Recently, I joined Twitter as per my mentor's instructions.
I had no idea what I was setting myself up for, and true to form, I just jumped in without looking or thinking.
At first it seemed pretty inane...and I didn't really see the point. Very short thought bites, lots of jokes. Lots of sexual innuendo.
I immediately sought to establish myself sexually. Who here might be attracted to me? Who would validate me?
This drive coincided with my monthly temper tantrum about my sexually disinterested husband.
I see a therapist who tells me I overemphasize the importance of sex, and that he believes I am a sex addict.
The DSM doesn't recognize "sex addict" as a disorder.
I talked with a few people, men and women, on twitter, about sex. Perhaps it was flirting.
I didn't feel good about it. I worked really, really hard to not be that girl, the girl who cheats. I appreciate all the other ways my husband and I connect. But on occasion, it pains me that the man I desire more than anyone else has so little interest in me.
It's hard, as a woman, not to internalize that.
I also remembered what I'd been missing. I awakened that crave in myself, the goosebumps and the rushing blood and the excitement and the longing for touch.
My desire seemed HUGE. Disproportionate.
Like a binge.
So I didn't feel good about that, either:I thought I'd beaten that animal drive.
And concurrently, I published a couple of articles describing my very bad behavior.
Critical mass, baby.
I made an appointment with my psychiatrist. She increased my meds when I described the crying jags and the sleeping.
*that* was a fail, too.
It began to seem to me that not only was I about to crash and burn, falling back into the familiar degradation that I so habitually use against myself, but I was going to do it in front of an audience.
I've run away and started over lots of times in my life. I'm the queen of reinvention.
But once you begin to establish a public personality, that's not so easy to do.
And no one warned me not to use my real name on Twitter.
So, today I'm shaking off the grit.
Back at it, fighting the good fight. I am bigger than this, better than this. Like an alcoholic who won't let a bottle of beer run his life, I refuse to allow my vagina to dictate my actions.