Personal

Fighting Demons

Each of us have our demons to fight. Sometimes we win and others we lose yet either way it is exhausting; physically, emotionally, mentally. There are times when it all I can do to get out of bed and others when I dread falling asleep. During the day its a fight to concentrate, to maintain any type of focus outside of my skin. Nights bring dreams full of indecision and doubt. 

These past few weeks have been harder on me than I am willing to admit. There have been issues upon issues to be dealt with and each one has created more sharp edged doubts, fears, and shame to use against myself. 

The voices have risen and become a insurmountable storm, telling me how much of a failure I am, showing me how much I have hurt everyone around me, exposing just how selfish and callous I have been.

There is still so much to sort out, all these emotions to untangle, thoughts to shift through. Too many memories. More wounds and scars than I could ever hope to deal with before they bleed me dry. The issue now is if I will try and put them here or simply deal with it in my head. After all, I did so for more years than I can remember and there is no chance someone reading this blog will take offense.

As they say, the only real secrets are the ones you keep to yourself.

 

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Personal

Here She Goes Again…

I’m afraid this post is likely to be a rambling mess for which I apologize.

There has been a lot going on today in my head, which I suppose isnt a surprise to anyone who knows me I went from up to neutral to down as the day progressed which ended after I had a conversation with A this evening. 

I’m sure there are a number of things I can blame my thought processes on but regardless of why I treat myself so badly, in the end I know I am the one who has to take responsibility because it not only affects myself but those around me and trying to play it off isn’t doing anyone any good.

I have been fighting with myself since the very beginning. Constantly insisting I could somehow bottle everything up, toss it in a box, throw it in the deepest hole in my mind and rebury it forever. Of course I knew this was childish, foolish, and pointless but the thoughts and emotions roiling in my head over rode what my heart knew to be true and I tried anyway with disastrous results. Over the past twenty four hours I thought to go down the same path with those same voices telling me I could do it this time… (Then again I also know the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.)

Another analogy here would be someone taking medicine for a life threatening condition and once they started to feel better deciding they no longer needed to continue taking it. You see, those wonderful thoughts and emotions started working overtime once I had experienced one day which was better. I had thoughts of, “If I feel better now, and I’m not trying to be (her)… well then, I should be able to continue to do so as long as I take any questions, doubts, fears, anxiety or depression and just push it into that little box and kicked some dirt over it.

I told myself I could also set aside anything dealing with being transgender. To just stop thinking about it, to clear my mind every time those thoughts and feeling raised their heads. I could do a through house cleaning, both literally and figuratively and just start over with a clean slate.

This also included crushing any memories from my past, especially from my childhood.

(Yes, I know this sounds even more insane than any of my other ramblings but it really has been part of my internal dialogue.)

I’m not sure why I decided to say anything to A about any of this, (other than the fact I have never been able to keep my big mouth shut,) In fact I told myself many times to just keep my decision to myself. I felt if I said nothing then no one would have a reason to worry about me… (yeah, another genius thought…) In the end I did say something and it started a conversation which proved to me this wasn’t what I should be trying to do. Instead of not hurting others, it would only make things worse.

Refusing to simply be myself was creating a lot of stress in everyone. I was unpredictable and unstable. I was also a danger to myself, enough so my therapist has been seriously pushing for me to commit myself for my own safety, (though right or wrong I have felt it wasn’t the right thing for me to do). She pointed out I have had the means and a plan to either hurt or kill myself for sometime and all it would take is one step in the wrong direction to act.

She’s right… I have been a danger to myself for more years than I care to claim. I have made plans, researched methods, thought long and hard as to the time and place but never put any of into action. Part of the reason I have mentioned before, having something, no matter how small or seemingly pointless, planned within the next twenty four hours. A chore, some responsibility, even writing a simple blog post… has kept me going, one day at a time. Maybe doing this small thing to keep myself alive says I’m not really ready to die, I can’t say for certain. Death has been a close companion for far too long.

The thing is, I hope by truly surrendering to the truth of who I am I can not only find peace with myself but a true reason to want to live.

I guess we’ll see, won’t we?

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Writing

A Girl in Boys clothes

There were no monsters under her bed. They hung, cloaked in dark malice, within the depths of her closet. They slept, with cold intent, in the drawers of the chest beneath her window. Each waiting for the morning light when they would be brought forth and draped across her shivering, goose pimpled skin. Scrapping and itching, mockingly moving in ways she could not completely ignore.

They were not hers, not these things. They were weapons, soulless, cold and unfeeling, just as the people who folded her into their unyielding embrace. She did not fight, cry out or utter a sound for she had learned long ago silence was her only defense against the quick hand. Her heart an impenetrable fortress encased in icy fear laced too deeply with the scars of unforgivable betrayals.

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Transgender

Today

If today proved anything, it is to never assume the people around you see things the same way you do.

The day started with a doctors appointment, just a check to make sure my BP is stable, (it is), and if there have been any issues with my antidepressant and anxiety meds, (there have been).  I began by speaking with the nurse regarding my issues with depression and the recent struggles I have been experiencing. This turned into a much more detailed conversation than I intended and ended with a huge hug, which I appreciated more than I could say.

Then it was on to talking with the doc. He surprised me my saying he had been researching information on transgender health care. Something I never would have expected considering some of our past conversations. Sadly he admitted to being constrained by working through a catholic health organization, as he said, he can’t even prescribe birth control.Of course, my health insurance is controlled by the same organization so nothing trans related will be covered. Still I left feeling better about him being my primary care provider after a very open and accepting conversation.

Now, for several reasons, most having to do with my identification, I had to go about my business in as understated a manner as possible, so I was in what I call my “boy mode” or not overtly presenting as female. I had to go to a different doctors office to pick up a script for one of the boys where they usually require seeing a photo ID… cue ugly drivers license photo… Before the receptionist asked for it though, she handed me the script and the sign out sheet and asked, “so are you his mother?”  Needless to say there was an interesting conversation with a very embarrassed woman, though I did my best to set her at ease, thanking her for the compliment and assuring her I was anything but offended.

These things might be minor in the course of a normal day, but recently I have anything but normal days. Those who know me, know I am my own worst critic and if there is a silver lining, I will only see the cloud. 

At this point I think it best to explain some things…

I have known for a long time now I need to medically transition at least as far as going on hormones is concerned. There isn’t any doubt in my mind this is the next step I must make, however, it also something which remains just out of reach because I simply do not have the resources and at this point it looks as if I never will, which, I think you can understand, has caused me a great deal of distress.

I look at myself and all I can find are the negatives. The way I look, the way I sound… this all too masculine body… and I hear the whispers in my mind…

Who do you think you’re fooling?

Who will believe you when you say you’re a woman?

Anyone looking will see a man.

If there is one thing I am not, it is a man in a dress and the thought of someone seeing me as such makes me physically ill.

Seeing myself as such is soul crushing.

I have lost count of the times that damn voice has told me I am what this body makes me and no amount of wishing otherwise will change anything. Has told me I am a fool, delusional, crazy…

I know I have mentioned these things many times throughout the years, but they continue to torment me through each and every day.

There have been countless little things which have validated my understanding of myself, speaking on the phone and being accepted as female, having people in stores see and refer to me with feminine pronouns, regardless of my appearance…

Yet all it takes is one person… one comment… one questioning look and the illusion shatters into a billion pieces, knife sharp, cutting me to the soul. As I have said before, if I have not made an effort to be see as female, I cannot fault someone for seeing me as male, yet it doesn’t dull the pain, pain which I have brought upon myself because I have told myself my appearance doesn’t matter because everything underneath turns my outward truth into a complete lie.

Tells me I really am nothing but a costume, a caricature.

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