Beneath the Gazebo

 

Beneath the Gazebo
By Kira A. Moore

She danced beneath the gazebo,
In the park,
As the rain fell on a Saturday night,

She held her pain close to her heart,
Arms to her chest,
As the tears fell on chilled skin,

The sound of her cries forever lost,
To the winds sigh,
As it whispered through leaves,

A Path Already Walked

 

I realize now that I need to go back to the beginning of this blog and read everything I have written. To once again walk down those paths that have led me to this point.

Until just the other day, this was something I hadn’t thought that I needed to do. Something that in some ways I was scared to so. That I am still scared to do. There are things written that i don’t want to face again. To think about. To remember.

But I have to. 

This is one of the keys to understanding myself, to remembering the things I have learned.

There is a great deal of pain in those pages, written in the middle of the night when I was lost in the storm.

In those first hectic days, I thought my only issue was with cross dressing… Boy, I couldn’t have been further off the mark.

As time passed and more an more memories came to the surface, I quickly realized that I had bigger things to deal with and I am still dealing with them all these months later.

I am finding that I will have to take this process very slowly, just going back to those memories is causing me some problems and I am quickly feeling overwhelmed.

I have to remember to take this one small step at a time, and when I need to, to step back and take a breather. I don’t have to do everything in a single day. 

In the Morning Light

 

In the Morning Light

By Kira A. Moore

 

 

Watch as the flower falls,

A single rose, blood red,

In the morning light,

 

A dull gray, so fitting,

On this day,

The rain falling,

 

Washing away the emotion,

Reminding that life,

Renews despite sorrow.

 

 

Her Spirit Rejoicing

 

Her Spirit Rejoicing
By Kira A. Moore

She stands above,
The city below,
Eyes closed,
She cannot see,
The rain that falls.

Though it washes,
Away the tears,
She is unable,
To stop tonight,
Lost to the darkness.

She dreams of freedom,
From the pain that sears,
Her heart and soul,
Day after day,
Every day she awakes,

Like the angel she dreams,
She spreads her wings,
To the stormy night,
Her spirit rejoicing,
And she soars.

And Show My Affection

And Show My Affection

By Kira A. Moore

The garden is again full of flowers,

Colors of every shade,

The scent intoxicating,

I want just a moment to touch

Each and every one,

To savor their feel,

To lose myself within

Their silken embrace,

And this love of being,

I shall dance upon the air,

And show my affection,

Beneath the suns warm glow.

Something Lighter

 

Considering the heavy duty posts over the past 24, I thought I should look to something a bit lighter. What better I thought than music. Something I haven’t really talked about in a while.

So here I present the playlist that I often have going in the background when I’m working on poetry, or when I am trying to frustrate myself trying to get my story idea off the ground where it has been laying in a wrecked heap for more than a month…. 

 

I Am Not A Farmer by Bill Frisell

Honky Tonk (Pt. 1)

Honky Tonk (Pt. 2) by Bill Doggett

Walk, Don’t Run by The Ventures

Hanging On by Active Child

Take Five (Original) by Dave Brubeck

Eldorado by Ben Harper & Relentless7

Jessica by The Allman Brothers Band

Bossa Blue by Chris Standring

Gloria’s Step (Take 2)(Live) by Bill Evans Trio

Chaconne in G Major by Daniel Hope (Plus a list of other too long to mention)

Lucifer by The Alan Parsons Project

Daylight by Boyce Avenue

 

This is an hour of wonderful music that just floats in the background. As often as not I have it looped in continuous play.

In Need of a 2×4

Some days I just need a good smack to the back of head and someone telling me, “Hey dummy, you missed the obvious!”

Thank you Ren’Ai for doing that for me.

As been pointed out, the whole point of doing this blog was to give me space to write down all the stuff that runs through my head on any given day. Somethimes from hour to hour. It doesn’t matter if I am thinking of ups or downs, good things, bad things or just pointless things, this is the space for it. This is also a place that I can come back to later and reread what I have written, to remember the things I might have forgotten. To show myself that even in the bad times there are also good times. That if I take the time to sift through all these words, I have most likely written an answer for myself.

I just have to find it.

Thinking things out, working through problems and issues, is one of my strong points, it is also one of my weaknesses. It doesn’t take much to go beyond heathy self examination and into destructive cycles of over thinking.

Everything that I have gone through up to this point has been overwhelming, there is so much I now know that I simply don’t know. There are emotions and thoughts I simply don’t have the ability to deal with, and yet I have, time and again, tried to do exactly that. If my past were any indication, I should know that I am not a mental heath professional and I do a really lousy job of treating myself. Yet that is what I try to do time and again.

I think I’m like the mule that has to be hit over the head with a 2×4 just to get my attention. Then maybe I can learn something.

 

P.S. Ren’Ai, I know you love anime and when I saw this picture I thought you would like it.

(((HUGS)))

Kira

Tonight; Between the Fire and the Void

 

I tried to do something tonight that I haven’t done for some time…
I tried to go into full shut down. To just let my mind go blank, thinking of nothing. To shut down my emotions and float in a void…

I couldn’t do it. The thoughts and feelings just keep gnawing away at me and I’m unable to stop them…

Right now I have the music turned up as loud as I can stand without making my ears bleed and still that damn voice that whispers in my mind won’t be quiet…

That feeling that I’m full of shit, that all I’ve done is live one lie after another, won’t quit digging at me, undermining my confidence in myself, who I think I am…

At this point I don’t know myself any more… I doubt that I ever really knew myself at all…

I think of myself and what I thought I saw there and I don’t know what to think. Nothing makes any sense any more.
I was so sure I understood the thing I had unleashed in my head but now? I just don’t know.

Maybe I’m trying to avoid the truth of who I am. Maybe some part of me is unwilling to accept the truth, whatever that might be…

To be honest, I wish I could just shut down, to disappear into my own head and never come back. Leave behind this shell.

As it is, I am caught in the strangest place. There is a numbness in my head and yet it feels as if my chest is burning. As if my heart is being turned to ash.
Part of me wants to shed my old life, everything I was for so many years, but part of me wants to cling to who I was, discarding this new reality and returning to what was, no matter how bad it might have been.

Yes, I find it impossible to not doubt myself, my thoughts, my feelings. I just can’t grasp this. I can’t get myself around who I have become…

I wish I had better words to explain what is tearing through me. I wish that I could let everything inside just pour out onto these pages. That the tears that I cry would become the thoughts that would make this clear even as my vision blurs….

A Darker Writing

 

Before I get a start on this post, I know that it is going to be a dark writing.

I have been moving within a false cloud of outward happiness since last night and I think my energy for this has about run out. 

One thing I know is that I will not cry. I am not going to let those tears fall, not now, not tonight. I will hold them in, as I have done so many times.

I know that in many ways I am not the person I was and yet in so many ways I still am. I have my bad times, when the dark emotions rule my thoughts. When I cannot see the light in the distance. When the dawn seems too far away. 

It is true that most of my early years are a blank, that I cannot recall more than a few vivid memories from the time before I was six, then things again turn blurry until the age of ten. I think that maybe those years that are closed to me may be a blessing. Considering what I know from those years things weren’t very good. 

The times from the age of ten are not perfect, but I can remember a great deal more and do so much more clearly and I can say that while I am sure that there are those who had things worse than I, my life was nothing to be envied.

It was during those years that I became very familiar with death, and often thought of dying.

It was during this time that I became familiar with pain.

Physical pain.

Emotional pain.

Psychological pain.

I withdrew within myself, seeking solitude and shunning contact with anyone as much as I could. I would spend hours upon hours alone, out riding my bike or walking for miles and miles. All the while I thought and thought and thought and could find no answers.

I didn’t understand myself, couldn’t understand the way I thought and saw the world. Why I felt the things I did. I was beyond just wanting to be a girl, though that was part of it, it was was wondering why I had ever been born, why I was still alive even after screaming to the heavens to let lightning strike me down.

Through high school I wanted nothing more than to die, to be buried and gone. Even now , looking back across the gulf of time, I can still recall some of those moments with perfect clarity. This was far beyond teen confusion and doubt, this wasn’t about being socially awkward. This was a deep seated hatred of myself. Who I was, what I was, the very fact that I existed in the world at all. 

I inflicted a great deal of physical abuse on myself.

I abused drugs and alcohol. Though to this day the man I once called my best friend at the time calls me a liar when I tell him some of the things I did back then.

I went into the military simply because I didn’t know what else to do with myself and not surprisingly, that ended when I tired to overdose. Then again, almost from day one I was an emotional and mental disaster. I quickly returned to the self destructive behavior, drinking too much, self harm, and drugs. 

The fact that I suffered a total break down wasn’t surprising, that it took as long to unfold was.

Since then I have found that I have been in a mental battle with myself, a war of self hatred and loathing. I don’t know that I hoped to find in all of this, what end I expected beyond death.

Again, the fact that I suffered a second break down isn’t a surprise, that it didn’t end with me in the hospital or the morgue is.

If I had not had A there to question me, to at least find a way to open up some form of communication, I don’t know that might have happened.

That in opening that communication she inadvertently opened pandora’s box has led us to where I am today.

Still wondering, still questioning, still seeking.

And as someone agreed with, I think too much, try too hard to understand things. Ask too many questions that simply don’t have answers.

In many ways I am terrified of being myself because I don’t know who that is.

 

(And yes, I think this post alone is proof that I think too damn much.) 

Morning Musings

I have been accused of thinking too much, of thinking too much into things. Often things that those around me think of as givens, so obvious that they don’t see a point in spending much effort on them at all. in this case it happens to be the way I think about myself.

Over the past several weeks I have found that I have had less and less thoughts about my internal identity, that is I no longer have to stop and think of myself as Kira versus G. (Don’t you just love the alphabet?)

This may seem like a pointless exercise, after all, in the end I am both.

For decades I thought of myself in terms of my male identity, I simply didn’t have any other way to do so. Now though, I know that is not who I really am, that I built that identity as a self protection mechanism. That who I really am, that core of me that I had worked so hard to keep hidden away, has another name, my true name, that represents that true identity.

As the saying goes, every lie has a kernel of truth, and so it is with me. G was the lie but he was built on the truth that I now call Kira. As with any good lie, I used elements of my true self to build on. In doing that I was able to build a believable male persona, something that people could see and accept. Unfortunately that also led to a blending of the two. There was just so much bleed through that over time I had become a mix of the two. A very confused and unhappy mix. A depressed, angry mix that was destined to self destruct.

Now I have rediscovered that truth within myself and like an archeologist, I am working to uncover that buried truth and bring it once more into the light.

The thing is, in the beginning I had to find a way to separate things, to figure out what was truth and what was lie. I had to have a way that I could begin to express who I really was and in doing so I had, by necessity, divided up my thoughts and emotions so that I could understand where they were coming from.

Now? Now it no longer seems to matter if how I am thinking is based on one thing or another. As I said, in the end, I am a blend of both my true self and my experiences. That so much of my world view is colored by being beaten over the head with maleness doesn’t make it invalid.

I simply cannot keep asking myself if i am thinking like a boy or girl. Either way I am simply thinking as myself.

On the other had, this does not mean that I am not concerned with communication.

The ways in which men and women communicate are different, often in small and subtle ways, but different none the less. In this regard, I am struggling to over come all those lessons I learned when dealing with men. It is frustrating to say the least.

It is one of the things that I know I really need to be able to experience, to observe first hand, to be involved in. Cis women have had a life time to get these things right. They are able to do so without a second thought, but in many ways I am like that girl who grows up with only male relatives and friends, who when finally exposed to other girls finds that she has to scramble to learn the rules before she is accepted, if she ever really is. More often than not, it takes making that one friend who is willing to take the time and effort to help her before she can over come this learning curve.

I have lost track of the times I have wondered if I am doing things right or if I am acting too “male”. The problem of course is that all the women around me see me as just another male and treat me accordingly. Needless to say, that doesn’t help matters much.

I’m not sure what I can do to correct this situation, but I hope that something presents it self. Right now I am hoping that the support group I was told about is still together. Just the chance to be open with other people who understand will go a long way to helping me work though things like this.