You're a Wizard Harry

I'm an aunt now. Which, is weird. It's one of the strange aspects of my existence that isolates me from my family. Depression and mental illness I share with my brother. Femininity I share with my mom, Transsexualism I share with my cousin (who may yet also join me in sterility), but at the moment, I'm the only one incapable of reproducing.

The affect this has on me is...profound. But that seems to escape the glee of my mother, who insists on sending me photos of my niece, seemingly unconscious of how triggering it can be to see the child of my brother. It isn't, that I haven't had time to think about it. I've mourned and grieved over my lost children before, as I do now, but it's different to see it in your email and text messages. To be asked to congratulate people, without a second thought as to why you might be distant.

Normally I might handle this in my typical graceful tolerance, but at the moment I struggle with a new existential crises, and a flair of the dramatic.

I find myself losing entire days to depression, I get caught up in my lack of schedule and lack of plans. I eliminate possibilities of action because they have no purpose.

Go to a coffee shop? Okay sure, but why? What will I do there? Nothing? Then why bother?

With no underlining purpose, I have a hard to finding the motivation to do anything. That includes life in general. Being unemployed puts a financial strain on all of my decisions, so that I can't just go out and enjoy my time by say, going to a movie, or going for ice cream. No, it's ramen and mac and cheese every day sadly.

Which, leads one to feel a bit like a rat in a cage. I exhaust my games quickly, and blow through books like no other while waiting ages for something to do, or an excuse to go back to a coffee shop for a few hours to do, essentially what I do at home.

I've offered to help my ex of a few years ago around her business/studio, which, should if nothing else, get me out of the house and a bit more structure in my schedule. How and whether that devolves or develops into something else is a matter for a different entry. In discussing it with my therapist, she was described as stirring up shit for me, which can be a source of growth. Which, if you know, you know is my thing. I can't stand stagnating. I feel almost entirely like I am now, and it drives me to awful and familiar thoughts of self harm.