TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘depression’ Category

Been awhile since I posted a “real” photo, so here’s one from the gallery I just posted for members:

Hair Pie for Thanksgiving?

You can join here if you want to see the whole set of 117 pictures. And here’s a less in-your-face preview pic:

*****

I dreamt of a crowded seniors-only trailer park vacation spot where we went to get away from it all but then we were in my grandma and grandpa’s trailer or something (note: in real life my grandpa is dead and they never lived in a trailer park). I had to pee but every bathroom I went to was full of specialty handicapped nursing home toilets with heightened elevator-seats made of yellowed plastic, and equipment like stainless steel rails, hoses, sprayers, etc. I didn’t want to sit on any of them and a frustrated old black man (I think he was sort of like my dad, who was a deeply tanned Irish in real life but not black) was chasing me (slowly, with a hobble) out of his bathroom(s) that were for him to use, not me.

I came into a bedroom with a hospital bed. My grandma was in it, sort of gyno-exam style, with two female assistants handing her implements on a tray. My old old grandma had a pair of tongs or forceps, a long piece of sinew or thick brown dental floss or something and different needles to thread it through, and a scary circle of metal she was fashioning into a clamp (diameter: between a nickel and quarter). She was in pain but focused on the task at hand which was customizing the thin metal circle to act as a cinch on her cervix to keep everything inside. One of the women held a mirror between her legs and I was horrified by how painful this procedure was going to be for my grandma who apparently had to do it every night before bed and try to sleep with a sharp metal clip digging into the tender flesh of her insides.

A cat jumped up on the bed and its tail swished against the implements. I expressed concern over this, worrying that the implements weren’t sterile and Grandma would get an infection. She brushed me off and prepared to reach into her vagina and pinch off her loosely-gaping cervix. I saw hair and blood on gauze. I protested to one of the nurses “what about rubber or silicone or something softer . . .” as the nurse just shook her head, letting me know that YES, there were alternatives to all of this daily torture but the medical community didn’t care about my grandma. They had bigger fish to fry.

Then an overweight trailer-parky lady won an opportunity to confront the HEAD of the doctors. We walked into his operating theatre where she started yelling at him about what my grandma had to endure and that he had the power to help her and stop withholding the special silicone rings.

He looked at me with utter disdain as he snapped on latex gloves and reminded me that we need to think about the soldiers on the front lines and THAT was what he cared about and how dare I be so selfish when there is a war going on. The men, the heroes, the stupid stupid women crying about their soft trivial cunts, lying in cozy beds. I couldn’t get the words out about how she couldn’t possibly sleep, the agony she was in. I wondered how he could treat us this way when she’d won the contest; how could he humiliate the winner on national television and not even LISTEN? Did this happen to all of the winners in their confrontations? Maybe it was my fault for being there with her. Maybe my presence made it null and void.

We were loud and fat and the other doctors in scrubs didn’t even look at us. I felt ashamed. Our place in the world and the futility of struggling against it was very very clear to me then. We were the cats contaminating the sterile atmosphere, endangering the lives of the heroes and progress in the war just by distracting them with our voices, needs and complaints. Stupid and selfish.

*****

Not a dream: my cousin died of cancer at the end of April and I never cared much one way or the other whether we were to kill Osama or not. But I do seem to care how and that even though I see people talking about it, I haven’t randomly seen anybody worrying about us killing his “human-shield”/wife or killing three of Qaddafi’s grandCHILDREN-under-twelve. I know this is nothing unusual, “good” guys killing kids and other civilians and apparently only the stupidest of idealistic bleeding heart peacenik liberals would question whether or not its worth it to the point where I had to google it to see whether or not I dreamed that, too, since it seems to be a matter of so little concern that I haven’t seen any mention of these murders in my social network though I HAVE seen plenty of OBL talk. It seems pretty obvious that we (as a general population) don’t consider those kids human or valuable or much of anyone to mourn. WE’RE FUCKING HEROES BLAAAAAHHHH! Do you feel safer now? I don’t. Not at all. I don’t believe anybody is safer anywhere; there is no army or bomb we can trust not to kill kids and the other people we pretend we’re helping. BUT OH MY GOD WOMEN WHO HAVE ABORTIONS SHOULD GO TO JAIL (if you google the Qaddafi grandchildren story get a load of how few stories even MENTION these kids were under twelve – not that if they were thirteen or over it would be a-okay, it’s just hilarious when the pro-”life”rs don’t seem to mind these things, but sucking out a blob of cells is MURDER)!! Fuck the world.

So I’m kind of depressed and just want to watch Star Trek, that much-ridiculed series of shows that actually has a fucking moral compass. What would Jean Luc Picard do? None of this bullshit, that’s for sure. Though the whole Robin Hood redistribution of Qaddafi’s wealth plan sounds sort of cool. Definitely a Captain Janeway kind of move.

Note: I am not writing this to change people’s minds or get in arguments or anything, I’m simply sharing my feelings with those who are curious. Because this is my blog. I understand why some people have different feelings and perspectives on this/these issues.

Also, I feel much better after sitting on this post for a day. I’ll try to post something more jolly soon, I just wanted to make a record of this nightmare.

For the past week (ever since the calm I described in my last post dissipated) I’ve felt depressed. It’s nothing to worry about . . . I know I’ll feel better sooner or later, but it’s been taking unhealthy amounts of effort for me to get through the days. Probably just a combination of things; the days getting shorter, not taking care of myself physically (not getting my B vitamin shots, eating bad shit and lots of it, not getting enough exercise), feeling overwhelmed after getting behind on things while doing those taxes, letting myself get overly hungry because of errands and appointments interrupting my routine, etc.

I also stopped taking St. John’s Wort three months ago after finding out it makes birth control/hormone therapy less effective; it’s possible that it actually was helping me and I’ll have to consider, again, that maybe I should be on anti-depressants. Not in the mood to go into the pros and cons right at this moment, though.

Anyway, I’m not posting this for advice (though I’m interested in other people’s experiences with meds, depression, etc.) or to make people feel bad for me or to make excuses; it’s just a status update for those who may be curious what’s going on with me, and because I like to record what’s going on with my mind and body. I’m not particularly worried because I’ve gotten through this and worse many times . . . I’m just feeling impatient because I want to feel better NOW! Get more done NOW! But mostly I just want to lie in bed with a grim look on on my face that uses no muscles except when I’m shoving food into it. I haven’t felt that way non-stop for the past week by any means — there’s been lots of fun and smiles and even some warm and lovely sex — but I *am* happening to feel that way right at the moment. After I get juiced back up with B vitamins I’ll feel better. I got one shot on Monday (and did feel better) and will get another this upcoming Monday. If my usual fixes don’t make me feel better I’ll try to save up some money to get some blood tests and/or see my psychiatrist.

Sorry for being so boring . . . we have camshows scheduled tomorrow and Saturday which will either make me feel massively better or not. Usually when I feel crappy I have a really REALLY hard time getting ready to cam, but almost always feel way better during and afterwards. Unless I feel like falling over dead from my scheduled group show at 4 Pacific, I’ll also be doing pay-to-play shows on Streamate. When you see me on cam please do not feel obligated to act all Mr. Sensitivo by asking if I’m still feeling mentally ill; sometimes forcing myself to smile and getting positive reactions to my boobs and making money and stuff is really really good medicine. “Fake it ’til you make it” really does work!

Lord God Almighty I hope I don’t regret posting this shit . . .

I can’t believe that the days are starting to get shorter again.

June full moon at twilight

I should be happy that the nights are getting longer and darker again because I haven’t been sleeping well at all. Part of it is that Delia in her post-operative state is having a harder time than normal sleeping, but mostly my brain and body chemistry is torqued again causing the chaos in my head to be ratcheted up too many notches. I have really loud, disturbing, repetitive thoughts and dream WAY too much. It hasn’t reached peak nightmare state (yet), and having been through this a number of times now for extended periods AND BEING ABLE TO GET BETTER/recover with no symptoms I’m not too worried, just annoyed with myself for not maintaining my health better.

I have way more pleasant things to blog about, but just thought I’d throw out a photograph and make it a quickie.

The good news is that I’ve done a lot of camming the past couple of days including some private shows which was pretty thrilling – it’s been a long time and I really enjoyed it, especially the longer one-on-ones. It’s such a relief to be able to immerse myself in someone else’s fantasy and do a totally concentrated job on satisfying one single person and know I did it well. It’s rewarding to bring people pleasure and have evidence of that in their gratitude, compliments . . . and the immediate payoff. It’s a welcome change from putting so much time and energy into promoting our sites and doing nerd work where the monetary payoff is very very detached and delayed from the investment of work and time. On the other hand, I can’t keep up with blogging and site maintenance and promos AND do a lot of camming AND stay healthy recover my health.

Here’s hoping I catch up on my sleep tonight so I can do more webwhoring this week! I’d like to be able to afford some time to spend with my family soon. I feel physical grief to my core at not having seen my nephews in MONTHS. They grow so fast and change so much, I hate missing out on all of that time and all of those changes.

Gah! Sorry this post isn’t more uplifting. If you keep up with my twitter I *think* you can tell I’m not the constantly miserable sad sack I sound like here.

If I were a weatherman describing my outlook, I’d offer up pathos-riddled contradictions.

Sky at 4:23 pm, November 3rd, 2009

I don’t know if I feel depressed today the past three days because I didn’t get enough sleep, or if I’m not getting enough sleep because I’m depressed.

I started to go into a little more detail/troubleshooting/description but deleted it because I don’t feel like hashing it out right now; it’s boring stuff, really, about too much dreaming, supplements I’ve tried, seratonin levels in weirdos, discussions with my psychiatrist, blah blah blah.

Anyway, the GOOD news is that depression reminds me how heartbreakingly beautiful music sounded to me in the eighties. Goodbye horses indeed.

No, no no . . . the REALLY GOOD NEWS is that AmberLily is coming over tomorrow. It’s the last time we’ll get to hang out with them before they move back to California, which is also good news (because that is home for them and where they most want to be) except that it means that we’ll miss them/won’t live semi-close to each other anymore. Keep your fingers crossed that we’ll all get rich someday or at least comfortable enough that we can visit each other often. Or at least pay off our credit cards and drive our beater van down the coast without worrying too much about how we’ll pay two dozen credit card bills if we break down and get stuck.

Even though it sucks that everyone’s strapped for cash these days and on the brink of losing everything, there’s something romantic about it, too. It makes everything feel more real. Shitty, but more real. That’s one of the seductive things about depression, I think, especially when you’ve had it your whole life . . . it just feels more real and like anything better would be fake. AND SO MUCH FUCKING EFFORT, with all the smiling involved.

FYI: I don’t think putting this redesign of my blog on the front page of TastyTrixie.com has been good for business. So I guess publishing this gloomy post can’t make anything much worse. But seriously, I invite you to laugh, not cry – it won’t last forever and things are not as grim as they sound, captured here like this with a black and white photo. Though I am keeping comments closed on this one. I probably just, like, ate too much sugar this week or something.

The good news: yesterday we got out into the woods to shoot a set of pictures (eventually I took this dress off):

Today I have a set of pictures to post for members of me wearing cowboy boots, which I’m looking forward to sharing.

We also have webcam shows scheduled tonight and tomorrow, as well as a members-only chat.

Now for some of the annoying news:

*One of the webcam networks disconnected our access, but don’t worry, you can still get in a couple of different ways to see Delia’s show tonight. I will alter the page to tell members how. There are, however, a number of good reasons why my approach to dealing with that problem further are complicated. Not for you to worry about, even though blogging about it would make an interesting read — I’ll have to continue to bite my tongue for a few months or years longer.

*Ever since Twitter got attacked early yesterday, I haven’t been able to tweet as TastyTrixie or SpyOnUs. Not via text/my phone, not on our main cable connection, and not on our DSL connection. For some reason, Delia’s twitter account is working just fine, though. I *am* able to post tweets through blip.fm, though. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it’s driving me insane. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve to try to get it working, but honestly – there’s a limit to how much time I can spend dealing with one fucking tribulation at a time.

*When I added more spycams, it broke some of them. The microphone on the NightVision cam (formerly known as “ballroom”) is no longer reliably working, and my alternate method of connection to that cam using a different microphone also mysteriously died even after I tried reinstalling the software and other things. I guess the only solution at this point is to buy another microphone. In the meantime, you can still hear bedroom audio (though probably not as well) on the “MoreBed” and “BedroomDesk” cam. When they’re not crapped out. Which they tend to be at inopportune times.

*****

Anyway, little problems like that drive me batshit. I hate to admit how easily frustrated I get with those little unanticipated pinches of obstacality(?), but I do, especially when I’m in the middle of feeling bogged down and incompetent with larger projects (namely redesigning, like, all of our sites and most importantly helping get DeliaTS.com off the ground; I feel like it should be easy but all these design projects are just sucking out my life force). But of course as soon as I get through them, maybe we’ll be a few steps closer to being able to HIRE people to do the parts of design we can’t/don’t want to do. At least, I pray to motherfucking god that will be the case.

I plan on enjoying a lovely and orgasmic show tonight, though, and I hope to make a new sexy show music mix to inspire me. See you there?

I remember working swing shift as one of the very best times in my life. I’d get off work between midnight and two in the morning and drive home in the dark experiencing the magic of RIGHTNESS, of everything having fallen into place and a lifelong problem being solved. That schedule didn’t make everything perfect, of course, but it was a magical gift that explained part of my life and who I am to me and let me know that things CAN fall into place. It’s one thing to complain vociferously about not being a morning person and another thing to be lucky enough to NOT HAVE TO BE. To experience yourself operating at maximum efficiency and enjoy your favorite parts of the day and night, skipping the parts that have never worked for you. To function so much better that you’ve got PROOF that this “night person” thing is real.

I’m at a point in my life where I need a new swing shift. My gears have been out of sync for years now and I keep looking for some little twinkly adjustment I can make that will fix things. I’ve given myself a bunch of tuneups and they’ve been eye-opening and helpful, but I’m desperate to feel something like the smooth, peaceful rightness of driving home on a nearly-empty freeway with the windows rolled down in the summer, smelling everything asleep and reveling in being awake, ready to go home and make a simple dinner for myself. The answer isn’t making myself work from four to midnight now, either – I don’t live alone anymore and I don’t want to; I want to go to bed WITH Delia (not a night person, so we compromise). I feel like I’ve tried everything and suspect the answer is that I need more time to be completely alone with myself, without the sounds of anybody else, without being seen or heard by anyone watching . . . just totally removed from everybody’s sounds and presence.

Last week I allowed myself the luxury of staying up all night long playing with TrixieRadio – listening to music, downloading new stuff and uploading it to the station . . . amusing myself and accomplishing something that has no monetary pay-off in the near future and is absolutely NOT what I should be spending huge blocks of time doing. But I miss listening to music. REALLY MISS IT. I am not someone who can work AND listen to music with words, so it’s not an option for me to multitask. Besides, I don’t want to. I want to do nothing but listen. NOTHING BUT. So I did, all night long, and organized my .mp3’s and made lists of cd’s I still need to rip and read about music and made a blog entry begging for money to justify doing it more. Being up all night doing that made me feel a little more like myself. And I finally bought an adaptor that provides phantom power for my months-old new microphone so I can personalize things more and potentially make more sales through the “radio” thing and podcasting. If I can figure out the perfect settings for recording with this microphone (one of those detail-oriented time-sucking tasks that annoys the shit out of me that I usually invest a couple of hours in then decide it’s not worth it / I should wait for a better time to do it / I have more important things to do).

I’ve been retreating a lot more into our guest room, off cam and alone, which has been helpful but maybe I’m still not committed enough to it to really reap the benefits of it. I feel guilty about it and still can’t get enough. I haven’t figured out how to integrate my need for solitude with work and my relationship with Delia. She’s really tolerant and understanding of my limitations in this area so it’s me that needs to work out the kinks alone along with continuing to figure out how to succeed at being my own boss. You’d think after seven years I’d be an expert, but I’m still an amateur (both at working for myself and being in a relationship). A lot of things have changed for the better in the past year but I’m still struggling to find daily “rightness”. I get glimmers of it, but very inconsistently; for everything I resolve to do better, something else falls by the wayside. It’s like there’s a never-ending rotation of things I do well and things I fuck up — every day, every week, every month, every quarter, every year the same fucking challenges just trade places with each other. I make progress but only temporarily before regressing. I feel like I haven’t CONQUERED anything in years and I’m pretty fucking sick of it. I try to be patient with myself, recognizing I’ve had some really fucked-up health problems and am still fine-tuning “curing” myself. Recognizing the economy sucks so it’s not entirely my fault that we’re on this debt merry-go-round.

The shitty thing is that having a positive attitude means feeling empowered and taking responsibility to fix stuff — believing it’s POSSIBLE to make things better; I’m just really really REALLY tired of the burden. Sometimes I just wish I could drive home and let my boss figure it out in the morning and tell me what to do when I go to work and know that it’s not my fault if that was the wrong thing. Part of me loves how I’ve complicated my life and that I *don’t* have a boss, but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST sometimes I miss having things be simple. I miss having someone else to blame. I miss not really caring about my job. That used to make me feel trapped, having to go to work for a certain number of hours and not doing anything even remotely creative. Now? I feel trapped because I *do* care about my job(s). Because it’s rare that I get to establish a rhythm doing something simple for 6-8 hours. I can’t quit because I love my work, but I have no idea when (if ever) I’ll be able to do my job BETTER and not just feel like I’m running on a treadmill. A treadmill that lurches and changes speeds unpredictably and is just like . . . possessed with multiple personalities. There’s no water-cooler where I can stand around bitching about my boss and how if I ran things I’d do them differently/better. I mean, I can do that, but it’s not really good for my self-esteem. I am my own worst boss/enemy and I’m so. TIRED of it.

I keep slogging along, promising myself that if we just get rid of our debt we’ll be able to AFFORD to establish some rhythms and magic swing shifts but right now we seriously do not have the money to do anything efficiently. Not shooting, not marketing, not exercising . . . not even fucking GROCERY shopping. Every day is a schizo fucking mess and I’m just so sleeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. Not as bad as I was before, but still . . . some days are pretty bad while I’m fine tuning different birth control pills, supplements, figuring out just how much fucking with my blood sugar I can get away with, etc.

Fuck it. I am going to order a pizza.

Sorry for the downer of a post. Things are good, I just needed to whine a little bit.

A quick announcement for members and fans of our webcam shows: I moved Wednesday night’s shows to Friday night. Why? Because I realized they were scheduled at the same time as the American Idol finale and with us on the west coast there could be people in our chatrooms who’d already watched it and I CANNOT ABIDE HEARING SPOILERS.

This is especially true with tv the past two or three months which has been exceptionally good to my fat American mind. Dollhouse, Gossip Girl, Top Model, Idol, Hell’s Kitchen . . . I’ve been eating the cheese and acting like a sucker tearing up on command. The competition shows are so much better when you like all of the finalists. We might not be having a lot of sex, but who wants to watch us fucking on our spycams when you can watch me crying and squealing like a sissy-girl over CHUCK AND BLAIR and ADAM AND KRIS and ALLISON AND TEYONA!?! It’s a more degrading scene than if I invited a gang of carnies over and gave their greasy unwashed asses enthusiastic rim jobs on cam with a needle half-full of junk sticking out of my arm. Now THAT’S entertainment! Oh Chuck those pink flowers and your green coat Blair and that dress and I worship and adore you and your stockings too yumyumyum I love it when you cry you’re so beautiful when you weep and I love you TOOOOOO!

As if that wasn’t enough, as a bonus for our voyeurs tonight I also cried watching Dolly Parton sing “Backroads Barbie” AND I cried earlier this afternoon when I finished reading The Westing Game (how did I miss that as a youngster? IT ROCKS!).

Being on a higher-estrogen birth control pill is so sweeeeeeeeeeeet. Sweet and salty with my tears, like a big bag of kettle korn.

Other than that I’m working on a simple (but time-consuming) revamp of the free area of TastyTrixie.com. So I can maybe hope to, you know, make some sales. So far this year has been full of optimism because I finally figured out how fucked up my endocrine system has been and how sick I was. It’s frustrating, though, that even though I feel way better, my life didn’t instantly become perfect once I started feeling better physically. It’s like I have years worth of old work to do to get caught up let alone move forward. That’s been pretty depressing on top of the economy (I know many of you are feeling my pain or worse in that department). I’m constantly making steps to improve, though, and feel massively blessed to have the awesomest girlfriend in the world and also feel the support of people who know me online, especially our members.

I still have a long way to go, but I am becoming a more patient person. More patient with myself and the world and everyone in it. You still wouldn’t call me “patient”, but I know I am MORE patient than I was a year ago. That’s enough for me to be proud of today.

And even with all of that reading and tv watching and a good stretch this morning, I still worked eight concentrated hours and twenty-seven minutes. How do I know that? BECAUSE I AM KEEPING TRACK.

Let me toss some tgirl-on-tgirl porn at you before I get all personal and diary-ish(click for free pics & sample vid):

This is my favorite photo in the samples and in general that whole shoot was really hot to watch, plus I love that the resulting porn is both explicit and very sensual. I need to work on my skills as a photographer shooting people other than Delia, though. With Mandy and AmberLily I didn’t do a good job of stopping them and asking them to hold “poses”, so as a result there were lots of blurry and awkward shots — good ones, too, but could’ve been better. We’re still getting used to our new camera which is FAST, but since we don’t shoot with a flash or a lot of light we still have to MODEL semi-slowly even though it’s tempting when you hear the shutter flying along to dance fluidly along.

*****

Life is good — there are lots of things going on with me which are mostly connected with making a concerted effort to have LESS things going on and focus on a few high priority things. Right now my personal priorities are:

-exercising consistently (today will be five days in a row)
-eating less sugar and starches
-going to twelve step meetings & getting healthier emotionally and spiritually
-cutting back on a few things to make room for a) making money more efficiently and b) doing more things that I love

The past couple of years my body has become more and more of a challenge for me to feel good about, mostly because I never got into the habit of taking care of it except for getting enough sleep. With the added pressure (and wake-up-calls) of trying to get pregnant but not being able to, it’s gotten to the point where I feel really shitty with a litany of symptoms and complaints and hypochondriac fantasies. Long story short, I need to put myself and my health first before everything (and everybody) else.

A lot of times I sacrifice my own needs and desires to work which really is stupid because I can’t *do* this kind of work very well when my body feels like shit and I don’t provide myself with pleasure on all levels. I can barely stand to look at myself which is, ummm, pretty counterproductive for shooting porn (and editing/posting/selling it myself where I have to look at myself and love myself to do a good job). It’s not that everything looks shitty, but seriously — it’s not only difficult for me to bend over to tie my shoes these days, it’s PHYSICALLY PAINFUL. My guts fucking hurt.

Before people rush to simple judgments like, “duh! That’s what happens when you sit on your ass all day”, etc. let me offer a little perspective and extend some leniency to myself; there are definitely some hormonal problems contributing to my issues (all of the thyroid / infertility / depression / migraine / too-much-testosterone stuff and more all connected in a which-came-first/chicken-egg circle of insanity) plus the stuff we’ve been going through with alcoholism that no one has really been aware of or how it’s been effecting us; *I* haven’t even been aware of how much of my energy was going into trying to cope with it.

One of the unexpected bonuses of Delia getting sober is that I got to enter recovery too. Only I totally didn’t anticipate how hard it would be or that I would totally fucking freak out (which I did, surprisingly, really fall-the-fuck apart the first month and couldn’t really understand why when I thought I would just feel relieved and everything would be bliss and perfection). Now that Delia is sober and I’m not constantly thinking about her and trying to control her drinking, I’m left with the way bigger, scarier challenge and problem of mySELF and my own fucked-upedness. Patterns of behavior and sickness that I had before Delia and I ever even met.

I feel really optimistic, excited and fortunate right now, but I also feel like I need a lot of space and time and patience to get healthy in more ways than one. It takes more than a week or a month or three months or a year to feel relief, to figure out what to change (and what IS changing whether you want it to or not), to adapt, and to grow into new ways of doing things. I’m kind of tired and have a lot of stuff to process and let go of so just mending my body, our relationship and going to meetings right now is enough to keep me very occupied. I’d say that I’m sorry I don’t have more left over to spread around and to keep doing all the things I was trying to do, but I’m not sorry. I’m happy to be focused on what’s important.

Note: I’m leaving comments open for people who want to remark on the Delia & Mandy shoot or those who have their own personal sharing/relating on the subjects I talked about, but I usually do not feel helped by comments containing unsolicited advice, analysis of me/us/our lives and/or criticism even when I know they’re well-intentioned.