Tag Archives: Desire

MEDS 2


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Written previously, but freshly revised.

MEDS 1

So maybe I don’t need fixing?  Maybe I’m perfectly normal except for a few bipolar episodes a month.  Maybe I’m perfectly normal except that relationships are hard to manage under the waves of my high and low bipolar episodes.  Unfortunately these episodes can last throughout the days, weeks, months and years.  These episodes are rapid, can appear without sudden warning and sometimes when I’m outside looking in, I wonder about the duality of everything, the possibility of borderline personality disorder and about the strife everywhere in life.

As a result six months later after ongoing therapy I told the psychiatrist I would finally be ready to give medication a try and to my surprise she wasn’t super elated about it.  I wonder if that meant anything aside from her not caring about making a difference in her position.  The first medication she prescribed was called Lamictal.  The interesting or unnerving thing about this medication is it’s actually considered an anti-epileptic (anticonvulsant) drug, if you can believe it.

This nutty psychiatrist prescribed Lamictal to me based on my bipolar disorder (to delay the episodes) and because she believed I could use additional assistance for weight loss.  In any case, I was determined to give this a shot, so I took it with dedication for 3 months.  Naturally, during the course, I went through many side effects and even if they lasted a mere day I wrote them all down.  It was 2 decades almost exactly since I’ve taken any medication.  Here’s how my brain and body reacted:

General sensation of always being sick
General weakness
Fatigue (Extreme)
Sluggishness
Flu like symptoms
Unbalanced (Clumsiness, loss of balance control)
Forgetfulness (like experiencing memory loss)
Emotional Lability
Body Aches
Tender Breasts
Back pain
Nausea
Loss of appetite
Headaches
Stomach pain (Cramps)
Extra menstrual pain
Indigestion/Heartburn
Taste alteration (Either food taste better or disgusting)
Sweat increase
Sneezing
Nosebleeds
Ringing of ears
Itchiness
Insomnia
Body sacs (like Folliculitis)
Frequent urination
Diarrhea
Constipation/Bloody Stool
Can’t remember dreams

At first all the side effects above were consistent for the first 2 weeks.  Then after the 2 weeks were up many of the side effects began to taper off as my body started to adjust without flu-like symptoms.  However, these are the side effects that remained on a regular basis:  An overwhelming desire to eat more Carbs than usual, extra Perspiration (even if I sat/stood still) and Headaches, Headaches, Headaches.  But WAIT!  There’s more.

In the beginning the one side effect that bothered me the most was the drowsiness; the feeling of perpetual sleepiness and overall weakness.  Every day I was completely exhausted.  During this sensible time, I was fighting with myself and wondering once again where my workout motivation disappeared to?  Lamictal exhausted my entire system where for an entire month I couldn’t even get a single workout in.

The most prominent side effect (for me) that I can’t even explain, (but I’m sure somewhere there’s a terminology for it) tampered with who I am as a person.  I’m not stupid enough to NOT believe changing or altering your brain/body’s chemistry wouldn’t affect your personality because it most certainly does.  To me, this is one of the scariest things about taking a psychiatric pill, aside from consciously knowing you’re putting something extremely foreign in your body.

Lamictal affected one of the most personal parts of who I am – I could no longer write.  I had zero desire for it.  I felt like an entirely different person because of this.   All my life I’ve written for school, tried my hand at screenplays, poetry, short stories and as you know blogging.  So I’m like how could this be?  No desire to write.

This was changing me in ways I wasn’t even ready for and I was doing my best to be objective about it.  I would try sitting down at the table, hand caressing pen to paper, so I can come up with a single sentence and nothing would come out.  It’s like the thought process couldn’t process a single thought.  It’s like words meant nothing to me anymore and neither did the desire to express myself.

I felt severely inept and like I didn’t have any emotional response when it came to writing which blew my fucking mind!  What kind of sorcery was this?  This was when I decided I didn’t want to be on Lamictal anymore.  It was a shock to my system that my brain and body reacted rather extreme.

So when I expressed to the nutty psychiatrist that Lamictal has changed me to the point where I don’t feel like myself anymore and I can’t even write anymore which is something I love doing, she says nonchalantly, “I never heard of this.  This doesn’t seem possible.  Let’s try something else.”

To be continued.

-Pennington

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Distorted Gauge


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Since February I’ve had a pattern of working out straight for 2 weeks (multiple workouts) and the next 2 weeks I’ll idly be standing by wishing hard on a star that I could unearth the motivation I require to make muscle gains and decrease body weight/bodyfat – as well as gaining that feeling of being normal again (after breaking my ankle) while increasing my sexiness also.

Fast-forward to May I made my debut in the gym 9 months later.  I thought being at my second home would give me all the motivation I needed – that being around the energy of like-minded folks would get my desire burning high.  But the truth is most of those folks in the gym wouldn’t know what it’s like to be me.  And currently speaking, I’m not sure what it’s fully like to be me anymore.  I’ve been transitioning into the unknown on a myriad trip.

Ever since I broke my ankle, my existence has changed.  Everything has become distorted, painful, effervescent, unique, spiritual or unidentified.  I still have complications, and I must obtain a second and third opinion from new surgeons, in order to gain some knowledge, so things are less unknown.

However, things have changed rapidly, and now I can set up back in the gym, but I’m intimidated simply by stepping on the elliptical machine, even though I force myself, so I don’t look like a scared cat in front of others.  Aside from the intimidation, I have constant shooting pains in my foot and they go upwards and I visualize these pains as shooting stars that go into the cosmos of my calves – and I wonder why I’m in a gym at all? And one glance at the chin up assisted machine and it looks like a skyscraper both mentally and physically – how am I to climb it without being frighten on the descending part for I can slip and break my ankle again?

I feel the anxiety of nerves freeze me in place in the center of the gym and I hope nobody notices my own little drama and sense of defeat.  I hope no one notices and this is why I cover myself with an overbearing hoodie to hide behind.  I’m overweight by my standards and I don’t know how I’m not myself anymore?  I am not the gym rat I used to know.  And should I be this gym obsessed person just because I’ve been one for over a decade?  Should I act as if nothing changed when everything changed in my life?  Or should I act as if everything changed as it did and proceed accordingly?

The next month I wrestled with doubling and tripling workouts in a single day at the gym despite my innermost disruptive sentiments.  I wanted to believe I can work through this by moving forward and forcing myself on these machines that used to be my favorite friends.  I do what common people do and bring guests with me so we can workout for the purpose of keeping accountable and motivated.  Well, I burned myself out in a month and a half.  I believe I did this subconsciously until the real answer tore from its denial system and decided to surface: I disliked going to the gym.

There are things I can’t do at the moment that I miss so much like Walking Lunges or Single Stiff-Legged Deadlifts. I can’t bend my foot in half without my arch giving way to a pain quite massive that I lose all hope in working out at all.  I don’t have the balance to stay on one foot for more than 20 seconds on a good day.  And I do focus on all the things I could do like push ups, shoulder presses, seated rows and such, but not even this keeps me motivated.  The next month in the middle of June I told all my guests I can no longer go to the gym 5-6 times a week which includes the multiple sessions in a day.  I’m breaking up with the gym for a little while.  I can probably go once or twice a week on the days where my mood is as bright as the sun.  I need a mental and physical breakthrough, and until this time comes I’ve changed gears.

Now I’m back at home with workouts.  I don’t have to hide from anyone, but myself (at times).  I feel freer and am creative with the dumbbells and barbell I have at home.  I pressure myself less on who I used to be since I’m not that person in and out the gym right now.  I have different goals, and one starts with the shape of my mentality.  Side notes consist of:  Taking turns doing multiple sessions in a single day from Wii Fit, fitness DVD’s and writing my own strength-training programs.  Home workouts seem to be more intense especially when mixed with less rest time.

One day I can go hard on my body, whether it is my Legs or Yoga, and the next day I have to pull back the reigns because the sour pain in my ankle won’t let up.  It all becomes about creating balance.  It all becomes about my preparation now for when I do go back to the gym with a body and mind-frame that would be better than even the person I used to know.  I’m a different person now, and this is a fact.  I have a different body now – another fact.  And what remains is that I’m just in the midst of trying to figure everything out in the meantime.

To be continued.. work in progress.

-Pennington

Fool’s Paradise


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I desired him with bursting lust.  I let it rain on my aura and let the mist find its way into my dreams repeatedly like an oath, like a séance.

I watched as others adored him for how beautiful he was on the surface; a body resembling a superhero, pectoral muscles like Captain America, abdominals ribbed for everyone’s pleasure and quads like a Greek God; the way they announced themselves during lunges with striated lightning to the eyes.

From the beginning, I appreciated the fire in his pupils and air of confidence.  I not only asked, but I heard stories of his party promoting abilities, cocaine habits, Spanish women and elephant dick.  I’d lean on in to the world of guaranteed chemistry, where I felt his transference licorice wave fuzzily on mine, in which, the commotion became mutual.

And when the time came, full square mirror on the ceiling, cloud-blue walls, golden sparkly headboard and splitting the hotel bill; he stripped his clothes with no big deal and half-sat and lay on the bed naked as a tree bark.  I zeroed in on his member, awaiting the hyped monster dick, but to no avail.

The shyness I owned dissolved like both his lack of girth and lack of length.  My thoughts flew back to the joys of Jefferson Valley where the love of my life has never failed to dissatisfy with his package of a body; the plump heart of his flank I suddenly yearned for.  It’s the one that fits my vulva perfectly.

-Pennington

My Life, My Training


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A lot of times I train for my mind, probably more so than I train for my body.   I also train for pain.   I train for anger management.   I train to make sure I’m productive.   I train to remain disciplined.   I train to be committed about something because I’m not committed to a lot, besides personal growth, writing, poetry, education, reading and so on.   I train for therapy.   I train for strength and power.   I train to put fear in people when they look at my gigantic arms.   I train for every time I felt weak in childhood.   I train and train like a locomotive.

I used to train for the pump all the freaking time when I first started training back in two-thousand and three.   But this proved more for my ego and less to get me anywhere as far as gains were concerned.   Again, I train more for my mind and anger management than anything else.   I don’t eat good nutrition half of the time (unless I’ve made a conscious decision to do so for a lengthy period) although I would want to be more aesthetic looking at some point or other.   That’s another topic however.

This ties into how, who, what, where and when someone can’t understand why I may take a cup of caffeine to my system and go sixty straight minutes of cardio only to perform sixty straight minutes of weightlifting or more to no end.   They can’t understand why I do this.   They’re too busy assuming I wouldn’t be growing because I have no fuel in my system.   This is a load of bullshit!   Of course one can grow even though you didn’t eat beforehand.   What a load of crock shit!

It’s easier for someone to judge and say, “Oh this person is doing such and such wrong” as if they had all the fucking answers in the world to why you train and how you train and when you should train and whatever the fuck else.   Fuck them!   Half these people have never picked up a dumbbell in their life or know what polyunsaturated and monounsaturated fats are.   So a BIG FUCK YOU TO THEM!

I like to push my mind and body to places without food or water or music at times because I don’t want to be comfortable training in only one or two ways.   I don’t want to feel like I need to be on a full stomach in order to lift heavy or collect PR’s or do better rep-wise then the last time I did my routine and jot it down in my book.   Why would anyone want to train comfortable all the time?   How could you not long for an exit out of the comfort zone from time to time or every single time?

Many people don’t know how to mind their fucking business when it comes to you, how you train, what you eat or why you do the things YOU do.   Yet they’re too busy observing everything you do because they wish they could DO what YOU do.

They wish they had the ongoing motivation, passion, desire and the discipline to do everything you’re striving to perform day in and day out.   So whenever you do your own thing or turn your back on conventional methods, believe you me they are there to hunt you down waiting for the chance to lash at you and jump down your throat with how wrong they think you are because they’re a bunch of soft penises.

If you ever come across these unkind people just ignore them.   They don’t do anything to assist except help to make you vent on your fitness blog like me.   I’m very glad I never listened to anyone in my life.   I barely care about other people’s opinions and perceptions of me.   There are plenty of people who couldn’t handle my life or my fucking training.    As long as I know myself, why I do the things I do and am comfortable doing what I’m doing then all is right with me and the world.

They don’t need to exist in your world if you don’t allow them to, but let them continue to observe your life and how you train because there’s no doubt about it they’re making your importance valuable in their world.

-Pennington

Erotica: Meltdown


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I would undress for him at a snail’s pace because that was part of his personality that ached. He took pleasure in time because it’s all he had in the world, particularly when I would stand in front of him, nude and unmistakably transparent, offering every part of this body of mine.

He sat with a calm edge on the black chair taking in the view; an expression throughout his face went about, a sigh of silent relief and reached for me like a sculpture of a goddess with his sensible fingertips. And what stuck out to me the most was just how amused he was by my full breasts and how he would open his mouth and lick his voluminous lips like some kind of wily crook. With packed intention and strange focus in his eyes I felt his burning desire right on the nerves of my nipples. I felt exactly how he wanted me to feel aroused and as if his soaked tongue had already curled up into the pleasure-button at the center of my breast.

I couldn’t help it; this form of teasing enthralled me within its sweet sweet torture. It excited me greatly and the wetness couldn’t be contained, my pussy blossomed more and more and the moisture continued to slip out my outer lips making me both embarrassed and flushed. Why hasn’t he touched me yet but with his look I cried in horrible silence? The skin on my body yearned for his touch, I felt water swarming in my eyes and my heart hammered in every part of my limbs. I couldn’t hide my chest or control my breaths from rising and falling. I became deeply transparent and here I stood in front of his growing magic.

He woke me out my thoughts and sentiments by letting his desire loiter throughout my entire flesh and pinpointed his fire heavily through my bosoms. He took them into his hands and kneaded them like loaf taking turns with both to circulate the blood in its entire dough of roundness than pluck upon my nipples kindly to make them respond in frenzied vibrations. He would pinch them upwards and outwards and down with sincerity to make them flattering straight until they stood like tips of pointed arrows staring at his pupils wanting to assault him.

It’s what he ached for, I could hear it in each time he plucked and pinched me how he moaned agreeably and hummed to the rhythm of his own touch than to the rhythm of my own lively body. His hands opened up similar to a promise and caressed me in every delicate technique imaginable and in every inch, of every line, of every beauty mark, of every developed callus, of every pore and every blemish he left not one undiscovered. I shivered as if this foreplay was my first time and buckled in my knees and became bowlegged. It felt almost helpless, the way my body stood in a fire and my nipples cried out in a fury while my wetness treaded jumpy down my legs. I wanted to scream loud enough for the entire city to hear: PLEASE JUST FUCKING TASTE ME ALREADY!

I gasped and tripped forward, my breasts dangling like chandeliers right before his hazel eyes when he pulled me in, a bear-hug around my lower back inching me closer and into that black chair. His face buried in my breasts, he groaned sensationally as he rubbed his brows, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and chin in between and around them. My eyes widened, he must have heard my call and he slid his thick lips and kissed and sucked my sizzling skin, neck and clavicle. The suction noises he made drove me insane but crazed was how he made sure to avoid my nipples. Why? Why? Why for these pleasure-buttons are hurting in horny ferocity?

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But than he inched me back and stuck out his tongue while his hands held my forearms heavy to keep me in place and he poked my nipple with the tip of it. Poke, poke and poke than switched to the other, poke, poke, poke. I glanced down at him in a state of fascination and wept inside my vagina. My areola shrank in size and his tongue went back on my nipple and varied on multiple pressures and stiff licks to make sure my nipple would move a tad during action.

I almost died surrounded by the commotion of every physical sensation. My body I couldn’t keep from moving but he held down my arms and squeezed the life out of my wrists if I thought about getting out of hand and by this point he sucked slowly outwards letting his tongue twirl as he let go only to come back for more. Than he sat me on his lap in a riding position and he growled a loud moan and voiced, “How could you be this wet for me naughty woman? How could you be comfortable to smear all this pussy juice on my legs? I believe I’m in love with you” and engulfed me he did in a firework make-out session.

To be continued..

-Pennington©

Qualm


I showered one night and lathered up in the unchanged way I always do, half grudgingly and the other with methodical certainty from bulky arms, to bursting bosoms, to pooch belly, to smooth waist, to entity vagina, to voluptuous thighs until I came across my calve, a steel rock of will and sheer determination.

This became the day I questioned every exhausting set of every draining rep of cruel years spent on sculpting, limping and wincing through the Charlie Horses that arrived to visit me in the tragedy of over stimulating nights to walk every line to put every ounce of life in training to win every fight.

So why did I pull away abruptly?  Why did I fall back on my training approach? How could I fear exactly what I’ve desired the most?  Diamonds that would climb the circumference of a quad and cut as appealing and wicked as ice. Polished for the world to know how I strong I am by how much pain and anguish bore within this delightful body of mine.

I’m reminded of how I want to grow into where my mind and my heart and my spirit of power will take me.  I want to cast out all the words, shocked faces and expressions to ill me of what I accomplish and of who I am.  I look to you, a statue of greatness, a shrine of eternal internal faith and a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the subconscious.

-Pennington©