Reflection (Excerpt)

It wasn’t until now, this very moment, the truth became crystal clear. My last break down was greater than I imagined. It was shattering, everything inside of me exploding into razor sharp shards, rending me from the inside out. It left me wounded beyond repair… Yet it also freed me from my abuser, this construction of hate, which had worked so tirelessly to crush me, to bury me under the weight of shame and fear and a hatred so deep, so visceral, it was acid running trough my veins. My abuser, this hatred, was all anyone knew. It was the only thing they could see, hear, touch… it surrounded me completely. Yet somehow I survived. I didn’t break. Didn’t give in, though there were so many times I wanted to… 

 

In the end it was broken…

 

I want to say I am now free and I suppose in many ways I am, yet I am also a victim as much as a survivor and as such there is that part of me which still wants to believe the lies, the hate… to say it was my fault for not being stronger, not being brave, for not standing up for myself even when I knew I was dying. The stains of those years still color my soul, telling me I deserved everything which happened and it is so difficult to ignore the insidious whispers… 

 

To not crawl back to it, begging for forgiveness.

A Little More

It isn’t much, but I have been so busy today I didn’t get the chance to write a proper post, so here is a little more from “Bella”

Oh, and below is an idea for the cover. Unfortunately, it’s too big to use in my novel information for NaNoWriMo.

 

Bella Cover

 

Bella sat at the kitchen table, her breakfast ignored as she watched the first soft, white flakes drift past the window. She smiled and a soft gasp escaped her lips. She wanted to run outside, to feel each flake on her finger tips, her cheeks and nose. To let them create an lacy veil of crystal upon her hair. She wanted to dance and sing to the wonder of the new Winter. To greet the biting winds with open arms.Such was not to be she knew. Today would be spent inside a classroom even though her heart would be out there, swirling in glittering patterns.
Stepping out the door she breathed deeply of the crisp air. Snowflakes swirled about her as if joyous ballet and she couldn’t help but laugh.  She moved in slow circles, arms outstretched, letting them dace across her hands. Her head fell back, they landed with cold butterfly kisses to tickle her cheeks. For a moment she was able to forget the world and just dance.

“Your going to miss your bus if you keep fooling around, girl!” 

Her Mother’s voice cut across the silence and brought her back to reality with jarring clarity. Yes, the bus. She couldn’t afford to miss it. Letting a mask of indifference settle across her features, she turned and made her way to her stop but not before a whispered, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She thought she heard gentle laughter on the wind in answer.
 

NaNoWriMo 2013: Work In Progress

So, what do you do when your muse decides to take a siesta? You fire up the word processor and just start jabbering away until something clicks.

Here is my current jabbering. I don’t know if this is the beginning of something or if it will end up gathering dust on my head drive. Either way, I am writing. Getting words down on the page as it were, and it’s better than sitting here looking at an empty screen.

 

It is already the sixth day of November. The sixth day of the National Novel Writing Month challenge and as of this writing I have just over two dozen words written, (which you are currently reading), when I should have nearly twelve thousand words sitting in a file on my computer hard drive.

The problem has been on of focus, of having a clear vision of the story, characters, and plot lines running through a narrative which is interesting and  engaging. Instead I find myself constantly distracted by issues in the real world. Not just my various responsibilities as a partner and parent but also as a person.

I suppose if I were what society considers “normal”, I wouldn’t have much to write about. As it happens I do not fit the mold of what is desired as an unremarkable member of my community. You see, the way I understand myself, the way I see things in the mirror, things in regards to how others see me and seek in interact with me are at odds with one another. It is a condition known as “Gender Dysphoria”. In the simplest of terms it means the way I view myself internally does not match with my physical presentation. 

This is a condition I have struggled against for most of my life, even in those times when I managed to bury my thoughts and feelings deep enough they became ‘out of sight, out of mind’. As I have found over the past few years, simply explaining or wishing these things to go away, trying to rationalize what seemed to be an irrational feeling, does not make them go away. In truth, all I did was to create a mental caldera which, when it finally erupted nearly destroyed me. When I finally reached a point where I could no longer function as I was, hiding behind a mental and physical mask, I was forced to begin trying to understand not just who I really was, but what as well.

So all of this begs the question, “what is normal and if I am not, then what am I?”

In Western society ‘normal’ is considered to be a heterosexual male or female who, in all ways, sees themselves in a way which assures all of the accepted traits which define one as male or female are present and taken as expected. In other words, you were born and declared “male” by the doctor. You present as a typical male and have a male reproductive system. More, you see and think of yourself as male, preferably one who is sexually attracted to females. 

Or you were born and declared “female” by the doctor. You present as a typical female and have a female reproductive system. More, you see and think of yourself as female, preferably one who is sexually attracted to males.

This is known as “the Gender Binary”. This is an accepted version of reality which states humans are either one sex or the other based upon your physical presentation, secondary sexual characteristics, and DNA.

 Unfortunately  humans and society are never so simple.

Many who may read this are most likely to see things as straight forward in as far as sex, gender, and gender identity are concerned. I suppose this is understandable if you have never had to question such assumptions based on your own personal experience. However, there are those like myself who find it impossible to not delve deeper into the truth behind these assumptions, to in a sense, look behind the curtain and stare to wizard in the eye because the reality we live in is one of shades of grey and nothing is ever as simple as it first appears.

For myself, I have been actively looking into these truths for nearly two years, about as long as I have had my blog, Kira Moore’s Closet up and running. This is a good thing because while those first chaotic weeks have been largely lost to time, I do have a written record of the majority of the roads I have travelled to reach the point where I am now.

For this writing, I feel it is not only useful, but informative to go back to the beginning and look at and talk about how I have evolved personally and in my thoughts and feeling since those first confusing days and posts.

January 20th, 2012

Seeing this date seems sort of surreal. It does truly seems as though more time has passed than this.

So what did I have to say for my first ever post? Well, before I share, understand I was still trying to understand where I fit into the world as I was beginning to understand myself. My mind was running a thousand miles an hour and I had begun to search the internet for information. The first place which seemed logical to stop was with Cross-dressing. Superficially at least this seemed to match with what I was feeling and so I posted this,

“Kira’s Closet is a site about the thoughts, fears, and triumphs of a cross-dresser. I hope to give encouragement to others, to let them know that they are not alone. Please check back regularly for new posts, I will do my best to make regular updates.

Thank you”.

What is important to understand is, the more I learned the quicker I found I was more than what being a Cross-dresser entailed. Let me explain.

First a definition:

“from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike Licensen.

A person who wears clothing his/her society considers only appropriate for a member of the opposite sex.

from the GNU version of the Collaborative International Dictionary of English

n. someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex.

from WordNet 3.0 Copyright 2006 by Princeton University. All rights reserved.

n. someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex”

At first blush this seemed like the proper place to start my search for understanding… until one looks a little deeper.

The biggest difference and one which jumps out almost immediately is the way someone who is a Cross-dresser sees themselves as opposed to a Transsexual.

For one thing, cross-dressers in general think of themselves as male. Meaning their gender identity is male which matches with their assigned birth sex. A Transsexual sees themselves as the opposite sex from what they were assigned at birth. Someone born male has a gender identity of female and vise versa. I knew one some level I really never thought of myself as a male. I found the assigned gender roles, mannerisms, and assumptions given to males left me feeling confused and more than a little dirty. It’s still difficult to really explain these feelings in a way which would make sense to someone who has never had them. Much like trying to explain classical music to someone who is deaf or the awe felt looking at the Grand Canyon to someone who is blind.

It may be possible to share some of the depth of feelings and understandings, but it can never be fully understood on the same level as personal experience.

There were other aspects of cross-dressing which didn’t align with my own feelings and sense of self. Yes, there were some similarities, but there were too many differences to ignore. 

So if I wasn’t a cross-dresser, then what was I?

 

Total word count: 1249

Starting Over

I lost the flow on writing “Broken” and had to start all over with nothing more than my original plot. I went back and looked at a large collection of art and music to gain some inspiration and I think I am ready to start again. This does put me behind in my word count but I believe I’m going to have a better story for having done this.

 

Here is a watercolor by shastinahell-n I would love to have for my cover.

(Just scroll through the images)

43 Watercolor Painting by shastinahell n

 

 

Also, here is the new music playlist I have put together:

1) The Dawning – David Hollandsworth

2) Part 2 – June (Melancholia) – Richard P John

3) A Friend Like You – David Hollandsworth

4) Little Princess Waltz – David Hollandsworth

5) Someday – David Hollandsworth

6) Who You Are – Richard P John

7) Simply You – David Hollandsworth

8) Little Blue Eyes – David Hollandsworth

9) Every Friend You Know – Young Collective

10) Solitude – David Hollandsworth

11) Who You Are (II) – Richard P John

12) Thanksgiving – David Hollandsworth

13) Goodbye November – David Hollandsworth

14) Little Flower (Kohana’s Theme) – David Hollandsworth

15) Snowflake Waltz – David Hollandsworth

16) Louder Than Air – Young Collective

Silence Of The Muse

The past few days have been lived in a bit of a haze. I’m not sure if it’s my body trying to catch up or if it’s overthinking my story ideas for NaNoWritMo. Whatever the reason I have been unable to catch ahold of an idea and make something of it. I have began and discarded a dozen openings, plot lines, and scenes. I know I will work through this and find a firm place from which to start, the things is, it has made it difficult to even concentrate of what to write for posts here, which is why I did a news brief yesterday. 

Maybe I’m just trying too hard. It happens some times. 

I just to let it all go and relax. Thoughts and stories come and go and do so without me striving to drive them out of the shadows. In fact, when I do so, I often find it even more difficult.

Here’s a side note… I noticed this thing called NaBloPoMo, which is a challenge to bloggers which is in response to NaNoWriMo. Insead of trying to crank out 50K words, you post every day for the month of November. I don’t see this has much of a challenge though, as I have made it a point to add a new post here every day for almost two years. Even in times like these, when I am struggling to find the voice I want to share with the world, I still make a point to do something, no matter how small, here as it keeps me motivated and engaged,

I know there are many people who simply cannot put this much into a blog or writing in general and you know what? You shouldn’t push yourself into it. All of us are different, we each have our ways of dealing with daily life and all the crazy challenges we face, but to try and strap yourself into doing something your not comfortable with.

So, I’m going to sit back and veg for awhile and see what bubbles to the surface. 

Broken – Prologe

It wasn’t suppose to end like this.
She smiled bitterly. Standing in the subdued half light filtering through steel gray November skies, the day seemed created for this moment. A movie scene so perfect it was almost unreal. A freezing mist carried on the fretful wind sought any exposed skin, countless needles striking numbed flesh.

She turned her eyes to the small group before her. So few, huddled in their coats and scarves, looking more annoyed than sorrowful. Men and women who had better places to be, more important things to do. Sadly it was the same attitude she had seen so often, The silent disapproval. The disgust which filled the space between them and her almost as visible as their breath from downturned lips and upturned noses.

Even from where she kept herself, at the edge of the ceremony, she could see the grave. A stark, open would in the frozen earth. Above it, held like a demented cradle in black straps, sat the casket. Dark wood and steel dully gleaming. A bright highlight so out of place. 

Broken – The SemiOfficial Book Soundtrack

Sorrow

 

I am sharing what I feel would be the soundtrack I want for people to listen to when reading my story… it would also work if someone wanted to make it into a movie 😉

BROKEN 

Line – Rachael Yamagata

Deliver Me – Sarah Brightman

Laura (Oh Girl) – Phox

Praelusio – Harrison Mead (NoiseTrade)

What Happens Now – Lex Land

The Storm – Dharmakasa (Amazon)

Wound Down – Elu

 

I know there are only seven songs, but together they capture the mood I want to set for this story.