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

Family dinner

I am exhausted.  I am physicaally worn down.  My entire body hurts, and I feel like I am walking through quick sand.  The reason is I just finished dinner with my family.

When I am with my family, I have to change every aspect of who I am.  I cannot talk in the register that is comfortable, so I drop my voice a few octaves.  I can't hold myself in the way that I want.  I must keep my hands down, and make sure I am moving in an appropriate "male" manor.  I need to watch every single word I say.  No matter what, I do not talk about my boyfriend, I don't talk about my gender.  I make as little noise as possible, but still keep in the conversation so I don't seem rude.

I need to watch everything that I do, watch what I say, just so I don't rock the boat.  I have to change almost every aspect of who I am, just so I can conform with their expectations.  When you first come out, people tell you not to push who you are on other people, to make sure that they are comfortable during the process.  What they don't tell you is that it hurts to do this.  It is physically painful not being your true self for the comfort of others.

I find that ironic.  When gay people come out, people seem to demand that their feelings be respected, but those who come out, their feelings don't mean a damn.  In many real aspects, coming out, excepting who you are, is a life saving event.  For myself, I wanted to scream it to the world, to celebrate that I finally knew who I was.  But when I began to tell family, their feelings were important, only their feelings.  It didn't matter that this was literally stopping me from dying, it mattered that their feelings were heard, and their feelings were respected.

I am not sure if this is a universal aspect of coming out.  Maybe it was just my experience.  I hope it was just my experience.  I just know that I am tired of being who other people want me to be.  I just want to be me.  God bless

My dream

I am a stranger in my own body.  My entire life, I have felt like I was wearing an ill-fitting piece of clothing.  I'm reminded of the movie Men in Black, and the alien wearing the "Edgar suit."  I am wearing a Kris suit, and it feels wrong.  I had written earlier that I would rather be a cis male, just because it seems easier.  But in my heart, I am a woman.

If someone came to me with the option to change my sex with just a snap of their fingers, I would not hesitate.  I would give anything for this to happen, there have been many times that I prayed for it.  Please God, make my outside match my inside.

Being fluid helps to lessen these feelings, but they are always there.  Even when I don't feel female, I would still give everything, anything, to become a woman.  It helps my Dysphoria, as the longing is always there, but the intense need to change is not.  But there are days that it becomes bad.  Days when I am not sure whether I am crying for What I am, or crying for Who I am and can't be.

I'm hoping therapy will help, and I hope to discuss gender issues in our next session.  But at this point, there is not much I can do to help relieve some of this tension.  One day, I hope to be in a position where I can express who I am, without fear of retaliation.  This may sound cheesy, but the first thing I dream of doing when this time comes is dyeing my hair maroon, and getting a more feminine cut.  So simple, yet out of my reach... for now.  Someday soon I will do this, and gradually do more, so that my outside will finally match my inside.  Today, I hope that some day I can start taking HRT, and maybe even transition.  Tomorrow, I might not feel the same way.  And even if I do, I might not be able to because of my health.  But today, I dream.  And tomorrow can bring anything.  God bless

Saturday, July 15, 2017

I need to offer an apology

I have just returned from having dinner with them.  They were kind.  They were loving.  And I realize how terrible I am being.  Everything that is happening is my fault.  All of it is my fault.  Yet I ignore this fact and push my way down the path of selfishness, ignoring all of the pain that I am causing.  

I am not sure why I am surprised by this.  If I cleaned the way they wanted, they wouldn't get frustrated and do it themselves.  If I wasn't sick, they wouldn't have to support me.  If I wasn't in the hospital, they wouldn't have to spend money to see me, and they would be able to get the stuff done that they need to get done.  If I was always happy, and never angry, they wouldn't feel attacked.

Is there any doubt now as to why I should be dead?  Is there any doubt now that the world would be better off without me?  This is just one person!  This is just one in my orbit, an orbit that just spreads misery and pain.

I offer an apology to them.  I am sorry for all that I put you through

I offer an apology to all.  Everyone I have 

The rational side of my brain is screaming at me that this is a bad day, and to stop.  It is starting to win out, writing has helped.  I am tempted to erase what I have written, but I am not going to.  It is proof to myself that typeing out my feelings helps to quiet down my demons.  Abuse abuse abuse, my montra for tonight.  Above is not rational thinking, but my chemically imbalanced mind.

It has been a bad day, I won't lie.  I am still sad, but the hate is fading... slowly.  I realize that I am always sad.  Even when I feel happy, there is still a slight sting of sadness learking underneath.

Thank you for listening.  God bless 

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 contain...