drunken blogging

so i am pet-sitting for my family this weekend. translation: i am getting drunk on my parents' wine while the dogs bark with sandy.

i have been getting drunk a lot lately. part of it is social excursions, such as drunken yahtzee at the maple leaf (yes, a canadian bar in houston). and part of it is coping/avoidance and general escapism.

my therapy is taking a hard turn. we are beginning to deal with being raped. chances are i will be talking about it more often, as i have finally "confessed" to a few friends and have generally been thinking about it at great length.

my therapist and i are utilizing a great resource: staci haines' "the survivor's guide to sex". some of you may recall my previous mention of her dvd "healing sex" (DO NOT WATCH THE DVD IN ONE SITTING!!!!). it is a wonderful tool. so my therapist and i are reading a chapter a week. our first chapter is chapter three on dissociation.

i am a master of dissociation. not only did i dissociate when i was raped, but i had dissociated during many earlier sexual encounters and continued to dissociate through many later sexual experiences. part of this was healing. part of this was preserving and protecting myself.

later, dissociation surrendered to drunkenness. i can count on one hand the number of times i have had sex sober. yeah, i have issues. we've established this. i was drunk for not only the worst but many of the best sexual experiences of my life (including fucking dacia).

i have always had a low tolerance for alcohol. add my current dosing of antidepressants, mood stabilizers, and tranquilizers and you get a sloshed jane from two drinks and a cigarette.

so five drinks and half a pack of cigarettes later you have a drunken jane blogging to hundreds about her lack of ability to fuck sober. granted not a total lack of ability. there have been rare and tender moments completely lucid (think the tantalizing and boobalicious rachel kramer bussel). but they drown amongst the drunken times.

lately though i have made an improvement. i have stopped fucking. if i can't fuck unless i'm fucked up then i'm not fucking at all. although i'm still fucked up. how many times can i type fuck in one paragraph? anyways, i have not had sex since i left new york. this is a great and healthy choice. i'm taking care of myself and my body. doesn't mean i don't get horny and lustful. but i haven't had an intimate connection with anyone worthy of breaking celibacy.

so the inevitable outcome has two options. either i fall in love/deep like and "make love" to a lucky someone or on one of my drunken occasions, i fall in to bed with someone and have a great time. we shall see...