I was going to write something here but I forgot what it was…

As my Grandmother use to say, “that means it was probably a lie anyway.”

Now sitting here staring at this screen, all I feel is the need to apologize to everyone who has read my meandering thoughts over what seems far to many years. I’m sorry for dragging you into my little pity party which what this has become. A way for me to find acceptance, to be told I really am good enough, that I am making the correct decisions even though I know deep down I am unworthy of such things.

The very fact I am still having the same discussions, the same thoughts… chasing the same hopes and dreams here as I have for my entire life says more about me as a person than any words I could write. In too many ways I am the same now as I was at 10, hopeful, wishful and desperately terrified… of being right… of being wrong. Of being all the things I was told so many times that I was… useless, worthless, unneeded, unwanted… a burden on all those around me, all the while praying someone would tell me differently, in a way I could truly believe…

Yet there is only one person I could ever truly believe, myself, and I cannot, if I am to be honest with myself, speak those words or believe them in my heart.

So… please accept my apology for dragging all of you into my mess. None of you deserve to have such a burden placed on you.




Today was much better. I actually felt stable, not 100%, but better than the past few days.

Unfortunately my problems were self inflicted by being stupid and not taking my depression or anxiety medication then suffering more withdrawal symptoms than I care to think about.

A word to the wise, don’t be Kira, take your medicine no matter how bad you feel!


The last time I spoke with my therapist she said I was going to have to make a decision. I knew she was right, I had known it for a long time but there were things I had to understand about myself before I could do what was best for myself.

I haven’t worked through much of anything yet but one thing I know is I want to live.

Talking to Myself

Sitting here, thinking of what to write, I realize I am really just talking to myself and anyone reading this is just listening in on a one way conversation. I’m not saying sharing this isn’t important or even one of my major goals when I began. I guess it more a case of this being something I need, a way to create a sounding board when there isn’t anyone who I can be completely open and honest with.

Today, (and a majority of this year), has been difficult to put it mildly, though most of the reasons need to stay private. They are things have had a negative impact in my life including the unconscious decision to halt transitioning. I woke up one day to realize I couldn’t remember the last time I showed myself, privately or publicly. I had simply allowed myself to slip back into my old habits while ignoring or minimizing the impact of interacting with the world outside my own skin in ways which were painful, stressful, and disappointing.

From seeing a reflection to the sound of my voice, from getting dressed to showering, everything seems to mock me, to call me a liar, to insist my inner most sense of self is an illusion and nothing I could ever hope to do will truly merge the outer me with the inner and to try and do so is the hight of folly.

This of course exasperates my depression and anxiety. Add in all those things I can’t share at the moment and I find myself being slowly sealed into a box from which there is no escape. The scary part is knowing where these feeling of helplessness and hopelessness are leading me. Well, maybe not so much scary, (I’ve been here to many times to be afraid anymore), but deeply saddened.

So much pain and suffering could have been avoided if I had listened to myself. If I hadn’t been so selfish and excepted being alone was best. Now I’m hurting those I love the most and there is nothing I could ever do to make up for what I have done.