A Woman of Extremes
I get obsessed with things.
I don’t like to use the word addiction; I don’t like labels.
Don’t put me in a box.
Photo courtesy of Alexandra Richey via Scopio
Benzos
I couldn’t sleep a few years ago, and my doctor put me on a dangerous amount of benzos. My shrink should have been put in a psych ward. Not my fault; I plead not guilty.
I’m serious when I say it was malpractice.
Alcohol
I was a drunk for two years in my thirties. My only explanation is that I was lonely. I drank alone.
Was I an alcoholic? I don’t know. I would drink two bottles of wine in one sitting. I was so drunk I don’t remember how often I did this.
Never went to rehab or AA, just stopped one day. It’s remarkably unusual. I like to think it was divine intervention. I believe god sometimes just helps you out because you look like you need it. Maybe you even deserve it.
(I’m putting this on the World Wide Web; my mother will croak if she finds out I’m airing my dirty laundry here. If you know her, don’t mention it; she’s a frail old lady.)
Shopping
Well, the upside is I have a wardrobe that could rival any diva’s; Kim Kardashian’s got nothing on me. My closet rod fell once a few years ago; our handyman, a family friend, just shook his head and said he could fix it, but the rod wasn’t meant to hold that much weight. He is a gentle, kind man.
He didn’t slap me. I deserved to be slapped.
Dresses, skirts, tops, jeans, pants.
Let’s not forget jewelry.
There was a time I was obsessed with buying makeup, but that’s over, and it all expired.
Am I really a girly girl?
I don’t watch sports; I can’t snake a drain or parallel park. (Don’t ask me why I associate parallel parking with machismo.)
I’m a feminist, though. I’m complex.
I think femininity and gender identity are fluid. I think femininity and masculinity are on a sliding scale, a spectrum, so to speak. Just because I’m on the side of femininity does not mean I’m weak. I mean, there are times I curse like a sailor. We usually think a lady should not do that. I’m not a lady; I’m a woman.
Anyway, I digress.
Writing
Are we going to pathologize this too?
Yeah, sometimes I can’t do anything else or think about anything else.
Some people call that work. I guess it could be called workaholism. But I’m not a workaholic; by nature, I’m too relaxed for that.
I’ll be in the car, in the shower, doing the dishes, and ideas will come to me. I usually jot them down on my phone in the Notes app now because my memory is shot.
I get obsessed with writing in waves. When it comes, it overcomes my entire being.
It’s currently happening to me right now.
My head is literally in ninaland.
I love it. But this time I’m trying to leave the work when I am finished. I went to a bonfire last night with some friends and made a vow not to write anything down in my Notes app. Also, out of nowhere, my Facebook app got disabled. Again, I think it was a sign from the universe telling me to stop checking to see if anyone responded to my latest blog post.
Social Media
I, unlike the rest of the population on Earth, do not watch many reels at all. After many years of trial and error, Facebook has figured out what I need: quotes from great people, authors, and poets, as well as poetry.
The algorithm has apparently figured out that my weakness is not dancing videos but words.
I don’t scroll that much, honestly; it’s a very mild obsession. But when I find a quote or poem that I love, I save it.
Arts
Reading, music, and TV. Are we really going to condemn the arts and call it an obsession?
Sometimes I read four books at one time. Sometimes I sit for hours doing nothing but listening to music. Sometimes I sing along.
I binge on TV shows. I watched all 10 million or so seasons of L.A. Law a few years ago. I also watched all the seasons of Ally McBeal a couple of years ago.
At the moment, I’m not watching anything on TV because everything is boring me. This is also a phase.
Dating
Thinking of the person 24 hours a day.
Some people call that infatuation.
Sometimes it is even called love.
I really get into it when I like someone. I like to think I’m passionate. The problem is I’m sensitive, and I get hurt easily.
That is not because I’m feminine. Or maybe it is. I have often suspected that I have a hormonal imbalance, extra estrogen. There are actual medical reasons I suspect this. I will not delve into them here.
Anyway, if I’m into a man, I am into him. It’s all or nothing for me. I can be a woman of extremes.
But I’m going to be very transparent here: there’s a possibility that I don’t understand men as well as some other women do because I’m mostly female on the scale of gender identity. I don’t know if I have a masculine bone in my body. But let us remember that feminine and masculine are boxes. And I don’t know that you have to be masculine to understand masculinity.
I’m very good at friendships, especially with other women. I have good male friends too; however, many of them are queer. I was once famously a fag hag. I’m not sure if that term is politically incorrect now.
I don’t really know why the only straight male friends I have are mostly the husbands or boyfriends of women friends.
Harry told Sally that men and women could not be friends. That bastard could not have been right…
I fear I might not be as good at relationships as I am at friendships.
That’s all I’m going to say about that.
So I have obsessions, as I mentioned, and I’m not ashamed of them.
Some of them have hurt me, health-wise, financially, or emotionally.
I don’t know how to stop being an obsessive person. Maybe it’s in my DNA.
I’m not trying to change who I am. I’m just trying to find a little peace and balance. To love the things I love without letting them take over my life.
Although, knowing me, I’ll probably become obsessed with finding balance.
nina
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