Saturday, July 29, 2017

It's 12:43

its 12:43 am and I am not asleep.

my brain is fuzzy, yet I'm awake

my brain is talking, wondering, dreaming

who am I who am I who am I

crickets chirp in the darkness

cars drive slowly past

yet I sit and dream dream dream

who I am who I am who I am

all the world's in conflict, so what if my brain is too

am I any more deserving to be out of chaos

I am who I am who I am who

the darkness gets deeper, a siren cuts the stillness

are they finally coming for me

my room is not empty, I am not alone

ghosts fill the room, my ghosts

ghostly images of my self floating floating

reminding me of what I'm not


it's 12:52 am and I am not asleep

yet I still dream

Friday, July 28, 2017


They say to have patience.

That what is meant to happen will happen.

Maybe not today, probably not tomorrow, but soon.

But how do you have patience when you are wrong?

How do you wait when every cell within is screaming for change?

When the very sight of yourself is a sickening glimps of a stranger?

It hurts, physically, mentally, emotionally.

Every moment is agony.

But you must wait.

Wait to be seen as who you truly are

Wait for your true self to be free.



They say to have patience.

But can I survive the wait?

An interesting day

Today is a bit interesting.  I have been wanting to transition for the past few days, but it is not accompanied by any of the normal psychological issues that occur when I feel this way.  I am not Dysphoric.  I am not depressed.  I am actually in a very good mood.

I am wondering if I am finally figuring out who I am.  What if this is what I have always wanted, and now I am finally ready to accept it?  Are the days when I don't want to transition, only my false self struggling to regain control?

I am going to start a group therapy program for Trans individuals, and I am looking forward to being around people who are like me.  I am hoping that this will finally allow me to work out what I am going through.  It will also be nice to know that I am not the only one going through this.  It is rather lonely when you are not around those who know and understand what you are going through.

I'm imagining myself the way that I want to be.  I want to express who I am, and to have people recognize who I am.  I was on the phone today with a lovely person, but when we ended our conversation, she said, "have a great day sir."  Sir.  Nails on a chalk board.  I want to scream to the world that I am not the person they see on the outside, but my true self can't be seen... yet.  I'm hoping soon.

But I fear what will happen once I do.  Will I lose more people?  Will I be attacked?  Will I lose my family forever?  I will probably experience all of this, and yet I am still wanting... needing to express who I really am.  I am not me, and yet I am.  God bless

Monday, July 17, 2017

Just need to talk

I have been holding my insulin pen for the past few minutes.  I was ready.  I just needed to jab it into my belly and empty the full container into my system.  I am not sure if that would have done the trick, but I wanted to try.

I am still staring at it longingly.  I feel calm.  I'm not emotional.  The pen seems to be tantalizing and it's calling me to pick her up.  Just keep pushing down the plunger, and then just fade.  No more pain. No more hate.  No more.

I'm not sure what is stopping me.  It is a few feet in front of me, easy to grab.  In a few moments it would be done.

It's quiet.  I hear the faint hum of a car engine in the distance.  What are my last sensations going to be like on earth?  Will I be afraid?  Will I finally be happy?  Will my mind focus on the man I love?  I just want to feel.  I just feel numb.

I'm not going to do it right now, but I feel myself getting closer.  Maybe the next time I hold my pen, I will be ready.

Does that make me feel more happy, or more sad?  Do I even feel anything at all?

My love I'm hanging on for you, I am really trying.  It's funny.  The moment I wrote that, I began to cry.  I can feel again.  I will continue to hang on.  I love you
Why can't I just be a man?

Trapped in hell

I fear my depression is getting worse.  It seems like every day, I am trying to stop myself crying.  I am dreaming of dying more often.  Pain keeps hitting me, wave after wave after wave.  My energy is drained just thinking about it.

I am back in a closet, huddled in the dark. I had thought that I had broke the door down, I thought that I had finally escaped.  But I am back in.  I am back in so as to make others feel better, to ensure that their feelings are respected.  It doesn't matter that it hurts.  It doesn't matter that it's killing me.  I hide my true self, forcing who I am down down down inside me, to make others happy.

So I remain trapped, trapped in a shell that others have created for me.  A shell of expectations, a shell of perceived normality.  The shell is too small, and I feel myself suffocating, yet I am unsure what I can do.  I know what I need to do, but I don't know where to start, or how.  Escape seems impossible, yet I know that I must.  I must escape.  Or I will die.

To be honest, either outcome seems equally preferable.  No matter what happens, the pain will stop.  Until then, I will live in hell, a hell created for me by people whose feelings must be protected, must be validated.  Each day I feel another chip at my soul, slowly breaking away.  I will escape from the closet some day one way or the other, but I wonder, will anything be left of my soul?  God bless  

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Trying, and failing, to be male

For 33 years, I tried to be a man.  I have a penis, so in my mind that meant I had to be male.  A lot of this came from my Granfather.  To him, I didn't have worth unless I was participating in traditional male activities.  And that meant sports.  So in Junior High, I started to play football.  I had worth.  I was learning to become a man.  I was never any good, but I was big, and that helped me play more.  The more I played, the more he would show me that I had worth.

A football team is a very testosterone fueled, manly place to be.  Gender norms were aggressively enforced, and any deviation from this, you were deemed a "faggot" and were scorned until you were able to demonstrate your manly prowess.  So any sign of femininity was squashed inside me.  I was in a show choir outside of school, and I made sure I never talked about that aspect of my life.  I made sure to always act male when I was around any of my team mates.  I even had a girlfriend.  I am smiling to myself about that.  When we were dating, my girlfriend got rather aggravated that I never tried to suduce her, or try to explore her in any way.  It  never occurred to me that I should, and frankly I wasn't that interested.

While I have admitted to what I was not, I am still trying to figure out what I am.  As I was growing up, I felt like I was missing an identity because I was trying to be what I wasn't.  Now, I am trying to find out who I am, and the lack of an identity persists.  I am wondering whether I would have been ready to face being Trans earlier in life, and I am thinking no.

I have fought who I am for so long, that I wasn't able to fully accept who I am sooner than now.  A lot of this is from my Franciscan education.  I have been working with the idea that God loves me so I must love me.  I credit my Order for this.  Their compassion, understanding, and support has been lifesaving.  So to my Order, thank you, I love you all.  God bless

It's 12:43

its 12:43 am and I am not asleep. my brain is fuzzy, yet I'm awake my brain is talking, wondering, dreaming who am I who am I who ...