Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: navel gazing

My goals for 2026, this and that (smaller goals), part three

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I’m a mess; I’ll admit it. There are so many things I’d like to change in my life, and it paralyzes me from doing anything. My brother is completely different, and I envy him for it. When he sets his mind to something, he just does it. Granted, sometimes it takes longer than he planned because he tends to underestimate how long things actually take and how quickly he can get shit done. Plus, with ten things going on at once, there is bound to be a ball or two dropped. Still. He does more in a week than I do in a year.

It’s hard to believe we have the same genes, honestly. We could not be more different in most ways. There are a few ways in which we are similar (we’re both on the autism spectrum,; we both have our topics that we can wax poetic on forever–and I do mean forever; and we’re both very opinionated, for example), but  I could rattle off our differences for several minutes. He’s more logical-minded whereas I’m almost pure emotion. He’s EQ is not great; mine is off the charts. He’s Christian, and I am not. He’s super-active while I am not. He’s into pickleball, hiking, and other outdoor activities while I prefer my exercise martial and indoors, please. I’m allergic to everything under the sun, and I stay out of the outside as much as possible.

I like to say I like the outdoors as long as it stays outside and away from me. I also like to say that I’m allergic to everything including the air.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. There are several things I’d like to improve this year. Or rather, several things I’d like to change about me and the way I am.

In the last post, I talked about wanting to get laid. Not looking for a romantic relationship, but for sex. I mentioned all the reasons that I had not gotten my groove on in quite some time, and maybe this is the year that I actually make the effort to get a piece.

Side note: Everything is really hard for me to make myself do. It’s the depression, and while I am not happy about it, I just accept it as part of who I am. Even when I was at my mental health best, it still took so much effort to actually do things. That’s another thing I am envious about with my  brother–that he just does things.

I want to cook a bit. I was going to say cook more, but that would be insinuating that I cook at all. Which I haven’t since, well, in a very long time. Even when I did cook on the regular, it was mostly simple pastas or making sandwiches. I did buy a slow cooker, but my sink broke, so I can’t watsh it. Yes, I need to get a new sink, but taht isn’t going to happen any time soon. Which means the slow cooker hasn’t been used in quite some time.  Also, the few things I made in it weren’t great, plus it took way more effort than I thought.


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My goals for 2026, this and that (smaller goals), part two

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In the new year, I have three big goals I want to attain. I also have a bunch of other smaller goals that I wish to do, too. Well, not smaller per se because some will be harder, but not my main goals. I talked about my mental health and finding a therapist in the last post. In this one, I want ta talk about finding a fuck buddy or three.

In early February of 2020, I decided that I wanted to start dating. Not to find ‘the one’ or to be in a lifelong relationship, but because, quite frankly, I was horny as fuck. I’ve always been good at sex, but I’m pretty bad at romantic relationship. I was not a good partner for reasons that were partly my fault and partly not. Family training is hard to break, and I have been trying for nearly fifty years.Plus, I never really wanted to be in a long-term committed monogamous realtionships. I thought I  would be married by the time I was thirty because that was drilled into my head as the only proper thing for a woman to do–and then I would squeeze out a kid or two in following God’s great plan for every wonman on earth.

Looking back, I’m appalled at how I bought it hook, line, and sinker. I mean,  I don’t really blame myself because your family is all you know as a kid. It’s the norm, and if your family is fucked up, well, then that’s your base normal.

I am so grateful that I knew I realized I did not want children before my mother started her full-court press to get me pregnant. And, no, I’m not being too harsh on her because she spent fifteen years nagging me to have children. It started when i turned twenty-six and she commented that she had my brother at that age. Every time we talked after that, she managed to work me having children into the conversation. When she came in the summer to visit for a month, she mentioned it nearly every day.

When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, my mother told me that my grandmother would really like to be a great-grandmother before she died. I was the oldest AFAB grandchild on that side of my family, and the fact that my mother was telling me meant that she was just using it as another cudgel to get me pregnant.

I reminded her that it took a while to meet someone, get married (they’re devout Christians), and get pregnant. Not to mention the nine months of gestating the baby. She said she was sure my grandmother would be fine if I skipped right to the having the baby part. My jaw dropped because as I noted, they are deeply Evangelical. I marveled at how a lifetime of very rigid and strict conservative morals were dropped just like that for what was ultimately a selfish desire.


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