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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Personal

Sharing Some Thoughts

If you have followed this blog for very long, then you know it has been a long road from where I began to where I am today.

I’ve said a great many things here, some positive, some negative. I have poured out my hopes and dreams, my triumphs and failures. I have mapped out ever mountain and valley. Yet there was one thing I did not do, could not do, though I tried more than once and that was stopping or going back. I am at a point now where the past feels more like a misty dream which lingers past morning. Some days I can’t even remember what it felt like to be anyone or anything other than what I am at this moment. Oh, it’s true, there are times when old wounds are reopened, then the scars are stretched to breaking and I find myself once more caught in the webs of pain and guilt. Yet, even those things are slowing beginning to fade; not forgotten but accepted as what they are, parts of a past I can never completely leave behind, but the past none the less.

I have been many things in this life, friend, lover, confidant. I have been an enemy and an ally. A dreamer, a writer… and artist and poet. I have also been a sailor, a welder, and a printer. I have worn many hats as they say and yet beneath it all, beyond the work I have done and parts I have played, I have also been myself…

Even when I wasn’t sure who that was.

I have said before, writing this blog was as much an act of self preservation as anything. Without this space to express all the things in my heart and mind, I would have suffered a total break down. As it is, all of these words, and more importantly you who have read them, sharing your thoughts, advice, and support gave me the strength I needed when I was at my lowest just as you have given me your friendship when I finally learned to walk on my own.

To each of you I want to say “Thank You.”

I know they are small words, often spoken casually, but they really do convey so much.

I want you all to know I have not stopped thinking about all of the issues which have lead me to this place. All of the things I have so often written about; Trans issues, women’s issues, thoughts on emotions and depression, and even suicide. They are as much a part of me as the bolo which flows through my veins and I will speak of them again and again. As often as necessary. 

Today though, they are not the only things in my life. I am indeed still in the process of transitioning, emotionally, mentally… personally and yes, slowly physically as well. It is just I now understand there is more to my life. More things to learn, to explore. New ways of living I never realized while my head was so full of noise.

I want to experience new things, to learn and grow. To transform every aspect of my life into what I have dreamed for so long. This is beginning with where I live. I want it to be more than a house, I want it to be a home. Something I neglected for far too long, because now I understand the very real difference between those two things. As you may have noticed, I am writing more, poems and stories. I am also returning to my artwork. Just pencil drawings for now, but I want to expand in this area as well.

There are so many facets to who I am, parts of me which I allowed to fall fallow. 

The time has come to do some much needed cleaning, of needless thoughts, possessions… especially old grudges and hurts. Too much time has passed and life is too short. So while I will still write about my own thoughts and feelings regarding things about being transgender, they will no longer dominate the conversation. I will share more of my own personal interests, my likes and loves… I will share more of myself because I am proud of who I have become and I no longer fear the person behind my eyes when I look in the mirror.

I hope you will join me.

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Blogging, Dreams, Emotions, Gender, Information, Kira, Life, Longing, MtF, Personal, Questioning, Thoughts, Transgender, Understanding, Work In Progress, Writing

I’ve Been Thinking…

Yes, dangerous I know.

Most of the time when I write about the issues I am having, I seem to try to convey my emotional state more than anything. Maybe it’s because as I find myself dealing with issues, it is the emotions which come to the forefront. Which color my sight and leave a metallic taste in my mouth.

Yet I wonder how often this ends up clouding the issue.

These past few days are a good example, so let me take a moment to try and explain much of what has been bothering me. Maybe in this way my day to day life become a little clearer. After all, as far as I know, there isn’t anyone reading this blog who knows me in my day to day life out in the ‘Real World’ or if they do, they haven’t said as much to me, and so the only images you have of me outside of this space is what I write here, and truthfully, 99% of this is about what is happening on the inside.

Most days I do little or nothing to change my appearance from what it has been for the majority of my life. True, I have let my hair and nails grow. I use lip balm more than I use to, but really there isn’t much of a noticeable change. I still spend my days in jeans and sweat shirts or tee shirts depending on the weather. I wear tennis shoes more often than not, though I have to wear boots for work. When I look in the mirror I see the same reflection as always…

When I speak I hear the same voice in my head. I have made no efforts to feminize my voice.

I have adjusted the way I walk, but it more to the point where I don’t obviously walk like a man, ram rod straight with a tight, overly aggressive step.

Outside of this, I have tried on many levels to allow my thoughts to open beyond the narrow day to day view I had trudged through for so long, yet it is all too easy to fall back into those familiar, comfortable patterns. 

It is the same with my emotions. Yes, I have loosened the bonds I kept them under, to do anything else would have lead to a breakdown, yet I still find times when it is difficult to let go and just feel.  Then again, the very fact I can feel anything positive at all is a vast improvement over where I was. Too many years of nothing but negative emotions, the self hatred, disgust, loathing, and the anger… Oh, so much anger… 

Still, even here I can find myself falling back into those old, familiar ruts. It’s the path of least resistance. The sharp, bitter taste I know all too well.

You see, in so many ways, in so many things. Thoughts, actions, emotions; I often find not much has changed from what has gone before. So many days when I think,look, or listen to myself and I wonder what has changed? 

I think, often, if I went full time, this would change. It would have to wouldn’t it? To make those changes, no matter how minute, which transform me, in my own mind, from costume to reality and lead to the “new” me becoming more “real” than the old?

This is the question I cannot answer. Maybe it is the thought of being given no other choice but to change these things which attracts me to the idea. Maybe it is the thought; by maintaining so much of the trappings of my old self, I can never be anything else…

If I look in the mirror and see the past staring at me, am I really anything else?

I think I have said this before; if I could rip off this skin, like a snake or bad parlor trick, and step away as I know myself to be… I would do it in a heartbeat.

If I could step into the shower and standing under the stinging water to be transformed, I would rejoice.

Nothing is ever so simple though, is it?

There is a constant tug of war between what was and what I wish to become.

I don’t know… I really don’t. Some days are easier than others. There are times I want to get up and sing and dance like no one is watching… and then there are the other days. Days in which I want to scream until my throat is raw. To dig my nails into this skin and tear it from the bone.

Days when I just want to be me and days when I want to be nothing at all.

Maybe some day I will find my balance. A time when it really won’t matter what I look like, how I sound, what name someone addresses me with.

A day when I am truly myself.

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Dreams, Gender, Kira, Life, Memory, MtF, Personal, Smile, Thoughts, Transgender, Work In Progress, Writing

Following the Spark

I’m sorry I haven’t posted anything personal for the past several days, honestly, it’s because there really hasn’t been anything of interest happening. For me this is a good thing, though it takes some getting use to, but makes for some boring reading which is why I have been trying to find news and information which I think others might want to know. This isn’t to say my mind has been blank, quite the opposite, but I’ve mostly been listening to the quiet… To many this might seem strange, yet for me it is still a new sensation, this lack of chaotic emotions and thoughts, this feeling of being a peace in my own skin more than not. To being able to look in the mirror and see something there I like enough to smile about.

I’m not anywhere near where I would like to be of course, only waking up to find myself as the woman I so often see in my dreams would put me there and we know this some fantasy world where all of a princesses dreams come true before the last page is turned. I have a long list of things to work on ahead of me, yet I feel I am one step closer than I have ever been before.

There is also the issue of not living this life alone. I have to take the thoughts, feelings, and opinions of other into consideration. Last weekend A just wasn’t able to see me wearing my hair. She was fine with everything else, just not this one little thing. It might be because I have been correctly gendered even when I’m not thinking about it, doing this for her really didn’t bother me as much as it would have just a short time ago. Well, I did feel a little off but I know is was more about what I would have iced to have done to feel just a little more comfortable and not about how anyone else sees me. See? I still have some things to overcome.. 🙂

In any case, I think this is the happiest I have been in, oh, I don’t know… forever? The simplest things can bring a smile or those strange little critters… tears of happiness. Something I never thought I would experience.

Do you remember when I spoke of the times I sat alone in a motel room wondering if I could simply walk out the door and be accepted for myself?

I think the question has been answered… it just took a little longer than I expected.

More than anything, it took reaching a point where moving forward was less painful than living with the fear…

Fear, what a terrible thing… a vicious beast which can eat you alive and leave nothing but a shell behind… As much as all of my thoughts, hope, and dreams; the prayers, wishes, and tears have defined so much of mu life, there has also been the fear. The fear of failure, of success. Of stepping beyond the boundaries to find who I really am. Of following my heart and doing what I know, with every fiber of my being what is best for me even if it goes against what everyone else wants. 

You know, there is a saying; when you have surrendered once, the second time is easier and so is every time afterwards.

It’s true, even if the first time was so long ago you no longer remember it. It’s begins a pattern of behavior which is difficult, not impossible, but difficult to break even after you realize what your doing.

There is another saying; strength is what your left with when there is no other choice.

I have found the truth of this, when all else has been stripped away and I have been left with no choice beyond to live or die, I have found the strength to live… maybe for just one more day, but I did it. Now one day has piled one atop the other and I find nearly two years have flowed past. 

I am somewhere I never believed existed, experiencing things I never thought possible and slowly… oh so slowly, I am beginning to look a little further, to seek out not what was, but what might yet be.

To find within myself the spark of hope.

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