My life part 10,878: Voldemorte Returns

I really dislike losing friends. A while back I had asked for my ex to be excluded from an event that I considered to be our anniversary. I wouldn't be able to go, and having recently split up, the idea of her there with her other partner, felt violating to me. Any other day/event I'd have been fine with, but not that one.

There are a few problems with that idea. For one, it isn't my place to dictate where a person can't go because I have an emotional attachment. It's my baggage to deal with, and I shouldn't be hoisting it onto to other people. Two, it's an abuse of my connection to a host of events, I can't imagine he would exclude someone based on a different person's request, but he did here largely because of his feelings towards me. Third, I should have talked to my ex about it directly, rather than going around her to achieve my desires, though granted, I can't imagine a scenario where she accepts the request (likely one reason I opted not to go through her).

In all of these, I'm in the wrong. My friends, who've talked to me about it, have all largely agreed in that. I don't claim to defend any of the above, but just explain it.

I've hurt her because of that said action, and hence apologized as that wasn't my intent. I wasn't trying to punish anyone, just protect what to me, felt like a vulnerability. Again, exposition.

What, turns that into the ending of a friendship/relationship (I left for Thailand on fuzzie terms), is the point where the communication breaks down. Lashing out in an attempt to drive me away is a shitty form of saying "I need some space". I tried and offered to help in anyway possible, from giving space, to the inverse, to never seeing her again if that was desired. Those aren't my preferred outcomes, but I'll accept them. I do however need them verbalized clearly though, that isn't asking much. 

I don't have the time or energy to deal with that. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. What I did was wrong, and if that breaks that friendship for you, okay, I'll accept that, but you have to tell me directly.

As is, I remain open to reconnecting, though I don't see that happening anytime soon. It's disappointing, and sad, and a little petty. Anyone who's read this knows repeatedly the slights and hurts I've dealt with over the past two years, this, seems rather pale in comparison yet there it is.

What is this

I knew things were bad when I started wishing I'd get cancer. Being hit by a bus is an old favorite, but it lacks the emotional sympathy you get with the big C. At least then I'd have a few months to piddle around and enjoy life, then just let go. That doesn't't seem so bad. The bus, while immediate, lacks in the ability to let go. Still, it makes up for it in not dragging out the inevitable. There's always the old bridge jump, or razors, but, that requires far too much courage on my end. I'be always been one for the cowards way out.

This update comes as a bit of a surprise to most, and myself as well, as things have been fairly rosy. Well, rose-like, anyway. I have some wonderful friends, and a fantastic partner, but something is still missing, and I grow very very weary of the cycle. There simply has to be more to life than this, I just can't seem to comprehend or accept that this is what my life is now; a never ending routine of short-changing my life for chump change so I can pay money to people who supposedly allow me to live. What a waste this life, and lifestyle is. It's a cycle based entirely on consumption, greed, and profiteering of those who have most.

I know that is a bit vague, so let me elaborate. I go to work, and waste 2/3 of my life doing this, things I don't enjoy, don't want to do, and have no interest in doing, in exchange for money. That exchange short changes me of both deserved wages, and life experience (things I could have otherwise spent my life doing). I then have to spend that money on things I have no choice on, such as rent, or food. How people don't see this as slavery, I can't understand. You're not free, if you have to work in exchange for your life. Food and shelter are biological needs, yet I have to work in order to secure them? What madness and injustice every decided that was a suitable or acceptable way to live.  Yet because you give people the illusion of choice, drug them with sweets and anti-depressants and they suddenly forget. Anything to forget if not just for a little while.

And that is where I find myself now. I work, I run home on the brink of tears to plug myself into a digital life where I can escape into something interesting, entertaining, and acceptable. I then unplug, sleep, and repeat. Anything to forget the madness that is the majority of my life. I dream hourly of quitting, of doing anything else, fuck, even Porn would at least provide me with something I do of my own volition and choice.

Given that scenario, you can see why Cancer seems a desirable option, it's an out that allows me to not care, to not work, to not be a slave. I can do what I want, and when asked why I get this maddening privilege, I can spout with a smug sense of pride "Oh, well I have cancer so". How fucking ridiculously absurd that only when a person has cancer are the deemed acceptable to do what they wish. This is why I game endlessly, because not doing so requires me to look at what my life has become in the eyes, and I can't bear that shame, let alone look it straight in those giant avian eyes that seem to stare straight through me. The worst part of this, is that I did it to myself. In my fear of making mistakes I opted for a half measure that enshrined my misery through inaction. And now, here, now, this instant, I'm paralyzed once again. Taking current temporary security for long term sanity, enjoyment, and satisfaction in my life.

The fact that I haven't collapsed into a mental breakdown of anxiety, fear, and an unfathomable unstoppable rage at my life and the great and fundamental injustice done to me in my existence, if a god damn miracle.

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 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?

Affirmations and Acquiescence.

I find it amusing how media can sometimes reflect perfectly a mood, or an idea that I want to convey. Recently, I've decided to break things off with the primary partner I've had since January. I wrote about the issues I have had before, during all this time.

The fact is that for the past six months I have felt very low and pathetic. I have been depressed, self-hating, muted, passive, victimized, abused, neglected, and disillusioned. The worst part, however, is that I felt I deserved it all.

I identify heavily, and associate heavily with the identity of the Cancer zodiac. I need my home to be harmonious, it has to be my heaven, my sanctity and solitude. I moved to Seattle for that. I literally, abandoned everything I had that made me secure in my life, to improve my living conditions. I left all of my friends and family, my biological family, all of my relationships, the security and safety that comes with knowing a place and being familiar with it. That is how high of a priority it is for me.

Around late December, I was forced to move in with two people. I had no money, I had no job, and they were the only ones willing to let me stay there for free. I thank them for that. However the negativity that erupted from that engagement, is the stage for all of this.

That being said, in the midst of all this negativity, I fell in love. For the first time, really, I felt obsessed. Had you asked me before if I had been in love, I would have said yes, and believed it. It is, however a feeling completely and utterly unique to itself. I can now safely without doubt say I know the difference between loving someone, and being in love with them.


"No one can tell you you're in love, you just know it, through and through, balls to bones".

Being in love drowned out every other emotion and natural feeling I had. It became the priority in my life. The shitty home life that had developed, the dread and disappointment, the anger, frustration, disgust, and utter contempt that surrounded me every day, every moment I was at home was still being felt, but I was blind and deaf to it.

I continued to be, until I finally left it, and realized just how unhealthy that environment had been for me. Now, at worst, my home is neutral. At best, it is my sanctuary away from the evils and perils of the world. It is a stark and shocking difference to realize.

Why then, is love so blinding for me? I didn't have an answer for this, until I came across this page from the Evangelion Manga (read top to bottom, but right to left)

"I still hate the dark. The cold last night of the world is there. There. If only we could have stayed in the dark together. I could be there, if it was with him"





This, while different in terms of gender roles, and the sexuality of the partners, represents perfectly how love is for me. It is what I'm searching for, and what I'm longing for. The end of the world, in Misato's (the girl) world is more literal, but for me, it is symbolic of all the negativity of the world, the truely bad shit that I deal with, that crippled hole that I've often been thrown into and slid into where I can see nothing else but dread, death, and despair.

When I fall in love, all of that is bearable. I can let my guard down, I can relax, finally, and not worry about the rejection, the neglect, the self-harm, the conditional bullshit of social red flags and contracts that I'm always wary of.

In January, I thought I had found that. For a brief flicker of time, I did.

I spent February, March, April, May, and part of June trying to light that flame again. I needed it. Life was difficult to bear without it. But I was so focused on that flame that I lost sight of things. Rather than fix the problems, issues, and all the negativity being injected and ejaculated into my life, I became addicted to the medications to make it numb and bearable.

Coming away in this, recently, having fixed the large amounts of negative energy being directed towards me, I started to regain my sense of self-respect. Stepping back, away from that flame, I can see how dim it actually was, and how harshly burned I had become from it.

I still want that flame in my life, the love I felt is still there. But I will no longer let it burn me.

This, is my life. I have spent most of it alone. I will continue to spend great amounts of it continuing to feel alone. I love connections, I love human touch, human interaction, I have been devoid of it for most of my life. Yes, I get validation from it. I have learned now, though, that I cannot sacrifice myself for it.

I possess the capacity for self-sacrifice in regards to love. It is ...breath-taking to actually realize. It is also highly destructive and dangerous for me. Loving someone, requires a great deal of trust. In this instance, it was abused (unintentionally) due to my inexperience with being in love.

The danger, lies in that I do not commit but completely. It allows me to be abused, harmed, neglected, starved, asphyxiated, beaten, and broken, at will, without penalty or doubt, for and by, the person I am in love with.

In this, however, I allowed myself to be neglected, and starved in the name of a love I was afraid to lose due to the massive amounts of negativity originating from my home life.

Now, having that fixed, the value of a hurtful, damaging relationship in the name of love is diminished. My desire, to stay in this state of being, with this person, is naught. My desire to be in love, and experience that connection and intensity of emotion is still great, but not at the cost of my self-respect, and my strength of will.

My love, sweetness, romance, passion, loyalty, and commitment must be earned and cherished. I will no longer sacrifice myself for anyone who I feel does not.

Lastly, I do not scab and scar for anyone, but for the health and betterment of myself; while these wounds do run deep, they will heal just like the others.

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.

Return of the Rains

Being officially fall here, thankfully, my mood has somewhat abated. It is still a sporadic thing however whenever the moods do strike. Often they hit over the smallest of triggers, the latest being a computer illustration of a new GLBT center going up in some latin american country. That in itself was fine with me, but the corner was illustrated a cute lesbian couple, and that did it. So far my self imposed guidlines have worked out and I've managed any further bloodshed at the cost of starting up therapy again. I've wanted to, but I also want to try and go without therapy at the moment. I'm sure it could do me some good, it always does, but I need to learn to deal with these things on my own. It is also a financial burden that I don't need at the moment. While my family has offered to pay for it, it isn't a burden they can easily accept either.


Which brings me to both my family and financial situations. Fincially, I'm just about tapped for resources, and had it not been for a friend of mine offereing me a room with him when he moves into the city, I would be in much more dire straights. As it stands living rent free will hopefully be good enough for me until I can find a position on my own. When and If that ever happens is anyones guess. Needless to say my situatoin is going to become much more tense than I am used to, as I haven't lived with anyone for a few years now. Still, it is better than returning to Texas. The thought has been brought up to me by my parents, though I refuse to end up in a worse place, with just as aweful of job prospects and even worse living situations. 


My connection to my family is even now eroding even thinner. They find it nigh impossible to be honest with me. My mother in particular refuses this even when I and my brother call her on her being two faced. Why they find it so hard to simply be honest with me is unknown to me. I suppose they believe being so far away I'll simply choose to not deal with them if they upset me. What they don't realize though is that being honest with me is the best way to deal with me and best way to avoid me being pissed off. I always eventually find out what they think/believe anyway, so they do themselves no favors by not telling me things themselves. 


Still, there is simply so much distance between them and myself that I refuse to tolerate their bullshit. This is a complete contrast to my good friends that I left back in Texas. The idea of celebrating with them instead is one that I welcome greatly, but I'm sure they all have families they wish to be with for the holidays. Either way, it will be the first christmas that I've been away from my brother, and I think that bothers me more so than not getting any material things or not being with my parents. Unfortunatly, I see our relationship growing to that of my father and his brother, they only talk on rare occasions, and are vastly different people who aren't very close. I hate that idea, but try as I might I can't bring him to care about me, or have an interest in my life. In total it simply feels like he doesn't value our relationship at all. While, that is tolerable for a time, there comes a point where it simply isn't worth fighting for anymore. I have enough problems finding motivatoin to fight for things as it is, let alone things that actively discourage me.


Still, leaves are changing, the city is beautiful in the rain, I have as much social energy to leach off of at local coffee shops as I can desire, and warm drinks help keep the bitter loneliness out of my insides for a time.

Surface

As always, I'm not sure where to begin things. Not much has changed on the job front, things are as frustrating and hopeless as ever. I send out application after application to no avail.

I've been spending most of my time with the few friends I have here, but things are never that simple. I've found that I'm not quite sure where I stand with them. On the one hand I find that I've an attraction to them, but I tend to take a lack of action as disinterest. I.e. if they were interested they would make some sort of overt action. That, to me, doesn't seem illogical (though I know it is a bit). I've normally, at least up to this point, managed this without too much trouble.  Recently however I found myself doing an action that made someone pull away from me. I immediately felt awful, exposed, and embarrased for my display of affection that was so ..misdirected.

Nothing was said, and I was a bit drunk at the time, which always exacerbates my affections, however that doesn't remove the negative consequences of said action. So I'm left somewhere in between not knowing what to really do. I've accepted that I'll have to put my attraction aside and move to more of a friend relationship, it's the slip ups that I'm afraid of.

This is largely true of many of my relationships here. I think this is largely due to the fact that I spend so much of my time alone, and that the loneliness of existence is beginning to wear heavily on me. While I'm quick to get out of the apartment when given the chance, it seems almost a tease to myself to go expecting wanting things to happen. I know they probably won't, if they were, they would have happened a while ago. That doesn't convince the ache though.

I find myself growing callus and cold towards people as well. I'm trying hard not to become jaded and hopeless, but, it is a struggle.

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.

Praying

Well I finally started taking charity donations for surgical operations. You can view that website at angelsinabsolute.blogspot.com. It is a play off this website, I thought it was clever. Anyway, it is hard to say just where things are these days. I've sent out my first of many job applications, and while I don't expect much from them, I'm not going to be disappointed if I don't get anything. Things are simply just very tense at the moment. Between finances, the chaos of post-graduation, school work, and all the rest, I'm just beginning to crack I think.

What is more disturbing, is I'm not the only one. A good friend of mine, and fellow trans person, checked into a hospitality voluntarily. I talked to him extensively the night before, when he was having an emotional melt down. I don't see that as a far out possibility. I think the only real difference is that I haven't had the hope driven out of me yet. Had my situation been as dire as his, I can easily see myself going down that road. Last Thursday was an equally bad day, that was filled with very trying circumstances, arguably one of the worst in a long time, but I held it together. When prompted at therapy, the general consensus was it was an issue of loneliness/lack of connections, underneath a large banner of unimaginable stress. Indeed, I can handle almost anything with the supportive of my friends, but alone my strength dwindles considerably.

That wasn't the case this past Friday however. The day was actually relatively fine, with nothing really going on. However, late in the evening I purposefully dived into some areas that I knew were going to upset me. I'm still not sure why, aside from a weird urge to take care of an issue then and there, and release the negativity, rather than wait for it to bubble up to the surface.

I did make use of my knife to cut in a few places, but it didn't carry the shame that it did the last time I did. I'm currently chalking that to being upset (last time) vs depressed (this time). No, This time was only a nice sharp release that I am accustomed to. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue doing so, I had thought I was done with it, but it seems our daemons will always come back if we allow them an avenue.

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).