May 5, 2010

May 5, 2010

The dueling piano bar experience fascinates me. It seems to combine things I absolutely love, as well as things that terrify me.

[References posts.]

I love music so much. I like to make people laugh and have a good time. I also enjoy singing. There is a part of me that likes to entertain, as well.

On the other hand, it is uncomfortable to move out of the familiar role of being invisible, unnoticed, and unloved. The recognition I have gotten in the past is either to have my mistakes pointed out, or to be mocked or made fun of. So I fear those things. If I can get past my fears, then I could potentially enjoy doing something I really love.


Sammie, the piano guy, gives me friendly hugs. It is potentially a dangerous area for me. I’ve shown signs of love addiction, in the past. Sometimes I catch myself fantasizing a longer hug—like being affectionately held—or fantasize even 1-2 seconds of sex. I immediately stop the image, the very moment it enters my brain.

It feels good to have human touch, but I feel guilty or ashamed to be receiving it, as though I don’t deserve it. D I still hold the belief that I’m unlovable? Unworthy? Undeserving of attention or affectionate touch? Only to be used as a sex object?

I’ve been pushing really hard to think of Sammie as a brother, because siblings generally wouldn’t be attracted to each other. I feel ashamed to have these feelings towards him—he’s like a mentor figure, so kind, friendly, encouraging. I don’t want to fuck anything up.

I fear making a mistake and that one mistake would be the end of the world. Besides, he is married and therefore off-limits. I’m sick of being so attracted to any guy who gives me the smallest bit of attention.

I still feel amazed if someone wants to be my friend.


“What’s a knockout like you doing in a computer-generated gin joint like this?”
—Commander Riker, Star Trek: TNG


  • Letter to sexual abusers
  • Letter to inner child
  • Fairy tale story in 3rd person (about abuse) with a hopeful ending
  • Letter to former partners (ex-husband, last ex-boyfriend) and how the childhood trauma affected the relationship

Written for me, as a way to express my feelings. Not to be sent to anyone.


How many generations have abused their children, in my parents’ families? I like to think that I’m breaking the cycle, now.


I feel like the only times I was ever noticed was to point out a mistake I’ve made or to make fun of me. So I shy away when someone notices me.

Sunday night, one of the piano players pointed out (to the small crowd) that I’d been there for the past 4 nights. I know he meant well, and probably did not mean to insult me at all, but I still felt embarrassed for being recognized. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, so Monday and Tuesday, I didn’t go there, for fear of being noticed and called a “loser.” [Note: He didn’t actually call me a loser. I just felt like a loser after he pointed out that I’d been going there so frequently.]

How can I get rid of that fear, and that way of thinking?


I read through the newcomer materials from the Al-Anon meeting. They all seem so incredibly out-of-date. No surprise—most of it was written in the ’50s or ’60s of the last century. Reading the pamphlets, I just had a feeling of the concepts being outdated.

I disagree that the enabler would mostly be a male figure, instead of female.

Other things just made me think, “Man, they really need to rewrite this shit for the 21st century.”

Seems so old fashioned, to me. Maybe that’s why I don’t get the feeling of “belonging,” in the 12-step groups. All of them are based on the original AA 12-Step, from the ’30s and ’40s. To me, it’s like someone trying to start a fire by rubbing sticks together, to light a room. And I suggest using electrical lights, and skipping the fire-building altogether.

I don’t know. Do I need to keep trying the 12-Step crap? It helped in October, but only because it was a group who is understanding and would listen to me. The steps and literature never sat well with me. It always seemed to archaic for me.

Reading self help books and piecing things together with the occasional help of a therapist is what seems to really be working the best for me. I can’t follow any old-fashioned 12-step thing, in order. It helps plenty of others, but I think I’m finally coming to the conclusion that it’s not for me.

Plus, I don’t believe I’m actually addicted to anything. I just have childhood issues that are affecting how I guild relationships, run my life, and treat myself. That’s not addiction. Not to me, at least.


I wonder if Sammie will notice I’m not in the dueling piano bar crowd tonight? I try not to think of him. Sometimes I wonder about love addiction. Sometimes I feel like running away, to remove this, and all, male figures from my life.

But that is logically silly. I can’t continue to run every time a dude finds me interesting or wants to be my friend. Besides, if I run from him, then I’m also running from the chance to learn and do something I really love—play piano and entertain with humor. He told me that he also finds me interesting, like a brother/sister.

Intimacy still frightens me.

Risk, I’ve been told, is the solution.

Risk with the right people. And slowly, gradually.

I’m sick of obsessing about guys. He’s just a guy. Just a dude. No one special. He’s human just like the rest of us. And married, for fuck’s sake.


It bugs me, not knowing who the first sexual abuser was, in my life. So I went ahead and asked a psychic, via email. I’m not sure how accurate this is, in reality, but this is what she said:

  • I was 4 or 5.
  • Boy was 11 or 12 (definitely not over 17), skinny and gawky with 70s hair; team jersey. Might have been acting out abuse done to him. Mental illness, heavily medicated, in a fog and not quite conscious.
  • Kid’s father: greenish-yellow shirt, button-down, short-sleeved.
  • Boy maybe also did it to someone else, a couple years later; that time was a big wake-up call. Sex still freaks him out, to this day.

[Posts about other psychics here.]


It’s very difficult to say no to sex. I do not believe it’s because of any sort of sexual addiction. I think it’s because of being molested, and growing up in a family where I was primarily neglected, ignored, unloved, and emotionally abandoned. I had indirectly learned that I was not important. Not valuable.

I had no right to be my own person and certainly no right to say No.

So when people wanted sex, I always said yes, even if I barely knew the guy. It wasn’t because I loved sex; wasn’t because I was addicted to it.

On the contrary, sex has always been an act of desperation—never an act of kindness or love.

I’ve never had an orgasm, so it wasn’t about me getting pleasure. It was the only way I thought I’d ever be accepted.


I happened to come across an episode of Bonanza. It was neat to see a woman playing the piano. She took requests, just like in the dueling piano bar. She wore a beautiful dress that looked half fancy and half hooker-ish. Instead of ordering an alcoholic drink, she ordered buttermilk.

Joe Cartwright: “Buttermilk! You’ve gotta be kidding. So who’s the real you? What you’re drinking or what you’re wearing?”

Lady playing the piano: “The dress is from management. That’s for the customers whose eye sight doesn’t match their hearing.”


Guys talking about emotions is a welcome change from a father who seemed to be emotionless, except for anger.

“Is sex addiction a real addiction?” It’s like people arguing whether this is a water bottle or a water carrier. It’s just two different terms for the same concept. But I will say this: I have stopped calling myself an addict, because to me, the word “addict” means that there is no hope for recovery, and I am not hopeless.


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