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Archive for the ‘drugs’ Category

Nico is getting senile. We think her vision and hearing have both become impaired. The good part is she seems in good spirits most of the time. I guess it’s both fortunate and unfortunate that she wants to go in and out of the house about fifty times a day and has taken to WHINING and barking madly if we don’t comply with these requests. You think fifty is an exaggeration? Okay, at least twenty-five times a day. AT LEAST. It’s insane.

Sometimes I do lose my patience with her and feel so frustrated not knowing if it’s our fault for giving in to her or if she has genuine need (or perceived need) to go outside so often. This morning after she woke Delia up WAY too early to let her out and back in she then ate and pooped on the floor. She never does that (poops inside). I think she’s just totally confused and can’t get comfortable so she paces around. Then when she goes outside her rope gets hung up on rocks or stiff tufts of grass and for some reason she can’t pull free of those tiny hangups anymore and just starts going apeshit for  us to come out and rescue her.

Lately she can’t find the doors she wants and we’ll see her in the bedroom waiting at the closet door or the bathroom door (this makes no sense). Last night she was stumbling around in the dark doing god only knows what. This makes me wonder if it’s not really a vision problem, but something else; if it were her vision, wouldn’t she still have the layout of the house memorized?

So I asked Delia, “do dogs get Alzheimer’s?”

Delia’s response: “no, but they do get Barkinson’s.”

*****

In other mundane, un-sexy news of real life, we had to take one of our beater cars to the shop today. It is going to cost over $900 to fix it. We can’t afford it, but the main reason I felt compelled to go ahead with the repairs is that we’ve been really lucky with our vehicles for the past couple of years (aside from getting pulled over for having a stolen car, but that’s a totally different story) so I felt like it was time to pay tribute to the gods of car or whatever. We got this car for free and it should continue running reliably after this so . . . yeah. Goodbye, thousand dollars. Or rather, “hello, maxed out credit card that I was trying to clear room on to pay taxes”.

I also found out my mom went to the hospital last night. She’s (relatively) fine — it was an anxiety attack. One of those things we know is a serious problem for her but that she is in denial about. The only treatment she’s ever had for it was years ago when her way of describing the problem was that she had trouble sleeping. So our pill-happy family doc/gp prescribed her Xanax. Which she became addicted to.

Fortunately she kicked that addiction all on her own. Unfortunately, she has never talked much about that and never did anything else that I know of to deal with her problems that she doesn’t really acknowledge. It’s not that my mom is reluctant to talk, or to talk about problems, but getting to the root of matters and deciding to make really important changes that start with herself? Not so much. Instead she’ll be like, “if I could just catch my breath for a couple of days and get that goddamned garage cleaned out it would help so much!”

How do you get a woman to realize that her problems go ever so much deeper than A FUCKING GARAGE? You can try, but it’s extremely ineffective.

So last night at the hospital she was prescribed Ativan. An anti-anxiety med that’s even MORE addictive than Xanax! And the doctor flat-out lied to her about what it was. He said it was a muscle relaxer she should take when she’s feeling dizzy.

Someone tell me again why pot and prostitution are illegal. I think someone misfiled RATIONAL THOUGHT in this country.

Anyway, I have a billion related and unrelated thoughts on this stuff and life in general and my direction in life and wants and desires and loves and blessings, small and large, and ways I’ve been ministered to online and off in beautiful ways and inspirations and insecurities and religion and porn and coming out and staying in and spycam projects and activism and writing and music and dancing BUT there are so many awesome books and six feet of girlfriend to go to bed with that I’ll leave it at that.

I hoped I’d have lots of sex when I went to college, but I totally didn’t except with myself, like in this confession I posted for my members about masturbating in the library:

I tried to get on the study track and stared at the pages of “The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire”, trying to concentrate. I got out my lecture notes and tried to focus on what Redding had emphasized, but all I could think about was how much he turned me on and how naughty I was to spend those hours in his classroom fantasizing about his sexual presence instead of ruminating on his intellectual offerings.

I was alone in the corridor of library desks. Everything was quiet. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on the desk then placed my open western civ book in my lap with the base of the book’s spine resting firm and heavy on my pussy. The thin material of my stretch pants made it easy for me to feel this pressure pushing against my clit.

Maybe that’s part of why I’m not turned on by sites like DareDorm – it wasn’t part of my experience. More than that, though, I never wanted THAT kind of drunken sex to be part of my life.

Stupid asshole college jocks.

Those are exactly the kinds of tan, stupid people and scenes I wanted to avoid when I went to a private university and as a woman I have a hard time being comfortable looking at those kinds of scenarios even if they’re staged.  On the other hand, I do understand why OTHER people, particularly guys, enjoy jacking off to that kind of porn — ESPECIALLY nerdy guys like myself (but with penises) who never got invited to parties like that or if they were, were always on the sidelines just watching.

Not that I never EVER got drunk and had sexy-time in college — those instances were few and far between, but they did happen and I’ve shared a few of those stories with members, like in this story where I got kicked out of a bar for getting too hot and heavy with a Fort Lewis soldier and this story of botched alcohol-doused sex in my Nissan Sentra with campus security cruising by and this story about a drug-dealer who loved getting his whole face wet with my pussy juices. Honestly though, those were (almost) the only times I did things like that! All of the tan and sporty partiers at my school lived on LOWER campus, while I belonged to the pale and nerdy upper campus crowd.

Anyway, if you’re not a member and you want to read those stories JOIN HERE -or- if you really just want to immerse yourself in the debauchery of hardcore, porntastic, wannabe-amateur porn then join DAREDORM.

Note: if you join DareDorm or RealityKings today after clicking my links I’ll get a mega-awesome bonus. RealityKings gives you access to a whole bunch of awesome, tried-and-true sites like Big Naturals, Mike’s Apartment, Monster Curves, etc. I’ll also get a bonus if you join on another day, it just won’t be QUITE so luscious. Thanks!

After having the worst sales day on Sunday I’ve ever seen, I changed our Directv package to the cheapest one (that’s still not “cheap”, but anyway). I also scaled back our Netflix from five discs out to three and got excited about a return to listening to This American Life and music more often. And maybe having the attention span to watch entire movies again — something we’ve all but lost in the past couple of years of television immersion.

Some of the cable shows we love best are The First 48, Cold Case Files, Mad Men (swoon), Deadliest Catch, and Intervention — apparently we aren’t alone in being addicted to that show because I got a bunch of tweets in response to my announcement yesterday from people who couldn’t stand to give up Intervention.

I first started watching Intervention alone and totally felt guilty and ashamed watching it, like only a sicko would watch an hour of a stranger’s family’s most private, horrifyingly personal, lowdown moments. I’d record them on our DVR and wait to watch them alone until once when my sister was over she saw it in the list of shows and was like, “oooh! Let’s watch Intervention!!” The concept of all of us watching the show together embarrassed me, like it’s something you should only watch in private (which of course isn’t true).

It’s not that I think the show is bad — I think it’s awesome, and since then Delia and I have watched it together many times — it’s just really intense and weird. I do think it’s informative (I love that they focus on all kinds of addictions and sicknesses from gambling to OCD to Diabetes to eating disorders) and helps build empathy, but it still feels wrong to watch it for entertainment. But we do, I guess. One person tweeted to me that she thinks that show is depressing with a capital “D”. And it’s true, that’s the embarrassing part — why would we watch something totally depressing for FUN? I guess there are a million awkward answers to that question.

*****

One of the first Interventions I watched was repeated last night and pissed me off in a giant way. The family seemed more concerned with Cristy’s stripping than with her drug use, like the STRIPPING was THE sign she was way out of control (and what a great marketing hook, too!). Whenever I see that crap it disturbs the fuck out of me the way people alienate someone who already feels totally isolated and judged by being TOTALLY FUCKING STUPID about sex work. I’m not saying that the sick women on Intervention would choose sex work if they weren’t in desperate situations, I’m just saying that their friends and families are usually so fucking retardedly focused on that part of it that they contribute to the problem and I’ve never seen that addressed in any healthy way on the show (though some of the families seem to have it in a more rational perspective).

It reminds me of a story I saw about a missing woman, maybe on America’s Most Wanted, told mostly from the perspective of her “loving” parents who OVER and OVER said they knew she would NEVER have become a prostitute in Las Vegas of her own volition and that her evil boyfriend HAD to have MADE her do it and caused her to disappear. They said stupid shit over and over again about how they knew their darling daughter would never have chosen this life for herself and how badly they wanted her back so she could be her old innocent self again. Of course she was probably dead so it probably doesn’t matter, but all I could think is that if this woman WAS alive and in a bad situation and saw her parents saying that shit, she’d probably rather whither up and accept her current lot than think she could ever live near them and their unaccepting ignorance again. People are so hyperfocused on how degrading they believe sex work always is that they can’t fucking think straight, like these parents who seemed unable to recognize that their daughter willingly chose this boyfriend AND sex work in Vegas, and that the real sad and scary thing was that someone — possibly the boyfriend — probably killed her for it. Instead they went on tv, rejected her choices (that probably came from wanting to get away from their moronic idealized perception of her) and shat all over her.

This is why I need to stop watching TV. Because this crap HAUNTS me! And I haven’t even said anything about the MOST DISTURBING episodes of Intervention and America’s Most Wanted! Gah!

Do they have Intervention on DVD?

No!! I need a break!! NO MORE INTERVENTION!!!!

PS – Ken is totally our favorite interventionist.

Yesterday we did a bunch of housecleaning with special attention on two of our most important rooms: our bedroom and the parlor where we do all of our indoor-exercising and sun-catching. After a week of smelling not-so-fresh places (the thrift stores, our van, the smokey-smelling motel room with the “no smoking” sign) it feels so good to be able to walk through our house and have it smell like lavender and other fresh things.

All I want to do is walk around in our house, picking stuff up, folding laundry, stretching, lighting candles, and daydreaming. That’s not all I *have* done, but that’s how I feel. Like right now I want to take a small container of polished rocks into bed and just pass them back and forth with Delia, inspecting their colors and feeling their contours, holding them up to lamplight, listening to dorky new age music.

I feel great. Maybe it’s the four anti-inflammatories I took for my period cramps today. I don’t know. But it’s pretty fucking rad. Maybe it was the sunshine we had the past couple of days and the exercise we got with it shining on us. Maybe it was being able to get work done even while I had to spend time on hold with the phone company. Maybe it’s all of the clarifying and focusing I’ve been doing lately.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think maybe I’d been hitting one of these sweet pussy pipes too hard. Or not. Since 40% of the few times I’ve smoked it’s given me major anxiety attacks. Yes, few enough that I could count each of them and calculate the percentage. And right now I feel nothing but peace.

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.

While I let bigger (and possibly better) blog entries stew, here are a couple of images that might fall into the “bigger” and “better” categories:

In my last post I mentioned experiencing some bumpy emotions as I struggled to adjust my priorities and let go and cut back, at least temporarily, some stuff; in the days since that post I’ve emotionally adjusted, too. I now feel very content and optimistic about my new focus and happy to release myself of certain self-imposed obligations.

I’m being annoyingly vague, I know, but I just want to share that I feel happy and hopeful about my person(al life), relationships, business . . . where I’m/we’re at and where I’m/we’re going. It feels boringly repetitive to blog about them (“hasn’t Trixie said this a million times in the past seven years?”), but periodic realignments are necessary in life; sometimes the adjustment process is stressfully turbulent (even when the changes are positive, like when the person you love stops drinking or when you’re forced to recognize — AGAIN — that you aren’t superhuman after forgetting since the LAST time you were faced with that conclusion) but once you get used to it a whole new field of possibilities emerges and there’s . . . relief. And joy. And after some rest? New good things. More awesome. Progress made. Love shared. Delicious sappiness.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that things are good here!

I’m betting people are curious how my psychiatrist appointment went, so here’s a post that’s JUST about that:

It was a relief to see him; I was amazed how much he remembered after more than five years, and that was without even having the benefit of reviewing my old records since he moves them from his office to his garage if inactive and older than five years.

Hmmm . . . now that I’m trying to write this I’m not sure how much of it I feel like sharing, not because any of it was bad or even that personal, it’s just the kind of thing that requires a lot of context and background information to be accurate and I know people have a tendency to be judgmental about prescription drugs, people who are diagnosed with new labels, etc. On the other hand, I know that for every person who reads this stuff and thinks, “what a crock of shit/loony bird/lazy, oversensitive drug-seeker” there’s another person who can relate.

Long story short, I’m really glad I went. It’s always so cool to have positive, meaningful experiences with health care professionals where you are helped in a way that also makes you feel respected, empowered and cared for by people who are extremely knowledgeable and gifted. I wish everybody could afford to get the care they need from people who deliver it at such a high and loving level.

Aside from the intangible benefits of going, I came away with my generic 10 mg Ritalin prescription and an assortment of other samples and scripts to try since I live too far away to come often (four hour round trip), my insurance isn’t paying for it so it’s too expensive for me to come often, and I said I can’t afford to try anything new after my bad experiences with Adderall (it made me feel really depressed and hopeless) I’m reluctant to stray from what I know works for me.

I’ve only filled the prescription for the Ritalin, but also have Focalin, Concerta and Vyvanse sample scripts. For a couple of weeks I’m just going to enjoy my old standby, though. I took some last night before I went to sleep (yes, I know that’s contraindicated but it often *helps* me get more relaxed, satisfying sleep) and it was just a huge fucking relief.

Another big relief is that he gave me a sample kit for Lamictal (a mood stabilizer). I don’t feel like getting into a discussion at the moment about whether or not I’m bipolar, but either way it sounds like a safe drug (even if you’re trying to get pregnant or are pregnant) that’s worth trying. I’m not sure whether or not I *will* try it, but I can’t describe what a huge relief it is to have it here and to know that if things get any worse I have something that will probably make it better. I’m going to wait and see if I continue to have dramatically fucked-up mood swings (example: getting one of my “brilliant ideas” and getting so worked-up/hyper-enthusiastic/crazily-driven that I’m pacing uncontrollably for a few hours then plummet into a state of horrifying self-loathing and hopeless depression lasting twice as long as the crazy-high; apparently “they” are expanding how they diagnose bipolar disorder so it’s not just limited to people who cycle slowly from one extreme to the other). I’m still going to see an endocrinologist to find out if there’s a hormonal problem fucking with my head, and I know lack of exercise and stress are other big factors that can make people crazy but sometimes meds can work miracles, even if you just try them to learn how it feels to be different or are reminded that things can be better.

I just have to say HUGE RELIEF again. That’s what it is. To know you have options and boosts. To know that if things get worse there is help to be had (and that things don’t HAVE to get worse before you seek it out).