Bigender, Cross Dress, Dysphoria, Gender, Mtf, Transgender

Remember

Almost eight hours have passed since I sat down to write the first post for today. Such a small amount of time all things considered. Yet enough has changed I felt the need to write.
I wish I could say I was in a happy place, but that would require more than I’m able to do at the moment. I am, though, much better than I have been for some time. I didn’t mention it before, but when I went home after work yesterday I put on my hair… not dressed, no makeup, just hair and yet it made a very real difference in how I felt. I know I have said I am myself regardless of how I present, yet sometimes I need a little reminder I am not imagining things. A little boost to my feminine esteem. You can play boy only so long before it begins to wear thin.
Earlier in the day, I had pulled up one of pictures I took and really looked at the person there. Yes, I saw a woman there. Her face is softer, more rounded. She looks relaxed and self confident. I look into her eyes and I can see the strength of her determination. I would be proud to wake up and find her looking back at me from the mirror each morning.
I know this is the real me. Sometimes it is hard to remember she is there, just out of sight.
Yet she is there, she is the true reflection. This other, who I see so often is nothing more than window dressing. It is me and yet it is not.
This is the truth of my existence, and I need to find the way to see that even in the most difficult of times. It is when my sight is clouded by this duel life I become filled with doubt. When I lose sight of the real me. When the world gains a handhold and seeks to drag me back into the darkness.

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Friendship, Life, Love, Poetry, Writing

Only Friends

Only Friends
By Kira A. Moore

We shared coffee
And thoughts,
Hopes,
Dreams,
Loves,
Disappointments.

We shared,
Laughter,
Tears,
Smiles,
Broken hearts,
And promises.

But we did not,
Could not,
Share the one thing,
Which was,
Most important;
Our hearts.

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Bigender, Cross Dress, Dysphoria, Gender, Mtf, Transgender

Thoughts

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My last few posts have been difficult for a number of reasons, all of them self inflicted. This is what I do to myself time and again. I seek out those things which can, (and do), cause me the most pain. When I was younger, it would be seeking physical as well as mental or emotional pain in an effort to break through the growing numbness. To free myself of the depression, free myself from the abyss. I suppose, as I am still in this world, it must have worked to some degree or other, but now I wonder at the cost. To myself, to those around me as they watched me self destruct.

In this case I sought out the most painful thing I could think of in a effort to force a reconnection with the real person inside. I was again slipping under the suffocating mask I had lived with for so long, and I’ll admit, I was desperate to keep it from happening. My coping skills are terrible, where others would find a constructive way to regain their balance, I seek the most destructive.  For me, it was the most emotionally traumatic event in recent memory.

This was my phoenix moment.

Even now I cannot read the words I wrote in the days and weeks which found me and my world being ripped apart in a blazing orgy of self destruction without braking down all over again.

And I forced myself to read it again and again.

I have to admit, I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can only pull the trigger so many times before I finally find the bullet.

Sitting here, reading what just wrote, I have to ask myself if this is something I should share. This glimpse into my mind, my heart. This entire blog has been about finding words to express what is inside, what I have, am and will go through as I seek to rebuild myself, not in the image of the past but as my hope for the future. At first I thought to keep it private because I feared being judged by others. I have seen what can happen when one tries to be honest and open in a public forum online. Then I thought, I can’t be the only person dealing with this. There must be others who understand.

Now I wonder, do all these posts seem too much like self pity? Do I come across as someone who just wants to be a miserable wreck?

Yes, I have good days. Yes I make some small progress. Yes, there are times when I am truly happy. Yet it seems all I do is write about the bad days, all the lows. All I do is speak of destruction.

I fear speaking these things, sending out this message. I fear the people who have made an effort to support me, though words, thoughts and prayers will soon got fed up and walk away in disgust.

I know personally what a toll dealing with this can take. So often I am exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally.

A person can only take so much.

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Bigender, Cross Dress, Dysphoria, Gender, Mtf, Personal, Transgender

I’m A Mess Part 2

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I wrote part one of this post several hours ago but now, after some more time to think and having a chance to talk to A, I find I have more I need to talk out.

Up until this point I had found it possible to take a mental step back and change gears, so to speak. Slipping off the male mentality I lived in for so many years and, at least in my own thoughts and self image, move into a feminine mindset. For at least a week now, I have found this a more and more difficult process. The male keeps intruding, keeps insisting on being dominate and it has left me in an ever deepening depression. My thoughts and emotions have become a morass I have to fight through just to make it from one hour to the next. There are occasions, moments of clarity when I can almost find the place where I am not just comfortable but where I am most myself. Long ago I fell into this vapid pit and didn’t come back. I am terrified of doing so again.

This is such a difficult thing to explain. I know most people never have a reason to deal with the thoughts and emotions which so often rage through my mind. It is something they just cannot understand and to that I say; be thankful. This is a roller coaster ride from hell.

The times I have had when mentally I am fully myself, with all those years of baggage left behind to be almost euphoric. How can I explain the feelings of escaping a suffocating membrane that has surrounded me for so long I almost forgot it was there?

Something I find to complicate matters is the difference between what I feel in the way I think, the way I see myself, the way in which I accept my thoughts and emotions and the way I view my physical body. There are many things I have never liked about myself, my appearance, my body shape, even my hair, and yet, I never found myself standing in the bathroom contemplating removing body parts. Simply put, I do not have body dysphoria, or maybe it’s genital dysphoria. I view what I have as gender dysphoria. My mental sense of myself, of who I am, of what I am, does not match with what people expect given my appearance or my sexual organs.

Between my ears I am, always have been and always will be female. A female born with certain deformities, but female none the less. I managed to fool myself for years, to put on a costume of expected behaviors and mannerisms, to the point I had deceived myself into thinking I was what other assumed. All the while my true self, that woman I sought so hard to deny, was fighting to be free. In so many ways I think of myself as someone who was abducted as a child and then brainwashed into thinking they were someone else. They may have accepted a new name, a new life, in an effort to survive but somewhere deep inside the truth was fighting to be free.

I was brainwashed. First by my parents who would never except my truth, and then by a society which makes assumptions based on a false sense of understanding what truly makes a person male or female. Lastly I was brainwashed by my own need to survive. I became what others insisted I was just to maintain my sanity and my safety.

Now I need to rid myself of the brainwashing. I need to be free of the lies, the assumptions. I am trying so hard to strip away the false identity and find my true self. That child who knew herself so long ago.

This is made more difficult by things beyond my control. By promises made and responsibilities taken. Yes, there are things which bind me because I allow them to, because I could never be true to myself if I didn’t, yet they are restrictions none the less and being such, make this much more difficult.

Some days I wonder if the critics aren’t right. Maybe I am delusional, maybe I am crazy. Maybe I suffer from some mental disorder. I guess it doesn’t matter in the end, I am who I am. I am what I am.

I pray for a day when all of this is behind me and I am free to simply be. Without question, without doubt, without fear.

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Bi-Gender, Cross Dress, Dysphoria, Gender, Mtf, Personal, Transgender

I’m A Mess Part 1

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Have you ever reached a point where you wanted to go for a long walk alone, just so you can let your thought burn off? Just start moving and keep going with no destination in mind, just loosing yourself in the movement?

I wish I could do that now.

I’ve become lost in a haze and I don’t know where I am going or even why.

My thoughts are a rambling mess and I don’t know what I want to say, I know there are things I need to express but I just don’t know how. I’m sure this post is going to be a jumbled, confused mess and for that I am sorry. Usually I try to have something sensible to say, but today I just can’t.

For awhile now I have been feeling my self understanding slipping through my fingers. I just can’t get a grip on who I really am, on what I am. I have looked and looked for someone blogging about this feeling, I have done countless Google searches, and still I haven’t found anything…. anyone.

There is a very serious disconnect between how I feel about my body and how I feel about the way my mind works. While I have a terrible body image, I know I can live with this physical form. I don’t have body dysphoria. I don’t feel a driving need to make major changes to get a female body. Yes, I often think about HRT, I wonder if it would be a help or a curse. There are days when it is a desire I can almost taste and yet, there are just as many when it barely crosses my thoughts. No, at this point, I know I can live as I am physically, maybe not happily, but it isn’t torture.

Mentally, emotionally, is a very different story….

I can’t stand it when I fall back into masculine habits. Into those male dominated thought patterns. When I find myself thinking in the ways I did before, when I find myself thinking of myself in masculine terms.

Does any of that make sense?

When I find my thoughts and feelings taking such a turn, I become depressed, unsure of myself, and just falling into such a feeling of failure it rips away my will power. I want to curl up and die. It’s like someone has pulled the rug out from under me.

I hate my birth name… even when in full blown boy mode, I never liked it. In girl mode I despise it beyond words. When I find myself using it to think of myself, which thankfully has been slowly diminishing, I want to scream. If I could I would burn it from my thoughts forever.

For me, it represents everything I never wanted to be. It is the epitome of everything I hate. I know the people in my life, loved ones and just people who know me in passing, know me by that name, and so I am forced to tolerate it, but hearing it spoken is enough to make me want to throw up. It is disgusting and vile and I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT.

I look in the mirror and all I see is me dressed up like a boy. I see something which is me and yet it isn’t and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to change it. Yes, I do find when I am properly expressing myself, I can see past the bits and pieces I think of as being male and embrace this image of my womanhood. When I speak of not being able to change the male image, I mean I cannot change how I am forced to express to the world at large, I can’t just throw all my boy clothes away and start over today as I really am. I feel trapped by a world which insists I conform to it’s comfort at the cost of my own.

The whole world is a stage and I’m forced to wear clown makeup.

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