It's been four days since my (literal) fuck-up. That's 96 hours I've spent thinking (and packing for my upcoming move, and smoking a bunch of weed.) And...truth be told, I've been feeling pretty good. But tonight, at work, I was talking to some people who have been following my blog. And basically I was vocally handed some cold, hard, slap-in-the-face facts that started to make me feel pretty shitty instead. The gist of what everyone had to say was, "You said you were going to do these 100 Days. And you broke it. That's it. It's over. What do you mean, you're still going?" I felt myself internally blubbering and stammering. But...but I made some legit breakthroughs! But...this thing wasn't about wang, not REALLY. Right? Right?? I could go on, make excuses, justify my actions ("but... I have feeeeelings for that guy") but nah, the facts are the facts, whether I like them or not. I may have lasted a whole 13 days, whoopee, but I still broke it. I know, at the same time, many of you have said, "it's all about getting back on the horse when you get knocked off," and variations on that theme. But at the end of the day, I didn't make it, and that kiiiinda makes those previous days not count. When I opened my eyes Monday afternoon, blinking the haze of the infamous Sunday from my eyes, I figured, might as well keep truckin' along. And maybe because I woke up still shitfaced, I felt okay continuing on like it was just good ol' day 14, not The Day After "100 Days" Technically Died. Day 13 was the day of the screw up, and I was still counting off the days since then, so today would be day 17. But... after listening to what several people have pointed out tonight, and initially after Sunday's allowance of peen penetration happened, I don't feel quite right going on. I'm not acting like nothing happened, but in a way, I kind of am. And with something that means this much to me, it's making me uncomfortable and feels wrong.
In any other aspect of my life, when something has been important to me, has real value, I don't take it lightly. It becomes a permanent, daily fixture in my life. I will invest endless energy into it. But I definitely do NOT half-ass it, or simply nod off mistakes. With my past academic studies, my singing, my athletic training, playing piano, and of course, my writing, errors need to be caught and fixed immediately. I don't move forward or progress to a new level if I'm still making boo-boos on my current one. Mastering languages meant mastery of the details; if you want to memorize vocabulary and perfect grammar, you start over again from the beginning, even if you miss a single article. Singing requires countless hours of practice and immense patience. I could spend an entire hour singing and re-singing a single cadenza in order to achieve the desired effect. Poor form, even in a single rep, during a workout, won't count and I either start over, or don't count that rep. And so on. I began to think how much this 100 Day thing is similar to all those things that mean the world to me. This project is definitely something that is super meaningful to me, and I feel like I absolutely messed up last Sunday night. But I hate the idea of completely cancelling out the prior 12 days leading up that, because those were 12 days of great work and strides. I came a long way in that short time. So then maybe, I thought, just day 13 won't count. I'll repeat it instead. I'll double up, and count day 14 as 13 again. But that still didn't feel quite right. The deal was to swear off dick for 100 days. If I succumbed, it would force a cancellation of any days already under my belt, no matter how far along I had come (growth-wise, or days-wise.) So the only conclusion I can say makes the most sense and feels the best, is to start over.
During these past few days I've gone on a hiatus of sorts, taking a break from thinking about my self, and men. Instead I've been mulling over this "do I start anew?" thing. And I think it's the correct choice. Aside from it putting me at ease and feeling like the right move, I've also realized that I still have assertiveness issues I'm battling. As much as my writing does NOT portray this, I've been a horribly unassertive person my entire life. When it comes to conflict, getting yelled at, being in trouble, scolded, reprimanded, grounded, criticized, I let myself get backed into corners and fall silent. When it came to calling a spade a spade, saying shit like it was, I was never able to. I briefly saw a counselor in college, and she almost immediately picked up on this phenomenon. She became my mouthpiece in my sessions, saying what she knew I was thinking and feeling, for me, until I was brave enough to stand on my mental feet and say it myself. But I still have trouble with it; I didn't realize it until after this slip-up, and the four days of thinking that followed it. It's probably why, even when I knew the last thing I really wanted or should've done on Sunday, Day 13, Day of The Deed-Doing, was to pay any mind to Night Before Guy, I did anyway. He kept trying to get me to, and I know that was coming, if not entirely, from a male ego "I can break her" thing. And yes, I'm sure part of why I had trouble resisting was because I have feelings for the dude. But...I still couldn't stand my ground. He'd come over and hug me, and instead of walking away, I'd melt and hug him back. BOOOOOOO. So, another thing to work on: get my assertiveness game on point. Am I ready? Here, in my room, at 5:28 a.m., FUCK YEAH I'm ready. I already screwed up once; I lived and am still painfully aware of how shitty I felt afterwards. I don't want to go back to that place, not when there's so much work left to be done. And not when I know how amazing that work was making me feel. I want to glow again.
So. Today will be Day One of the new 100 Days. You can call it whatever you like- Peen Free For Me, 100 Days in Dickless Detention, 100 Days Without Wang: Take Two, Get The Cock Up Outta Here, Shelving of The Shafts, No Hard-on's Til March, The No Bone Zone. Good god, those are terrible. Although that last one could be a good vaginal bumper sticker. Anyway. You get the point. It's Day One bitches. I'm ready. (For real this time. I promise, Mom!)
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