give me nysfc or give me death (by chocolate!)

I'd like to know, just once, about the human psyche and it's accoutrements. Mine is damn weird. Everything in this world reminds me of something else. A scent will trigger a memory and I'll get a whoosh of feeling associated with some odd time in my life when last I caught that scent. I attach emotion to every occasion, and then later I can't divorce myself from it. Years later, even. Sometimes it's nice. I will smell powdered sugar on a funnel cake and completely relive a time I went to the MN state fair and I get this mental image of myself walking the boulevard down to the Grandstand. It's things like that.

The bad things I'd rather live without. Physical sensations have been known to bring up old memories as well. I've had them before, but I'm usually pretty good at tamping down the emotion and moving on. My ex was so nonthreatening in every way that I never got any flashbacks in bed (or real mindblowing excitement either, but that's the trade-off.). He and I never pushed my boundaries and at the time I liked it that way. Everything was happy and comfortable, like an old shoe (Although he did have this weird fascination with...*cough* nevermind). HA!

Now things are so different. I'm so willing to open up and explore parts of myself that I always hid from (out of the gutter, now!) and experiment with my own sexuality. The down side to that is realizing I've still got issues to deal with left over from the Antichrist and his reign of terror.
How do I deal with this? I don't want to feel the freezeup that always occurred with every man after the A.C. and up until the Punxor. I ended up on autopilot most of the time, and as my sister Jules would attest I went through boyfriends like Kleenex tissue. Oh boy how she used to berate me for doing that! I think it upset her that I could be so cold-blooded when it came to dismissing applicants. The one that nearly had my full attention was the chef...until I of course found out who those mystery boxes of cigarrettes belonged to, and why my photo was always in a drawer when I came over. Damn chefs. Ptoooie! I speeet on joo!

That leaves me with my own pile of doo doo once again. What to doo doo? *shudder* Yeah, I know that was bad. Leave me with my small (tiny) pleasures.