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.

Weary Eyes and Cold Tea

It's hard to describe what all I'm feeling. There's a plethora of shit going on in my head and it all just seems to be compounding in on itself. Between the ongoing stress in trying to find a reason or purpose in my life, and then all this new found other stress from a polyamourous relationship is just starting to weigh on me.

Then, of course, there is a now renewed desire to start cutting again. Which, while I debated heavily last night is still yet to happen for various reasons. I'm still not quite sure what my plans are on that front. Part of me feels I need the emotional release and control that it would bring, but another doesn't want to go back down that alley, and the last few times that I have decided to, haven't been that great at granted said desires, or rewarded. So, it is, as of yet, undecided. The desire, however, remains.

The poly problems, which more or less started this week, revolve around the hurt from people being careless with my emotions. I felt hurt, obviously, mainly dealing with the fact that in a time designed to be spent with my primary partner, after being left with nothing to do for a bit, opted to visit her new flame for what was intending to be a 4 hour jaunt. This then turned into an all day/night thing.

Thus not knowing when she would be back, and not really having anything to do on my own, resulted in a wasted Friday being spent watching Star Trek. I don't mind these things on a normal weekday, they are routine in their acceptability, but not my ideal way of spending one of the few days that I have time in which to do things.

I'm not upset at her having a new flame, I've encouraged it as there are aspects of our relationship that are unfulfilled, and I don't wish for her to be stuck without them. However I felt somewhat used, more as a closet and maid, than for any possible sexual reason. When the time meant to be spent together is then used to spend time with someone else. The word abandoned was mentioned, but that feels more extreme than I want it to. I don't worry that the relationship is over, or that I'll be neglected like my last relationship, which I think would be more akin to the meaning of the word. There was however a deep sense of isolation, disappointment, and hurt. Along with speckles of betrayal. Not in the "Et Tu brutus" sort of sense, but more in a being lied to sort of way, even if unintentional.

To compound on that sentiment, acting in either my masochism or plain idiocy, I opted to discuss, in vague terms, what was going on with my ex (I prefer to keep her at best, a few arms lengths away from my emotionality). This, predictably, didn't end well (in case you wondered why). In short, my venting was taken as an opportunity to critique my character and boast, albeit unintentionally, about her own situation. I'm starting to find that interactions with her end more and more with "oh fuck you". At which point it's probably not a good idea to continue conversing with her.

In the midst of the night, while feeling the plethora of shit cocktail, the friends and other partners that I did try to confide in either weren't intimately acquainted enough to feel comfortable properly conveying my emotions, or were too busy to deal with me. Which, inevitably ended up with my feeling even worse, both for annoying/pestering them, and for my continued exacerbated isolation.

I worry about being too isolated because it is in such that the worse thoughts come to bear. The suicidal and violent thoughts that I may often have but don't give much credence to come back stronger and magnified in isolation, especially when predisposed to a negative mood. I do not like being tempted/teased in this regard, I find it dangerous and unhealthy. I've no outright objection to the thoughts, but I dislike the idea of being in between them. Such, I suppose, is the curse of being a fatalist, however. I want things to happen, one way or the other, not be stuck in some half-assed half-state somewhere in between. A fitting parallel for my life, in fact.

I write this now, in the late morning trying to wrap my head around things and figure out how I feel, and what I can do to lift this veil of depression. She has apologized and I accepted it, but that doesn't repair the hurt that I feel. I'm trying, but I still can't help but feel somewhat displaced and offput by things. I'm trying hard to restrain from feeling bitter, jaded, and cynical. Though the struggle continues to be pervasive. I find myself wanting to lash out and say hurtful things, but, I've yet to sink into that much self-loathing.

One cannot claim to be graceful if it shreds at the first sign of an ill fitted environment. Grace under fire is my definition of the word. This may though, by the most extreme test of said quality to date.

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.

Diction

Recently I've been fighting my brain on a few things, and doubting, inherently, my emotions. A relationship I've entered into has been going very well, and it has elevated my mood tremendously, but, as there is always a but, I find myself focusing on what is missing, and making comparisons with past relationships, relationships that were unhealthy.

This new relationship has some parallels, but not in any manner that matters. In terms of relationship health it is by far easier, more healthy, more positive, more open and less abusive than my last relationship. These are all wonderful things, and they have made it very easy and fun to be in. Yet, As time as progressed, I find myself questioning the aspect of Love, and what it means. How it may be different from Infatuation/Obsession, and if that matters.

For all the negatives of my last relationship, it did, at a minimum, give me butterflies. My heart ached, and felt deeply entwined and wrapped up in my partner at the time. Looking back at those blogs of the time, and the insanity that I felt, and the horrifying feeling of being overwhelmed. It was above else, intense.

I'm not sure, and haven't been for a while, if that was love. It felt like it, but, so much of that relationship was designed to overwhelm, and much of it was manipulative, both by her, and by me putting myself in an easy place to be taken advantage of, all the while swimming around with my head in the pink cloud of her perfume like so many animated cats.

The new relationship, should, by all means replicate this sensation, yet I remain feet firmly planted, and this is upsetting. Am I making unfair comparisons to how I felt during different relationships? Am I now hindered from feeling in love since my definition has since changed based on an infatuation? If that is now being "In Love" then what do I feel now, I care for someone, but is it fair/justifiable to say I love them when I'm still terra-bound, and not intoxicated by them? Does this set me up to fail then, if I'm wanting and waiting to be shoved off my feat by people ignoring my boundaries and taking advantage of me? Does it even matter if I'm not given butterflies, or that I don't feel overwhelmed?

I'm confused, and I imagine that can lead anyone to doubt, or feel a bit emotionally numb. It has been a very long time since I've engaged my emotions to their full spectrum. While my anger has always been easily tapped and an endless resource of spite, I'm not used to being over-stimulated in dopamine, and it has thus rendered me a bit bottlenecked and bandwidth capped at the moment. This past month has been by and large a blur.

It feels odd saying I don't feel anything, and having it unrelated to depression. It is interesting to notice however, as my dysphoria events have also diminished significantly. At least, my focus on them has as well.

But I am at a bit of a loss for words, or, at least, loss of which words.

Delayed gratification

It has become an issue, again, how I reveal my trans status to people. It is something I've had to be extremely flexible on in the past, despite the fact it really bothers me to not disclose things upfront. I'm out on FetLife, but not on OkCupid. This is intentional as I find FL to be a lot more accepting as a whole.

The issue, is that people are, well, cowards. They scare easily, like timid mice when something confronts them that is outside of their comfort zones. This complicates things for me. I would be completely out about my status if I thought people would be willing to consider it fully, and honestly, upfront. Yet, my past experience has proven this to not be the case. If I reveal my status on OkCupid the messages I get drop off fantastically, between the area of 5-10 a week to maybe 1-2 a month. More so, when I do tell people I haven't met in person, despite the qualities they self proclaim themselves to have, the messages inevitably begin to go unanswered, plans canceled, and excuses found. It is by far much easier for them to simply move on to the next available person. To cast out all the conversation and dialogue that have been had, all the bonding and passed tests that are obligatory in dating, and start anew with someone else.

I have found that if people have an invested interest, however, they are far more willing to consider things in good conscience. It isn't so easy to discard a person if you've made out with them before, or are friends with them, or have good memories with them, or enjoy their company.

My goal in this, is not to deceive anyone, or to mislead anyone. Honesty is one of my salient goals in all things. I don't like withholding things, or beating around bushes. I've forced myself to develop skills in confrontation and addressing  uncomfortable issues. Yet, on this aspect, I find myself hesitating.

All I want, is to have a dinner with someone while discussing the issue. I consider it success if I can get to that point, because sadly, most of my dates and interests don't make it that far. 90% of the people I've come out to have ended in a cowardly rejection via neglect.

This logic follows then:

1. If they are genuinely interested in who I am as a person, then they will still want to be friends if they aren't comfortable with my gender status.
   
   
2. If they aren't willing to be friends, then either A, they just wanted sex to begin with, or B, they aren't that interested in me as a person.

So, getting them interested/invested in me as a person, either secures me a friend that I was interested in but won't be partners with, or, clarifies that they were only looking for/wanting a sexual relationship to begin with. (the idea, being, that they believe being with a trans person is so grave, they don't even want to be friends, despite indicating being interested in me, prior to being enlightened).

This, so far, has been a pretty good mark for things. The few who have turned into friends have agreed to the dinner (or didn't need one), and the ones who didn't, well didn't, and were written off.

So now, I'm at this crux again, dreading the "oh, by the way" conversation that is Damocles'ing it's way through time as I write this. I dread this conversation because it puts me on face level with my rejection. It is a direct statement and judgement on myself as a person of value, and if that value is worth more than the effort it takes to move outside of a comfort zone. Where as being public about the information I avoid the risk, and isolate/insulate myself from the silent rejection of those that would have otherwise been interested. With delaying the decision, I see both those who are willing, and the masses who are not.

The judgement being, the greater of my value as a person, compared to the difficulty and effort involved in moving outside of a person's given comfort zone. Hence why it is easier to be public on FetLife, Kinksters, I believe, have an inherently easier time moving outside a given comfort zone.

I'm aware of the subjectivity of this judgment, and, how I can easily dismiss and brush away the opinion of those who are judging my value as a reflection on themselves, rather than on my value. I often do. However, it does, over time, begin to sink into you like spilled cherry Kool-Aid through a roll of paper towels. Yet, where your mom would thus forbid you from drinking Kool-Aid anymore, I am routinely putting myself over the expensive new carpet, taking long, deep swaths of sugar water in a search for something greater than myself, and a level of satisfaction and happiness that I know is out there, but can't seem to find. Failing to heed the obvious signs of self-harm and damage being done to the carpet in various forms of other red fluids.

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.

Tricks of the treats.

A while back, I was asked how I managed to fall in love. It took a while to really get my mind around the idea, but I think it has to do with rain.

When I was 14, I loved a girl. One day in those rare Texas downpours, we decided to run around in the rain, and just be happy innocent children who loved each other. I had kissed a girl before, but it wasn't something I felt comfortable doing, hell I still don't like making the first move. I remember looking at her, completely soaked, while the sun came out, and wanting to kiss her so badly but not being able to.

That is one of my favorite memories. It was replicated last January. I think that is why I fell so hard, and so fast. I was already deeply fond and contemplating loving my new partner at the time, but that night, and into the next day, while we walked around in the snow, playing in the snow, laughing, I remember being so intensely happy and at ease. The funny thing is, I still couldn't kiss her. I wanted to, and now even a decade later, I still couldn't kiss her in that moment. I felt 14 years old again.

I don't remember if I was in love back then, we grew apart as people do as they grow up, but I remember little things. The placement of cute moles, the smell of her hair and her room, music, and laying around just making out all day. Butterfly kisses, oh god we were so disgustingly cute.

There, is a difference when you're an adult, though. The other aspect, I think, was that I was able to let my guard down for once. All my normal methods of keeping people at a distance, of letting them in slowly, just didn't work. It felt like, for once, I didn't have to worry about things.

I don't know if I desire that again, I think I'm romanticizing it a bit more, and emphasizing the peak of the goods, rather than the ludicrous quantity of lows.

I've started therapy again, which, I think will help. Things are alright at the moment, but there is a unnerving hollowness lurking in the back of my mind that I fear is waiting for an opportune moment to  carve out my motivation and insides.

I miss having passion in my life though, I miss feeling like I belonged to someone, and the entire physical spectrum that comes with being in an D/S relationship. I'm debating throwing an ad up, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet.

Assaults

So, I've never really talked about this before. Forgive me if this is a bit scattered. I don't remember precisely when, but I know it was soon after moving to Austin, so around 2004 or 2005. This would make me around 19 or 20 at the time.

This was pre-transition, when I was first trying to figure out who I was. I began talking to a guy, I'm not sure where I met him, maybe on Myspace, or something (it was the all the rage back then). We talked back and forth for a couple of days and he seemed nice. We decided to meet in person in a parking lot. I was young and naive as you can see. We met up in our cars and he convinced me to go back to his place. He seemed nice enough and I had no reason not to. I opted to follow him, rather than have him drive me. Even then I didn't trust people easily, but I still liked to give them the benefit of the doubt. This, would get me into trouble multiple times.

We got to his place and he offered me a drink, I opted for soda despite his ramblings of the marvels of alcohol. We began by sitting on the couch and watching something. He began to run his hands up my legs and fondle me. I was nervous, and uncomfortable. He was nice, and cute, but I didn't want to mess around with someone I barely knew. I don't remember if he asked if it was okay, and I don't remember if I said it was fine or not. I have a tendency in situations like this, to convince myself that it is okay, when it isn't, and to simply silently endure it until it is over.

This fondling progressed, I asked him to keep things above the belt. I was ignored. Before I knew it he was in my pants and touching me. He asked if I wanted him to perform oral sex, I declined, and he continued to touch me, while touching himself.

I became introspective. I started asking myself questions about what I wanted, wasn't this what I wanted, wasn't he nice, did I have reasons to not reciprocate, why wasn't I into this act, and so forth. I figured at this point I would simple force myself into it. I moved and began to touch him in return. I found strange, issues to focus on during this. After some time I orgasmed, and cleaned myself up. He did as well soon after, and we made small talk for a while before I left.

I drove home crying furiously, unable to explain why, or how everything had just happened. I got home and quickly cleaned myself up. He tried to contact me again in a few days, saying he hoped he didn't scare me of. I never spoke to him again.

I did, once, write this all out to a friend of mine, but I've never spoken of it other than that one instance.

I mentioned before that giving people the benefit of the doubt would get me into trouble again. It did, soon after I moved to Seattle. This was in 2011, post transition. I had met with a couple on OKCupid, in a nearby Starbucks that I was fond of visiting. They seemed...nice, if not idiosyncratic and strange. We didn't discuss my gender. The man talked for most of the conversation, and the woman had trouble with English but we made small talk. We finished our drinks and then decided to go to a nearby pub for alcoholic drinks.

The pub was both awkward and uncomfortable. They knew a few people but I didn't know anyone. I made introductions I knew I wouldn't remember. I got a bit buzzed and we decide to go meet up with a friend of theirs. This friend turned out to live across the street from me.

By the time we finish these drinks, I'm still only buzzed but it is late, and they complain about the buses no longer running. Not knowing how they would then get home, in the cold/rain, I thus offered them a place to sleep, at my apartment. Again, I did not specifically trust them, but gave them the benefit of the doubt. We talk for a good while, and he begins to ask if I ever did any cross dressing or gender bending. I said no as, well, I never did.

I was laying on my bed, he was in a chair. The girl then comes into the bed and snuggles up next to me while I talk some more. I'm alright at this point, physical closeness itself, doesn't always bother me. Eventually we get tired and the lights go out. All three of us are in my bed, and I'm on the far side, with the other girl in the middle. She begins by grabbing my chest, and still a bit buzzed, this is enjoyable even though it isn't what I wanted. They never asked if I was alright with this, or if I wanted this.

Things progress and before I can say anything my pants are off. My first reaction is shame as I didn't shave my legs, (if ever you doubted I didn't plan on this encounter). I panic, knowing all too well the stories of transgirls murdered by the shock of people finding out. I sit up, and quickly say that I was trans. They acknowledge, and he tells the girl in a childlike manner that I was like some other person. I assumed this meant another transgirl they had played around with. Before I can say anything else my panties are down and the girl is performing oral sex.

I laugh, or squirm or something as they ask me what is up and I lie, saying I had to pee. I then ran to the bathroom, and sulked for ..what had to be at least 5 or 10 minutes. I assumed they would continue to have sex, but they must have picked up on something, perhaps the sound of me in the bathroom, I'm not sure. I eventually came out and they were simply laying down, presumably asleep. I crept down next to them and slept.

We talked a bit the next morning, and they eventually left, without saying anything about the previous night. I would see them again at a kink/swinger party a bit later. I attended with their friend that I had met that night, and eventually met his girlfriend who was/is super awesome and still a great friend of mine. I didn't much talk to the couple though, and made a point to avoid them. There is an awkward photo of this gathering laying around somewhere, I untagged myself.

I've had trouble talking about these because I have trouble labeling them assaults or rapes. I have de-legitimized them in my mind because of various things. I enjoyed part of it, or I didn't overtly say no, or I participated back in some way, or because I invited them, or because I voluntarily went into that situation. I feel that it is partially my fault, or not a "real" assault because it wasn't violent, or as terrible as various other things, or because it didn't go that far.

To this day I still have a hard time saying no. It sticks in my throat. My thoughts are to just endure it, stick it out and then leave. I still don't trust people easily, and I still give them the benefit of the doubt.

This notion, or theme, occurred to me recently, as a situation presented itself in which I could easily have been raped by someone I had invited into my apartment. The body language of the person screamed red flag to me, that this person might be a threat, and yet I still simply endured.

I'm not sure what steps to take to make saying no easier, or what it will take for me to act on my instincts.

I do know that people have used some aspect of this benefit of the doubt, to paint me as someone who is afraid of being alone, or rejecting people (and thus being alone). It, infuriates me when people accuse me of this. It is an active trait that I find desirable in people, I think everyone should have the benefit of the doubt. Simple because I don't cut people out of my life when they give off a creepy vibe on first impression, or act in a undesirable manner, it does not mean I'm afraid of being alone, or that I need to rely on other people. I don't make friends easily, and this trait, is a step to remedy that. I abhor people mis-characterizing that as a weakness when it isn't. Excuse me for not being a judgmental jaded fuck.

I moved across the country, to be by myself in an entire new city/state for Christ's sake. The only way that could be MORE independent is if I moved out of the fucking country.

I digress. I guess the point of all of this is to vent it out. To relate, and to seek support from people on it. I don't, dwell on these assaults much, but I did feel it needed to be declared, for my own sake if nothing else.

Being Shredded

I have a very narrow sense of self. Last night, while undergoing a pretty horrible bad trip, I became unraveled. I couldn't remember what I looked like anymore, and anytime I did, all I saw were caricatures of myself. Pictures of me as a child, toon-ified version, older versions of me from my adolescence. None however, were post transition.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being seen threw. The normal barriers of confidence and security that I have in place around myself were gone. It felt very much like I had detransitioned, and was extremely noticeable. I felt ugly, hideous, false, lied to, insecure,deformed, disfigured, and monstrous.
There is a reason I don't, or can't, handle a lack of control over my body. My sense of self is so entirely dependent on my post-transition identity, that without it I fall apart. I have disassociated with my past so much that I don't even recognize it as part of myself anymore. Without who I am now, I'm left without knowing who or what I am, and in complete horror.

There, is another issue, as well. As I find myself more involved in sexual activity, I find my dysphoria is increasing as well. Generally, if I don't have to see myself, then I can enjoy things. I am noticing however that I'm beginning to box myself in with comparisons. Seeing other people is now starting to simply remind me, so that I can't enjoy just being with someone without feeling the self loathing that comes.

As a quick aside, it isn't a loathing for who I am as a person, it is a loathing for my situation, my body, and my general hatred of said body. I completely, and utterly loath that I have to debate issues like pools, hottubs, and just the ability to be intimate with people.


By and large my situation has improved to the point that my mental and emotional state is now being dragged down and hindered by my body and dysphoria. While that is a worthy accomplishment, and I'm glad I've progressed to said point, having my body now re-emphasize the things I hate about it is crippling my mentality and stabbing me in the spine. It is hobbling my emotional progress and actively destroying who I am, and who I've defined myself to be.

I don't suppose anyone has 20 grand to spare do they?

Failure

Herein, lies a thorough diagnosis and understanding of how I failed and sabotaged myself and the first polyamorous relationship I've been in. There is a significant chance of repeated thoughts and dialogue from the "Paused" entry.

Expectations, unbalance, silence, fear, inexperience.

From the beginning this felt different. I wrote about that in the "Diagnosis" post. My normal behaviors and moods seemed irrelevant and useless. Largely, my asexuality leaves me feeling rather cool towards romantic interests. I care for them, deeply, and love them, but it was never on the cusp of how drastic and dramatic this felt. It felt real, visceral, intense, and I felt alive. For the first time, in a long time. My normal cool, indifference, and  slightly judgmental attitude changed to one of childish endearment, adoration, and blindness. Where as normally I would find faults in people and it would turn me away, here, when I found them, I just did not care.

I wrote then about my fears, "Insomnia...again", how I was terrified that the feelings I had were exclusive to one person. That I would never feel these emotions again. My greatest fear was the these intense emotions that I was feeling for the first time would go unrequited, and 3-4 months down the road I'd be broken up with due to the unbalance between our feelings. This was how my previous relationship ended, and it was quite painful to endure. I wished to avoid that at all costs.

The foundations and expectations I had built in starting this relationship were all based on my previous experiences. I went in knowing it was a poly relationship, that my partner would be seeing other people. I never once thought to change how I thought or acted in the relationship. Maintaining my old monogamous mindset undermined everything and set in motion my thought processes that lead to where I am now.

While it is easy to look at the issues after the fact, I don't blame myself too harshly. Being my first poly relationship I was unsure just what to think or how I would be stressed. While it does make sense to assume I would need to change how I thought about things, I had no idea in how or what ways I needed to.Looking at things, knowing this, it seems very obvious why the ended up the way they did. After time when distance was first created I took it personally, as a referendum on myself and the desire to have me around.

This initial doubt was planted, and led to nagging feelings of objectification and of being used. Whenever we would be physically affectionate, and follow this with a period of inactivity, I would begin to feel used as a sexual object, or as a tool/experiment to better understand how submissives work. It was untrue and irrational, but that is what fear does to you.

Instead of talking about these things, I tried to push them away with the lingering jealous/inadequate feelings in order to try and make myself more desirable to be with/around. When this also failed, the cascade of negative emotions became overwhelming, seen in "Haunted". I grasped desperately for anything I could trying to hold on to something I thought I was loosing.

Ironic that grasping may be the thing that caused me to loose it anyway.

Much in the way that struggling makes you sink in quicksand faster, or how panicking speeds up how quickly poison travels within your body, my fear exacerbated the problems.

The grasping only pushed more distance between us, which snowballed the effects into where things were stressed into breaking. Tension, stress, hostility, and pain were brought in and pushed us away from each other.

The rest is as you can imagine, there are details left out here that are covered in previous entries, "On Being Punished", but I want to minimize the amount of rehashing.

So realizing this now, I'm beating somewhat of a dead horse as I rehash much of what was written in "Paused". I can't force anyone's feelings, and I shouldn't be trying to force my own. I hate the feeling of regressing. The self deception and self degradation that comes after a split up wherein a person doesn't want to hurt or think of the partner anymore, and thus beats themselves up when they do. I'm trying hard not to follow down that path. I'm attempting to remain optimistic and fatalistic in that if things are meant to work out then they will. I'm going to let my emotions run their own path. If that means I wake up and fall asleep thinking about someone for months on end then so be it. I'm focusing on the positive emotions, and the love that I still have, even if it is unshared now. I'm done hiding from things.

Being drowned by love is a new experience for me, and one that overwhelmed me and my healthy obsession with being honest to myself. Fear and insecurity hit me like never before, and I don't like what it did to me. In as such, I am working to confront these issues head on and move beyond them.

I made an oath in 2008 that I was done lying to myself. I have sense then taken a crusade of positive change and personal growth that has led me here. There have been setbacks on the way, and hurtful things have been said about my commitment to that crusade recently. I understand how and why the accusations were made, I disagree with them, but they were made for a reason.

I've recently thought about adding to my tattoo to reemphasize this point to myself. My relationship to the art has often been representative of my sense of self and my journey. I had thought to add birds flying near/perched on hir, but now I think I'm wanting a dramatic explosion of color and life coming from the flower on it's right side. Symbolizing the growth through circumstance and positive change. Beauty out of the stone cold death that was my past life. The hiding, self mutilation, and emotional violence towards others that were so much a part of who I was. It is there, it will always be there, a part of my history. It is no longer who I am though, and in pushing out of that shell, the cracks that formed, and the life that has come back into me I feel are being left unrepresented. I shall ponder this, and just what and how I want to express this.

Paused

It bothers me just what conclusions people draw without talking to me about things. They see some of my bad habits, and make assumptions. I wouldn't, and normally don't, care what people want to believe, until it comes to effect me. I've been called a leach, and my emotional stability called into question. Which, would strike me as funny was it not so hurtful.

Since I was a teenager I've had to depend on myself for emotional support. I hide away my secrets and emotional states from everyone until it almost killed me (circa January 2008). Since then, I've taken a dramatic turn for the better, and moved into a much more aware, happy, and stable mindset.

I used to cut weekly, now it is down to a few times a year. I've written before on how cutting is an emotional control, it is a release, and a coping mechanism for my extremes. It serves to rush if I'm feeling numb, and it serves to calm if I'm erratic. Rarely is it used as a tool of self-mutilation or destruction to that extent. I cut as an answer to symptoms, the cutting is not the symptom in itself. I don't cut out of self hatred anymore, I've learned to stop doing that. I do it now more as an act of moderation to keep myself within certain boundaries in extremes, and I nearly always regret it afterwards. Yet, because of this, the idea is now floating among people that I have to attach myself to others to leach emotional stability, that I am so terrified of being alone, that I need other people to fix/keep me in line.

These were all things I was accused of, and that hurt to hear. How people can think I am so pathetic, selfish, or cowardly is beyond me. I transitioned on my own, for myself. It would kill me if I didn't. I moved to Seattle on my own, for my own sanity. I left behind my family, my friends, and everything I have known, I gave up all that security and comfort for the sake of my mental and emotional stability and sanity. I have routinely put myself available on internet dating sites, and routinely been hurt by people in order to find friends and potential partners to bring good people into my life. I have done all this, and I still do all this in order to better my life, to make myself happier, and provide for my stability.

I said being accused of being a leach was laughable. The idea that after all this, I would suddenly have to depend on other people to make me stable seems comical. If I needed other people, how could I leave everyone, literally everyone, I knew behind and move 2300 miles away from 99% of all my contacts (I found an old friend in Portland, but that was the closest). If I needed other people, how could I risk the affections of my friends and family by coming out to them. I did both of these things for my own sanity and stability, and the idea that I now can't risk being away from someone, is borderline offensive if not downright hurtful. I find myself questioning just how well people think they know me.

I dislike being alone. This is true, and I think I have justifiable reasons for it. That is not to say I can't be alone, or I can't be single. I've spent most of my life being single or alone, it is another reason I dislike it. However, disliking something and needing the opposite are not the same things. I enjoy being social, I prefer to be around other people if I can, I get energy from social situations (though I'm still introverted at this stage).

At this point, my relationship is at best, paused. At worst, over. The distance that was requested from me is and was too painful for me to take while still emotionally attached. When I fall in love it is usually very in depth and blinding. It is easy for me to get in over my head, as it seems was the case here. I think some of the issues revolve around it being my first polyamorous, and first dom/sub relationship as well. My wanting of some sort of emotional connection or bond to keep me from getting jealous overtook most everything else. I was afraid of pushing people away, and thus bottled in things that upset me, and refused absolutely to let myself be jealous. This only exacerbated my need for an emotional connection that simply wasn't ready yet. Instead of discussing my feelings of being used or objectified, I focused solely on that connection in hopes it would remedy everything. I placed all my hopes and remedies in that connection, and when it failed to materialize I began to fall apart.

This, in itself, is not enough to bring me to cutting. The falling apart, in combination with a large number of negative emotions revolving around my job brought me to the edge. The lack of support on these issues is what brought me to cutting. The internalized negativity needed to be released, which it did over the course of a few erratic emotional days of crying. After a few days I both grew tired of this, and felt the volatility of my emotions growing more erratic, and decided it best to cap them, by cutting. I wrote about this experience, and that soon after, in the post titled "On Being Punished".

I do wish to note that the previous was not linear. My falling apart happened across multiple days both before and after cutting. In that, I reached out for support, but was given further distance, likely due to the cutting, and appearance of the lack of self sustainability. Which now brings us full circle, to the confrontation of that distance and pain.

I do not want this relationship to end, but I feel emotionally, that I cannot continue to let myself be vulnerable to someone who seems to ignores me. As apparently we both need distance (my withdrawing in response to the initial distance) the best thing it seems is to give each other space. My concern lies in the ability for my feelings to regenerate after being recessed and withdrawn.

This post, I feel is exposition on how things have gone. I do not begin to claim everything as fact, or unbiased. Hopefully soon I'll be able to write about things returning to normal, I want to be able to write that post. It is somewhat, my motivation for this one, but I have done all that I can. Pushing and stressing the issue does nothing to help either of us, so at this point, I leave it to fate.

One last funny note however. I fell in love in the snow, in the early morning one day. Today, in the morning, a quick waft of snow trickled down on my way to work. It felt like an omen then, I hope it remains one of positivity, and not one marking an ending. Thinking of that moment still reduces me to tears in how badly I long for that moment back.

As such, I'm refusing to mark this post under the Moving On tag.

Haunted

I feel my insecurities boiling over. I'm withdrawing, back into my protective shell, from those I love. I'm not entirely sure why, but I have my suspicions. Mostly, I think it comes from feeling vulnerable and overextended emotionally. Ever since my last relationship I've been paranoid about being hurt again, and that other people are not as into me as they think, or at all.

What is surprising to me is just how much of an effect this has had on me. For being over a year ago, almost 18 months actually, it seems strange perfectly logical that this would pop up now. When looking at things, and what has developed over the past few weeks, the lack of communication and activity with my girlfriend has eroded away my sense of worth in the relationship. How she acts around other partners and people seems to be more endearing and emotional than with me. Combined with a recent streak of busyness on both our parts, it makes sense that it magnifies my insecurities into emotional boiling points. I find myself questioning everything, motivation and sincerity. Being overly harsh and critical on word choice and vocal tone to cherry pick meanings and gauge mood and interest levels.

Insomnia..again

I got caught up tonight looking at cute condominiums that I can't afford to buy.  This largely mirrors most of my life at the moment. While things are going very very well, there is still an overall aching for things. I'm exhausted of being a poor college/graduate student and living meager means. Not that I have some huge desires of grandeur, I actually plan to live quit modestly, but simply having a place of my own, and body parts that match, ...to be married...things that, seem simple yet are huge investments in life. I'm...not quite sure why it is I want these things, I suppose, I'm just ready to get up and move on to that next phase. I'm tired of being limited by things, by finances, by gender identity, by body dysmorphia, by being alone.

I'm..terrified that I'll prove my mother right, that I'll be alone for most of my life. I'm terrified that when I say I love you, and when my partner says it back, that we are talking about two different emotions. There is a huge amount of insecurity and distrust in being in love with other people. I've, so far, resisted largely the urge to second guess and question motivations and reasonings behind how/why/when people say they love me. Never look a gift horse, or in this case, a love given freely, in the mouth. I'm grateful just to have people in my life that love me, but my paranoia and fear of being alone, again, leaves me unsure and insecure.

Perhaps that is why I have these foolish notions of marriage, that it somehow means a true bond between people, or some sort of validation of feelings. In that same token, collaring could be just as useful. It seems somewhat less permanent however. Though, it isn't like marriage is either.

I think I'm just naive still, with hopeless romantic notions of love that simply don't exist anymore. 

When asked why I didn't think I would ever get married, I dodged the question. In reality, I don't think I'll ever find anyone who loves me that much. Loves me enough to put up with all the baggage and "yeah but"s and other abnormalities that comes with marrying me.

That is the root of why I'm a submissive most of the time. Having someone else take charge, and touch me, hurt me, or simply give me attention is validation in my desirability. In my sick mind I've equated desirability with femininity, and thus to be one is to be the other. Which, I think, is all I ever wanted. From partners, or my parents when I was growing up, all I've ever wanted was to simply be wanted, at least, then it is proof I exist in some form or another.

But then, I guess we are all still just recovering from the mistakes of our mothers and fathers.

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.

Dreaming Again

It has been over two months since I've written, and I feel that is largely, acceptable. It isn't that things are just so amazing that I don't have time to write, in contrast, it is quite far from it. I just find that escapism is a more effective means of dealing with most things at the moment. A very...precarious step back for me. I've noticed some old habits coming back up, paranoia, self-deprecation, body image issues, and perhaps the most egregious of offenders, internal dialogue. Not in that understanding oneself is bad, but bouncing ideas back and forth with myself and letting them snowball into issues when they are not, is something I had long given up. Yet now, I find them returning.

I haven't been to a therapist in almost nine months, and while I was alright with this for a good while, it may be time to start back up again. The lack of a source of rebuttal and honest discourse about my life has caused me to inflect almost everything.

To said effect, I've had nightmares, regularly. They vary in degree of intensity and subject matter. Most recently it was stinging insects and tarantulas that I couldn't get off/out of my skin. I would hit them and smash their exoskeletons, but their stingers would remain intact and in my skin, infecting me. Other dreams have involved self mutilation and botched surgeries. These have all started since graduation last December. It is irregular for me to remember most dreams, and even more so for me to have consistent nightmares. The..intensity..and..grotesque nature of some of them doesn't make me long for sleep. It does however explain the cold sweats I wake up in.

My living situation is soon to be in chaos, and I'm not sure how this is going to affect me. I am just going to approach it with the best of my ability and hope I can make it work. I have suffered through worse, and I can't imagine my trust will be betrayed. I simply dislike not having a personal space, it feels very limiting emotionally, and having to keep up my masks/acting all the time becomes very tiresome and draining after multiple days on end.  To said extent, I'll probably start writing more often without the clear emotional vents that I have in place already.

I do have some things brewing, new social circles and such, that may be promising. I'm hesitant to put too much emphasis and them however as they are still newborn and I don't want to get over attached in case things don't work out. My paranoia about perceptions is also keeping me at a distance. That said, the euphoria they have given me the past few days is very, very welcome. The inverse, has me avoiding some of the people I met here previously, and tolerated. I understand this is somewhat of a "shitty" thing to do, but, we all do what we must for our intellectual and emotional sanity. The family I had in Texas was one that I loved dearly, and leaving them to move in with my mother was a shock, leaving them to come here, and find myself dealing with topics and issues I have long since abandoned was excruciating.

Things are not perfect, nor do I expect them to be. However, there is hope, for the first time, in a long time. But, perhaps, maybe I'm just sleeping again, and this is but another cruel emotional self-mutilation dream.

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.

Routines, Habits, & Wounds.

I'm not sure how things are going. My mood is still abnormal, though enjoyable. I find myself loosing some of my cynicism towards my family, but I know my feelings towards them haven't changed. Though it is really only a change towards my mother, to whom things have always been touch and go at best. While things may tolerably pleasant now, I know it never stays that way. I think things will end up better for me, and everyone else once I can get up north.

My ex has also relocated back to Texas. This isn't news as I knew she was going to be returning in January, however I'm not quite sure I feel about it yet. My first instincts are to withdraw and be defensive. I think there is a part of me that is still hurt over what happened. Granted we talked things through and apologies and all that, but something still feels off about everything. Perhaps there is still some closure I'm seeking however I'm not sure what that might be as of yet. It isn't pressing anyway, just something festering in me somewhere...Maybe once it completely rots over I can find out where I need to...amputate.

Morbid, but it works.

The Death Card

"The Death card, in tarot, marks ends and beginnings. Although most illustrations
of the Death card tend to be morbid, the forces behind the Death card
are actually quite exciting. Yes Death does mark the end of something.
But ends are often brought about by completion and not loss. Most
endings are actually good, and make room for us to begin new adventures."



This card seems apt for this entry as it sums up many of my feelings on issues.

For one, I'm using it as a conclusion for my feelings towards my ex. The behavior displayed this last week has been that of someone who really doesn't care about me or my feelings. It is instead, the behavior of a rabid hedonists, and I am not going to let the misguided pursuits of someone else bother me any longer. Despite my feelings, as a cancer, I am not one to give myself over to those who harbor ill will towards me, intentional or not. I would like to proclaim a friendship here, but I'm not even sure what would be the point of it. I don't have any ill intention, it is just, I do not care, anymore.

I've been struggling with anger towards my past recently. The animosity towards my parents is still very much alive, but I find no resolution or fulfillment in dwelling on past circumstances. While I would love to lecture on about how much pain they have caused me, I don't know what purpose or good would come from it, other than making them feel horrible, and I do not wish that.

This is also the start of the end of this chapter in my life. So much lies ahead for me come 2011. I will have finished my education, and aside from a little debt, have no financial obligations or ties to where I am. I can move anywhere in the country (or out of it) and start a new existence. This is really the beginning of my adult life, and I am quite anxious to see where it goes. So the death card is quite appropriate, I'm ending an interest, and coming to the end of a huge chapter in my life. I'm not sure where I will end up, but, while there is some anxiety, It doesn't seem insurmountable

Recouperation

So the other night I had a nice little welcome back party. It was a pretty good time overall, and I'm glad people had fun, however somethings ended up bothering me. The main of which, was that I can't figure out what was bothering me. Usually I can spot these things pretty well, but this has been eluding me.

I know one of the things was that it was somewhat hijacked into a play party. While that is fine, I have no issues with play parties at all, in and of themselves. It wasn't what I was expecting, and so I think I was a bit taken aback, and felt left out of the party. While I did partake a bit, it simply wasn't my thing.

Towards the end, after I had already gotten somewhat uncomfortable, my ex told one of her friends playfully that ze loved him. It was just in that friendship sort of way, and I know there wasn't an romantic intent behind it. It bothered me however because of all the times I have said it to hir, it was never returned. So hearing words I wanted to hear thrown about so casually without any meaning to someone else hurt me. I know it was unintentional, but it is just that same lack of consideration that I get from so many people.

It isn't unusual. Most people don't think about these things, or give it much consideration. Perhaps that is why Denver (the boy from the previous post, as this is his new name on here) had such a draw for me. Being a Cancer, it seemed he picked up on the details better than most people.

I was going to write on about how I'm tired of being in love, and dating, but that would be a fallacy. I am simply tired of dating and loving the wrong people. Perhaps I just need to work on controlling myself, so that I don't fall so madly in love with everyone. It just, goes against my nature however. Being so closed off from people for so long, I want nothing more than to love everyone and be as close as possible to them.

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.