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.