The Great Intolerable Fear of the Unknown.

Apologies for the lack of updates. I've been struggling for topics to write about and mostly been delving in escapism as my mechanism. However writing is really the best form for this. The big news is that the plans for my surgery are underway. Deposit money is being moved and the real make or break point is approaching. Which really brings out a lot of other emotions and fear around this. I'm afraid of this and I'm afraid of what is coming. This is something I feel I should do, the discomfort I've had with my lady bits has been well known. I've referred to it as a cancer before, as a deformity. There is no love lost there. Yet, in the past year or two it's become less of the epitome of symbolism for all of my struggle in being trans. Before, when I first started this, there was an unspeakable amount of rage and anger, frustration, and disgust at being trans. The grief and anger over why I have this injustice and others do not. There was no greater symbol of that than the bits themselves.

It was a constant reminder. It IS a constant reminder. But lately as my relationship with my partner has bloomed, it's become less of a harsh reality, and less on the forefront of my mind. I don't face that rejection from it as often, or as harshly as I did when I was single. This makes me question my desires, and my relationship with my body.

I'm trying to be objective in my decisions, and at least remove as much doubt and emotional instability as possible. Being partnered, and having function left (many trans folk don't) means I've gotten to enjoy an aspect of my body that previously has been uncomfortable (and still is at times). Now that the time has come to decide what to do with it, how do I value that?

I have to learn how to have sex with my partner again, something that we've both been comfortable/compatible with. Meaning this will put strain on our relationship as we both relearn how my body works. And there is risk that if we aren't sexually compatible, that things might have to change for the worse.

I worry that once this is done I won't be satisfied. I worry that I won't be able to feel anything, that it will be ugly or unrecognizable. I worry about something happening. I worry that I'll regret it and that I'll regret not being able to penetrate my partner in the way I used to be able to. I worry about it being a waste of money, and I worry that I don't want it badly enough.

For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a lesbian. Why then am I having such doubt over this change? So then, the better questions is why then am I still going through with it? For one, I doubt my peace with myself. If my partner and I were to split up I can easily see this becoming the symbol and anguish generating source it once was. My current state of acceptance I believe has less to do with my lack of desire to see it removed, than my being distracted from it. As in, if my partner wasn't in the picture, I would have a huge desire to see this through. Just because I may not have he utmost of hatred and loathing for it now (now that I've another use for it) that doesn't mean said sentiment is gone.

In talking to my friend who's had the procedure done before, her opinion was such that any result was better than what she currently had. That, was my same sentiment in starting this transition. When looking at this now, are my bits objectively worth keeping over the potential for a bad result? Further more, in the laundry list of situations, feelings, emotions, placements, and minute uncomfortabilities that enumerate my experience, is the sum of said things greater, than the enjoyment and pleasure I get out of penetrating my partner.

Looking further into that, is it the act of penetration, or the closeness and emotional connection that the act brings that I enjoy. Assuming that pleasurable sex and orgasms will be had either way, why the reluctance to give up something I have for something that is slightly different given ceteris paribus? Which brings me back to the fear of the unknown. Not knowing what the results will be is of grave portent in regards to my comfort and sexuality.

Looking at this through the lenses of my education it's easy to see my bias in overvaluing what I have now. Still, this risk and discomfort associated with not knowing is proving to be significant. At least, more than I thought I would have at this point. I will muddle along however, under the idea that objectively, it is the right choice even if I'm terrified of taking the risk.

Oracles

I guess the remembrance aspect is what I'm stuck on. How can other people remember an aspect of myself that has never existed, and how in doing so can they relate said stories without it feeling somehow superficial. Is it a point that I should, suspend my disbelieve, so to speak on?

This whole idea of a wake, is a bit trying for me. It makes sense to me, but at the same time, these people who are there to try and help me move through the grieving process can't possible know what that aspect is or who or how it would have been different. How do I reconcile that while trying to take it for what it is, am I in any better a position to say that any one story would have been different or any other given way? Does any story necessarily have to be as I say it is? I don't think so.

If I'm going to try and get through this, then it's going to take a willingness on my part to believe in what that life could have been. Perhaps the stories are just as real as any other, who am I to say that anything would or wouldn't have happened had I not been born trans. They are more just stories of a different dimension, and that doesn't invalidate them. In this dimension, I'm disfigured in comparison, from who I was in what In that existence. I've been cursed with said knowledge of that existence and of the potentiality that existed in not being disfigured.

My original hope was to get to a point where being trans didn't matter. But, I feel, lately, that it will always matter. I'll always be underprivileged and devalued for my trans status, even post surgery. It's coming to terms with the acceptance of that, and the anger, frustration, depression, and sadness that comes from knowing that through no action of your own, you've been branded with a disfigurement. (note, that I'm using that as a term to indicate a physical deformation from an original, not to exaggerate the supposed lack of attraction).

Which, raises the question, do other minorities feel the same anger of their lack f privilege and hardships, or is it something unique to the trans spectrum do to the proximity of being cisgender? My inkling is that the anger is more due to the reasoning, if there was a reason, or a way to identify how it happened, it may at least make sense. Children of racial minorities have no real genetic chance of being non-minorities. There is yet to be any strong genetic reasoning for trans people, thus it feels like a random curse to be afflicted with, and prompts a response of unjustification and outrage.

There is no rhyme or reason and thus it doesn't make sense. If there's no reason, then why should I have to suffer? There in lies the issue. One cannot look beyond a reason one doesn't understand.

While I can try to rationalize how an elephant got into my house, I'll never know really. So now then I have to adjust and mourn and process without ever really knowing how or why. There is no closure in a process that has no purpose or beginning. So, then, how does one find closure in being a random victim to a curse.

That in, is the purpose of the whole event. I guess the real question is how will this go. How do you provide closure for being cursed, and let go of what was that life, the other dimensions, or the realm of possibilities that had existed.

I need to buy some super glue.

What am I doing. This seems to be the question I find myself asking over and over and over again. No matter what I end up doing I never seem to find any sort of semblance or respite that says, "yes, this is what you should be doing with your life". This, then, causes some significant depression because everything seems to be the same. I feel no great emotional sway towards any one direction. The abivilance and drunken wanderings I committ to my person are largely from a lack of any feedback on what I'm doing. It all seems muted and desaturated. The reason for this, and how to get around it has been something I've been working on for a good while.

The recent idea, is that the greif and process of my dealing with my being trans, has sucked the emotional life out of me. That is, until that grief is dealt with in its entirety, that all of my emotional strength and direction is put into dealing with that. In other words all of my strength is put into holding myself together, and while I'm doing such I can't much look outside to see where to go.

I've no idea how to accomplish that task. While I deal with my trans issues, and the massive amounts of anger that comes with it, I don't know how to vent that without destroying myself in the process. In that same token, even during bouts of emotional relapse, I keep people at bay from really allowing myself to grieve. I believe this is done partly to as to avoid having them be unloaded upon, but also to prevent myself from going to an emotional extreme, along with large swaths of insecurity and not trusting people.

The thought is that then, if I can get that far, possible find a way to vent that, I'll be happier and less self-structure focused, along with being able to find some direction in which to take my life. More of an ability  to find my dreams and accomplish them. This versus the current which is endless distraction and emotional numbing from the emotional muscle-cringing process of holding a knife to one's self to make sure you don't fall apart.

 

That said, I find myself hungering for something, but I don't know what it is. Some sort of passion, and for some reason I just can't seem to find it. Part of this can (and likely is) due to my recurrent and stealthy depression sneaking into to fuck with my head. Still, it is unnerving.

The Tumultuous Turmoil of Tinkering

Things are tumultuous. My days are ranging from a physically sickening level of depression and feelings of lost helplessness, to being okay and nigh bearable. I've increased the frequency of my therapy sessions to once a week until I can get out of this fog. In addition, my acupuncture and massage therapy seems to be helping, at least on the days I have them.

I've been taking Sundays as a self care day that prohibits sitting on my computer for extended periods of the day. I believe one of the main issues is one that I've faced previously. When I first started therapy a few years ago to deal with my depression, I couldn't figure out who I was, I didn't know what I enjoyed, or liked, and nothing felt like fun. I find myself facing the same feelings.

I've begun to loath myself for my laziness, and my addiction to escapism. I refuse to play my guitar, to try to compose anything, to draw, or write, or sing, or anything because I know I won't be any good at it. I'm approaching it as a means to and end, rather than as an activity to enjoy for the sake of doing the activity. it is the same petty childish mindset that paralyzed me as a teenager. The "I can't be perfect, so I'm not going to try" sense of fatalistic self-deprecation that keeps me attuned to depressions and infatuations with all I can't do, rather than what I can. I get so wrapped up in my lack of ability to achieve my end goal/desire/validation, that I forget the reason I started doing it in the first place.

If I had spent as much time as I do playing games, doing some form of art, I'd likely be a master at it. Games have a level cap, there is an attainable end goal, which, I guess is one reason they appeal to me. Life, itself has an end goal. The mortality aspect of life means at some point we all finish. My obsession with this seems to be a similar motif. Focusing on end goals and achievements, rather than the act or journey itself for the fun of it.

The theory behind all this is fairly simple, but the applications towards my behaviors and mindsets are much more stubborn. If you were to imagine my identity as a pie chart, I'd say a good 65-70% is taken up by my identity as a trans-woman. This, is almost always a negative aspect, as being trans largely fucking sucks 98% of the time. The rest, that 30%, is at any time taken up by various other identities, hobbies, relationships, and anything else you might attribute to intrapersonal or external stimuli. The two parts (internal/external identities) are largely intertwined and a depression/trauma in one can cause the other to collapse, exacerbate, or respond in a similar way.

You can see this in my lack of satisfaction in my personal life, which largely leads to my focusing on my lack of satisfaction in who I am as a person. It comes down to how I look at things, I see negatives easier than I see positives. Chalk that up to whatever you will, but I have situated myself on a precarious mountainside slope. It is vastly easier for momentum and gravity to carry me downward in a snowballing effect of depression and negative emotions. Likewise, pulling myself up, in a positive way feels unnatural for me, it is a struggle and requires far greater amounts of work the more alone I feel.

It is, however, definitely easier to climb the mountain with people helping me. I know, this is an unpopular statement, and considered a red flag for some. People say "you should be content to be alone, before you try being in a relationship". That is fine and dandy if you're perfect. If you've no emotional problems or mental illness (which depression most certainly is). Personally, I find it bullshit. Humans are social creatures, we die if we are isolated long enough. We all want and desire to have friends, partners, relationships, and families. I do NOT think the desire for that, or the need for that, is a bad thing. Nor do I find that inherently abusive, addictive, or problematic. I consider myself a broken clock. I require a little elbow grease and work, but can be polished nicely, and end up being a rewarding, lovely, and entirely fantastic experience.

The ability to be content by one's self, to me, definitely feels like a privilege of the healthy, wealthy, cisgender, and untroubled. It is easy to be content with yourself, when you aren't constantly at war with yourself over things you have no ability to change, but the utmost paramount and salient desire to do so.

SO, that rant aside, the schematics of my emotional framework on display. Where, do I go from here?

The state of things, and ongoing.

I originally wrote this on another site, here it is, in the original form. I have added updates at the bottom.

I've delayed writing this for a while. I've put off
writing in general because I know it isn't what people will want to
read. I'm doing it here, now, because I'm avoiding showing it to people.
This will go up on the blog, it is just a matter of when. I'm writing
it out now, in preparation for a therapist appointment, and as a form of
public shaming.

Starting on New Years, I've been struggling with some very deep
depression, exhaustion, disassociation, self-mutilation, and suicidal
fantasies.

I'm stuck trying to figure out what purpose my life has, and why I
should bother with it. I'm exhausted in dealing with the mediocrity that
my life. I'm tired of my gender being a constant struggle. I'm tired of
the metaphors of surgeries and used car dealers (even if you get what
you want it's still not as good as what you want). I'm tired of it all.
I'm tired of the conversations I am forced to have, and I'm tired of the
negotiations involved in any sexual encounter. It's like playing Guess
Who? before anything fun.

I'm tired of my job, I'm tired of the sameness, of everything. Of the
monotony of everyday life. And I'm ready to take my ball, and go home.
It is not fair that I should have this burden, when I've done nothing
wrong. It is

On New Years eve, I was triggered early in the morning, worked a half
day, and then went to Walgreens to pick up a prescription, and some
shaving razors. While there, I stood, for a good 5 minutes staring at a
package of straight razors, and ended up buying them.

I wasn't upset, or emotional, I was dissociative (a strange headspace
where I feel a bit half conscious, most things lose color, my breathing
goes shallow and I just, don't feel anything). I went and drew a bath
as I was wanting to shave my legs before the events of that night.

The idiocy, of taking newly bought straight razors into a warm bath,
was not lost on me. I was in there for an hour, weeping, often
uncontrollably, until I finally ended up just shaving my legs and
bathing. I did end up re-cutting a design into my leg with said razors
however (hence the photo I posted recently). If you saw me
limping/wincing on New Years, that was why.

Since, I've had a few fantasies, but haven't engaged any actual
behaviors. Anyway, that is the current state of things. Depending on
what my therapist says things may change, I'm just not sure what else to
do.

---

Since this, things are still in a strange area. I'm not as low at the moment, but that can easily change. I'm hesitant to release myself from that place and identity of depression because of how volatile it can be. I don't want to go around saying, "oh hey everyone, I'm fine now" even though I may not feel as low, because it is so easy to fall back into it. It feels disingenuous to communicate to people that I'm alright, when I am at the time, on a Micro level feeling better, yet haven't not positioned myself in a better place on a Macro sense of self.  In short, I dislike the idea of crying wolf.

I have started a new plan of treating my body, rather than fighting it. I've plans to begin a few services (massage/acupuncture at the moment) to try and align my body with a more pleasurable sensations/mood than the normal dysphoric feelings of animosity and hatred. Not in that, those aren't still omnipresent, but they don't have to be the only experiences.

This, is in contrast to external relationships which seem even harder to come by now than before. I've been blown off, dismissed, de-appetized, overlooked, and passed over by just about every potential romantic interest I have yet to find. I grow extremely weary of it. I've long said that those who have a desire, will make the time for it. Yet, again and again and again I find I have to pursue, I have to call and remind, I have to rearrange, and schedule, plan, over-plan, and berate to simply get a date setup. It is exhausting, humiliating, frustrating, degrading, and intensely dissatisfying. Much to the point that I've given up on trying to motivate other people into action.

I find my appetite for gaming is decreasing as well. I find this a good habit to get into as there are many other, and more productive areas in which I can direct my energies. My guitar sits lonely and cold by itself, unplayed, for months. Outside of that, romantically, it would seem I've to hit the dregs in search of a diamond again. Maybe I can at least drink myself into a stupor on the way to the bottom of that barrel.

Year end.

So, upfront, this will likely be long and wandering. I will make an attempt to clean it up and reorganize my thoughts once I am done.

The holidays are over (mostly) and I find myself relieved, but, depressed. It was good to see my family, even if they forget to check their cis-privilege at times and stressed me out. I was glad to see my brother again, but I realize we are different people now, and I have no idea who he is. Likewise, he really doesn't know me at all. Yet, still thinks I'm that angry 18 year old kid who hated the world and everything in it.

I'm not that person anymore. I am still very angry at things, but it is channeled, and focused onto things rather than at everyone. My family relationship has, and will likely always be strained. Unlike them, I didn't spend my childhood and adolescence knowing and loving my family. I spent it hiding who I was and creating disinformation. Trying as hard as possible to keep them at a distance.

Still, I am relieved to see them leave. Bringing people up to see my city can be exhausting. Hopefully next time things will be more relaxed and I can simply enjoy the company, rather than be inundated with a schedule of events and tasks we have to do.

The other cause of dread this time, is that I'm a romantic/cancer. I place a significant importance on dates, and anniversaries. New Years day was the day I fell in love with my ex, and I'm dreading what reliving the day will mean to me now. The joy, and love that I felt won't be there, and that haunts me. I know we aren't compatible, and that is alright with me, but I still find myself thinking about her, and how I felt, at times. I have moved on from her, but I'm still tentatively avoiding testing my will and strength around her.

There are a few other romantic interests on the horizon, but, I don't place a lot of hope or potential in them. Not in that they lack possibility, just that the energy level being directed towards me is low, and thus I reflect an equally low response.

Things, on a whole, feel...foggy. This marks another end of the year, and I haven't anything to really show for it. I ate a lot of food, I payed off bills, I worked...and for what? My life still seems as empty and hollow when I lay my head down at night. I still have nightmares and bad dreams. My dysphoria is still quite bad, and I seemed to have developed a nice eating disorder on top of it. I did start seeing a therapist and that seems to help, if not force me to talk about things instead of brooding. I still can't seem to find a point to anything however. The isolation and loneliness is omnipresent, and endless. Life as a whole just seems fundamentally without purpose. Do X to be able to do Y, because it makes you feel Z. When asked if there was anything I enjoy, I can't name anything. There are things that are nice, but, nothing that on a whole I would take over a painless quick death.

I say that not, as someone angry at the world and wanting to leave (I am), but simply as someone who sees no point in it. We all die at some point, so, why should my death not be planned and carried out by myself? I can think of nothing more sanctified than that. It scares me, it scares the shit out of me, and that is likely the only reason I don't actively jump off a bridge. But, I would love for walking out into traffic to not sound like the perfect ending to a regular work day.

I realize this is abnormal thought behavior. But it doesn't seem to be motivated on animosity, or pity, or deprecation. It is not "woe is me, I hate my life, so I'm taking my ball and going home". It feels more like watching a game, that is destined to never end, and all the players seem to not realize they are playing the same meaningless game as everyone else. It all seems so material, and physical, with no real connection, or higher meaning.

Perhaps it is to do with the disconnect I have with my body. I feel sensations from it, but It doesn't feel like "me". It feels like a vessel I have been placed trapped within. Thus death would be a release from said prison, rather than the ending of an altogether not unpleasant existence. But, then hypothesizing, if I had been born cisgender, would I still feel life is a pointless existence? It is hard for me to imagine, but my thoughts point to yes.

In my last therapist sessions we rooted down an importance I place on being desirable (discussions on eating disorders). I believe I get some validation from this, but, at the same time, I get no joy from the catcalls and guys trying to hit on me. They all know I'm trans (those that try to pick me up) but, I just feel nothing for them, and thus don't really care. Hints of my inner lesbian, obviously, but that still doesn't explain why such an importance on being desirable. My best guess is that I see it as a attack on the loneliness. Getting people to see past my issues is a large step, one that most people won't be are less willing to take if I'm not at least partially pretty to look at.

So, rooting that down, it comes to being isolated, and alone, my dislike, displeasure, and distaste for it. I've said before I been alone for most of my life, and it seems true to me. There has never been a great deal of connection between myself and other people. It all feels, numb, or muted. There is something there, but it is very small and sparse.

I just, I don't know what to do anymore. Even when I was with my ex, and things were going well, I thought of suicide as it seemed appropriate to go out on a highnote. That...seems abnormal, but I don't know of any way around that idea. When even the best of times feel meaningless, what is a person left to do?

A referendum on choice

I'm not sure where to begin. I feel utterly lost, and helpless. I look back at my city as I walk home, and ask myself what the fuck am I doing here. I can't help but keep my frustration and anger at a minimum and dive fully into escapism. Walking home has become a trial of how long I can hold back my tears until I can find another venture to stick my brain into. Books, games, movies, television, other people. It is all just one form of escapism or another, and nothing really alleviates the prime issues.

I am still unable to find a reason, something that gives my life meaning. I just don't understand why I am doing this, or anything. What is the point? I work, so that I can provide for myself, until my body dies anyway. That implies some sort of benefit from being alive, which, I fail at the moment to comprehend or understand.

I feel old habits returning again. meh. I honestly can't be bothered to care anymore.

The Inherent Gravity

I am very much forcing this entry. I have not been in the mood to write, despite knowing I should. It is hard to pin down where I stand these days. One day, I'm a fucking mess, getting emotionally triggered shakes and enraged beyond belief. So utterly pissed and frustrated that even thinking about my situation tenses my arms and sends me into tears. The next, I'll feel tolerable, confident, awake, and ready to slit the throat of anyone who would dare cross me.

I believe I've come to a point where I know things are gone with my ex. I just have to reiterate to myself why, and how, and the plethora of reasons we aren't together. What we had was an infatuation, I've no other words for it. I understand what triggers those emotions in me, and having been there, I know now what I'm looking for. I won't however, tolerate the rest of everything that happened. I've seen the type of person ze thinks I am, and I know I'm not that person. I'm done trying to convince or alter opinions.

In a sense, this is back to the drawing board. I feel like I'm resetting everything and starting fresh. Which, is nice, but at the same time, it feels exhausting.

I'm complimented, a lot. I get told regularly how attractive I am, I get cat called, and pass with ease. Yet, every time people do compliment me, I can't help but feel I'm queen of the trans girls. As in, "Yes, I'm quite pretty, for a trans girl". Whether or not they mean it, I add it on whenever they leave it off. Yes, I am pretty, but I still feel like I'm winning the special Olympics. This becomes extremely apparent to me around other trans girls who don't pass as well as I do. I notice things, the most minute details that they have forgotten, yet that I've picked up. How to walk, carry one's self, posture, demeanor, not pitch of voice, but tone, intonation, the list is endless. It just, furthers my feelings of isolation, that sense of better than the undesirables, but not good enough to be wanted outright. The first pick for a second choice.

I don't know what the answer is. Let me be clear that I don't feel I am better than anyone else, simply because I pass easier.

I'm, just exhausted from being frustrated and angry, all the time. I'm exhausted of having to presume most people aren't interested in me, even if they are into girls, simply because they won't be into the type of girl I am. You'd think being trans was like being a drug addict or a child molester. And people scoff, question, and deride me for not wanting to tell people I'm trans, when I'm post op. Why the fuck would I? Yes, let me voluntarily make myself more undesirable. I've had enough rejection in my life, thanks.

The anger, the pain, and all that lot aren't gone. I know they are hiding around the corner for me. I've no more reason to continue on than I did last week, but, at least now it's because the so called journey that is life, that so many people seem to just be able to enjoy without effort, is full of shit and pain. Not because it isn't filled with an addictive emotional high triggered by an ignorant girl pulling on strings with no idea of what black holes they were attached to.

Diagnosis

My nightmares continue, with varying degree of intensity. I'm not quite sure just what to make of them. Everyone seems to have differing opinions of what they mean, and I have my own. I've asked my brother, randomly, after the night before last's had me wake up crying. Having these is very unusual for me, and I can't say I care for them. Still, writing them down, and trying to get to the bottom of them has been ...interesting. I digress however, as the dreams merely set my tone.

Things ....just are. I'm not sure in what direction every day goes. I've since moved in with some friends of mine, and for the time being we are coexisting just fine. That may change when they find someone to eventually take over this room (and pay their share of the rent) and I'm forced to then share a marginally larger room. For now though, I'm trying quite hard not to dwell on things, and keep the brooding at bay as best I can.

I find myself in new situations that I'm not sure I'm comfortable with in terms of emotional security. I think what I'm afraid of is being yet again unrequited, or uncherished. Something that I see happening pretty commonly with the people I've known in the kink community before. I'm looking for that in depth emotional relationship, and while I can provide that in spades, I'm afraid if I do so, I'll not get it back in return. This complicates things with my asexuality. Where as some people find it easy to have multiple partners, and play with multiple people, I simply am not attracted to most other people, and thus have no real urge or motivation to be involved with them.

This all would be largely not an issue, if I weren't so attached to someone. I don't like falling, not like this. I feel helpless in it, and it scares me. Which, is fairly twisted to have a submissive romantic being scared of someone their attracted to their attraction to someone. I find myself inventing ways to distance myself from hir in case something happens. In some ways it's fascinating being so attracted to someone for the first time, but it also terrifies me.

I'm not going out of my way to find meaning where there isn't any, or artificially inflate a new relationship simply because it exists. I don't think my attraction is symbolic, or that fate or any other large laissez-faire motion is behind it. However I do find it significant in the history of my life. I find myself falling into habits I've never done before, things I noticed my partners doing in previous relationships, but never did myself. (I'm hugely guilty of staring uncontrollably like a school girl).

So, while I have tried hard not to be bothered by things, I do find myself worrying about my own emotional security. I'm beginning to suspect that my feelings are a bit more advanced as well, but that could be simple communication issues. I often find myself trying to find meaning in simple gestures. Waiting for hir to initiate contact, simple things, that I know I blow out of proportion and don't really mean much more beyond what I assign them in meanings. The problem lies in that I'm wanting them to mean things, in which they really don't. If I desired communication I can simply ask for it and get it, but trying to decipher hir meanings and feelings through the internal debate over who initiates the first contact of any given day is teenage, immature, and childish. I know this, but still find myself doing it. Another habit new to me, worrying.

I know I can't manifest feelings where there are none, or exacerbate them into any more genuine or intense to match mine. Mine are mine, and hir's are hir's, regardless. However I do think I'm downplaying how intense my feelings are to myself, to hir.

This intensity seems both amazing and premature. I find it highly suspect for occurring in such a short period of time. Normally my attractions occur much later (if ever) and my courtships are much longer (and drawn out), but at the same time, I've not felt such an intensity for a long time, if ever, and that has me bewildered, befuddled, and really fucking confused. My fears revolving around such are that said feelings won't be returned in kind, the hurt that lies therein, and also that these feelings, once gone, will never return if said happens.

Though, being in the poly community, I begin to wonder if this revolves around my fundamental failure to understand how polyamoury truely works. I find myself asking if love is a limited thing. Is it a finite resource that can be spread thinly among a few people, or intensely to just on person. Or, contrary, is it an infinite resource for people who can have intense emotional relationships with more than one person. From one who rarely has them to begin with, the idea of having multiple is flabbergasting and insane to me. My inexperience in such can easily be the source of this insecurity and the associated behaviors. Being one who finds most people unattractive, and most relationships to be close emotional bonds with no actual attraction or emotional intensity, the finding and discovery of such, can, and does, often feel overwhelming.

There in, lies the issues and catharsis. While no one is an island, in and un to themselves. These days, I find the ocean that separates one person from another is greater than all the miles between the stars in the sky. With the only petty tools we have to share emotional ideas being our own imperfect communication, I find it miraculous that anyone ever finds love at all without falling apart into the shambles of insecurity and uncertainty. But then, Maybe I'm just that poor trans girl who still believes no one will ever truely love her.

Machinations

The routine of things is starting to get to me. I find in my escapism I loose track of entire days at a time. I don't find this to be positive. I don't think I've actually sat and thought about life in a couple of months. It is just too painful to do at the moment. I've moved on from strangers who can't handle transwomen. It isn't that I think it won't hurt me next time, but more that the pain from that experience has been buried and healed over. As things are want to do.

My family life is deteriorating. My ability to care about the elder members is severely diminished, even the lamentations of my mother seems to fall on deaf ears these days. I just can't seem to find any capacity to really care about such terrible people. My mother in particular seems to prove to me that she has no concept of integrity at every turn.  My cousins, and my brother, and the only relatives I really muster up feelings for. I believe this is mainly because they have much better character traits even among their vices.  They have their issues, but they aren't ones to judge. I still don't feel any real connection to them, but I don't actively wish to disassociate with them like I do the rest of the family.

I've been flirting with people lately, mainly those who I know will reciprocate, even in vain. I'm not quite sure what is driving me to seek their reassurance. Perhaps it is just nice to enjoy the company of others now and then. My other relationships, one in particular, are tentatively disruptive and disturbing. It isn't that I wish harm to this person, I just have no desire to actively be around or involved with hir at this point in my life. I think it is still too painful.

In the meantime, I'm aching to leave Texas. It seems I can't leave soon enough. The job search however seems to keep pushing me back to square one, no matter how fruitful a particular lead or position seems to be. I know this is something I must get used to, job searching it seems is a definition in futility and frustration. It is difficult to not let the excitement of possibility and the frustration of disappointment get to me. In addition, I have trouble expressing the negative emotions because I don't want to let it get to me since it is likely going to happen multiple times.

My depression is still in a strange...unusual hidden state. I am attributing this to my living conditions, I don't feel normal while I'm in this house. I feel like I've regressed into my actress stage where I pretend nothing bothers me and everything is fine. This repression tends to erupt violently and I'm dreading what happens when it does. That said, this house is not good for me, and I may find ways to leave it for good regardless of employment or specific deadlines. I know my mother thinks I'm joking when I talk about working the street, I don't think she grasps my distaste for this environment. It sickens me to be here, and to see what it is doing to me.

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.

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.

Obligations

Oh the holidays, what a useless period of time. I'm actually a big fan of what the holidays stand for, but it is another one of those things that I seemingly do without. The holidays are in general a huge source of conflict for me. While I'm grateful that my family relatives accept me for who I am, there is a growing disconnect between them and my life. The more time that passes, the less I feel any connection with them in my life. Aside from their support, and blood relation, I really don't see a binding tie between us. I just get this lingering feeling that they don't understand, and that something is missing. Looking back it seems that the notion of family left around sometime in my teenage years.

Specifically on Thanksgiving, it has become more and more about the food for me, and since it is usually pretty crappy food, I see no real desire to go outside of obligations. This is a notion that I think carries through to the rest of my relatives. People arrive, eat/finish the preparations, wait around for ten minutes, then leave. No one really wants to be there, they simply have to be out of obligations. Which makes me wonder what the point really is aside from keeping up some asinine gesture towards being a normal family, when, we aren't really at all. Everyone keeps secretes from each other, no one says what they mean, or secretly want. All of my relatives keep each other at such a huge distance that, I just can't help but feel isolated from them.

Which brings me to connections, love, really. I think about those that I truely care for, the people who alter my existence by simply being in my life. When I apply this to my relatives, there really is nothing beneficial there outside of financial support. Yes, I know they love me, but lately, I find that this is more because we are relatives, and not simply because we love each other. If they were just another couple, taking in a poor transgirl, I don't think my perspective or feelings would change much. This differs greatly from the people I consider my family, who inspire me to greatness, and make me want to be a better person.

So, the holidays feel more like a hassle, given the process I have to dance around to satisfy both sides of my relatives. It simply has no meaning left for me anymore, between the materialization, bad food, false pretenses and fake emotions, I really see no harmony in the season.

This lies on top of my own issues with family, and the feelings of loneliness that accompanies everything. There isn't anyone among my family that understands my issues, what it is like to be unable to bear children, for example, or dealing with hate groups and systemic discrimination. This all just leads to a feeling of alienation.

Lastly, I get feelings of guilt built up from everyone. From my friends who are envious that I get to spend time with my relatives, or indirectly from other transpeople who don't have families that accept them, or are no longer around. I get pushed from everyone to participate in these holidays because apparently one day they will no longer be around. Yet, for me, they haven't been around, nor will they be around, for me. They are just strangers who share DNA. In exchange for financial support (for the time being) I give them a the time of day, and my presence, for a little while if nothing more.

I feel no greater connection than that, which, as we know, is quite lonely. I think it is more, simply, time to move on with my life. I know, better than most, what a true family is, and what it is not.

Nonhuman

I've needed to write for a while just to ..explain the insanity that was last weekend. I wrote about Friday's events, but had no idea the theme of complete overwhelming insanity was going to continue. So stick around as this one will probably be a bit lengthy.

Saturday.

The importance of Saturday lies in the evening, so I'll skip there but just mention that I woke up that morning feeling like I normally had, like shit. Having this continue through the evening left me restless. At one point I decided to opt out of escapism and simply lay down and ponder things. A while back my therapist had told me that depression is sometimes a coping mechanism for stressful situations. I focused on this and began listing all my issues. The first and foremost was what my plans were for post-graduation. So I then asked myself if I would continue to feel like shit if that was no longer an issue. The answer came back no, and when I realized that, instantly a tremendous weight lifted off me, and the fog that clouds over everything vanished. It was that quick and simple. I started to cry and the simply laughed at myself for a good while. The overall simplicity of knowing what triggers my moods, and being in control of them is a powerful thing. I woke up the next day feeling absolutely amazing.

Now, that isn't to say things are all rainbows and puppies. There is still an isolation and loneliness that chills me. However the chill doesn't penetrate me to the core like it used to a week ago. I still battle with the same feelings I had before, but the direness and hopelessness are gone. I've still no real idea on what I'm going to do, but not having that weight makes things much easier.

Sunday.
As I said earlier, I woke up feeling amazing. Later on that evening, I was dragged out by some friends of mine to go make/eat smores by a campfire just outside my apartment. Unfortunately for me, the group of people out there was not made up of what I would call "humans". When we got to the campfire, the was a period of about thirty minutes before the comments began. They started off innocently enough, comments on my height, naturally. This however quickly degraded into blatant disrespect and insults. In short, one person felt he had a duty or right to unearth my deception, as that was what it inherently was to him, to everyone else. He thought he should be thanked and respected for "telling it how it is", or something to that degree. About the time that this started to really flare up, my friends who asked me out there began to interrupt the offender, and the entire process by which it was happening. This, to me, was probably the sweetest thing i've ever had done for me. However, their appetite had been wet, and they weren't going to drop the issue. We left shortly there after, but not before my friends made the primary offender apologize to me. This was of course, heavily forced, and used as a way to deny my identity by saying "I'm sorry, Man". With the emphasis on man.

The whole ordeal felt very humiliating. I felt very self conscious until I learned that they had been told beforehand of my status. While I was very glad to see people stick up for a trans girl, overall it felt shammed in general. I did defend myself to an extent, though it wasn't quite the loud, in your face, sort of defense it should have been. I ended up crying a little, and writing an interesting note about the ordeal that I will repost here. Writing that made me feel better, and put that negativity out there, instead of within me.

So, that brings you up to speed. I'm feeling rather up these days, as I mentioned earlier, it doesn't quite feel as good as it could. There is very much still an issue with emotional connection that is being unresolved. However, things have gotten much better than they were. In regards to the events on Friday, I think something of that nature might be enjoyable now, if I was a bit less intoxicated, and knew what to expect going in. Given my mental state at the time, it is not surprising how poorly I took it when that emotional connection was denied.

Tests

For the first time, in a long time, I'm beginning to feel genuinely frightened and anxious. Nervous and stressed, torn and unsure. I was talking to Denver the other day, and when I remarked on my infinite options, he said to let it set me free, and that some people would kill to have my situation. That didn't do much for me, despite his sweet motivation. I've been romanticizing him and our situation for something to hold onto. Some resemblance of structure or plan in my life. Some sort of direction, even if false, is better than nothing. Not that I'm opposed to the romantic intentions we've conjured up together, but on one level, I don't see them as entirely genuine. I think we exploit the significant barriers between us for excuses to be more endearing than our feelings truly merit. Why? Because we all like to have a romantic interest, no matter how distant or unfeasible, knowing that someone is out there who likes you, is a powerful crutch for an old wound.

It isn't just the workload, yes, it is more than I anticipated being my last semester of graduate school, but I can handle that in and of itself. Some of it is seeing old friends of mine drift farther and father away, knowing that despite my attempts, I can't keep them interested in being friends. There is nothing there to build that closeness anymore.

Overall I think some of it is simply feeling alone. I'm not sure why this feeling has crept up now more so than before, but even my closer friends seem more distant and..detached from me. I catch them doing things that offend me, or being innocently and ignorantly cruel, which is unlike them.

The large chunk of the anxiety is from not knowing what I'm doing once I graduate. As I said above, I've infinite possibilities before me, and aside from a few constraints, there is no wrong direction. I don't know what to do, and it is driving me mad. There is so much pressure to figure out what to do, and to do it fast. Yet at the same time unreasonable expectations are being made, I'm to find a job immediately and start working, when I'm young, inexperienced, and transgender. All three of these categories have very high relative rates of unemployment. I'm not using that as an excuse, but just as explanation as to why I'm expecting to encounter resistance. On the other side, there have been no listening ears to vent to. Hence, I'm left to vent my frustrations on here in some sort of relief. Lord knows I've no other outlets these days.

I really need to get over my little crushes. I've a terrible habit of getting hyper-romantic over straight female friends of mine from my past. In some instances I find myself wanting to block them completely so I don't have to see them, but I never manage to get that far. I suppose I'm looking for something in them, I'm looking for what I want to be.

wow....that's depressing. In the end, it boils down to the same insecurities, the same desires, and the same fears that I've always had. Body, mine, and the lack of any other.

Making Plans

Previously, I've mentioned how I spent much of my teenage years locking myself away behind doors and televisions. I'm also leaving my home for the last three years this semester. This leaves me wanting to go out and celebrate life as much as possible because it is the last bit of it here I will get. However, I have night classes, in which I'm in class when most people are ending their day. Normally this isn't an issue, however at times, like tonight, I end up wanting to go out and socialize, and get blown off and excused away to my apartment, to lock myself away behind doors and televisions. I find people who I still call my friends, don't even bother returning calls anymore. I guess I at least know where I stand. Soon enough I will simply drop them out of my life, I've no need of acquaintances.

In other depressing news!

Unfortunately, there is no way for me to alter my bone structure. At least, not to the extent I am wanting. Recently the body image issue that is cropping up is my broadness, the large shoulder bones and ribs. In mirrors I simply keep imagining my body with smaller shoulders and a thinner rib cage. Alas, there isn't anything I can do about it, but that still doesn't make me want to keep them. I suppose I'm waiting for my hips to fill out, or my behind...or my thighs, but that seems to be stalling out as it is. 

The other issue, is in trying to find or discover a female orgasm. It is possible, I've heard from people who had female orgasms before having any surgeries. I however, can't seem to find one (not for lack of trying). Anytime I do however, it is the same thing I've always had. I'm beginning to feel like I may not be able to, at the moment, nothing seems quit so depressing as that. I feel I tolerate many of the ...sacrifices I have to make in comparison to cisgender females. I can tolerate being slightly taller, slightly broader, slightly thinner, slightly less endowed. I struggle with having to shave, I wince at not being a mother, and I cringe at my genitals. I somehow manage to live with all of this, but trying and trying over and over again to find something that should be rightfully mine already and a non-issue, is unfair and unjust. It makes me feel like I am broken. (Well, more so).

Ants

School? Well I've got my priorities taken care of, but I did notice some people talking...pointing. I wish they would simply approach and ask, rather than gossip and wonder. I'm sure in enough time they will accept it, or at least get over the curiosity of it. I suppose I'm simply annoyed at being pointed at. It wasn't an oh my god what is that point, but instead an oh that girl over there? point. So, the lesser of two evils, but it is still rude.

I've had some body image issues pop back up. I'm not sure what it is, or why it triggers. I suppose it is just normal trans imperfections popping up into my focus. It isn't exactly enjoyable.

I had an interesting discussion with another trans friend of mine however. We were going over how we were before hand. He said I was standoffish, and brooding. Which, is true. What interested me though, was when describing our teenage struggles, I listed myself as a "denyer". I convinced myself that there was nothing I could do about my feelings, and since I couldn't be perfect, then I wouldn't even bother. This notion of absolutes is something I still deal with. It is the namesake of this blog (along with a slight alcoholic play on words). The notion that if something can't be an absolute, then it is better to not try. One of the major hurdles in my coming out was getting over this notion. I still remember thinking that if I didn't do something about this issue, it was going to kill me (an absolute), and that any action, was better than the situation I was in (another absolute).

Looking at it that way, makes me wonder if I ever got over the notion at all, or simply twisted it to fit my needs.

Bloodletting

I've been struggling with expressing myself. I finally picked up my guitar again, but I find it comes with the same problems that cause me to put it down so often. I can play on until my fingers bleed, but it never taps into the emotionality that I feel. I think this springs from a lack of creative capacity. Not that I can't write a melody, I know the scales and chords, I simply have trouble in hearing the next step. Where in another part is played. I've found I usually write the best working off or with someone else. A foundation to work with allows me to build, contrasted to just open possibility where I feel lost. I struggle to hear the whole sound of possibilities, while I can write my part, I can't hear beyond that.

It is something to work on, and perhaps just needs a different perspective.

Everything else is still rather...humid. In that, it is undesirable, unattractive, and ...sticky. I feel like I need a mental bath. That isn't to say things are bad, au contraire, things get easier everyday, I know that things will get better, I'm living for myself and without regard for the nonsense of other people. I feel very actualized, strong, and somewhat indifferent to drama. The humidity is in my boredom, loneliness, and apparent lack of inspiration. There are some other issues, but nothing too serious, and hopefully most will solved once classes start back up in a day or two.

In trans news, I've started looking into medical loans in order to move my projected completion date up. My goal is one major surgery by my 30th birthday, which is easily doable. However, if I can get all of them done, I will be ecstatic. With my SRS details ironed out, I'm now looking into FFS and a Trachea shave. Breast augmentation may be desired later on, but at the moment they fit my body very well, and I'm waiting to see how they fair on another year or two of hormones. The rub, lies in that I don't have accurate financial numbers for FFS or the shave. So I need to get some more accurate figures before settling on an action plan.

I have an ambitious five years ahead of me. It is doable, but, It is going to involve some serious decisions about the rest of my life.

Ignition

So in short, things are heavy in negative emotion, and while this has as such, taken me out of my funk of blah, it isn't quite the direction I had aimed to take things in.

Now, having calmed down, and after a fitting crying fiasco, things are a bit clearer.

Sadness, basically, I miss being close to people. Being single is not in my nature, and recent activities have reminded me of that. Outings into the social world that are often unproductive reinforce this. A recent experience left me feeling vulnerable and overexposed. I lied, and went against my true feelings to correct those issues (and save face). I am very much a girl of loose morals in that I offer myself up emotionally to just about anyone, and when they decline (naturally for not being interested), I feel rejected and ugly, unwanted, and without value.

The anger, is more complex. I haven't forgiven myself for not telling my parents sooner. I regret being a coward and not having the courage to tell them something was wrong. I resent myself for trying to fit in, for conforming to what I thought my family wanted, and not being who I really was, and new myself to be. I have resentment and animosity towards my parents for seeing clues and not asking/saying anything about it. In that same vein, I resent them for not making my home feel safe and secure. A home is supposed to be a place of security and love, and for the majority of my time there I felt isolated, alone, caged, unloved, and rejected. The overbearing notion I remember from my home life was that of feeling judged. My parents were figures of authority, and not loved ones I could confide in.

I'm not sure where to go from here, getting it out of me is a start, but, anytime I try to vent this, there is a seemingly endless supply of rage to the question of "why me?". Why is this my journey. It isn't fair that I've this path when so many others do not. While I do have some great friends, I still can't help but feel they don't quite understand what it is like. This again, leaves me feeling alone, and isolated.

So to answer my own question a while back, why do I wear my heart on my sleeve so often? Because I've lived alone since I was born, emotional isolation and a lack of any real connection with anyone close to me. When I was in middle school I used to ponder why I failed to feel any real emotion, at least now I can place a cause to it. That being a lack of knowledge and education through experience with my parents, and from locking myself, and being locked away, emotionally from my parents by a vulnerability of being different/incongruent. In comparison with other trans women, I'm not sure what is worse, being confronted by your parents and fighting with them over it, or being ignored and overlooked by them, left to fiend for oneself.

Contrasts

I am finally back home, and glad to be. Definitely an interesting experience however.

As a follow up to the last post, I talked to my ex and found out that I wasn't being ignored, but ze wanted to create distance. Reasonable enough I suppose, though I still find myself possessive and jealous over things. I believe that is normal as I still have some feelings there.

Seattle did my spirit worlds of good, after that we went down to Portland for a night, then to Denver to visit a friend of one of my companions. This is where the plot thickens.

My connection to this person was pretty strong, we share astrological signs, and we were flirting pretty heavily through the time I was there. When we went to a local Gay bar, I confirmed the feelings towards me, and things escalated from there.

Things didn't get terribly serious, we were, after all, sharing a room with my two other companions, and I am not a quiet girl usually. What I find curious about this encounter however, is the upfront fickleness of it, and my sexual attraction to him. As a self confessed "100% hetero", the attraction to a trans-woman is somewhat complicated. I wasn't sure what to think until he made his intentions clear later on that night. I had no issues with him though, he was cute, charming, considerate, intelligent, and basically enjoyable to the last detail. I can't honestly say my attraction isn't heightened due to contrast against my ex however.

Looking at it now, I think one of the issues was that my gender was never called into question, I always felt very feminine around him. being with someone taller and larger than me was also an enjoyable change. I'll spare you the details, but I found myself easily falling into a comfort zone around him that, had the situation been different, may have flourished in something of a relationship. Which, brings me to my last bit, the fickleness. This was not my first sexual encounter with a genetic male. One thing I find distasteful is their eagerness, and the lack of control they exude. I know this behavior because it use to be one of mine. I amused myself when I caught him doing motions and routines that I used to do. Being trans gives me sort of an playbook on how males work, more so I believe than genetic females, but I digress. I think we both just knew it wasn't going to amount to much, and so if we could give each other something enjoyable, then why not.

So why the entry then? Well I'd lie if I said casual sexual encounters were my favorite, but, I think in this case, no real harm was done. I wasn't assuming a purpose or cause in it like I had the last time I slept with my ex, and thus I have no real emotional attachment, aside from some pleasant notions that I would like to enjoy again at some time, with someone.