Fulfillment

I seem to be struggling with fulfillment in my life. I fine the routine of spending the majority of my week for the little money I make to be distinctly not worth my time. I've been asking around to older friends of mine if this is what life is like outside of school. If chasing the minor rewards is as good as it gets.

I find myself lying to people. Not about anything large, but just when people ask me about how my life is. It is becoming relevant as I happen upon my one year anniversary of moving to Seattle. People no doubt ask me if I'm happy, if I'm satisfied, do I regret the move, etc. My natural reaction is to rant and rave about how awesome the place is, and it is. I love the city, and the people in it. I love the privileges I'm given by not having to live in the South anymore. There are some things that I miss, mainly the people I knew/loved back in Texas, but that aside, there isn't much to regret. But, my feelings are double sided. Not in my location, but just in life, at the moment feels very unfulfilled and pointless. Not that I've ever had a point to go on, or reason to continue, outside of fear. I find myself asking if this is what people do, they go to work doing whatever for the majority of their week, then they come home for two days off a week to do some meaningless task, and repeat the process again indefinitely, and for what?

A house? A car? more bullshit consumerism of things that I neither car about or need at the moment. I know the simple answer is to find a position that is more fulfilling, something I'm a bit stuck on until I get a few more years of experience under my belt. The alternative is to that often given is to find a hobby or things I enjoy doing. I have those, they just don't feel like a raison d'etre. They don't make going to work for the majority of my life worth it.

I don't believe it is an esteem issue, or an image issue, it seems more a disillusionment issue. Life up to this point has been a progression. This school to do that, then this school to that for whatever reasons, and on and on. Now, with no other clear goals, I find myself wondering what the point of it all was, just to do some meaningless bullshit for a meager wage and very little of my own free time to do the little things that I do enjoy.

I know these symptoms of depression, and I don't care for them. The numbness, while comfortable and familiar, encourages self-mutilation. Unfortunately, I don't see the clear remedy to this issue like I have in the past.

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.

On Stranger Tides

It has almost been a week since I've moved back home with my mother. I can't say the experience was exactly pleasant, but it seems to have reached a ..tenuous understanding so far. Though I'm sure there will be more heated arguments as time goes on. I feel a bit strange actually, and I think it may be due to my near continuous stream of escapism up here. It isn't a depression or anything, I feel remarkably agreeable, but it also feels somewhat shallow at the moment. I also find myself longing for warmer weather, which...is somewhat the antithesis of my opinion only a week or so ago (regardless of the actual temperature). I'm not quite sure what it is just yet, but I know there is definitely a limitation of my emotional state at the moment.

One hypothesis is that under the relative supervision of a biological parent and step parent I've reclused into a shell existence that only functions emotionally in limited quantities. This would explain the rather pleasant nature. Although it could also be that the period of adjustment to being single again has faded. Though, it is entirely possible that it only seems that the loneliness has abated due to the clipping of my emotional extremes. Regardless, I'm using this period to try and find a position up in Seattle as quickly as possible, while not burning myself out. I'm being careful not to spend my emotional resources too quickly in spending every waking hour looking for positions. Still, my urge to leave this place grows daily.

New (Years) Resolutions

It has been a while since I've written, and I left last time on a rather dramatic, worrisome note. In the time since then, I've pulled myself back together. I'm not sure completely, but it seems like the burden I carry for being trans is just a bit too much to bear at times.

Since then, I've had to celebrate the holiday with my biological relatives. I knew this was going to be a struggle when I left to visit them. The first night wasn't bad, but I got wind of plans for a "family get together" the next night. This was different as it was to include my father's surrogate daughter, her husband and newborn son.

I left the apartment early and didn't show up until after things were already going. I tried in vain to find anyone to give me an excuse to not return, I also tried shopping, movies, and driving around my old neighborhoods. I eventually returned, and only then, was it after wasting time at a local pub drinking beer, and debating whether or not to cut myself in the bathroom stalls. When I finally left, I walked outside and a chilling rain was dumping large drops onto my head and face. I looked up and just started laughing and letting it hit me for a bit. I wasn't upset at the rain, I was ecstatic for it as it reminded me of all things Seattle. Cold, wet, rain. It was cloudy, humid, and 80* when I went into the bar. I drove back in an ecstacy of tire spin and hooliganism on empty wet roads.

When I got inside, I said my hellos and gave meaningless hugs. I don't remember many of the nondramatic details. At one point, my father interrupted a conversation between my brother and I, so we could be sure and watch him take pictures of his surrogate grandchild. The impact of this, on my brother and I, is apparently lost on my father. After emotionally abandoning us to her, he still invites her over as if he had done nothing wrong. I appeased the bile and rage I felt and continued my escapism with my brother and his girlfriend. At some point, sentences by cisgender women began "As a woman". At this point, I felt I had to run to the bathroom for fear of hearing how that conversation would turn out. I bargained with myself in said bathroom to only do two more cuts. Exiting, sane again, I rejoined and continued a very shallow consciousness until the night eventually ended.

Christmas day came and went largely unnoticed. Gifts were appreciated, but nothing I could not easily live without. Especially considering they mean so little coming from people I've no real emotional connection to anymore. The entire time I kept hearing the theme of "it isn't about you" echoed by various people. I was forced into taking pictures I didn't want to be a part of, and instead of understanding that I didn't want photo's taken, I was patronized and told I'd eventually want them. I sincerely doubt this. Lack of connection aside, why would I want photos of me at my worst? The whole event shows a huge lack of understanding on their part, and a dismissal of my feelings.

At the end of the day, my brother repeated, again, the "not about you" mantra. What bothers me about this, is the sheer hypocrisy of the statement from him. I have lived these past 7 years completely for my parents. I answered every call, I cut spending when I told to, I came down when they asked, I did favors, I helped out where I could. I took out loans to help pay for my tuition and living expenses. I do everything I can to placate, and make their lives easier. Now, having graduated, and finally free from whoring myself out for their support, I can relax, be myself, and not do anything, I don't want to do. Meanwhile, my brother has done the complete antithesis of this, to the point that my parents either A, don't bother calling him as he never answers, or B, rant to me about how they can't get in contact with him. The nerve, gall, and hypocrisy of him telling me to do anything for the sake of them asking me to, is absurd and complete bullshit.

I've since vowed I will never return to celebrate any holiday out of obligation or guilt. Especially not with them. I want to celebrate with an actual family, one that when I leave I feel sadness, not relief. People I have an actual emotional connection and investment in, not a glorified financial planner and debt collector. The same applies to both sides of my family, I'd almost rather not take their gifts and cut off contact from them, than to have to remain attached to them because of material possessions.

That said, I am back home now, and feeling much more like myself now. Healing up, again, as per the usual.

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.

Passing Through

I'm trying not to focus on the recent political events, but I just can't seem to see any light at the end of that tunnel. It seems for every step forward we make as a country, we're determined to spend another decade going the other direction. That is fine when you are the privileged majority of the country, that doesn't need access to healthcare or equal rights.

Anyway, on to more personal matters. I've avoided cutting since last Saturday, and I haven't had the urge too much so far. Thought my hip is healing up and starting to scar over. It seems everyone I interact with shows me nothing but ugliness and distaste. Granted that I may be focusing on the negative (surprise surprise), but I've yet to find anyone to show me something beautiful. I had a romantic burst with an old friend of mine the other night, but, while enjoyable, was fleeting and nonsustaining. I always enjoy these encounters, but they also seem so hollow and meaningless.

I was afraid of moving away for a while, I thought the loneliness would be too much, but the loneliness here is just as bad. At least in a new place there isn't any false pretenses to keep up, no routines for the sake of routines.

I find myself not wanting to put up with these things anymore. I know it would be rude, but I simply don't care to associate with people who aren't genuine with me. Soon enough it will be over though. Graduation is a little over a month away, and then I can begin anew, hopefully anyway. At this point it is beginning to look like staying here would be worse for me than leaving.

Tampons

I know that simply moving into a new environment doesn't solve any old problems, as it just puts them in a new environment. I'm really beginning to feel though, that if I can't get out of Texas, that things won't really get better. I'm in a drastic need of a new situation. A place to begin again, and remake myself...again. Not that it will be easy, but my motivation to stay in this place is threadbare, and no one is really making me want to stay. This place doesn't foster the kind of friends I want to have. While they are great in their own way, it isn't what I'm looking for, nor has it been for a long time.

I'm not sure if my decline in mood is attributed to my living alone, or a combination of other things. I'm inclined to think it is stress, along with lonliness. I'm glad I have another concert tonight, being shoved into a small cluster of humans sounds like exactly the type of subtle human connection that will do me good.

I got my period today. I thought about how to phrase this, and whether to publicize it, but I think it fits best here. I know many cisgender women would be quick to criticize a transwoman saying that, but transwomen bleed just as often. We do just as much work to hide it, tolerate, and deal with. The only real difference being that one is genetic, and the other self inflicted. I debated posting a "tampon" picture on facebook of the aftermath, but it would probably generate the type of attention I'm not looking for. The notion is something I very much want to spread, but as much as it appeals to me, I think much of the message would be lost in favor of inquiring about my state of mind and self destructive habits.

Anyway, I'll update again tonight or tomorrow and hopefully will be feeling better.

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.