I just don't want it that I haven't. On the anti-depressants, there are moments when I feel like I felt on E the day after or after the peak when yawning or clenching my jaw. Nowhere near as strong, but similar. No big surprise seeing as each drug is acting upon the same area of the brain.

This turned out to be a much longer entry than I thought it would. I never know what I'm going to say. Sometimes I feel like there's a lot to let out and only a few sentences get out. Today, it was just the opposite.

I still feel very disconnected.