When There Is No Choice

Just a little update….

I have had a lot on my mind lately… sort of like saying the Arctic is chilly or the ocean is a little damp… but anyway,

I talked with A and told her what I’ve been thinking these past few weeks, and… well… I felt I should do the same with you.

I don’t know how obvious it’s been, but I have known for awhile going on hormones would be my next major step. I have danced around it, I have told myself every reason why I shouldn’t and I still couldn’t keep it out of my thoughts. Over the past several weeks, taking this step has become larger in my mind, often slipping into my thoughts at the most unexpected of moments. Me, being who I am, have tried to keep things in check, and it has caused me all sorts of problems. As I mentioned, a lack of sleep, a loss of appetite. Even physical symptoms such as  constant muscle tremors and headaches. I find myself tensing up, having to force my shoulders down from my ears… All signs of stress and they have been getting worse.

I am not going to lie to you. this scares the crap out of me. I have been open to myself for less then two years… Considering how long I managed to survive before I ever came out, this is a blink of an eye. It just seems to all be moving too terribly fast, but there isn’t anything I can do about it without tearing myself apart in the process.

A has an appointment with our family doctor next week. As things stand, I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to get in to talk with him myself, and so I asked her to talk with him. I then promptly told myself to tell her not to, not because I’m not ready to get serious, but for two other reasons…. First, I feel guilty about distracting her when she needs to concentrate on her own health. Second, there is that part of me which wants to put the breaks on, to slow things down and drag them out as long as possible before I am forced into action. Of course, doing so would cause me a lot of problems mentally… I know it, so does A. I think it wouldn’t matter what I said at this point, she would bring it up regardless because she knows how serious this is. Still, I so wish I could give into the fear, just curl up in a ball, stick my fingers in my ears, and wish it all away. I  think of the many stories I have read in which someone spoke of going on hormones, spoke of how eager they were to get started, how they couldn’t wait for the changes they knew they had to look forward to… and I wonder why I feel so differently. Why this is something I know I need to do because I have no choice, not because I simply want to. What good does it do to consider you choices when there really is no “choice” at all?

Just thinking about this twists a knife through my insides…

Just Another Day…

Why does this have to be so hard?

Every step has been filled with doubt and fear… I never thought life would be easy, if anyone has learned that lesson, it is me. I just wish I knew the things I have done have been right, that the things I will do will lead me down the right path. Of course there is no way to really know, is there? By the time the final judgment is made, we won’t be here to find out…

It’s hard to believe how much time as passed since I took the first steps which would lead me to where I find myself today… from a scared, confused child to a scared, confused adult…

So… in case you missed it, I’m pretty much a wreck inside. I’m having trouble sleeping, I have no appetite, I’m moody, and whenever I think about what might be in  my future, it all I can do to keep it together.

Just another day in the life…

But I’m Not…

Today has been a roller coaster with my emotions all over the place. The smallest things set me off in a fit of anger and the next minute I’m crying for no reason. This would be understandable if I were on hormones, but I’m not…

Anyway, I’ve been looking for inspiration, some emotional connection. Maybe just a feeling of being understood on some level I can’t explain. I know part of it is not having anyone to sit down and talk to, someone who knows what I am experiencing on a day to day basis. Though being able to share things here, there is just something deeper when you can look someone in the eye, listen to their voice… There are many reasons why I hate the place where I live, the weather, the attitude, just the whole vibe of the place, but what I hate mere than anything is the total lack of a support system. No groups to go to, no activities, no chance to interact with those in the real world who share a reality, an experience.

Okay, I have talked about this before, and yes, I am whining. I just feel so isolated and it is depressing… Not like I haven’t been dealing with this for more than a year now and it isn’t likely to change anytime soon.

So I am doing the only thing I can, looking online. Not the best answer, but better than nothing. I found the webcomic Venus Envy and am up to Feb. 2003. There is a lot here I can relate to… I am also going back and reading Wandering Son, (Hourou Musuko), as well as watching the television series on Crunchyroll.

I know, I know, I have mentioned this manga/anime a number of times but I have such a connection with the main character. I feel as if I am watching myself sometimes… if I spoke Japanese…

Ack… I blame my lack of emotional control for this post, I really do…

I hope to hear from my muse soon so I can write a poem or two for posting later today, we’ll just have to wait and see…

Until Later,


A Memory Of The Girl In The Mirror

One of the interesting things about writing here is it gives others a small glimpse into my head. Though what appears here is much less chaotic than my thought process thanks to editing as much as my being forced to think clearly in order to get things across in a way which won’t drive people insane…

I was going to write a much longer post, but I realized I was over thinking things… not as if I haven’t been accused of that before…

Maybe it is because I am listening to Kevin Wood’s album, “Kindred” or maybe I’m just in a reflective mood; whatever the case, I was writing when a memory came to mind and for just a moment everything else was washed away and I was left with a small smile on my lips and tears in my eyes.

I saw, once again, a small child standing in front of a mirror. She was wearing her mother’s clothes and smiling ear to ear because in her reflection she saw clarity. Everything made sense. The world had come into crystal clear focus and she knew she was seeing herself as she truly was, her heart reflected in the glass.

Just a faded memory now, the true impact sanded and smoothed by the sands of time, yet the emotions, the razors edge of understanding, are as sharp now as the moment they happened.

I can see the glitter in her eye, her truth radiating out like a beacon in the night. She knows who she is and the knowledge is a physical force.

I am and will always remain that little girl…

I forgot that once….

Never again.

Behind The Curtain

I have spent more time today catching myself wiping away tears than doing anything else… It was the same last night too. I find myself sitting on the steps to the throne of Oz, one hand on the curtain and terrified of what I will find on the other side.

As much as I have written over the past year and more, there are things I have danced around, truths I have alluded to, but I did everything in my power to pretend the things I didn’t want to acknowledge simply didn’t exist… You see, I know there is much which has happened in my life to make me who I am today, and while I have endeavored to only concentrate on those things which have become mile markers in my life, there is much which resides in between them which is becoming more important in understanding who I am…

Speaking about the guilt I have felt, continue to feel, over simply being who I am has brought some of this to the surface and it is going to eat me up inside if I don’t deal with it.

I have spoken before of the things my mother said and did, her cutting comments, her obvious disapproval, her refusal to see in me anything but her own failures… but more than that was the constant, unspoken feeling that whatever had happened in her life was in some way my fault. That her life would have somehow been better had I not been there. It was rarely overt, just a look in her eyes, a downward twist to her lips. Her refusal to accept I had a right and reason to become my own person… her clear thought that the only reason I should exist was to cater to her every need and whim, that doing otherwise was a personal insult. That in seeking my own path, in searching for my own happiness, I was being spiteful and selfish.

There was a time when she wanted me to use my veterans benefits to help buy her a house, when I asked what would happen if I met someone and wanted to get married and have a place of our own, she told me in no certain words I was just being selfish. The look on her face made it clear what she thought of me meeting anyone who would waste their time being with me… A year later I met A and she never forgave me.

There was nothing I could do which would ever be good enough… I would never be good enough… No one would ever love me or accept me because I didn’t deserve it.

I was born and raised in guilt… It was because of me all the bad happened in the lives of those around me… If I hadn’t done this, if I had done that, if I were just bigger, smarter, more talented, a more obedient child, a better student….

Certainly my father was no better. In his eyes I was a disappointment. I wasn’t his “little man” no matter what I did. I wasn’t rough and tumble, (I always managed to got hurt), I wasn’t interested in the things he was. I wasn’t into sports or guns or the crude humor he enjoyed. I was too sensitive, too emotional, too introspective. We had nothing in common and so he made every effort to ignore me unless there was something I needed to be punished for and some how there always something… He tried to teach me to “man up,” to “be a man.” He thought using pain and humiliation was the way to teach me how to be what he thought I should be.

All I learned was to bury myself deeper within myself. To hide myself away and try and survive another day.

I took all these things, big and small and used them to punish myself until the time came when what they did hurt less than what I did to myself.

I have lived so much of my life believing all the bad things which happen to those around me was because of me. If they had never met me then none of it would have happened. I was a jinx, a bad omen, an angel of suffering.

I didn’t deserve to be loved, accepted, understood, or even tolerated.

My own hopes and dreams were meaningless.

The only use I had was in what I was able to do or others and in that I allowed myself to be used. I didn’t have true friends, I surrounded myself with those who saw in me what they could take for themselves.

These are the things I am finding as I slowly lift the curtain. They are painful to see, to acknowledge, but they cannot be ignored. Not if I am to heal.