Personal

Here I Am Again

Round and round it goes, where I stop no one knows…

There are times which are tougher to struggle through then others. Points where resolve weakens. Days, weeks, months when waking up knowing the world I will face is almost more than I can stand.

Times when being little more than a dream, a ghost, wraps my soul in darkness and the doubts come clambering, demanding attention, refusing to be ignored any longer.

This past week has been one such… I have had almost everyone around me use my old name and male pronouns. Each time it is a slap in the face, a dagger driven into my heart and I no longer have the strength to continue to correct them. Add to this several cases in which I have been required to present as male to access services from my lawyer, insurance company, even the post office because I had to use my official ID and information.

Maybe I’m being too sensitive but it seems as through the world around me is demanding I be male.The effort I have made to come out full time has been thrown back in my face.

Fool.

Dreamer.

Delusional.

Insane.

All these and more have crowded into my thoughts and I just don’t have the strength to counter them. 

 

I took a break between writing the first part of this post and what I about to write now.

Every day of this journey has been difficult. There have been so many things to deal with, so much baggage to unpack, I’m amazed I have made it as far as I have.

So many times I just wanted to give up, yet there always seemed to be point at which I was able to find just one more toe hold, one more thing to give me the strength to take just one more step…

Now…

I can’t find it. I don’t see anything to reach for. I have done so much and yet it seems so pointless. Nothing i have done has changed how those around me see me. Their presumptions and assumptions are as strong as a concrete wall and as likely to budge.

As I mentioned before, those closest to me insist on referring to me as male, using my old name, using male pronouns and doing so unapologetically. When I try to explain how much this hurts me it is twisted around to where it is they who are being hurt, they who are the victims. It is somehow my fault for making their lives more difficult, for trying to make them feel guilty for not accepting me, for making them uncomfortable.

It is I who is being unreasonable, stubborn.

This is one time when I am glad I’m not telepathic because while I believe they have played along with this because they think it is a phase or because they pity me, I can only speculate. Knowing the truth beyond doubt would be enough to break me once and for all. 

As it is I can still fool myself into believing the best of them, yet even this has reached it limit and I am seriously wondering if it would’t be better to give up.

To let them win.

To let the world win

To give them who they want.

And it isn’t me.

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Personal

Dreaming Of Becoming Real

I don’t know where this is going to end but what I understand is it must begin somewhere.


I seems a lifetime since I began this journey and as cliche as it may sound, it seems but a moment has passed. Naturally what I have written to this point is but one small piece of the puzzle which is a life and there is so much more to search through, to discover and understand. At the same time I feel as though I have just been brought into this world, a confused soul trying to find my place.

I wish I could sit down with myself from all those years ago, not to say everything is going to be alright, because sometimes it will be and others it won’t, that is simply life. I would like to see, once again, where everything began, what thoughts I had, how I saw the world. I guess this is important because on so many levels I feel there is no connection between who I was even a few years ago, never mind decades. It is as if those years happened to someone else and I am seeing them as a peeping tom looking through a dirty window. Each sight and sound out of any context I can relate to. Inside jokes and shared secrets I am excluded from.

Maybe he died, all those years ago on a cold Winter evening. Even if the falling snow didn’t cover a physical body and cold, black water never wet the skin, maybe instead it was the spirit which was covered, the soul which was washed away…

I know nothing afterwards was the same.

I sit here wondering what to say, is there a way to reconcile to past with the present? Do I want to? Am I the real me or is he? Am I figment of imagination, a hope, a dream, or am I a nightmare given form?

I wouldn’t be surprised if there are those of you out there asking, “Again?” I can understand your feelings, I have had them many times myself at this point. One would think I was past all of the doubts, fears, and questions. It would be reasonable to expect to see me talking about confidence, self assuredness, and a feeling of finally being true to myself and the world in general… Well, such would be nice, but life is never so simple and my demons are are more stubborn. 

Much of this stems from something I have noticed recently which is how little difference I find in my feelings and the way I process my presence regardless of how I walk out the door; obviously presenting feminine or not, alone or in a crowd. I sometimes imagine myself within a bubble, unable to connect with anything. Sadness, fear, happiness… they all reside just beyond my fingertips leaving an expectation of depression and finding even it eludes me.

Is this what I am suppose to find? Is it me or the medications I take?

Before I began writing, there had been a lifetime of chaos. A constant storm of noise, emotions, and thoughts which tore through my mind, scouring away each day as light turned to darkness. There were entire months which passed without notice. So much which was said or done of which I have no memory.

Now there is only silence.

So why write this post? I want to know the truth. I want to know who I am, now, this moment… Am I a figment, a hope, a prayer?

Maybe a shadow or ghost dreaming of becoming real.


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Personal

Running Amuck

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. 

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

Thinking While Alone

 

The night rests quietly around me and I find myself surrounded by a haze of emotions. It’s times like this when I am glad I’m not on hormones, I fear I would be a complete wreck. It is enough I have been reduced to tears. Thankfully I am alone and no one will see me like this. I could never explain myself.
I think of the future and I wonder where I am heading, where do I need to be in order to be truly happy in my own skin. I don’t know… Can I be complete as I am, living a dual life, one in my heart and the other as others expect?
Being like this is something I know I must do, but I fear it is going to tear me apart. I have such a small window of time when I can see myself as who I really am. The briefest of moments and then it’s gone. Yes, I can shift into what is needed but it leaves me feeling cheated and more than a little dishonest.
I think if the choice of how to present was left to me I would have an easier time being in “boy mode” because it was the way I felt comfortable at the time. Being forced is a difficult pill to swallow. In a way it feels as if my life hasn’t changed. First my family forced me to be this thing I wasn’t, then I did it to myself, and now I am still forced to carry around this shell. Forced by circumstances and choices I could not foresee.
I know, it seems I am whining about life not being fair and maybe I am.. But it
doesn’t make the reality any easier to take. A simple glimpse can become a slap on the face, a stab in the heart.
How do I explain to someone why I can’t look them in the eye because I feel like a fraud? That I know what they see when they look at me and it makes me want to break down in tears? That it makes me almost physically ill to see what I am forced to be?
And what makes these times a thousand times harder is knowing there are times when I feel normal regardless of how I look on the outside. I don’t understand how those times are even possible, yet they are. When I suddenly realize I am having such a moment, it comes as such a shock and I am overwhelmed with doubt. Maybe I’ve been wrong about the way I have come to understand myself, maybe I’ve been fooling myself, chasing fantasies. It is often hours before I can get the whirlwind of emotion and doubt under control.
I know times of peace and self acceptance and they have been becoming stronger and longer and I want those feeling all of the time. I want to wake in the morning content with who I am and to go to sleep with the same self awareness.
That is going to be my goal. It is what I will strive for.

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