Some times I come out from therapy even less sure on how to proceed than when I went in.
This time I was given a homework assignment; write a journal post which speaks of my inability to find the right words to describe what I am feeling / experiencing.
So I fear I need to start this post with a warning, I am sure I will say many things which I have said over and over again, and I am also sure this is going to be longer than what I usually write. So if you don’t want to stay until the end, I understand.
I suppose the easiest way to begin is to say I feel I have run out of steam, physically and emotionally. I am empty inside, my mind does little more than jump from useless line of thought to another while my emotions seem little more than a sluggish fog waiting to burn off in the morning light. Every time I try to ask questions of myself, to push or prod to understand what I could do to move beyond this point and I get nothing in return. Some times it seems I am wrapped in a bubble, my ears stuffed with cotton, my eyes blindfolded.
I have found a desire to simply walk away from everything I have done to this point. Not to try and stuff myself back into some box but to simply slip into the ether and allow it all to fade away with the passing of time. As I saw written somewhere,
‘it isn’t quitting if you walk away from an situation you have no hope of winning.’
Maybe this will sound as if I am finding reasons to complain, but I am at a point where I just want this to stop. The constant thoughts, the feelings of being outside of everyone else’s reality. Feeling as if I am caught between two sheets of glass which are trying to turn me into a smear, something to be wiped away and discarded. There are more and more times when I simply do not know who I am. I try to maintain my self image while from all around me I hear old names and pronouns. I look at anything which identifies me and they are in the same old name, the same, glaring gender markers. It is as if I am just a ghost, a figment of some delusional mind. I tell myself I exist, yet I have no proof.
Family, friends, coworkers, store clerks, bank tellers… anyone and everyone insists I am someone I can no longer recognize in the mirror or in my heart. It wasn’t so long ago I thought I had a better understanding of who I was, yet now all of it has fallen into doubt and confusion and I am left realizing I am nothing more than a torn and tattered shell, that I have never learned how to fill this empty space with the things which make a real, complete human being and so I am full of pointless junk and discarded dreams.
There are many other things in this rattle trap of a brain of mine, but I am afraid to share them because I fear there are those of you out there who will be outraged, hurt, or otherwise offended. These are things which have drug their nails through my should and have caused me considerable pain. So before I go on, please, please know I will understand if you are not comfortable reading past this point.
Okay… I have seen and heard a number of times this idea of there being boy vaginas and girl penises, and I cannot get my mind around this idea, I know what equipment I have and I can tell you it does not belong to a girl, nor should it. It is a part of something which marks me as an “other” and I would be happy to wake up without it. This leads to the issue of spaces, women spaces, mens spaces… yes, all those wonderful, twisted bathroom arguments… Personally I feel uncomfortable using a women restroom while still having the wrong bits, of course I no longer feel safe in the mens room either, I have gotten some rather unfriendly looks and I really don’t want a confrontation. My answer to use gender neutral restrooms. At this point I know which places have them in case of an emergency. I simply cannot imagine wanting to use an open locker room or changing room nor insisting on having a right to do so as long as those afore mention bits still exist. Another thing is other gender specific spaces or events. It would be one thing if I were invited, but I will not try to force my way into a place where I am not welcome, no matter the reason. So when I hear, read about various confrontations and disagreements I simply cannot relate to the issues from a trans* point of view. I’m not claiming to be correct or to have the only answers to these issues, they are simply beyond my ability to effectively offer an opinion.
I don’t know if any of this has made an ounce of sense or not. I hope it has.