Had family issues, I’ll be back tomorrow.
I have this feeling I’ve been floating in a glass bottom boat congratulating myself for not breaking the glass while the rest of the boat sinks around me.
It seems I have come up against a wall I can’t seem to get past it.
Every day I have tried to get a grasp on my thoughts and emotions, they slip away, leaving me feeling empty and adrift. At this point I am simply tired and worn down to the point where I just want to give up… I really don’t know if any of this is worth it anymore.
I’ve been trying to put some things into writing, thoughts and emotions mostly, but they turn into mist and slip away before they reach the page.
Hopefully, with a little more time, I will be able to post something, just not now.
One of the most dangerous things I have ever encountered has been the feeling, after an extended time of everything seemingly falling apart at the seams, of things suddenly settling down. Awaking one morning free of anxiety and fear. Of the doubts and questions falling silent.
It is a devious thing which leads me to feeling as though I could continue as I have forever.
This is especially true after an extended time of slipping further and further toward an inescapable breakdown. Reaching the point where I could see it, just over the horizon, a building glow of destruction waiting patiently for me.
I have reached this point more times than I care to remember. Some how I have survived them, though I cannot tell you how or why, though each time as left me forever changed.
This time has been in the making for months, years really, and I looked forward to embracing it with open arms.
Because I am not as strong as people seem to think. I am not brave or courageous. I am simply one person who has reached far beyond her breaking point, who’s knotted rope is frayed and in danger of snapping.
Someone who is tired beyond words but knows there are others who depend on me. People to whom I have made promises I can’t bring myself to break.
I know I said all of this countless times before and yet here I am again, still unable to believe in myself, to trust myself. Still listening to the whispers telling me I am wrong and even if I’m not, then following my heart, hoping to find some small measure of happiness, makes me selfish.
So much of my life wasn’t about me. It was about what I could provide to others. Setting aside my own hopes and dreams so someone else wouldn’t feel like the failure she had mede of herself. I know this, yet I cannot break free of the chains she wrapped so tightly around me that I am still bound by them though she has been dead for years.
I have no doubt she wanted me dead and if not then as miserable as she was and I fear, one way or the other, she is going to get her wish.
Regardless of how many times you lie to yourself the truth will come out.
I can be unbelievably stubborn even when I know deep down I’m wrong… maybe more so. For months now I have been struggling to shed myself of all things gender related, thoughts, emotions, even dreams. I have refused to present as myself, tried to change the way I thought, spoke… my mannerisms. Anything, everything.
I was willing to destroy myself from the inside out to be remade in an image which was never mine.
My depression spiraled out of control. Anxiety and stress began to erode my health. Dysphoria and suicidal thoughts coursed through my mind as I struggled to build walls of denial around myself only to watch them crumble with a single discussion or pronoun.
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It seems maybe I’ve gone a “little” overboard trying to explain what’s going on inside my head. I have long used words as a shield, not from others, but from myself and the truth of my thoughts. In the end I am a coward, afraid of my own shadow… my own thoughts and emotions. It has always been easier to evade than stand up and except the truth. To give up than fight.
Of course fighting only works when you’re on the right side. Too often, almost always really, I have been fighting against, not for, myself. Most times I find myself trapped by the feeling, almost a certainty, I am wrong. Whatever I thought, felt, experienced, was never what I thought it was. At least this is what I convinced myself to be true.
This has been even more true with being transgender. I begin to accept the truth about myself, feeling better about myself and who I am and then the voices of the past come back whispering in my ear, bringing back all the old doubts and fears, causing me to question myself and it becomes an avalanche which buries me, crushing beneath its weight. Instead of fighting it I simply give in. After all, when the whole world screams “you’re wrong!” how can you be right?
This is what has been happening to me over and over these past months. I reached a point where I was willing to turn myself inside out trying to be this thing everyone insists I am but I can’t do it. Who I am in my very core refuses to be pushed aside.
Despite my promise to myself I was going to leave anything to do with Kira behind and to become something, someone, else, I would find myself answering the question, “your name?” with “Kira”. No thought, no hesitation. In fact it happened today at a local store. Several times I have come out to people I never thought I would.
You see, this year has been a real mess in the real world. I lost my job after having a nervous breakdown, then we moved to a new neighborhood where, due to some things beyond my control, everyone met me as male and I began to believe the universe was conspiring against me ever being able to live my life as Kira. Soon I convinced myself I was never meant to transition, I would be forever trapped being nothing more than a ghost, a dream which faded in the light of everyday reality.
Of course nothing is ever black and white, simple or straight forward. Time and again I would find myself returning to my natural mannerisms, my normal voice. I found myself drawn to things which I liked and enjoyed such as clothes only to spend hours, even days beating myself up over because they were feminine.
Then someone would call me “Miss” or address my partner and I as “Ladies” and instead of being upset, I felt elated. Then back to beating myself up of course.
The fun part? Every night I would go to bed and think I had survived another day without transitioning, never mind the fact I had been slowly falling apart.
Following the incident in the store, I returned to my car where my partner was waiting and told her what happened. Then I asked out loud, “why do I keep doing this to myself?” to which she replied, “Because it’s who you are.”
She’s right of course.
When everything else has been stripped away, I know who I am and trying to deny it is a pointless exercise in futility because the truth will always come out regardless of if I want it to or not.
I’ve been asking myself, where do I go from here? for sometime now and I realize I’ve known the answer all along…
I’ve traveled this road for as far as it goes… as I have often thought, I may have gone too far long ago. My feet kept going but the rest of me faded into dust and dreams.
I don’t know what comes next… I don’t suppose it matters anyway.
What will be… will be.