I have lost my mojo. I haven't felt horny for about two weeks now. When I touch myself, nothing happens. Those of you who are aware that I don't know anyone within two hundred miles that I want to have sex with might see this as a good thing, but it really, really isn't. I need that constant exquisite torment of frustration to get anything done, most especially anything creative, from amusing people on bulletin boards through writing stories, right up to the vaster than empires and more slow reconstruction-in-progress that is my life.
I've had some small success trying to force it back to life with playfulness in the Lounge, but my heart (and more importantly, points south) really hasn't been in it. I'm unhappy, pissed off with myself and depressed. (And I am taking my Seroxat religiously, so that isn't a factor). I've also been eating shitloads of chocolate - I had three chunky Kitkats yesterday - which, like an addictive drug, is sort of soothing at the time but only adds fuel to the extra weight and the black, wet cloud of steaming, stinking self-loathing that I'm not having any success at getting rid of.
And this is starting to stray into self-pity territory, and I will not, not, NOT allow myself to go there. I'm writing this partly to explain why I've been more silent than usual lately, and partly to cattleprod myself into getting off my fat arse and fucking doing something about it.
I will get it back. Fuck this for a game of soldiers.
I already feel - not better, but more alive - for writing this. Yah!!!
I've had some small success trying to force it back to life with playfulness in the Lounge, but my heart (and more importantly, points south) really hasn't been in it. I'm unhappy, pissed off with myself and depressed. (And I am taking my Seroxat religiously, so that isn't a factor). I've also been eating shitloads of chocolate - I had three chunky Kitkats yesterday - which, like an addictive drug, is sort of soothing at the time but only adds fuel to the extra weight and the black, wet cloud of steaming, stinking self-loathing that I'm not having any success at getting rid of.
And this is starting to stray into self-pity territory, and I will not, not, NOT allow myself to go there. I'm writing this partly to explain why I've been more silent than usual lately, and partly to cattleprod myself into getting off my fat arse and fucking doing something about it.
I will get it back. Fuck this for a game of soldiers.
I already feel - not better, but more alive - for writing this. Yah!!!
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Anything i can do to help you get your Mojo back?
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That helped :D
I hope it's just a question of time. I do get these dry spells sometimes. They don't usually go on this long, though.
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you'll get out of it ;)
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I hope it's just a question of time. I do get these dry spells sometimes. They don't usually go on this long, though.
it's just going in waves, before you know it you'll crash down on something again and be your usual self :)
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From: (Anonymous)
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G
From: (Anonymous)
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My own hormones are shot because I've got polycystic ovarian disease and sometimes I've got so much testosterone floating in my viens that even doornobs look good. ;-) Other times, I'd rather nap and wonder what all the fuss is about.
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That's my usual baseline state, you know... Actually, I am worried that the Mirena might be causing this. When I was on the Pill years ago that reduced my sex drive considerably - although I never realised that until John had his vasectomy. I'd been taking it since I was sixteen, and I really thought I wasn't getting any side effects. Then when I stopped taking it I lost fifty pounds without trying, and John couldn't take me out in public without a muzzle and leash any more...
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*sends good vibes*