12.27.2010

New (Years) Resolutions

It has been a while since I've written, and I left last time on a rather dramatic, worrisome note. In the time since then, I've pulled myself back together. I'm not sure completely, but it seems like the burden I carry for being trans is just a bit too much to bear at times.

Since then, I've had to celebrate the holiday with my biological relatives. I knew this was going to be a struggle when I left to visit them. The first night wasn't bad, but I got wind of plans for a "family get together" the next night. This was different as it was to include my father's surrogate daughter, her husband and newborn son.

I left the apartment early and didn't show up until after things were already going. I tried in vain to find anyone to give me an excuse to not return, I also tried shopping, movies, and driving around my old neighborhoods. I eventually returned, and only then, was it after wasting time at a local pub drinking beer, and debating whether or not to cut myself in the bathroom stalls. When I finally left, I walked outside and a chilling rain was dumping large drops onto my head and face. I looked up and just started laughing and letting it hit me for a bit. I wasn't upset at the rain, I was ecstatic for it as it reminded me of all things Seattle. Cold, wet, rain. It was cloudy, humid, and 80* when I went into the bar. I drove back in an ecstacy of tire spin and hooliganism on empty wet roads.

When I got inside, I said my hellos and gave meaningless hugs. I don't remember many of the nondramatic details. At one point, my father interrupted a conversation between my brother and I, so we could be sure and watch him take pictures of his surrogate grandchild. The impact of this, on my brother and I, is apparently lost on my father. After emotionally abandoning us to her, he still invites her over as if he had done nothing wrong. I appeased the bile and rage I felt and continued my escapism with my brother and his girlfriend. At some point, sentences by cisgender women began "As a woman". At this point, I felt I had to run to the bathroom for fear of hearing how that conversation would turn out. I bargained with myself in said bathroom to only do two more cuts. Exiting, sane again, I rejoined and continued a very shallow consciousness until the night eventually ended.

Christmas day came and went largely unnoticed. Gifts were appreciated, but nothing I could not easily live without. Especially considering they mean so little coming from people I've no real emotional connection to anymore. The entire time I kept hearing the theme of "it isn't about you" echoed by various people. I was forced into taking pictures I didn't want to be a part of, and instead of understanding that I didn't want photo's taken, I was patronized and told I'd eventually want them. I sincerely doubt this. Lack of connection aside, why would I want photos of me at my worst? The whole event shows a huge lack of understanding on their part, and a dismissal of my feelings.

At the end of the day, my brother repeated, again, the "not about you" mantra. What bothers me about this, is the sheer hypocrisy of the statement from him. I have lived these past 7 years completely for my parents. I answered every call, I cut spending when I told to, I came down when they asked, I did favors, I helped out where I could. I took out loans to help pay for my tuition and living expenses. I do everything I can to placate, and make their lives easier. Now, having graduated, and finally free from whoring myself out for their support, I can relax, be myself, and not do anything, I don't want to do. Meanwhile, my brother has done the complete antithesis of this, to the point that my parents either A, don't bother calling him as he never answers, or B, rant to me about how they can't get in contact with him. The nerve, gall, and hypocrisy of him telling me to do anything for the sake of them asking me to, is absurd and complete bullshit.

I've since vowed I will never return to celebrate any holiday out of obligation or guilt. Especially not with them. I want to celebrate with an actual family, one that when I leave I feel sadness, not relief. People I have an actual emotional connection and investment in, not a glorified financial planner and debt collector. The same applies to both sides of my family, I'd almost rather not take their gifts and cut off contact from them, than to have to remain attached to them because of material possessions.

That said, I am back home now, and feeling much more like myself now. Healing up, again, as per the usual.

12.12.2010

Ends of the Year

I'm not sure what to do. I find myself having dark thoughts again, except the tricks that got me out last time aren't working. Everywhere I go, and despite who I am around, all I see are cisgender people leading their cisgender lives. Going about partying, talking, drinking, dancing, living life as they want and should do. Meanwhile, this just leads me to feel even more isolated and alone than normal. Exacerbated by the issue that even the GLB friends I have, don't understand what it is like to be trans. It is fine to offer support, but it can be nothing more than hollow coming from people who don't quite understand.

This came to a point at a party last night, that I had to leave. I was able to maintain my guise of strength for only so long, and managed to escape with little attention paid. This speaks volumes of the emotional intelligence and observational skill of some of the people I label as friends. Everything, it seems, just pushes the isolation. By the time I got home one of my neighbors found me sobbing in the car and helped me inside. I don't think I've ever cried as much, or as hard  since I was an a young child. Even balled up in her arms I still felt alone, surrounded by cisgender people who may be friends, but will never be romantic. She stayed with me for a while, taking my knife with her. This nigh crippling melancholy continues still, and if I deviate from escapism for to long it strikes me quickly and painfully like a knife to the heart. It usually forces me into a semi-human like puddle on the floor.

Normally, when people talk about being alone, this is countered by comments of "oh well if I were single I'd date you". I find these comments to be completely untrue, and used as a convenient way out of feeling guilty. The fact is that when telling someone you are trans, makes them completely disavow having any interest in you, makes one feel subhuman, ashamed and unworthy. I find it harder and harder to admit to myself that I'm worthy of being loved. When so many people tell you the counter, or only want to objectify you for your genitals, it becomes second nature to simply assume you're second class.

I thought about simply driving to the coast, but I don't have the time to make it there and back...There are obligations this week, at this moment, the idea of having a large party of people over that are my so called friends horrifies me. Having that loneliness strike me without a place to hide is a terrifying thought.

Now, my fear is that I'll slide back into depression from this hole. What is the point in life if you spend it closed off from other people...I wonder if I'm simply not strong enough to tolerate my existence on my own. In need of a crutch simply to survive is a poor form of life for any being to create.

12.09.2010

Frailty

I've been crying a lot more it seems. Well, at least more regularly. I've been reminiscing  about my childhood, watching old cartoons from when I was a kid, and just remembering a lot of things with a new perspective. Just before I tried to go to bed I kept thinking about all the things I'm denied by birth. I'll never know what it is like to grow up female. I'll never experience a girls locker room, I'll never get to gossip with other girls over trivial bullshit. I know it is petty, and that most girls won't say any of these things are really hallmarks of their life, but they shouldn't have been hallmarks in mine as well.

This speaks to the larger, longing to which I've come to succumb to. That of the normal, cisgender female. While, I'm pretty sure just about every trans girl ever to have been has longed for this, I find it is the smaller details and memories that I miss out on that bother me more than the physical aspects of my body these days. Not that my body is particularly appealing to me still, but at least that is progressing. There is no way I can gain those memories and experiences.

I find it strange that during these lows I still get suicidal notions. Being out of my depression it is obviously less of an actuality, but the fantasy is still there. Maybe I should stop watching the wonder years, though I find I get similar themes in other shows from my childhood, things I don't remember feeling when I watched them at the time, but that I know where there...hidden, deep inside. I'm glad I can remember those emotions, but I can't bear them full on. The intensity of them scared me when I first pushed into those emotional memories and I'm hesitant to test how strong those currents run, lest they take me with them.

I'm not sure this is something I can face. There are few things I'm scared to deal with in my life, confronting my father on his emotional neglect, facing the explicit limitations of being trans,  and apparently the depth of how much I've hidden away from myself over the past 12 years of hiding. I knew I was good at faking normality, escapism, but I didn't think I'd actually been so good as to hide it from myself. Sometimes I find it amazing that I'm alive at all.