2.24.2016

A steady wilting

The last ten days or so have been pretty good. I've been incredibly busy, work takes from six in the morning until about six in the evening all said and done. By the time I factor in dilation, yoga, and a brief workout and dinner, it's maybe an hour before bed. Tonight, I had no time to actually do anything since I had some chores to take care of spent some time talking to a friend before coming home.

The excitement of the new job has given way to the reality of it all, and while it's a refreshing change from the last job, the realization of boredom of what I'm being asked to do on a daily basis is starting to creep in.

I find myself aching to write more of my story, without really knowing what to, or how to write it. It's just the urge to be doing something I think.

Intermixed, I've been dealing with a restricted dosage of my medication due to a rescheduling of appointments, and a few obstinate doctors not refilling things as they said they would. This may be the cause of my lows seeping back in. Though, it could be any number of this that are correlating to this point.

There wasn't anything to trigger the lows, just, lack of sleep, and emotional exhaustion from dealing with privileged cisgender idiots on the internet. Engaging with them is beneath me, yet it's addictive to want to defend my space and my rights from attack. Solidarity is nice, but it doesn't refill my energy.

It's remarkable how fast the suicidal ideation returns too. All in all, objectively, things are much better than they have been for a while. Yet, emotionally, mentally, I feel drained and apathetic. Like I've had the life energy sucked out of me again.

Romantically, I still miss people. Both my most recent relationships occupy a good deal of mind space. The more recent obviously the more mentally taxing. The one positive aspect is that between my new lack of time is I've less energy to focus on her moving on and forgetting about me. I find a lot of internalized transphobia pops up in those moments (who wouldn't, why would anyone want to date you, you're entirely forgettable, You don't deserve someone like her anyway, etc). In focusing on this new gig, I can at least put that mental energy to better suited things.

In the midst of such, I find myself purging unnecessary social groups that tax and divide my energies. My efforts are better spent working on my life, rather than arguing pedantic and insufferable comments with strangers. With no romantic motivations, those social groups hold no value anymore.

There are a few lights dancing on the horizon, but they're faint, and if they become something of a romantic nature, I'll gladly embrace them, but at this point, hope is a luxury I can no longer afford.

Embrace the spinster, get a cat. Wait, I don't have time for a cat, I can't even keep my plant happy.

2.15.2016

Pure Exhuastion

Lately I've felt relatively good. That, in itself might normally qualify as good, but it does feel like things have gotten easier since the turn of the year.

My routine and exercise has really helped to keep my mood lifted. Partially because I'm enjoying how my body feels and seeing the changes it's going through. It helps me have a feeling of agency over things, which is normally lacking. That said, it hasn't been tested really.

That changed today. I took up a new job and started today. The commute is about two hours out of a day, the job length is about eight. Leaving me about four hours of a day to do what I want, before I can get a reasonable amount of sleep. I don't mind being busy, really, but the sheer amount of time that having a job sucks out of you is infuriating. I find it amusing that after studying Capitalism for six years, I'm now one of the biggest opponents to it. It's done nothing for me, or my generation except ruin our lives. I digress.

On my way into this office this morning I get a call from my mother. It wasn't unexpected, as I got one from my father the day before wishing me luck, and good vibes on my first day. The tone in her voice was off, which I initially attributed to it being early in the morning. She would later tell me that her mother had died in the night.

It's a mixed sensation. We've known she had a terminal illness for the last ten years, and it's steadily gotten worse. I'm glad she's at peace. I had a chance to see her last month and didn't take it. I don't, really regret this though. Her and I didn't get along that well when I was a child, and we continued to drift apart due to her awful behavior, and my refusal to enable her shitty behavior. 

Normally I'd have gone, knowing she didn't have time left, but I just didn't have the emotional energy after dealing with an ending relationship at the same time. I could hear the disappointment in the conversation she had with my mother when she was told I wasn't coming. I feel guilty over that, but, then I remember all the awful things she's said to me, my cousin, and my brother over the years.

The dead don't get pardoned by virtue of being dead.

Still, I feel bittersweet about the whole thing. My mom said not to worry about coming down to the funeral since it was still my first week at a new job. It makes me wonder what the family will think.

Which brings me to an interesting cross roads. She died, literally, from a disease she got on the job. Work killed her. Here I am, starting a new job, wasting 70% of my daily schedule, and for what?

So I can feel upbeat and guilty that I still make more than my friends at a paltry thirty-eight thousand a year?

It all just feels so futile, and, pointless. Especially when you come home to an empty apartment, too tired to think.

2.09.2016

The gathering storm: Or getting my shit together.

Next week I start work at a new gig. It's been six months since I was last employed. While I'm excited to start a new process, I'm depressed by my financial situation. I'll survive, but it's that area between being poor enough for assistance and rich enough to live comfortably. It will manage for now, somehow.

It is on one hand, a great relief to not have to worry about money, but at the same time a great new stress to deal with.

It continues. After four or so years my therapist is leaving her current practice, which means I now get to reestablish myself with a new therapist. She's been arguably the longest running relationship I've had since moving here (granted I pay her for it). Still, it's a sad and tedious thing to have to re-engage in. Another emotional labor tax that I'll have to deal with.

In an effort to push the boundaries of my comfort, I've started going out to to events I'd normally be uncomfortable at. This started with a few Kink parties, and engaging in pick-up play (play with people I don't know well or at all). It's so far been okay, and enjoyable, even if I have to fake my attraction to people. They beat me, I enjoy it, we thank each other, and I pretend we'll do it again sometime. There is no desire for them in my life however. They're great people I'm sure, but I've just, no urge for them. The endorphine drop kicks in and I cry myself to sleep.

The urge, is for someone who doesn't want me. I think about her anytime I'm hit with something, I think about her anytime a cane or hand bruises my flesh. I think about her anytime someone mentions the word collar, or talks about a cage. I think about her when I walk through downtown, when I eat dark chocolate. When I work out, and when I take photos of my body. When I check social media, and when I cry.

That's...just life. So, so much of my life can be described as painful unrequited longing. Avarice, pure and simple. It isn't a longing for something better than what I have, it's a longing for a life that is better than mine. A refusal to accept the mediocrity and pain that is my daily life can't be changed.

That urge is one reason I've started the journey of exercise to change my body into something desirable. Childish fantasies of being good enough for an ex aside, it's helped with the depression. Feeling agency over my body is a nice feeling. Along with it though, has seen a reemergence of an aggressive and domineering energy. It's a very angry emotion, rooted in frustration and strength. It's a damaging emotion based in that avarice. That I have to deal with the enormity of this existence of strife, while so many unworthy others have it so easy. The anger at that unfair comparison is a tremendous source of energy and strength that I've rarely tapped into. Mostly due to it's ugly and aggressive nature.

In the midst of improving my situation, I find there's just more shit to gather. I clean up one pile, and another pile oozes out of the cracks for me to sort through and clean up. A great part of me wants to descend into a bottle and never come out again. Anything to make this easier, anything to get her off my mind.

Sometimes I do really wish I could rip people out of me. It would be worth the massive scaring.

And then tomorrow, I dawn my mask of my best self, and pretend that graceful creature is who I really am. I can wear her for a while, pretend her soft flesh and strength, ease of grace and elegance, are yy own, but both of us know I'm an imposter.