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.

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