It’s been awhile since I shared an image. I haven’t been pleased with what I see in the mirror lately…for more than one reason. I also haven’t felt terribly sexy or sensual. Mostly, my life has been sports bras and functional, comfortable cotton. I haven’t shaved or buffed or scrubbed or polished. I’ve showered, and worked, and escaped into TV and books, and slept. It’s about all I can manage.
Sometimes, depression sneaks up on me like this. I’m so good at compartmentalizing and functioning on autopilot that I don’t realize the monster has taken me until I find myself in bed at noon on a Saturday, unable to muster the energy to do anything.
It’s not black and white. It’s a whole spectrum of hazy gray, muting everything that matters down to a manageable darkness. And that’s where I’ve been living for some time now…down in a hole, feeling shitty about my non-existent sex drive, worrying that it will never return, swallowing the guilt over how this is affecting my partner.
And the more hurt and angry he becomes, the further I recede. The more gray and fuzzy it becomes. Like I’m going blind and cannot see the color any more.
But this is still here…this body with all of its feelings and needs is still here. The curves waiting for the trace of a fingertip, the warmth of breath, the soft touch of two lips upon downy skin.