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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Endure, Master Wayne.

Reading through this book, I see so much more than I did prior to transitioning. It is where I draw my name, and the similarities are striking. I find myself laughing, hysterically, and then weeping. The latter, on this passage;

But she had become a goddess and he could not help it if he were astonished. She had always been beautiful in his eyes, and admirable, too. He had worshipped her, in some ways, for her courage in adversity, for her resistance to the ways of his own world. But that had been bravery under siege and now, it seemed, she single-handedly gave siege to that same society which, a few months before, had threatened to engulf and destroy her identity. There was a determination in her bearing, a lightness, an air of confidence that proclaimed to everyone what he had always sensed in her -- and he was proud that his world should see her as the woman he knew, in full command of herself and of her situation. Yet there was, as well, a private knowledge, an intimate understanding between them, of the resources of character she drew to achieve that command. For the first time he became conscious of the depth of his love for her and, although he had always known that she had loved him, he became confident that her emotion was as strong as his own. Like her, he required no declaration; her bearing was declaration enough.

I had been meaning to write for a while, but I find I often lack the energy or motivation. My depression grows daily, and while some days I fight it off more than others, the beast wins more and more. The monotony, the daily bullshit is just..exasperating. Every week is the same, every day is the same, with mere strange changing of temperatures to make the seasons. Ask me what I've done the past year and I can't tell you. I feel useless, and meaningless. I find myself wishing I'd get hit by a car, or mugged, or robbed, just for a change of pace. I know better than to hope for positive things to happen randomly to me.

I deceive myself. I surround myself with avenues for creation, yet I never use them. I play, I write, I sing, I compose, or, rather, I have the ability to. Yet when I sit down and get ready to, nothing comes. My mind is blank and my emotions freeze. I shrug my shoulders of it in frustration and return to mind numbing escapism. I read, I play games, I do anything and everything I can to not think about things. Until something triggers me, like the passage above, and I twitch, spasm, and then just bawl my eyes out at the frustration, envy, and anger, so much anger, of everything.

I don't pine for my ex-love any longer. I am cautious, but the intense desire is gone. I realize now how young, and nubile ze is, and how not-ready for me ze is. Instead I long for the feelings produced then, I miss being drunk on love, of finally after so many years being able to let my guard down with someone. It was premature, I recognize that, but it was honest. Now, everything just feels passionless, the days blend together and there is just, nothing there. I question my motivations for everything and habit or routine are the only answers I find.

I am struggling heavily with the question of why. What purpose or driving factor do I have in my life? It is a question I have had since I was a little thing, and I've never had a good answer. I went to school because I was supposed to, I went to college because It delayed that question, I went to graduate school because it delayed that question. My motif in life has been to improve it, personal growth, and positive change above all things. I'm lost as to what direction that now means.

For a long, long time I thought it meant love. So I put myself out there, in often uncomfortable, abusive situations, because I felt that sacrifice or being uncomfortable meant doing difficult things, and thus growth, as a person. It hurt when people mistook that for weakness, or a fear of being alone. Now, being able to say I know what being IN love feels like, and yes, that word makes a remarkable difference. I'm not sure my purpose is there, and if it isn't I'm not sure where I've left to look.  More so, I'm quickly encroaching on Middle age, and I fear greatly holding out hope. and living a shit life for the naive idea that one day I'll find someone. Only to look back at the past 10-20-40 years at how much of my life I wasted, sitting here, typing entries about pining for a reason that never came.

My life, as such, then, is not enjoyable by default. Why should I have to endure?

The Cadence of Rage

Having recently resigned myself to not giving a fuck what people think of my habits and coping mechanisms, I've found that there is a lot less guilt about it, and a lot less negative emotions flying around. Shame, being a big one that people like to saddle on me. They through around terms like unhealthy and self destructive, but is it anymore so than a night of heavy drinking? Sure my way is more cosmetic and visible, but I don't damage my internal organs at all.

I digress.

I've been meaning to write since last week as an update since last week was, admittedly, fucking insane. I haven't had to cut emotions out of me in a long time, and now having done it, it feels oddly peaceful. It was a part of my life pre-move, and much like my attempted fasting and abstaining from sexual activity pre-transition failed, my attempt at doing such for my emotional safety net also failed. I was under so much pressure to be this perfectly healthy girl that did everything right. Moving was supposed to be the start of a new beginning with no therapist and no cutting. I've lost the sanctity of the act, It isn't a big deal, and it isn't something I'm going to let people talk down to me about or give me shit over. Yes, I see the frowns you give, I see the disapproving glances and hidden admonishments stuck in your throat. No, I don't care about that, and will offer you cuddles and hugs to comfort you. Rest assured there is nothing you can do (oh wait, apparently if someone else does it for me, it's healthy) to fix things.

The assertiveness and assuredness of the language used here is largely reflective how it changes my mood. It is that of my switch side, that simply does not care about most things, and knows the uselessness of 90% of what we decide to do in a day.

That doesn't mean I'm not still upset. I still break down and bruise easily. I had a very sweet moment with a metamore this past weekend who also happens to have been a cutter at one point. Very sweet words were exchanged, tears fell, cuddles were given and it was very nice.

But while nice, it is a patch at best. I still pine and wish for a sweet romance of my own, one that I don't have to sacrifice my standards or expectations for. Not that I am overly picky, but just being able to have a suitor that knows about my sexuality and gender issues would be nice. I grow entirely too weary of being ashamed of who I am and of my body.

The rest of life is largely the same. Pointless and hollow, and in dire need of some sort of creative expression. The problem I have is that I never know where to begin. I have a thousand possible choices and it dwarfs me completely to have it laid out before me. I am paralyzed by it and never get anything going because all of it is a blank page with no structure of idea to guide it, except for the general idea of "make life not shit".

My Metamore said that I should try letting it all out at once. I responded that it would likely destroy me. The more I think of it, the more it seems that my life is defined as watching a fragile girl explode from the inside out in a very slow controlled demolition one day at a time. There is such..an unending rage and grief that swallows my existence. It is deafening.

Perhaps learning to mute that sound, has rendered me also deaf to all the other internal sounds. To hear one, is to hear the anger, and after spending 20 years learning to tune that out, learning to listen to it again is proving difficult. 

I can write the words, I can carve them into my skin in fact, but the melody still eludes me. In the end though, perhaps I am, just a silly girl. Hoping for things she can not have.

Road Closures

The sadness, turns into anger. I don't express anger well, or often. I feel hurt, over how things ended, that someone can be so careless, and apathetic towards a relationship that I held very close and dear to me. The aspect that all of the intense emotionality that was expressed, at the end of the day, comes down such petty nuance and, routine apathetic dismissal of my feelings and emotions, is extremely hurtful.

I now find myself, wounded, and feeling this, very much.

Portishead - Glory Box, Live in Roseland New York

Particularly the opening lines:

I'm so tired of playing / Playing with this bow and arrow / Gonna give my heart away / Leave it to the other girls to play / For I've been a temptress too long / Just... / Give me a reason to love you.

I grow weary of this search for companionship. I don't feel like I've really felt contentment or, unguarded in a long, long time. Definitely not since transitioning. I have only fallen in love once. In that time, I felt a hint, a tortuous and temptatious waft of what it was like to be emotionally naked and still loved.

I struggle, with the fatalism. My romantic nature wants to cling to the notion that one day, we will return to that love and bond that I felt last winter, an eternity ago. It is easier to accept if I think of it not as an ending, but a pausing. That one day our fates will mesh once again. Yet, I do not want to spend the rest of my life trying to recreate what I experienced, trying to find someone, or trying to pursue what was. I don't want to  can't wait around for someone to realize my value, or finally figure out what I offered to them.

The pain, comes from knowing that I am giving up the best idea or approximation of happiness that I have ever found. While that has been gone, for a long time, I detest and hate having to close that avenue off from my emotional heart.

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.

A Funny Thing Happened

So, my switch side came back. I noticed this with one of my partners in the grocery store. It is a side of me that I associate highly with my strength and confidence. Since I started in a D/S relationship with one of my partners, my life has revolved around that. Naturally, like loosing my virginity, I place significance in that relationship, and its roles and meanings and health. The problem is, that relationship hasn't been healthy, or healthy for me. Falling in love for the first time, was...intense, and, I don't think I'll ever get over it. This relationship will forever be a part of me, and even if I decide that until things can be more equal, that it is best for me to move away emotionally, I will always have a deep, vested interest in that relationship. It doesn't necessarily mean we will stop being involved, or stop seeing each other.

I am a hopeless romantic, it feeds into my submissive role in a very synergistic way. In a very true sense I'm wanting someone to sweep me off my feet, to overwhelm me, to render my defenses moot. To be so amazingly intense that my defenses don't hold and I pour myself into them.

I felt a sense of this, when this relationship started, and I hold out hope that it will at some point return to that, and if it does I will with noticeable hesitation put myself in a place to experience that again.

The struggle for me, is that in falling in love, I lost myself. I have no hesitation to living a life of servitude to someone, to devoting my existence to someone. That is my Cancerian blood, and my romantic religion. It doesn't feel like slavery when you do it willingly for someone you love with the fabric of your soul.

In that devotion, it becomes hard to see life outside of that emotional orgasm overloading my senses.  In a very real sense, it becomes who I am. I did not fall in love half-hearted.

I understand, this level of emotional intensity, and commitment is not for everyone, I didn't think it was for me either, until it happened. Realize I had no plans to fall in love, or to become so devoted to the idea, to crusade for love at the expense of all aspects of myself and emotional solidarity.

The return of my switch side, is very much a symbolic return of my emotional strength of will, spirit, and solidarity. It means I'm no longer reveling in my submissive mindset. That mindset for me, is tied in with that relationship, and as long as I was enthralled with that relationship's intensity, I was enthralled in the mindset.

It means that I'm gaining my solidarity back. My strength is fickle. It comes and goes on a dime and is based very much in roots of shitty experiences, scars, internal strength of will, and emotional tempering.

Don't mistake me, however. I am very much still in love, and can be reduced and shattered without much effort by my partner. The difference now is in my strength in being able to fight those efforts for what I know is better for me.

My switch holds her strength as a tool, to be used for her will. My submissive holds her strength as a shield, to hold people back and test them. When that strength is gone she is helpless to anyone who would abuse her. Falling in love bypasses all of my known defense mechanisms, and essentially renders me enraptured and powerless.

The switch is never without power.

On finding Balance *updated*

*Updated to reflect this past weekend*

I love balance, I love harmony, and how things synergize when they flow together. That may just be my cancer roots, but having things feel balanced is very cathartic and enjoyable for me.

That isn't to say life isn't stressful, or annoying, or frustrating. But, when things are harmonious it seems so incredibly manageable. That is how things feel now, I think my partner and I we have found a nice balance (this past weekend withstanding) in our relationship in the amount of time we contribute and extract out of each other.

There are still things I desire out of our situation, but, the obsession and desperation is gone, thankfully. I still want to be collared, and have that intense D/S relationship aspect that we don't really have at the moment. We at the moment have a very limited sexual relationship, and as I grow more comfortable with myself, around hir, I'm wanting that experience and emotional engagement. I'm not pressured on this however, though when I tell other people that near 5 months into this relationship, that we still haven't slept together (or whatever kink fuck term you would like), most seem pretty astonished by it.

Some of this, I feel, is in my inexperience as a sub, and knowing how to instigate, inspire, and be assertive, without feeling an incongruence (lack of harmony, to stick with our theme from today) in that identity and the power I give. I often feel like it is out of place or line to pounce, or instigate things. It is something I'm learning to adapt around, but albeit slowly.

This is a great relief to me in the face of ongoing financial and healthcare stressors. I find myself being pulled beyond my means, and without a great deal of answers. Do I not go to the doctor, or do I simply not pay off my debt? It isn't that I can't pay my bills, I can, it is just that the means and ability to do so, is very thin.

I manage this largely out of neglect for other things. My car, for one, is an unabashed orgy of illegality at the moment. I have neither the funds to fix these things, or to maintain it. While this works, now, it isn't sustainable, and it isn't smart. Yet, until I find other options, what choice do I have.

On this past weekend, my partner and I spent the better part of 48 hours together, and as of now, I feel a bit oversaturated and drained. This is the first time I have felt as such, and don't want to attribute it to hir, but more the activities we were doing (video games and being silly). It isn't that I don't enjoy those things, but just that I need variety/pauses between endless tirades of World of Warcraft.

It may also be a partial response to the lack of romance and affection over the course of the weekend. Not that I was expecting anything in particular, but the affection energizes me and my involvement in the relationship. In this instance, we were both very casual and silly, which brings us closer together, but not necessarily in a romantic way. Which may explain the draining feeling after everything.

For example, when I think about say, going out with hir today, I hesitate, feeling like I just don't have the energy, where as normally I jump at the chance. 

reintroductions

Things are turbulent. It seems from one crises to another. Though my relationship is definitely in better positions than it was, there still feels like something is unresolved. Perhaps it is my paranoid just prodding me, but I don't want to leave things unsettled simply to pop up again later.

A few weeks ago I went on an adventure to alter my hormone treatments into something more manageable. This turned into a nightmare of poor choices and wasted money. I opted to try patches as they were the least invasive, and supposedly also easy on the liver. Unfortunately they do not come in the the high dosages that I'm on, and so I've been slowly dealing with my decline in estrogen levels. This was tolerable until a point where I began to feel similar to how I felt pre-transition.

I wrote about it on another site, but essentially my sex drive returned in force. Not that the desire is in itself bad, but how I deal with it and how I deal with the urges are different things. I've only recently (past year or so) began to learn to tolerate and accept my sexuality. Prior to hormones, the biological need to get off often put me at ends with how I felt, and my body dysmorphia. It often ruined my ability to be around people, I couldn't simply enjoy the company of someone regardless of if we were intimate or not.

I felt this again this past weekend, I grew agitated, frustrated, and down right annoyed at my partner because we weren't getting each other off. This is a stark contrast to how things have always been between us, in which I enjoy everything we do to each other, and there is no outright need to do anything if we don't want to.

This was terribly disturbing to me. Being pushed to a state of anger at someone I love because of a bullshit hormonal discrepancy fucking with my desires and moods. I feel it is unfair and akin to brainwashing, it is dishonest, and a cruel trick. It puts a noise and fuzz over one's thoughts and actions, akin to having voices constantly speaking to you in your head about what you want to do, how you feel, torturing you with small subtle suggestions : you would be fucking if you were really in love, you don't really feel that way, you two aren't physical because ze is bored/tired/annoyed/angry at  you.

It goes on and on. I know these things aren't true, but to have them thrown into your mind like that is quite disturbing and fucked up.

This climaxed on a tear filled drive home, peaked by wishful thoughts of car accidents. I came very close to cutting once again, but restrained myself and collapsed in an uncontrollable fit of hysterical crying for about 3 hours.

I have sense switched back to my original method and dosages in an attempt to fix the problems. Already my mental state has returned to something much more manageable. I can think clearly, and without interference again. Hopefully I can find another source of my medication to last me until I can see my doctor again.

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.

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.

Obligations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ignition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.